A BACKGROUND OF EGOTISM
When Miss Lou returned to the house supper was ready and she sat down
weary, saddened and preoccupied by the scenes she had witnessed.
"You are going beyond your strength," said Captain Maynard, who had
watched her coming back from the Federal wounded. "Cannot you be
content to confine your ministrations to your friends only?"
"For once I can agree with Captain Maynard," Whately added stiffly. "I
don't think it's right for you, cousin, to be going among those rough,
brutal fellows."
Instantly her anger flamed at the injustice of the remark and she
answered hotly, "I've found no rough, brutal fellows among the Yankees."
All smiled at her words, and Ackley remarked to one of the Union
surgeons, "Dr. Borden, I thought our men could hold their own pretty
well with the Army in Flanders, but you Yanks, I reckon, surpass all
military organizations, past or present. There was one man especially
who fairly made the night lurid and left a sulphurous odor after him
when he was brought in. It would be rather rough on us all if we were
where he consigned us with a vim that was startling. I certainly hope
that Miss Baron is not compelled to hear any such language."
"I appeal to Miss Baron herself," said Dr. Borden, "if she has been
offended in this respect to-day?"
"No, indeed, I have not," replied the girl indignantly. "I never was
treated with more courtesy. I have not heard a rough word from the
Yankees even when they did not know I was near, and that is more than I
can say of our own men. Fight the Yankees all you please, but don't do
them injustice."
In spite of the girl's flushed, incensed face, there was an explosion
of laughter. "Pardon me, Miss Baron," said Ackley, "but you can't know
how droll your idea of injustice to the Yankees seems to us. That you
have such an idea, however, is a credit to you and to them also, for
they must have been behaving themselves prodigiously."
"Yes, Dr. Ackley," replied Borden emphatically, "Miss Baron's
impressions ARE a credit to her and to my patients. They promptly
recognized her motives and character, and for her sake they pledged
themselves that while here, where she is one of the nurses, they would
not use language at any time which they would not have their mothers
hear. That very man you speak of, who swore so last night, believes
himself dying from his effort at self-restraint. This is not true, for
he would have died anyhow, but his death is hastened by his effort. He
has been in agony all day. Opiates make him worse, so there is no use
of giving them. But I can tell you, no man in your Confederacy ever did
a braver thing than he is doing this minute to show his respect for
this young lady who has shown kindness to his comrades. I can assure
you, Lieutenant Whately, that you need have no fears about your cousin
when visiting my patients."
"What's the name of the soldier of whom you speak?" Miss Lou asked
eagerly.
"He is called Yarry. I don't know any other name yet--been so busy
dressing wounds."
"Thank you," faltered the girl, rising, her face showing signs of
strong emotion.
"Oh, Louise! finish your supper," expostulated Mrs. Whately. "You must
not let these scenes take so strong a hold"--but she was out of
hearing. "I fear it's all going to be too much for her," sighed the
lady in conclusion.
Mr. Baron and his wife exchanged grim glances from the head and foot of
the table, as much as to say, "She has shaken off our control and we
are not responsible," but Ackley remarked, "I agree with you, Dr.
Borden, that it's fine to see a girl show such a spirit, and I
congratulate you that your men are capable of appreciating it. By the
way, Mrs. Whately, I have put her, with you, in charge of young Waldo
and truly hope that among us we can bring him through."
"Mrs. Whately," said Captain Maynard, "I reckon more than one of us
begin to regret already that we were not so desperately wounded as to
need your attention and that of Miss Baron. We must remember, however,
that she is not accustomed to these scenes, and I think we must try to
make her forget them at the table. I suppose in the kindness of her
heart she is now crying in her room over that Yankee." Whately shot a
savage glance at the speaker which plainly implied, "It's none of your
business where she is." Suddenly rising, he departed also, his mother's
eyes following him anxiously.
Miss Lou was not crying in her room. As the level rays of the sun shone
into the wide old barn, making the straw in a mow doubly golden, and
transforming even the dusty cobwebs into fairy lacework, she crossed
the threshold and paused for the first time in her impulsive haste to
find and thank the dying man of whom she had been told. All eyes turned
wonderingly toward her as she stood for a moment in the sunshine, as
unconscious of herself, of the marvellous touch of beauty bestowed by
the light and her expression, as if she had flown from the skies.
"Is there a soldier here named Yarry?" she began, then uttered a little
inarticulate cry as she saw Captain Hanfield kneeling beside a man to
whom all eyes directed her. "Oh, it's he," she sobbed, kneeling beside
him also. "As soon as I heard I felt it was he who told me not to worry
about him. Is--is he really dying?"
"Yes, I hope so, Miss Baron," replied the captain gravely. "He couldn't
live and it's time he had rest."
The girl bent over the man, her hot tears falling on his face. He
opened his eyes and looked vacantly at her for a moment or two, then
smiled in recognition. It was the most pathetic smile she had ever
imagined. "Don't worry," he whispered, "I'm just dozin' off."
"Oh, my poor, brave hero!" she said brokenly, "I know, I know it all.
God reward you, I can't."
"Don't want no reward. I be--say, miss, don't wear--yourself--out fer
us."
She took his cold hand and bowed her forehead upon it, sobbing aloud in
the overpowering sense of his self-forgetfulness. "O God!" she cried,
"do for this brave, unselfish man what I cannot. When, WHEN can I
forget such a thing as this! Oh, live, please live; we will take such
good care of you."
"There, there, little one, don't--take on--so about--me. Ain't wuth it.
I be--Say, I feel better--easier. Glad--you spoke--good word to
God--for me. I be--I mean, I think--He'll hear--sech as you. I'm--off
now. Don't--wear--yourself--"
Even in her inexperience she saw that he was dying, and when his
gasping utterance ceased she had so supported his head that it fell
back on her bosom. For a few moments she just cried helplessly, blinded
with tears. Then she felt the burden of his head removed and herself
lifted gently.
"I suspected something like this when you left the table, Miss Baron,"
said Dr. Borden.
"Oh, oh, oh, I feel as if he had died for me," she sobbed.
"He would a died for you, miss," said Tom, drawing his sleeve across
his eyes, "so would we all."
"Miss Baron," resumed the doctor gravely, "remember poor Yarry's last
words, 'Don't wear yourself--he couldn't finish the sentence, but you
know what he meant. You must grant the request of one who tried to do
what he could for you. As a physician also I must warn you to rest
until morning. You can do more for these men and others by first doing
as Yarry wished," and he led her away.
They had not gone far before they met Uncle Lusthah. The girl stopped
and said, "Doctor, won't you let Uncle Lusthah bury him to-morrow down
by the run? I'll show him the place."
"Yes, Miss Baron, we all will do anything you wish if you only rest
to-night. I tell you frankly you endanger yourself and your chance to
do anything more for the wounded by continuing the strain which these
scenes put upon you."
"I reckon you're right," she said, "I feel as if I could hardly stand."
"I know. Take my arm and go at once to your room."
On the way they encountered Whately. "Cousin! where on earth have you
been? You look ready to faint."
His presence and all that he implied began to steady her nerves at
once, but she made no reply.
"She has witnessed a painful scene, Lieutenant," began the surgeon.
"You have no business to permit her to witness such scenes," Whately
interrupted sternly. "You should see that she's little more than an
inexperienced child and--"
"Hush, sir," said Miss Lou. "Who has given you the right to dictate to
me or to this gentleman? I'm in no mood for any more such words,
cousin. To-day, at least, no one has taken advantage of my
inexperience. Good-evening," and she passed on, leaving him chafing in
impatient anger and protest.
At the house Mrs. Whately began expostulations also, but the girl said,
"Please don't talk to me now. By and by I will tell you what will touch
all the woman in your heart."
"I earnestly suggest," added Dr. Borden, "that you take Miss Baron to
her room, and that nothing more be said to disturb her. She is
overwrought and has reached the limit of endurance."
The lady had the tact to acquiesce at once. After reaching her room
Miss Lou exclaimed, "But I have not been to young Waldo."
"I have," replied her aunt, "and will see him again more than once
before I retire. Louise, if you would not become a burden yourself at
this time you must do as the doctor says."
Within an hour the girl was sleeping and her nature regaining the
strength and elasticity of youth.
As Whately stood fuming where his cousin had left him, Perkins
approached for the first time since they had parted in anger the night
before.
"I reck'n Miss Baron's gone over ter the inemy," remarked the overseer.
"What do you mean?"
"Look yere, Leftenant, what's the use o' you bein' so gunpowdery with
me? What's the use, I say? I mout be of some use ter you ef you wuz
civil."
"Of what use were you last night? You allowed my prisoner to be carried
off right under your nose."
"Who carried 'im off? Answer that."
"Why, some gawk of a Yank that you were too stupid to tell from me."
"P'raps hit was, p'raps hit wasn't."
"Who else could it be?"
"I s'picion who it was, but I'm not goin' ter talk to one who's got
nothin' better to give me 'n uggly words."
"You don't mean to say--"
"I don't mean to say nothin' till I know who I'm talkin' ter."
Whately gave a long, low whistle and then muttered "Impossible!"
"Oh, sut'ny," remarked Perkins ironically.
The two men gave each other a long searching look; then Perkins
resumed, "That's right, Leftenant, take yer bearin's. I don't see ez
you kin do me any special good, ner harm nuther. Ef yer want no news or
help from me, we kin sheer off right yere en now."
"I say your suspicion is absurd," resumed Whately, as if arguing with
himself. "When the alarm, caused by firing, came last night, it
happened she was in her room and was badly frightened."
"What time did the alarm happen?"
"About two o'clock."
"Wal, about midnight a figger that favored you 'mazingly, yes, ter yer
very walk, came up boldly en sez ter me, nodding at the Yank, 'Leave
'im ter me.' The figger wasn't jes' dressed like you in 'Federate
uniform, but I kin a'most swear the figger had on them clo's and that
hat you're a wearin' now; arm in sling, too. What's mo', when I thought
hit over I was cock sure the figger wuz shorter'n you air. I don't
believe there's a Yank livin' that could a fooled me last night, 'less
he had yer clo's on en yer walk."
"My uniform and hat hung on the chairs beside me, just where they had
been put when I went to sleep."
"Jes' tell me ef the do' o' yer room wuz locked."
"I wasn't in a room. I slept at the end of the hall."
"Then enybody could git 'em en put 'em back while you wuz asleep."
"She couldn't knock you senseless. You're talking wild."
"I've schemed that out. Thar's tracks in the gyardin not so blinded but
they kin give a hint ter a blind hoss. Thar's a track nigh whar I fell
mighty like what that infernal nigger Chunk ud make. Beyond, ez ef some
uns had hidden in the bushes, right in the gyarden bed, air two little
woman-like tracks en two men tracks."
Whately ground his teeth and muttered an oath.
"I don't s'pose I kin prove anything 'clusive," resumed Perkins, "en I
don't s'pose it ud be best ef I could. Ef she was up ter such deviltry,
of co'se you don't want hit gen'ly known. Bigger ossifers 'n you ud
have ter notice it. Ef I was in yu shoes howsomever, in huntin' shy
game, I could use sech a clar s'picion agin her en be mo' on my gyard
inter the bargain."
"I can use it and will," said Whately, sternly. "Perkins, keep your
eyes wide open in my behalf. If that Yankee or Chunk ever come within
our reach again--the nigger stole my horse and brought the Yank here
too in time to prevent the wedding, I believe."
"Reck'n he did, Leftenant."
"Well, he and his master may be within our reach again. We had better
not be seen much together. I will reward you well for any real
service," and he strode away in strong perturbation.
"Hang your reward," muttered Perkins. "You think you're goin' ter use
me when the boot's on t'other foot. You shall pay me fer doin' my work.
I couldn't wish the gal nuthin' worse than ter marry you. That ud
satisfy my grudge agin her, but ef I get my claws on that nigger en
dom'neerin' Yank of a master"--his teeth came together after the grim
fashion of a bulldog, by way of completing his soliloquy.
The spring evening deepened from twilight into dusk, the moon rose and
shone with mild radiance over the scene that had abounded in gloom,
tragedy and adventure the night before. The conflict which then had
taken place now caused the pathetic life-and-death struggles occurring
in and about the old mansion. In the onset of battle muscle and the
impulse to destroy dominated; now the heart, with its deep longings,
its memories of home and kindred, the soul with its solemn thoughts of
an unknown phase of life which might be near, came to the fore,
rendering the long, doubtful straggle complex indeed.
The stillness was broken only by the steps and voices of attendants and
the irrepressible groans of those who watched for the day with hope
that waxed and waned as the case might be. Uncle Lusthah yearned over
the Federal wounded with a great pity, the impression that they were
suffering for him and his people banishing sleep. He hovered among them
all night long, bringing water to fevered lips and saying a word of
Christian cheer to any who would listen.
Miss Lou wakened with the dawn and recognized with gladness that her
strength and courage for work had been restored. Even more potent than
thoughts of Scoville was the impulse to be at work again, especially
among those with whom she inevitably associated him. Dressing hastily,
she went first to see the old Confederate colonel. He was evidently
failing fast Ackley and an attendant were watching him. He looked at
the girl, smiled and held out his hand. She took it and sat down beside
him.
"Ah!" he said feebly, "this is a good deal better than dying alone.
Would you mind, my child, writing some things I would like to say to my
family?"
Miss Lou brought her portfolio and tearfully received his dying
messages.
"Poor little girl!" said the colonel, "you are witnessing scenes very
strange to you. Try to keep your heart tender and womanly, no matter
what you see. Such tears as yours reveal the power to help and bless,
not weakness. I can say to YOU all the sacred, farewell words which
would be hard to speak to others."
Brokenly, with many pauses from weakness, he dictated his last letter,
and she wrote his words as well as she could see to do so. "They will
be all the sweeter and more soothing for your tears, my dear," he said.
He kept up with wonderful composure until he came to his message to
"little Hal," his youngest child. Then the old soldier broke down and
reached out his arms in vain yet irrepressible longing. "Oh, if I could
kiss the little fellow just once before--" he moaned.
For a few moments he and the girl at his side just wept together, and
then the old man said almost sternly, "Tell him to honor his mother and
his God, to live for the South, for which his father died. Say, if he
will do this he shall have my blessing, not without. Now, my child, I
trust this letter to you. Good-by and God bless you. I wish to be alone
a little while and face the last enemy calmly."
As she knelt down and kissed him tears again rushed to his eyes and he
murmured, "That was good and sweet of you, my child. Keep your heart
simple and tender as it is now. Good-by."
Returning to her room with the portfolio she met her cousin in the
upper hall. He fixed his eyes searchingly upon her and with the air of
one who knew very much began, "Cousin Lou, my eyes are not so often
blinded with tears as yours, yet they see more perhaps than you are
aware of. I'm willing to woo you as gallantly as can any man, but
you've got to keep some faith with me as the representative of our
house and of the cause which, as a Southern girl, should be first
always in its claims."
Her heart fluttered, for his words suggested both knowledge and a
menace. At the same time the scenes she had passed through, especially
the last, lifted her so far above his plane of life that she shrank
from him with something very like contempt.
"Do you know what I have been writing?" she asked sternly.
"I neither know nor care. I only wish you to understand that you cannot
trifle with me nor wrong me with impunity."
"Oh!" she cried, with a strong repellant gesture, "why can't YOU see
and understand? You fairly make me loathe the egotism which, in scenes
like these, can think only of self. As if I had either time or
inclination to be trifling with you, whatever you mean by that. Brave
men are dying heroically and unselfishly, thinking of others, while 'I,
me and gallant wooing,' combined with vague threats against one whom
you are in honor bound to protect, are the only words on your lips. How
can you be so unmanly? What are you, compared with that noble old
colonel whose last words I have just received? If you care a straw for
my opinion, why are you so foolish as to compel me to draw comparisons?
Do, for manhood's sake, forget yourself for once."
He was almost livid from rage as he replied harshly, "You'll rue these
words!"
She looked at him scornfully as she said, "It's strange, but your words
and expression remind me of Perkins. He might make you a good ally."
In his confusion and anger he blurted out, "Little wonder you think of
him. You and that accursed nigger, Chunk--"
"Hush!" she interrupted in a low, imperious voice, "hush, lest as
representative of our house you disgrace yourself beyond hope." And she
passed quickly to her room.
Within less than an hour he was asking himself in bitter
self-upbraiding, "What have I gained? What can I do? Prefer charges
against my own cousin which I cannot prove? Impossible!--Oh, I've been
a fool again. I should have kept that knowledge secret till I could use
it for a definite purpose. I'll break her spirit yet."
If he had seen her after she reached her room he might have thought it
broken then. Vague dread of the consequences of an act which, from his
words, she believed he knew far more about than he did, mingled with
her anger and feelings of repugnance. "Oh," she moaned, "it was just
horrible; it was coming straight down from the sublime to the
contemptible. That noble old colonel took me to the very gate of
heaven. Now I'm fairly trembling with passion and fear. Oh, why will
Cousin Mad always stir up the very worst of my feelings! I'd rather
suffer and die as poor Yarry did than marry a man who WILL think only
of his little self at such a time as this!"