CHAPTER VI
A SAD LOVER
I shall never forget the scene there under the oak of the Sheraton frontyard, which met my gaze when Miss Grace and I came about the corner ofthe house.
Before us, and facing each other, stood my father and Colonel Sheraton,the former standing straight and tall, Colonel Sheraton with tightlyclenched hand resting on his stick, his white hair thrown back, hisshaggy brows contracted. My mother sat in the low rocker which had beenbrought to her, and opposite her, leaning forward, was Mrs. Sheraton,tall, thin, her black eyes fixed upon the men. Orme, also standing, hishands behind him, regarded the troubled men intently. Near at hand wasthe Sheratons' Jim, his face also fixed upon them; and such was his ownemotion that he had tipped his silver tray and dropped one of theSheraton cut glass julep glasses to the sod.
It was mid-afternoon, or evening, as we call it in Virginia, and thelight was still frank and strong, though the wind was softening amongthe great oaks, and the flowers were sweet all about. It was a scene ofpeace; but it was not peace which occupied those who made its centralfigures.
"I tell you, Cowles," said Colonel Sheraton, grinding his stick into theturf, "you do not talk like a Virginian. If the North keeps on thiscourse, then we Southerners must start a country of our own. Look,man--" He swept about him an arm which included his own wide acres andours, lying there shimmering clear to the thin line of the old BlueRidge--"We must fight for these homes!"
My mother stirred in her chair, but she made no speech, only looked atmy father.
"You forget, Colonel," said my father in his low, deep voice, "that thisman Lincoln has not yet been elected, and that even if elected he mayprove a greater figure than we think. He has not yet had chance to learnthe South."
Orme had been standing silent, his face indifferent or faintly lightedwith an habitual cynicism. Now he broke in. "He will never be elected,"he said emphatically. "It would ruin the entire industry of the South. Itell you Lincoln is thinking of his own political advancement and caringnothing for this country. The South _must_ secede, gentlemen--if youwill allow me as a stranger to venture an opinion."
My mother turned her gaze to him, but it was Sheraton who spoke.
"It goes back to the old Articles of Federation, our first compact," hesaid. "From the very first the makers of this country saw that by reasonof diverse industries the South was separated from the North. Thissecession has been written in the sky from the beginning of the world."
"Nay, brother Sheraton," broke in my mother eagerly "it was the union ofbrothership that was written first in the sky."
He turned to her with the bow of a gentleman. "It is you ladies who knitthe world together with kindness," he said. "Alas, that men must rend itwith fighting."
"Alas!" whispered she.
Sheraton's own face was sad as he went on with the old justification."Jefferson would turn over in his grave if he saw Virginia divided as itis. Why, Cowles, we've all the world we need here. We can live alonehere, each on his own acres, a gentleman, and all he needs of governmentis protection and fair laws. Calhoun was right. Better give us twopeaceful countries, each living happily and content, than one at warwith itself. Clay was a great man, but both he and Webster were fightingagainst the inevitable."
"That is true," interrupted Orme; "unquestionably true. Texas came nearbecoming a colony of England because this country would not take her.She declared for slavery, and had that right. The Spaniards had madeCalifornia a slave state, but the gold seekers by vote declared herfree. They had that right to govern themselves. As to the new landscoming in, it is their right also to vote upon the question of slavery,each new state for itself."
"The war has already begun on the border," said my father. "My friendand partner, Colonel Meriwether of Albemarle, who is with the Army inthe West, says that white men are killing white men all across the landswest of the Missouri."
"At least, Cowles," said Colonel Sheraton, pacing a short way apart, hishands behind his back, "we can wait until after this election."
"But if the Government takes action?" suggested Orme.
Sheraton whirled quickly, "Then war! war!" he cried, "War till eachVirginian is dead on his doorstep, and each woman starved at herfireside. John Cowles, you and I will fight--I _know_ that you willfight."
"Yes," said my father, "I will fight."
"And with us!"
"No," said my father, sighing; "no, my friend, against you!" I saw mymother look at him and sink back in her chair. I saw Orme also gaze athim sharply, with a peculiar look upon his face.
But so, at least, this argument ended for the time. The two men, oldneighbors, took each other solemnly by the hand, and presently, aftertalk of more pleasant sort on lesser matters, the servants brought ourcarriage and we started back for Cowles' Farms.
There had been no opportunity for me to mention to Colonel and Mrs.Sheraton something that was upon my mind. I had small chance forfarewell to Miss Grace, and if I shall admit the truth, this pleased mequite as well as not.
We rode in silence for a time, my father musing, my mother silent also.It was Orme who was the first I heard to speak.
"By the way, Mr. Cowles," he said, "you spoke of Colonel Meriwether ofAlbemarle County. Is he away in the West? It chances that I have lettersto him, and I was purposing going into that country before long."
"Indeed, sir?" replied my father. "I am delighted to know that you areto meet my friend. As it chances, he is my associate in a considerablebusiness enterprise--a splendid man, a splendid man, Meriwether. I will,if you do not mind, add my letter to others you may have, and I trustyou will carry him our best wishes from this side of the mountains."
That was like my father--innocent, unsuspicious, ever ready to acceptother men as worthy of his trust, and ever ready to help a stranger ashe might. For myself, I confess I was more suspicious. Something aboutOrme set me on edge, I knew not what. I heard them speaking furtherabout Meriwether's being somewhere in the West, and heard Orme also saycarelessly that he must in any case run over to Albemarle and call uponsome men whom he was to meet at the University of Virginia. We did notask his errand, and none of us suspected the purpose of his systematicvisiting among the more influential centers of that country. But if youwill go now to that white-domed building planned by Thomas Jefferson atCharlottesville, and read the names on the brazen tablets by the doors,names of boys who left school there to enter a harder school, then youwill see the results of the visit there of Gordon Orme.
My little personal affairs were at that time so close to me that theyobscured clear vision of larger ones. I did not hear all the talk in thecarriage, but pulled my horse in behind and so rode on moodily, gazingout across the pleasant lands to the foot of old Catoctin and the dimBlue Ridge. A sudden discontent assailed me. Must I live herealways--must I settle down and be simply a farmer forever? I wanted toride over there, over the Rock Fish Gap, where once King Charles' menbroke a bottle in honor of the king, and took possession of all thelands west of the Pacific. The West--the word in some way thrilled in myblood--I knew not why. I was a boy. I had not learned to question anyemotion, and introspection troubled me no more than it did my pointerdog.
Before we had separated at the door of our house, I motioned to mymother, and we drew apart and seated ourselves beneath our own oaks inthe front yard of Cowles' Farms. Then I told her what had happenedbetween Miss Grace and myself, and asked her if she was pleased.
"I am very content with thee," she answered, slowly, musingly. "Theemust think of settling, Jack, and Miss Grace is a worthy girl. I hope itwill bring peace between our families always." I saw a film cross herclear, dark eye. "Peace!" she whispered to herself. "I wish that itmight be."
But peace was not in my heart. Leaving her presently, I once more swungleg over saddle and rode off across our fields, as sad a lover as everclosed the first day of his engagement to be wed.