SUNDAY, the 12th of July, proved a long, restful sabbath to Marianand her father, and they spent most of its hours together. Thegreat tension and strain of the past weeks appeared to be over fora time. The magnificent Union victories had brought gladness andhopefulness to Mr. Vosburgh, and the return of her friends hadrelieved his daughter's mind. He now thought he saw the end clearly.He believed that hereafter the tide of rebellion would ebb southwarduntil all the land should be free.
"This day has been a godsend to us both," he said to Marian, asthey sat together in the library before retiring. "The draft hasbegun quietly, and no disturbances have followed. I scarcely rememberan evening when the murmur of the city was so faint and suggestiveof repose. I think we can both go to the country soon, withminds comparatively at rest. I must admit that I expected no suchexperience as has blessed us to-day. We needed it. Not until thisrespite came did I realize how exhausted from labor and especiallyanxiety I had become. You, too, my little girl, are not the bloominglassie you were a year ago."
"Yet I think I'm stronger in some respects, papa."
"Yes, in many respects. Thank God for the past year. Your sympathyand companionship have made it a new era in my life. You haveinfluenced other lives, also, as events have amply proved. Areyou not satisfied now that you can be unconventional without beingqueer? You have not been a colorless reflection of some socialset; neither have you left your home for some startling publiccareer; and yet you have achieved the distinct individuality whichtruthfulness to nature imparts. You have simply been developingyour better self naturally, and you have helped fine fellows tomake the best of themselves."
"Your encouragement is very sweet, papa. I'm not complacent overmyself, however; and I've failed so signally in one instance thatI'm vexed and almost saddened. You know what I mean."
"Yes, I know," with a slight laugh. "Merwyn is still your unsolvedproblem, and he worries you."
"Not because he is unsolved, but rather that the solution has provedso disappointing and unexpected. He baffles me with a trait whichI recognize, but can't understand, and only admit in wonder andangry protest. Indeed, from the beginning of our acquaintance hehas reversed my usual experiences. His first approaches incensedme beyond measure,--all the more, I suppose, because I saw inhim an odious reflection of my old spirit. But, papa, when to hiscondescending offer I answered from the full bitterness of my heart,he looked and acted as if I had struck him with a knife."
Her father again laughed, as he said: "You truly used heroic surgery,and to excellent purpose. Has he shown any conceit, complacency,or patronizing airs since?"
"No, I admit that, at least."
"In destroying some of his meaner traits by one keen thrust, youdid him a world of good. Of course he suffered under such a surgicaloperation, but he has had better moral health ever since."
"Oh, yes," she burst out, "he has become an eminently respectableand patriotic millionnaire, giving of his abundance to save thenation's life, living in a palace meanwhile. What did he mean byhis passionate words, 'I shall measure everything hereafter by thebreadth of your woman's soul'? What have the words amounted to? Youknow, papa, that nothing but my duty and devotion to you keeps mefrom taking an active part in this struggle, even though a woman.Indeed, the feeling is growing upon me that I must spend partof my time in some hospital. A woman can't help having an intenseconviction of what she would do were she a man, and you know whatI would have done, and he knows it also. Therefore he has not kepthis word, for he fails at the vital point in reaching my standard.I have no right to judge men in Mr. Merwyn's position becausethey do not go to the front. Let them do what they think wise andprudent; let them also keep among their own kind. I protest againsttheir coming to me for what I give to friends who have alreadyproved themselves heroes. But there, I forgot. He looks so like aman that I can't help thinking that he is one,--that he could comeup to my standard if he chose to. He still seeks me--"
"No, he has not been here since he heard Blauvelt's story."
"He passed the house once, hesitated, and did not enter. Papa,he has not changed, and you know it. He has plainly asked for agift only second to what I can give to God. With a tenacity whichnothing but his will can account for, perhaps, he seeks it still.Do you think his distant manner deceives me for a moment? Nor hasmy coldness any influence on him. Yet it has not been the coldnessof indifference, and he knows that too. He has seen and felt, likesword-thrusts, my indignation, my contempt. He has said to my face,'You think me a coward.' He is no fool, and has fully comprehendedthe situation. If he had virtually admitted, 'I am a coward, andtherefore can have no place among the friends who are surpassing yourideal of manly heroism,' and withdrawn to those to whom a millionis more than all heroism, the affair would have ended naturallylong ago. But he persists in bringing me a daily sense of failureand humiliation. He says: 'My regard for you is so great I can'tgive you up, yet not so great as to lead me to do what hundredsof thousands are doing. I can't face danger for your sake.' I havetried to make the utmost allowance for his constitutional weakness,yet it has humiliated me that I had not the power to enable himto overcome so strange a failing. Why, I could face death for you,and he can't stand beside one whom he used to sneer at as 'littleStrahan.' Yet, such is his idea of my woman's soul that he stillgives me his thoughts and therefore his hopes;" and she almoststamped her foot in her irritation.
"Would you truly give your life for me?" he asked, gently.
"Yes, I know I could, and would were there necessity; not in callousdisregard of danger, but because the greater emotion swallows upthe less. Faulty as I am, there would be no bargainings and prudentreservations in my love. These are not the times for half-way people.Oh think, papa, while we are here in the midst of every comfort,how many thousands of mutilated, horribly wounded men are dying inagony throughout the South! My heart goes out to them in a sympathyand homage I can't express. Think how Lane and even Strahan may besuffering to-night, with so much done for them, and then rememberthe prisoners of war and the poor unknown enlisted men, oftenterribly neglected, I fear. Papa, won't you let me go as a nurse?The ache would go out of my own heart if I tried to reduce this awfulsum of anguish a little. He whose word and touch always banishedpain and disease would surely shield me in such labors. As soonas danger no longer threatens you, won't you let me do a little,although I am only a girl?"
"Yes, Marian," her father replied, gravely; "far be it from me torepress such heaven-born impulses. You are now attaining the highestrank reached by humanity. All the avenues of earthly distinctioncannot lead beyond the spirit of self-sacrifice for others. Thisplaces you near the Divine Man, and all grow mean and plebeian to thedegree that they recede from him. You see what comes of developingyour better nature. Selfishness and its twin, cowardice, are crowdedout."
"Please don't praise me any more. I can't stand it," faltered thegirl, tearfully. A moment later her laugh rang out. "Hurrah!" shecried, "since Mr. Merwyn won't go to the war, I'm going myself."
"To make more wounds than you will heal," her father added."Remember the circumstances under which you go will have to receivevery careful consideration, and I shall have to know all about thematron and nurses with whom you act. Your mother will be horrified,and so will not a few of your acquaintances. Flirting in shadowsis proper enough, but helping wounded soldiers to live--But weunderstand each other, and I can trust you now."
The next morning father and daughter parted with few misgivings,and the latter promised to go to her mother in a day or two, Mr.Vosburgh adding that if the week passed quietly he could join themon Saturday evening.
So they quietly exchanged their good-by kiss on the edge of avolcano already in eruption.
An early horseback ride in Central Park had become one of Merwyn'shabits of late. At that hour he met comparatively few abroad, andthe desire for solitude was growing upon him. Like Mr. Vosburgh,he had watched with solicitude the beginning of the draft, feelingthat if it passed quietly his only remaining chance would be towr
ing from his mother some form of release from his oath. Indeed,so unhappy and desperate was he becoming that he had thoughtof revealing everything to Mr. Vosburgh. The government officer,however, might feel it his duty to use the knowledge, should therecome a time when the authorities proceeded against the propertyof the disloyal. Moreover, the young man felt that it would bedishonorable to reveal the secret.
Beyond his loyal impulses he now had little motive for effort.Marian's prejudices against him had become too deeply rooted, andher woman's honor for the knightly men her friends had proved toocontrolling a principle, ever to give him a chance for anythingbetter than polite tolerance. He had discovered what this meantso fully, and in Blauvelt's story had been shown the inevitablecontrast which she must draw so vividly, that he had decided:--
"No more of Marian Vosburgh's society until all is changed. Thereforeno more forever, probably. If my mother proves as obdurate as aSouthern jailer, I suppose I'm held, although I begin to think Ihave as good cause to break my chains as any other Union man. Shetricked me into captivity, and holds me remorselessly,--not like amother. Miss Vosburgh did show she had a woman's heart, and wouldhave given me her hand in friendship had I not been compelled tomake her believe that I was a coward. If in some way I can escapemy oath, and my reckless courage at the front proves her mistaken,I may return to her. Otherwise it is a useless humiliation and painto see her any more."
Such had been the nature of his musings throughout the long Sundaywhose quiet had led to the belief that the draft would scarcely createa ripple of overt hostility. During his ride on Monday morning henearly concluded to go to his country place again. He was growingnervous and restless, and he longed for the steadying influenceof his mountain rambles before meeting his mother and decidingquestions which would involve all their future relations.
As with bowed head, lost in thought, he approached the city byone of the park entrances, he heard a deep, angry murmur, as ifa storm-vexed tide was coming in. Spurring his horse forward, hesoon discovered, with a feeling like an electric shock, that a tidewas indeed rising. Was it a temporary tidal wave of human passion,mysterious in its origin, soon to subside, leaving such wreckageas its senseless fury might have caused? Or was it the beginningof the revolution so long feared, but not now guarded against?
Converging from different avenues, men, women, and children werepouring by the thousand into a vacant lot near the park. Their presenceseemed like a dream. Why was this angry multitude gathering herewithin a few rods of rural loveliness, their hoarse cries blendingwith the songs of robins and thrushes? It had been expected thatthe red monster would raise its head, if at all, in some purlieuof the east side. On the contrary its segregate parts were comingtogether at a distance from regions that would naturally generatethem, and were forming under his very eyes the thing of which hehad read, and, of late, had dreamed night and day,--a mob.
To change the figure, the vacant space, unbuilt upon as yet, wasbecoming an immense human reservoir, into which turgid streamswith threatening sounds were surging from the south. His eyes couldseparate the tumultuous atoms into ragged forms, unkempt heads,inflamed faces, animated by some powerful destructive impulse. Armsof every description proved that the purpose of the gathering wasnot a peaceful one. But what was the purpose?
Riding closer he sought to question some on the outskirts of thethrong, and so drew attention to himself. Volleys of oaths, stones,and sticks, were the only answers he received.
"Thank you," Merwyn muttered, as he galloped away. "I beginto comprehend your meaning, but shall study you awhile before Itake part in the controversy. Then there shall be some knock-downarguments."
As he drew rein at a short distance the cry went up that he was a"spy," and another rush was made for him; but he speedily distancedhis pursuers. To his surprise the great multitude turned southward,pouring down Fifth and Sixth avenues. After keeping ahead for afew blocks, he saw that the mob, now numbering many thousands, wascoming down town with some unknown purpose and destination.
Two things were at least clear,--the outbreak was unexpected, andno preparation had been made for it. As he approached his home ona sharp trot, a vague air of apprehension and expectation was beginningto manifest itself, and but little more. Policemen were on theirbeats, and the city on the fashionable avenues and cross-streetswore its midsummer aspect. Before entering his own home he obeyedan impulse to gallop by the Vosburgh residence. All was still quiet,and Marian, with surprise, saw him clattering past in a way thatseemed reckless and undignified.
On reaching his home he followed his groom to the stable, and said,quietly: "You are an old family servant, but you must now give mepositive assurance that I can trust you. There is a riot in thecity, and there is no telling what house will be safe. Will youmount guard night and day in my absence?"
"Faix, sur, I will. Oi'll sarve ye as I did yer fayther afore ye."
"I believe you, but would shoot you if treacherous. You know I'vebeen expecting this trouble. Keep the horse saddled. Bar and bolteverything. I shall be in and out at all hours, but will enter bythe little side-door in the stable. Watch for my signal, and beready to open to me only any door, and bolt it instantly after me.Leave all the weapons about the house just where I have put them.If any one asks for me, say I'm out and you don't know when I'llbe back. Learn to recognize my voice and signal, no matter howdisguised I am."
The faithful old servant promised everything, and was soonexecuting orders. Before their neighbors had taken the alarm, theheavy shutters were closed, and the unusual precautions that in thefamily's absence had been adopted rendered access possible onlyto great violence. On reaching his room Merwyn thought for a fewmoments. He was intensely excited, and there was a gleam of wildhope in his eyes, but he felt with proud exultation that in hismanner he was imitating his father. Not a motion was hasty or useless.Right or wrong, in the solitude of his room or in the midst of themob, his brain should direct his hand.
"And now my hand is free!" he exclaimed, aloud; "my oath cannotshackle it now."
His first conclusion was to mingle with the mob and learn thenature and objects of the enemy. He believed the information wouldbe valuable to Mr. Vosburgh and the police authorities. Havingaccomplished this purpose he would join any organized resistance hecould find, at the same time always seeking to shield Marian fromthe possibility of danger.
He had already been shown that in order to understand the characterand aims of the mob he must appear to be one of them, and he decidedthat he could carry off the disguise of a young city mechanic betterthan any other.
This plan he carried out by donning from his own wardrobe a plaindark flannel suit, which, when it had been rolled in dust and oil,and received a judicious rip here and there, presented the appearanceof a costume of a workman just from his shop. With further injunctionsto Thomas and the old serving-woman, he made his way rapidly tothe north-east, where the smoke of a conflagration proved that thespirit of mischief was increasing.
One would not have guessed, as he hurried up Third Avenue, that hewas well armed, but there were two small, yet effective revolversand a dirk upon his person. As has been related before, he hadpractised for this emergency, and could be as quick as a flash withhis weapon.
He had acted with the celerity of youth, guided by definite plans,and soon began to make his way quietly through the throng thatblocked the avenue, gradually approaching the fire at the corner of45th Street. At first the crowd was a mystery to him, so orderly,quiet, and inoffensive did it appear, although composed largelyof the very dregs of the slums. The crackling, roaring flames,devouring tenement-houses, were equally mysterious. No one wasseeking to extinguish them, although the occupants of the houseswere escaping for their lives, dragging out their humble effects.The crowd merely looked on with a pleased, satisfied expression.After a moment's thought Merwyn remembered that the draft had beenbegun in one of the burning houses, and was told by a bystander,"We smashed the ranch and broke some jaws before the bonfire."
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sp; That the crowd was only a purring tiger was soon proved, for someone near said, "There's Kennedy, chief of the cops;" and it seemedscarcely a moment before the officer was surrounded by an infuriatedthrong who were raining curses and blows upon him.
Merwyn made an impulsive spring forward in his defence, but a dozenforms intervened, and his effort was supposed to be as hostile asthat of the rioters. The very numbers that sought to destroy Kennedygave him a chance, for they impeded one another, and, regaining hisfeet, he led a wild chase across a vacant lot, pursued by a hootingmob as if he were a mad dog. The crowd that filled the streetalmost as far as eye could reach now began to sway back and forthas if coming under the influence of some new impulse, and Merwynwas so wedged in that he had to move with the others. Being tallhe saw that Kennedy, after the most brutal treatment, was rescuedalmost by a miracle, apparently more dead than alive. It alsobecame clear to him that the least suspicion of his character andpurpose would cost him his life instantly. He therefore resolvedon the utmost self-control. He was ready to risk his life, but notto throw it away uselessly,--not at least till he knew that Marianwas safe. It was his duty now to investigate the mob, not fightit.
The next excitement was caused by the cry, "The soldiers are coming!"
These proved to be a small detachment of the invalid corps, whoshowed their comprehension of affairs by firing over the rioters'heads, thinking to disperse them by a little noise. The mob settledthe question of noise by howling as if a menagerie had broken loose,and, rushing upon the handful of men, snatched their muskets, firstpounding the almost paralyzed veterans, and then chasing them asa wilderness of wolves would pursue a small array of sheep.
As Merwyn stepped down from a dray, whereon he had witnessed thescene, he muttered, indiscreetly, "What does such nonsense amountto!"
A big hulking fellow, carrying a bar of iron, who had stood besidehim, and who apparently had had his suspicions, asked, fiercely,"An' what did ye expect it wud amount to? An' what's the nonsenseye're growlin' at? By the holy poker oi belave you're a spy."
"Yis, prove that, and I'll cut his heart out," cried an inebriatedwoman, brandishing a knife a foot long.
"Yes, prove it, you thunderin' fool!" cried Merwyn.
"The cops are comin' now, and you want to begin a fight amongourselves."
True enough, the cry came ringing up the avenue, "The cops comin.'"
"Oh, an' ye's wan uv us, oi'll stan' by ye; but oi've got me eyeon ye, and 'ud think no more o' brainin' ye than a puppy."
"Try brainin' the cops first, if yer know when yer well off," repliedMerwyn, drawing a pistol. "I didn't come out to fight bullies inour crowd."
The momentary excitement caused by this altercation was swallowedup by the advent of a squad of police, which wheeled into the avenuefrom 43d Street, and checked the pursuit of the bleeding remnantsof the invalid corps. Those immediately around the young man pressedforward to see what took place, he following, but edging towardsthe sidewalk, with the eager purpose to see the first fight betweenthe mob and the police.
CHAPTER XLII.
THAT WORST OF MONSTERS, A MOB.