SCOVILLE'S HOPE
Mrs. Whately found her niece on the veranda watching the proceedings
without, and she lost no time in expressing her purpose. To her
surprise, a pair of arms were around her neck instantly, and a kiss was
pressed upon her lips.
"That's my answer," said Miss Lou, who was as ready to forgive and
forget as a child. "If you say a word about going home I shall be
unhappy. See, auntie, the Yankees are retreating again as our men
advance."
The morning sun was now shining brightly and the day growing very warm.
Before them was the scene of military operations. At present, it
afforded a deeply exciting spectacle, yet oppressed with no sense of
personal danger. Scoville's little force was slowly retiring along the
ridge which the Confederates were approaching, thus removing the
theatre of actual conflict from the vicinity of the dwelling.
Mr. Baron appeared on the veranda and soon began to yield to the
soothing influences of his pipe. It was not in his nature to make any
formal acknowledgments of error, but he felt that he had gone on the
wrong track far and long enough, and so was ready for a gradual
amelioration in his relations to his niece and sister. They had become
too absorbed in the scene before them to think of much else, while Mrs.
Baron sought composure and solace in her domestic affairs.
At last Mrs. Whately said, "The Yankees appear to have stopped
retreating and to be increasing in numbers. Alas! I fear our men are in
great danger and that the main column of the enemy is near."
There was a sudden outbreak of cries and exclamations from the negroes
in the rear of the mansion. Zany rushed out, saying, "De Yanks comin'
by Aun' Jinkey's cabin."
She had scarcely spoken before they heard a rush of trampling steeds
and the head of a Union column swept round the house. Miss Lou saw
Scoville leading and knew that he had availed himself of his
acquaintance with the place to guide an attack upon the Confederates in
their rear. He saluted her with his sabre and smiled as he passed, but
her sympathies were with the major, now taken at such disadvantage. At
this period the troops on both sides were veterans, and neither fought
nor ran away without good reason. Major Brockton knew as well what to
do as had Scoville before him, and retreated at a gallop with his men
toward the southwest, whence his supports were advancing. The Union
attack, however, had been something of a surprise and a number of the
Confederates were cut off.
The scene and event had been one to set every nerve tingling. But a few
yards away the Union force had rushed by like a living torrent, the
ground trembling under the iron tread of the horses. Far more
impressive had been the near vision of the fierce, bronzed faces of the
troopers, their eyes gleaming like their sabres, with the excitement of
battle. Scoville won her admiration unstintedly, even though she
deprecated his purpose. His bearing was so fearless, so jaunty even in
its power, that he seemed as brave as any knight in the old-fashioned
romances she had read, yet so real and genial that it was hard to
believe he was facing death that sunny morning or bent upon inflicting
it. Looking at his young, smiling, care-free face, one could easily
imagine that he was taking part in a military pageant; but the headlong
career and flashing weapons of his men, who deployed as they charged
straight at the Confederates, dispelled any such illusion.
The ridge began to grow black with Union men and Miss Lou soon
perceived the gleam of artillery as the guns were placed in position.
Mr. Baron, who had permitted his pipe to go out in the excitement,
groaned, "The Yanks have come in force and are forming a line of battle
yonder. If our troops come up, the fight will take place on my land.
Lord help us! What's coming next?"
Miss Lou began to receive impressions which filled her with awe.
Heretofore she had been intensely excited by what had been mere
skirmishes, but now she witnessed preparations for a battle. That long
line of dark blue on the ridge portended something more terrible than
she could imagine. The sounds of conflict died away down the main road,
the ring of axes was heard in the grove which crowned the ridge near
the mansion, and Mr. Baron groaned again. Thin curls of smoke began to
define the Union position--before noon thousands of coffee-pots were
simmering on the fires.
At last, a tall man, followed by a little group of officers and a
squadron of cavalry, rode down the ridge toward the mansion. These
troopers surrounded the house, forming one circle near and another much
further away, so that none could approach without causing prompt alarm.
The group of officers dismounted and orderlies held their horses. As
the tall man came up the veranda steps Miss Lou saw two white stars on
his shoulder. Then her uncle advanced reluctantly and this man said,
"Mr. Baron, I presume?"
"Yes, sir."
"My name is Marston, commanding officer. This is my staff. Will you
oblige us by as good a meal as can be provided hastily? I will pay for
it."
"No, sir, you cannot pay for it," replied Mr. Baron indignantly. "I
keep a house of entertainment only for my friends. At the same time I
know your request is equivalent to a command, and we will do the best
we can."
"Very well, sir. I can repay you in a way that will be satisfactory to
my mind and be more advantageous to you. Hartly, tell the officer in
command to permit no depredations. Ladies, your servant," and the
general dropped into a chair as if weary.
Some of the younger officers promptly sought to play the agreeable to
Mrs. Whately and her niece, and upon the latter all eyes rested in
undisguised admiration. Cold and shy as she had appeared, she had not
failed to note the fact. The woman was sufficiently developed within
her for this, and the quick, unanimous verdict of these strangers and
enemies in regard to herself which she read in their eyes came with
almost the force of a revelation. For the first time, she truly became
conscious of her beauty and its power. More than ever, she exulted in
her escape and freedom, thinking, "What a poor figure is Cousin Mad
beside these men whose faces are so full of intelligence!"
Mrs. Whately was the perfection of dignified courtesy, but quickly
excused herself and niece on the plea of hastening preparations. She
was one who could not extend even enforced hospitality bereft of its
grace, and she also explained to Miss Lou, "We had much better gain
their good-will than their ill-will."
"Well, auntie, we must admit that the Yankees have not acted like
monsters yet."
The lady bit her lip, but said after a moment, "I suppose gentlemen are
much the same the world over. Thus far it has been our good-fortune to
have met with such only. There is another class, however, from which
God defend us!"
"Lieutenant Scoville admitted that himself. So there is on our side
--men like Perkins."
"No, I mean Yankee officers who have at least permitted the worst
wrongs in many parts of our unhappy land." "Well," thought Miss Lou, as
she helped Zany set the table, "after my experience I shall believe
what I see. What's more, I mean to see the world before I die and judge
of everything for myself. Now if the general on our side, with his
staff, will only come to supper, I shall get quite an education in one
day."
Mrs. Baron retired to her room and would have nothing whatever to do
with her present guests, but Aun' Suke did not need her orders now, nor
did any of her assistants.
Chunk had again returned to his haunts and had made havoc in the
poultry-yard. Now he worked like a beaver, meantime enjoining Aun' Suke
"ter sabe de plumpest chicken ob de lot fer my Boss. Marse Scoville
brung 'em all yere, you knows. Hi! but we uns had ter git out sud'n
dough dis mawnin'."
"Does you tink de Linkum men git druv off agin?"
"How you talks! Aun' Suke. Hi! Druv off! Why, de ridge des black wid
um--anuff ter eat Mad Whately en all he men alibe. Dey des ridin' troo
de kintry freein' we uns."
"Well, I hopes I kin stay free till night, anyhow," said Aun' Suke,
pausing in her work to make a dab at a little darky with her wooden
spoon sceptre. "Firs' Marse Scoville whirl in en say I free; den old
miss whirl in en say I ain'; now conies de gin'ral ob de hull lot en
I'se free agin. Wat's mo', de freer I git de harder I has ter wuk. My
haid gwine roun' lak dat ar brass rewster on de barn, wen' de win' blow
norf en souf ter oncet."
"No mattah 'bout yo' haid, Aun' Suke. Dat ain' no 'count. Hit's yo'
han's dat de gin'ral want busy."
"No mattah 'bout my haid, eh? Tek dat on yo'n den," and she cracked
Chunk's skull sharply.
"Dat's right, Aun' Suke, keep de flies away," remarked Chunk quietly.
"You git all de freedom you wants ef you does ez I sez."
"Mo'n I wants ef I've got ter min' ev'ybody, eben dem w'at's neber
growed up."
"I des step ter de gin'ral en say you hab dejections 'bout cookin' he
dinner. Den I tell 'im ter order out a char'ot ter tek you ter glory."
"G'lang! imperdence," said Aun' Suke, resuming her duties.
"La! Aun' Suke," spoke up Zany, who had been listening for a moment,
"doan yer know Chunk de boss ob de hull bizness? He des pickin'
chickens now ter let de gen'ral res' a while. Bimeby he git on he hoss
en lead de hull Linkum army wid yo' wooden spoon."
Chunk started for her, but the fleet-footed girl was soon back in the
dining-room.
When the early dinner was almost ready Mr. Baron said to his sister:
"Surely, there's no reason why you and Louise should appear."
"Very good reason, brother. I shall make these Northern officers feel
that they have eaten salt with us and so are bound to give us their
protection. Moreover, I wish to gain every particle of information that
I can. It may be useful to our general when he appears. Bring out your
wine and brandy, for they loosen tongues."
It soon became evident, however, that General Marston and his staff
felt in no need of Dutch courage, and were too plainly aware of their
situation to confuse their minds with their host's liquor even if they
were so inclined. The general was serious, somewhat preoccupied, but
courteous, especially to Miss Lou, on whom his eyes often rested
kindly. At last he said:
"I have a little girl at home about your age and with your blue eyes.
I'd give a good deal to see her to-day."
"I think, sir, you are glad that she is not where I am to-day," Miss
Lou ventured to answer.
"Yes, that's true. I hope no harm will come to you, my child, nor will
there if we can help it. I know what claims you have upon us and would
be proud indeed if my daughter would behave as you have in like
circumstances. I have travelled the world over, Mrs. Whately, and have
never seen the equal of the unperverted American girl."
"I certainly believe that true of Southern girls, general," was the
matron's reply, although she flushed under a consciousness of all that
Scoville might have reported.
"Pardon me, madam, but you are in danger of perverting the minds of
Southern girls with prejudice, a noble kind of prejudice, I admit,
because so closely allied with what they regard as patriotism, but
narrow and narrowing nevertheless. That old flag yonder means one
people, one broad country, and all equally free under the law to think
and act."
"Do you intend to remain in this country and hold it in subjection?"
Mrs. Whately asked in smiling keenness.
"We intend to give the Southern people every chance to become loyal,
madam, and for one I rest confidently in their intelligence and sober
second thoughts. They have fought bravely for their ideas, but will be
defeated. The end is drawing near, I think."
"Well, sir," said Mr. Baron grimly, "I am sorry you are preparing for
some more bloody arguments about our very ears."
"I am also, on account of these ladies; in other respects, I am not. By
night there may be many wounded and dying men. It will be well for them
that they do not fall in a wild and desolate region like some that we
have passed through. As you say, sir, war is an argument, a heated one
at times. But a wounded man is an appeal to all kindly humanity. You
would nurse me a little, Miss Baron, if I were brought in wounded,
would you not?"
"Yes, sir, I would, because I feel what you say about a wounded man is
true."
"Oh, I know that," he replied with a very kindly smile. "I hope to tell
my little girl about you." Suddenly he became grave again and said,
"Mr. Baron, you are somewhat isolated here, and may not be so well
informed as I am. However the prospective conflict may turn, I cannot
remain in this region. Many of our wounded may be left. Do not delude
yourself, sir, nor, if you can help it, permit your friends to be
deluded by the belief, or even hope, that our forces will not soon
control this and all other parts of the land. While I trust that
humanity will lead to every effort to assuage suffering and save life,
I must also warn you that strict inquisition will soon be made. There
is nothing that we resent more bitterly than wrongs to or neglect of
such of our wounded as must be left behind."
"It would seem, sir, that you hold me responsible for evils which I
cannot prevent."
"No, sir. I only suggest that you employ your whole influence and power
to avert future evils. I am offering a word to the wise, I trust. Ah,
Scoville, you have news?"
"Yes, sir, important," said that officer, standing dusty and begrimed
at the doorway.
"Is there haste? Is your information for my ear only? I'm nearly
through."
"Plenty of time for dinner, sir. No harm can now come from hearing at
once what I have to say."
"Go ahead, then. I'd like my staff to know."
"Well, sir, having got the enemy on the run, we kept them going so they
could not mask what was behind them. There's a large force coming up."
"As large as ours?"
"I think so. I gained an eminence from which I obtained a good view.
Major Jones told me to say that he would skirmish with the advance,
delay it, and send word from time to time."
"All right. Get some dinner, then report to me."
"Yes, sir;" and Scoville saluted and departed without a glance at any
one except his commander.
"What do you think of my scout, Miss Baron?" asked the general with a
humorous twinkle in his eyes.
"He proved himself a gentleman last evening, sir, and now I should
think he was proving a very good soldier, much too good for our
interests."
"You are mistaken about your interests. Don't you think he was rather
rude in not acknowledging your presence?"
"I don't know much about military matters, but I reckon he thought he
was on duty."
The general laughed. "Well," he remarked, "it does not seem to be age
that makes us wise so much as eyes that see and a brain back of them.
Scoville is a gentleman and a good soldier. He is also unusually well
educated and thoughtful for his years. You are right, my dear. Pardon
me, but you keep reminding me of my daughter, and I like to think of
all that's good and gentle before a battle."
"I wish I could meet her," said Miss Lou simply.
"Come and visit her after the war, then," said the general cordially.
"The hope of the country is in the young people, who are capable of
receiving new and large ideas." Having made his acknowledgments to Mr.
Baron and Mrs. Whately, he repaired to the veranda and lighted a cigar.
The staff-officers, who had tried to make themselves agreeable on
general principles, also retired.
Miss Lou's cheeks were burning with an excitement even greater than
that which the conflicts witnessed had inspired--the excitement of
listening to voices from the great unknown world. "These courteous
gentlemen," she thought, "this dignified general who invites me to
visit his daughter, are the vandals against whom I have been warned.
They have not only treated me like a lady, but have made me feel that I
was one, yet to escape them I was to become the slave of a spoiled,
passionate boy!"
Mrs. Whately guessed much that was passing in her mind, and sighed
deeply.
At the veranda steps stood Uncle Lusthah, hat in hand and heading a
delegation from the quarters. The general said, "Wait a moment," then
despatched one of his staff to the ridge with orders. "Now, my man."
Uncle Lusthah bowed profoundly and began, "De young Linkum ossifer
said, las' night, how you tell us mo' dis mawnin' 'bout our freedom."
"You are free. Mr. Lincoln's proclamation makes you all free."
"Kin we uns go 'long wid you, mars'r? Folks des seem kiner deef 'bout
dat ar prockermation in dese parts."
"No, my man, you can't go with us. We are marching much too rapidly for
you to keep up. Stay here where you are known. Make terms with your
master for wages or share in the crops. If it is necessary, the people
about here will probably soon again hear the proclamation from our
cannon. Mr. Baron, why don't you gain the goodwill of those people and
secure their co-operation? They will be worth more to you as freemen,
and they ARE free. I give you friendly advice. Accept what you can't
help. Adapt yourselves to the new order of things. Any other course
will be just as futile as to resolve solemnly that you will have
nothing to do with steam, but travel as they did in Abraham's time."
Miss Lou looked at her uncle curiously to see how he would take this
advice. His coldness of manner and silence told how utterly lost upon
him it was. The general looked at him a moment, and then said gravely,
"Mr. Baron, such men as you are the enemies of your section, not such
men as I. Good-morning, sir. Good-by, my child. Heaven bless and
protect you!" With a stately bow to Mrs. Whately he departed and was
soon on the ridge again with his men.
"I wonder if Abraham and the Patriarchs would have been any more ready
for the new order of things than uncle?" Miss Lou thought as she went
to find Scoville.
"He down at Aun' Jinkey's cabin. Chunk took he dinner dar," Zany
whispered.
"He des step ter de run ter wash he han's en face," said Aun' Jinkey a
little later.
Passing some screening shrubbery, the girl saw him standing on the spot
from which he had been carried insensible by her directions so brief a
time before. "Your dinner is ready," she called.
He came to her quickly and said, "I've been trying to realize all that
has happened since I fell at your feet yonder."
"Far more has happened to me than to you," she replied. "It seems years
since then; I've seen and learned so much."
"I wish to ask you something," he said earnestly.
"That scamp, Perkins, fired on me at close range. You stood just over
him and I heard what you said. How happened it that his bullet flew so
wide of the mark?"
She began laughing as she asked, "Have you never heard that there was
luck in throwing an old shoe? I hit Perkins over the eyes with one of
mine."
"Took it off and fired it while he was trying to shoot me?"
"Yes."
He seized both her hands and asked, "What will you take for that shoe?"
"What a Yankee you are to ask such a question! It wasn't a shoe; it was
a slipper." "Have you it on now?"
"Yes. What should you want of it?"
"I want to wear it next my heart. Which one was it? Let me see it."
"No; it's old. I haven't any other, and I shall wear it on my right
foot as long as it lasts."
"Please let me see it and take it in my hands just a moment. I may
never have a chance to ask another favor of you."
"Oh, yes, you will. You are coming to see us, and the general has asked
me to visit his daughter after the war is over. Do you think he'll
remember it?"
"The slipper, please."
"How can you ask so absurd a thing?" and a dainty foot was put out a
brief instant before him.
"Oh, you little Cinderella! I wish I was the Prince." He saw something
like a frown gathering on her face. "Don't look that way," he resumed,
"I want to tell you something I've read. I don't remember the words,
but the gist is that a woman never forgets a man on whom she has
bestowed a great kindness. Already I have twice owed my life to you.
You can't forget me. My hope is in what you have done for me, not what
I can do for you. I can think of myself lying dead in front of the
house, I know I am standing here looking into your true, sweet eyes.
Let me look into them a moment, for I have no sister, no mother, no one
in the world that I care for like you. Do not think I am making love. I
may be dead yet before night. But whether I live or die I want you to
remember that there is one human soul that always wishes you well for
your OWN sake, that is wholly and unselfishly devoted to your interests
and happiness."
"There, I'm beginning to cry, and your dinner's getting cold. You must
stop talking so."
"Give me something to carry into battle this afternoon."
She stooped and gathered some wild violets. "There," she said.
"You could not have chosen better. Whenever I see violets hereafter
they shall be your eyes looking at me as you are looking now."
"And--well--you can remember that there is always a little friend in
the South who does care. That's a curious thought about a woman's
caring for those she has--I don't believe a woman can care for any one
and not try to do something for him. Let us just think of ourselves as
friends. It seems to me that I never want to think any other way. Now
you MUST get your dinner. You may be summoned hastily and have no other
chance to-day. After Uncle Lusthah's words last night I'm not going to
have any forebodings."
"Won't you let me call you Miss Lou once before I go?"
"Why not?"
"Well, then, Miss Lou, look in my eyes once more and remember what you
see there. I won't say a word."
She raised hers shyly to his, blushed deeply and turned away, shaking
her head. The power to divine what she saw was born with her.
"Yes, I understand you," he said very gently, "but you can't help it,
any more than the sun's shining. Some day your heart may be cold and
sad, and the memory of what you have just seen may warm and cheer it
Miss Lou, you brave, noble little child-woman, didn't you see that my
love was your servant--that it merely gives you power over me? Even as
my wife you would be as free as I would be. Now good-by. We part here
and not before others. Chunk is yonder with my horse. Be just as happy
as you can whether we ever meet again or not." "Then--then--if you
don't come again?" she faltered.
"I shall be dead, but don't believe this too hastily."
"You've been kind," she burst out passionately, "you've treated me with
respect, as if I had a right to myself. You have saved me from what I
dreaded far worse than death. You shall not go away, perhaps to die,
without--without--without--oh, think of me only as a grateful child
whose life you've kept from being spoiled."
"I shall not go away without--what?" he asked eagerly.
"Oh, I don't know. What shall I say? My heart aches as if it would
break at the thought of anything happening to you." She dropped on the
grass and, burying her face in her hands, sobbed aloud.
He knelt beside her and sought to take one of her hands.
Suddenly she hid her face against his breast for a moment and faltered,
"Love me as a child NOW and leave me."
"You have given me my orders, little girl, and they would be obeyed as
far as you could see were I with you every day."
"Lieutenant Scoville!" shouted the distant voice of an orderly. He
hastily kissed away the tears in her eyes, exclaiming, "Never doubt my
return, if living," and was gone.
In a moment he had passed through the shrubbery. Before she had
regained self-control and followed he was speeding his horse toward the
ridge. "There, he has gone without his dinner," she said in strong
self-reproach, hastening to the cabin. Chunk, who was stuffing a
chicken and cornbread into a haversack, reassured her. "Doan you worry,
Miss Lou," he said. "Dis yere chicken gwine ter foller 'im right slam
troo eberyting till hit cotch up," and he galloped after his new "boss"
in a way to make good his words.