An Original Belle

  MR. VOSBURGH and his daughter had passed a very anxious day, theformer going out but seldom. The information obtained from thecity had not been reassuring, for while the authorities had undertheir direction larger bodies of men, and lawlessness was notso general, the mob was still unquelled and fought with greaterdesperation in the disaffected centres. In the after-part of the dayMr. Vosburgh received the cheering intelligence that the SeventhRegiment would arrive that night, and that other militia organizationswere on their way home. Therefore he believed that if they escapedinjury until the following morning all cause for deep anxiety wouldpass away. As the hours elapsed and no further demonstration wasmade against his home, his hopes grew apace, and now, as he andhis daughter waited for Merwyn before dining, he said, "I fancythat the reception given to the mob last night has curbed theirdisposition to molest us."

  "O papa, what keeps Mr. Merwyn?"

  "Well, my dear, I know he was safe at noon."

  "Oh, oh, I do hope that this will be the last day of this fearfulsuspense! Isn't it wonderful what Mr. Merwyn has done in the pastfew days?"

  "Not so wonderful as it seems. Periods like these always developmaster-spirits, or rather they give such spirits scope. How littlewe knew of Acton before this week! yet at the beginning he seizedthe mob by the throat and has not once relaxed his grasp. He hasbeen the one sleepless man in the city, and how he endures thestrain is almost beyond mortal comprehension. The man and the hourcame together. The same is true of Merwyn in his sphere. He had beenpreparing for this, hoping that it would give him an opportunityto right himself. Fearless as the best of your friends, he combineswith courage the singularly cool, resolute nature inherited fromhis father. He is not in the least ambitious for distinction, butis only bent on carrying out his own aims and purposes."

  "And what are they, papa?"

  "Sly fox! as if you did not know. Who first came to your protection?"

  "And to think how I treated him!"

  "Quite naturally, under the circumstances. The mystery of his formerrestraint is still unexplained, but I now think it due to familyreasons. Yet why he should be so reluctant to speak of them is stillanother mystery. He has no sympathy with the South or his mother'sviews, yet why should he not say, frankly, 'I cannot fight againstmy mother's people'? When we think, however, that the sons of thesame mother are often arrayed against each other in this war, sucha reason as I have suggested appears entirely inadequate. All hisinterests are at the North, and he is thoroughly loyal; but when Iintimated, last evening, that he might wish to spend the night inhis own home to insure its protection, it seemed less than nothingto him compared with your safety. He has long had this powerfulmotive to win your regard, and yet there has been some restraintmore potent."

  "But you trust him now, papa?"

  "Yes."

  Thus they talked until the clock struck eight, and Marian, growingpallid with anxiety and fear, went to the darkened parlor windowto watch for Merwyn, then returned and looked at her father withsomething like dismay on her face.

  Before he could speak, she exclaimed, "Ah! there is his ring;" andshe rushed toward the door, paused, came back, and said, blushingly,"Papa, you had better admit him."

  Mr. Vosburgh smilingly complied.

  The young fellow appeared in almost as bad a plight as when hehad come in on Monday night and gone away with bitter words on hislips. He was gaunt from fatigue and long mental strain. His firstwords were: "Thank God you we still all safe! I had hoped to behere long before this, but so much has happened!"

  "What!" exclained Marian, "anything worse than took place yesterday?"

  "No, and yes." Then, with an appealing look; "Miss Marian, a cupof your good coffee. I feel as if a rioter could knock me down witha feather."

  She ran to the kitchen herself to see that it was of the best possiblequality, and Merwyn, sinking into a chair, looked gloomily at hishost and said: "We have made little if any progress. The mob growsmore reckless and devilish."

  "My dear fellow," cried Mr. Vosburgh, "the Seventh Regiment willbe here to-night, and others are on the way;" and he told of thereassuring tidings he had received.

  "Thank Heaven for your news! I have been growing despondent duringthe last few hours."

  "Take this and cheer up," cried Marian. "The idea of your beingdespondent! You are only tired to death, and will have a largerappetite for fighting to-morrow, I fear, than ever."

  "No; I witnessed a scene this evening that made me sick of it all.Of course I shall do my duty to the end, but I wish that otherscould finish it up. More than ever I envy your friends who can fightsoldiers;" and then he told them briefly of the scene witnessed inthe rescue of Mammy Borden and her son.

  "Oh, horrible! horrible!" exclaimed the girl. "Where are they now?"

  "I took them from headquarters to a hospital. They both need thebest surgical attention, though poor Zeb, I fear, is past help."

  "Merwyn," said Mr. Vosburgh, gravely, "you incurred a fearful riskin taking those people through the streets."

  "I suppose so," replied the young fellow, quietly; "but in a sensethey were a part of your household, and the poor creatures were insuch a desperate plight that--"

  "Mr. Merwyn," cried Marian, a warm flush mantling her face, "youare a true knight. You have perilled your life for the poor andhumble."

  He looked at her intently a moment, and then said, quietly, "Iwould peril it again a thousand times for such words from YOU."

  To hide a sudden confusion she exclaimed: "Great Heavens! whatdifferences there are in men! Those who would torture and killthese inoffensive people have human forms."

  "Men are much what women make them; and it would almost seem thatwomen are the chief inspiration of this mob. The draft may havebeen its inciting cause, but it has degenerated into an insatiablethirst for violence, blood, and plunder. I saw an Irishwoman to-daywho fought like a wild-cat before she would give up her stolengoods."

  The German servant Riten now began to place dinner on the table,Mr. Vosburgh remarking, "We had determined to wait for you on thisoccasion."

  "What am I thinking of?" cried Merwyn. "If this thing goes on Ishall become uncivilized. Mr. Vosburgh, do take me somewhere thatI may bathe my hands and face, and please let me exchange this horridblouse, redolent of the riot, for almost any kind of garment. Icould not sit at the table with Miss Vosburgh in my present guise."

  "Yes, papa, give him your white silk waistcoat and dress-coat,"added Marian, laughing.

  "Come with me," said Mr. Vosburgh, "and I'll find you an outfitfor the sake of your own comfort."

  "I meant to trespass on your kindness when I first came in, but mindand body seemed almost paralyzed. I feel better already, however.While we are absent may I ask if you have your weapons ready?"

  "Yes, I have a revolver on my person, and my rifle is in thedining-room."

  A few moments later the gentlemen descended, Merwyn in a sack-coatthat hung rather loosely on his person. Before sitting down hescanned the street, which was quiet.

  "My former advice, Merwyn," said his host; "you must make a lightmeal and wait until you are more rested."

  "O papa, what counsel to give a guest!"

  "Counsel easily followed," said Merwyn. "I crave little else thancoffee. Indeed, your kindness, Miss Vosburgh, has so heartened me,that I am rallying fast."

  "Since everything is to be in such great moderation, perhaps I havebeen too prodigal of that," was the arch reply.

  "I shall be grateful for much or little."

  "Oh, no, don't put anything on the basis of gratitude. I have toomuch of that to be chary of it."

  "A happy state of affairs," said Merwyn, "since what you regardas services on my part are priceless favors to me. I can scarcelyrealize it, and have thought of it all day, that I only, of allyour friends, can be with you now. Strahan will be green with envy,and so I suppose will the others."

  "I do not think any the less of them because it is impossible forthem to be here," said the young gi
rl, blushing.

  "Of course not. It's only my immense good fortune. They would givetheir right eyes to stand in my shoes."

  "I hope I may soon hear that they are all recovering. I fear thatMr. Lane's and Mr. Strahan's wounds are serious; and, although Mr.Blauvelt made light of his hurt, he may find that it is no trifle."

  "It would seem that I am doomed to have no honorable scars."

  "Through no fault of yours, Mr. Merwyn. I've thought so much ofpoor mamma to-day! She must be wild with anxiety about us."

  "I think not," said Mr. Vosburgh. "I telegraphed to her yesterdayand to-day. I admit they were rather misleading messages."

  From time to time Mr. Vosburgh went to the outlook on the street,but all remained apparently quiet in their vicinity. Yet an hour offearful peril was drawing near. A spirit of vengeance, and a desireto get rid of a most dangerous enemy, prompted another attack onMr. Vosburgh's home that night; and, taught by former experience,the assailants had determined to approach quietly and fight tillthey should accomplish their purpose. They meant to strike suddenly,swiftly, and remorselessly.

  The little group in the dining-room, however, grew confident withevery moment of immunity; yet they could not wholly banish theirfears, and Mr. Vosburgh explained to Merwyn how he had put bars onthe outside of the doors opening into the back yard, a bolt alsoon the door leading down-stairs to the basement.

  But they dined very leisurely, undisturbed; then at Marian's requestthe gentlemen lighted their cigars. Mr. Vosburgh strolled away tosee that all was quiet and secure.

  "I shouldn't have believed that I could rally so greatly in soshort a time," said Merwyn, leaning back luxuriously in his chair."Last night I was overcome with drowsiness soon after I lay down.I now feel as if I should never want to sleep again. It will be myturn to watch to-night, and you must sleep."

  "Yes, when I feel like it," replied Marian.

  "I think you bear the strain of anxiety wonderfully."

  "I am trying to retrieve myself."

  "You have retrieved yourself, Miss Vosburgh. You have become agenuine soldier. It didn't take long to make a veteran of you."

  "So much for a good example, you see."

  "Oh, well, it's easy enough for a man to face danger. Think howmany thousands do it as a matter of course."

  "And must women be timid as a matter of course?"

  "Women do not often inspire men as you do, Miss Marian. I know I amdifferent from what I was, and I think I always shall be different."

  "I didn't treat you fairly, Mr. Merwyn, and I've grieved over thepast more than I can tell you."

  "And you won't mistrust me again?"

  "Never."

  "You make me very happy, and you will never know how unhappy I havebeen. Even before I left the country, last autumn, I envied thedrummer-boys of Strahan's regiment. I don't wish to take advantageof your present feeling, or have you forget that I am still undera miserable restraint which I can't explain. I must probably resumemy old inactive life, while your other friends win fame and rankin serving their country. Of course I shall give money, but bah!what's that to a girl like you? When all this hurly-burly in thestreets is over, when conventional life begins again, and I seema part of it, will you still regard me as a friend?"

  His distrust touched her deeply, when she was giving him herheart's best love, and her strong feeling caused her to falter asshe said, "Do you think I can grow cold towards the man who riskedhis life for me?"

  "That is exaggerated gratitude. Any decent man would risk his lifefor you. Why, you were as brave as I. I often ask myself, can yoube a friend for my own sake, because of some inherent congeniality?You have done more for your other friends than they for you, andyet they are very dear to you, because you esteem them as men. Icovet a like personal regard, and I hope you will teach me to winit."

  "You have won it,--that is--"

  "That is--? There is a mental reservation, or you are too truthfulfor undoubted assurance when shown that gratitude has no place inthis relation."

  She averted her face from his searching eyes, and was deeplyembarrassed.

  "I feared it would be so," he said, sadly. "But I do not blameyou. On the contrary I honor your sincerity. Very well, I shallbe heartily glad of any regard that you can give me, and shall tryto be worthy of it."

  "Mr. Merwyn," she said, impetuously, "no friend of mine receives astronger, better, or more sincere regard than I give you for yourown sake. There now, trust me as I trust you;" and she gave himher hand.

  He took it in his strong grasp, but she exclaimed, instantly: "Youare feverish. You are ill. I thought your eyes were unnaturallybright."

  "They should be so if it is in the power of happiness to kindlethem!"

  "Come now," she cried, assuming a little brusqueness of manner whichbecame her well; "I've given you my word, and that's my bond. Ifyou indulge in any more doubts I'll find a way to punish you. I'lltake my 'affidavy' I'm just as good a friend to you as you are tome. If you doubt me, I shall doubt you."

  "I beg your pardon; no you won't, or cannot, rather. You know wellthat I have my father's unchangeable tenacity. It's once and alwayswith me."

  "You are speaking riddles," she faltered, averting her face.

  "Not at all. I am glad indeed that you can give me simple friendship,unforced, uncompelled by any other motive than that which actuatesyou in regard to the others. But you know well--your most casualglance would reveal it to you--that I, in whom you have inspiredsome semblance of manhood, can never dream of any other woman. Whenyou see this truth, as you often will, you must not punish me forit. You must not try to cure me by coldness or by any other of theconventional remedies, for you cannot. When we meet, speak kindly,look kindly; and should it ever be not best or right that we shouldmeet,--that is, often,--we shall not."

  "You are scarcely speaking as a friend," she said, in a low voice.

  "Will you punish me if I cannot help being far more?"

  "No, since you cannot help it," she replied, with a shy laugh.

  A new light, a new hope, began to dawn upon him, and he was aboutto speak impetuously when Mr. Vosburgh appeared and said, "Merwyn,I've been watching two men who passed and repassed the house, andwho seem to be reconnoitring."

  As Merwyn and Marian accompanied him to the parlor they heard theheavy booming of cannon off on the east side, and it was repeatedagain and again.

  "Those are ominous sounds at this time of night," said Mr. Vosburgh.

  "That they don't come from the rioters is a comfort," Merwyn replied;"but it proves what I said before,--they are becoming more boldand reckless."

  "It may also show that the authorities are more stern and relentlessin dealing with them."

  At last the sounds of conflict died away, the street appeared quietand deserted, and they all returned to the dining-room.

  The light enabled Merwyn to look eagerly and questioningly atMarian. She smiled, flushed, and, quickly averting her eyes, beganto speak on various topics in a way that warned Merwyn to restrainall further impatience; but she inspired so strong and delicious ahope that he could scarcely control himself. He even fancied thatthere was at times a caressing accent in her tone when she spoketo him.

  "Surely," he thought, "if what I said were repugnant, she would givesome hint of the fact; but how can it be possible that so soon--"

  "Come, Marian, I think you may safely retire now," said her father;"I hear Riten coming up."

  Even as he spoke, a front parlor window was crashed in. Merwynand Mr. Vosburgh sprung into the hall, revolvers in hand; Riteninstinctively fled back towards the stairs leading to the basement,in which she had extinguished the light, and Mr. Vosburgh told hisdaughter to follow the servant.

  But she stood still, as if paralyzed, and saw a man rushing uponhim with a long knife. Mr. Vosburgh fired, but, from agitation,ineffectually. Merwyn at the same moment had fired on another man,who fell. A fearful cry escaped from the girl's lips as she saw thather father was apparently doomed. The gle
aming knife was almostabove him. Then--how it happened she could never tell, so swift wasthe movement--Merwyn stood before her father. The knife descendedupon his breast, yet at the same instant his pistol exploded againstthe man's temple, and the miscreant dropped like a log. There weresounds of other men clambering in at the window, and Mr. Vosburghsnatched Merwyn back by main force, saying to Marian, "Quick! foryour life! down the stairs!"

  The moment the door closed upon them all he slid the heavy bolt.Riten stood sobbing at the foot of the stairs.

  "Hush!" said Mr. Vosburgh, sternly. "Each one obey me. Out throughthe area door instantly."

  Across this he also let down a heavy bar, and, taking his daughter'shand, he hurried her to the fence, removed the boards, and, when allhad passed through, replaced them. Mr. Erkmann, at his neighbor'srequest, had left his rear basement door open, and was on thewatch. He appeared almost instantly, and counselled the fugitivesto remain with him.

  "No," said Mr. Vosburgh; "we will bring no more peril than we muston you. Let us out into the street at once, and then bar and bolteverything."

  "But where can you go at this time?"

  "To my house," said Merwyn, firmly. "Please do as Mr. Vosburghasks. It will be safest for all."

  "Well, since you will have it so."

  "Hasten, hasten," Merwyn urged.

  Mr. Erkmann unlatched the door and looked out. The street was quietand deserted, and the fugitives rushed away with whispered thanks.

  "Marian, tie Riten's apron over your head, so as to partiallydisguise your face," said her father.

  Fortunately they met but few people, and no crowds whatever. Asthey approached Merwyn's home his steps began to grow unsteady.

  "Papa," said Marian, in agitated tones, "Mr. Merwyn is wounded; hewants your support."

  "Merciful Heaven, Merwyn! are you wounded?"

  "Yes, hasten. I must reach home before giving out."

  When they gained his door he had to be almost carried up the steps,and Mr. Vosburgh rang the bell furiously.

  Only a moment or two elapsed before the scared face of Thomasappeared, but as Merwyn crossed the threshold he fainted.

  They carried him to his room, and then Mr. Vosburgh said, "Bringa physician and lose not a second. Say it is a case of life anddeath. Hold! first bring me some brandy."

  "Oh, oh!" Marian moaned, "I fear it's death! O papa he gave hislife for you."

  "No, no," was the hoarse response; "it cannot, shall not be. It'sonly a wound, and he has fainted from loss of blood. Show your nervenow. Moisten his lips with brandy. You, Riten, chafe his wristswith it, while I cut open his shirt and stanch the wound."

  A second more and a terrible gash on Merwyn's breast was revealed.How deep it was they could not know.

  Marian held out her handkerchief, and it was first used to stopthe flow of blood. When it was taken away she put it in her bosom.

  The old servant, Margy, now rushed in with lamentations.

  "Hush!" said Mr. Vosburgh, sternly. "Chafe that other wrist withbrandy."

  But the swoon was prolonged, and Marian, pallid to her lips, sighedand moaned as she did her father's bidding.

  Thomas was not very long in bringing a good physician, who hadoften attended the family. Marian watched his face as if she wereto read there a verdict in regard to her own life, and Mr. Vosburghevinced scarcely less solicitude.

  "His pulse certainly shows great exhaustion; but I cannot yetbelieve that it is a desperate case. We must first tally him, andthen I will examine his wound. Mr. Vosburgh, lift him up, and letme see if I cannot make him swallow a little diluted brandy."

  At last Merwyn revived somewhat, but did not seem conscious of whatwas passing around him. The physician made a hasty examination ofthe wound and said, "It is not so severe as to be fatal in itself,but I don't like the hot, dry, feverish condition of his skin."

  "He was feverish before he received the wound," said Marian, in awhisper. "I fear he has been going far beyond his strength."

  "I entreat you, sir, not to leave him," said Mr. Vosburgh, "untilyou can give us more hope."

  "Rest assured that I shall not. I am the family physician, and Ishall secure for him in the morning the best surgical aid in thecity. All that can be done in these times shall be done. Hereafterthere must be almost absolute quiet, especially when he begins tonotice anything. He must not be moved, or be allowed to move, untilI say it is safe. Perhaps if all retire, except myself and Thomas,he will be less agitated when he recovers consciousness. Margy,you make good, strong coffee, and get an early breakfast."

  They all obeyed his suggestions at once.

  The servant showed Mr. Vosburgh and his daughter into a sitting-roomon the same floor, and the poor girl, relieved from the necessityof self-restraint, threw herself on a lounge and sobbed and moanedas if her heart was breaking.

  Wise Mr. Vosburgh did not at first restrain her, except by soothing,gentle words. He knew that this was nature's relief, and that shewould soon be the better and calmer for it.

  The physician wondered at the presence of strangers in the Merwynresidence, and speedily saw how Marian felt towards his patient; buthe had observed professional reticence, knowing that explanationswould soon come. Meanwhile he carefully sought to rally his patient,and watched each symptom.

  At last Merwyn opened his eyes and asked, feebly: "Where am I? Whathas happened?"

  "You were injured, but are doing well," was the prompt reply. "Youknow me, Dr. Henderson, and Thomas is here also. You are in yourown room."

  "Yes, I see," and he remained silent for some little time; thensaid, "I remember all now."

  "You must keep quiet and try not to think, Mr. Merwyn. Your lifedepends upon it."

  "My mind has a strong disposition to wander."

  "The more need of quiet."

  "Miss Vosburgh is here. I must see her."

  "Yes, by and by."

  "Doctor, I fear I am going to be out of my mind. I must see MissVosburgh. I will see her; and if you are wise you will permit me todo so. My life depends upon it more than upon your skill. Do whatI ask, and I will be quiet."

  "Very well, then, but the interview must be brief."

  "It must be as I say."

  Marian was summoned. Hastily drying her eyes, she tried to suppressher strong emotion.

  Merwyn feebly reached out his hand to her, and she sat down besidehim.

  "Do not try to talk," she whispered, taking his hand.

  "Yes, I must while I am myself. Dr. Henderson, I love and honorthis girl, and would make her my wife should she consent. I maybe dying, but if she is willing to stay with me, it seems as ifI could live through everything, fever and all. If she is willingand you do not permit her to stay, I want you to know that my bloodis on your hands! Marian, are you willing to stay?"

  "Yes," she replied; and then, leaning down, she whispered: "I dolove you; I have loved you ever since I understood you. Oh, livefor my sake! What would life be now without you?"

  "Now you shall stay."

  "See, doctor, he is quiet while I am with him," she said, pleadingly.

  "And only while you are with me. I know I should die if you weresent away."

  "She shall stay with you, Mr. Merwyn, if you obey my orders inother respects. I give you my word," said Dr. Henderson.

  "Very well. Now have patience with me."

  "Thomas," whispered the physician, "have the strongest beef teamade, and keep it on hand."

  Mr. Vosburgh intercepted the man, and was briefly told what hadtaken place. "Now there is a chance for them both," the agitatedfather muttered, as he restlessly paced the room. "Oh, how terriblyclouded would our lives be, should he die!"

  CHAPTER LII.

  MOTHER AND SON.