A FRIEND AT COURT
Lieutenant Somers sat down in one corner of the car, near the seats
occupied by Miss Guilford and her father. He was just beginning to be
conscious of the fact that he had done a "big thing;" not because he had
helped one of God's suffering creatures, but because she happened to be a
Senator's daughter. But he still had the happy reflection, that what he
had done had been prompted by motives of humanity, not by the love of
applause, or for the purpose of winning the favor of a great man who
could dispense the "loaves and fishes" when he should need them.
He was rather sensitive. He was a young man of eighteen, and he had not
yet become familiar with the grossness and selfishness of this
calculating world. He was rather offended at the patronage which the
Senator had proposed to bestow upon him, and he even regretted that he
had so readily given him his address.
Lieutenant Somers regarded himself as emphatically a fighting officer;
and the idea of working his way up to distinction by the favor of a
member of Congress was repulsive to him. He really wished the Hon. Mr.
Guilford had only thanked him for what he had done, and not said a word
about having it in his power to be of service to him.
While he was meditating upon the events which had transpired, and the
Senator's patronizing offer, he saw Captain de Banyan enter the forward
door of the car through which the gentleman who had taken so much pains
to compliment the young officer had disappeared a short time before. The
distinguished captain walked through the car directly to the seat of the
lieutenant, who had not even yet ceased to blush under the praises which
had been bestowed upon him.
"Somers, your hand," said he, extending his own. "I have heard all about
it, and am proud that our regiment has furnished so brave and devoted a
man. Oh, don't blush, my dear fellow! You are a modest man. I sympathize
with you; for I am a modest man myself. I didn't get over blushing for
three weeks after his imperial majesty, the Emperor of France,
complimented me for some little thing I did at the battle of Palestro."
"I thought that was at Magenta," added Somers.
"So it was. The fact is, I have been in a great many battles, and I get
them mixed up a little sometimes. But you are in luck, Somers," continued
the captain in a lower tone, as he seated himself by the side of his
fellow-officer.
"Why so?"
"They say she is the daughter of a Senator."
"What of that?"
"What of that! Why, my dear fellow, you are as innocent as a school girl.
Don't you see he can get you on some general's staff, and have you
promoted every time there is a skirmish?"
"I don't want to be promoted unless I earn it."
"Of course you don't; but every officer that earns it won't get it. By
the way, Somers, can't you introduce me to the old gentleman?"
"I never saw him before in my life."
"No matter for that. I'll warrant you, he'll be glad to make all your
friends his friends."
"But I don't feel enough acquainted with him to introduce a gentleman
whom I never saw in my life till two hours ago."
"You are right, my dear fellow; excuse me," replied Captain de Banyan,
looking very much disappointed. "I dare say, if I should show him the
autograph of the Emperor of France, he would be very glad to know me."
"No doubt of it. At any rate, I recommend you to make the trial."
"Yes; but the mischief of it is, I have left all those papers at home."
"That's unfortunate," added Lieutenant Somers, who had some serious
doubts in regard to the existence of those papers.
"So it is. If I had been lucky enough to have made the acquaintance of
that young lady, as you have, I would not let my aspirations stop short
of the stars of a major-general."
"You need not as it is, if you do your duty."
"Ah! my dear fellow, you are as sentimental as a girl of sixteen. I am a
modest man; but, in my estimation, there are ten thousand men in the army
as good as I am. They can't all be major-generals, can they?"
"Certainly not."
"Then, if you live a few months longer, you will find out how good a
thing it is to have a friend at court. You are a modest young man; but I
suppose you think there isn't another man in the army who is quite your
equal, and that your merit and your bravery will make a brigadier of you
in less than a year. It's a good thing to think so; but----"
"I don't think so. That would be modesty with a vengeance."
"I was a sentimental boy like you once, and I was just as certain that I
should be made a field-marshal, and have the command of the French army
in the Crimea----"
"I thought you were in the English army in the Crimea," interposed the
young lieutenant, eager to change the subject.
"Certainly, in the English army; that's what I said," continued the
gallant captain, entirely unmoved by the interruption. "I was just as
sure of having the command of the British army in the Crimea as you are
of becoming a brigadier by the time we get into Richmond. But I have no
friends at court as you have now."
"I never thought of such a thing as being a brigadier," protested Somers.
"I never even expected to become a second lieutenant."
"It isn't much to be a brigadier. I served with 'Old Rosey' in West
Virginia for a time. We had a captain there who didn't know any more
about military than a swine does about Lord Chesterfield's table
etiquette. He went into action with a cane in his hand, hawbucking his
company about just as a farmer does a yoke of cattle. That fellow is a
brigadier-general now; and there's hope for you and me, if we can only
have a friend at court."
"I am higher now than I ever expected to be, and I wouldn't give a straw
for fifty friends at court."
"That's because you are sentimental; but you'll get over that."
"Lieutenant Somers," said Senator Guilford, who had risen from his seat,
and approached that occupied by the two officers, "I shall leave the
train at the next stopping-place, in order to procure proper medical
attendance for my daughter. I desire again to express my thanks to you
for the signal service you have rendered to my daughter."
Our hero blushed again, and stammered out some deprecatory remark.
"When you are in Washington, you must call and see me. You must promise
this for Emmie's sake, if not for mine," added the Senator.
"I should be very happy to call," replied the young officer.
"My friend Lieutenant Somers is as bashful as a maiden of sweet sixteen,"
interposed Captain de Banyan. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Guilford; though
your name and fame are familiar to me, I have not the honor of your
personal acquaintance; but, under the circumstances, I shall make it part
of my duty to see that my friend does not neglect your reasonable
request."
"Thank you, sir," replied the Senator.
"Captain de Banyan, at your service," added the modest officer who had
served in Italy and the Crimea.
"Thank you, Captain de Banyan. I see you are in the same regiment with
Lieutenant Somers."
"Yes, sir, I have that honor; and I assure you there is not a nobler and
braver young officer in the Army of the Potomac. He reminds me very much
of a splendid fellow I served with in the Crimea."
"Ah! you were in the Crimea?"
"I was, sir; and he looks very much like Captain de Waite, whom I saw
made a major on the field of Magenta, for the most daring bravery, by the
Emperor of France."
"You have seen service, captain," added the Senator.
"A little, sir."
"You must speak with my daughter, lieutenant, before we part," continued
Mr. Guilford. "Her gratitude has no limit."
Lieutenant Somers was astounded by the effrontery of his military
companion, who had claimed to be his friend, and forced himself upon the
acquaintance of the powerful man on the strength of that intimacy; had
even brought to his notice the fact--if it was a fact--that he had been
at Magenta and in the Crimea. The simple-minded young man had seen no
such diplomacy in Pinchbrook, or in the course of his travels in Maryland
and Virginia; and he was fearful that the audacious fellow would dare to
address the daughter as he had the father.
"Be seated," said the Senator, as he pointed to the seat in front of Miss
Emmie.
She was pale, and appeared to be suffering from the pain of her broken
arm; but she bestowed a sweet smile upon him as he took the proffered
seat.
"Lieutenant Somers, after what I have heard from Mr. Holman"--that was
the gentleman who had spoken so handsomely of him--"I feel sure that I
owe my life to you."
"I think not, Miss Guilford," replied the lieutenant, very much
embarrassed. "I only pulled you out from the ruins; I couldn't have
helped doing it if I had tried; and I hope you won't feel under any
obligations to me."
"But I do feel under very great obligations to you, and I assure you I am
happy to owe my life to so brave and gallant a soldier."
Somers felt just as though he was reading an exciting chapter in a
sensational novel; though he could not help thinking of Lilian Ashford,
and thus spoiling all the romance of the affair. He made no reply to Miss
Emmie's pretty speech; it was utterly impossible for him to do so; and
therein he differed from all the heroes of the novels.
"I want to hear from you some time, and even to see you again. You must
promise to call and see me when we get to Washington."
"I may not be able to leave my regiment at that time."
"Oh! my father will get you a furlough any time you want one."
Lieutenant Somers thought he would like to see himself asking a furlough
to enable him to visit a young lady in Washington, even if she was a
Senator's daughter; but he promised to call at Mr. Guilford's whenever he
happened to be at the capital, which was entirely satisfactory to the
young lady. Though Emmie was by this time suffering severely, she managed
to say several pleasant things; and among them she hinted that her father
could make a brigadier as easily as a tinker could make a tin kettle.
The train arrived at the stopping-place; and Mr. Guilford, with the
assistance of Lieutenant Somers, placed his daughter in a carriage.
Captain de Banyan was very anxious to assist in the operation; but the
sufferer declined. They parted with a renewed promise on the part of the
young officer to visit her in Washington, whenever his duty called him to
that city. The cars arrived in New York two hours behind time--too late
to connect with the train for Philadelphia. Captain de Banyan proposed,
as they were obliged to remain in the city over night, that they should
stop at the "Fifth Avenue," declaring that it was the best hotel in New
York. Somers objected; hoping that he should thus escape the society of
the captain, who appeared to be altogether too "fast" for his time.
De Banyan was accommodating; and, when the lieutenant mentioned a small
hotel downtown, he readily agreed to the proposition, and Somers found it
useless to attempt to get rid of him. The captain, for some reason or
other, appeared to have taken a decided liking to our officer. Perhaps he
hoped to share with him the powerful patronage of Senator Guilford.
After supper, Captain de Banyan proposed that they should go out and see
the "elephant;" but Somers, having no taste for the study of this
description of natural history, positively declined to see the
metaphorical monster.
"We must go somewhere," persisted the captain, taking up a newspaper.
"Here's a 'Lecture on the Battle of Bull Run, by Lieutenant-Colonel
Staggerback, who participated in that memorable action,'" he continued,
reading from the paper.
"I was in that battle myself; I don't object to that," replied Somers.
"Good! Then we'll go."
They walked up Broadway till they came to one of those gaudy saloons
where rum and ruin are tricked out in the gayest of colors.
"We are early for the lecture, Somers. Let's go in here, and see what
there is to be seen."
"No, I thank you; I don't care about going into any of these dens of vice
and sin."
"'Vice is a monster of so frightful mien,
As, to be hated, needs but to be seen,'"
repeated the captain with dramatic force.
"'But seen too oft----'
You needn't see it but once. Don't you want to see the lions of the
metropolis?"
"Don't object to the lions; but, in my opinion, you will find only the
donkeys in there."
"Let us see, at any rate."
"I will go in for a moment," replied Somers, who did not like to seem
over-squeamish.
They entered this outer gate to ruin. There was a bar at the end next to
the street, while at the other end a band of music was playing the
national airs. It looked like a very pleasant place to the young
lieutenant, who had never entered one of these saloons before.