CHAPTER VI
Joy came in the morning when the raven alighted. The "two-faced Janus"was wreathed in smiles, bent double with chuckles, and tears of delightsparkled in his eyes.
"How dee is growed!" he whispered cautiously. "Mannish now, fur true.Gawd! de han'somest one ob de fam'ly!" For, with the refreshment ofsleep and the substance, not merely the similitude, of fried chicken,waffles, and coffee, Julius, in the gray uniform of a first lieutenant,made a very gallant show despite the incongruities of the piled-uplumber of the old garret. He had a keen, high, alert profile, his nose atrifle aquiline; his complexion was fair and florid; his eyes were afiery brown, his hair, of the same rich tint, was now and again tossedimpatiently backward, the style of the day being an inconvenient length,for it was worn to hang about the collar. He had a breezy, offhand,impetuous manner, evidently only bridled in by rigorous training todecorous forms, and he stood six feet one inch in his stockings, tallernow by one inch more in his boots, which the old servant had helped himto draw on. "Lawd-a-massy! dis de baby?" cried the old negro,admiringly, still on his knees, contemplating the young officer as hetook a turn through the apartment with his straight-brimmed cap on hishead and his hand on his sword. "'Fore Gawd, whut sorter baby is disyere--over six feet high?"
"Wish I was a baby for about two hours, Uncle Ephraim! You could carryme 'pickaback' through the Yankee lines!"
"Hue-come ye run dem lines, Marse Julius? I reckon, dough, you hattersee Miss Leonora," said the discerning old darkey. "'Fore de Lawd, shehed better be wearin' dem widder's weeds fur de good match she flungaway in you 'stead o' fur dat ar broken-necked man whut's daid, praisede Lamb!"
If Julius joined in this pious thanksgiving, he made no outward sign. Heonly flushed slightly as he asked constrainedly, "Is she wearingmourning yet?"
"Yes, sah, to be shore. Dis yere Yankee man, whut ole Marster an' de'ladies' an' all invited to stay yere, he is gwine round Miss Leonoramighty smilin' an' perlite an' humble. Dat man behaves lak he is mos'too modes' ter say his prayers! 'Anything ye got lef' over, good Lawd,will do Baynell, especially a lef'-over widder 'oman!' Dat's hispetition ter de throne ob grace!"
Oh, double-faced Janus!--now partisan of the Rebel, erstwhile sofriendly with "de Yankee man."
"Ef 'twarn't fur him, yer Pa could come up yere an' smoke a _see_gar an'talk, an' Miss Leonora an' de ladies mought play kyerds wid dee wunst ina while, wid dem blinds kept closed."
"He isn't such an awful Tartar, is he, Uncle Ephraim?" said Julius,plaintively, allured by this picture. "Wouldn't he wink at it, if hemissed them or heard voices, or caught a suspicion of my being here?They have been so good to him--and I am doing nothing aggressive--onlyvisiting the family."
"_Lawsy--Lawsy--Lawsy-massy, no! No!_" cried Uncle Ephraim, in extremeagitation and with the utmost emphasis of negation. "Dat man isafflicted wid a powerful oneasy conscience, Marse Julius!"
And he detailed with the most convincing and graphic diction thedisaster that had befallen the too-confiding Acrobat.
Julius was very definitely impressed with the imminence of his peril."The son of Belial!" he exclaimed in dismay.
"Naw sah,--_dat_ ain't his daddy's Christian name," said Uncle Ephraim,ingenuously. "'Tain't Benial!--dough it's mighty nigh ez comical. Hit's'_Fluellen_'--same ez dis man's. I hearn ole Marster call it--but whatyou laffin' at? Dee bed better come out'n dat duck-fit! Folks can hearye giggling plumb down ter de Big Gate!"
He was constrained to take himself downstairs presently, lest he bemissed, although longing to continue his discourse. His caution in hisdeparture, his crafty listening for sounds from below before he wouldtrust his foot to the stair, his swift, gliding transit to the moreaccustomed region of the second story, the art he expended in concealingin a dust cloth the bowl in which he had conveyed "the forage," asJulius called it--all were eminently reassuring to the man who stood insuch imminent peril for a casual whim as he gazed after "the raven's"flight.
Solitary, silent, isolated, the day became intolerably dull to the youngsoldier as it wore on. He dared not absorb himself in a book, althoughthere were many old magazines in a case which stood near the stairs, forthus he might fail to note an approach. Once he heard the treble babbleof two of the "ladies" and the strange, infrequent harsh tone of thedeaf-mute, and he paused to murmur, "Bless their dear little souls!"with a tender smile on his face. And suddenly, his attention still bentupon the region below stairs, so unconscious of his presence above,there came to him the full, mellow sound of a stranger's voice, awell-bred, decorous voice with a conventional but pleasant laugh; andthen, both in the hallway now, Leonora's drawling contralto, with itscantabile effects, her speech seeming more beautiful than the singing ofother women. The front door closed with a bang, and Julius realizedthat they had gone forth together. He stood in vague wonderment anddispleasure. Was it possible, he asked himself, that she really receivedthis man's attentions, appeared publicly in his company, accepted hisescort? Then, to assure himself, he sprang to the window and looked outupon the grove.
There was the graceful figure of his dreams in her plain black bombazinedress worn without the slightest challenge to favor, the black crapeveil floating backward from the ethereally fair face, the glitteringgold-flecked brown hair beneath the white ruche, called the "widow'scap," in the edge of her bonnet. Her fine gray eyes were cast toward thehouse with a languid smile as the "ladies" tapped on the pane of thelibrary window and signed farewell. Beside her Julius scanned a tall,well-set-up man in a blue uniform and the insignia of a captain ofartillery, with blond hair and beard, a grave, handsome face, adignified manner, a presence implying many worldly and social values.
This walk was an occasion of moment to Baynell. The opportunity hadarisen in the simplest manner.
There was to be the funeral of a friend of Judge Roscoe's in theneighborhood, and at the table he had been arranging how "the familyshould be represented," to use his formal phrase, for businessnecessitated his absence.
"But I will walk over with _you_, Leonora, although I cannot stay forthe services. I will call by for you later."
It was natural, both in the interests of civility and his own pleasure,that Baynell should offer to take the old gentleman's place, urging thatan officer was the most efficient escort in the unsettled state of thecountry; and, indeed, how could they refuse? He, however, thought onlyof her acceptability to him. Apart from her beauty he had never known awoman who so conformed to his ideals of the appropriate, despite thegrotesque folly of her blighted romance. It was only her nobility ofnature, he argued, that had compassed her unhappiness in that instance.The graces of her magnanimity would not have been wasted on him, heprotested inwardly. He appreciated that they were fine and highqualities thus cast before swine and ruthlessly trampled underfoot. Sheherself had lacked in naught--but the unworthy subject of the largess ofher heart.
It was Baynell who talked as they took their way through the grove anddown the hill. Now and again she lifted her eyes, murmured assent,seemed to listen, always subacutely following the trend of her ownreflections.
He would not intrude into the house of affliction, being a stranger, hesaid, and therefore he strolled about outside during the melancholyobsequies, patiently waiting till she came out again and joined him. Sheseemed cast down, agitated; he thought her of a delicately sensitiveorganization.
"How familiar death is becoming in these war times!" she said drearily,when they were out of the crowd once more and fairly homeward bound."There was not one woman of the hundred in that house who is not wearingmourning."
She rarely introduced a topic, and, with more alacrity than the subjectmight warrant, he spoke in responsive vein on the increased losses inbattle as arms are improved, presently drifting to the comparison ofstatistics of the mortality in hospitals, the relative chances for lifeunder shell or musketry fire, the destructive efficacy of sabre cuts,and the military value of cavalry charges. The cavalry fought much nowon foot, he said, using the carbine, but this red
uced the efficiency ofthe force one-fourth, the necessary discount for horse-holders; hethought there was great value in the cavalry charge, with the unsheathedsabre; it was like the rush of a cyclone; only few troops, welldisciplined, could hold their ground before it; thus he pursued thesubject of cognate interest to his profession. And meantime she wasthinking only of these women, mourning their dead and dear, whileshe--the hypocrite--wore the garb of the bereaved to emphasize hermerciful and gracious release. She wondered how she had ever endured it,she who hated deceit, a fanciful pose, and the empty conventions, shewho did not mourn save for her lost exaltations, her wasted affection,the hopeless aspirations--all the dear, sweet illusions of life! Perhapsshe had owed some compliance with the customs of mere widowhood, theoutward respect to the status. Well, then, she had paid it; farther thanthis she would not go.
The next morning as Captain Baynell took his seat at the breakfast-tableshe was coming in through the glass door from the parterre at one sideof the dining room, arrayed in a mazarine blue mousseline-de-laineflecked with pink, a trifle old-fashioned in make, with a bunch of pinkhyacinths in her hand, their delicate cold fragrance filling all theroom.
Even a man less desirous of being deceived than Baynell might well havededuced a personal application. He was sufficiently conversant with theconventions of feminine attire to be aware that this change wassomething of the most sudden. His finical delicacy was pained to acertain extent that the casting off her widow's weeds could beinterpreted as a challenge to a fresh romance. But he argued that ifthis were for his encouragement, surely he should not cavil at hercandor, for it would require a bolder man than he to offer his heart andhand under the shadow of that swaying crape veil. Nevertheless when hisadded confidence showed in his elated eyes, his assured manner, shestared at him for a moment with a surprise so obvious that it chilledthe hope ardently aglow in his consciousness. The next instant realizingthat all the eyes at the table were fixed on her blooming attire, notingthe change, she flushed in confusion and vexation. She had not countedon being an object of attention and speculation.
Judge Roscoe's ready tact mitigated the stress of the situation."Leonora," he said, "you look like the spring! That combination ofsky-blue and peach-blow was always a favorite with your aunt,--Frenchtaste, she called it. It seems to me that the dyes of dress goods weremore delicate then than now; that is not something new, is it?"
"Oh, no; a worn-out thing, as old as the hills!" she answered casually.
And so the subject dropped.
It was renewed in a different quarter.
Old Ephraim was sitting on the floor in the garret, while his youngmaster, adroitly balanced in a crazy arm-chair with three legs, wasscraping with a spoon the bottom of the bowl that had contained "theforage."
Julius made these meals as long as he dared, so yearning he was for thenews of the dear home life below, so tantalized by its propinquity andyet its remoteness. He was barred from it by his peril and the presenceof the Federal officer as if he were a thousand miles away. But oldEphraim came freshly from its scenes; from the table that he served,around which the familiar faces were grouped; from the fireside hereplenished, musical with the voices that Julius loved. He caught aglimpse, he heard an echo, through the old gossip's talk, and thus thesymposium was prolonged. The old negro told the neighborhood news aswell; who was dead, and how and why they died; who was married, and howand when this occurred; what ladies "received Yankee officers," for somethere were who put off and on their political prejudices as easily as anold glove; what homes had been seized for military purposes or destroyedby the operations of war.
"De Yankees built a fote on Marse Frank Devrett's hill," he remarked ofthe home of a relative of the Roscoes.
"Which side," demanded the boy; "toward the river?"
"Todes de souf."
"Pshaw! Uncle Ephraim, it couldn't be the south; the crest of the hillslopes that way," Julius contradicted, still actively plying the spoon."You don't know north from south; you don't know gee from haw!"
"'Twas de souf, now! 'Twas de souf!" protested the old servant.
"Now look here," argued Julius, beginning to draw with the spoon uponthe broad, dusty top of a cedar chest close by. "Here is the DrippingSpring road, and here runs the turnpike. Now here is the rise of thehill, and--"
"Dar is Gen'al Belden's cavalry brigade camped at de foot," put in UncleEphraim, rising on his knees, taking a casual interest in cartography.
"And here is the bend of the river,"--the bowl of the spoon made a greatswirl to imply the broad sweep of the noble Tennessee.
"Dat's whar dey got some infantry, four reg'ments."
"I see," with several dabs to mark the spot, "convenient forembarkation."
"An' dar," said the old man, unaware of any significance in thedisclosure, "is one o' dem big siege batteries hid ahint de bresh--"
"Masked, hey? to protect launching and prevent approach by water; they_are_ fixed up mighty nice! And here goes the slope of the hill to thefort."
"No, dat's de ravelin, de covered way, an' de par'pet."
"As far down as this, Uncle Ephraim? surely not!"
"Now, ye ain't so much ez chipped de shell ob dis soldierin' business,ye nuffin' but a onhatched deedie! An' yere I been takin' ye fur aperfessed soldier-man! You lissen! _yere_ is de covered way ob deravelin, outside ob a redoubt, whar dey got a big traverse wid apowder-magazine built into it. I been up dar when dis artillery captainsent his wagons arter his ammunition."
"About where is the magazine located?" demanded Julius, gravely intent.
"Jes' dar--dar--"
"No, no!" cried the Confederate officer, in a loud, elated voice.
The old servant caught him by the sleeve, trembling and with a warningfinger lifted. Then they were both silent, intently listening.
The sunlight across the garret floor lay still, save for the bright barof glittering, dancing motes. The tall aspen tree by the window made nosound as it touched the pane with its white velvet buds. A waspnoiselessly flickered up and down the glass. Absolute quietude, save fora gentle, continuous murmur of voices in conversation in the librarybelow.
"I'se gwine ter take myse'f away from yere," said old Janus, loweringly,his eyes full of reproach, his nerves shaken by the sudden fright. "Yeain't fitten fur dis yere soldierin' business; jes' pipped de shell. Yougwine ter git yerself cotched by dat ar Yankee man whut we-all doneloaded ourself up wid, an' _den_ whar will ye be? He done got wellenough ter knock down a muel, an' I dunno _why_ he don't go on back terhis camp. Done wore out his welcome yere, good-fashion!"
But Julius had entirely recovered from the _contretemps_. He was gazingin fixed intentness at the map drawn in the dust on the smooth, polishedtop of the cedar chest.
"Uncle Ephraim," he said in an impressive whisper, "this powder-magazineis built right over a cave! I _know_, because there is a hole, a sort ofgrotto down in the grove, where you can go in; and in half a mile youcome right up against the wall of my cousin Frank Devrett's cellar. Weplayed off ghost tricks there one Christmas, the Devrett boys and me,singing and howling in the cave, and it made a great mystery in thehouse, frightening my Cousin Alice; but Cousin Frank was in the secret."
"Gimme--gimme dat spoon! I don't keer if de Yankees built deir magazinein de _well_ instead ob de cellar. I'm gwine away 'fore dat widder 'omanbegins arter me 'bout dat spoon an' bowl! Gimme de bowl, sah, it's desalad bowl!"
"Oh, I see," still pondering on the map; "they utilized part of thecellar, the wine vault, blown out of the solid rock, for the bottom ofthe powder-magazine to save work, and then covered it over with thetraverse, and--"
"Gimme dat bowl, Marse Julius, dat widder 'oman will be on our trackdirec'ly. She keeps up wid every silver spoon as if she expected ter own'em one day! But shucks! _you_ gwine ter miss her again, wid all disfoolishness ob playin' Rebel soldier. Dat ar widder 'oman is all dressedout in blue an' pink ter-day, an' dat Yankee man smile same ez apossum!"
Julius Roscoe's absorption d
ropped in an instant. "You are an egregiousold fraud!" he cried impetuously. "I saw her myself, yesterday, dressedin deep mourning."
"Thankee, sah!" hoarsely whispered the infuriated old negro. "Ye'sepowerful perlite ter pore ole Ephraim, whut's worked faithful fur youRoscoes all de days ob his life. I reckon I'se toted ye a thousand mileson dis ole back! An' I larned _ye_ how ter feesh an' ter dig in thegyarden,--dough ye is a mighty pore hand wid a hoe,--an' ter set trapsfur squir'ls, an' how ter find de wild bee tree. An' dem fine housesarvants never keered half so much fur ye ez de ole cawnfield hand; an'now dey hes all lef', an' de plantation gangs have all gone, too, an' yewould lack yer vittles ef 'twarn't fur de ole cawnfield hand! I'll fetchye yer breakfus', sah, in de mornin', fur all ye are so perlite.Thankee, kindly, sah, callin' _me_ names!"
And he took his way down the stair. Albeit in danger of capture anddeath, Julius flew across the floor to the head of the flight,beguilingly beckoning the old negro to return, for the ministering ravenhad cast up reproachful eyes as he faced about on the first landing.Although obviously relenting, and placated by the tacit apology, the oldservant obdurately shook his head surlily. Julius jocosely menaced himwith his fists; then, as the gray head finally disappeared, the youngman with a sudden change of sentiment strode restlessly up and down theclear space of the garret, feeling more cast down and ill at ease thanever before.
"Oh, why did I come home!" Julius said over and again, reflecting on hisheady venture and its scanty joy. It seemed that the great unhappinessof his life was about to be repeated under his eyes; once before he hadwitnessed the woman he loved won by another man. Then, however, he wasscarcely more than a mere boy; now he was older, and the defeat would gomore harshly with him. But was he not even to enter the lists, to breaka lance for her favor? Although he had controverted the idea of herdoffing her weeds in this connection, he now nothing doubted the fact.Her choice was made, the die was cast. And he stood here a fugitive inhis father's house, in peril of capture--nay, it might be even his neck,the shameful death of a spy--that he might once more look upon her face!
He could not be calm, he could no longer be still; and ceaselesslytreading to and fro after the house had long grown quiet, and thebrilliant radiance of the moon was everywhere falling through the broad,tall windows, his restless spirit was tempted beyond the bounds of theshadowy staircase that he might at least, wandering like some unhappyghost, see again the old familiar haunts. He passed through the halls,silent, slow, unafraid, as if invested with invisibility. He was grave,heavy-hearted, as aloof from all it once meant as if he were indeedsome sad spirit revisiting the glimpses of the moon. Now and again hepaused to gaze on some arrangement of sofas or chairs familiar to hisearlier youth. By this big window always lay the backgammon-board. Therewas the old guitar, with memory, moonlight, romantic dreams, allentangled in the strings! It had been a famous joke to drag that lightcard-table before the pier glass, which reflected the hand of the unwarygamester. He sank down in a great fauteuil in the library, and throughthe long window on the opposite side of the room he could see the sheenof the moonlight lying as of old amidst the familiar grove.
The sentry, with his cap and light blue overcoat, its cape fluttering inthe breeze, ever and anon marched past, his musket shouldered, allunaware of the eyes that watched him; the budding trees cast scantshadows, spare and linear, on the dewy turf; the flowers bloomed allghostly white in the parterre at one side. So might he indeed revisitthe scene were he dead, Julius thought; so might he silently,listlessly, gaze upon it, his share annulled, his hope bereft.
Were he really dead, he wondered, could he look calmly at Leonora's bookwhere she had laid it down? He knew its owner from her habit of markingthe place with a flower; it held a long blooming rod of the _PyrusJaponica_, the blossoms showing a scarlet glow even in the pallidmoonlight. One of the "ladies" had cast on the floor her "nun'sbonnet," a tube-like straw covering, fitted with lining and curtain ofblue barege and blue ribbons; that belonged to Adelaide, he was sure,the careless one, for the bonnets of the other two "nuns" hung primly onthe rack in the side hall. His father's pen and open portfolio lay onthe desk, and there too was the pipe that had solaced some knottyperplexity of his business affairs, growing complicated now in thecommercial earthquake that the war had superinduced.
Without doubt more troublous times yet were in store. Julius rosesuddenly. He must not add to these trials! He must exert every capacityto compass his safe withdrawal from this heady venture, for his father'ssake as well as his own. With this monition of duty the poor ghost badefarewell to the scene that so allured him, the old home atmosphere sodear to his sense of exile, and took his way silently, softly, up thestairs.
He met the dawn at the head of the flight, filtering down from a highwindow. It fell quite distinct on the map of the town and its defencesthat he had drawn, in the dust on the polished top of the cedar chest,and suddenly a thought came to him altogether congruous with the garishday.
"I know a chief of artillery who would like mightily to hear where thatmasked battery is! I do believe he could reach it from Sugar LoafPinnacle if he could get a few guns up there!"
Then he was reminded anew of the subterranean secret passage from thegrotto in the grove through the cave to the cellar of the old Devrettplace, where now there was a powder-magazine. "I'd like to get out ofthe lines with that map set in my head precisely." He thought for aminute with great concentration. "Better still, I'll draw it off onpaper."
He had half a mind to take Uncle Ephraim into his confidence to procurepencils and paper, but a prudent monition swayed him. This was goingfar, very far! He would possess himself of the map duly drawn, but hewould share this secret with no one. He resolved that when next thefamily should be out of the house, for daily they and their invalidguest strolled for exercise in the grove or wandered among the flowersin the old-fashioned garden, he would then venture into the libraryquietly and secure the materials.
The opportunity, however, did not occur till late in the afternoon. Hedid not postpone the quest for a midnight hazard, for he daily hopedthat with the darkness might come news of the drawing in of thepicket-lines, affording him a better chance to make a run for escape.Hence it so happened that when the elder members of the household camein to tea, they found the "ladies" already at the table, the twinsgloomily whimpering, the dumb child with an elated yet scornful air, herbright eyes dancing.
They had seen a ghost, the twins protested.
"Oh, fie! fie!" their grandfather uneasily rebuked them, and CaptainBaynell turned with the leniency of the happy and consequently theeasily pleased to inquire into this juvenile mystery.
Oh, yes, they _had_ seen a ghost! a truly true ghost! They mopped theireyes with their diminutive handkerchiefs and wept in great depression ofspirit. It was in the library, they further detailed, just about dark.And it had seen them! It scrabbled and scrunched along the wall! Andthey both drew up their shoulders to their ears to imitate the shrinkingattitude of a ghost who would fain shun observation and get out of theway.
Little Lucille laughed fleeringly, understanding from the motion oftheir lips what they had said. She gazed around with lustrous, excitedeyes; then, she turned toward Baynell, and with infinite elan, shesmartly delivered the military salute.
"Why," cried Mrs. Gwynn, on the impulse of the moment, "Lucille says itis Julius Roscoe; that is her sign for him. What is all this foolery,Lucille?"
But just then Uncle Ephraim, in his functions as waiter, overturned thelarge, massive coffee urn, holding much scalding fluid, upon the table,causing the group to scatter to avoid contact with the turbulent flood.The "widder 'oman" struggled valiantly to keep her temper, and saidonly a little of what she thought. The rearrangement of the table, withher awkward and untrained servant, for the service of the meal sooccupied her faculties that the matter passed from her mind.