CHAPTER XII. INTO WHICH A POTENTATE COMES
Virginia danced with the Prince, "by Special Appointment," at the ballthat evening. So did her aunt, Mrs. Addison Colfax. So likewise was MissBelle Cluyme among those honored and approved. But Virginia wore themost beautiful of her Paris gowns, and seemed a princess to one watchingfrom the gallery. Stephen was sure that his Royal Highness made thatparticular dance longer than the others. It was decidedly longer thanthe one he had with Miss Cluyme, although that young lady had declaredshe was in heaven.
Alas, that princes cannot abide with us forever! His Royal Highness badefarewell to St. Louis, and presently that same 'City of Alton' whichbore him northward came back again in like royal state, and this time itwas in honor of a Democrat potentate. He is an old friend now, Senatorand Judge and Presidential Candidate,--Stephen Arnold Douglas,--fatherof the doctrine of Local Sovereignty, which he has come to preach. Sogoes the world. We are no sooner rid of one hero than we are ready foranother.
Blow, you bandsmen on the hurricane deck, let the shores echo with yournational airs! Let the gay bunting wave in the river breeze! Uniformsflash upon the guards, for no campaign is complete without the military.Here are brave companies of the Douglas Guards, the Hickory Sprouts, andthe Little Giants to do honor to the person of their hero. Cannon arebooming as he steps into his open carriage that evening on the levee,where the piles of river freight are covered with people. Transparenciesare dodging in the darkness. A fresh band strikes up "Hail Columbia,"and the four horses prance away, followed closely by the "IndependentBroom Rangers." "The shouts for Douglas," remarked a keen observer whowas present, "must have penetrated Abraham's bosom at Springfield."
Mr. Jacob Cluyme, who had been a Bell and Everett man until that day,was not the only person of prominence converted. After the speech heassured the Judge that he was now undergoing the greatest pleasure ofhis life in meeting the popular orator, the true representative man ofthe Great West, the matured statesman, and the able advocate of nationalprinciples. And although Mr. Douglas looked as if he had heard somethingof the kind before, he pressed Mr. Cluyme's hand warmly.
So was the author of Popular Sovereignty, "the great Bulwark of AmericanIndependence," escorted to the Court House steps, past houses of hisstanch supporters; which were illuminated in his honor. Stephen,wedged among the people, remarked that the Judge had lost none of hisself-confidence since that day at Freeport. Who, seeing the Democraticcandidate smiling and bowing to the audience that blocked the widesquare, would guess that the Question troubled him at all, or that hemissed the votes of the solid South? How gravely the Judge listened tothe eulogy of the prominent citizen, who reminded him that his work wasnot yet finished, and that he still was harnessed to the cause of thepeople! And how happy was the choice of that word harnessed!
The Judge had heard (so he said) with deep emotion the remarks of thechairman. Then followed one of those masterful speeches which wove aspell about those who listened,--which, like the most popular of novels,moved to laughter and to tears, to anger and to pity. Mr. Brice andMr Richter were not the only Black Republicans who were depressed thatnight. And they trudged homeward with the wild enthusiasm still ringingin their ears, heavy with the thought that the long, hot campaign oftheir own Wide-Awakes might be in vain.
They had a grim reproof from Judge Whipple in the morning.
"So you too, gentlemen, took opium last night," was all he said.
The dreaded possibility of Mr. Lincoln's election did not interfere withthe gayeties. The week after the Fair Mr. Clarence Colfax gave a greatdance at Bellegarde, in honor of his cousin, Virginia, to which Mr.Stephen Brice was not invited. A majority of Company A was there.Virginia would have liked to have had them in uniform.
It was at this time that Anne Brinsmade took the notion of having a ballin costume. Virginia, on hearing the news, rode over from Bellegarde,and flinging her reins to Nicodemus ran up to Anne's littledressing-room.
"Whom have you invited, Anne?" she demanded.
Anne ran over the long list of their acquaintance, but there was onename she omitted.
"Are you sure that that is all?" asked Virginia, searchingly, when shehad finished.
Anne looked mystified.
"I have invited Stephen Brice, Jinny," she said. "But!--"
"But!" cried Virginia. "I knew it. Am I to be confronted with thatYankee everywhere I go? It is always 'Stephen Brice', and he is usheredin with a but."
Anne was quite overcome by this outburst. She had dignity, however, andplenty of it. And she was a loyal friend.
"You have no right to criticise my guests, Virginia."
Virginia, seated on the arm of a chair, tapped her foot on the floor.
"Why couldn't things remain as they were?" she said. "We were so happybefore these Yankees came. And they are not content in trying to depriveus of our rights. They must spoil our pleasure, too."
"Stephen Brice is a gentleman," answered Anne. "He spoils no one'spleasure, and goes no place that he is not asked."
"He has not behaved according to my idea of a gentleman, the fewtimes that I have been unfortunate enough to encounter him," Virginiaretorted.
"You are the only one who says so, then." Here the feminine got thebetter of Anne's prudence, and she added. "I saw you waltz with himonce, Jinny Carvel, and I am sure you never enjoyed a dance as much inyour life."
Virginia blushed purple.
"Anne Brinsmade!" she cried. "You may have your ball, and your Yankees,all of them you want. But I shan't come. How I wish I had never seenthat horrid Stephen Brice! Then you would never have insulted me."
Virginia rose and snatched her riding-whip. This was too much for Anne.She threw her arms around her friend without more ado.
"Don't quarrel with me, Jinny," she said tearfully. "I couldn't bear it.He--Mr. Brice is not coming, I am sure."
Virginia disengaged herself.
"He is not coming?"
"No," said Anne. "You asked me if he was invited. And I was going on totell you that he could not come."
She stopped, and stared at Virginia in bewilderment. That young lady,instead of beaming, had turned her back. She stood flicking her whip atthe window, gazing out over the trees, down the slope to the river. MissRussell might have interpreted these things. Simple Anne!
"Why isn't he coming?" said Virginia, at last.
"Because he is to be one of the speakers at a big meeting that night.Have you seen him since you got home, Jinny? He is thinner than hewas. We are much worried about him, because he has worked so hard thissummer."
"A Black Republican meeting!" exclaimed Virginia, scornfully ignoringthe rest of what was said. "Then I'll come, Anne dear," she cried,tripping the length of the room. "I'll come as Titania. Who will yoube?"
She cantered off down the drive and out of the gate, leaving a verypuzzled young woman watching her from the window. But when Virginiareached the forest at the bend of the road, she pulled her horse down toa walk.
She bethought herself of the gown which her Uncle Daniel had sent herfrom Calvert House, and of the pearls. And she determined to go as hergreat-grandmother, Dorothy Carvel.
Shades of romance! How many readers will smile before the rest of thistrue incident is told?
What had happened was this. Miss Anne Brinsmade had driven to town inher mother's Jenny Lind a day or two before, and had stopped (as sheoften did) to pay a call on Mrs. Brice. This lady, as may be guessed,was not given to discussion of her husband's ancestors, nor of herown. But on the walls of the little dining-room hung a Copley and twoStuarts. One of the Stuarts was a full length of an officer in the buffand blue of the Continental Army. And it was this picture which caughtAnne's eye that day.
"How like Stephen!" she exclaimed. And added. "Only the face is mucholder. Who is it, Mrs. Brice?"
"Colonel Wilton Brice, Stephen's grandfather. There is a markedlook about all the Brices. He was only twenty years of age when theRevolution began. That picture was painted much
later in life, afterStuart came back to America, when the Colonel was nearly forty. He hadkept his uniform, and his wife persuaded him to be painted in it."
"If Stephen would only come as Colonel Wilton Brice!" she cried. "Do youthink he would, Mrs. Brice?"
Mrs. Brice laughed, and shook her head.
"I am afraid not, Anne," she said. "I have a part of the uniformupstairs, but I could never induce him even to try it on."
As she drove from shop to shop that day, Anne reflected that itcertainly would not be like Stephen to wear his grandfather's uniform toa ball. But she meant to ask him, at any rate. And she had driven homeimmediately to write her invitations. It was with keen disappointmentthat she read his note of regret.
However, on the very day of the ball, Anne chanced to be in town again,and caught sight of Stephen pushing his way among the people on FourthStreet. She waved her hand to him, and called to Nicodemus to pull up atthe sidewalk.
"We are all so sorry that you are not coming," said she, impulsively.And there she stopped short. For Anne was a sincere person, andremembered Virginia. "That is, I am so sorry," she added, a littlehastily. "Stephen, I saw the portrait of your grandfather, and I wantedyou to come in his costume."
Stephen, smiling down on her, said nothing. And poor Anne, in her fearthat he had perceived the shade in her meaning, made another unfortunateremark.
"If you were not a--a Republican--" she said.
"A Black Republican," he answered, and laughed at her discomfiture."What then?"
Anne was very red.
"I only meant that if you were not a Republican, there would be nomeeting to address that night."
"It does not make any difference to you what my politics are, does it?"he asked, a little earnestly.
"Oh, Stephen!" she exclaimed, in gentle reproof.
"Some people have discarded me," he said, striving to smile.
She wondered whether he meant Virginia, and whether he cared. Stillfurther embarrassed, she said something which she regretted immediately.
"Couldn't you contrive to come?"
He considered.
"I will come, after the meeting, if it is not too late," he said atlength. "But you must not tell any one."
He lifted his hat, and hurried on, leaving Anne in a quandary. Shewanted him. But what was she to say to Virginia? Virginia was coming onthe condition that he was not to be there. And Anne was scrupulous.
Stephen, too, was almost instantly sorry that he had promised. Thelittle costumer's shop (the only one in the city at that time) had beenransacked for the occasion, and nothing was left to fit him. But when hereached home there was a strong smell of camphor in his mother's room.Colonel Brice's cocked hat and sword and spurs lay on the bed, andpresently Hester brought in the blue coat and buff waistcoat from thekitchen, where she had been pressing them. Stephen must needs yield tohis mother's persuasions and try them on--they were more than a passablefit. But there were the breeches and cavalry boots to be thought of, andthe ruffled shirt and the powdered wig. So before tea he hurried downto the costumer's again, not quite sure that he was not making a foolof himself, and yet at last sufficiently entered into the spirit of thething. The coat was mended and freshened. And when after tea he dressedin the character, his appearance was so striking that his mother couldnot refrain from some little admiration. As for Hester, she was intransports. Stephen was human, and young. But still the frivolity ofit all troubled him. He had inherited from Colonel Wilton Brice, thePuritan, other things beside clothes. And he felt in his heart as hewalked soberly to the hall that this was no time for fancy dress balls.All intention of going was banished by the time his turn had come tospeak.
But mark how certain matters are beyond us. Not caring to sit out themeeting on the platform, he made his way down the side of the crowdedhall, and ran into (of all people) big Tom Catherwood. As the SouthernRights politics of the Catherwood family were a matter of note in thecity, Stephen did not attempt to conceal his astonishment. Tom himselfwas visibly embarrassed. He congratulated Stephen on his speech, andvolunteered the news that he had come in a spirit of fairness to hearwhat the intelligent leaders of the Republican party, such as JudgeWhipple, had to say. After that he fidgeted. But the sight of himstarted in Stephen a train of thought that closed his ears for onceto the Judge's words. He had had before a huge liking for Tom. Now headmired him, for it was no light courage that took one of his positionthere. And Stephen remembered that Tom was not risking merely thedispleasure of his family and his friends, but likewise something ofgreater value than, either. From childhood Tom had been the devotedslave of Virginia Carvel, with as little chance of marrying her as a manever had. And now he was endangering even that little alliance.
And so Stephen began to think of Virginia, and to wonder what she wouldwear at Anne's party; and to speculate how she would have treated him ifhad gone. To speak truth, this last matter had no little weight in hisdecision to stay away. But we had best leave motives to those whosebusiness and equipment it is to weigh to a grain. Since that agonizingmoment when her eyes had met his own among the curiously vulgar at theFair, Stephen's fear of meeting Virginia had grown to the proportions ofa terror. And yet there she was in his mind, to take possession of it onthe slightest occasion.
When Judge Whipple had finished, Tom rose. He awoke Mr. Brice from atrance.
"Stephen," said he, "of course you're going to the Brinsmade's."
Stephen shook his head.
"Why not?" said Tom, in surprise. "Haven't you a costume?"
"Yes," he answered dubiously.
"Why, then, you've got to come with me," says Tom, heartily. "It isn'ttoo late, and they'll want you. I've a buggy, and I'm going to theRussells' to change my clothes. Come along!"
Steven went.