AT THE STAFF OFFICERS' BALL
THE young officer glanced up hastily at sound of approaching footsteps,
and rose to his feet to permit of my passage. He wore the full dress
uniform of an artilleryman, and his evident surprise at my presence made
me realize the necessity of addressing him.
“Lieutenant,” I asked courteously, resting one hand easily upon the
balustrade, “could you inform me if General Sheridan and those members
of the staff who accompanied him down the lines this afternoon have yet
returned?”
“They have not, sir.”
“Ah, I was in hopes they might have arrived by this time. I see that you
belong to my branch of the service. May I inquire your battery?”
He flushed with pleasure at the delicate flattery of my tone, and in
true soldierly pride of his corps.
“B, Fifth New Jersey, sir.”
“I think I remember them in action--no better command in the service.
You were at Gettysburg?”
“On Seminary Ridge, sir. It was my first battle.”
“A hard baptism of fire, indeed, yet a remembrance you will long be
proud to recall. I thank you for your courtesy.”
I bowed to them both, and passed slowly down the wide stairway, several
couples rising as I drew near to permit of my passage. The intense
excitement of the strange adventure had by this time become a positive
delight. My cheek flushed, my eyes kindled as though new blood flowed in
my veins.
“Ah!” I thought to myself proudly, “what a story it will all make for
the camp-fire, and if I reach Lee in time the tale of this night will be
upon the lips of all the army.”
The lower hall was very comfortably filled with figures moving here and
there in converse, or occupying seats pressed close against the walls.
The greater portion were attired in uniforms of the various branches
of service, yet I observed not a few civilian suits, and a considerable
number of women, some wearing the neat dress of the army nurse, others
much more elaborately attired--daughters of the neighborhood, probably,
with a sprinkling of wives and sisters of the soldiery. Guards, leaning
upon their muskets, stood in statuesque poses on either side of the main
entrance, while the wide archway, draped with flags, opening into the
ballroom, revealed an inspiring glimpse of swiftly revolving figures
in gay uniforms and flashing skirts. Over all floated the low, swinging
music of the band.
All this I noted as I paused irresolutely on the lower stair, wondering
if I could safely walk directly out of that front door, ignoring the
sentries by right of the uniform I wore, and thus attain the open air.
The constant haunting fear of the early return of Sheridan and his
aides, or a possible encounter with some former acquaintance in that
crushing throng, almost decided me upon venturing the passage. But
already I had hesitated too long. A fat, good-natured-looking man of
forty, an infantry major, but wearing staff decorations, and evidently
officiating in the capacity of floor-manager, after whispering a word
in the ear of another of the same kind beside the ballroom door, hastily
pushed his way through the laughing throng directly toward me.
“Good-evening, Colonel,” he said, bowing deeply. “Your face is not
familiar to me, but you will permit me to introduce myself--Major
Monsoon, of General Sheridan's staff.”
I accepted the fat, shapeless hand he extended, and pressed it warmly.
“I was just meditating a retreat, Major, when you appeared,” I replied
frankly. “For I fear my face is equally unknown to all others present.
Indeed, I feel like a cat in a strange garret, and hesitated to
appear at all. My only excuse for doing so was a promise made Colonel
Culbertson previous to his being ordered out on duty. I am Colonel
Curran, of the Sixth Ohio, but at present serving on the staff of
General Halleck at Washington.”
The Major's round, red face glowed with welcome.
“Extremely pleased to meet you, indeed,” he exclaimed eagerly, “and you
may be sure of a most cordial greeting. Will you kindly step this way?”
As we slowly elbowed our way forward, all desire to escape from the
ordeal fled, and I assumed the risks of the masquerade with the reckless
audacity of my years. Before we reached the ballroom my conductor, his
fat countenance fairly beaming with cordiality, had stopped at least
twenty times to present me to various military titles, and I had
accepted innumerable invitations without in the least knowing who gave
them, or where they were to be fulfilled. Finally, however, we broke
through the massed ring, and succeeded in reaching the tall individual
in spectacles to whom the Major had spoken previous to seeking me, and
I learned through the introduction which followed that I was in the
presence of Brigadier-General Carlton, chief of staff.
For a moment, as I responded to the hearty cordiality of his welcome, I
was enabled to take my first glance at the ballroom, and found it to
my unaccustomed soldier eyes an inspiring spectacle. The room was
magnificently large,--a surprising apartment, indeed, even in so superb
a Southern home as this had evidently been, and its proportions were
magnified by numerous mirrors extending from floor to ceiling, causing
the more distant dancers to appear circling in space. Brilliantly
illumined by means of hanging chandeliers that oscillated slightly to
the merry feet; decorated lavishly everywhere with festooned flags and
tastefully arranged munitions of war; gay with the dress uniforms of
the men and the handsome gowns of the women, it composed a scene so
different from any I had looked upon in years as to hold me fascinated.
The constant clatter of tongues, the merry laughter, the flashing
of bright eyes, and the gleam of snowy shoulders, the good-humored
repartees caught as the various couples circled swiftly past, the quick,
musical gliding of flying feet over the waxen floor, the continuous
whirl of the intoxicating waltz, and over all the inspiring strains of
Strauss, caused my heart to bound, and brought with it an insane desire
to participate.
Yet gazing, entranced, upon the animated scene, and feeling deeply the
intoxication of the moment, my eyes were eagerly searching that happy
throng for sight of one fair woman's face. Strange as it must seem to
others, in spite of the fact that to meet her might mean betrayal
and death--ay! might even result in the destruction of an army--in my
weakness I secretly longed for just such a happening; felt, indeed, that
I must again see her, have speech with her, before I went forth alone
into the manifold dangers of the night. It was foolhardiness,--insanity
in very truth,--yet such was the secret yearning of my heart. If I
could only once know, know from her own truthful lips, that she already
belonged to another, I could, I believed, tear her image from my memory;
but while I yet doubted (and in spite of all I had heard I doubted
still), no desperate case should ever prevent my seeking her with all
the mad ardor of love, no faintness of heart should intervene between
us. That she was present I knew from those chance words overheard in the
chimney, and my one deep hope ever since I donned that Federal uniform
and ventured down the stairs (a hope most oddly mingled with dread)
was that we might in some manner be brought together. I was yet vainly
seeking a glimpse of her among the many who circled past, when I was
suddenly recalled to the extreme delicacy of my situation by the deep
voice of the Major asking me a direct question:
“Do you ever dance, Colonel?”
Exactly what I may have replied I know not, but it was evidently
translated as an affirmative, for in another moment I was being
piloted down the side of the long room, while he gossiped in my rather
inattentive ear.
“As you have doubtless remarked, Colonel, we are extremely fortunate in
our ladies to-night. By Jove, they would grace an inauguration ball at
Washington. So many officers' wives have joined us lately, supposing
we would make permanent camp here, and besides there are more loyal
families in this neighborhood than we find usually. At least their
loyalty is quite apparent while, we remain. Then the General Hospital
nurses are not especially busy,--no battle lately, you know,--and there
are some deuced pretty girls among them. Ballroom looks nice, don't you
think?”
“Extremely well; the decorations are in most excellent taste.”
“Entirely the work of the staff. Great pity so many were compelled to be
absent, but a soldier can never tell. Here upon special duty, Colonel?”
“I brought despatches from the President to General Sheridan.”
“Wish you might remain with us permanently. Your command, I believe, is
not connected with our Eastern army?”
“No, with Thomas in the Cumberland.”
“Ah, yes; had some very pretty fighting out there, I understand--oh,
pardon me, Miss Minor, permit me to present to you Colonel Curran, of
General Halleck's staff. The Colonel, I believe, is as able a dancer
as he is a soldier, and no higher compliment to his abilities could
possibly be paid. Miss Minor, Colonel, is a native Virginian, who is
present under protest, hoping doubtless to capture some young officer,
and thus weaken the enemy.”
I bowed pleasantly to the bright-eyed young woman facing me, and not
sorry to escape the Major's inquisitiveness, at once begged for the
remainder of the waltz. The request was laughingly granted, and in
another moment we were threading our way amid the numerous couples
upon the floor. She proved so delightful a dancer that I simply yielded
myself up to full enjoyment of the measure, and conversation lapsed,
until a sudden cessation of the music left us stranded so close to the
fireplace that the very sight of it brought a vivid realization of my
perilous position. If it had not, my companion's chance remark most
assuredly would.
“How easily you waltz!” she said enthusiastically, her sparkling eyes
and flushed cheeks testifying to her keen enjoyment. “So many find me
difficult to keep step with that I have become fearful of venturing upon
the floor with a stranger. However, I shall always be glad to give you a
character to any of my friends.”
“I sincerely thank you,” I returned in the same spirit, “and I can
certainly return the compliment most heartily. It is so long since I was
privileged to dance with a lady that I confess to having felt decidedly
awkward at the start, but your step proved so accommodating that I
became at once at home, and enjoyed the waltz immensely. I fail to
discover any seats in the room, or I should endeavor to find one vacant
for you.”
“Oh, I am not in the least tired.” She was looking at me with so deep an
expression of interest in her eyes that I dimly wondered at it.
“Did I understand rightly,” she asked, playing idly with her fan,
“that Major Monsoon introduced you to me as Colonel Curran of General
Halleck's staff?”
What the deuce am I up against now? I thought, and my heart beat
quickly. Yet retreat was impossible, and I answered with assumed
carelessness:
“I am, most assuredly, Colonel Curran.”
“From Ohio?”
This was certainly coming after me with a vengeance, and I stole one
quick glance at the girl's face. It was devoid of suspicion, merely
evincing a polite interest.
“I have the honor of commanding the Sixth Artillery Regiment from that
State.”
“You must pardon me, Colonel, for my seeming inquisitiveness,” and her
eyes sparkled with demure mischief. “Yet I cannot quite understand.
I was at school in Connecticut with a Miss Curran whose father was an
officer of artillery from Ohio, and, naturally, I at once thought of her
when the Major pronounced your name; yet it certainly cannot be you--you
are altogether too young, for Myrtle must be eighteen.”
I laughed, decidedly relieved from what I feared might prove a most
awkward situation.
“Well, yes, Miss Minor, I am indeed somewhat youthful to be Myrtle's
father,” I said at a venture, “but I might serve as her brother, you
know, and not stretch the point of age over-much.”
She clasped her hands on my arm with a gesture of delight.
“Oh, I am so glad; I knew Myrtle had a brother, but never heard he also
was in the army. Did you know, Colonel, she was intending to come down
here with me when I returned South, at the close of our school year, but
from some cause was disappointed. How delighted she would have been
to meet you! I shall certainly write and tell her what a splendidly
romantic time we had together. You look so much like Myrtle I wonder I
failed to recognize you at once.”
She was rattling on without affording me the slightest opportunity to
slip in a word explanatory, when her glance chanced to fall upon some
one who was approaching us through the throng.
“Oh, by the way, Colonel, there is another of Myrtle's old schoolmates
present to-night--a most intimate friend, indeed, who would never
forgive me if I permitted you to go without meeting her.”
She drew me back hastily.
“Edith,” she said, touching the sleeve of a young woman who was
slowly passing, “Edith, wait just a moment, dear; this is Colonel
Curran--Myrtle Curran's brother, you know. Colonel Curran, Mrs.
Brennan.”