THE BLOCKADE RUNNER
"I intend to trust you with important despatches, Miss Grey—for I have great confidence in female ingenuity, as well as female heroism. The meekest of women are miniature Granvelles; nature made you a race of schemers.Pardon me if I ask, how you propose to conceal the despatches? It is no easy matter now to run the blockade of a Southern port, especially on the Gulf; and you must guard against being picked up by the Philistines."
"I am fully aware of all the risk attending my trip; but if you will give me the papers, prepared as I directed in my note from Paris, I will pledge my life that they shall reach Richmond safely. If I am captured and carried North, I have friends who will assist me in procuring a passport to the South, and little delay will occur. If I am searched, I can bid them defiance. Give me the despatches, and I will show you how I intend to take them."
Electra opened her trunk, took out a large portfolio, and selected from the drawings one in crayon representing the heads of Michael Angelo's Fates. Spreading it out, face downward, on the table, she laid the closely-written tissue paper of despatches smoothly on the back of the thin pasteboard; then fitted a square piece of oil-silk on the tissue missive, and having, with a small brush, coated the silk with paste, covered the whole with a piece of thick drawing paper, the edges of which were carefully glued to those of the pasteboard. Taking a hot iron from the grate, she passed it repeatedly over the paper, till all was smooth and dry; then in the centre wrote with a pencil: "Michael Angelo'sFates, in the Pitti Palace. Copied May 8th, 1861." From a list of figures in a small note-book she added the dimensions of the picture, and underneath all, a line from Euripides.
Her eyes sparkled as she bent over her work, and at length, lifting it for inspection, she exclaimed triumphantly—
"There, sir! I can baffle even the Paris detective, much more the lynx-eyed emissaries of Lincoln, Seward & Co. Are you satisfied? Examine it with your own hands."
"Perfectly satisfied, my dear young lady. But suppose they should seize your trunk? Confiscation is the cry all over the North."
"Finding nothing suspicious or 'contraband' about me, except my Southern birth and sympathies, they wouldscarcely take possession of the necessary tools of my profession. I have no fear, sir; the paper is fated to reach its destination."
"Are your other despatches sealed up pictorially?"
She laughed heartily.
"Of course not. We women are too shrewd to hazard all upon one die."
"Well—well! You see that we trust important data to your cunning fingers. You leave London to-morrow for Southampton; will arrive just in time for the steamer. Good-bye, Miss Grey. When I get back to the Confederacy, I shall certainly find you out. I want you to paint the portraits of my wife and children. From the enviable reputation you have already acquired I am proud to claim you for my countrywoman. God bless you, and lead you safely home. Good-bye, Mr. Mitchell. Take care of her and let me hear from you on your arrival."
From the hour when tidings of the fall of Sumter reached Europe, Electra had resolved to cut short the studies which she had pursued so vigorously since her removal to Florence, and return to the South. But the tide of travel set toward, not from European shores, and it was not until after repeated attempts to find some one homeward-bound, that she learned of Eric Mitchell's presence in Paris, and his intention of soon returning to W——. She wrote at once, requesting his permission to place herself under his care. It was cordially accorded; and, bidding adieu to Italy, she joined him without delay, despite the pleadings of Mr., Mrs. Young, and Louisa, who had recently arrived at Florence, and sincerely mourned a separation under such painful circumstances.
Eric was detained in Paris by a severe attack of the old disease, but finally reached London—whence, having completed their arrangements, they set off for Southampton, and took passage in theTrent, which was destined subsequently to play a prominent part in the tangled rôle of Diplomacy, and to furnish the most utterly humiliating of many chapters of the pusillanimity, sycophancy, and degradation of the Federal government.
The voyage proved pleasant and prosperous; and, onceat Havana, Eric anxiously sought an opportunity of testing the vaunted efficiency of the blockade. Unfortunately, two steamers had started the week previous, one to New Orleans, the other to Charleston; only sailing vessels were to be found, and about the movements of these, impenetrable mystery seemed wrapped. On the afternoon of the third day after their arrival, Eric, wearied with the morning's fruitless inquiry, was resting on the sofa at the hotel, while Electra watched the tide of passers-by, when Willis, Eric's servant, came in quickly, and walked up to the sofa.
"Master, Captain Wright is here. I asked him to come and see you, and he is waiting downstairs."
"Captain Wright?"
"Yes, sir; the captain you liked so much at Smyrna—the one who gave you that pipe, sir."
"Oh, I remember! Yes—yes; and he is here? Well, show him up."
"Master, from the way he watches the clouds, I believe he is about to run out. Maybe he can take us?"
"Willis is invaluable to you, Mr. Mitchell," said Electra, as the negro left the room.
"He is indeed. He is eyes, ears, crutches, everything to me, and never forgets anything or anybody. He has travelled over half the world with me—could desert me, and be free at any moment he felt inclined to do so—but is as faithful now as the day on which I first left home with him."
"Ah, Captain! this is an unexpected pleasure. I am heartily glad to see you. Miss Grey—Captain Wright. Take a seat."
The captain looked about thirty, possibly older; wore a grey suit and broad straw hat, and, when the latter was tossed on the floor, showed a handsome, frank, beaming face, with large, clear, smiling blue eyes, whose steady light nothing human could dim. His glossy reddish-brown hair was thrust back from a forehead white and smooth as a woman's, but the lower portion of the face was effectually bronzed by exposure to the vicissitudes of climate and weather; and Electra noticed a peculiar nervous restlessness of manner, as though he were habitually on the watch.
"I am astonished to see you in Havana, Mitchell.Where did you come from?"
"Just from Paris, where bad health drove me, after I bade you good-bye at Smyrna. Have you a vessel here, captain?"
"Of course I have! Don't you suppose that I would be in the army if I could not serve my country better by carrying in arms and ammunition? I have already made two successful trips with my schooner—ran in, despite the blockaders. I am negotiating for a steamer, but until I can get one ready I intend to sail on."
"When did you arrive here last?"
"About ten days ago. They chased me for nearly fifteen miles, but I stole out of sight before morning."
"When do you expect to leave here?"
The captain darted a swift, searching glance at Electra, rose and closed the door, saying, with a light laugh—
"Take care, man! You are not exactly deer-hunting or crab-catching in a free country! Mind that, and talk softly. I am watched here; the Federal agents all know me, and there are several Federal vessels in port. When do I expect to leave? Well, to-night, if the weather thickens up, as I think it will, and there is evident sign of a storm. Most sailors wait for fair weather; we blockade runners for foul."
"Oh, Captain! do take us with you!" said Electra eagerly.
"What! In a rickety schooner, in the teeth of a gale? Besides, Miss, I am taking a cargo of powder this trip, and if I am hard pressed I shall blow up vessel and all, rather than suffer it to fall into Yankee clutches. You would not relish going up to heaven after the fashion of a rocket, would you?"
"I am willing, sir, to risk everything you threaten, rather than wait here indefinitely."
"Can't you take us, Wright—Miss Grey, Willis, and myself? We are very impatient to get home."
"But I have no accommodation for passengers."
"But I suppose, sir, we could contrive to live a few days without eating at a regular table. I will take somecheese and crackers and fruit along in a basket, if that will ease your mind. Do waive your scruples, and consent to take charge of us."
"I add my prayers to hers. Wright, do take us. We shall not mind privations or inconvenience."
"Well, then, understand distinctly that, if anything happens, you are not to blame me. If the young lady gets sea-sick, or freckled, or sunburnt, or starved to death, or blown up, or drowned, or, worse than all, if the Yankee thieves by the wayside take her as a prize, it will be no fault of mine whatever, and I tell you now I shall not lay it on my conscience."
"Wright, to what part are you bound?"
"Ah! that is more than I can tell you. The winds must decide it. I can't try the Carolinas again this trip; they are watching for me too closely there. New Orleans is rather a longer run than I care to make, and I shall keep my eyes on Apalachicola and Mobile."
"What object have you in starting to-night, particularly in the face of a gale?"
Again the captain's eyes swept round the room, to guard against any doors that might be ajar.
"As I told you before, I am watched here. The Federals have a distinguished regard for me, and I have to elude suspicion, as well as run well, when I do get out. Two hours ago a Federal armed steamer which has been coaling here, weighed anchor, and has probably left the harbour, to cruise between this place and Key West. As they passed, one of the crew yelled out to me that they would wait outside, and catch me certainly this time; that I had made my last jaunt to Dixie, etc. I have carefully put out the impression that I need some repairs, which cannot be finished this week; and have told one or two confidentially that I could not leave until the arrival of a certain cargo from Nassau which is due to-morrow. That Puritanical craft which started off at noon does not expect me for several days, and to-night I shall rub my fingers and sail out right in her wake. Ha! ha! how they will howl! What gnashing of teeth there will be, when they hear of me in a Confederate port! And now about your baggage.Have everything ready; I will show Willis the right wharf, and at dark he must bring the trunks down; I will be on the watch, and send a boat ashore. About sunset you and Miss Grey can come aboard, as if for a mere visit. I must go and make what little preparation I can for your comfort."
Nothing occurred to frustrate the plan; Eric and Electra were cordially received, and at dusk Willis and the baggage arrived punctually. The schooner was lying some distance from the wharf, all sails down, and apparently contemplating no movement. With darkness came a brisk, stiffening wind, and clouds shutting out even dim starlight. At ten o'clock, all things being in readiness, the captain went on deck; very soon after the glimmering lights of the city, then the frowning walls of Moro, were left behind, and theDixietook her way silently and swiftly seaward.
About two o'clock, being unable to sleep, from the rocking of the vessel, Electra, knowing that Eric was still on deck, crept up the steps in the darkness, for the lights had been extinguished. The captain was passing, but paused, saying in a whisper—
"Is that you, Miss Grey? Come this way and I will show you something."
He grasped her hand, led her to the bow, where Eric was sitting on a coil of rope, and, pointing straightforward, added in the same suppressed tone—
"Look right ahead—you see a light? The Philistines are upon us! Look well, and you will see a dark, irregular, moving mass; that is the steamer of which I told you. They have found out at last that there is going to be all sorts of a gale, and as they can't ride it like my snug, dainty little egg-shell, they are putting back with all possible speed. Twenty minutes ago they were bearing down on me; now you see that they will pass to our left. What a pity they don't know their neighbours!"
"Do you think that they will not see you?"
"Certainly! with sails down, and lights out, there is nothing to be seen on such a night as this. There! don't you hear her paddles?"
"No.I hear nothing but the roar of the wind and water."
"Ah! that is because your ears are not trained like mine. Great Neptune! how she labours already! Now! be silent."
On came the steamer, which Electra's untrained eyes, almost blinded by spray, could barely discern; and her heart beat like a muffled drum as it drew nearer and nearer. Once she heard a low, chuckling laugh of satisfaction escape the captain; then, with startling distinctness, the ringing of a bell was borne from the steamer's deck.
"Four bells—two o'clock. How chagrined they will be to-morrow, when they find out they passed me without paying their respects!" whispered the captain.
Gradually the vessel receded, the dark mass grew indistinct, the light flickered, and was soon lost to view, and the sound of the labouring machinery was drowned in the roar of the waves.
Before he went back on deck, the captain made a comfortable place for her on the sofa in the little cabin. The storm increased until it blew a perfect hurricane, and the schooner rolled and creaked, now and then shivering in every timber. It was utterly impossible to sleep, and Eric, who was suffering from a headache, passed a miserable night. In the white sickly dawn the captain looked in again, and Electra thought that no ray of sunshine could be more radiant or cheering than his joyous, noble face.
About noon the fury of the gale subsided, the sun looked out through rifts in the scudding clouds, and toward night fields of quiet blue were once more visible. By next morning the weather had cleared up, with a brisk westerly wind; but the sea still rolled heavily; and Eric, unable to bear the motion, kept below, loth to trust himself on his feet. Electra strove to while away the tedious time by reading aloud to him; but many a yearning look was cast toward the deck, and finally she left him with a few books, and ran up to the open air.
On the afternoon of the third day after leaving Havana the captain said—
"Well, Miss Grey, I shall place you on Confederate soil to-morrow, God willing."
"Then you are going to Mobile?"
"Yes; I shall try hard to get in there early in the morning. You will know your fate before many hours."
"Do you regard this trial as particularly hazardous?"
"Of course; the blockading squadrons grow more efficient and expert every day, and some danger necessarily attends every trial. Mobile ought to be pretty well guarded by this time."
The wind was favourable, and the schooner ploughed its way swiftly through the autumn night. The captain did not close his eyes; and just about daylight Electra and Eric, aroused by a sudden running to and fro, rose, and simultaneously made their appearance on deck.
"What is the matter, Wright?"
"Matter! why, look ahead, my dear fellow, and see where we are. Yonder is Sand Island lighthouse, and a little to the right is Fort Morgan. But the fleet to the left is hardly six miles off, and it will be a tight race if I get in."
There was but a glimmering light, rimming the East, where two or three stars burned with indescribable brilliance and beauty, and in the grey haze and wreaths of mist which curled over the white-capped waves, Electra could distinguish nothing. The air was chill, and she said, with a slight shiver—
"I can't see any lighthouse."
"There is, of course, no light there, these war-times; but you see that tall, white tower, don't you? There, look through my glass. That low dark object yonder is the outline of the fort; you will see it more distinctly after a little. Now, look right where my finger points; that is the flag-staff. Look up overhead—I have hoisted our flag, and pretty soon it will be a target for those dogs.
"Ha! Mitchell! Hutchinson! they see us! There is some movement among them. They are getting ready to cut us off this side of the Swash channel! We shall see."
He had crowded on all sail, and the little vessel dashed through the light fog as if conscious of her danger, and resolved to sustain herself gallantly. Day broke fully, sea and sky took the rich orange tint which only autumnmornings give, and in this glow a Federal frigate and sloop slipped from their moorings, and bore down threateningly on the graceful bounding schooner.
"But for the fog, which puzzled me about three o'clock, I should have run by unseen, and they would never have known it till I was safe in Navy cove. We will beat them, though, as it is, by about twenty minutes. An hour ago I was afraid I should have to beach her. Are you getting frightened, Miss Grey?"
"Oh, no! I would not have missed this for any consideration. How rapidly the Federal vessels move! They are gaining on us."
Her curling hair, damp with mist, clustered around her forehead; she had wrapped a scarlet crape shawl about her shoulders, and stood with her red lips apart and trembling, watched the exciting race.
"Look at the frigate!"
There was a flash at her bow, a curl of white smoke rolled up, then a heavy roar, and a thirty-two pounder round shot fell about a hundred yards to the right of the vessel.
A yell of defiance rent the air from the crew of theDixie—hats were waved—and, snatching off her shawl, Electra shook its bright folds to the stiffening breeze, while her hot cheeks matched them in depth of colour.
Another and another shot was fired in quick succession, and so accurate had they become, that the last whizzed through the rigging, cutting one of the small ropes.
"Humph! they are getting saucy," said the captain looking up coolly, when the yells of his crew ceased for a moment; and, with a humorous twinkle in his fine eyes, he added—
"Better go below, Miss Grey; they might clip one of your curls next time. The Vandals see you, I dare say, and your red flag stings their Yankee pride a little."
"Do you suppose they can distinguish me?"
"Certainly. Through my glass I can see the gunners at work, and of course they see you. Should not be surprised if they aimed specially at you. That is the style of New England chivalry."
Whiz—whiz; both sloop and frigate were firing now ingood earnest, and one shell exploded a few yards from the side of the little vessel, tossing the foam and water over the group on deck.
The boom of a columbiad from the fort shook the air like thunder, and gave to the blockaders the unmistakable assurance, "Thus far, and no farther."
The schooner strained on its way; a few shot fell behind, and soon, under the frowning bastions of the fort, whence the Confederate banner floated so proudly on the balmy Gulf breeze, spreading its free folds like an ægis, the gallant little vessel passed up the channel, and came to anchor in Mobile Bay, amid the shouts of crew and garrison, and welcomed by a salute of five guns.
RESULTS OF SECESSION
Immediately after her arrival in Mobile, Electra prepared to forward her despatches by Captain Wright, whose business called him to Richmond before his return to Cuba; and an examination of them proved that the expedient resorted to was perfectly successful. By moistening the edges of the drawing-paper, the tissue missive was drawn out uninjured, and, to Eric's surprise, she removed the carefully-stitched blue silk which lined the tops of her travelling gauntlets, and extracted similar despatches, all of which were at once transmitted to the seat of government. While waiting for a boat, they heard the painful tidings of Major Huntingdon's death, which increased Eric's impatience to reach W——. The remainder of the journey was sad, and four days after leaving the Gulf City the lights of W—— and roar of the Falls simultaneously greeted the spent travellers. Having telegraphed of his safe arrival, the carriage was waiting at the depôt, and Andrew handed to Electra a note from his mistress, requesting her to come at once to her house instead of going to the hotel. Eric added earnest persuasion, and with some reluctance the artist finally consented. They were prepared for the silent, solemn aspect of the house, and forthe mourning dress of the orphan, but not for the profound calm, the melancholy, tearless composure with which she received them. Mental and physical suffering had sadly changed her. The oval face was thinner, and her form had lost its roundness, but the countenance retained its singular loveliness, and the mesmeric splendour of the large eyes seemed enhanced. Of her father she did not speak, but gave her uncle a written statement of all the facts which she had been able to gather concerning the circumstances of his death; and thus a tacit compact was formed; to make no reference to the painful subject.
As she accompanied Electra to the room prepared for her, on the night of her arrival, the latter asked, with ill-concealed emotion—
"Irene, can you tell me anything about Russell? I am very anxious to hear something of him."
Irene placed the silver lamp on the table, and standing in its glow, answered quietly—
"He was wounded in the arm at Manassa, but retains command of his regiment, and is doing very well. Dr. Arnold is the regimental surgeon, and in one of his letters to me he mentioned that your cousin's wound was not serious."
"I am going to him immediately."
"Unfortunately, you will not be allowed to do so. The wounded were removed to Richmond as promptly as possible, but your cousin remained at Manassa, where ladies are not permitted."
"Then I will write to him to meet me in Richmond."
Irene made no reply, and, watching her all the while, Electra asked—
"When did you see him last? How did he look?"
"The day before he started to Richmond. He was very well, I believe, but looked harassed and paler than usual. He is so robust, however, that I think you need entertain no apprehension concerning his health."
The inflexible features, the low, clear, firm voice were puzzling, and Electra's brow thickened and darkened as she thought—
"Her father is dead now; there is no obstacle remaining.She must love him, and yet she gives no sign of interest."
Two days later, they sat together before one of the parlour windows. Electra was engaged in tearing off and rolling bandages, while Irene slowly scraped lint from a quantity of old linen, which filled a basket at her side. Neither had spoken for some time; the sadness of their occupation called up gloomy thoughts; but finally Electra laid down a roll of cloth, and, interlacing her slight fingers, said—
"Irene, the women of the South must exercise an important influence in determining our national destiny; and because I felt this so fully, I hurried home to share the perils, and privations, and trials of my countrywomen. It is not my privilege to enter the army, and wield a sword or musket; but I am going to true womanly work—into the crowded hospitals, to watch faithfully over sick and wounded."
"I approve your plan, think it your duty, and wish that I could start to Richmond with you to-morrow—for I believe that in this way we may save valuable lives. You should, as you have said, go on at once; you have nothing to keep you; your work is waiting for you there. But my position is different; I have many things to arrange here before I can join you. I want to see the looms at work on the plantation; and am going down next week with Uncle Eric, to consult with the overseer about several changes which I desire made concerning the negroes. When all this is accomplished, I too shall come into the hospitals."
"About what time may I expect you?"
"Not until you see me; but at the earliest practicable day."
"Your uncle objects very strenuously to such a plan, does he not?"
"He will acquiesce at the proper time. Take care! you are making your bandages too wide."
"A long dark vista stretches before the Confederacy. I cannot, like many persons, feel sanguine of a speedy termination of the war."
"Yes—a vista lined with the bloody graves of her bestsons; but beyond glimmers Freedom—Independence."
"But do you still cling to a belief in the possibility of Republican forms of Government? This is a question which constantly disquiets me."
"My faith in that possibility is unshaken. We shall yet teach the world that self-government is feasible."
"But in Europe, where the subject is eagerly canvassed, the impression obtains that, in the great fundamental principle of our government, will be found the germ of its dissolution. This war is waged to establish the right of Secession, and the doctrine that 'all just governments rest on the consent of the governed.' With such a precedent, it would be worse than stultification to object to the secession of any State or States now constituting the Confederacy, who at a future day may choose to withdraw from the present compact. Granting our independence, which Europe regards as a foregone conclusion, what assurance have you (say they, gloating, in anticipation over the prospect) that, so soon as the common dangers of war, which for a time cemented you so closely, are over, entire disintegration will not ensue, and all your boasts end in some dozen anarchical pseudo-republics, like those of South America and Mexico?"
"That is an evil which our legislators must guard against by timely provision. We are now, thank God! a thoroughly homogeneous people, with no antagonistic systems of labour necessitating conflicting interests. As States, we are completely identified in commerce and agriculture, and no differences need arise. Purified from all connection with the North, and with no vestige of the mischievous element of New England Puritanism, we can be a prosperous and noble people."
Electra had finished the bandages, and was walking slowly before the windows, and, without looking up from the lint, which she was tying into small packages, Irene said—
"Electra, my friend, are you sure that you realize your personal responsibility? Your profession will give, you vast influence in forming public taste and I hope much from its judicious use. Be careful that you select onlythe highest, purest types to offer to your countrymen and women, when Peace enables us to turn our attention to the great work of building up a noble school of Southern Art. We want no feeble, sickly sentimentality, nor yet the sombre austerity which seems to pervade your mind, judging from the works you have shown me."
A slight quiver crossed the mobile features of the artist as she bit her full lip, and asked—
"What would you pronounce the distinguishing characteristic of my works? I saw, yesterday, that you were not fully satisfied."
"A morbid melancholy, which you seem to have fostered tenderly instead of crushing vigorously. A disposition to dwell upon the stern and gloomy aspects of the physical world, and to intensify and reproduce abnormal and unhappy phases of character. Your breezy, sunshiny, joyous moods you have kept under lock and key while in your studio."
"I admit the truth of your criticism, and I have struggled against the spirit which hovers with clouding wings over all that I do; but the shadow has not lifted—God knows whether it ever will. You have finished your work; come to my room for a few minutes."
They went upstairs together; and as Electra unlocked and bent over a large square trunk, her companion noticed a peculiar curl about the lines of the mouth, and a heavy scowl on the broad brow.
"I want to show you the only bright, shining face I ever painted."
She unwrapped an oval portrait, placed it on the mantelpiece, and, stepping back, fixed her gaze on Irene. She saw a tremor cross the quiet mouth, and for some seconds the sad eyes dwelt upon the picture as if fascinated.
"It must have been a magnificent portrait of your cousin, years ago; but he has changed materially since it was painted. He looks much older, sterner, now."
"Irene, I value this portrait above everything else save the original; and, as I may be called to pass through various perils, I want you to take care of it for me until I come back to W——. It is a precious trust, which I would be willing to leave in no hands but yours."
"You forget that, before long, I, too, shall go to Virginia."
"Then pack it away carefully among your old family pictures, where it will be secure. I left my large and best paintings in Italy, with Aunt Ruth, who promised to preserve and send them to me as soon as the blockade should be raised."
"What are Mr. Young's views concerning this war?"
"He utterly abhors the party who inaugurated it, and the principles upon which it is waged. Says he will not return to America at least for the present; and as soon as he can convert his property into money, intends to move to the South. He opposed and regretted Secession until he saw the spirit of the Lincoln dynasty, and from that time he acknowledged that all hope of Union or reconstruction was lost. Have you heard anything from Harvey since the troubles began?"
"It is more than a year since I received a line from him. He was then still in the West, but made no allusion to the condition of the country."
"Irene, I hope to see Russell soon. You were once dear friends; have you any message for him—any word of kind remembrance?"
One of Irene's hands glided to her side, but she answered composedly—
"He knows that he always has my best wishes; but will expect no message."
On the following day Electra started to Richmond, taking with her a large supply of hospital stores, which the ladies of W—— had contributed.
Eric had proposed to his niece the expediency of selling the Hill, and becoming an inmate of his snug, tasteful, bachelor home; but she firmly refused to consent to this plan: said that she would spend her life in the house of her birth; and it was finally arranged that her uncle should reserve such of the furniture as he valued particularly, and offer the residue for sale, with the pretty cottage, to which he was warmly attached. During the remainder of autumn Irene was constantly engaged in superintending work for the soldiers, in providing for several poor families in whom she was much interested, and in frequent visits to theplantation, where she found more than enough to occupy her mind; and Eric often wondered at the admirable system and punctuality she displayed—at the grave composure with which she discharged her daily duties, and the invariable reticence she observed with regard to her past life.
WOMANLY USEFULNESS
"Did you ring, Mas' Eric?"
"Yes. Has Irene come home?"
"Not yet, sir."
"Bring some more wood."
Owing to the scarcity of coal, the grate had been removed, and massive brass andirons substituted. John piled them with oak wood, swept the hearth, and retired. After a time, the door opened and the mistress came in.
"Irene! you must be nearly frozen. What kept you out so late?"
"I had more than usual to attend to at the Asylum this afternoon."
"What was the matter?"
"We have a new matron, and I was particularly anxious that she should start right in one or two respects. I waited, too, in order to see the children at supper, and satisfy myself about the cooking."
"How many orphans are there in the Asylum?"
"Thirty-four. I admitted two this evening—children of one of our soldiers, who died from a wound received at Leesburg."
"Poor little things! I am afraid you will find numbers of similar instances before this war is at an end."
"We will try to find room for all such cases. The building will accommodate one hundred."
"You must be very cold; I will make John bring you a glass of wine."
"No, sir; I do not need it. My shawl was thick and warm."
"Irene."
She turned her head slightly, and raised her eyes.
"Did you receive a letter which I sent to your room?"
"Yes, sir. It was from Dr. Arnold."
"He has established himself in Richmond."
"Yes, sir; his recent attack of rheumatism unfitted him for service in the field."
"I had a letter from Colonel Aubrey to-day. He wants to buy my house."
She made no comment, and her eyes drooped again to the perusal of the strange shapes which danced and flickered on the burnished andirons.
"What use do you suppose he had for it?"
"I cannot imagine, unless he intends it as a home for Electra."
"What a witch you are at guessing; that is exactly it. He says, in this letter, that he may not survive the war, and wishes to have the assurance that his cousin is comfortably provided for, before he goes into another battle. His offer is liberal, and I shall accept it."
"Well, I am glad she will own it—for I have often heard her speak of those old poplar trees in the front yard. She has always admired the place."
At this juncture the tea-bell summoned them to the dining-room, and she allowed her uncle no opportunity of renewing the conversation. When the meal was concluded, and they had returned to the library, Irene drew her table and basket near the lamp, and resumed her knitting. The invalid frowned, and asked impatiently—
"Can't you buy as many of those coarse things as you want, without toiling night and day?"
"In the first place, I do not toil; knitting is purely mechanical, very easy, and I like it. In the second place, I cannot buy them, and our men need them when they are standing on guard. It is cold work holding a musket in the open air, such weather as this."
He looked annoyed, and dived deeper among his cushions.
"Don't you feel as well as usual this evening, Uncle Eric?"
"Oh! I am well enough—but I hate the everlasting motion of those steel needles."
She rolled up the glove, put it in her basket, and rose.
"Shall I read to you? Or, how would you like a game of chess?"
"I do not expect you to humour my whims. Above all things, my child, I dread the thought of becoming troublesome to you."
"You can never be that, Uncle Eric; and I shall always be glad if you will tell me how I can make your time pass more pleasantly. I know this house must seem gloomy enough at best. Let us try a game of chess; we have not played since you came from Europe."
She brought the board, and they sat down to the most quiet and absorbing of all games. Both played well, and when Eric was finally vanquished, he was surprised to find, from the hands of the clock, that the game had lasted nearly two hours. As she carefully replaced the ivory combatants in their box, Irene said—
"Uncle, you know that I have long desired and intended to go to Richmond, but various circumstances combined to keep me at home. I felt that I had duties here which must first be discharged; now the time has come when I can accomplish my long-cherished plan. Dr. Arnold has taken charge of the hospital in Richmond which was established with the money we sent from W—— for the relief of our regiments. Mrs. Campbell is about to be installed as matron, and I have to-day decided to join them. In his letter received this afternoon he orders me not to come, but I know that he will give me a ward when he finds me at his elbow. I am aware that you have always opposed this project, but I hope, sir, that you will waive your objections, and go on with me next week."
"It is a strange and unreasonable freak, which, I must say, I do not approve of. There are plenty of nurses to be hired, who have more experience, and are every way far more suitable for such positions."
"Uncle, the men in our armies are not hired to fight our battles; and the least the women of the land can do is to nurse them when sick or wounded."
She laid her hand gently on his whitening hair, and added pleadingly—
"Do not oppose me, Uncle Eric.I want your sanction in all that I do. There are only two of us left; go with me as my adviser—protector. I could not be happy if you were not with me."
His eyes filled instantly, and drawing her close to him, he exclaimed tremulously—
"My dear Irene! there is nothing I would not do to make you happy. Happy I fear you never will be. Ah! don't smile and contradict me; I know the difference between happiness and resignation. Patience, uncomplaining endurance, never yet stole the garments of joy. I will go with you to Virginia, or anywhere else that you wish."
"Thank you, Uncle Eric. I will try to make you forget the comforts of home, and give you no reason to regret that you sacrificed your wishes and judgment to mine. I must not keep you up any later."
The army of the Potomac had fallen back to Yorktown when Irene reached Richmond; and the preparations which were being made for the reception of the wounded gave melancholy premonition of impending battles.
Dr. Arnold had been entrusted with the supervision of several hospitals, but gave special attention to one established with the funds contributed by the citizens of W——, and thither Irene repaired on the day of her arrival.
In reply to her inquiries, she was directed to a small room, and found the physician seated at a table examining a bundle of papers. He saw only a form darkening the doorway, and, without looking up, called out gruffly—
"Well, what is it? What do you want?"
"A word of welcome."
He sprang to his feet instantly, holding out both hands.
"Dear child! Queen! God bless you! How are you? Pale as a cloud, and thin as a shadow. Sit down here by me. Where is Eric?"
"He was much fatigued, and I left him at the hotel."
"You have been ill a long time, Irene, and have kept it from me. That was not right; you should have been honest in your letters. A pretty figure you will cut nursingsick folks! Work in my sight, indeed! If you say work to me again, I will clap you into a lunatic asylum and keep you there till the war is over. Turn your face to the light."
"I am well enough in body; it is my mind only that is ill at ease; my heart only that is sick—sorely sick. Here I shall find employment, and, I trust, partial forgetfulness. Put me to work at once; that will be my best medicine."
"And you really missed me, Queen?"
"Yes, inexpressibly; I felt my need of you continually. You must know how I cling to you now."
Again he drew her little hands to his granite mouth, and seemed to muse for a moment.
"Doctor, how is Electra?"
"Very well—that is, as well as such an anomalous, volcanic, torrid character ought to be. At first she puzzled me (and that is an insult I find it hard to forgive), but finally I found the clue. She is indefatigable and astonishingly faithful as a nurse; does all her duty, and more, which is saying a good deal—for I am a hard taskmaster. Aren't you afraid that I will work you more unmercifully than a Yankee factory-child, or a Cornwall miner? See here, Queen; what do you suppose brought Electra to Richmond?"
"A desire to render some service to the sick and suffering, and also to be comparatively near her cousin."
"Precisely; only the last should be first, and the first last. Russell is a perverse, ungrateful dog."
As he expected, she glanced up at him, but refrained from comment.
"Yes, Irene—he is a soulless scamp. Here is his cousin entirely devoted to him, loving him above everything else in this world, and yet he has not even paid her a visit, except in passing through to Yorktown with his command. He might be a happy man if he would but open his eyes and see what is as plain as the nose on my face—which, you must admit, requires no microscope. She is a gifted woman, and would suit him exactly—even better than my salamander, Salome."
A startled, incredulous expression came into Irene'slarge eyes, and gradually a look of keen pain settled on her features.
"Aha! did that idea never occur to you before?"
"Never, sir; and you must be mistaken."
"Why, child? The fact is patent. You women profess to be so quick-witted, too, in such matters—I am amazed at your obtuseness. She idolizes Aubrey."
"It is scarcely strange that she should; she has no other relatives near her, and it is natural that she should love her cousin."
"I tell you I know what I say! she will never love anybody else as she loves Aubrey. Besides, what is it to you whether he marries her or not?"
"I feel attached to her, and want to see her happy."
"As Russell's wife?"
"No, sir. The marriage of cousins was always revolting to me."
She did not flinch from his glittering grey eye, and her grieved look deepened.
"Is she here? Can I see her?"
"She is not in this building, but I will inform her of your arrival. I have become much interested in her. She is a brilliant, erratic creature, and has a soul! which cannot safely be predicated of all the sex nowadays. Where are you going?"
"Back to Uncle Eric. Will you put me in the same hospital with Electra and Mrs. Campbell?"
"I will put you in a strait-jacket! I promise you that."
Electra was agreeably surprised at the unusual warmth with which Irene received her some hours later, but little suspected why the lips lingered in their pressure of hers, or understood the wistful tenderness of the eyes which dwelt so fondly on her face. The icy wall of reserve had suddenly melted, as if in the breath of an August noon, and dripped silently down among things long past. Russell's name was casually mentioned more than once, and Electra fell asleep that night wholly unconscious that the torn and crumpled pages of her heart had been thoroughly perused by the woman from whom she was most anxious to conceal the truth.
Having engaged a suite of rooms near the hospital,a few days sufficed for preliminary arrangements, and Irene was installed in a ward of the building to which she had requested Dr. Arnold to appoint her.
Thus, by different, by devious thorny paths, two sorrowing women emerged upon the broad highway of Duty, and, clasping hands, pressed forward to the divinely appointed goal—Womanly Usefulness.
Only those who have faithfully ministered in a hospital can fully appreciate the onerous nature of the burdens thus assumed—can realize the crushing anxiety, the sleepless apprehension, the ceaseless tension of brain and nerve, the gnawing, intolerable sickness and aching of heart over sufferings which no human skill can assuage; and the silent blistering tears which are shed over corpses of men whose families kneel in far distant homes, praying God's mercy on dear ones lying at that moment stark and cold on hospital cots with strangers' hands about the loved limbs.
Day by day, week after week, those tireless women-watchers walked the painful round from patient to patient, administering food and medicine to diseased bodies, and words of hope and encouragement to souls, who shrank not from the glare and roar and carnage of battle, but shivered and cowered before the daring images which deathless memory called from the peaceful, happy Past. It was not wonderful that the home-sick sufferers regarded them with emotions which trenched on adoration, or that often, when the pale thin faces lighted with a smile of joy at their approach, Irene and Electra felt that they had a priceless reward.
IN THE HOSPITAL
It was a long, low, rather narrow room, lined with rows of cots, which stretched on either side to the door, now left open to admit free circulation of air. A muffled clockticked on the mantelpiece. Two soldiers, who had been permitted to visit their sick comrades, slumbered heavily, one with head drooped on his chest, the other with chair tilted against the window-facing, and dark-bearded face thrown back. The quivering flame of the candle gleamed fitfully along the line of features—some youthful, almost childish; others bearing the impress of accumulated years; some crimsoned with fever, others wan and glistening with the dew of exhaustion; here a forehead bent and lowering, as in fancy the sleeper lived over the clash and shock of battle; and there a tremulous smile, lighting the stern manly mouth, as the dreamer heard again the welcome bay of watchdog on the doorstep at home, and saw once more the loved forms of wife and children springing joyfully from the cheery fireside to meet his outstretched arms. A few tossed restlessly, and frequent incoherent mutterings wandered, waif-like up and down the room, sometimes rousing Andrew, who once or twice lifted his head to listen, and then sank back to slumber.
Before a small pine table, where stood numerous vials, Irene drew her chair, and, leaning forward, opened her pocket-Bible, and rested her head on her hand.
A wounded boy started up, twirling one arm, as if in the act of cheering, and then fell back, groaning with pain which the violent effort cost him.
Irene stooped over him, and softly unbuttoning his shirt-collar, removed the hot, bloody cloths from his lacerated shoulder, and replaced them with fresh folds of linen, cold and dripping. She poured out a glass of water, and lifted his head, but he frowned, and exclaimed—
"I won't have it in a tumbler. Mother, make Harry bring me a gourdful fresh from the spring. I say, send Buddie for some."
She humoured the whim, walked out of the room, and paused in the passage. As she did so, a dark form glided unperceived into a dim corner, and when she re-entered the room with the gourd of water the figure passed through the hall-door out into the night.
"Here is your gourd, Willie, fresh and cold."
He swallowed the draught eagerly, and his handsomeface wore a touching expression as he smiled and whispered—
"Hush! Jessie is singing under the old magnolia down by the spring. Listen! 'Fairy Belle!' We used to sing that in camp; but nobody sings like Jessie. So sweet! so sweet!"
He set his teeth hard and shuddered violently, and taking his fingers in hers she found them clenched.
"Andrew!"
"Here I am, Miss Irene."
"Go upstairs and ask the doctor to come here."
The surgeon came promptly.
"I am afraid he is going into convulsions. What shall I do for him?"
"Yes; just what I have been trying to guard against. I fear nothing will do any good; but you might try that mixture which acted like a charm on Leavans."
"Here is the bottle. How much shall I give?"
"A spoonful every half-hour while the convulsions last, if he can swallow it; it can't possibly do any harm, and may ease his suffering. Poor fellow! may the vengeance of a righteous God seek out his murderer! I would stay here with you, Miss Huntingdon, if I could render any service. As it is, I am more needed upstairs."
The paroxysms were short, but so severe that occasionally she required Andrew's assistance to hold the sufferer on his cot, and as they grew less frequent, she saw that his strength failed rapidly. Finally he fell into a troubled sleep, with one hand clutching her arm.
Nearly an hour passed thus, and the nurse knelt softly beside her charge, and prayed long and fervently that the soul of the young martyr might find its home with God, and that his far-off mourning mother might be strengthened to bear this heavy burden of woe.
As she knelt with her face upturned, a soft, warm palm was laid upon her forehead, and a low, sweet, manly voice pronounced in benediction—
"May the Lord bless you, Irene, and abundantly answer all your prayers."
She rose quickly, and put out her disengaged hand.
"Oh, Harvey, dear friend!Thank God, I have found you once more."
He lifted the candle and held it near her face, scanning the sculptured features, then stooped and kissed her white cheek.
"I felt that I could not be mistaken. I heard our soldiers blessing a pale woman in black, with large eyes bluer than summer skies, and hair that shone like rays of a setting sun; and I knew the silent, gentle, tireless watcher, before they told me her name. For many years I have prayed that you might become an instrument of good to your fellow-creatures, and to-night I rejoice to find you, at last, an earnest co-worker."
"Where have you been this long time, Harvey? And how is it that you wear a Confederate uniform?"
"I am chaplain in a Texas regiment, and have been with the army from the beginning of these days of blood. At first it was a painful step for me; my affections, my associations, the hallowed reminiscences of my boyhood, all linked my heart with New York. My relatives and friends were there, and I knew not how many of them I might meet among the war-wolves that hung in hungry herds along the borders of the South. Moreover, I loved and revered the Union—had been taught to regard it as the synonym of national prosperity. Secession I opposed and regretted at the time as unwise; but to the dogma of consolidated government I could yield no obedience; and when every sacred constitutional barrier had been swept away by Lincoln—when thehabeas corpuswas abolished, and freedom of speech and press denied—when the Washington conclave essayed to coerce freemen, to 'crush Secession' through the agency of the sword and cannon—then I swore allegiance to the 'Seven States' where all of republican liberty remained. Henceforth my home is with the South; my hopes and destiny hers; her sorrows and struggles mine."
His white, scholarly hands were sunburnt now; his bronzed complexion, and long, untrimmed hair and beard gave a grim, grizzled aspect to the noble face; and the worn and faded uniform showed an acquaintance withthe positive hardships and exposure of an active campaign.
"I expected nothing less from you, my brother. You were dear to me before; but, ah, Harvey! how much dearer now in these dark days of trial, which you have voluntarily chosen to share, with a young, brave, struggling Nation!"
His eyes dwelt upon her face as she looked gladly at him, and over her waving hair his hands passed tenderly, as they had done long years before, when she was an invalid in his father's house.
"You have found your work, and learned contentment in usefulness. Irene, the peaceful look of your childhood has come back to your face. With my face pressed against the window-pane, I have been watching you for more than an hour—ever since Colonel Aubrey came out—and I know all the sadness of the circumstances that surround you; how painful it is for you to see those men die."
"Colonel Aubrey? He has not been here."
"Yes; I passed him on the steps; we rode up together from camp. He came on special business, and returns at daylight; but I shall remain several days, and hope to be with you as much as the nature of your engagements will permit. Aubrey is from W——; you know him, of course?"
"Yes, I know him."
He saw a shade of regret drift over her countenance, and added—
"I have many things to say to you, and much to learn concerning your past; but this is not the time or place for such interchange of thought and feeling. To-morrow we will talk; to-night I could not repress my impatience to see you, though but for a few moments."
She drew a chair near young Walton, the wounded boy, and seating herself, continued—
"When independence is obtained, and white-robed Peace spreads her stainless hands in blessing over us, let history proclaim, and let our people reverently remember, that to the uncomplaining fortitude and sublime devotion of the private soldiers of the Confederacy, not less than to the genius of our generals and the heroism of our subordinate officers, we are indebted for Freedom."
She laid her head close to the boy's mouth to listen tohis low breathing, and the minister saw her tears fall on his pillow and gleam on his auburn locks. The delirium seemed to have given place to the dreamless sleep of exhaustion, and folding one of her hands around his fingers, with the other she softly stroked the silky hair from his fair, smooth forehead.
"Irene, will my presence here aid or comfort you? If so I will remain till morning."
"No; you can do no good. It is midnight now, and you must be wearied with your long ride. You cannot help me here, but to-morrow I shall want you to go with me to the cemetery. I wish his family to have the sad consolation of knowing that a minister knelt at his grave, when we laid the young patriot in his last resting-place. Good-bye, my brother, till then. Electra is in the next room; will you go in and speak to her?"
"No; I will see her early in the morning."
He left her to keep alone her solemn vigil; and through the remaining hours of that starry June night she stirred not from the narrow cot—kept her fingers on the sufferer's fleeting pulse, her eyes on his whitening face. About three o'clock he moaned, struggled slightly, and looked intently at her. She gave him some brandy, and found that he swallowed with great difficulty.
Slowly a half-hour rolled away; Irene could barely feel the faint pulsation at Willie Walton's wrist, and as she put her ear to his lips, a long, last shuddering sigh escaped him—the battle of life was ended. Willie's Relief had come. The young sentinel passed to his Eternal Rest.