CHAPTER IX
That night, so long his step went to and fro in his room as he paced thefloor, for he could not sleep and he could not be still, that the Rebel,hidden in the attic, was visited by grave monitions concerning hisneighbor and did not venture out to roam the stairways and halls and theunoccupied precincts of the ground floor as he was wont to do.
"'The son of Belial' has something on his mind, to a certainty, and Ihope to the powers 'tisn't me," Julius said now and again, as helistened. He had sat long in his rickety arm-chair in the broad slant ofthe moonlight, that fell athwart the dim furniture and the gray shadows,for the night continued fair and the moon was specially brilliant. Oncein the clear glow he saw distinctly in the further spaces the figure ofa man, watchful-eyed, eager, springing toward him as he moved, and heexperienced the cold chill of despair before he realized that it was hisown reflection in a dull mirror at the opposite side of the great roomthat had elicited this apparition of terror. He took himself quickly outof the range of its reflection.
"Two Johnny Rebs are a crowd in this garret! I have just about roomenough for myself. I'm not recruiting."
He crept silently to the bed and lay down at full length, all dressedand booted as he was, his hands clasped under his head, with themoonlight in his eyes and illuminating his sleepless pillow, stilllistening to the regular step marching to and fro in the room below.
Julius did not court slumber.
"I must keep the watch with you, my fine fellow," he said resolutely.
Though there was a strong coercion to wakefulness in the propinquity ofthat spirit of unrest which possessed his enemy so close at hand, hiseyes once grew heavy-lidded and opened with a sudden start as, halfdreaming, he fancied a stealthy approach. He sprang from the recumbentposture, and the floor creaked under the abrupt movement. This gave himpause, and he slowly collected his faculties. Surely the stranger wouldhardly venture, even under the relentless scourge of his own wakefulthoughts, to roam about the house in search of peace or the surcease ofmental tyranny that change might effect. This might savor of disrespectto his host, yet Julius canvassed the suggestion. These were untowardtimes, and strange people were queerly mannered. The officer must havelearned in the length of his residence here that the great vacant atticwas untenanted wholly, and of course he knew that the ground floor wasaltogether unoccupied by night. He might descend and light the librarylamp and read. He might indeed roam the deserted rooms with the samesort of satisfaction that Julius himself had already felt in the greatspaces, the absolute quiet, the still moonlight, the long abeyance ofday with its procrastination of the sordid problems and the toilsomebusiness of life. If he had chanced to meet the Rebel on the stairs, hewould scarcely have thought the apparition a spectral manifestation, asthe poor little twins had construed the encounter in the library, forold Janus, trembling and terrified, had detailed the significance of thescene in the dining room afterward, and the eagerness of Julius to getaway, to be off, had been redoubled. Daily he had hoped for news of theapproach of the picket-lines, and daily the old servant wrung his handsand made his report, of which the burden was, "Wuss an' wuss!"--ordetailed a "scrimmage" in which "dem scand'lous Rebs had run liketuckies, an' deir line is furder off dan it eber was afore!"
The Confederate officer, nevertheless, had hitherto felt a degree ofsafety in the attic and had the resources of a manly patience to awaitthe event. This nocturnal eccentricity on the part of the guest of thehouse, however, roused new forebodings. It bore in its own conditionsthe inception of added danger. It was unprecedented. It marked aturbulent restlessness and the element of change. In the evidentlyagitated state of the stranger's nerves, some trifle, the scamper of arat, the dislodgment of the rickety old cornice of this bedstead, thefall of one of the girandoles, teetering over there on a chest ofdrawers, might rouse him with its clamor and justify the ascent of theattic stairs to investigate its source. These were troublous times.There were stories forever afloat of lawless marauders. Smoke-houseswere broken into and pillaged. Mansions were robbed and fired, and theirtenants, chiefly women and children, fleeing into the cornfields tohide, watched the roof-tree flare. It was hard for the authorities tofind and fix the responsibility for these dread deeds in remoteinaccessible spots, and it would be culpable neglect for this Federalofficer to tolerate the suggestion of an ill-omened noise or anunaccustomed presence without seeking out its cause. Evidently anyaccident would bring him upstairs. It was equally obvious that thegarret was no place to sleep to-night! Julius, as he lay on the pillow,could hardly rid himself of the idea of approach. Ever and anon helooked for the stealthy shadow of which he had dreamed, climbing in themoonbeams along the balusters of the stairway. Finally he stole silentlyout of the reach of the moonlight to a darker corner of the room,--thedeep recess of one of the windows which the shadow of a great branch ofthe white pine made duskier still. The tall tree, with its full,sempervirent boughs, showed the varying nocturnal tints that color maycompass, uninformed by the sun,--the cool suggestion of a fair dullgreen where the moonbeams glistered, the fibrous leaves tipped with adim sparkle; the deep umbrageous verdure where the darkness lurked andyet did not annul the vestige of tone. As he reclined on thewindow-seat, he discerned farther down a faint flare of artificiallight. It described a regularly barred square amidst the pine needles,and he presently recognized it as the light from the window of CaptainBaynell's room. Now and again it flickered in a way that told how thedisregarded candle was beginning to gutter in the socket. Still to andfro the regular footfalls went, muffled on the heavy carpet, but in thedead hush of night perceptible enough to the watching listener. At lastwith a final flare the taper burned out, but the moon was in the windowsalong the western side of the house, and still to and fro went thesteps, betokening the turmoil of unquiet thoughts. Julius watched howthe moonbeams shifted from bough to bough as the slow night lingered. Heheard the bells from the city towers mark the hour and the recurrentecho from the rocky banks of the river: then one far away, belated,faint, scarcely perceived, beat out the tally of the time on some remotecliff. Once more the air fell silent save for the jubilee of themocking-birds, for spring had come, and skies were fair, and thegossamer moon was a-swing in the night, and love, and life, and homewere dear, and the incredibly sweet, brilliant delight of song arose inpaeans of joy and faith. Even this waned after a time. A wind with thethrills of dawn in its wings sprang up, and Julius shivered with thechill. The dew was cold and thick in the pines, and the sward glitteredlike a sheet of water.
At last all was quiet and silent in the room below. Julius listenedintently. No creak of opening door; no footfall on the stair. Now, hetold himself, was the moment of danger, when he could no longer beassured of the man's movements, and could not even guess at hisintentions. He listened--still--still to silence. Silence absolute,null.
A bird stirred with a half-awakened chirp. The sky showed a clearertone, a vague blue, growing ever more definite. In the stillness, withan elastic, leaping sound, strong and sweet, the call of a bugle rangout suddenly from the fort on the heights, and, behold, with a flash ofred on the water, and a flare of gold in the sky, the sweet spring daywas early here.
It came glowing on with all the graces and soft splendors of the seasonas if it bore, too, none of the prosaic recall to the labors and sordidroutine and unavailing troubles and vexations of the workaday world. Thecamps were alive, the drums were beating, and all the echoes of thehills gave voice to martial summons. The flag was floating anew from theheights of the fort in the fresh and fragrant sunshine, and now andagain a bar or two of the music of a military band in the distance cameon the wind. The clatter of wagon wheels was audible from the stonystreets of the little city. The shriek of a locomotive split the air asan incoming train whizzed across the bridge. The river craft steamed andpuffed, and blockaded the landing, now backing water and now forgingforward, remonstrating with bells and whistles in strenuous dialogue.
It was a day like yesterday, yet to Baynell all the world had
changed.No day could ever be the same. Life itself was made up of depreciatedvalues. The blow had fallen so heavily, so suddenly, so conclusively.All, all was dead! It was much with a sense of decorous observance, ofreverential respect, that he made haste to bury his slain hopes, hisfoolish dream, his ardent expectations out of sight, never to riseagain. It was unwise to linger here, but not because of his owninterest, he said to himself. It would not unfit him for his duty. Thiswas all that was left to him. His feeling for this had never swerved. Itwas unaffected--all apart from what had come and gone. But his presencecould but be distasteful to her. And any moment might reveal his stateof feeling to others--to Judge Roscoe, who would resent it if it shouldsuggest an unwelcome urgency. And the neighbors--he had not beenunnoting of the glances of surprise that had already greeted thatradiant figure in white and red yesterday. While he winced a littlefrom the realization that his sudden departure would illustrate the sadplight of a love-lorn suitor, disregarded and cast aside,--for he had athousand keen susceptibilities to pride,--and he would fain the tonguesof gossips should forbear this sacred theme, it were best that he shouldgo, and that shortly.
When he appeared at the breakfast-table, pale and a trifle haggard, hegave no other token of his long vigil and the radical change that he hadsuffered in his life and prospects. He was a man of theory. He valuedhis self-respect. He insisted on his self-control. He had exerted allhis capacities, summoned all the resources of his courage; and this wasthe more needed because of the unconventional, informal footing on whichhe stood with the family. To say farewell and ride away might seem easyenough, but this was like quitting a home with affectionate domesticclaims. When he said that he thought he must return to camp to-day, thetwin "ladies" laid down knife and fork to enter their protest. Theylifted their voices in plaintive entreaty, and the deaf-mute looked atBaynell with limpid eyes and a quivering lip. But Uncle Ephraim,bringing in the waffles, had a vague suggestion of "It's time, too," inthe wag of his head. Judge Roscoe doubtless experienced a vividrealization of the advantage to accrue to the young soldier in theattic, whose security in his hiding-place was so endangered by thepresence of the Federal officer, for he was very guarded even in hisfirst cordial phrases, and thenceforward said no more than policyrequired. The twin "ladies," however, continued to loudly urge that thecaptain might find lizards in his cot; and asked if his tent had afloor; and warned him that frogs were everywhere now. "Tree-toads,o-o-oh! with injer-rubber feet," cried Geraldine, shudderingly, "thatblow out and climb!"
"And you'll have _no_ little girl to put a lump of sugar in yourafter-dinner coffee, Captain," said Adelaide, impressing the merits ofher methods.
"And no little girl to bring you a lighted taper for your cigar," chimedin Geraldine.
"It's _my_ turn to-day, Ger'ldine," cried the enterprising Adelaide,springing from her chair to monopolize the precious privilege.
"No--no! mine--_mine_! You had it yesterday!" cried Geraldine, racingafter her out of the room.
"'Twas day before!" protested Adelaide's voice far up the hallway.
"You had better get your cigar-case ready, to bestow the boon on thefirst comer," suggested Mrs. Gwynn. She had entirely recovered herequanimity, as he perceived. The state of his unsought affections wasnaught to her. The wreck of his heart--she had known wrecked hearts fora more bitter cause! Doubtless she thought the pain transitory in hiscase; already its contemplation seemed to have passed from her mindlike a tale that is told. She was sedately suave as always, barelyattentive, preoccupied, her usual manner, so incongruous with her youthand beauty, so at variance with her attire from the old wardrobe ofby-gone days,--the fresh white lawn, flecked with light blue, theruffles finished with "footing," and with a bobinet scarf about herthroat, wherein was thrust a pin of a single rose carved in coral. Shewas like some dainty maiden, no refugee from the world, sad and widowed.
She led the way to the library, partly to see that the "ladies" did notset themselves aflame as their short skirts flickered about the smalldully burning fire, still lighted night and morning against the chill ofthe crisp vernal air. They were, indeed, leaping back and forth over thefender with some temerity, and Baynell, seating himself by the table,his cigar between his teeth, thought it best to dispose of both thelighted spills by not drawing at all till both were alternately offeredand the extinction of each secured. Then, as the "ladies" flew back tothe dining room and out to the parterre, having volunteered to gatherthe rest of the flowers for the vases, Leonora and Baynell were left forthe time together.
It gratified him to perceive that she did not fear the introduction ofthe subject anew. She experienced not even a momentary embarrassment.She understood him so well, and the plane of his emotion.
The early morning sunshine was in the cheerful library windows; amocking-bird on a vine outside swayed so close, as he sang, that hisshadow continually flickered over the sill; the flowers were all freshlyabloom, and Mrs. Gwynn was standing on the opposite side of the table,her hands full of the spring blossoms that lay already on a tray,preparing to fill the great blue and white Wedgwood bowl.
Baynell, commenting on the splendor of the tulips as he smoked hiscigar, spoke of the craze for speculation in the bulb that had existedin Holland, and said he had once seen an old book of illustrations offamous prize-takers, with fabulous prices; he had always wondered howthey compared with the results of modern culture and the infinitevariety to which the bloom had been brought, and he had often wished tosee the book again.
"Why, we have that!" exclaimed Mrs. Gwynn, pausing with her hands fullof the gold variety "flamed" with scarlet. She glanced uncertainlytoward the bookshelves, then suddenly remembering--"Oh, I know now whereit is;--in the old bookcase upstairs, at the head of the third flight. Iwill call one of the ladies to go for it."
Baynell rose, his lighted cigar between his lips. "Don't trouble them;let me go!"
Julius heard the swift step of a young man on the stair. He knew thatthe crucial moment had come. And yet for the sake of the safety of hisfather, who had concealed him here, he dared not defend himself with hispistols. He had not a moment for flight or to seek a hiding-place. Hecould only nerve his powers to meet the crisis as best he might.
Baynell, taken wholly by surprise, felt his senses reel when, like thegrotesque inconsequence of a dream, a man in the uniform of aConfederate officer in the quiet, peaceful house confronted him at thehead of the flight.
"You are my prisoner!" Baynell mechanically gasped, clutching Juliuswith one hand and drawing his pistol with the other. "You are myprisoner!"
"In a horn!" retorted Julius, delivering his enemy a blow between theeyes which flung Baynell, stunned and bleeding, down the flight to thelanding, while the boy went by him like a flash.
That swift fiery figure, with its gray regimentals and its brass andsteel glitter, covered with blood, passed Leonora like some goryapparition as she stood in the library door, amazed, pallid, breathless,summoned by the sound of loud voices and the reverberating clamors ofthe collision on the stairs. Julius dashed through the drawing-rooms,opened the window on the western balcony, sprang over the rail, anddisappeared swiftly among the low boughs of the row of evergreen shrubsplanted there in old times as a wind-break, and stretching along thecrest of the hill.
And placidly in the sunshine the sentry paced his beat before the southportico, the reaches of the drive in sight, the appropriate entrance ofthe place, all unconscious of aught amiss, seeing nothing, hearingnothing,--till suddenly, with an effect of confusion, like thedistortions of a delirium, he was aware that the grove was full ofFederal soldiers, chiefly from the infantry regiment camped in theorchard to the west,--soldiers in wild disorder, hatless, shoeless,coatless, many of them,--all armed, all howling with an unexplainedexcitement, racing frantically hither and thither, bushwhacking withtheir rifles every bough in their reach. And now they came at full run,still howling and wild, toward the house.
"Halt!" cried the sentry. "Halt!"
The advance came surgi
ng on, regardless.
"Halt, or I fire!" once more the guard warned the onset. And he levelledhis weapon.
They clamored out words at him, all madly intermingled, allunintelligible, approaching still at full run.
Perhaps the sentinel had some excusable regard for his own safety, forin the unexplained excitement that possessed them, they were lesssoldiery than a frantic mob. He had warrant enough to fire into themidst of the crowd. But it seemed that he might in a moment have beentorn limb from limb. He interpreted his duty on the side of caution. Hecocked his weapon, fired into the air, and called lustily upon the"Corporal of the guard." The mass surged into the house, some by thefront door, some by the open library window, others scaled the balconyand pressed through the drawing-rooms and into the hall.
The terrified children clung to the skirt of Mrs. Gwynn's dress, asamazed and bewildered she stood in the wide long hall, by the greatcarved newel of the stairs, while with frantic interrogatories--"Whereis he? Where is he? Who is he?"--the intruders searched every nook andcranny of the lower floor. Destruction, the inadvertent incident ofhaste, or the concomitant of clumsy accoutrements, seemed to attendtheir steps. Now sounded the shiver of glass as a soldier burst throughone of the long French windows of the dining room. A trooper caught hishuge cavalry spurs in the meshes of a lace curtain in one of the parlorsand brought down cornice, lambrequin, and all with a crash. The crystalshades of the hall chandelier were not proof against a bayonet, heldunduly aloft at the posture of Shoulder Arms. A tussle for precedenceknocked a weighty marble statue, half life-size, out of the niche at theturn of the staircase. These casualties and the attendant noise, theheavy tramp of booted feet, the raucous sonority of their voices as theycalled suggestions to each other, all intensified the terror, thetumult of their uncontrolled and turbulent presence.
As a score raced up the stairs a sudden hush fell upon the rout. Thosestill below apprehended developments of moment and pressed to the scene.The foremost had encountered Judge Roscoe and old Ephraim bearing downto the second story the prostrate body of Captain Baynell, all drippingwith blood, while the floor of the stairs to the attic showed the stainsof the fall.
The unexpected spectacle stayed the tumult for a moment. Then as ahoarse murmur rose, Judge Roscoe turned toward the foremost standing atthe foot of the attic flight.
"Lend a hand here," he said with a calm, steady voice. Then, lookingover the balustrade to those below, "Has the surgeon come?"
The question went from one to another--"Has the surgeon come?" to thosethat filled the halls and made sudden excursions to and fro in theadjoining rooms as suspicion of hiding-places occurred to them; toothers that gorged the main staircase, packed close at its head, withnecks craning forward, and ears and eyes intent to hear and see what hadchanced.
By this time officers were in the house and the unwelcome voice ofcommand curtailed the activities of the mob and reduced it speedily tothe aspect of soldiery. The voice of command had irate intonations, andone or two of the younger officers showed a disposition to lay aboutwith the flat of their swords, as a "wand of authority" indeed, but,apparently inadvertently, dealing blows that had tingling intimations.They cleared the mansion quickly, the unruly manifestation serving tominimize its provocation.
To Judge Roscoe's infinite relief the officers were disposed to regardthe disturbance as one of those inexplicable attacks of folly whichsometimes lay hold on a mass of men, but which would be incapable ofaffecting them as individuals. For a search-party organized on a strictmilitary principle had carefully ransacked every portion of the houseand cellar and also the attic,--where no traces betrayed recenthabitation,--examined all the vineyard, hedges, shrubbery, and even theboughs of the great trees, and invaded the stable, barn, crib,ice-house, poultry yards, dairy, kennel, dove-cote, the miscellaneousoutbuildings, sties and byres, all empty, devoid even of the usualdomestic animals--absolutely with no result. No Confederate fugitive,covered with blood or in any other plight, was found, and in thethrice-guarded camps that surrounded the place escape seemed impossible.The ranking officer who ordered the search naturally believed that thesudden conviction of the presence of a Confederate soldier in the housewas a sheer delusion, promulgated and distorted by rumor. Some story ofCaptain Baynell's fall and wound, caught possibly from the messengersent to fetch the surgeon, had been misunderstood. This he consideredwas the only reasonable explanation. No one, he argued, could haveescaped under the circumstances. No Rebel was in the house or in thegrounds. It was impossible for a man to have fled except into the midstof the camps.
Notwithstanding the conviction thus reached, special precautionarymeasures were taken. New sentries were stationed on the rear and west ofthe house as well as in front. These posts were to be visited by asergeant with a patrol, twice during the night. If any Rebel hadcontrived to escape from the place, he would find it difficult indeed toreenter it. These duties concluded, the officer dismissed the wholematter as a canard or one of the inexplicable manifestations of humanfolly, and departed, leaving quiet descending upon the distracted scene.
It was the cook, Aunt Chaney, who had been sent at full speed for thesurgeon. She had vaguely understood from old Ephraim's aspect andfrantic mandate that something terrifying had befallen the household,and she did not realize until afterward the sacrifice of dignity heraspect must have presented as she ran, fatly waddling, over the hill,across the commons, and then up a path to a hospital on an eminenceoverlooking the town, formerly a Medical College. She was bonnetless,limping actively, for one of her large, loose slippers had gone, andgone forever. Its loss destroyed the equipoise of her gait; her unshodfoot was pierced with stones and chilled with the damp ground; hersleeves were rolled up, her arms held out at a bandy angle, for herfingers were dripping with cake-batter, and she did not have sufficientcomposure to wring them free till she was following the surgeon home.
The condition of the messenger intimated the seriousness of the call,and the surgeon hardly waited to hear more than the wild appeal--"Comeat once! Captain Baynell has killed his-self--Heabenly Friend! I wish hecould hev' tuk enny other premises ter hev' c'mitted the deed." As shetoiled along behind the surgeon, "Oh, my Lawd an' King!" she panted atintervals.
Baynell remained unconscious for some time. When at length he came tohimself he was lying quietly in the great, commodious bedroom that hehad of late occupied in the storm centre, the green Venetian blinds halfclosed, the afternoon sunlight softly flecking the carpet, the air ofhigh decorum and gentle nurture which so characterized the placepeculiarly in evidence, and old Ephraim noiselessly flitting about witha palm-leaf fan in his hand, ready to annihilate any vagrant fly withenough temerity to appear.
"Ye los' yer balance, sah, an' fell down de steers," he unctuouslyexplained.
"I know--I remember that--but who--where is that Rebel officer?"
"I reckon ye mus' hev' drempt about him, Cap'n," the "double-facedJanus" responded casually, with the superior air of humoring a delusion."Ye been talkin' 'bout him afore whenst ye wuz deelerious. But dar ain'tnone ob dem miser'ble slave-drivers round dese diggin's now'-days,praise de Lawd! Freedom come wid de Union army."
This assurance convinced the Federal officer. The old servant's interestwas so obviously with the invading force that his motive was not open toquestion. Moreover, it was not the first time that Baynell had dreamedof the Confederate officer, the erstwhile lover of Leonora Gwynn, whosesplendid portrait hung on the wall, and whom she often mentioned withinterest.
When the surgeon next called he expressed to his patient great surprise:"It is very natural that in your state of convalescence you should growdizzy and fall; but I can't for my life understand how you contrived toget such a blow from the edge of a step. It has all the style about itof a hit straight from the shoulder of an expert boxer. Uncle Ephraimdoesn't happen to be something of a pugilist, now?" he added jocosely,smiling and glancing at the old negro.
"I don't happen to be nuffin, sah, dat ain't perlite," grinned theamenabl
e "Janus."
"Your friends downstairs seemed frightened out of their wits,Baynell,--lest your wound should be imputed to them, I suppose," thesurgeon said openly, for he did not consider the presence of theex-slave.
"Yes, sah!" put in Uncle Ephraim, "eider me or Marster, or de widder'oman, or de ladies air sure bound ter hev' knocked him up dat way, kase'twould take a puffick reel-foot man ter fall downstairs dat fashion.Yah! Yah!"
It did not occur to Baynell to doubt this statement, and not one worddid he say to the surgeon of his dream of the presence of theConfederate officer. He made no effort to account for the disaster,merely lending himself to the surgeon's view that he had grown suddenlydizzy and the stairs were steep in the third flight.
This gave the surgeon a disquieting sense of suspicion some timeafterward. When returning from his tour of duty at the hospital he wasagain in the camp, he heard there the amazing rumor among the soldiersthat a Confederate officer, covered with blood, had been seen to issuefrom the Roscoe house and with lightning-like speed disappear among theshrubbery. He wondered that Baynell should not have mentioned thecommotion, forgetting that as he was unconscious he might be stillunaware of the fact.
Dr. Grindley was not of a designing nature; but he was consciouslyexperimenting when he said, rather banteringly, on his next visit, "Howabout the notion that there was a Confederate officer concealed in thishouse?"
Baynell looked annoyed. He had heard as yet not an allusion to the raidupon the house during the period of his insensibility, and he did notknow that the presence of a Confederate officer had even been rumored.He supposed that the doctor referred to the chance question he had askedUncle Ephraim, and he deprecated the fact that the old man should haveheedlessly repeated this. The dream of the altercation, as he fanciedthe recollection, was still vague in his mind, and with that quality ofunreality and so blended with other visions of his delirium and feverthat he in naught doubted its tenuous state as a figment of a disorderedbrain.
"There was no Rebel," he said somewhat gruffly.
"That was all merely the love of sensation?" asked the surgeon.
"Of course," Baynell assented, and fell silent.
This had been the conclusion among the officers of the surrounding camp,and it was not surprising to the surgeon that Baynell should share it,but there was a consciousness, a mortification, in his manner, thatimplied a personal interest and forced the question to be dropped. Thesurgeon had no wish to press it, and moreover he was anxious to avoidexciting the patient. He had some doubt as to the result of the fall; hewas meditating seriously on symptoms which indicated that the skull hadsustained a fracture. But when he remarked that all might be well ifCaptain Baynell remained quiet and stirred as little as possible, he wassurprised and dismayed by the vehemence with which the patient declaredthat he must move; he must leave the house; he could not, he would notstay under this roof another night, not even an hour longer. Herequested the surgeon to make arrangements to attend him elsewhere, andrang the bell to send a message to camp directing his servant to comeand get his personal effects. Only a sleeping-potion could restrain thisdetermination at the time, and the next day a return of the fever anddelirium solved the surgeon's problem how to bend the will of therefractory patient to the demands of his own best interests.
Uncle Ephraim found some difficulty in sustaining with composure thedisasters and excitement and fears that crowded in upon him. He mustplay his part with requisite spirit when in presence of the public, andhe must suffer in silence and alone. He dared not seek to confer apartwith his master as to the next step, lest he rouse suspicion that theyhad some secret understanding, and had indeed harbored the enemy. Hedared not confide his troubles even to his wife, Aunt Chaney, althoughhe yearned for sympathy, for reassurance. The old cook, however, had notbeen admitted to any detail of the secret presence of Julius in thehouse. For aught she knew, even now, he was five hundred miles away.
The perversity of the falling out of events dismayed and daunted oldEphraim. Only that morning--the morning of that momentous day--CaptainBaynell had announced at the table the termination of his visit.
"An' it wuz time, too. 'Fore de Lawd, it wuz surely time," the oldservant grumbled, in surly retrospect. For had the officer but taken hisleave and his cigar together, how different it might all have been!"Marse Julius mought hev' seen Miss Leonora, an' mebbe de ladies, an'come down inter de house an' smoked a _see_gar wid his Pa. Lawdy, massy!wid de curtains drawed, an' de blinds down. Dat's whut he honed for! Oh,'fore Gawd, I dunno whar dat baby-chile--dat pore leetle Julius--isnow!"
His face caught a fleeting grimace to remember the height of the"baby-chile,"--but as helpless, as forlorn, as some tiny waif, and oh,so terribly threatened in this beleaguered, in this thrice-guarded,town!
When at last he was dismissed from his station in the sick room by thesinking of Baynell into slumber under the influence of the sedativeadministered by the surgeon, old Ephraim, succumbing both in physiqueand in spirit, even in gait, stumbled downstairs and took his way intothe kitchen to find some talk of trifles, some stir of the familiarduties, that might enable him to be rid of his unquiet thoughts, of hisdread prognostications, of his sheer terror of the future. He sunk intoa wooden chair beside the stove, for the cooking of supper was alreadyunder way. He was feeling very old and weary. His countenance seemed tohave collapsed in some sort, so did his usual expression of brisksatisfaction and dapper respectfulness and reserve of intelligence propand sustain its contours. Its bony structure now seemed withdrawn. Itwas a sort of dilapidated mask of desolation. He drew a long sigh. Andthen he said:--
"Dis is a tur'ble, tur'ble world, mon!"
"Dis world is a long sight better dan de nex' world for _you_!" said hiswife, rancorously prophetic. "You hear _me_!"
The imperious Chaney had not collapsed. Her "head-handkercher" wasbestowed in a turban that had two high standing ends like tufts offeathers above her black, resolute face. Her black eyes snapped as shelooked beyond him, not at him. She was stepping about, stoutly, firmly,audibly, in her Sunday shoes, for no amount of mourning materialized thelost slip-shod _chaussure_--pressed deep in the mud of the highway bywagon-wheels and the uninformed hoof of an unimaginative army mule.
Uncle Ephraim gazed up in growing anxiety, not to say fright, for AuntChaney's mood was not suave. She suddenly paused on the other side ofthe stove, and, gesticulating across it with a long spoon, demanded:"You--ole--_dee_stracted--cawnfield--hand! What fur did you send _me_fur de doctor-man?"
"Whut you go fur, den?"
Aunt Chaney reflected on her appearance on the highway, in her oldhomespun dress, "coat," as she called it, one slipper, no bonnet, thecake-dough dripping from her hands. She remembered that some wagoners ofa forage train, struck by her agitated aspect, had looked back to laughfrom their high perches among the hay and fodder; she remembered thatsome little imp-like boys had twitted her, calling after her in theirhigh, callow chirp, and sorry was she that she had not left all to chasethem--to chase them till they died of fright! She--_she_ who wasaccustomed to flaunt in a "changeable" silk, and her bonnet had anostrich plume! She wore a bracelet, too, on grand occasions, and thiswas gold, solid and heavy, fine and engraved, for "Miss Leonora" herselfhad it bought in New Orleans expressly for her, after she had discoveredand unaided extinguished a midnight fire. Not that old Chaney would havewasted all this splendor on the errand for the doctor. If she hadthought but for a moment, she would have garbed herself as now, as shedid instantly on her return home, to save her self-respect,--in a purplecalico and a clean, white, domestic apron, with her respected andrespectable green-and-white checked sun-bonnet, all laundered, as ever,to absolute perfection. Her haste had destroyed her judgment.
"Whyn't ye tole me dat de man hed jes' fell downsteers,--when ye comeout yere, howlin' lak a painter wid a misery in his jaw. I 'lowed deYankee had deestroyed his-self on dese yere premises."
"So did I! So did I! He bled--and _bled_!" Old Ephraim paused, his facefallen. The
association of ideas brought by the mention of blood wasuncanny.
"What ailed de man dat he hatter fall downsteers?"
"I dunno." The denial was pat.
"Whut's he come down here fightin' in the War without he's able ter keepfrom fallin' downsteers? De Roscoes kin stan' up! I'll say dat fur 'em."
"Dey kin dat," replied the "double-faced Janus" admiringly, thinking ofJulius.
"How long he gwine stay?"
"'Twell he git well, I reckon."
"Den _I_ say dis ain't no house nor home. Dis is horspital NumberForty--dat's whut. Marse Gerald Roscoe ain't got no more sense 'n agood-sized chicken, dough he _is_ a jedge, ter hev' dat man yere furMiss Leonora ter keer fur, an' take ter marryin' agin 'fore her oldsweetheart, Julius Roscoe, kin git home. 'Fore de Lawd, I stood it ezlong ez dere seemed enny end to it, but now--" she banged her pots, andpans, and kettles about with virulence.
"Marse Julius," she continued, "_he's_ de man fur Leonora Roscoe,--_I_ain't gwine call her 'Gwynn,'--Marse Julius is good-hearted andfree-handed; I knowed him from a baby, an' he wuz a big one! I alwaysknowed he war in love wid her ever since dat Christmas up at the Devrettplace, when he an' some o' dem limber-jack Devrett boys got inter dewall or inter de groun'--I dunno whar--an' sung right inter de company'sear, powerful mysterious,--skeered 'em all! Marse Julius, he tuk hisguitar an' sung,--'Oh, my love's like a red, red rose!' An' she lookedlak one while she listened, fur she knowed his voice. I wuz peekin' inat de company at de winder--Lawd--Lawd! I 'lowed _dat_ would be amatch--but yere come along dat Gwynn feller!"
A sudden white flare of burning lard spread over the red-hot stove, forUncle Ephraim had sprung up so abruptly as to strike the long handle ofthe skillet and overturn the utensil.
"Ain't ye got no mo' use of yer haid 'n ter go buttin' 'roun' dekitchen, lak a ole deestracted Billy-goat, lak you is!" Aunt Chaneydemanded.
As the smoke circled about she snatched up the skillet with its flamingcontents.
"Git out my kitchen, else I'll scald de grizzled woolly soul out'n you!"
"Bress de Lawd, 'oman, _I_ ain't wantin' ter stay in yer kitchen," saidUncle Ephraim, suddenly spry and saucy and brisk,--a trifle more brisk,indeed, accelerating his pace toward the door, as she took two or threelong, agile, elastic steps toward him.
"I got other feesh ter fry!" he chuckled to himself.
For the blazing lard but typified a certain illumination in oldEphraim's mind.