THE CRISIS

By Winston Churchill

BOOK III

Volume 6. 

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCING A CAPITALIST

A cordon of blue regiments surrounded the city at first from Carondeletto North St. Louis, like an open fan. The crowds liked best to go toCompton Heights, where the tents of the German citizen-soldiers werespread out like so many slices of white cake on the green beside thecity's reservoir. Thence the eye stretched across the town, catching thedome of the Court House and the spire of St. John's. Away to the west, onthe line of the Pacific railroad that led halfway across the state, wasanother camp. Then another, and another, on the circle of the fan, untilthe river was reached to the northward, far above the bend. Within was apeace that passed understanding, --the peace of martial law. 

Without the city, in the great state beyond, an irate governor hadgathered his forces from the east and from the west. Letters came andwent between Jefferson City and Jefferson Davis, their purport being thatthe Governor was to work out his own salvation, for a while at least. Young men of St. Louis, struck in a night by the fever of militarism, arose and went to Glencoe. Prying sergeants and commissioned officers, mostly of hated German extraction, thundered at the door of ColonelCarvel's house, and other houses, there--for Glencoe was a border town. They searched the place more than once from garret to cellar, mutteredguttural oaths, and smelled of beer and sauerkraut, The haughtyappearance of Miss Carvel did not awe them--they were blind to all manlysensations. The Colonel's house, alas, was one of many in Glencoe writtendown in red ink in a book at headquarters as a place toward which thefeet of the young men strayed. Good evidence was handed in time and timeagain that the young men had come and gone, and red-faced commandingofficers cursed indignant subalterns, and implied that Beauty had had ahand in it. Councils of war were held over the advisability of seizingMr. Carvel's house at Glencoe, but proof was lacking until one rainynight in June a captain and ten men spurred up the drive and swung into abig circle around the house. The Captain took off his cavalry gauntletand knocked at the door, more gently than usual. Miss Virginia was homeso Jackson said. The Captain was given an audience more formal than onewith the queen of Prussia could have been, Miss Carvel was infinitelymore haughty than her Majesty. Was not the Captain hired to do adegrading service? Indeed, he thought so as he followed her about thehouse and he felt like the lowest of criminals as he opened a closet dooror looked under a bed. He was a beast of the field, of the mire. HowVirginia shrank from him if he had occasion to pass her! Her gown wouldhave been defiled by his touch. And yet the Captain did not smell ofbeer, nor of sauerkraut; nor did he swear in any language. He did hisduty apologetically, but he did it. He pulled a man (aged seventeen) outfrom under a great hoop skirt in a little closet, and the man had apistol that refused its duty when snapped in the Captain's face. This waslittle Spencer Catherwood, just home from a military academy. 

Spencer was taken through the rain by the chagrined Captain to theheadquarters, where he caused a little embarrassment. No damning evidencewas discovered on his person, for the pistol had long since ceased to bea firearm. And so after a stiff lecture from the Colonel he was finallygiven back into the custody of his father. Despite the pickets, the youngmen filtered through daily, --or rather nightly. Presently some of thembegan to come back, gaunt and worn and tattered, among the grim cargoesthat were landed by the thousands and tens of thousands on the levee. Andthey took them (oh, the pity of it!) they took them to Mr. Lynch's slavepen, turned into a Union prison of detention, where their fathers andgrandfathers had been wont to send their disorderly and insubordinateniggers. They were packed away, as the miserable slaves had been, totaste something of the bitterness of the negro's lot. So came BertRussell to welter in a low room whose walls gave out the stench of years. How you cooked for them, and schemed for them, and cried for them, youdevoted women of the South! You spent the long hot summer in town, andevery day you went with your baskets to Gratiot Street, where theinfected old house stands, until--until one morning a lady walked outpast the guard, and down the street. She was civilly detained at thecorner, because she wore army boots. After that permits were issued. Ifyou were a young lady of the proper principles in those days, you climbeda steep pair of stairs in the heat, and stood in line until it becameyour turn to be catechised by an indifferent young officer in blue whosat behind a table and smoked a horrid cigar. He had little time to becourteous. He was not to be dazzled by a bright gown or a pretty face; hewas indifferent to a smile which would have won a savage. His duty was tolook down into your heart, and extract therefrom the nefarious scheme youhad made to set free the man you loved ere he could be sent north toAlton or Columbus. My dear, you wish to rescue him, to disguise him, sendhim south by way of Colonel Carvel's house at Glencoe. Then he will bekilled. At least, he will have died for the South. 

First politics, and then war, and then more politics, in this ourcountry. Your masterful politician obtains a regiment, and goes to war, sword in hand. He fights well, but he is still the politician. It was nota case merely of fighting for the Union, but first of getting permissionto fight. Camp Jackson taken, and the prisoners exchanged south, CaptainLyon; who moved like a whirlwind, who loved the Union beyond his ownlife, was thrust down again. A mutual agreement was entered into betweenthe Governor and the old Indian fighter in command of the WesternDepartment, to respect each other. A trick for the Rebels. How Lyonchafed, and paced the Arsenal walks while he might have saved the state. Then two gentlemen went to Washington, and the next thing that happenedwas Brigadier General Lyon, Commander of the Department of the West. 

Would General Lyon confer with the Governor of Missouri? Yes, the Generalwould give the Governor a safe-conduct into St. Louis, but his Excellencymust come to the General. His Excellency came, and the General deigned togo with the Union leader to the Planters House. Conference, five hours;result, a safe-conduct for the Governor back. And this is how GeneralLyon ended the talk. His words, generously preserved by a Confederatecolonel who accompanied his Excellency, deserve to be writ in gold on theNational Annals. 

"Rather than concede to the state of Missouri the right to demand that myGovernment shall not enlist troops within her limits, or bring troopsinto the state whenever it pleases; or move its troops at its own willinto, out of, or through, the state; rather than concede to the state ofMissouri for one single instant the right to dictate to my Government inany matter, however unimportant, I would" (rising and pointing in turn toevery one in the room) "see you, and you, and you, and you, and everyman, woman, and child in this state, dead and buried. " Then, turning tothe Governor, he continued, "This means war. In an hour one of myofficers will call for you and conduct you out of my lines. "

And thus, without another word, without an inclination of the head, heturned upon his heel and strode out of the room, rattling his spurs andclanking his sabre. 

It did mean war. In less than two months that indomitable leader waslying dead beside Wilson's Creek, among the oaks on Bloody Hill. What hewould have been to this Union, had God spared him, we shall never know. He saved Missouri, and won respect and love from the brave men who foughtagainst him. 

Those first fierce battles in the state! What prayers rose to heaven, andcurses sank to hell, when the news of them came to the city by the river!Flags were made by loving fingers, and shirts and bandages. Tremblingyoung ladies of Union sympathies presented colors to regiments on theArsenal Green, or at Jefferson Barracks, or at Camp Benton to thenorthwest near the Fair Grounds. And then the regiments marched throughthe streets with bands playing that march to which the words of theBattle Hymn were set, and those bright ensigns snapping at the front;bright now, and new, and crimson. But soon to be stained a darker red, and rent into tatters, and finally brought back and talked over and criedover, and tenderly laid above an inscription in a glass case, to berevered by generations of Americans to confer What can stir the soul morethan the sight of those old flags, standing in ranks like the veteransthey are, whose duty has been nobly done? The blood of the color-sergeantis there, black now with age. But where are the tears of the sad womenwho stitched the red and the white and the blue together?

The regiments marched through the streets and aboard the boats, andpushed off before a levee of waving handkerchiefs and nags. Thenheart-breaking suspense. Later--much later, black headlines, and grimlists three columns long, --three columns of a blanket sheet! "The City ofAlton has arrived with the following Union dead and wounded, and thefollowing Confederate wounded (prisoners). " Why does the type runtogether?

In a never-ceasing procession they steamed up the river; those calm boatswhich had been wont to carry the white cargoes of Commerce now bearingthe red cargoes of war. And they bore away to new battlefields thousandsof fresh-faced boys from Wisconsin and Michigan and Minnesota, gatheredat Camp Benton. Some came back with their color gone and their red cheekssallow and bearded and sunken. Others came not back at all. 

Stephen Brice, with a pain over his heart and a lump in his throat, walked on the pavement beside his old company, but his look avoided theirfaces. He wrung Richter's hand on the landing-stage. Richter was now acaptain. The good German's eyes were filled as he said good-by. 

"You will come, too, my friend, when the country needs you, " he said. "Now" (and he shrugged his shoulders), "now have we many with no cares togo. I have not even a father--" And he turned to Judge Whipple, who wasstanding by, holding out a bony hand. 

"God bless you, Carl, " said the Judge And Carl could scarce believe hisears. He got aboard the boat, her decks already blue with troops, and asshe backed out with her whistle screaming, the last objects he saw werethe gaunt old man and the broad-shouldered young man side by side on theedge of the landing. 

Stephen's chest heaved, and as he walked back to the office with theJudge, he could not trust himself to speak. Back to the silent officewhere the shelves mocked them. The Judge closed the ground-glass doorbehind him, and Stephen sat until five o'clock over a book. No, it wasnot Whittlesey, but Hardee's "Tactics. " He shut it with a slam, and wentto Verandah Hall to drill recruits on a dusty floor, --narrow-chestedcitizens in suspenders, who knew not the first motion in right aboutface. For Stephen was an adjutant in the Home Guards--what was left ofthem. 

One we know of regarded the going of the troops and the coming of thewounded with an equanimity truly philosophical. When the regiments passedCarvel & Company on their way riverward to embark, Mr. Hopper did notoften take the trouble to rise from his chair, nor was he ever known togo to the door to bid them Godspeed. This was all very well, because theywere Union regiments. But Mr. Hopper did not contribute a horse, nor evena saddle-blanket, to the young men who went away secretly in the night, without fathers or mothers or sisters to wave at them. Mr. Hopper hadbetter use for his money. 

One scorching afternoon in July Colonel Carvel came into the office, toohurried to remark the pain in honest Ephum's face as he watched hismaster. The sure signs of a harassed man were on the Colonel. Since Mayhe had neglected his business affairs for others which he deemed public, and which were so mysterious that even Mr. Hopper could not get wind ofthem. These matters had taken the Colonel out of town. But now thenecessity of a pass made that awkward, and he went no farther thanGlencoe, where he spent an occasional Sunday. Today Mr. Hopper rose fromhis chair when Mr. Carvel entered, --a most unprecedented action. TheColonel cleared his throat. Sitting down at his desk, he drummed upon ituneasily. 

"Mr. Hopper!" he said at length. 

Eliphalet crossed the room quickly, and something that was very near asmile was on his face. He sat down close to Mr. Carvel's chair with asemi-confidential air, --one wholly new, had the Colonel given it athought. He did not, but began to finger some printed slips of paperwhich had indorsements on their backs. His fine lips were tightly closed, as if in pain. 

"Mr. Hopper, " he said, "these Eastern notes are due this week, are theynot?"

"Yes, sir. "

The Colonel glanced up swiftly. 

"There is no use mincing matters, Hopper. You know as well as I thatthere is no money to pay them, " said he, with a certain pompous attemptat severity which characterized his kind nature. "You have served mewell. You have brought this business up to a modern footing, and made itas prosperous as any in the town. I am sorry, sir, that thosecontemptible Yankees should have forced us to the use of arms, and cutshort many promising business careers such as yours, sir. But we have toface the music. We have to suffer for our principles. 

"These notes cannot be met, Mr. Hopper. " And the good gentleman lookedout of the window. He was thinking of a day, before the Mexican War, whenhis young wife had sat in the very chair filled by Mr. Hopper now. "Thesenotes cannot be met, " he repeated, and his voice was near to breaking. 

The flies droning in the hot office made the only sound. Outside thepartition, among the bales, was silence. 

"Colonel, " said Mr. Hopper, with a remarkable ease, "I cal'late thesenotes can be met. "

The Colonel jumped as if he had heard a shot, and one of the notes fellto the floor. Eliphalet picked it up tenderly, and held it. 

"What do you mean, sir?" Mr. Carvel cried. "There isn't a bank in townthat will lend me money. I--I haven't a friend--a friend I may ask whocan spare it, sir. "

Mr. Hopper lifted up his hand. It was a fat hand. Suavity was come uponit like a new glove and changed the man. He was no longer cringing. Nowhe had poise, such poise as we in these days are accustomed to see inleather and mahogany offices. The Colonel glared at him uncomfortably. 

"I will take up those notes myself, sir. "

"You!" cried the Colonel, incredulously, "You?"

We must do Eliphalet justice. There was not a deal of hypocrisy in hisnature, and now he did not attempt the part of Samaritan. He did not beamupon the Colonel and remind him of the day on which, homeless andfriendless, he had been frightened into his store by a drove of mules. No. But his day, --the day toward which he had striven unknown andunnoticed for so many years--the day when he would laugh at the pride ofthose who had ignored and insulted him, was dawning at last. When we arethoughtless of our words, we do not reckon with that spark in littlebosoms that may burst into flame and burn us. Not that Colonel Carvel hadever been aught but courteous and kind to all. His station in life hadbeen his offence to Eliphalet, who strove now to hide an exultation thatmade him tremble. 

"What do you mean, sir?" demanded the Colonel, again. 

"I cal'late that I can gather together enough to meet the notes, Colonel. Just a little friendly transaction. " Here followed an interval of sheerastonishment to Mr. Carvel. 

"You have this money?" he said at length. Mr. Hopper nodded. 

"And you will take my note for the amount?"

"Yes, sir. "

The Colonel pulled his goatee, and sat back in his chair, trying to facethe new light in which he saw his manager. He knew well enough that theman was not doing this out of charity, or even gratitude. He reviewed hiswhole career, from that first morning when he had carried bales to theshipping room, to his replacement of Mr. Hood, and there was nothing withwhich to accuse him. He remembered the warnings of Captain Lige andVirginia. He could not in honor ask a cent from the Captain now. He wouldnot ask his sister-in-law, Mrs. Colfax, to let him touch the money he hadso ably invested for her; that little which Virginia's mother had leftthe girl was sacred. 

Night after night Mr. Carvel had lain awake with the agony of thoseEastern debts. Not to pay was to tarnish the name of a Southerngentleman. He could not sell the business. His house would bring nothingin these times. He rose and began to pace the floor, tugging at his chin. Twice he paused to stare at Mr. Hopper, who sat calmly on, and the thirdtime stopped abruptly before him. 

"See here, " he cried. "Where the devil did you get this money, sir?"

Mr. Hopper did not rise. 

"I haven't been extravagant, Colonel, since I've worked for you, " hesaid. "It don't cost me much to live. I've been fortunate ininvestments. "

The furrows in the Colonel's brow deepened. 

"You offer to lend me five times more than I have ever paid you, Mr. Hopper. Tell me how you have made this money before I accept it. "

Eliphalet had never been able to meet that eye since he had known it. Hedid not meet it now. But he went to his desk, and drew a long sheet ofpaper from a pigeonhole. 

"These be some of my investments, " he answered, with just a tinge ofsurliness. "I cal'late they'll stand inspection. I ain't forcing you totake the money, sir, " he flared up, all at once. "I'd like to save thebusiness. "

Mr. Carvel was disarmed. He went unsteadily to his desk, and none saveGod knew the shock that his pride received that day. To rescue a namewhich had stood untarnished since he had brought it into the world, hedrew forth some blank notes, and filled them out. But before he signedthem he spoke:

"You are a business man, Mr. Hopper, " said he, "And as a business man youmust know that these notes will not legally hold. It is martial law. Thecourts are abolished, and all transactions here in St. Louis areinvalid. "

Eliphalet was about to speak. 

"One moment, sir, " cried the Colonel, standing up and towering to hisfull height. "Law or no law, you shall have the money and interest, oryour security, which is this business. I need not tell you, sir, that myword is sacred, and binding forever upon me and mine. "

"I'm not afraid, Colonel, " answered Mr. Hopper, with a feeble attempt atgeniality. He was, in truth, awed at last. 

"You need not be, sir!" said the Colonel, with equal force. "If you were--this instant you should leave this place. " He sat down, and continuedmore calmly: "It will not be long before a Southern Army marches into St. Louis, and the Yankee Government submits. " He leaned forward. "Do youreckon we can hold the business together until then, Mr. Hopper?"

God forbid that we should smile at the Colonel's simple faith. And ifEliphalet Hopper had done so, his history would have ended here. 

"Leave that to me, Colonel, " he said soberly. 

Then came the reaction. The good Colonel sighed as he signed, away thatbusiness which had been an honor to the, city where it was founded, Ithank heaven that we are not concerned with the details of their talkthat day. Why should we wish to know the rate of interest on those notes, or the time? It was war-time. 

Mr. Hopper filled out his check, and presently departed. It was thesignal for the little force which remained to leave. Outside, in thestore; Ephum paced uneasily, wondering why his master did not come out. Presently he crept to the door of the office, pushed it open, and beheldMr. Carvel with his head bowed, down in his hands. 

"Marse Comyn!" he cried, "Marse Comyn!"

The Colonel looked up. His face was haggard. 

"Marse Comyn, you know what I done promise young MISS long time ago, befo'--befo' she done left us?"

"Yes, Ephum. "

He saw the faithful old negro but dimly. Faintly he heard the pleadingvoice. 

"Marse Comyn, won' you give Ephum a pass down, river, ter fotch Cap'nLige?"

"Ephum, " said the Colonel, sadly, "I had a letter from the Captainyesterday. He is at Cairo. His boat is a Federal transport, and he is inYankee pay. "

Ephum took a step forward, appealingly, "But de Cap'n's yo' friend, MarseComyn. He ain't never fo'get what you done fo' him, Marse Comyn. He ain'tin de army, suh. "

"And I am the Captain's friend, Ephum, " answered the Colonel, quietly. "But I will not ask aid from any man employed by the Yankee Government. No--not from my own brother, who is in a Pennsylvania regiments. "

Ephum shuffled out, and his heart was lead as he closed the store thatnight. 

Mr. Hopper has boarded a Fifth Street car, which jangles on with manyhalts until it comes to Bremen, a German settlement in the north of thecity. At Bremen great droves of mules fill the street, and crowd theentrances of the sale stables there. Whips are cracking like pistolshots, Gentlemen with the yellow cavalry stripe of the United States Armyare pushing to and fro among the drivers and the owners, and fingeringthe frightened animals. A herd breaks from the confusion and is drivenlike a whirlwind down the street, dividing at the Market House. They aregoing to board the Government transport--to die on the battlefields ofKentucky and Missouri. 

Mr. Hopper alights from the car with complacency. He stands for a whileon a corner, against the hot building, surveying the busy scene, unnoticed. Mules! Was it not a prophecy, --that drove which sent him intoMr. Carvel's store?

Presently a man with a gnawed yellow mustache and a shifty eye walks outof one of the offices, and perceives our friend. 

"Howdy, Mr. Hopper?" says he. 

Eliphalet extends a hand to be squeezed and returned. "Got themvouchers?" he asks. He is less careful of his English here. 

"Wal, I jest reckon, " is the answer: The fellow was interrupted by theappearance of a smart young man in a smart uniform, who wore an air ofgenteel importance. He could not have been more than two and twenty, andhis face and manners were those of a clerk. The tan of field service waslacking on his cheek, and he was black under the eyes. 

"Hullo, Ford, " he said, jocularly. 

"Howdy, Cap, " retorted the other. "Wal, suh, that last lot was an extry, fo' sure. As clean a lot as ever I seed. Not a lump on 'em. Gov'mentain't cheated much on them there at one-eighty a head, I reckon. "

Mr. Ford said this with such an air of conviction and such a sober facethat the Captain smiled. And at the same time he glanced down nervouslyat the new line of buttons on his chest. 

"I guess I know a mule from a Newfoundland dog by this time, " said he. 

"Wal, I jest reckon, " asserted Mr. Ford, with a loud laugh. "Cap'nWentworth, allow me to make you acquainted with Mr. Hopper. Mr. Hopper, Cap'n Wentworth. "

The Captain squeezed Mr. Hoppers hand with fervor. "You interested inmules, Mr. Hopper?" asked the military man. 

"I don't cal'late to be, " said. Mr. Hopper. Let us hope that our worthyhas not been presented as being wholly without a sense of humor. Hegrinned as he looked upon this lamb in the uniform of Mars, and added, "I'm just naturally patriotic, I guess. Cap'n, 'll you have a drink?"

"And a segar, " added Mr. Ford. 

"Just one, " says the Captain. "It's d--d tiresome lookin' at mules allday in the sun. "

Well for Mr. Davitt that his mission work does not extend to Bremen, thatthe good man's charity keeps him at the improvised hospital down town. Mr. Hopper has resigned the superintendency of his Sunday School, it istrue, but he is still a pillar of the church. 

The young officer leans against the bar, and listens to stories by Mr. Ford, which it behooves no church members to hear. He smokes Mr. Hopper'scigar and drinks his whiskey. And Eliphalet understands that the goodLord put some fools into the world in order to give the smart people achance to practise their talents. Mr. Hopper neither drinks nor smokes, but he uses the spittoon with more freedom in this atmosphere. 

When at length the Captain has marched out, with a conscious but manlyair, Mr. Hopper turns to Ford-- "Don't lose no time in presenting themvouchers at headquarters, " says he. "Money is worth something now. Andthere's grumbling about this Department in the Eastern papers, If we havean investigation, we'll whistle. How much to-day?"

"Three thousand, " says Mr. Ford. He tosses off a pony of Bourbon, but hisface is not a delight to look upon, "Hopper, you'll be a d--d rich mansome day. "

"I cal'late to. "

"I do the dirty work. And because I ain't got no capital, I only get fourper cent. "

"Don't one-twenty a day suit you?"

"You get blasted near a thousand. And you've got horse contracts, andblanket contracts besides. I know you. What's to prevent my goin' southwhen the vouchers is cashed?" he cried. "Ain't it possible?"

"I presume likely, " said Mr. Hopper, quietly. "Then your mother'll haveto move out of her little place. "

CHAPTER II

NEWS FROM CLARENCE

The epithet aristocrat may become odious and fatal on the banks of theMississippi as it was on the banks of the Seine. Let no man deceivehimself! These are fearful times. Thousands of our population, by thesudden stoppage of business, are thrown out of employment. When gauntfamine intrudes upon their household, it is but natural that they shouldinquire the cause. Hunger began the French Revolution. 

Virginia did not read this editorial, because it appeared in thatabhorred organ of the Mudsills, the 'Missouri Democrat. ' The wheels offortune were turning rapidly that first hot summer of the war time. Letus be thankful that our flesh and blood are incapable of the fury of theguillotine. But when we think calmly of those days, can we escape withouta little pity for the aristocrats? Do you think that many of them did notknow hunger and want long before that cruel war was over?

How bravely they met the grim spectre which crept so insidiously intotheir homes!

"Virginia, child. " said Mrs. Colfax, peevishly, one morning as they satat breakfast, "why do you persist it wearing that old gown? It has gottenon my nerves, my dear. You really must have something new made, even ifthere are no men here to dress for. "

"Aunt Lillian, you must not say such things. I do not think that I everdressed to please men. "

"Tut, tut; my dear, we all do. I did, even after married your uncle. Itis natural. We must not go shabby in such times as these, or be out offashion, Did you know that Prince Napoleon was actually coming here for avisit this autumn? We must be ready for him. I am having a fitting atMiss Elder's to-day. "

Virginia was learning patience. She did not reply as she poured out heraunt's coffee. 

"Jinny, " said that lady, "come with me to Elder's, and I will give yousome gowns. If Comyn had been as careful of his own money as of mine, youcould dress decently. "

"I think I do dress decently, Aunt Lillian, " answered the girl. "I do notneed the gowns. Give me the money you intend to pay for them, and I canuse it for a better purpose. "

Mrs. Colfax arranged her lace pettishly. 

"I am sick and tired of this superiority, Jinny. " And in the same breath. "What would you do with it?"

Virginia lowered her voice. "Hodges goes through the lines to-morrownight. I should send it to Clarence. " "But you have no idea whereClarence is. "

"Hodges can find him. "

"Pshaw!" exclaimed her aunt, "I would not trust him. How do you know thathe will get through the Dutch pickets to Price's army? Wasn't Southercaptured last week, and that rash letter of Puss Russell's to JackBrinsmade published in the Democrat?" She laughed at the recollection, and Virginia was fain to laugh too. "Puss hasn't been around much since. I hope that will cure her of saying what she thinks of people. "

"It won't, " said Virginia. 

"I'll save my money until Price drives the Yankees from the state, andClarence marches into the city at the head of a regiment, " Mrs. Colfaxwent on, "It won't be long now. "

Virginia's eyes flashed. 

"Oh, you can't have read the papers. And don't you remember the letterMaude had from George? They need the bare necessities of life, AuntLillian. And half of Price's men have no arms at all. "

"Jackson, " said Mrs. Colfax, "bring me a newspaper. Is there any newsto-day?"

"No, " answered Virginia, quickly. "All we know is that Lyon has leftSpringfield to meet our troops, and that a great battle is coming, Perhaps--perhaps it is being fought to-day. "

Mrs. Colfax burst into tears, "Oh, Jinny, " she cried, "how can you be socruel!"

That very evening a man, tall and lean, but with the shrewd and kindlyeye of a scout, came into the sitting-room with the Colonel and handed aletter to Mrs. Colfax. In the hall he slipped into Virginia's handanother, in a "Jefferson Davis" envelope, and she thrust it in her gown--the girl was on fire as he whispered in her ear that he had seenClarence, and that he was well. In two days an answer might be left atMr. Russell's house. But she must be careful what she wrote, as theYankee scouts were active. 

Clarence, indeed, had proven himself a man. Glory and uniform became himwell, but danger and deprivation better. The words he had written, careless and frank and boyish, made Virginia's heart leap with pride. Mrs. Colfax's letter began with the adventure below the Arsenal, when thefrail skiff had sunk near the island, He told how he had heard thecaptain of his escort sing out to him in the darkness, and how he hadfloated down the current instead, until, chilled and weary, he hadcontrived to seize the branches of a huge tree floating by. And how by amiracle the moon had risen. When the great Memphis packet bore down uponhim, he had, been seen from her guards, and rescued and made much of; andset ashore at the next landing, for fear her captain would get intotrouble. In the morning he had walked into the country, first providinghimself with butternuts and rawhide boots and a bowie-knife. Virginiawould never have recognized her dashing captain of dragoons in thisguise. 

The letter was long for Clarence, and written under great difficultiesfrom date to date. For nearly a month he had tramped over mountains andacross river bottoms, waiting for news of an organized force ofresistance in Missouri. Begging his way from cabin to cabin, and livingon greasy bacon and corn pone, at length he crossed the swift Gasconade(so named by the French settlers because of its brawling ways) where thebridge of the Pacific railroad had been blown up by the Governor'sorders. Then he learned that the untiring Lyon had steamed up theMissouri and had taken possession of Jefferson City without a blow, andthat the ragged rebel force had fought and lost at Booneville. Footsore, but undaunted, he pushed on to join the army, which he heard wasretreating southward along the western tier of counties of the state. 

On the banks of the Osage he fell in with two other young amen in as bada plight as himself. They travelled together, until one day some roughfarmers with shotguns leaped out of a bunch of willows on the borders ofa creek and arrested all three for Union spies. And they laughed when Mr. Clarence tried to explain that he had not long since been the dappercaptain of the State Dragoons. 

His Excellency, the Governor of Missouri (so acknowledged by all goodSoutherners), likewise laughed when Mr. Colfax and the two others werebrought before him. His Excellency sat in a cabin surrounded by a campwhich had caused the dogs of war to howl for very shame. 

"Colfax!" cried the Governor. "A Colfax of St. Louis in butternuts andrawhide boots?"

"Give me a razor, " demanded Clarence, with indignation, "a razor and asuit of clothes, and I will prove it. " The Governor laughed once more. 

"A razor, young man! A suit of clothes You know not what you ask. "

"Are there any gentlemen from St. Louis here?" George Catherwood wasbrought in, --or rather what had once been George. Now he was a bigfrontiersman with a huge blond beard, and a bowie, knife stuck into histrousers in place of a sword. He recognized his young captain of dragoonsthe Governor apologized, and Clarence slept that night in the cabin. Thenext day he was given a horse, and a bright new rifle which theGovernor's soldiers had taken from the Dutch at Cole Camp on the waysouth, And presently they made a junction with three thousand more whowere their images. This was Price's army, but Price had gone ahead intoKansas to beg the great McCulloch and his Confederates to come to theiraid and save the state. 

 "Dear mother, I wish that you and Jinny and Uncle Comyn could have seen this country rabble. How you would have laughed, and cried, because we are just like them. In the combined army two thousand have only bowie-knives or clubs. Some have long rifles of Daniel Boone's time, not fired for thirty years. And the impedimenta are a sight. Open wagons and conestogas and carryalls and buggies, and even barouches, weighted down with frying-pans and chairs and feather beds. But we've got spirit, and we can whip Lyon's Dutchmen and Yankees just as we are. Spirit is what counts, and the Yankees haven't got it, I was made to-day a Captain of Cavalry under Colonel Rives. I ride a great, raw-boned horse like an elephant. He jolts me until I am sore, --not quite as easy as my thoroughbred, Jefferson. Tell Jinny to care for him, and have him ready when we march into St. Louis. "

 "COWSKIN PRAIRIE, 9th July. 

 "We have whipped Sigel on the prairie by Coon Creek and killed--we don't know how many. Tell Maude that George distinguished himself in the fight. We cavalry did not get a chance. 

 "We have at last met McCulloch and his real soldiers. We cheered until we cried when we saw their ranks of gray, with the gold buttons and the gold braid and the gold stars. General McCulloch has taken me on his staff, and promised me a uniform. But how to clothe and feed and arm our men! We have only a few poor cattle, and no money. But our men don't complain. We shall whip the Yankees before we starve. "

For many days Mrs. Colfax did not cease to bewail the hardship which herdear boy was forced to endure. He, who was used to linen sheets and eiderdown, was without rough blanket or shelter; who was used to the besttable in the state, was reduced to husks. 

"But, Aunt Lillian, " cried Virginia, "he is fighting for the South. If hewere fed and clothed like the Yankees, we should not be half so proud ofhim. "

Why set down for colder gaze the burning words that Clarence wrote toVirginia. How she pored over that letter, and folded it so that even thecandle-droppings would not be creased and fall away! He was happy, thoughwretched because he could not see her. It was the life he had longed for. At last (and most pathetic!) he was proving his usefulness in this world. He was no longer the mere idler whom she had chidden. 

 "Jinny, do you remember saying so many years ago that our ruin would come of our not being able to work? How I wish you could see us felling trees to make bullet-moulds, and forging slugs for canister, and making cartridges at night with our bayonets as candlesticks. Jinny dear, I know that you will keep up your courage. I can see you sewing for us, I can hear you praying for us. "

It was, in truth, how Virginia learned to sew. She had always detestedit. Her fingers were pricked and sore weeks after she began. Sad torelate, her bandages, shirts, and havelocks never reached the front, --those havelocks, to withstand the heat of the tropic sun, which were madein thousands by devoted Union women that first summer of the war, to beridiculed as nightcaps by the soldiers. 

"Why should not our soldiers have them, too?" said Virginia to theRussell girls. They were never so happy as when sewing on them againstthe arrival of the Army of Liberation, which never came. 

The long, long days of heat dragged slowly, with little to cheer thosefamilies separated from their dear ones by a great army. Clarence mightdie, and a month--perhaps a year--pass without news, unless he werebrought a prisoner to St. Louis. How Virginia envied Maude because theUnion lists of dead and wounded would give her tidings of her brotherTom, at least! How she coveted the many Union families, whose sons andbrothers were at the front, this privilege!

We were speaking of the French Revolution, when, as Balzac remarked, tobe a spy was to be a patriot. Heads are not so cheap in our Anglo-Saxoncountries; passions not so fierce and uncontrollable. Compare, with aprominent historian, our Boston Massacre and St. Bartholomew. 

They are both massacres. Compare Camp Jackson, or Baltimore, where a fewpeople were shot, with some Paris street scenes after the Bastille. Feelings in each instance never ran higher. Our own provost marshal washissed in the street, and called "Robespierre, " and yet he did not fearthe assassin's knife. Our own Southern aristocrats were hemmed in in aUnion city (their own city). No women were thrown into prison, it istrue. Yet one was not permitted to shout for Jeff Davis on the streetcorner before the provost's guard. Once in a while a detachment of theHome Guards, commanded by a lieutenant; would march swiftly into a streetand stop before a house, whose occupants would run to the rear, only toencounter another detachment in the alley. 

One day, in great excitement, Eugenie Renault rang the bell of the Carvelhouse, and ran past the astounded Jackson up the stairs to Virginia'sroom, the door of which she burst open. 

"Oh, Jinny!" she cried, "Puss Russell's house is surrounded by Yankees, and Puss and Emily and all the family are prisoners!"

"Prisoners! What for?" said Virginia, dropping in her excitement her lastyear's bonnet, which she was trimming with red, white, and red. 

"Because, " said Eugenie, sputtering with indignation "because they wavedat some of our poor fellows who were being taken to the slave pen. Theywere being marched past Mr. Russell's house under guard--Puss had asmall--"

"Confederate flag, " put in Virginia, smiling in spite of herself. 

"And she waved it between the shutters, " Eugenie continued. And some onetold, the provost marshal. He has had the house surrounded, and thefamily have to stay there. "

"But if the food gives out?"

"Then, " said Miss Renault, in a voice of awe, "then each one of thefamily is to have just a common army ration. They are to be treated asprisoners. "

"Oh, those Yankees are detestable!" exclaimed Virginia. "But they shallpay for it. As soon as our army is organized and equipped, they shall payfor it ten times over. " She tried on the bonnet, conspicuous with its redand white ribbons, before the glass. Then she ran to the closet and drewforth the white gown with its red trimmings. "Wait for me, Genie, " shesaid, "and we'll go down to Puss's house together. It may cheer her tosee us. "

"But not in that dress, " said Eugenie, aghast. "They will arrest you. ""Oh, how I wish they would!" cried Virginia. And her eyes flashed so thatEugenie was frightened. "How I wish they would!"

Miss Renault regarded her friend with something of adoration from beneathher black lashes. It was about five in the afternoon when they startedout together under Virginia's white parasol, Eugenie's slimmer courageupheld by her friend's bearing. We must remember that Virginia was young, and that her feelings were akin to those our great-grandmothersexperienced when the British held New York. It was as if she had beenborn to wear the red and white of the South. Elderly gentlemen ofNorthern persuasion paused in their homeward walk to smile in admiration, --some sadly, as Mr. Brinsmade. Young gentlemen found an excuse toretrace their steps a block or two. But Virginia walked on air, and sawnothing. She was between fierce anger and exaltation. She did not deignto drop her eyes as low as the citizen sergeant and guard in front ofPuss Russell's house (these men were only human, after all); she did notso much as glance at the curious people standing on the corner, who couldnot resist a murmur of delight. The citizen sergeant only smiled, andmade no move to arrest the young lady in red and white. Nor did Pussfling open the blinds and wave at her. 

"I suppose its because Mr. Russell won't let her, " said Virginia, disconsolately, "Genie, let's go to headquarters, and show this YankeeGeneral Fremont that we are not afraid of him. "

Eugenie's breath was taken away by the very boldness of thisproposition. . She looked up timidly into Virginia's face, andhero-worship got the better of prudence. 

The house which General Fremont appropriated for his use when he cameback from Europe to assume command in the West was not a modest one. Itstill stands, a large mansion of brick with a stone front, very tall andvery wide, with an elaborate cornice and plate-glass windows, both talland broad, and a high basement. Two stately stone porches capped byelaborate iron railings adorn it in front and on the side. The chimneysare generous and proportional. In short, the house is of that type builtby many wealthy gentlemen in the middle of the century, which has beststood the test of time, --the only type which, if repeated to-day, wouldnot clash with the architectural education which we are receiving. Aspacious yard well above the pavement surrounds it, sustained by a wallof dressed stones, capped by an iron fence. The whole expressed wealth, security, solidity, conservatism. Alas, that the coal deposits under theblack mud of our Western states should, at length, have driven the ownersof these houses out of them! They are now blackened, almost buried insoot; empty, or half-tenanted by boarders, Descendants of the oldfamilies pass them on their way to business or to the theatre with asigh. The sons of those who owned them have built westward, and west-wardagain, until now they are six miles from the river. 

On that summer evening forty years ago, when Virginia and Eugenie came insight of the house, a scene of great animation was before them. Talk wasrife over the commanding general's pomp and circumstance. He had justreturned from Europe, where pomp and circumstance and the military werewedded. Foreign officers should come to America to teach our army dressand manners. A dashing Hungarian commanded the general's body-guard, which honorable corps was even then drawn up in the street before thehouse, surrounded at a respectable distance by a crowd that feared tojest. They felt like it save when they caught the stern military eye ofthe Hungarian captain. Virginia gazed at the glittering uniforms, resplendent in the sun, and at the sleek and well-fed horses, andscalding tears came as she thought of the half-starved rabble of Southernpatriots on the burning prairies. Just then a sharp command escaped inbroken English from the Hungarian. The people in the yard of the mansionparted, and the General himself walked proudly out of the gate to thecurb, where his charger was pawing the gutter. As he put foot to thestirrup, the eye of the great man (once candidate, and again to be, forPresident) caught the glint of red and white on the corner. For aninstant he stood transfixed to the spot, with one leg in the air. Then hetook it down again and spoke to a young officer of his staff, who smiledand began to walk toward them. Little Eugenie's knees trembled. Sheseized Virginia's arm, and whispered in agony. 

"Oh, Jinny, you are to be arrested, after all. Oh, I wish you hadn't beenso bold!"

"Hush, " said Virginia, as she prepared to slay the young officer with alook. She felt like flying at his throat, and choking him for theinsolence of that smile. How dare he march undaunted to within six pacesof those eyes? The crowd drew back, But did Miss Carvel retreat? Not astep. "Oh, I hope he will arrest me, " she said passionately, to Eugenie. "He will start a conflagration beyond the power of any Yankee to quell. "

But hush! he was speaking. "You are my prisoners"? No, those were not thewords, surely. The lieutenant had taken off his cap. He bowed very lowand said:

"Ladies, the General's compliments, and he begs that this much of thesidewalk may be kept clear for a few moments. "

What was left for them, after that, save a retreat? But he was notprecipitate. Miss Virginia crossed the street with a dignity and bearingwhich drew even the eyes of the body-guard to one side. And there shestood haughtily until the guard and the General had thundered away. Acrowd of black-coated civilians, and quartermasters and other officers inuniform, poured out of the basement of the house into the yards. Onecivilian, a youngish man a little inclined to stoutness, stopped at thegate, stared, then thrust some papers in his pocket and hurried down theside street. Three blocks thence he appeared abreast of Miss Carvel. Moreremarkable still, he lifted his hat clear of his head. Virginia drewback. Mr. Hopper, with his newly acquired equanimity and poise, startledher. 

"May I have the pleasure, " said that gentleman, "of accompanying youhome?"

Eugenie giggled, Virginia was more annoyed than she showed. 

"You must not come out of your way, " she said. Then she added. "I am sureyou must go back to the store. It is only six o'clock. "

Had Virginia but known, this occasional tartness in her speech gaveEliphalet an infinite delight, even while it hurt him. His was a naturewhich liked to gloat over a goal on the horizon He cared not a whit forsweet girls; they cloyed. But a real lady was something to attain. He hadrevised his vocabulary for just such an occasion, and thrown out some ofthe vernacular. 

"Business is not so pressing nowadays, Miss Carvel, " he answered, with ashade of meaning. 

"Then existence must be rather heavy for you, " she said. She made noattempt to introduce him to Eugenie. "If we should have any morevictories like Bull Run, prosperity will come back with a rush, " said theson of Massachusetts. "Southern Confederacy, with Missouri one of itsstars an industrial development of the South--fortunes in cotton"

Virginia turned quickly, "Oh, how dare you?" she cried. "How dare youspeak flippantly of such things?" His suavity was far from overthrown. 

"Flippantly Miss Carvel?" said he. "I assure you that I want to see theSouth win. " What he did not know was that words seldom convince women. But he added something which reduced her incredulity for the time. "Doyou cal'late, " said he, --that I could work for your father, and wish ruinto his country?"

"But you are a Yankee born, " she exclaimed. 

"There be a few sane Yankees, " replied Mr. Hopper, dryly. A remark whichmade Eugenie laugh outright, and Virginia could not refrain from a smile. 

But much against her will he walked home with her. She was indignant bythe time she reached Locust Street. He had never dared do such a thingbefore, What had got into the man? Was it because he had become amanager, and governed the business during her father's frequent absences?No matter what Mr. Hopper's politics, he would always be to her alow-born Yankee, a person wholly unworthy of notice. 

At the corner of Olive Street, a young man walking with long stridesalmost bumped into them. He paused looked back, and bowed as if uncertainof an acknowledgment. Virginia barely returned his bow. He had been veryclose to her, and she had had time to notice that his coat wasthreadbare. When she looked again, he had covered half the block. Whyshould she care if Stephen Brice had seen her in company with Mr, Hopper?Eliphalet, too, had seen Stephen, and this had added zest to hisenjoyment. It was part of the fruits of his reward. He wished in thatshort walk that he might meet Mr. Cluyme and Belle, and every man andwoman and child in the city whom he knew. From time to time he glanced atthe severe profile of the aristocrat beside him (he had to look up a bit, likewise), and that look set him down among the beasts of prey. For shewas his rightful prey, and he meant not to lose one tittle of enjoymentin the progress of the game. Many and many a night in the bare littleback room at Miss Crane's, Eliphalet had gloated over the very eventwhich was now come to pass. Not a step of the way but what he had livedthrough before. 

The future is laid open to such men as he. Since he had first seen theblack cloud of war rolling up from the South, a hundred times had herehearsed the scene with Colonel Carvel which had actually taken place aweek before. A hundred times had he prepared his speech and manner forthis first appearance in public with Virginia after he had forced theright to walk in her company. The words he had prepared--commonplace, tobe sure, but carefully chosen--flowed from his lips in a continual nasalstream. The girl answered absently, her feminine instinct groping after areason for it all. She brightened when she saw her father at the doorsand, saying good by to Eugenie, tripped up the steps, bowing to Eliphaletcoldly. 

"Why, bless us, Jinny, " said the Colonel, "you haven't been parading thetown in that costume! You'll have us in Lynch's slave pen by to-morrownight. My land!" laughed he, patting her under the chin, "there's nodoubt about your sentiments, anyhow. "

"I've been over to Puss Russell's house, " said she, breathless. "They'veclosed it up, you know--" (He nodded. ) "And then we went--Eugenie and I, to headquarters, just to see what the Yankees would do. "

The Colonel's smile faded. He looked grave. "You must take care, honey, "he said, lowering his voice. "They suspect me now of communicating withthe Governor and McCulloch. Jinny, it's all very well to be brave, and tostand by your colors. But this sort of thing, " said he, stroking thegown, "this sort of thing doesn't help the South, my dear, and only setsspies upon us. Ned tells me that there was a man in plain clothesstanding in the alley last night for three hours. "

"Pa, " cried the girl, "I'm so sorry. " Suddenly searching his face with aswift instinct, she perceived that these months had made it yellow andlined. "Pa, dear, you must come to Glencoe to-morrow and rest You mustnot go off on any more trips. "

The Colonel shook his head sadly. 

"It isn't the trips, Jinny There are duties, my dear, pleasant duties--Jinny--"

"Yes?"

The Colonel's eye had suddenly fallen on Mr, Hopper, who was stillstanding at the bottom of the steps. He checked himself abruptly asEliphalet pulled off his hat, "Howdy, Colonel?" he said. 

Virginia was motionless, with her back to the intruder, She was frozen bya presentiment. As she saw her father start down the steps, she yearnedto throw herself in front of him--to warn him of something; she knew notwhat. Then she heard the Colonel's voice, courteous and kindly as ever. And yet it broke a little as he greeted his visitor. 

"Won't--won't you come in, Mr. Hopper?"

Virginia started

"I don't know but what I will, thank you, Colonel, " he answered; easily. "I took the liberty of walking home with your daughter. "

Virginia fairly flew into the house and up the stairs. Gaining her room, she shut the door and turned the key, as though he might pursue herthere. The man's face had all at once become a terror. She threw herselfon the lounge and buried her face in her hands, and she saw it stillleering at her with a new confidence. Presently she grew calmer; rising, she put on the plainest of her scanty wardrobe, and went down the stairs, all in a strange trepidation new to her. She had never been in fear of aman before. She hearkened over the banisters for his voice, heard it, andsummoned all her courage. How cowardly she had been to leave her fatheralone with him. 

Eliphalet stayed to tea. It mattered little to him that Mrs. Colfaxignored him as completely as if his chair had been vacant He glanced atthat lady once, and smiled, for he was tasting the sweets of victory. Itwas Virginia who entertained him, and even the Colonel never guessed whatit cost her. Eliphalet himself marvelled at her change of manner, andgloated over that likewise. Not a turn or a quiver of the victim's painis missed by your beast of prey. The Colonel was gravely polite, butpreoccupied. Had he wished it, he could not have been rude to a guest. Heoffered Mr. Hopper a cigar with the same air that he would have given itto a governor. 

"Thank'ee, Colonel, I don't smoke, " he said, waving the bog away. 

Mrs. Colfax flung herself out of the room. 

It was ten o'clock when Eliphalet reached Miss Crane's, and picked hisway up the front steps where the boarders were gathered. 

"The war doesn't seem to make any difference in your business, Mr. Hopper, " his landlady remarked, "where have you been so late?"

"I happened round at Colonel Carvel's this afternoon, and stayed for teawith 'em, " he answered, striving to speak casually. 

Miss Crane lingered in Mrs. Abner Reed's room later than usual thatnight. 

CHAPTER III

THE SCOURGE OF WAR

"Virginia, " said Mrs. Colfax, the next morning on coming downstairs, "Iam going back to Bellegarde today. I really cannot put up with such aperson as Comyn had here to tea last night. "

"Very well, Aunt Lillian. At what time shall I order the carriage?"

The lady was surprised. It is safe to say that she had never accuratelygauged the force which Virginia's respect for her elders, and affectionfor her aunt through Clarence, held in check. Only a moment since Mrs. Colfax had beheld her niece. Now there had arisen in front of her a tallperson of authority, before whom she deferred instinctively. It was notwhat Virginia said, for she would not stoop to tirade. Mrs. Colfax sankinto a chair, seeing only the blurred lines of a newspaper the girl hadthrust into her hand. 

"What--what is it?" she gasped. "I cannot read. "

"There has been a battle at Wilson's Creek, " said Virginia, in anemotionless voice. "General Lyon is killed, for which I suppose we shouldbe thankful. More than seven hundred of the wounded are on their wayhere. They are bringing them one hundred and twenty miles, fromSpringfield to Rollo, in rough army wagons, with scarcely anything to eator drink. "

"And--Clarence?"

"His name is not there. "

"Thank God!" exclaimed Mrs. Colfax. "Are the Yankees beaten?"

"Yes, " said Virginia, coldly. "At what time shall I order the carriage totake you to Bellegarde?"

Mrs. Colfax leaned forward and caught the hem of her niece's gown. "Oh, let me stay, " she cried, "let me stay. Clarence may be with them. "

Virginia looked down at her without pity. 

"As you please, Aunt Lillian, " she answered. "You know that you mayalways stay here. I only beg of you one thing, that when you haveanything to complain of, you will bring it to me, and not mention itbefore Pa. He has enough to worry him. "

"Oh, Jinny, " sobbed the lady, in tears again, "how can you be so cruel atsuch a time, when my nerves are all in pieces?"

But she did not lift her voice at dinner, which was very poor indeed forColonel Carvel's house. All day long Virginia, assisted by Uncle Ben andAunt Easter, toiled in the stifling kitchen, preparing dainties which shehad long denied herself. At evening she went to the station at FourteenthStreet with her father, and stood amongst the people, pressed back by thesoldiers, until the trains came in. Alas, the heavy basket which theColonel carried on his arm was brought home again. The first hundred toarrive, ten hours in a hot car without food or water, were laid groaningon the bottom of great furniture vans, and carted to the new House ofRefuge Hospital, two miles to the south of the city. 

The next day many good women went there, Rebel and Union alike, to havetheir hearts wrung. The new and cheap building standing in the hot sunreeked with white wash and paint. The miserable men lay on the hardfloor, still in the matted clothes they had worn in battle. Those werethe first days of the war, when the wages of our passions first came toappal us. Many of the wounds had not been tended since they were dressedon the field weeks before. 

Mrs. Colfax went too, with the Colonel and her niece, although shedeclared repeatedly that she could not go through with such an ordeal. She spoke the truth, for Mr. Carvel had to assist her to thewaiting-room. Then he went back to the improvised wards to find Virginiabusy over a gaunt Arkansan of Price's army, whose pitiful, fever-glazedeyes were following her every motion. His frontiersman's clothes, stainedwith blackened blood, hung limp over his wasted body. At Virginia'sbidding the Colonel ran downstairs for a bucket of fresh water, and shewashed the caked dust from his face and hands. It was Mr. Brinsmade whogot the surgeon to dress the man's wound, and to prescribe some of thebroth from Virginia's basket. For the first time since the war begansomething of happiness entered her breast. 

It was Mr. Brinsmade who was everywhere that day, answering the questionsof distracted mothers and fathers and sisters who thronged the place;consulting with the surgeons; helping the few who knew how to work inplacing mattresses under the worst cases; or again he might have beenseen seated on the bare floor with a pad on his knee, taking down thenames of dear ones in distant states, --that he might spend his nightwriting to them. 

They put a mattress under the Arkansan. Virginia did not leave him untilhe had fallen asleep, and a smile of peace was come upon his sunken face. Dismayed at the fearful sights about her, awed by the groans that rose onevery side, she was choosing her way swiftly down the room to join herfather and aunt in the carriage below. 

The panic of flight had seized her. She felt that another little while inthis heated, horrible place would drive her mad. She was almost at thedoor when she came suddenly upon a sight that made her pause. 

An elderly lady in widow's black was kneeling beside a man groaning inmortal agony, fanning away the flies already gathering about his face. Hewore the uniform of a Union sergeant, --dusty and splotched and torn. Asmall Testament was clasped convulsively in the fingers of his rightband. The left sleeve was empty. Virginia lingered, whelmed in pity, thrilled by a wonderful womanliness of her who knelt there. Her face thegirl had not even seen, for it was bent over the man. The sweetness ofher voice held Virginia as in a spell, and the sergeant stopped groaningthat he might listen:

"You have a wife?"

"Yes, ma'am. "

"And a child?"

The answer came so painfully. 

"A boy, ma'am--born the week--before I came--away. "

"I shall write to your wife, " said the lady, so gently that Virginiacould scarce hear, "and tell her that you are cared for. Where does shelive?"

He gave the address faintly--some little town in Minnesota. Then headded, "God bless you, lady. "

Just then the chief surgeon came and stood over them. The lady turned herface up to him, and tears sparkled in her eyes. Virginia felt them wet inher own. Her worship was not given to many. Nobility, character, efficiency, -all were written on that face. Nobility spoke in the largefeatures, in the generous mouth, in the calm, gray eyes. Virginia hadseen her often before, but not until now was the woman revealed to her. 

"Doctor, could this man's life be saved if I took him to my home?"

The surgeon got down beside her and took the man's pulse. The eyesclosed. For a while the doctor knelt there, shaking his head. "He hasfainted, " he said. 

"Do you think he can be saved?" asked the lady again. The surgeonsmiled, --such a smile as a good man gives after eighteen hours ofamputating, of bandaging, of advising, --work which requires a firm hand, a clear eye and brain, and a good heart. 

"My dear Mrs. Brice, " he said, "I shall be glad to get you permission totake him, but we must first make him worth the taking. Another hour wouldhave been too late. " He glanced hurriedly about the busy room, and thenadded, "We must have one more to help us. "

Just then some one touched Virginia's arm. It was her father. 

"I am afraid we must go, dear, " he said, "your aunt is gettingimpatient. "

"Won't you please go without me, Pa?" she asked. "Perhaps I can be ofsome use. "

The Colonel cast a wondering glance at the limp uniform, and went away. The surgeon, who knew the Carvel family, gave Virginia a look ofastonishment. It was Mrs. Brice's searching gaze that brought the colorto the girl's, face. 

"Thank you, my dear, " she said simply. 

As soon as he could get his sister-in-law off to Locust Street in thecarriage, Colonel Carvel came back. For two reeking hours he stoodagainst the newly plastered wall. Even he was surprised at the fortitudeand skill Virginia showed from the very first, when she had deftly cutaway the stiffened blue cloth, and helped to take off the rough bandages. At length the fearful operation was finished, and the weary surgeon, gathering up his box, expressed with all the energy left to him, histhanks to the two ladies. 

Virginia stood up, faint and dizzy. The work of her hands had sustainedher while it lasted, but now the ordeal was come. She went down thestairs on her father's arm, and out into the air. All at once she knewthat Mrs. Brice was beside her, and had taken her by the hand. 

"My dear?" she was saying, "God will reward you for this act. You havetaught many of us to-day a lesson we should have learned in our Bibles. "

Virginia trembled with many emotions, but she answered nothing. The merepresence of this woman had a strange effect upon the girl, --she wasfilled with a longing unutterable. It was not because Margaret Brice wasthe mother of him whose life had been so strangely blended with hers--whom she saw in her dreams. And yet now some of Stephen's traits seemedto come to her understanding, as by a revelation. Virginia had laboredthrough the heat of the day by Margaret Brice's side doing His work, which levels all feuds and makes all women sisters. One brief second hadbeen needful for the spell. 

The Colonel bowed with that courtesy and respect which distinguished him, and Mrs. Brice left them to go back into the room of torment, and watchby the sergeant's pallet. Virginia's eyes followed her up the stairs, andthen she and her father walked slowly to the carriage. With her foot onthe step Virginia paused. 

"Pa, " she said, "do you think it would be possible to get them to let ustake that Arkansan into our house?"

"Why, honey, I'll ask Brinsmade if you like, " said the Colonel. "Here hecomes now, and Anne. "

It was Virginia who put the question to him. 

"My dear, " replied that gentleman, patting her, "I would do anything inthe world for you. I'll see General Fremont this very afternoon. Virginia, " he added, soberly, "it is such acts as yours to-day that giveus courage to live in these times. "

Anne kissed her friend. 

"Oh, Jinny, I saw what you were doing for one of our men. What am Isaying?" she cried. "They are your men, too. This horrible war cannotlast. It cannot last. It was well that Virginia did not see the smile onthe face of the commanding general when Mr. Brinsmade at length got tohim with her request. This was before the days when the wounded arrivedby the thousands, when the zeal of the Southern ladies threatened tothrow out of gear the workings of a great system. But the General, hadhad his eye on Mr. Carvel from the first. Therefore he smiled. 

"Colonel Carvel, " said Mr. Brinsmade, with dignity, "is a gentleman. Whenhe gives his word, it is sacred, sir. "

"Even to an enemy, " the General put in, "By George, Brinsmade, unless Iknew you, I should think that you were half rebel yourself. Well, well, he may have his Arkansan. "

Mr. Brinsmade, when he conveyed the news to the Carvel house, did not saythat he had wasted a precious afternoon in the attempt to interview hisExcellency, the Commander in-chief. It was like obtaining an audiencewith the Sultan or the Czar. Citizens who had been prominent in affairsfor twenty years, philanthropists and patriotic-spirited men like Mr. Brinsmade, the mayor, and all the ex-mayors mopped their brows in one ofthe general's anterooms of the big mansion, and wrangled with beardlessyouths in bright uniforms who were part of the chain. The General mighthave been a Richelieu, a Marlborough. His European notions of uniformedinaccessibility he carried out to the letter. He was a royal personage, seldom seen, who went abroad in the midst of a glittering guard. It didnot seem to weigh with his Excellency that these simple and democraticgentlemen would not put up with this sort of thing. That they who hadsaved the city to the Union were more or less in communication with asimple and democratic President; that in all their lives they had neverbeen in the habit of sitting idly for two hours to mop their brows. 

On the other hand, once you got beyond the gold lace and the etiquette, you discovered a good man and a patriot. It was far from being theGeneral's fault that Mr. Hopper and others made money in mules andworthless army blankets. Such things always have been, and always will beunavoidable when this great country of ours rises from the deep sleep ofsecurity into which her sons have lulled her, to demand her sword. Weshall never be able to realize that the maintenance of a standing army ofcomfortable size will save millions in the end. So much for Democracywhen it becomes a catchword. 

The General was a good man, had he done nothing else than encourage theWestern Sanitary Commission, that glorious army of drilled men and womenwho gave up all to relieve the suffering which the war was causing. Wouldthat a novel--a great novel--might be written setting forth with truthits doings. The hero of it could be Calvin Brinsmade, and a nobler herothan he was never under a man's hand. For the glory of generals fadesbeside his glory. 

It was Mr. Brinsmade's carriage that brought Mrs. Brice home from hertrying day in the hospital. Stephen, just returned from drill at Verandahhall, met her at the door. She would not listen to his entreaties torest, but in the evening, as usual, took her sewing to the porch behindthe house, where there was a little breeze. 

"Such a singular thing happened to-day, Stephen, " she said. "It was whilewe were trying to save the life of a poor sergeant who had lost his arm. I hope we shall be allowed to have him here. He is suffering horribly. "

"What happened, mother?" he asked. 

"It was soon after I had come upon this poor fellow, " she said. "I sawthe--the flies around him. And as I got down beside him to fan them awayI had such a queer sensation. I knew that some one was standing behindme, looking at me. Then Dr. Allerdyce came, and I asked him about theman, and he said there was a chance of saving him if we could only gethelp. Then some one spoke up, --such a sweet voice. It was that MissCarvel my dear, with whom you had such a strange experience when youbought Hester, and to whose party you once went. Do you remember thatthey offered us their house in Glencoe when the Judge was so ill?"

"Yes, " said Stephen. 

"She is a wonderful creature, " his mother continued. "Such personality, such life! And wasn't it a remarkable offer for a Southern woman to make?They feel so bitterly, and--and I do not blame them. " The good lady putdown on her lap the night-shirt she was making. "I saw how it happened. The girl was carried away by her pity. And, my dear, her capabilityastonished me. One might have thought that she had always been a nurse. The experience was a dreadful one for me--what must it have been for her. After the operation was over, I followed her downstairs to where she wasstanding with her father in front of the building, waiting for theircarriage. I felt that I must say something to her, for in all my life Ihave never seen a nobler thing done. When I saw her there, I scarcelyknew what to say. Words seemed so inadequate. It was then three o'clock, and she had been working steadily in that place since morning. I am sureshe could not have borne it much longer. Sheer courage carried herthrough it, I know, for her hand trembled so when I took it, and she wasvery pale. She usually has color, I believe. Her father, the Colonel, waswith her, and he bowed to me with such politeness. He had stood againstthe wall all the while we had worked, and he brought a mattress for us. Ihave heard that his house is watched, and that they have him undersuspicion for communicating with the Confederate leaders. " Mrs. Bricesighed. He seems such a fine character. I hope they will not get into anytrouble. "

"I hope not, mother, " said Stephen. 

It was two mornings later that Judge Whipple and Stephen drove to theIron Mountain depot, where they found a German company of Home Guardsdrawn up. On the long wooden platform under the sheds Stephen caughtsight of Herr Korner and Herr Hauptmann amid a group of their countrymen. Little Korner came forward to clasp his hands. The tears ran on hischeeks, and he could not speak for emotion. Judge Whipple, grim andsilent, stood apart. But he uncovered his head with the others when thetrain rolled in. Reverently they entered a car where the pine boxes werepiled one on another, and they bore out the earthly remains of CaptainCarl Richter. 

Far from the land of his birth, among those same oaks on Bloody Hillwhere brave Lyon fell, he had gladly given up his life for the newcountry and the new cause he had made his own. 

That afternoon in the cemetery, as the smoke of the last salute to a herohung in the flickering light and drifted upward through the great trees, as the still air was yet quivering with the notes of the bugle-call whichis the soldiers requiem, a tall figure, gaunt and bent, stepped out frombehind the blue line of the troops. It was that of Judge Whipple. Hecarried in his hand a wreath of white roses--the first of many to be laidon Richter's grave. 

Poor Richter! How sad his life had been! And yet he had not filled itwith sadness. For many a month, and many a year, Stephen could not lookupon his empty place without a pang. He missed the cheery songs and theearnest presence even more than he had thought. Carl Richter, --as hisfather before him, --had lived for others. Both had sacrificed theirbodies for a cause. One of them might be pictured as he trudged withFather Jahn from door to door through the Rhine country, or shoulderingat sixteen a heavy musket in the Landwehr's ranks to drive the tyrantNapoleon from the beloved Fatherland Later, aged before his time, hiswife dead of misery, decrepit and prison-worn in the service of athankless country, his hopes lived again in Carl, the swordsman of Jena. Then came the pitiful Revolution, the sundering of all ties, the elderman left to drag out his few weary days before a shattered altar. In Carla new aspiration had sprung up, a new patriotism stirred. His, too, hadbeen the sacrifice. Happy in death, for he had helped perpetuate thatgreat Union which should be for all time the refuge of the oppressed. 

CHAPTER IV

THE LIST OF SIXTY

One chilling day in November, when an icy rain was falling on the blackmud of the streets, Virginia looked out of the window. Her eye was caughtby two horses which were just skeletons with the skin stretched overthem. One had a bad sore on his flank, and was lame. They were pulling arattle-trap farm wagon with a buckled wheel. On the seat a man, pallidand bent and scantily clad, was holding the reins in his feeble hands, while beside him cowered a child of ten wrapped in a ragged blanket. Inthe body of the wagon, lying on a mattress pressed down in the midst ofbroken, cheap furniture and filthy kitchen ware, lay a gaunt woman in therain. Her eyes were closed, and a hump on the surface of the dirty quiltbeside her showed that a child must be there. From such a picture thegirl fled in tears. But the sight of it, and of others like it, hauntedher for weeks. Through those last dreary days of November, wretchedfamilies, which a year since had been in health and prosperity, came tothe city, beggars, with the wrecks of their homes. The history of thathideous pilgrimage across a state has never been written. Still they cameby the hundred, those families. Some brought little corpses to be buried. The father of one, hale and strong when they started, died of pneumoniain the public lodging-house. The walls of that house could tell manytales to wring the heart. So could Mr. Brinsmade, did he choose to speakof his own charities. He found time, between his labors at the bighospital newly founded, and his correspondence, and his journeys oflove, --between early morning and midnight, --to give some hours a day tothe refugees. 

Throughout December they poured in on the afflicted city, alreadyovertaxed. All the way to Springfield the road was lined with remains ofarticles once dear--a child's doll, a little rocking-chair, a coloredprint that has hung in the best room, a Bible text. 

Anne Brinsmade, driven by Nicodemus, went from house to house to solicitold clothes, and take them to the crowded place of detention. Christmaswas drawing near--a sorry Christmas, in truth. And many of the wandererswere unclothed and unfed. 

More battles had been fought; factions had arisen among Union men. Another general had come to St. Louis to take charge of the Department, and the other with his wondrous body-guard was gone. 

The most serious problem confronting the new general--was how to care forthe refugees. A council of citizens was called at headquarters, and theverdict went forth in the never-to-be-forgotten Orders No. 24. 

"Inasmuch, " said the General, "as the Secession army had driven thesepeople from their homes, Secession sympathizers should be made to supportthem. " He added that the city was unquestionably full of these. 

Indignation was rife the day that order was published. Sixty prominent"disloyalists" were to be chosen and assessed to make up a sum of tenthousand dollars. 

"They may sell my house over my head before I will pay a cent, " cried Mr. Russell. And he meant it. This was the way the others felt. Who were tobe on this mysterious list of "Sixty"? That was the all-absorbingquestion of the town. It was an easy matter to pick the conspicuous ones. Colonel Carvel was sure to be there, and Mr. Catherwood and Mr. Russelland Mr. James, and Mr. Worington the lawyer. Mrs. Addison Colfax livedfor days in a fermented state of excitement which she declared wouldbreak her down; and which, despite her many cares and worries, gave herniece not a little amusement. For Virginia was human, and one morning shewent to her aunt's room to read this editorial from the newspaper:-- "Forthe relief of many palpitating hearts it may be well to state that weunderstand only two ladies are on the ten thousand dollar list. "

"Jinny, " she cried, "how can you be so cruel as to read me that, when youknow that I am in a state of frenzy now? How does that relieve me? Itmakes it an absolute certainty that Madame Jules and I will have to pay. We are the only women of importance in the city. "

That afternoon she made good her much-uttered threat, and drove toBellegarde. Only the Colonel and Virginia and Mammy Easter and Ned wereleft in the big house. Rosetta and Uncle Ben and Jackson had been hiredout, and the horses sold, --all save old Dick, who was running, long-haired, in the fields at Glencoe. 

Christmas eve was a steel-gray day, and the sleet froze as it fell. Sincemorning Colonel Carvel had sat poking the sitting-room fire, or pacingthe floor restlessly. His occupation was gone. He was observed night andday by Federal detectives. Virginia strove to amuse him, to conceal heranxiety as she watched him. Well she knew that but for her he would longsince have fled southward, and often in the bitterness of the night-timeshe blamed herself for not telling him to go. Ten years had seemed topass over him since the war had begun. 

All day long she had been striving to put away from her the memory ofChristmas eves past and gone of her father's early home-coming from thestore, a mysterious smile on his face; of Captain Lige stamping noisilyinto the house, exchanging uproarious jests with Ned and Jackson. TheCaptain had always carried under his arm a shapeless bundle which hewould confide to Ned with a knowing wink. And then the house would belighted from top to bottom, and Mr. Russell and Mr. Catherwood and Mr. Brinsmade came in for a long evening with Mr. Carvel over great bowls ofapple toddy and egg-nog. And Virginia would have her own friends in thebig parlor. That parlor was shut up now, and icy cold. 

Then there was Judge Whipple, the joyous event of whose year was hisChristmas dinner at Colonel Carvel's house. Virginia pictured him thisyear at Mrs. Brice's little table, and wondered whether he would missthem as much as they missed him. War may break friendships, but it cannottake away the sacredness of memories. 

The sombre daylight was drawing to an early close as the two stoodlooking out of the sitting-room window. A man's figure muffled in agreatcoat slanting carefully across the street caught their eyes. Virginia started. It was the same United States deputy marshal she hadseen the day before at Mr. Russell's house. 

"Pa, " she cried, "do you think he is coming here?"

"I reckon so, honey. "

"The brute! Are you going to pay?"

"No, Jinny. "

"Then they will take away the furniture. "

"I reckon they will. "

"Pa, you must promise me to take down the mahogany bed in your room. It--it was mother's. I could not bear to see them take that. Let me put it inthe garret. "

The Colonel was distressed, but he spoke without a tremor. 

"No, Jinny. We must leave this house just as it is. " Then he added, strangely enough for him, "God's will be done. "

The bell rang sharply. And Ned, who was cook and housemaid, came in withhis apron on. 

"Does you want to see folks, Marse Comyn?"

The Colonel rose, and went to the door himself. He was an imposing figureas he stood in the windy vestibule, confronting the deputy. Virginia'sfirst impulse was to shrink under the stairs. Then she came out and stoodbeside her father. 

"Are you Colonel Carvel?"

"I reckon I am. Will you come in?"

The officer took off his cap. He was a young man with a smooth face, anda frank brown eye which paid its tribute to Virginia. He did not appearto relish the duty thrust upon him. He fumbled in his coat and drew fromhis inner pocket a paper. 

"Colonel Carvel, " said he, "by order of Major General Halleck, I serveyou with this notice to pay the sum of three hundred and fifty dollarsfor the benefit of the destitute families which the Rebels have drivenfrom their homes. In default of payment within a reasonable time suchpersonal articles will be seized and sold at public auction as willsatisfy the demand against you. "

The Colonel took the paper. "Very well, sir, " he said. "You may tell theGeneral that the articles may be seized. That I will not, while in myright mind, be forced to support persons who have no claim upon me. "

It was said in the tone in which he might have refused an invitation todinner. The deputy marvelled. He had gone into many houses that week; hadseen indignation, hysterics, frenzy. He had even heard men and womenwhose sons and brothers were in the army of secession proclaim theirloyalty to the Union. But this dignity, and the quiet scorn of the girlwho had stood silent beside them, were new. He bowed, and casting hiseyes to the vestibule, was glad to escape from the house. 

The Colonel shut the door. Then he turned toward Virginia, thoughtfullypulled his goatee, and laughed gently. "Lordy, we haven't got threehundred and fifty dollars to our names, " said he. 

The climate of St. Louis is capricious. That fierce valley of theMissouri, which belches fitful blizzards from December to March, issometimes quiet. Then the hot winds come up from the Gulf, and sleetmelts, and windows are opened. In those days the streets will be fetlockdeep in soft mud. It is neither summer, nor winter, nor spring, noranything. 

It was such a languorous afternoon in January that a furniture van, accompanied by certain nondescript persons known as United States Police, pulled up at the curb in front of Mr. Carvel's house. Eugenie, watchingat the window across the street, ran to tell her father, who came out onhis steps and reviled the van with all the fluency of his Frenchancestors. 

Mammy Easter opened the door, and then stood with her arms akimbo, amplyfilling its place. Her lips protruded, and an expression of defiance hardto describe sat on her honest black face. 

"Is this Colonel Carvel's house?"

"Yassir. I 'low you knows dat jes as well as me. " An embarrassed silence, and then from Mammy, "Whaffor you laffin at?"

"Is the Colonel at home?"

"Now I reckon you knows dat he ain't. Ef he was, you ain't come here'quirin' in dat honey voice. " (Raising her own voice. ) "You tink I dunnowhaffor you come? You done come heah to rifle, an' to loot, an' to steal, an' to seize what ain't your'n. You come heah when young Marse ain't tohome ter rob him. " (Still louder. ) "Ned, whaffor you hidin' yonder? Efyo' ain't man to protect Marse Comyn's prop-ty, jes han' over MarseComyn's gun. "

The marshal and his men had stood, half amused, more than half baffled bythis unexpected resistance. Mammy Easter looked so dangerous that it wasevident she was not to be passed without extreme bodily discomfort. 

"Is your mistress here?"

This question was unfortunate in the extreme. 

"You--you white trash!" cried Mammy, bursting with indignation. "Who isyou to come heah 'quiring fo' her! I ain't agwine--"

"Mammy!"

"Yas'm! Yas, Miss Jinny. " Mammy backed out of the door and clutched ather bandanna. 

"Mammy, what is all this noise about?" The torrent was loosed once more. 

"These heah men, Miss Jinny, was gwine f'r t' carry away all yo' pa'sblongin's. I jes' tol' 'em dey ain't comin' in ovah dis heah body. "

The deputy had his foot on the threshold. He caught sight of the face ofMiss Carvel within, and stopped abruptly. 

"I have a warrant here from the Provost Marshal, ma'am, to seize personalproperty to satisfy a claim against Colonel Carvel. "

Virginia took the order, read it, and handed it back. "I do not see how Iam to prevent you, " she said. The deputy was plainly abashed. 

"I'm sorry, Miss. I--I can't tell you how sorry I am. But it's got to bedone. "

Virginia nodded coldly. And still the man hesitated. "What are youwaiting for?" she said. 

The deputy wiped his muddy feet. He made his men do likewise. Then heentered the chill drawing-room, threw open the blinds and glanced aroundhim. 

"I expect all that we want is right here, " he said. And at the sight ofthe great chandelier, with its cut-glass crystals, he whistled. Then hewalked over to the big English Rothfield piano and lifted the lid. 

The man was a musician. Involuntarily he rested himself on the mahoganystool, and ran his fingers over the keys. They seemed to Virginia, standing motionless in the ball, to give out the very chords of agony. 

The piano, too, had been her mother's. It had once stood in the brickhouse of her grandfather Colfax at Halcyondale. The songs of Beatrice layon the bottom shelf of the what-not near by. No more, of an evening whenthey were alone, would Virginia quietly take them out and play them overto the Colonel, as he sat dreaming in the window with his cigar, --dreaming of a field on the borders of a wood, of a young girl who heldhis hand, and sang them softly to herself as she walked by his side. And, when they reached the house in the October twilight, she had played themfor him on this piano. Often he had told Virginia of those days, andwalked with her over those paths. 

The deputy closed the lid, and sent out to the van for a truck. Virginiastirred. For the first time she heard the words of Mammy Easter. 

"Come along upstairs wid yo' Mammy, honey. Dis ain't no place for us, Ireckon. " Her words were the essence of endearment. And yet, while shepronounced them, she glared unceasingly at the intruders. "Oh, de goodLawd'll burn de wicked!"

The men were removing the carved legs. Virginia went back into the roomand stood before the deputy. 

"Isn't there something else you could take? Some jewellery?" She flushed. "I have a necklace--"

"No, miss. This warrant's on your father. And there ain't nothing quiteso salable as pianos. "

She watched them, dry-eyed, as they carried it away. It seemed like acoffin. Only Mammy Easter guessed at the pain in Virginia's breast, andthat was because there was a pain in her own. They took the rosewoodwhat-not, but Virginia snatched the songs before the men could touchthem, and held them in her arms. They seized the mahogany velvet-bottomedchairs, her uncle's wedding present to her mother; and, last of all, theyruthlessly tore up the Brussels carpet, beginning near the spot whereClarence had spilled ice-cream at one of her children's parties. 

She could not bear to look into the dismantled room when they had gone. It was the embodied wreck of her happiness. Ned closed the blinds oncemore, and she herself turned the key in the lock, and went slowly up thestairs. 

CHAPTER V

THE AUCTION

"Stephen, " said the Judge, in his abrupt way, "there isn't a great dealdoing. Let's go over to the Secesh property sales. "

Stephen looked up in surprise. The seizures and intended sale ofsecession property had stirred up immense bitterness and indignation inthe city. There were Unionists (lukewarm) who denounced the measure asunjust and brutal. The feelings of Southerners, avowed and secret, mayonly be surmised. Rigid ostracism was to be the price of bidding on anygoods displayed, and men who bought in handsome furniture on that daybecause it was cheap have still, after forty years, cause to remember it. 

It was not that Stephen feared ostracism. Anne Brinsmade was almost theonly girl left to him from among his former circle of acquaintances. MissCarvel's conduct is known. The Misses Russell showed him very plainlythat they disapproved of his politics. The hospitable days at that housewere over. Miss Catherwood, when they met on the street, pretended not tosee him, and Eugenie Renault gave him but a timid nod. The loyal familiesto whose houses he now went were mostly Southerners, in sentiment againstforced auctions. 

However, he put on his coat, and sallied forth into the sharp air, theJudge leaning on his arm. They walked for some distance in silence. 

"Stephen, " said he, presently, "I guess I'll do a little bidding. "

Stephen did not reply. But he was astonished. He wondered what Mr. Whipple wanted with fine furniture. And, if he really wished to bid, Stephen knew likewise that no consideration would stop him. 

"You don't approve of this proceeding, sir, I suppose, " said the Judge. 

"Yes, sir, on large grounds. War makes many harsh things necessary. "

"Then, " said the Judge, tartly, "by bidding, we help to support starvingUnion families. You should not be afraid to bid, sir. "

Stephen bit his lip. Sometimes Mr. Whipple made him very angry. 

"I am not afraid to bid, Judge Whipple. " He did not see the smile on theJudge's face. 

"Then you will bid in certain things for me, " said Mr. Whipple. Here hehesitated, and shook free the rest of the sentence with a wrench. "Colonel Carvel always had a lot of stuff I wanted. Now I've got thechance to buy it cheap. "

There was silence again, for the space of a whole block. Finally, Stephenmanaged to say:-- "You'll have to excuse me, sir. I do not care to dothat. "

"What?" cried the Judge, stopping in the middle of a cross-street, sothat a wagon nearly ran over his toes. 

"I was once a guest in Colonel Carvel's house, sir. And--"

"And what?"

Neither the young man nor the old knew all it was costing the other tosay these things. The Judge took a grim pleasure in eating his heart. Andas for Stephen, he often went to his office through Locust Street, whichwas out of his way, in the hope that he might catch a glimpse ofVirginia. He had guessed much of the privations she had gone through. Heknew that the Colonel had hired out most of his slaves, and he hadactually seen the United States Police drive across Eleventh Street withthe piano that she had played on. 

The Judge was laughing quietly, --not a pleasant laugh to hear, --as theycame to Morgan's great warerooms. A crowd blocked the pavement, andhustled and shoved at the doors, --roughs, and soldiers off duty, andladies and gentlemen whom the Judge and Stephen knew, and some of whomthey spoke to. All of these were come out of curiosity, that they mightsee for themselves any who had the temerity to bid on a neighbor'shousehold goods. The long hall, which ran from street to street, waspacked, the people surging backward and forward, and falling roughlyagainst the mahogany pieces; and apologizing, and scolding, and swearingall in a breath. The Judge, holding tightly to Stephen, pushed his wayfiercely to the stand, vowing over and over that the commotion was asecession trick to spoil the furniture and stampede the sale. In truth, it was at the Judge's suggestion that a blue provost's guard was calledin later to protect the seized property. 

How many of those mahogany pieces, so ruthlessly tumbled about before thepublic eye, meant a heartache! Wedding presents of long ago, dear to manya bride with silvered hair, had been torn from the corner where thechildren had played--children who now, alas, were grown and gone to war. Yes, that was the Brussels rug that had lain before the fire, and whichthe little feet had worn in the corner. Those were the chairs the littlehands had harnessed, four in a row, and fallen on its side was thearmchair--the stage coach itself. There were the books, held up to commongaze, that a beloved parent had thumbed with affection. Yes, and here inanother part of the hall were the family horses and the family carriagethat had gone so often back and forth from church with the happy brood ofchildren, now scattered and gone to war. 

As Stephen reached his place beside the Judge, Mr. James's effects werebeing cried. And, if glances could have killed, many a bidder would havedropped dead. The heavy dining-room table which meant so much to thefamily went for a song to a young man recently come from Yankeeland, whose open boast it was--like Eliphalet's secret one--that he would oneday grow rich enough to snap his fingers in the face of the Southernaristocrats. Mr. James was not there. But Mr. Catherwood, his facehaggard and drawn, watched the sideboard he had given his wife on hersilver wedding being sold to a pawnbroker. 

Stephen looked in vain for Colonel Carvel--for Virginia. He did not wantto see them there. He knew by heart the list of things which had beentaken from their house. He understood the feeling which had sent theJudge here to bid them in. And Stephen honored him the more. 

When the auctioneer came to the Carvel list, and the well-known name wasshouted out, the crowd responded with a stir and pressed closer to thestand. And murmurs were plainly heard in more than one direction. 

"Now, gentlemen, and ladies, " said the seller, "this here is a genuineEnglish Rothfield piano once belonging to Colonel Carvel, and thecelebrated Judge Colfax of Kaintucky. " He lingered fondly over the names, that the impression might have time to sink deep. "This here magnificentinstrument's worth at the very least" (another pause) "twelve hundreddollars. What am I bid?"

He struck a base note of the keys, then a treble, and they vibrated inthe heated air of the big hall. Had he hit the little C of the topoctave, the tinkle of that also might have been heard. 

"Gentlemen and ladies, we have to begin somewheres. What am I bid?"

A menacing murmur gave place to the accusing silence. Some there were whogazed at the Rothfield with longing eyes, but who had no intention ofcommitting social suicide. Suddenly a voice, the rasp of which penetratedto St. Charles Street, came out with a bid. The owner was a seedy manwith a straw-colored, drunkard's mustache. He was leaning against thebody of Mrs. Russell's barouche (seized for sale), and those about himshrank away as from smallpox. His hundred-dollar offer was followed by ahiss. What followed next Stephen will always remember. When Judge Whippledrew himself up to his full six feet, that was a warning to those thatknew him. As he doubled the bid, the words came out with the aggressivedistinctness of a man who through a long life has been used toopposition. He with the gnawed yellow mustache pushed himself clear ofthe barouche, his smouldering cigar butt dropping to the floor. But therewere no hisses now. 

And this is how Judge Whipple braved public opinion once more. As hestood there, defiant, many were the conjectures as to what he could wishto do with the piano of his old friend. Those who knew the Judge (andthere were few who did not) pictured to themselves the dingy littleapartment where he lived, and smiled. Whatever his detractors might havesaid of him, no one was ever heard to avow that he had bought or soldanything for gain. 

A tremor ran through the people. Could it have been of admiration for thefine old man who towered there glaring defiance at those about him? "Giveme a strong and consistent enemy, " some great personage has said, "ratherthan a lukewarm friend. " Three score and five years the Judge had lived, and now some were beginning to suspect that he had a heart. Verily he hadguarded his secret well. But it was let out to many more that day, andthey went home praising him who had once pronounced his name withbitterness. 

This is what happened. Before he of the yellow mustache could pick up hiscigar from the floor and make another bid, the Judge had cried out a sumwhich was the total of Colonel Carvel's assessment. Many recall to thisday how fiercely he frowned when the applause broke forth of itself; andwhen he turned to go they made a path for him, in admiration, the lengthof the hall, down which he stalked, looking neither to the right norleft. Stephen followed him, thankful for the day which had brought himinto the service of such a man. 

And so it came about that the other articles were returned to ColonelCarvel with the marshal's compliments, and put back into the cold parlorwhere they had stood for many years. The men who brought them offered toput down the carpet, but by Virginia's orders the rolls were stood up inthe corner, and the floor left bare. And days passed into weeks, and nosign or message came from Judge Whipple in regard to the piano he hadbought. Virginia did not dare mention it to the Colonel. 

Where was it? It had been carried by six sweating negroes up the narrowstairs into the Judge's office. Stephen and Shadrach had by Mr. Whipple'sorders cleared a corner of his inner office and bedroom of papers andbooks and rubbish, and there the bulky instrument was finally set up. Itoccupied one-third of the space. The Judge watched the proceeding grimly, choking now and again from the dust that was raised, yet uttering never aword. He locked the lid when the van man handed him the key, and thrustthat in his pocket. 

Stephen had of late found enough to do in St. Louis. He was the kind ofman to whom promotions came unsought, and without noise. In the autumn hehad been made a captain in the Halleck Guards of the State Militia, as areward for his indefatigable work in the armories and his knowledge oftactics. Twice his company had been called out at night, and once theymade a campaign as far as the Merimec and captured a party of recruitswho were destined for Jefferson Davis. Some weeks passed before Mr. Brinsmade heard of his promotion and this exploit, and yet scarcely a daywent by that he did not see the young man at the big hospital. ForStephen helped in the work of the Sanitary Commission too, and so stroveto make up in zeal for the service in the field which he longed to give. 

After Christmas Mr. And Mrs. Brinsmade moved out to their place on theBellefontaine Road. This was to force Anne to take a rest. For the girlwas worn out with watching at the hospitals, and with tending thedestitute mothers and children from the ranks of the refugees. TheBrinsmade place was not far from the Fair Grounds, --now a receiving campfor the crude but eager regiments of the Northern states. To Mr. Brinsmade's, when the day's duty was done, the young Union officers usedto ride, and often there would be half a dozen of them to tea. Thathouse, and other great houses on the Bellefontaine Road with which thishistory has no occasion to deal, were as homes to many a poor fellow whowould never see home again. Sometimes Anne would gather together suchyoung ladies of her acquaintance from the neighbor hood and the city astheir interests and sympathies permitted to waltz with a Union officer, and there would be a little dance. To these dances Stephen Brice wasusually invited. 

One such occasion occurred on a Friday in January, and Mr. Brinsmadehimself called in his buggy and drove Stephen to the country early in theafternoon. He and Anne went for a walk along the river, the surface ofwhich was broken by lumps of yellow ice. Gray clouds hung low in the skyas they picked their way over the frozen furrows of the ploughed fields. The grass was all a yellow-brown, but the north wind which swayed thebare trees brought a touch of color to Anne's cheeks. Before theyrealized where they were, they had nearly crossed the Bellegarde estate, and the house itself was come into view, standing high on the slope abovethe withered garden. They halted. 

"The shutters are up, " said Stephen. "I understood that Mrs. Colfax hadcome out here not long a--"

"She came out for a day just before Christina, " said Anne, smiling, "andthen she ran off to Kentucky. I think she was afraid that she was one ofthe two women on the list of Sixty. "

"It must have been a blow to her pride when she found that she was not, "said Stephen, who had a keen remembrance of her conduct upon a certainSunday not a year gone. 

Impelled by the same inclination, they walked in silence to the house andsat down on the edge of the porch. The only motion in the view was thesmoke from the slave quarters twisting in the wind, and the hurrying icein the stream. 

"Poor Jinny!" said Anne, with a sigh, "how she loved to romp! What goodtimes we used to have here together!"

"Do you think that she is unhappy?" Stephen demanded, involuntarily. 

"Oh, yes, " said Anne. "How can you ask? But you could not make her showit. The other morning when she came out to our house I found her sittingat the piano. I am sure there were tears in her eyes, but she would notlet me see them. She made some joke about Spencer Catherwood runningaway. What do you think the Judge will do with that piano, Stephen?"

He shook his head. 

"The day after they put it in his room he came in with a great blackcloth, which he spread over it. You cannot even see the feet. "

There was a silence. And Anne, turning to him timidly, gave him a long, searching look. 

"It is growing late, " she said. "I think that we ought to go back. "

They went out by the long entrance road, through the naked woods. Stephensaid little. Only a little while before he had had one of those vividdreams of Virginia which left their impression, but not their substance, to haunt him. On those rare days following the dreams her spirit had itsmastery over his. He pictured her then with a glow on her face which wasneither sadness nor mirth, --a glow that ministered to him alone. And yet, he did not dare to think that he might have won her, even if politics andwar had not divided them. 

When the merriment of the dance was at its height that evening, Stephenstood at the door of the long room, meditatively watching the brightgowns and the flash of gold on the uniforms as they flitted past. Presently the opposite door opened, and he heard Mr. Brinsmade's voicemingling with another, the excitable energy of which recalled somefamiliar episode. Almost--so it seemed--at one motion, the owner of thevoice had come out of the door and had seized Stephen's hand in a warmgrasp, --a tall and spare figure in the dress of a senior officer. Themilitary frock, which fitted the man's character rather than the man, wascarelessly open, laying bare a gold-buttoned white waistcoat and anexpanse of shirt bosom which ended in a black stock tie. The ends of thecollar were apart the width of the red clipped beard, and the mustachewas cropped straight along the line of the upper lip. The forehead rosehigh, and was brushed carelessly free of the hair. The nose was almoststraight, but combative. A fire fairly burned in the eyes. 

"The boy doesn't remember me, " said the gentleman, in quick tones, smiling at Mr. Brinsmade. 

"Yes, sir, I do, " Stephen made haste to answer. He glanced at the star onthe shoulder strap, and said. "You are General Sherman. "

"First rate!" laughed the General, patting him. "First rate!"

"Now in command at Camp Benton, Stephen, " Mr. Brinsmade put in. "Won'tyou sit down, General?"

"No, " said the General, emphatically waving away the chair. "No, ratherstand. " Then his keen face suddenly lighted with amusement, --andmischief, Stephen thought. "So you've heard of me since we met, sir?""Yes, General. "

"Humph! Guess you heard I was crazy, " said the General, in his downrightway. 

Stephen was struck dumb. 

"He's been reading the lies in the newspapers too, Brinsmade, " theGeneral went on rapidly. "I'll make 'em eat their newspapers for saying Iwas crazy. That's the Secretary of War's doings. Ever tell you whatCameron did, Brinsmade? He and his party were in Louisville last fall, when I was serving in Kentucky, and came to my room in the Galt House. Well, we locked the door, and Miller sent us up a good lunch and wine, After lunch, the Secretary lay on my bed, and we talked things over. Heasked me what I thought about things in Kentucky. I told him. I got amap. I said, 'Now, Mr. Secretary, here is the whole Union line from thePotomac to Kansas. Here's McClellan in the East with one hundred miles offront. Here's Fremont in the West with one hundred miles. Here we are inKentucky, in the centre, with three hundred miles to defend. McClellanhas a hundred thousand men, Fremont has sixty thousand. You give usfellows with over three hundred miles only eighteen thousand. ' 'How manydo you want?' says Cameron, still on the bed. 'Two hundred thousandbefore we get through, ' said I. Cameron pitched up his hands in the air. 'Great God?' says he, 'where are they to come from?' 'The northwest ischuck full of regiments you fellows at Washington won't accept, ' said I. 'Mark my words, Mr. Secretary, you'll need 'em all and more before we getdone with this Rebellion. ' Well, sir, he was very friendly before wefinished, and I thought the thing was all thrashed out. No, sir! he goesback to Washington and gives it out that I'm crazy, and want two hundredthousand men in Kentucky. Then I am ordered to report to Halleck inMissouri here, and he calls me back from Sedalia because he believes thelies. "

Stephen, who had in truth read the stories in question a month or twobefore, could not conceal his embarrassment He looked at the man in frontof him, --alert, masterful intelligent, frank to any stranger who took hisfancy, --and wondered how any one who had talked to him could believethem. 

Mr. Brinsmade smiled. "They have to print something, General, " he said. 

"I'll give 'em something to print later on, " answered the General, grimly. Then his expression changed. "Brinsmade, you fellows did have asession with Fremont, didn't you? Anderson sent me over here lastSeptember, and the first man I ran across at the Planters' House wasAppleton. '--What are you in town for?' says he. 'To see Fremont, ' Isaid. You ought to have heard Appleton laugh. 'You don't think Fremont'llsee you, do you?' says he. 'Why not?' 'Well, ' says Tom, 'go 'round to hispalace at six to-morrow morning and bribe that Hungarian prince who runshis body-guard to get you a good place in the line of senators andgovernors and first citizens, and before nightfall you may get a sight ofhim, since you come from Anderson. Not one man in a hundred, ' saysAppleton, I not one man in a hundred, reaches his chief-of-staff. ' Nextmorning, " the General continued in a staccato which was often his habit, "had breakfast before daybreak and went 'round there. Place just swarmingwith Californians--army contracts. " (The General sniffed. ) Saw Fremont. Went back to hotel. More Californians, and by gad--old Baron Steinbergerwith his nose hanging over the register. "

"Fremont was a little difficult to get at, General, " said Mr. Brinsmade. "Things were confused and discouraged when those first contracts wereawarded. Fremont was a good man, and it wasn't his fault that theinexperience of his quartermasters permitted some of those men to getrich. "

"No, " said the General. "His fault! Certainly not. Good man! To be surehe was--didn't get along with Blair. These court-martials you're havinghere now have stirred up the whole country. I guess we'll hear now howthose fortunes were made. To listen to those witnesses lie about eachother on the stand is better than the theatre. "

Stephen laughed at the comical and vivid manner in which the General setthis matter forth. He himself had been present one day of the sittings ofthe court-martial when one of the witnesses on the prices of mules wasthat same seedy man with the straw-colored mustache who had bid forVirginia's piano against the Judge. 

"Come, Stephen, " said the General, abruptly, "run and snatch one of thosepretty girls from my officers. They're having more than their share. "

"They deserve more, sir, " answered Stephen. Whereupon the General laidhis hand impulsively on the young man's shoulder, divining what Stephendid not say. 

"Nonsense!" said be; "you are doing the work in this war, not we. We dothe damage--you repair it. If it were not for Mr. Brinsmade and yougentlemen who help him, where would our Western armies be? Don't you goto the front yet a while, young man. We need the best we have inreserve. " He glanced critically at Stephen. "You've had military trainingof some sort?"

"He's a captain in the Halleck Guards, sir, " said Mr. Brinsmade, generously, "and the best drillmaster we've had in this city. He's seenservice, too, General. "

Stephen reddened furiously and started to protest, when the Generalcried:-- "It's more than I have in this war. Come, come, I knew he was asoldier. Let's see what kind of a strategist he'll make. Brinsmade, haveyou got such a thing as a map?" Mr. Brinsmade had, and led the way backinto the library. The General shut the door, lighted a cigar with asingle vigorous stroke of a match, and began to smoke with quick puffs. Stephen was puzzled how to receive the confidences the General was givingout with such freedom. 

When the map was laid on the table, the General drew a pencil from hispocket and pointed to the state of Kentucky. Then he drew a line fromColumbus to Bowling Green, through Forts Donelson and Henry. 

"Now, Stephen, " said he, "there's the Rebel line. Show me the properplace to break it. "

Stephen hesitated a while, and then pointed at the centre. 

"Good!" said the General. "Very good!" He drew a heavy line across thefirst, and it ran almost in the bed of the Tennessee River. He swung onMr. Brinsmade. "Very question Halleck asked me the other day, and that'show I answered it. Now, gentlemen, there's a man named Grant down in thatpart of the country. Keep your eyes on him. Ever heard of him, Brinsmade?He used to live here once, and a year ago he was less than I was. Nowhe's a general. "

The recollection of the scene in the street by the Arsenal that Maymorning not a year gone came to Stephen with a shock. 

"I saw him, " he cried; "he was Captain Grant that lived on the GravoisRoad. But surely this can't be the same man who seized Paducah and was inthat affair at Belmont. "

"By gum!" said the General, laughing. "Don't wonder you're surprised. Grant has stuff in him. They kicked him around Springfield awhile, afterthe war broke out, for a military carpet-bagger. Then they gave him for aregiment the worst lot of ruffians you ever laid eyes on. He fixed 'em. He made 'em walk the plank. He made 'em march halfway across the stateinstead of taking the cars the Governor offered. Belmont! I guess he isthe man that chased the Rebs out of Belmont. Then his boys broke loosewhen they got into the town. That wasn't Grant's fault. The Rebs cameback and chased 'em out into their boats on the river. Brinsmade, youremember hearing about that. 

"Grant did the coolest thing you ever saw. He sat on his horse at the topof the bluff while the boys fell over each other trying to get on theboat. Yes, sir, he sat there, disgusted, on his horse, smoking a cigar, with the Rebs raising pandemonium all around him. And then, sir, " criedthe General, excitedly, "what do you think he did? Hanged if he didn'tforce his horse right on to his haunches, slide down the whole length ofthe bank and ride him across a teetering plank on to the steamer. And theRebs just stood on the bank and stared. They were so astonished theydidn't even shoot the man. You watch Grant, " said the General. "And now, Stephen, " he added, "just you run off and take hold of the prettiest girlyou can find. If any of my boys object, say I sent you. "

The next Monday Stephen had a caller. It was little Tiefel, now a firstlieutenant with a bristly beard and tanned face, come to town on a fewdays' furlough. He had been with Lyon at Wilson's Creek, and he had a sadstory to tell of how he found poor Richter, lying stark on that bloodyfield, with a smile of peace upon his face. Strange that he should atlength have been killed by a sabre!

It was a sad meeting for those two, since each reminded the other of adear friend they would see no more on earth. They went out to suptogether in the German style; and gradually, over his beer, Tiefel forgothis sorrow. Stephen listened with an ache to the little man's tales ofthe campaigns he had been through. So that presently Tiefel cried out:

"Why, my friend, you are melancholy as an owl. I will tell you a funnystory. Did you ever hear of one General Sherman? He that they say iscrazy?"

"He is no more crazy than I am, " said Stephen, warmly--

"Is he not?" answered Tiefel, "then I will show you a mistake. You recalllast November he was out to Sedalia to inspect the camp there, and hesleeps in a little country store where I am quartered. Now up gets yourGeneral Sherman in the middle of the night, --midnight, --and marches upand down between the counters, and waves his arms. So, says he, 'landso, ' says he, 'Sterling Price will be here, and Steele here, and thiscolumn will take that road, and so-and-so's a damned fool. Is not thatcrazy? So he walks up and down for three eternal hours. Says he, 'Popehas no business to be at Osterville, and Steele here at Sedalia with hisregiments all over the place. They must both go into camp at La MineRiver, and form brigades and divisions, that the troops may be handled. '"

"If that's insanity, " cried Stephen so strongly as to surprise the littleman; "then I wish we had more insane generals. It just shows how amalicious rumor will spread. What Sherman said about Pope's and Steele'sforces is true as Gospel, and if you ever took the trouble to look intothat situation, Tiefel, you would see it. " And Stephen brought down hismug on the table with a crash that made the bystanders jump. 

"Himmel!" exclaimed little Tiefel. But he spoke in admiration. 

It was not a month after that that Sherman's prophecy of the quietgeneral who had slid down the bluff at Belmont came true. The wholecountry bummed with Grant's praises. Moving with great swiftness andsecrecy up the Tennessee, in company with the gunboats of CommodoreFoote, he had pierced the Confederate line at the very point Sherman hadindicated. Fort Henry had fallen, and Grant was even then moving tobesiege Donelson. 

Mr. Brinsmade prepared to leave at once for the battlefield, taking withhim too Paducah physicians and nurses. All day long the boat was loadingwith sanitary stores and boxes of dainties for the wounded. It was muggyand wet--characteristic of that winter--as Stephen pushed through thedrays on the slippery levee to the landing. 

He had with him a basket his mother had put up. He also bore a message toMr. Brinsmade from the Judge It was while he was picking his way alongthe crowded decks that he ran into General Sherman. The General seizedhim unceremoniously by the shoulder. 

"Good-by, Stephen, " he said. 

"Good-by, General, " said Stephen, shifting his basket to shake hands. "Are you going away?"

"Ordered to Paducah, " said the General. He pulled Stephen off the guardsinto an empty cabin. "Brice, " said he, earnestly, "I haven't forgottenhow you saved young Brinsmade at Camp Jackson. They tell me that you areuseful here. I say, don't go in unless you have to. I don't mean force, you understand. But when you feel that you can go in, come to me or writeme a letter. That is, " he added, seemingly inspecting Stephen's whiteteeth with approbation, "if you're not afraid to serve under a crazyman. "

It has been said that the General liked the lack of effusiveness ofStephen's reply. 

CHAPTER VI

ELIPHALET PLAYS HIS TRUMPS

Summer was come again. Through interminable days, the sun beat down uponthe city; and at night the tortured bricks flung back angrily the heatwith which he had filled them. Great battles had been fought, and vastarmies were drawing breath for greater ones to come. 

"Jinny, " said the Colonel one day, "as we don't seem to be much use intown, I reckon we may as well go to Glencoe. "

Virginia, threw her arms around her father's neck. For many months shehad seen what the Colonel himself was slow to comprehend--that hisusefulness was gone. The days melted into weeks, and Sterling Price andhis army of liberation failed to come. The vigilant Union general and hisaides had long since closed all avenues to the South. For, one finemorning toward the end of the previous summer, when the Colonel wascontemplating a journey, he had read that none might leave the citywithout a pass, whereupon he went hurriedly to the office of the ProvostMarshal. There he had found a number of gentlemen in the same plight, each waving a pass made out by the Provost Marshal's clerks, and waitingfor that officer's signature. The Colonel also procured one of these, andfell into line. The Marshal gazed at the crowd, pulled off his coat, andreadily put his name to the passes of several gentlemen going east. Nextcame Mr. Bub Ballington, whom the Colonel knew, but pretended not to. 

"Going to Springfield?" asked the Marshal, genially. 

"Yes, " said Bub. 

"Not very profitable to be a minute-man, eh?" in the same tone. 

The Marshal signs his name, Mr, Ballington trying not to look indignantas he makes for the door. A small silver bell rings on the Marshal'sdesk, the one word: "Spot!" breaks the intense silence, which is one wayof saying that Mr. Ballington is detained, and will probably be lodgedthat night at Government expense. 

"Well, Colonel Carvel, what can I do for you this morning?" asked theMarshal, genially. 

The Colonel pushed back his hat and wiped his brow. "I reckon I'll waittill next week, Captain, " said Mr. Carvel. "It's pretty hot to traveljust now. "

The Provost Marshal smiled sweetly. There were many in the office whowould have liked to laugh, but it did not pay to laugh at some people. Colonel Carvel was one of them. 

In the proclamation of martial law was much to make life less endurablethan ever. All who were convicted by a court-martial of being rebels wereto have property confiscated, and slaves set free. Then there was acertain oath to be taken by all citizens who did not wish to haveguardians appointed over their actions. There were many who swallowedthis oath and never felt any ill effects. Mr. Jacob Cluyme was one, andcame away feeling very virtuous. It was not unusual for Mr. Cluyme tofeel virtuous. Mr. Hopper did not have indigestion after taking it, butColonel Carvel would sooner have eaten, gooseberry pie, which he hadnever tasted but once. 

That summer had worn away, like a monster which turns and gives hot gaspswhen you think it has expired. It took the Arkansan just a month, underVirginia's care, to become well enough to be sent to a Northern prison Hewas not precisely a Southern gentleman, and he went to sleep over the"Idylls of the King. " But he was admiring, and grateful, and wept when hewent off to the boat with the provost's guard, destined for a Northernprison. Virginia wept too. He had taken her away from her aunt (who wouldhave nothing to do with him), and had given her occupation. She nor herfather never tired of hearing his rough tales of Price's rough army. 

His departure was about the time when suspicions were growing set. Thefavor had caused comment and trouble, hence there was no hope of givinganother sufferer the same comfort. The cordon was drawn tighter. One ofthe mysterious gentlemen who had been seen in the vicinity of ColonelCarvel's house was arrested on the ferry, but he had contrived to be ridof the carpet-sack in which certain precious letters were carried. 

Throughout the winter, Mr. Hopper's visits to Locust Street had continuedat intervals of painful regularity. It is not necessary to dwell upon hisbrilliant powers of conversation, nor to repeat the platitudes which herepeated, for there was no significance in Mr. Hopper's tales, not aparticle. The Colonel had found that out, and was thankful. His mannerswere better; his English decidedly better. 

It was for her father's sake, of course, that Virginia bore with him. Such is the appointed lot of women. She tried to be just, and it occurredto her that she had never before been just. Again and again she repeatedto herself that Eliphalet's devotion to the Colonel at this low ebb ofhis fortunes had something in it of which she did not suspect him. Shehad a class contempt for Mr. Hopper as an uneducated Yankee and a personof commercial ideals. But now he was showing virtues, --if virtues theywere, --and she tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. With his greatshrewdness and business ability, why did he not take advantage of themany opportunities the war gave to make a fortune? For Virginia had oflate been going to the store with the Colonel, --who spent his morningsturning over piles of dusty papers, and Mr. Hopper had always been at hisdesk. 

After this, Virginia even strove to be kind to him, but it was uphillwork. The front door never closed after one of his visits that suspicionwas not left behind. Antipathy would assert itself. Could it be thatthere was a motive under all this plotting? He struck her inevitably asthe kind who would be content to mine underground to attain an end. Theworst she could think of him was that he wished to ingratiate himselfnow, in the hope that, when the war was ended, he might become a partnerin Mr. Carvel's business. She had put even this away as unworthy of her. 

Once she had felt compelled to speak to her father on the subject. 

"I believe I did him an injustice, Pa, " she said. "Not that I like himany better now. I must be honest about that. I simply can't like him. ButI do think that if he had been as unscrupulous as I thought, he wouldhave deserted you long ago for something more profitable. He would not besitting in the office day after day making plans for the business whenthe war is over. "

She remembered how sadly he had smiled at her over the top of his paper. 

"You are a good girl, Jinny, " he said. 

Toward the end of July of that second summer riots broke out in the city, and simultaneously a bright spot appeared on Virginia's horizon. Thistook the form, for Northerners, of a guerilla scare, and an order waspromptly issued for the enrollment of all the able-bodied men in the tenwards as militia, subject to service in the state, to exterminate theroving bands. Whereupon her Britannic Majesty became extremely popular, --even with some who claimed for a birthplace the Emerald Isle. Hundredswho heretofore had valued but lightly their British citizenship madehaste to renew their allegiance; and many sought the office of theEnglish Consul whose claims on her Majesty's protection were vague, tosay the least. Broken heads and scandal followed. For the first time, when Virginia walked to the store with her father, Eliphalet was notthere. It was strange indeed that Virginia defended him. 

"I don't blame him for not wanting to fight for the Yankees, " she said. 

The Colonel could not resist a retort. 

"Then why doesn't he fight for the South he asked"

"Fight for the South!" cried the young lady, scornfully. "Mr. Hopperfight? I reckon the South wouldn't have him. "

"I reckon not, too, " said the Colonel, dryly. 

For the following week curiosity prompted Virginia to take that walk withthe Colonel. Mr. Hopper being still absent, she helped him to sort thepapers--those grimy reminders of a more prosperous time gone by. OftenMr. Carvel would run across one which seemed to bring some incident tohis mind; for he would drop it absently on his desk, his hand seeking hischin, and remain for half an hour lost in thought. Virginia would notdisturb him. 

Meanwhile there had been inquiries for Mr. Hopper. The Colonel answeredthem all truthfully--generally with that dangerous suavity for which hewas noted. Twice a seedy man with a gnawed yellow mustache had come in toask Eliphalet's whereabouts. On the second occasion this individualbecame importunate. 

"You don't know nothin' about him, you say?" he demanded. 

"No, " said the Colonel. 

The man took a shuffle forward. 

"My name's Ford, " he said. "I 'low I kin 'lighten you a little. "

"Good day, sir, " said the Colonel. 

"I guess you'll like to hear what I've got to say. "

"Ephum, " said Mr. Carvel in his natural voice, "show this man out. "

Mr. Ford slunk out without Ephum's assistance. But he half turned at thedoor, and shot back a look that frightened Virginia. 

"Oh, Pa, " she cried, in alarm, "what did he mean?"

"I couldn't tell you, Jinny, " he answered. But she noticed that he wasvery thoughtful as they walked home. The next morning Eliphalet had notreturned, but a corporal and guard were waiting to search the store forhim. The Colonel read the order, and invited them in with hospitality. Heeven showed them the way upstairs, and presently Virginia heard them alltramping overhead among the bales. Her eye fell upon the paper they hadbrought, which lay unfolded on her father's desk. It was signed StephenA. Brice, Enrolling Officer. 

That very afternoon they moved to Glencoe, and Ephum was left in solecharge of the store. At Glencoe, far from the hot city and the cruel war, began a routine of peace. Virginia was a child again, romping in thewoods and fields beside her father. The color came back to her cheeksonce more, and the laughter into her voice. The two of them, and Ned andMammy, spent a rollicking hour in the pasture the freedom of which Dickhad known so long, before the old horse was caught and brought back intobondage. After that Virginia took long drives with her father, and cominghome, they would sit in the summer house high above the Merimec, listening to the crickets' chirp, and watching the day fade upon thewater. The Colonel, who had always detested pipes, learned to smoke acorncob. He would sit by the hour, with his feet on the rail of the porchand his hat tilted back, while Virginia read to him. Poe and Wordsworthand Scott he liked, but Tennyson was his favorite. Such happiness couldnot last. 

One afternoon when Virginia was sitting in the summer house alone, herthoughts wandering back, as they sometimes did, to another afternoon shehad spent there, --it seemed so long ago, --when she saw Mammy Eastercoming toward her. 

"Honey, dey's comp'ny up to de house. Mister Hopper's done arrived. He'son de porch, talkin' to your Pa. Lawsey, look wha he come!"

In truth, the solid figure of Eliphalet himself was on the path sometwenty yards behind her. His hat was in his hand; his hair was plastereddown more neatly than ever, and his coat was a faultless and sobercreation of a Franklin Avenue tailor. He carried a cane, which wasunheard of. Virginia sat upright, and patted her skirts with a gesture ofannoyance--what she felt was anger, resentment. Suddenly she rose, sweptpast Mammy, and met him ten paces from the summer house. 

"How-dy-do, Miss Virginia, " he cried pleasantly. "Your father had anotion you might be here. " He said fayther. 

Virginia gave him her hand limply. Her greeting would have frozen a manof ardent temperament. But it was not precisely ardor that Eliphaletshowed. The girl paused and examined him swiftly. There was something inthe man's air to-day. 

"So you were not caught?" she said. 

Her words seemed to relieve some tension in him. He laughed noiselessly. 

"I just guess I wahn't. "

"How did you escape?" she asked, looking at him curiously. 

"Well, I did, first of all. You're considerable smart, Miss Jinny, butI'll bet you can't tell me where I was, now. "

"I do not care to know. The place might save you again. "

He showed his disappointment. "I cal'lated it might interest you to knowhow I dodged the Sovereign State of Missouri. General Halleck made anorder that released a man from enrolling on payment of ten dollars. Ipaid. Then I was drafted into the Abe Lincoln Volunteers; I paid asubstitute. And so here I be, exercising life, and liberty, and thepursuit of happiness. "

"So you bought yourself free?" said Virginia. "If your substitute getskilled, I suppose you will have cause for congratulation. "

Eliphalet laughed, and pulled down his cuffs. "That's his lookout, Ical'late, " said he. He glanced at the girl in a way that made her vaguelyuneasy. She turned from him, back toward the summer house. Eliphalet'seyes smouldered as they rested upon her figure. He took a step forward. 

"Miss Jinny?" he said. 

"Yes?"

"I've heard considerable about the beauties of this place. Would you mindshowing me 'round a bit?" Virginia started. It was his tone now. Notsince that first evening in Locust Street had it taken on such assurance, And yet she could not be impolite to a guest. 

"Certainly not, " she replied, but without looking up. Eliphalet led theway. He came to the summer house, glanced around it with apparentsatisfaction, and put his foot on the moss-grown step. Virginia did asurprising thing. She leaped quickly into the doorway before him, andstood facing him, framed in the climbing roses. 

"Oh, Mr. Hopper!" she cried. "Please, not in here. " He drew back, staringin astonishment at the crimson in her face. 

"Why not?" he asked suspiciously--almost brutally. She had been gropingwildly for excuses, and found none. 

"Because, " she said, "because I ask you not to. " With dignity: "Thatshould be sufficient. "

"Well, " replied Eliphalet, with an abortive laugh, "that's funny, now. Womenkind get queer notions, which I cal'late we've got to respect andput up with all our lives--eh?"

Her anger flared at his leer and at his broad way of gratifying her whim. And she was more incensed than ever at his air of being at home--it wasnothing less. 

The man's whole manner was an insult. She strove still to hide herresentment. 

"There is a walk along the bluff, " she said, coldly, "where the view isjust as good. "

But she purposely drew him into the right-hand path, which led, after alittle, back to the house. Despite her pace he pressed forward to herside. 

"Miss Jinny, " said he, precipitately, "did I ever strike you as amarrying man?"

Virginia stopped, and put her handkerchief to her face, the impulsestrong upon her to laugh. Eliphalet was suddenly transformed again intothe common commercial Yankee. He was in love, and had come to ask heradvice. She might have known it. 

"I never thought of you as of the marrying kind, Mr. Hopper, " sheanswered, her voice quivering. 

Indeed, he was irresistibly funny as he stood hot and ill at ease. TheSunday coat bore witness to his increasing portliness by creasing acrossfrom the buttons; his face, fleshy and perspiring, showed purple veins, and the little eyes receded comically, like a pig's. 

"Well, I've been thinking serious of late about getting married, " hecontinued, slashing the rose bushes with his stick. "I don't cal'late tobe a sentimental critter. I'm not much on high-sounding phrases, and suchthings, but I'd give you my word I'd make a good husband. "

"Please be careful of those roses, Mr. Hopper. "

"Beg pardon, " said Eliphalet. He began to lose track of his tenses--thatwas the only sign he gave of perturbation. "When I come to St. Louiswithout a cent, Miss Jinny, I made up my mind I'd be a rich man before Ileft it. If I was to die now, I'd have kept that promise. I'm notthirty-four, and I cal'late I've got as much money in a safe place as agood many men you call rich. I'm not saying what I've got, mind you. Allin proper time. 

"I'm a pretty steady kind. I've stopped chewing--there was a time when Idone that. And I don't drink nor smoke. "

"That is all very commendable, Mr. Hopper, " Virginia said, stifling arebellious titter. "But, --but why did you give up chewing?"

"I am informed that the ladies are against it, " said Eliphalet, --"deadagainst it. You wouldn't like it in a husband, now, would you?"

This time the laugh was not to be put down. "I confess I shouldn't, " shesaid. 

"Thought so, " he replied, as one versed. His tones took on a nasal twang. "Well, as I was saying, I've about got ready to settle down, and I've hadmy eye on the lady this seven years. "

"Marvel of constancy!" said Virginia. "And the lady?"

"The lady, " said Eliphalet, bluntly, "is you. " He glanced at herbewildered face and went on rapidly: "You pleased me the first day I seteyes on you in the store I said to myself, 'Hopper, there's the one foryou to marry. ' I'm plain, but my folks was good people. I set to workright then to make a fortune for you, Miss Jinny. You've just what Ineed. I'm a plain business man with no frills. You'll do the frills. You're the kind that was raised in the lap of luxury. You'll need a manwith a fortune, and a big one; you're the sort to show it off. I've gotthe foundations of that fortune, and the proof of it right here. And Itell you, "--his jaw was set, --"I tell you that some day Eliphalet Hopperwill be one of the richest men in the West. "

He had stopped, facing her in the middle of the way, his voice strong, his confidence supreme. At first she had stared at him in dumb wonder. Then, as she began to grasp the meaning of his harangue, astonishment wasstill dominant, --sheer astonishment. She scarcely listened. But, as hefinished, the thatch of the summer house caught her eye. A vision aroseof a man beside whom Eliphalet was not worthy to crawl. She thought ofStephen as he had stood that evening in the sunset, and this proposalseemed a degradation. This brute dared to tempt her with money. Scaldingwords rose to her lips. But she caught the look on Eliphalet's face, andshe knew that he would not understand. This was one who rose and fell, who lived and loved and hated and died and was buried by--money. 

For a second she looked into his face as one who escapes a pit gazes overthe precipice, and shuddered. As for Eliphalet, let it not be thoughtthat he had no passion. This was the moment for which he had lived sincethe day he had first seen her and been scorned in the store. That type offace, that air, --these were the priceless things he would buy with hismoney. Crazed with the very violence of his long-pent desire, he seizedher hand. She wrung it free again. 

"How--how dare you!" she cried. 

He staggered back, and stood for a moment motionless, as though stunned. Then, slowly, a light crept into his little eyes which haunted her formany a day. 

"You--won't--marry me?" he said. 

"Oh, how dare you ask me!" exclaimed Virginia, her face burning with theshame of it. She was standing with her hands behind her, her back againsta great walnut trunk, the crusted branches of which hung over the bluff. Even as he looked at her, Eliphalet lost his head, and indiscretionentered his soul. 

"You must!" he said hoarsely. "You must! You've got no notion of mymoney, I say. "

"Oh!" she cried, "can't you understand? If you owned the whole ofCalifornia, I would not marry you. " Suddenly he became very cool. Heslipped his hand into a pocket, as one used to such a motion, and drewout some papers. 

"I cal'late you ain't got much idea of the situation, Miss Carvel, " hesaid; "the wheels have been a-turning lately. You're poor, but I guessyou don't know how poor you are, --eh? The Colonel's a man of honor, ain'the?"

For her life she could not have answered, --nor did she even know why shestayed to listen. 

"Well, " he said, "after all, there ain't much use in your lookin' overthem papers. A woman wouldn't know. I'll tell you what they say: they saythat if I choose, I am Carvel & Company. "

The little eyes receded, and he waited a moment, seemingly to prolong aphysical delight in the excitement and suffering of a splendid creature. The girl was breathing fast and deep. 

"I cal'late you despise me, don't you?" he went on, as if that, too, gavehim pleasure. "But I tell you the Colonel's a beggar but for me. Go andask him if I'm lying. All you've got to do is to say you'll be my wife, and I tear these notes in two. They go over the bluff. " (He made themotion with his hands. ) "Carvel & Company's an old firm, --a respectedfirm. You wouldn't care to see it go out of the family, I cal'late. "

He paused again, triumphant. But she did none of the things he expected. She said, simply:--"Will you please follow me, Mr. Hopper. "

And he followed her, --his shrewdness gone, for once. 

Save for the rise and fall of her shoulders she seemed calm. The pathwound through a jungle of waving sunflowers and led into the shade infront of the house. There was the Colonel sitting on the porch. His pipelay with its scattered ashes on the boards, and his head was bentforward, as though listening. When he saw the two, he rose expectantly, and went forward to meet them. Virginia stopped before him. 

"Pa, " she said, "is it true that you have borrowed money from this man?"

Eliphalet had seen Mr. Carvel angry once, and his soul had quivered. Terror, abject terror, seized him now, so that his knees smote together. As well stare into the sun as into the Colonel's face. In one stride hehad a hand in the collar of Eliphalet's new coat, the other pointing downthe path. 

"It takes just a minute to walk to that fence, sir, " he said sternly. "Ifyou are any longer about it, I reckon you'll never get past it. You're acowardly hound, sir!" Mr. Hopper's gait down the flagstones was aninvention of his own. It was neither a walk, nor a trot, nor a run, but asort of sliding amble, such as is executed in nightmares. Singing in hishead was the famous example of the eviction of Babcock from the store, --the only time that the Colonel's bullet had gone wide. And down in thesmall of his back Eliphalet listened for the crack of a pistol, andfeared that a clean hole might be bored there any minute. Once outside, he took to the white road, leaving a trail of dust behind him that awagon might have raised. Fear lent him wings, but neglected to lift hisfeet. 

The Colonel passed his arm around his daughter, and pulled his goateethoughtfully. And Virginia, glancing shyly upward, saw a smile in thecreases about his mouth: She smiled, too, and then the tears hid him fromher. 

Strange that the face which in anger withered cowards and made men lookgrave, was capable of such infinite tenderness, --tenderness and sorrow. The Colonel took Virginia in his arms, and she sobbed against hisshoulder, as of old. 

"Jinny, did he--?"

"Yes--"

"Lige was right, and--and you, Jinny--I should never have trusted him. The sneak!"

Virginia raised her head. The sun was slanting in yellow bars through thebranches of the great trees, and a robin's note rose above the basschorus of the frogs. In the pauses, as she listened, it seemed as if shecould hear the silver sound of the river over the pebbles far below. 

"Honey, " said the Colonel, --"I reckon we're just as poor as white trash. "

Virginia smiled through her tears. 

"Honey, " he said again, after a pause, "I must keep my word and let himhave the business. "

She did not reproach him. 

"There is a little left, a very little, " he continued slowly, painfully. "I thank God that it is yours. It was left you by Becky--by your mother. It is in a railroad company in New York, and safe, Jinny. "

"Oh, Pa, you know that I do not care, " she cried. "It shall be yours andmine together. And we shall live out here and be happy. "

But she glanced anxiously at him nevertheless. He was in his familiarposture of thought, his legs slightly apart, his felt hat pushed back, stroking his goatee. But his clear gray eyes were troubled as they soughthers, and she put her hand to her breast. 

"Virginia, " he said, "I fought for my country once, and I reckon I'm someuse yet awhile. It isn't right that I should idle here, while the Southneeds me, Your Uncle Daniel is fifty-eight, and Colonel of a Pennsylvaniaregiment. --Jinny, I have to go. "

Virginia said nothing. It was in her blood as well as his. The Colonelhad left his young wife, to fight in Mexico; he had come home to layflowers on her grave. She knew that he thought of this; and, too, thathis heart was rent at leaving her. She put her hands on his shoulders, and he stooped to kiss her trembling lips. 

They walked out together to the summer-house, and stood watching theglory of the light on the western hills. "Jinn, " said the Colonel, "Ireckon you will have to go to your Aunt Lillian. It--it will be hard. ButI know that my girl can take care of herself. In case--in case I do notcome back, or occasion should arise, find Lige. Let him take you to yourUncle Daniel. He is fond of you, and will be all alone in Calvert Housewhen the war is over. And I reckon that is all I have to say. I won't pryinto your heart, honey. If you love Clarence, marry him. I like the boy, and I believe he will quiet down into a good man. "

Virginia did not answer, but reached out for her father's hand and heldits fingers locked tight in her own. From the kitchen the sound of Ned'svoice rose in the still evening air. 

 "Sposin' I was to go to N' Orleans an' take sick and die, Laik a bird into de country ma spirit would fly. "

And after a while down the path the red and yellow of Mammy Easter'sbandanna was seen. 

"Supper, Miss Jinny. Laws, if I ain't ramshacked de premises fo' you bof. De co'n bread's gittin' cold. "

That evening the Colonel and Virginia thrust a few things into her littleleather bag they had chosen together in London. Virginia had found acigar, which she hid until they went down to the porch, and there shegave it to him; when he lighted the match she saw that his hand shook. 

Half an hour later he held her in his arms at the gate, and she heard hisfirm tread die in the dust of the road. The South had claimed him atlast.