THE BRAVE BID GOOD-BYE TO THE FAIR.
Another circumstance disgusted Colonel Carter even more than the affair
of the majority. He received a communication from the War Department
assigning his regiment to the New England Division, and directing him to
report for orders to Major-General Benjamin F. Butler. Over this paper
he fired off such a volley of oaths as if Uncle Toby's celebrated army
in Flanders had fallen in for practice in battalion swearing.
"A civilian! a lawyer, a political wire-puller! a militiaman!" exclaimed
the high-born southern gentleman, West Point graduate and ex-officer of
the regular army. "What does such a fellow know about the organization
or the command of troops! I don't believe he could make out the property
returns of a company, or take a platoon of skirmishers into action. And
I must report to him, instead of he to me!"
Let us suppose that some inconceivably great power had suddenly created
the Colonel a first-class lawyer, and ordered the celebrated
Massachusetts advocate to act under him as junior counsel. We may
conjecture that the latter might have been made somewhat indignant by
such an arrangement.
"I'll make official application to be transferred to some other
command," continued Carter, thinking to himself. "If that won't answer,
I'll go to the Secretary myself about it, irregular as personal
application may be. And if that won't answer, I'll be so long in getting
ready for the field, that our Major-General Pettifogger will probably go
without me."
If Carter attempted to carry out any of these plans, he no doubt
discovered that the civilian General was greater than the West Point
Colonel in the eyes of the authorities at Washington. But it is probable
that old habits of soldierly obedience prevented him from offering much
if any resistance to the will of the War Department, just as it
prevented him from expressing his dissatisfaction in the presence of any
of his subordinate officers. It is true that the Tenth was an
unconscionable long time in getting ready for the field, but that was
owing to the decay of the enlisting spirit in Barataria, and Carter
seemed to be as much fretted by the lack of men as any body. Meantime
not even Colburne, the officer to whom he unbosomed himself the most
freely, overheard a syllable from him in disparagement of General
Butler.
During the leisurely organization and drilling of his regiment the
Colonel saw Miss Ravenel often enough to fall desperately in love with
her, had he been so minded. He was not so minded; he liked to talk with
pretty young ladies, to flirt with them and to tease them; but he did
not easily take sentiment _au grand sérieux_. Self-conceit and a certain
hard-hearted indifference to the feelings of others, combined with, a
love of fun, made him a habitual quiz. He acknowledged the charm of
Lillie's outlines and manner, but he treated her like a child whom he
could pet and banter at his pleasure. She, on the other hand, was a
little too much afraid of him to quiz in return; she could not treat
this mature and seemingly worldly-wise man with the playful impertinence
which sometimes marked her manner towards Colburne.
"Miss Ravenel, have you any messages for New Orleans?" said the Colonel.
"I begin to think that we shall go just there. It will be such a rich
pocket for General Butler's fingers."
In speaking to civilians Carter was not always so careful of the
character of his superiors as in talking to his subordinate officers.
"Just think of the twelve millions of gold in the banks," he proceeded,
"and the sugar and cotton too, and the wholesale nigger-stealing that we
can do to varnish over our robberies. It grieves me to death to think
that the Tenth will soon be street-firing up and down New Orleans. We
shall make such an awful slaughter among your crowds of old admirers!"
"I hope you won't kill them all."
"Oh, I shan't kill them all. I am not going to commit suicide," said the
Colonel with a flippant gallantry which made the young lady color with a
suspicion that she was not profoundly appreciated.
"Do you really think that you are going to New Orleans?" she presently
inquired.
"Ah! Don't ask me. You have a right to command me; but don't, I beg of
you, order me to tell state secrets."
"Then why do you introduce the subject?" she replied, more annoyed by
his manner than by what he said.
"Because the subject has irresistible charms; because it is connected
with your past, and perhaps with your future."
Now if Carter had looked in the least as he spoke, I fear that Miss
Lillie would have been flattered and gratified. But he did not; he had a
quizzing smile on his audacious face; he seemed to be talking to her as
he would to a child of fourteen. Being a woman of eighteen, and
sensitive, she was not pleased by his confident familiarity, and in her
inexperience she showed her annoyance perhaps a little more plainly than
was quite dignified. After watching her for a moment or two with his
wide-open, unwinking eyes, he suddenly changed his tone, and addressed
her with an air of entirely satisfactory respect. The truth is that he
could not help being at times semi-impertinent to young ladies; but then
he had delicacy of breeding enough to know when he was so; he did not
quiz them in mere boorish stupidity.
"I should be truly delighted," he said, "I should consider it one of the
greatest honors possible to me--if I could do something towards opening
your way back to your own home."
"Oh! I wish you could," she replied with enthusiasm. "I do so want to
get back to Louisiana. But I don't want the South whipped. I want
peace."
"Do you? That is a bad wish for me," observed Carter, with his
characteristic frankness, coolly wondering to himself how he would be
able to live without his colonelcy. As to how he could pay the thousand
or two which he owed to tailors, shoemakers, restaurateurs and wine
merchants, that was never to him a matter of marvel or of anxiety, or
even of consideration.
In obedience to a curious instinct which exists in at least some
feminine natures, Miss Ravenel liked the Colonel, or at least felt that
she could like him, just in proportion as she feared him. A man who can
make some women tremble, can, if he chooses, make them love. Pure and
modest as this girl of eighteen was, she could, and I fear, would have
fallen desperately in love with this toughened worldling, had he, with
his despotic temperament, resolutely willed it. In justice to her it
must be remembered that she knew little or nothing about his various
naughty ways. In her presence he never swore, nor got the worse for
liquor, nor alluded to scenes of dissipation. At church he decorously
put down his head while one could count twenty, and made the responses
with a politeness meant to be complimentary to the parties addressed.
Her father hinted; but she thought him unreasonably prejudiced; she made
what she considered the proper allowance for men who wore uniforms. She
had very little idea of the stupendous discount which would have to be
admitted before Colonel Carter could figure up as an angel of light, or
even as a decently virtuous member of human society. She thought she
stated the whole subject fairly when she admitted that he might be
"fast;" but she had an innocently inadequate conception of the meaning
which the masculine sex attaches to that epithet. She applied it to him
chiefly because he had the monumental self-possession, the graceful
audacity, the free and easy fluency, the little ways, the general air,
of certain men in New Orleans who had been pointed out to her as "fast,"
and concerning whom there were dubious whisperings among elderly
dowagers, but of whom she actually knew little more than that they had
good manners and were favorites with most ladies. She had learned to
consider the type a satisfactory one, without at all appreciating its
moral signification. That Colonel Carter had been downright wicked and
was still capable of being so under a moderate pressure of temptation,
she did not believe with any realizing and saving faith. Balzac says
that very corrupt people are generally very agreeable; and it may be
that this extraordinary fact is capable of a simple and sufficient
explanation. They are scared and do not take things seriously; they do
not contradict you on this propriety and that belief, because they care
nothing about proprieties and beliefs; they love nothing, hate nothing,
and are as easy to wear as old slippers. The strict moralist and
pietest, on the other hand, is as hard and unyielding as a boot just
from the hands of the maker; you must conform to his model, or he will
conscientiously pinch your moral corns in a most grievous manner; he
cannot grant you a hair's-breadth without bursting his uppers and
endangering his sole. But pleasant as our corrupt friends are apt to be,
you must not trust your affections and your happiness to them, or you
may find that you have cast your pearls before the unclean.
These reflections are not perhaps of the newest, but they are just as
true as when they were first promulgated.
Concerning the possible flirtation to which I have alluded Doctor
Ravenel was constantly ill at ease. If he found on returning from a walk
that Lillie had received a call from the Colonel during his absence, he
was secretly worried and sometimes openly peevish for hours afterward.
He would break out upon that sort of people, though always without
mentioning names; and the absent Carter would receive a severe lashing
over the back of some gentleman whom Lillie had known or heard of in New
Orleans.
"I don't see how I ever lived among such a disreputable population," he
would say. "I look upon myself sometimes as a man who has just come from
a twenty-five year's residence among the wealthy and genteel pirates of
the Isle of Pines. I actually feel that I have no claims upon a decent
society to be received as a respectable character. If a New Boston man
should refuse to shake hands with me on the ground that my associations
had not been what they should be, I could not find it in my heart to
disagree with him. Among that people I used to wonder at the patience of
the Almighty. I obtained a conception of his long-suffering mercies such
as I could not have obtained in a virtuous community. Just look at that
Colonel McAllister, who used to be the brightest ornament of New Orleans
fashion. A mass of corruption! The immoral odor of him must have been an
offense to the heavens. I can imagine the angels and glorified spirits
looking down at him with disgust, and actually holding their noses, like
the king in Orcagna's picture when he comes across the dead body. There
never was a subject brought into our dissecting room so abominable to
the physical senses as that man was to the moral sense."
"Oh, papa, don't!" implored Miss Lillie. "You talk most horridly when
you get started on certain subjects."
"My conversation isn't half pungent enough to do justice to the perfume
of the subject," insisted the Doctor. "When I speak or try to speak of
that McAllister, and of similar people to be met there and everywhere, I
am obliged to admit the inadequacy of language. Nothing but the last
trump can utter a sound appropriate to such personages."
"But Colonel McAllister is a very respectable middle-aged planter now,
papa," said Lillie.
"Respectable! Oh, my child! do not persist in talking as if you were
still in the nursery. Saint Paul, Pascal, Wilberforce couldn't have
remained respectable if they had been slaveholding planters."
To Colonel Carter personally the Doctor was perfectly civil, as he was
to every one with whom he was obliged to come in contact, including the
reprobated McAllister and his similars. Even had he been of a combative
disposition, or been twice as prejudiced against Carter as he was, he
could not have brought himself in these days and with his present loyal
enthusiasm, to discourteously entreat an officer who wore the United
States uniform and who had bled in the cause of country against treason.
Moreover he felt a certain degree of good-will towards our military
_roué_, as being the patron of his particular friend Colburne. Of this
young man he seemed almost as fond as if he were his father, without,
however, entertaining the slightest thought of gaining him for a
son-in-law. I never knew, nor read of, not even in the most unnatural
novels, an American father who was a matchmaker.
So the autumn and half the winter passed away, without any one falling
in love, unless it might be Colburne. It needed all his good sense to
keep him from it; or rather to keep him from paying Miss Ravenel what
are called significant attentions; for as to his being in love, I admit
it, although he did not. To use old-fashioned language, alarming in its
directness and strength of meaning, I suppose he would have courted her
if she would have let him. But there was something in the young lady's
manner towards him which kept him at arm's length; which had the charm
of friendship, indeed, but no faintest odor of even the possibility of
love, just as certain flowers have beauty but no perfume; which said to
him very gently but also very firmly, "Mr. Colburne, you had better not
be in a hurry."
At times he was under sudden and violent temptation. The trusting Doctor
placed Lillie under his charge to go to one or two concerts and popular
lectures, following therein the simple and virtuous ways of New Boston,
where young ladies have a freedom which in larger and wickeder cities is
only accorded to married women. On the way to and from these amusements,
Lillie's hand resting lightly on his arm, and the obscurity of the
streets veiling whatever reproof or warning might sparkle in her eyes,
his heart was more urgent and his soul less timid than usual.
"I have only one subject of regret in going to the war," he once said;
"and that is that I shall not see you for a long time, and may never see
you again."
There was a magnetic tremulousness in his voice which thrilled through
Miss Ravenel and made it difficult for her to breathe naturally. For a
few seconds she could not answer, any more than he could continue. She
felt as we do in dreams when we seem to stand on the edge of a gulf
wavering whether we shall fall backward into safety or forward into the
unknown. It was one of the perilous and decisive moments of the young
lady's life; but the end of it was that she recovered self-possession
enough to speak before he could rally to pursue his advantage. Ten
seconds more of silence might have resulted in an engagement ring.
"What a hard heart you have!" she laughed. "No greater cause of regret
than that! And here you are, going to lay waste my country, and perhaps
burn up my house. You abolitionists are dreadful."
He immediately changed his manner of conversation with a painful
consciousness that she had as good as ordered him to do so.
"Oh! I have no sort of compunction about turning the South into a
desert," he said, with a poor attempt at making merry. "I mean to take a
bag of salt with me, and sow all Louisiana with it."
And the rest of the dialogue, until he left her at the door of the
hotel, was conducted in the same style of laborious and painful
trifling.
As the day approached for the sailing of the regiment, Colburne looked
forward with dread yet with eagerness to the last interview. At times he
thought and hoped and almost expected that it would bring about some
decisive expression of feeling which should give a desirable direction
to the perverse heart of this inexplicable young lady. Then he reflected
during certain flashes of pure reason, how foolish, how cruel it would
be to win her affection only to quit her on the instant, certainly for
months, probably for years, perhaps for ever. Moreover, suppose he
should lose a leg or a nose in his first battle, how could he demand
that she should keep her vows, and yet how could he give her up? But
these last interviews are frequently unsatisfactory; and the one which
Colburne excitedly anticipated was eminently so. It took place in the
public parlor of the hotel; the Doctor was present, and so were several
dowager boarders. The regiment had marched through the city in the
afternoon, surrounded and cheered by crowds of enthusiastic citizens,
and was already on board of the coasting steamer which would transfer
it to the ocean transport at New York. Colburne had obtained permission
to remain in New Boston until the evening through train from the east.
"This is a proud day for you," said the warm-hearted Doctor. "But I must
say that it is a sad one for me. I am truly grieved to think how long it
may be before we shall see you again."
"I hope not very long," answered the young man with a gravity and
sadness which did not consort with his words.
He was pale, nervous and feverish, partly from lack of sleep the night
before.
"I really think it will not be very long," he repeated after a moment.
Now that peace was apparently his only chance of returning to Miss
Ravenel, he longed for it, and like most young people he could muster
confidence to believe in what he hoped. Moreover it was at this time a
matter of northern faith that the contest could not last a year; that
the great army which was being drilled and disciplined on the banks of
the Potomac would prove irresistible when it should take the field; that
McClellan would find no difficulty in trampling out the life of the
rebellion. Colonel Carter, Doctor Ravenel and a few obstinate old hunker
democrats were the only persons in the little State of Barataria who did
not give way to this popular conviction.
"Where are you going, Mr. Colburne?" asked Lillie eagerly.
"I don't know, really. The Colonel has received sealed orders. He is not
to open them until we have been twenty-four hours at sea."
"Oh! I think that is a shame. I do think that is abominable," said the
young lady with excitement. She was very inquisitive by nature, and she
was particularly anxious to know if the regiment would reach Louisiana.
"I am inclined to believe that we shall go to Virginia," resumed
Colburne. "I hope so. The great battle of the war is to be fought there,
and I want to take part in it."
Poor young man! he felt like saying that he wanted to be killed in it;
mistaken young man! he believed that there would be but one great
battle.
"Wherever you go you will be doing your duty as a patriot and a friend
of the interests of humanity," put in the Doctor, emphatically. "I
confidently anticipate for you the greatest successes. I anticipate your
personal success. Colonel Carter will undoubtedly be made a general, and
you will return the commander of your regiment. But even if you never
receive a grade of promotion, nor have a chance to strike a blow in
battle, you will still have performed one of the highest duties of
manhood and be entitled to our lasting respect. I sincerely and
fervently envy you the feelings which you will be able to carry through
life."
"Thank you, sir," was all the answer that Colburne could think of at the
moment.
"If you find yourself near a post-office you will let us know it, won't
you?" asked Lillie with a thoughtless frankness for which she
immediately blushed painfully. In the desire to know whether Louisiana
would be attacked and assaulted by Colonel Carter, she had said more
than she meant.
Colburne brightened into a grateful smile at the idea that he might
venture to write to her.
"Certainly," added the Doctor. "You must send me a letter at once when
you reach your destination."
Colburne promised as he was required, but not with the light heart which
had shone in his face an instant before. It was sadly clear, he thought,
that he must not on any account write to Miss Ravenel.
"And now I must say good-bye, and God bless you," he sighed, putting out
his hand to the young lady, while his face grew perceptibly whiter, if
we may believe the reports of the much affected dowager spectators.
As Miss Ravenel gave him her hand, her cheeks also became discolored,
not with pallor however, but only with her customary blush when excited.
"I do hope you will not be hurt," she murmured.
She was so simply kind and friendly in her feelings that she did not
notice with any thrill of emotion the fervent pressure, the clinging as
of despair, with which he held her hand for a few seconds. An hour
afterward she remembered it suddenly, blushing as she interpreted to
herself its significance, but with no sentiment either of love or anger.
"God bless you! God bless you!" repeated the Doctor, much moved. "Let me
know as early and as often as possible of your welfare. Our best wishes
go with you."
Colburne had found the interview so painful, so different from what his
hopes had pictured it, that, under pretence of bidding farewell to other
friends, he left the hotel half an hour before the arrival of his train.
As he passed through the outer door he met the Colonel entering.
"Ah! paid you adieux?" said Carter in his rough-and-ready, jaunty way.
"I must say good-bye to those nice people. Meet you at the train."
Colburne merely replied, "Very well sir," with a heart as gloomy as the
sour February weather, and strolled away, not to take leave of any more
friends, but to smoke an anchorite, uncomforting segar in the purlieus
of the station.
"Delighted to have found you," said the Colonel intercepting the
Ravenels as they were leaving the parlor for their rooms. "Miss Ravenel,
I have neglected my duty for the sake of the pleasure--no, the pain, of
bidding you good-bye."
The Doctor cringed at this speech, but expressed delight at the visit.
Lillie adorned the occasion by a blush as sumptuous as a bouquet of
roses, and led the way back to the parlor, defiant of her father's
evident intention to shorten the scene by remaining standing in the
hall. The Doctor, finding himself thus out-generalled, retorted by
taking the lead in the conversation, and talked volubly for ten minutes
of the magnificent appearance of the regiment as it marched through the
city, of the probable length of the war, and of the differing
characteristics of northerners and southerners. Meanwhile Miss Ravenel
sat quietly, after the fashion of a French _demoiselle_, saying nothing,
but perhaps thinking all the more dangerously. At last the Colonel broke
loose from the father and resolutely addressed himself to the daughter.
"Miss Ravenel, I suppose that you have not a friendly wish to send with
me."
"I don't know why I should have," she replied, "until I know that you
are not going to harm my people. But I have no very bad wishes."
"Thank you for that," he said with a more serious air than usual. "I do
sincerely desire that your feelings were such as that I could consider
myself to be fighting your cause. Perhaps you will find before we get
through that I am fighting it. If we should go to New Orleans--which is
among the possibilities--it may be the means of restoring you to your
home."
"Oh! I should thank you for that--almost. I should be tempted to feel
that the end justified the means."
"Let me hope that I shall meet you there, or somewhere, soon," he added,
rising.
His manner was certainly more earnest and impressive than it had ever
been before in addressing her. The tremor of her hand was perceptible to
the strong steady hand which took it, and her eyes dropped under the
firm gaze which met them, and which for the first time, she thought, had
an expression deeply significant to her.
"If she turns out to have any prospects"--thought the Colonel as he went
down stairs. "If they ever get back their southern property"--
He left the sentence unfinished on the writing tablets of his soul, to
light a segar. His impulses and passions were strong when once aroused,
but on this subject they had only begun to awaken.