THE VIRGINIA MAIDEN
"Where have you been, father?" said the young lady in a very sweet and
gentle tone, which, however, sounded like the knell of doom to poor
Somers. "I have been waiting for you half an hour."
But then, perceiving a stranger with her father, she drew back, abashed
at her own forwardness.
"Come here, Sue," said the old man. "Come here; I want to see you."
She advanced timidly from the bushes where she had been partially
concealed from the gaze of the passers-by. She was certainly a very
pleasant and comely-looking maiden; but, if she had been the "Witch of
Endor," she could not have been any more disagreeable to Somers. He was
as fond of adventure as any young man; and if he could have forgotten
that poor Owen Raynes, the son and the brother, was at that moment lying
in the mud of the swamp; his manly form no more to gladden the hearts of
those who stood before him; his voice hushed in death, no more to utter
the accents of affection to the devoted father and his loving sister--if
he could have forgotten his relations with the dead Owen, he might even
have enjoyed the exciting situation in which he was placed.
Sue, with a blushing face and half-averted gaze, stepped out into the
road, and stole a few timid glances at the young lieutenant. It was quite
evident that she did not have a suspicion of the identity of the young
soldier before her. Her father appeared to have a vein of romance in his
character, and was disposed to torture her for a time with the torments
of suspense, before he declared to her the astounding truth, that the
young soldier was her well-known but hitherto unseen friend from Alabama,
the bosom companion of her brother Owen, and, if everything worked as the
loving conspirators intended, the future husband of the affectionate
maiden.
She did not like to ask who the stranger was; and she thought it was very
provoking of her father not to tell her, when she was so fearfully
embarrassed by her position. She continued to blush; and Somers felt so
awkward, that he couldn't help joining her in this interesting display of
roses on the cheeks.
"Don't you know him, Sue?" demanded the farmer, when he had tantalized
her as long as the circumstances would warrant.
"Why, of course I don't, father!" stammered the Virginia maiden.
"Look in his face, and see if you can't tell," persisted Mr. Raynes.
"How absurd, father!"
"Absurd, child? Not at all absurd! Haven't you his picture in the house?
And, if I mistake not, you have looked at it as many as three times a day
for the last year."
"Now, father, you are too bad! I haven't done anything of the sort,"
protested Sue, pouting and twisting her shoulders as any country girl,
who had not been trained in a satinwood seminary, would have done under
such trying circumstances. "You don't mean to say that is Allan Garland?"
added she, her pretty face lighting up with an expression of intense
satisfaction.
"But I do, Sue," replied Mr. Raynes with emphasis.
"Why, Allan! I am so glad to see you! I was afraid I should never see
you!" exclaimed Sue, rushing up to the young man, and extending both her
hands, which he felt compelled to accept.
He was fearful that she would kiss him; and, though he would have been
under obligations to submit to the infliction, he was not sure that the
operation would not cause him to faint. Fortunately for him, Sue was
reasonable in her behavior; and he escaped cheaper than he expected, when
he beheld the impetuous charge which the maiden made upon him. If he had
really been Allan Garland, his reception would have been entirely proper,
and highly creditable to the affectionate nature of the Virginia damsel.
He was not the young gentleman from Alabama; and he felt as though he had
been flanked on both sides, with no chance to beat off the enemy in
front, or to run away in the rear. He was only a short distance from a
line of rebel sentinels, and he did not consider it prudent to escape by
taking to his legs. He did not wear his fighting socks at this time, and
felt that it would be no disgrace to run away from such an enemy as that
which confronted him.
"I am very glad to see you, Allan," repeated Sue, as the wretched young
man did not venture to use his tongue.
"Thank you, thank you, Miss Raynes!" said he at last, when silence seemed
even more dangerous than speech.
"Miss Raynes! Dear me, Allan, how very formal and precise you are! You
called me Sue in your letters."
"Did I? Well, I didn't know it," replied Somers with a stroke of candor
not to be expected under the circumstances.
"Certainly you did. I don't think you ever mentioned such a person as
Miss Raynes."
"I am confident I didn't," added he with another touch of candor. "But I
will always call you Sue hereafter, when I have occasion to speak to
you."
"Thank you, Allan! You begin to sound a little like yourself."
Somers was very glad to hear it, but wished he had been five miles off,
even if it had been in the very jaws of the Fourth Alabama.
"You don't look a bit like your photograph," continued Sue, gazing with
admiration at the face of the young man; for which those who ever saw
Lieutenant Somers will cheerfully pardon her.
"Do you think so?"
"I'm sure you don't."
"That's very strange. Everybody who has seen my photograph says it looks
exactly like me."
"I don't think so."
"I gave one to a young lady of my acquaintance, who said it was perfect."
"Indeed! Who was she?"
"She is a young lady whom I have met only two or three times."
"What is her name?"
"Lilian Ashford."
"What a pretty name!" said Sue, endeavoring to be magnanimous; though it
was evident that she was troubled by the honest avowal of the young
soldier.
"Where does she live?"
"She is at the North, now," answered Somers, who could not bear to tell a
lie when there was no need of such a sacrifice.
He was becoming very uneasy under this rigid catechizing, and hoped she
would not ask any more questions about Lilian Ashford. He had mentioned
her name with the hope that it might produce a coldness on her part which
would afford him some advantage. She did not, however, seem to be
annihilated by the prospect of a rival, and was proceeding to interrogate
him still further in regard to the lady, with whom he was apparently
intimate enough to present her his photograph, when Mr. Raynes reminded
her that they were standing in the road, and had better go into the
house.
"Now, Mr. Raynes, as I have seen Sue, and Sue has seen me, I think I had
better hasten to my regiment," suggested Somers.
"Not yet, Allan," replied the old man.
"Do you wish to run away, and leave me so soon, you monster?" added Sue.
"I tell you, sir, I shall not let you go yet."
"But, Sue! you forget that I have just returned from the Yankees. I was
furnished with a pass, to enable me to find my regiment."
"You shall find it in good time."
"Come to the house, Allan: we will not detain you long," added Mr.
Raynes.
"You must and shall come!" protested Sue, taking him by the arm, and
absolutely compelling him to go, or be guilty of the most unpardonable
rudeness to the fair Virginia damsel.
"I should be very glad to go with you, Sue, if my duty did not call me
elsewhere. I am to be sent off on very important service."
"Again?--so soon?"
"This very day. I may never see you again."
"And you would coolly run away and leave me without even going into the
house!"
"But my duty, Sue!"
"You will be in time for your duty."
"I may be arrested as a deserter."
"Nonsense! You have a pass in your pocket."
"In spite of the pass, if your father had not happened to see me, I
should have been arrested, and might have spent a day or two in the
guardhouse before the case could have been explained."
"No more argument, Allan," said the persevering girl. "Here is the house;
you shall go in and look at mother, if you don't stop but a minute.
Besides, I want to see your photograph while you are present; for I am
sure you don't look any more like the picture than the picture does like
you."
"Probably not," replied Somers, as the resolute maiden dragged him into
the house; where, without stopping to breathe, she presented him to her
mother, with the astounding declaration, that he was Allan Garland.
Mrs. Raynes gave him a cordial Virginia welcome; and, while he was
endeavoring to make himself as agreeable as possible to the old lady, Sue
rushed up-stairs to procure the faithless photograph. She returned in a
moment with the picture in her hand, and proceeded at once to institute a
comparison between the shadow and the substance.
"Now, stand up here, sir, and let me see," said she, as she playfully
whisked him round and scrutinized his features. "I told you it did not
look like you; and I am very sure now that it does not."
"Let me see," added Somers, extending his hand for the picture.
"Will you promise to give it back to me?"
"Certainly I will! You don't imagine I would be so mean as to confiscate
it?"
"I should not care much if you did, now that I have found out it does not
look any more like you than it does like me," she answered, handing him
the photograph.
"Where did you get this picture, Sue?"
"Where did I get it? Well, that is cool! Didn't you send it to me
yourself?" And Sue began to exhibit some symptoms of amazement.
"I am very sure I never sent you this picture," added Somers gravely.
"You did not?"
"Never."
"Why, Allan Garland!"
"This is not my picture."
"I shouldn't think it was."
Thereupon Mr. Raynes began to laugh in the most immoderate manner;
opening his mouth wide enough to take in a very small load of hay, and
shaking his sides in the most extraordinary style.
"What are you laughing at, pa?" demanded Sue, blushing up to the eyes, as
though she already felt the force of some keenly satirical remark which
was struggling for expression in the mouth of the farmer.
"To think you have been looking at that picture three times a day for a
year, studying, gazing at it; kissing it, for aught I know; and then to
find out that it is not Allan after all!" roared the Virginia farmer
between the outbreaks of his mirth. "I haven't done anything but groan
since the war began, and it does me good to laugh. I haven't had a jolly
time before since the battle of Bull Run, as the Yankees call it."
"You are the most absurd pa in Virginia. I didn't look at it three times
a day, I never studied it, and I'm sure I never kissed it. No wonder
Allan wants to get away, when he finds what an absurd girl you make me
out to be. You think I'm a fool, don't you, Allan?"
"I do not, by any means. I'm sure, if I had your picture, I shouldn't
have been ashamed to look at it three times a day," replied Somers,
gallantly coming to the rescue of the maiden. "But, really, my Virginia
patriarch," he added, using an expression which he had found in the
correspondence in his pocket, "I must tear myself away."
"You seem to be glad enough to go," pouted Sue.
"Sorry to go, but compelled by the duty I owe my country to leave you."
"When will you come again?"
"Of course, that question I cannot answer. I may never see you again.
This is a terrible war, and we cannot tell what a day may bring forth,"
replied Somers solemnly; and the thought was all the more solemn when he
thought of the cold corpse of the son and brother concealed in the mire
of the swamp.
He had seen the old man laugh as none but a happy man can; and he could
not help feeling what a terrible revulsion a few words from him might
cause. He had watched the playful manner of Sue, and had joined in the
gay raillery of the moment. A word from him would crush her spirit, and
bow that loving mother to the ground. The scene had not been one of his
own choosing; and he would gladly escape the necessity of dissembling
before those affectionate hearts.
"We are on the eve of a terrible battle," added the old man very gravely.
"Hundreds of our poor boys went down yesterday, never to rise again. We
tremble when we think of you in the field. I may never see my son again;
for the issue of the war may depend on the battles of the next few days."
"What do you mean?"
Mr. Raynes seemed to know more than he had dared to speak; and Somers was
full of interest.
"The Yankees, who expect to go into Richmond, will be driven down the
Peninsula, where they came up, like flying sheep, within a week. I have
heard a few words, which satisfies me that great events are coming."
Though it was not supposable that the people in the vicinity of Richmond
knew the plans of General Lee, from what he had seen, and from what he
had heard from men in power, he had formed a very correct idea of the
intended operations of the rebel chief; and he stated his views very
clearly to Somers. While he was listening to the old man's theory, Mrs.
Raynes had spread her table, and placed upon it such food as was
available for a hasty lunch. She insisted that he should partake; and,
while he enjoyed the welcome refreshment, Mr. Raynes told him everything
about the movements of the Confederate army in the vicinity, with full
particulars of the battle of the preceding day. While the scout was thus
answering the ends of his mission, he was in no hurry to depart.
General McClellan's "change of base" was not suspected by the rebels at
this time. It was their purpose to flank the Union army on the right and
left, and destroy it effectually. The dispositions had been made for this
purpose; and, as Mr. Raynes was a man of influence and intelligence, his
information was as reliable as could be deduced from the preliminary
movements of the rebel army. He was confident of success. The execution
of the plan had already been commenced, and the right of the Union line
was in the act of falling back.
He expatiated upon the perils of the campaign, and the terrible fighting
which was to be expected; and manifested the utmost solicitude for the
safety of his son, and hardly less for his guest.
Somers prolonged his repast, that the old man might leave nothing unsaid
that would be important for the Union generals to know. Sue occasionally
joined in the conversation; but she was quite serious now, as she
contemplated the perils to which her brother and her friend from Alabama
must be subjected.
"Do you know where General Jackson is now?" asked Somers.
"I don't know exactly where he is; but I know what part he has to play in
the great drama. The last we heard of him was, that he was watching
McDowell, near Fredericksburg. If McDowell keeps quiet, Jackson will rush
down on the left flank of the Yankees, and cut off their retreat."
"Are you sure?"
"I am very sure. I can tell you why."
Before he had time to tell him why, a knock at the door disturbed the
conference; and a young man, in a tattered rebel uniform, was ushered
into the room.