CHAPTER XI.
IN THE RED CROSS SERVICE.
In this age of the world, distance is no object, and Octavia was soon in the bosom of her family, and would follow that career, which God in His Providence would work out for her.
Simon and Elsie were proud of Octavia, as they had a right to be. She had just graduated with highest honors from one of the foremost Northern seminaries, and had brought home a lot of prizes, some of them valuable.
She was beautiful and didn't know it; accomplished, without ostentation; and was modest, gentle, courteous and dignified.
Brutus, who was still in Simon's employ as servant, and kept in a servant's place, frequently said, that if he didn't know to the contrary, he would say that Octavia, "wuz a sho' nuff white 'oman."
Of course she had to tell her uncle and mother about the lawyers fighting a duel about her; of one getting killed, and the other wounded; and she the innocent cause. Simon consoled her with the fact that she was at home now, and could seclude herself, if she so desired, and not be molested by men. She said she could not live the life of a hermit, regardless of what the men thought of her.
They then told her of the diamond ring occurrence, and that they had purposely kept it from her while at school, and determined to await her return, when they could explain the matter better, orally.
Not long after her return, she was in Simon's store, and Elsie's attorney happened to come in. Simon, in an humble, courteous way introduced his niece to the attorney, as "Octavia," who had just graduated with distinguished honors, from the foremost seminary in the North. Both acknowledged the introduction with a bow, after which, Octavia left the store, and the attorney, after making some purchases, doing the same. That was a brief meeting, but Cupid had put in his work. The attorney on his way home determined, if he could, to know more of this lovely being. It must be said here, that the attorney had heard of her beauty and accomplishments, and of her lowly birth, and having one-eighth African blood coursing through her veins. The next day he was in Simon's store again, and remarked that he would like to hear his niece play and sing, and to examine her art collection. Simon said he would be pleased to have him do so, and thought that his niece would make no objection. He said he would be around after tea to enjoy this pleasure. Will wonders never cease? Here was one of the leading attorneys of the city, and purest of the pure Caucasians, becoming smitten with an octoroon. Simon then reminded him of the social barriers that existed and of the effect it might have on his practice, and on him socially. He left the store, remarking "Society be d——." At supper, Simon told his niece that the attorney would be there to hear her play and sing, and to inspect her art collection. She said that it must not be a social call. Simon went back to his store, thinking a lot, but saying nothing. He had been in public business so long, that he could read human character almost like a book. He was satisfied in his mind that Elsie's attorney had succumbed to Octavia's charms, and he would await developments with anxiety.
This attorney was young and handsome and already had gained a lucrative practice at the bar, and was still adding fame to his laurels. Notwithstanding her short acquaintance, Octavia confessed secretly that she was favorably impressed with him, but at the same time, she knew that social barriers would prevent his paying her and she receiving his attentions.
At the appointed time, he was ringing the bell for admittance, which was answered by Elsie, who invited him into the parlor.
Octavia soon came in, when he told her that he had come to have the pleasure of hearing her play and sing, and to inspect her art collection. She gave him a cordial greeting, saying that he flattered her, but, that if she had any talent for music and art, he was welcome to witness and hear the same. He expressed himself as delighted with her paintings; and then requested her to play and sing. She rendered her graduating recital in music, on the piano. He thought it grand and magnificent, and requested her to sing, which she did, using the organ first, and then, guitar, as an accompaniment.
He was charmed, and said that he had never heard her equal. That her voice was sweet, but not inaudible; melodious, but not husky; loud, but not boisterous; clear and harmonious; and that but few prima donnas, who were delighting thousands, by their voices on the stage, came up to her standard of singing.
On leaving, he asked the pleasure of again calling, that he had often heard of her, but had not had the pleasure of meeting her until their brief introduction the day before at her uncle's store—but, that now, he had come, seen and heard, and was conquered.
He said that like the "Queen of Sheba," he could also say, that "the half had not been told." She politely replied that the proprieties of Southern social life would not permit a social call from him on her, but that if it was any pleasure, he might come and hear her play and sing, and to inspect her paintings—he might do so, but not in a social way. He thanked her, and left, and on his way home, hurled anathemas against social laws, so far as they separated him and Octavia. Of course, he knew it would not do for the races to intermingle and commingle, indiscriminately. But Octavia was so near pure white, that it amounted to "a distinction without a difference." That he was passionately in love with Octavia there was no doubt. What must he do? What would the effect of these visits, if known, have on his practice?
He was not wholly indifferent to public opinion, and while he knew what the opinion would be, he was determined to hear Octavia play and sing, let the consequences be what they may.
The attorney was not the only Caucasian who had succumbed to Octavia's charms. A wealthy real estate agent, and president of the local bank, was in the same predicament. He had repeatedly sought an introduction, but had never been able to reach the goal of his desires.
The attorney saw Simon, and asked him to say to his niece that he would come at 8 P.M., to hear some more of her singing. Simon did so. Whereat, she was pleased as well as sad. She cared more for the attorney than she was willing to admit. At the same time she knew that it was wrong, socially, for a white man to be making visits to her uncle's house. The public might think that his visits were purely on business, as he had been her mother's successful attorney. But, if they continued, their object would soon be found out. "You may fool all the people awhile, but you can't fool some of the people all the while." When the attorney came, she had on her "best bib and tucker," and never looked lovelier. Whether she wanted to make an additional impression, or not, on the attorney, the fact is she did. He came, saw and heard again, and was charmed and chained to the spot by her loveliness. He had often heard of Eden—he had found it. He did not see how there could be a more attractive paradise elsewhere. If allowed, he would remain—he was not like Mahomet, who, it is said, after a long hot day's journey over the desert sands, came in sight (just as the sun, as it were, was going down into the Mediterranean) of Damascus, surrounded by a desert and situated on those beautiful rivers, Pharpar and Abana,—Damascus, in which were bubbling fountains, gardens of olives, dates, figs, oranges and all manner of tropical fruits; streets shaded by royal palms, dotted here and there, with magnificent mosques with their lofty minarets, and lovely dwellings. This, after his weary, hot day's journey, was a charming sight, an enchanting spectacle; how he longed to slake his thirst from those bubbling springs, and bathe in those cool fountains, and then rest under those royal palms, or appease his hunger, by eating of those tropical fruits. He was tempted to enter, but after gazing longingly, he said, "it was ordained for man to enter paradise but once," and turned around and retraced his journey. With the attorney, it was different; he had entered this paradise, and knew he had to leave, but how? He arose to do so, and before he was aware of it, he was on his knees before the fair Octavia. He declared his love with all the fervor and ardor of a Castilian, and asked her heart and hand in marriage. He had successfully pleaded the case of her mother, on a false charge; might he not be as successful in pleading his case before her, who was judge, counsel and jury?—his charge was true, that he loved her, adored her, worshipped her. She listened patiently until he finished, and then bade him rise and be seated. Like a chained captive, he obeyed. She then in a cool, quiet, dignified manner told him that she entertained feelings for him that she did not for any other man, and which she supposed writers of romance would call love, but that he knew and she knew that there was a social chasm between them, that could not be bridged—that both knew that the laws of the State were very stringent against the races intermarrying, and that it was wrong for him to propose, or for her to accept. Being a lawyer, he pleaded that it might be a legal wrong, but that there was no moral wrong, and to get around this legal objection, they could soon go to a State that had no laws on the subject. She then told him of her humble birth—that of a slave—and of her life afterwards. He replied that he knew all, but that that did not have a feather's weight with him—that it was not birth, wealth or environment that made noble men or women; but that it was true worth and merit, modesty, beauty, accomplishments, gentleness and dignity, all of which she possessed to a most marked degree. She replied that she was created under the present environments and whether it was fortunate or unfortunate for her, she must submit to it, and that it would be wrong to question the wisdom or unwisdom as to how she was brought into existence. She then told the attorney that her future career would be one of mercy; that she thought it her duty to ameliorate as far as possible, the sufferings of mankind, and that she had decided before graduation, the Lord permitting, to join the Red Cross Society, and asked to be sent to Europe, for a position with the Russian Army, that was then waging war against Turkey. She hated to leave home—her mother, uncle—and as to friends, she had none.
The attorney protested that he was her friend, lover, and would be her husband, whenever she said the word. She insisted that it would be better for them to part; but, that when in a foreign land, she would if it afforded any pleasure, carry on a friendly correspondence with him. He thanked her, telling her that that would be one grain of comfort; but begged her to reconsider, and not bury herself, as it were, in nursing those despicable Cossacks and Turks.
She said her decision was unalterable. With this, he took his leave, fearing she might never return. He consoled himself with the thought that she loved him, and if she ever returned, he would still have hopes of winning her. "Hope springs eternal in the human breast." Once get a woman to love a man, and all obstacles will as a rule be overcome.
CHAPTER XII.
IN FOREIGN LANDS—STRATEGY—LOVE CONQUERS.
Octavia made known to her uncle and mother the attorney's passionate proposal and pleading—of her previous determination to go on a mission of mercy, joining the Red Cross Society. Both pleaded with her to give up her European trip, whatever she did with the attorney. But secretly they wanted Octavia to accept him. Both liked him. A firm friendship had been formed. He had successfully pleaded Elsie's case, and would be pleased to see the match. But Octavia was of age, and marrying was a personal matter, and every one must choose for herself.
She was firm in her decision to go, and they soon saw that further pleading was of no use. It was only a question of short time to make the necessary arrangements for her departure. Just before her departure Colonel R. died. Just previous to his sickness and death, he wrote Simon to come to see him, as he wanted to confer with him on some important business. Simon went, and the Colonel said to him, that he did not think he had long to live, and that in his will, he would bequeath Octavia fifty thousand dollars in gold, and for him, Simon, to act as her agent and trustee, until Octavia chose to make use of it. Simon was grateful on behalf of his niece for this liberal bequest. Colonel R. said that this would be the crowning act of atonement for his wrong in bringing Octavia into the world. He said he had sought forgiveness for this act, and that he felt that God, for Christ's sake, had pardoned him; not only for this, but other wrongs. He said to Simon that he had heard of Octavia's brilliant success in college, of the plaudits of her teachers, press and public. If Octavia, said he, went to Europe, it would be simply to get rid of her suitors; that hers was an anomalous condition. She would not wed beneath herself, and the laws of the country forbid her marrying a white man. He would now bid farewell to his ex-foreman, for the last time, wishing him unbounded success in life.
Colonel R.'s heirs contested the will, or that part bequeathing the gold to Octavia, and made strenuous efforts to have the courts set it aside. Simon again employed Elsie's ex-attorney to defend that clause in the will. There was a fierce legal battle, but the will as a whole was sustained, and Octavia was left independent.
Octavia now departed on her mission of mercy, Simon and Elsie believing that they would never see her again. She was bidding farewell to home, kindred,—to all that she held most dear. "Yes, my native land, I leave thee, far in foreign lands to dwell." After arriving in New York, she soon obtained passports for St. Petersburg, Russia, taking the first steamer, and ere long, would be
"Out on the ocean, all boundless we ride."
After arriving in St. Petersburg, she made known her mission to the authorities, who appointed a guard to escort her to the Russian Army, and she was soon administering comfort to the sick and wounded. She really proved to be an angel of mercy, as her beauty alone often brought hope to the despairing one.
About two months after she began work as an agent of the Red Cross, she received a telegram that her mother had died from smallpox. It is trouble enough to lose a parent and be at her bedside, but to be in a foreign land, with an army which is fighting another, with not a single friend or acquaintance to comfort you, is heart-rending. This was the severest grief of her life. But, being engrossed by her duties, her grief was tempered. It is said that "duty is the sublimest word in the English language." Certainly, it is the best cure for trouble, grief, disappointments, or any of the ills of life.
Soon after this, she received a long letter of condolence from her attorney lover, on the death of her mother. This was quite a comfort, and she redoubled her efforts to comfort the sick, wounded, distressed, dying soldiers around her. While engaged in her mission of mercy, she became acquainted with Count ——, a gallant colonel in the Russian Army. This count, like the American attorney, fell desperately in love with her, and made it known the first opportunity, asking her hand in marriage as soon as hostilities ceased. She repelled his offer, telling him that among the sick, dead and dying, was no place to be thinking about anything of that kind. The count took his defeat philosophically, saying to his friends that he would bide his time and renew his suit for the fair American angel of mercy, in "the sweet by-and-by."
Octavia found time to correspond with her uncle, and her attorney lover, telling each how she had become fond of her work, and that it was not as objectionable as one would think.
The war finally closed, and Octavia determined to return to America, and render comfort to the soldiers who were then fighting the Indians on the plains. She had caught a severe cold, while discharging her duties at the front, which resulted in pneumonia, and for days her physician despaired of her life. Finally, he announced that the crisis had passed, and that good nursing would soon bring her round all right, and wired this welcome news to Simon. It required a month or more to recuperate and gain strength. In that time, she saw from the American papers, that the Indian war had ceased. Consequently, she decided to remain in the Russian capital, whither she had gone after hostilities, a year or more. She had found trouble in rightly discharging her duties, because of her inability to speak the Russian language. Consequently, she determined to master that, and a half dozen or more of the principal languages of Europe, during her stay in St. Petersburg. The signs of the times pointed to another European war, and she would stand in need of one or more of the languages she was studying.
Count —— again renewed his suit with the fair Octavia, promising her title, wealth, ease and pleasure, and as he was closely related to the reigning family, she would have access to the pleasures of the Royal Court of Russia. To all of his pleadings she would say nay, telling him that she did not come to Europe hunting a husband with a title, and that she was disgusted with the snobbery displayed by some American girls in hunting for a husband with a title to his name. She said she was a plain girl from Republo-Democratic America, and came to render succor, aid and comfort to the sick, distressed, dead, wounded and dying, of the Russian Army, and that her mission to that particular field being ended, she was studying the various foreign languages, while waiting for another opportunity to continue her mission of mercy. This reply was characteristic of her. It is a fact that many American girls, disgust the public in their chase after titled husbands—they furnishing the wealth, and the husband, the empty title. Away with such snobbishness! Simon kept her supplied with what funds she needed; she was popular in society and being so exceptionally beautiful and accomplished, she had from time to time a number of suitors, to all of whom she would reply as she did to the Russian count. Besides, she would be violating the trust imposed in her, and as long as she remained an agent of the Red Cross, she would wed no man. The American Ambassador to the Russian Court had heard of Octavia's beauty and accomplishments, and of her refusing the Russian Count, and a number of other desirable suitors. He said to his wife, that they must seek the acquaintance of this wonderful American woman. They went to her hotel, sent in their card, and received a cordial greeting. Octavia said she was delighted to see any one from America, and especially the Ambassador and wife. They promised to call frequently, and that they would do all in their power to make her visit as pleasant as possible during her stay in the city. In Russia's gay capital, she had all that "wealth or beauty e'er gave," but there was a longing, which none of this would satisfy. She often thought of her home in America—of her dear uncle, of—yes, of her lover lawyer. Do what she may, she could not efface him from her memory. She resolved to return, and await an opportunity for service from the Red Cross. On the return voyage, her vessel was wrecked in a storm, half of the passengers perishing, she being among the saved, all of whom were carried to the nearest port, from whence they were forwarded to New York. She went out and spent a few days with Miss Mildred, who approved of her mission of mercy. She parted with her former governess with many regrets, and was soon caressing her uncle, in "Dixie's land." This was a joyful as well as sad meeting. Her mother had died during her absence, and there was a vacant chair which could never be filled. It took quite awhile to relate her experiences in Europe, of her refusal to be Countess ——, with wealth, ease, and all the pleasures of the Royal Court.
Simon told her that he was prouder of her now, than ever.
As was to be expected, her lover soon called, and while his correspondence with her in Europe was only of a friendly character, he had not despaired of making her his wife, if she ever returned. He renewed his suit with more fervor than ever, but to all his entreaties she would kindly but sadly say that were her environments or circumstances different, she would bestow her hand where her heart was already. His visits clandestinely made, were frequent. During her absence in Europe, he had been elected State's Attorney, a responsible and lucrative office, in which he had better opportunities to add to his already well earned fame.
After her return, she decided to write up her experiences in Europe minus the proposals, and publish them in one of the leading Northern journals. This, her first attempt at writing for the press, elicited favorable comment.
One day, while reading one of the latest novels, a messenger, nearly out of breath, came running in with the sad news that her uncle was dead. She hastened to the store, to find it too true. Her grief knew no bounds. The physician who had been called pronounced his trouble, apoplexy. She loved her uncle as she did her mother. Simon had gained the confidence of all classes, and had built up a large lucrative business. He was upright and honorable; just and fair in his dealings, and his death was a public loss. There was a large funeral procession, both white and black attending almosten masse.
In his will, Simon left everything to Octavia, making his book-keeper executor, without bond. Octavia requested him to immediately settle up the estate, turning all of Simon's property into money, which he easily did.
She also requested him to purchase two magnificent monuments for her mother's and uncle's grave.
Her lover continued his visits, offering what comfort he could to Octavia. Of course propriety forbade him mentioning matrimony. Octavia was indeed lonely now. Not a relative in the world that she knew of. How desolate! It is true, that troubles never come singly; as the day after her uncle's burial, she saw in the newspapers, notice of the death and burial of her former governess, Miss Mildred. In her loneliness, she would weep for hours at a time. But time heals all things, and in a few months, her grief was somewhat assuaged. She made up her mind to go North to live. At his next visit, she told the attorney of her intention. He then brought up the "tender subject," again, and made the plea of his life, telling her that she was alone in the world, and had no ties to bind her here, and to be happy the balance of his life, he would give up his office, his practice, and sever every tie that bound him here, and go with her anywhere on the globe, if, by so doing, he could make her his wife. She burst into tears because of her loneliness; tears, because of the barrier between them; and said that it would be best for them not to marry and that he would soon forget her, after her departure. He went away sorrowfully, resolving to resort to strategy. The next day, the city dailies contained the startling information, that State's Attorney ——, had resigned his office, wound up his affairs and would leave in a few days to make his home in one of the South American Republics. After seeing this, Octavia threw herself on her couch, and wept bitter, bitter tears. There is this difference in men and women when in trouble: the former, frequently resort to drink, while the latter resort to tears.
The attorney's masterpiece of strategy was successful.
Brutus, who was still doing the chores on the place, came in while Octavia was crying and said, "Miss Octay, what de matter?" she replied: "Nothing of consequence." He left, and she immediately recalled him and told him to come back in five or ten minutes, and take a note to State's Attorney ——. He left, saying, "Yes, miss." Brutus was soon back, when she sent the following note to the State's Attorney:
"Dear Mr. ——: I am miserable, oh, so miserable; please come to me at once! Octavia."
It is needless to say, he went, and was exulting over his successful strategy as he rang for admittance. She was waiting, and as he entered, she ran into his arms, saying: "Take me anywhere. I'll be your wife, regardless of all social laws."
To say there was a happy couple goes without saying.
In two days both left, the lawyer ostensibly for South America, and Octavia for New York City. Both, however, drew their money from the bank, and bought New York exchange.
They were quietly married in the metropolis of America. After marriage he laughingly told Octavia of the deception he had practiced upon her—that the notice in the city papers of his intended departure for South America was only a ruse to bring her to terms; that he had made no resignation, at that time, of his office, and that the notice was paid for as an advertisement. He said it was a two-edged sword, cutting both ways; at first, deceiving her, and then, the public, but with this difference: She was undeceived, while the public still thought he was by this time in the wilds of South America.
She embraced him, and amid a perfect shower of kisses, said: "Let the public think as they please, the fact remains that you are my own dear husband, whom I love better than life itself, and I am glad, oh, so glad, that you took that means to bring me to terms. If you had not, I might have refused you from time to time, on account of the fraction of African blood that circulates in my veins, and you might, through spite, have married some woman that you did not love."
He admitted that there was much philosophy in what she had said, and, if she hadn't married him, that he might now have been in the Alabama River. He said that he didn't wonder at those Northern men killing themselves, and one another, about her.
Then saying, "My dear wife, let's dismiss all of those unpleasant things of the past, and talk about the future. Where shall we 'drive down stakes?'"
She said she would leave all that with him. While both of their means, put together, would make a fortune, and judiciously invested, would provide for them, the balance of their days, she was sure that a man of his caliber would want an active life, and would go where he could find it.
"Thank you," said he; "and that means one of the mining States of the West, which is comparatively new."
And there they went, and he prospered as he never did before. He located in the capital of the State, and soon was doing a good law practice.
Octavia became the center of attraction for a large coterie of friends, and if her husband had been of a jealous disposition, he might have shown it.
He was successively elected alderman, mayor of the city, representative and senator, in the State legislature, attorney-general and governor. In after years, when several children had blessed their union, they often spoke of their home in "Dixie's land;" of Octavia's many hairbreadth escapes; of the Northern tragedies on her account; of the many suitors who had received their mittens from her; of her Red Cross life; and last, but not least, of his successful strategy in bringing her to terms. Octavia admitted, shortly after marriage, that she deliberately ran off to Europe, knowing that if she remained, she would have to "marry him, to get rid of him."
They are now planning a visit to the old original home of Octavia, the Octoroon.
THE END.