Miss Kitty's tongue had been far from idle all the time that the judge
and I had been talking over these matters, but it was only just before
we reached our destination that I heard her telling Miss Summers of the
events of the evening. The moment she mentioned that our lieutenant was
hurt, Miss Pauline started and exclaimed,--
"Oh, Kitty! You don't mean it! What _will_ Major Vinton say?"
"Who is Major Vinton?" said Miss Kit.
"Major Vinton is the commanding officer of the cavalry, and Mr. Amory is
one of his lieutenants. Father knows them both very well, and the major
is with us almost every day," was the answer.
Miss Kit's eyes must have been as big as saucers when she heard that. I
couldn't see, but knew it when she exclaimed, in tones almost
horror-stricken,--
"Oh, Pauline! Do you mean to tell me that uncle and you receive Yankee
officers! I wouldn't have believed it!"
"You don't know him, Kitty," was Miss Summers's quiet answer. "I
believe that we owe father's life to him, and I know that, but for him,
none of us could have remained here. He is a thorough gentleman, and
you'd like him if you only knew him as we do. As for Mr. Amory, he is
only a boy, to be sure; but the major says he is a fine officer, and I
know that he is a real nice fellow."
Miss Kit relapsed into amazed silence; the judge added some few gentle
words of reproof for her treatment of the youngster; and I was smiling
to myself over the whole affair, when we drove up to the main entrance
of their once beautiful home. A tall, soldierly-looking man opened the
door, exchanged a word of greeting with Miss Summers as he assisted the
ladies to alight, and then, as they scurried away up the stairs, I was
introduced to Major Vinton.
Now, though we had never met before, the major's name was by no means
unfamiliar. We were both New Yorkers; both had struggled through
Columbia, and had many a wrestle with Anthon and Drisler; both had
rushed to arms in heroic style and tramped off for Washington at the
first call for troops. But I had speedily tramped back again; while he
remained, chose the cavalry arm of the service, fought his way up to the
command of his regiment; and when, in 1865, his services were no longer
needed, sheathed his sabre; put aside his well-worn regimentals; tried
hard to interest himself in some civil pursuit; took a brief tour
abroad, returned just as the new organization of the regular army was
being made, and meeting one night a joyous bevy of his old comrades,
regular and volunteer, with whom he had fought over every field from
Bull Run to Five Forks, the old fire was fanned into a blaze, and in one
week he found himself a successful candidate for a captaincy of cavalry.
The "major" came afterwards "by brevet," and Vinton had settled down
into contentedly following the old life, though in a less exciting time
and exalted capacity. He greeted me in a frank, warm-hearted way; and we
were in the midst of a comparison of notes as to old college names, when
the judge interrupted us with,--
"Vinton, Mr. Brandon brings important news, which I think you ought to
know at once." So once again the story of our little adventure was told.
The major listened attentively and never interposed a word; but his brow
darkened and his face set when I came to Amory's wound and Hank Smith's
parting threat. The instant I finished he turned to a servant, saying,--
"Be good enough to tell my orderly to bring the horses round at once."
In vain the judge begged him to stay and have supper, or at least some
little refreshment. The major said, very quietly, that he must be off
to camp at once; asked me one or two more questions in a business-like
way; and the moment the horses came, bade us good night, swung into
saddle, and followed by his orderly, disappeared at a rapid trot. The
judge and I stood listening on the portico until the hoof-beats died
away, and then returned to the blaze of the great wood-fire in the
sitting-room. The young ladies came fluttering down-stairs. Supper was
announced. Miss Pauline looked inquiringly around as we walked into the
next room, where a bounteous table was spread.
"Where is Major Vinton, father?"
"Gone back to camp, dear. He asked me to present his excuses to you, but
he was obliged to leave as soon as he heard of this affair."
I fancied that a shade of disappointment settled on Miss Summers's face,
but she merely answered, "Indeed, I'm very sorry," and busied herself
with the tea and coffee.
Miss Kit looked immensely relieved, and immediately became
radiant;--chattered like a little magpie,--in fact, was as charming and
bewitching as possible; but it was already late; good-nights were soon
exchanged; and, tired out, the household went to sleep.
Next morning when we assembled in the breakfast-room, our little heroine
looked fresher, prettier, and _tinier_ than the day before. This time
her hair was "fixed," and that was the only point that in my eyes was
no improvement. All day long the judge and I roamed about the premises
or pored over the cases he had on hand. All day long the young ladies
laughed, chatted, flitted about from one room to another, played and
sang. No news came from the camp. Late in the afternoon, when we were
all standing on the portico, a solitary trooper came cantering up the
road along which the major had disappeared the night before. Without
knowing why, I found my eyes turning upon Miss Summers. She was
listening abstractedly to Miss Kit's account of a visit to the Mammoth
Cave, but _her_ eyes were fixed upon the horseman as he rapidly neared
the gate,--neared it, and, never drawing rein or checking speed, rode
stolidly past on the road to Sandbrook depot. The wistful, almost eager
light faded from her soft brown eyes; the full lip quivered one little
bit; but quickly rallying, she plunged into a blithe wordy skirmish with
her cousin about some alleged flirtation of the summer previous.
Evening came, and with it Harrod Summers and Mr. Peyton; both making
much over Miss Kit; both bemoaning the accident which had prevented
their meeting; and both apparently pleased to know that "Mr. Brandon was
_so_ kind and attentive." I had known Harrod slightly before, as he was
away much of the time of my previous visit; but I knew him to be his
father's son, a man to be honored and respected. Of Peyton, the less
said the better. He was a rash, foolhardy, and, I feared, criminally
reckless boy, a violent "reb" and unsparing hater of every Yankee. I had
heard grave stories concerning his connection with some of the acts of
violence committed upon the Union-loving people in the vicinity, and had
noticed the troubled look on the judge's face every time his name was
mentioned. I knew that he had been arrested, and that there was strong
presumptive evidence as to his guilt; but he had been immediately bailed
out and released. After this occurrence, the judge had managed to
persuade him to take a trip to Havana and New Orleans; but the moment he
heard of Miss Kitty's projected visit he came hurrying back. They were
second cousins, and had met abroad. Rumor had it that Peyton had offered
himself; that Miss Kit had a girlish fancy for him; that his suit
promised favorably until Aunt Mary became suddenly aware of this nice
little family arrangement, and, being a woman of the world, and
possessed of a keen sense of what constituted the eligible and
ineligible in a young man, swooped remorselessly down upon the blissful
pair; hustled Master Ned into immediate exile; and, gathering her one
chicken under the shadow of her protecting wing, bore her in triumph
away to a realm uninfested with dangerous young men. Miss Kit is said
to have shed bitter tears one week; sulked the next; pouted another; to
have made a vigorous and romantic attempt at pining in all three; but
the effort was too much for her; and, being wisely left to herself, it
was not long before Peyton and his escapades were to her matters of
serene indifference.
Not so with him, however. To do him justice, Peyton was probably very
much in love; and at all events had a very correct idea of the unlimited
benefits to be obtained through the medium of Miss Kit's solid bank
account. He was no fool, if he was a reprobate; and was as handsome and
naughty a wolf as could be found infesting Southern sheepfolds; and here
he was, primed and ready to renew the attack. The judge didn't like it;
Miss Summers didn't; nor Harrod; nor I; but it only took a few hours to
convince us all that our beauty had just enough feminine mischief in her
to enjoy the prospect of another flirtation with her old flame; and so
to all but Peyton and to her, the evening passed gloomily enough. The
judge retired to his library; Miss Summers played soft, sad music at the
piano; and Harrod and I smoked cigar after cigar upon the porch.
Ten o'clock came and still the pair were cooing away in the corner;
Kitty's low, sweet, bubbling laugh floating out through the open
casement to where we sat. Miss Summers closed her piano abruptly; came
out to our nook on the portico; and, declining the offer of a chair,
stood leaning her hand upon her brother's shoulder.
Harrod looked fondly up at her for a moment or two as she gazed out
towards the gate; then a teasing smile played about his mouth as he
asked,--
"Anybody been here to-day, Paulie?"
"No-o-o-o! That is, nobody to speak of."
"No major, then?"
Pauline looks squarely down into her brother's eyes as she answers, "No
major, if you refer to Major Vinton." A little heightened color,
perhaps, but that's all. She is as brave as Harrod and not easy to
tease.
Harrod turns to me: "Do you think he has gone after those men with his
troop, Mr. Brandon?"
"I don't know, colonel; he said nothing about it, but rode off
immediately. I shouldn't wonder, though; for the judge tells me he is
over here almost every day."
"Ye-e-es?" (inquiringly.) "How is that, Paulie?"
Paulie has no reasons to allege; probably he wouldn't come if he didn't
want to.
"True enough," Harrod suggests; "and still less unless he knew he was
welcome. He is awfully proud, isn't he, Paulie?"
"Indeed, Harrod, I don't know; but he is welcome, and any man who has
rendered us the service he has in protecting our father against the
fury of that mob on court-day, ought to be welcome among us!"--Color
rising and a perceptible tremor of the hand on Harrod's shoulder. He
takes it gently and leans his cheek lovingly upon it as he looks up at
the flushing face, whose dark eyes still gaze unflinchingly into his
own.
"You are right enough, dear, and you know I agree with you. He _is_ a
noble fellow, Brandon, and I hope you'll meet and know him better.
Father's decision against two or three Ku-Klux raised a terrible row
here; and as he attempted to leave the court-house with one or two
friends the mob hooted him; and even his long residence among these
people would not have saved him. They call him traitor and Yankee now.
Well, father tried to speak to them, but they wouldn't listen. A few
more friends gathered round him; a blow was struck; and then the mob
charged. Shooting ensued, of course, and two of their own men were badly
wounded, while father and his party of six barred themselves in the
court-house. Old Jake Biggs dashed out to camp, luckily meeting Major
Vinton on the way, and in five minutes from the time the first shot was
fired, and before those howling devils could break down the door, Vinton
darted at a gallop into their midst,--not a soul with him but his
orderly,--rode up to the door as though he were built of cast iron, and
then turned squarely and confronted the whole mob. There's only one
thing on earth these people are afraid of, Brandon: they don't care a
fig for law, sheriffs, or marshals, but they would rather see the devil
than the Federal uniform. And for ten minutes Vinton and his one man
kept that mob at bay; and then young Amory with half the troop came
tearing into town, and if the major hadn't checked them, would have gone
through that crowd in ten seconds.
"The mob skulked off; but they hate father and the cavalry most
bitterly, and would wreak their vengeance if they dared. I was away in
Mobile at the time, and knew nothing about the affair until next day,
when my sister's telegram came; but the sheriff never tires of telling
how the major rode into that crowd; and how mad Mr. Amory was because
Vinton stopped his charge."
"No wonder you all think so much of him, colonel," I answered. "He comes
of a noble old race, and whether as enemy or friend you cannot fail to
respect him; and I'm glad to see a cordial feeling springing up between
our sections in this way. I would to God it were more general!"
"Ah, Brandon, it is not the soldiers, not the men who did the fighting,
who are bitter now. Our enemies in the North are the men who sat at home
wondering why your Army of the Potomac didn't move. Your enemies are
those who never felt the shock of Northern arms. We would have had peace
long ago could the soldiers have been allowed to make the terms."
And so we sat and talked, until the clocks throughout the house were
chiming eleven, and then Miss Summers declared we must retire. The
corner flirtation was broken up; Peyton and Miss Kit exchanging a
lingering and inaudible good-night at the stairs. Harrod and I closed
and bolted doors and windows. Peyton stuck his hands in his pockets and
walked nervously up and down the hall buried in thought until we had
finished our work; and then, on receiving Colonel Summers' somewhat cold
intimation that it was time to go to bed, wished us a sulky "pleasant
dreams," took his candle and disappeared.
Harrod waited until he was out of hearing and then said to me, "They are
all out of the way now, Brandon, and I want to see you one moment. It is
a hard thing to say of one's own kinsman, but Peyton can't be trusted in
this matter. Here is a letter that was left for father at the
post-office in town, but I have opened and withheld it, knowing that it
would only cause him unnecessary trouble. I'm worried about it, and had
hoped that Vinton would have come over to-day; we're safe enough with
him and his men."
Saying this he handed me the letter. I had seen them before; Ku-Klux
anonymous rascalities,--a huge, coarse, brown envelope, directed in a
sprawling hand to the "Honerable Judge Summers," and embellished in red
ink with numerous death's-heads, K. K.'s, and in the upper left-hand
corner a flaming scroll, on which appeared in bold relief the words
"Blood! Death! Liberty!" The whole affair was ludicrous enough in
appearance, and, throwing it to one side, I read the inclosure. It began
with the usual "Death to Traitors," and wound up, after one or two
incoherent "whereases" and "therefores," by informing the judge that if
he remained in that vicinity twenty-four hours longer "all the damned
Yankees this side of hell couldn't save him," and intimating that the
lives of the Federal officers upon whom he relied "weren't worth their
weight in mud."
Harrod and I sat for some time talking over this elegant document, and
decided that nothing should be said until we could see Major Vinton on
the following day. The camp was six miles away, and on the outskirts of
the county-seat where the court-house row had taken place; and Sandbrook
was nearly as far in the opposite direction. He anticipated no danger
for that night; but such had been the reckless nature of the Klan, that
we agreed it best to be on the safe side and to look well to our arms;
then we parted, each to his own room.