IRVING STANLEY
He had come, and up in the chamber where 'Lina died, was making the
toilet necessary after his hot dusty ride. Hugh, heartily ashamed of his
conduct for the last two days, had received him most cordially, meeting
him at the gate, and holding him by the hand, as they walked together to
the house, where Mrs. Worthington stood waiting for him, her lips
quivering, and tears dimming her eyes, as she said to him: "Yes, 'Lina
is dead."
Irving had heard as much at the depot, and heard, too, a strange story,
the truth of which he greatly doubted. Mrs. Worthington had been 'Lina's
mother, he believed, and his sympathy went out toward her at once,
making him forget that Alice was not there to meet him, as he half
expected she would be, although they were really comparative strangers.
It was not until a rather late hour that Alice joined him, sitting upon
the cool piazza, with Hugh as his companion. In summer Alice always wore
white, and now, as she came tripping down the long piazza, her muslin
dress floating about her like a snowy mist, her fair hair falling softly
about her face and on her neck, a few geranium leaves twined among the
glossy curls, and her lustrous eyes sparkling with excitement, both
Irving Stanley and Hugh held their breath and watched her as she came,
the one jealously and half angry that she was so beautiful, the other
admiringly and with a feeling of wonder at the beauty he had never seen
surpassed.
Alice was perfectly self-possessed, and greeted Mr. Stanley as she would
have greeted any friend--and she was glad to see him--spoke of Saratoga,
and then inquired for Mrs. Ellsworth about whom poor 'Lina had talked so
much.
Mrs. Ellsworth was well, Irving said, though very busy with her
preparations for going to Europe, adding "it was not so much pleasure
which was taking her there as by the hope that by some of the Paris
physicians her little deformed Jennie might be benefited. She had
secured a gem of a governess for her daughter, a young lady whom he had
not yet seen, but over whose beauty and accomplishments his staid sister
Carrie had really waxed eloquent."
Hugh cared nothing for that governess, and after a little, thinking he
was not wanted, stole quietly away, and being moodily inclined, rambled
off to 'Lina's grave, half wishing, as he stood there in the moonlight,
that he, too, was lying beside it.
"Were I sure of heaven, it would be a blessed thing to die," he thought,
"for this world has little in it to make me happy. Oh, Alice, Golden
Hair, I could almost wish we had never met, though, as I told her once,
I would rather have loved and lost her than never have loved her at
all."
Poor Hugh! He was mistaken with regard to Alice. She was not listening
to love words. She was telling Irving Stanley as much of 'Lina's sad
story as she thought necessary, and Irving, though really interested,
was, we must confess, too intent on watching the changing expressions of
her beautiful face to comprehend it clearly in all its complicated
parts.
He understood that 'Lina was not, and that a certain Adah Hastings was,
Mrs. Worthington's child; understood, too, that Adah was the wife of Dr.
Richards--that she had at some time, not quite clear to him, been at
Terrace Hill, but he somehow received the impression that she eventually
fled from Spring Bank after recognizing the doctor, and never once
thought of associating her with the young woman to whom, many months
previously, he had been so kind in the crowded car, and whose sad, brown
eyes had haunted him at intervals ever since.
Irving Stanley was not what could well be called fickle. He admired
ladies indiscriminately, respected them all, liked some very much, and
next to Alice was more attracted by and pleased with Adah's face than
any he had ever seen save that of "the Brownie," which seemed to him
much like it. He had thought of Adah often, but had as often associated
her with some tall, bewhiskered man, who loved her and her little boy as
she deserved to be loved. With this idea constantly before him, Adah had
gradually faded from his mind, leaving there only the image of one who
had made the strongest impression upon him of any whom he yet had met.
Alice Johnson, she was the star he followed now, hers the presence which
would make that projected tour through Europe all sunshine. Irving had
decided to be married; his mother said he ought; Augusta said he ought;
Mrs. Ellsworth said he ought; and so, as Hugh suspected, he had come to
Kentucky for the sole purpose of asking Alice to be his wife. At sight,
however, of Hugh, so much improved, so gentlemanly, and so fine looking,
his heart began to misgive him, and Hugh would have been surprised could
he have known that Irving Stanley was as jealous of him as he was of
Irving Stanley. Yet, such was the fact, and it was a hard matter to tell
which was the more miserable of the two, Irving or Hugh, when at last
the latter returned from 'Lina's grave, and seated himself upon the
moon-lighted piazza, a little apart from the lovers, as he believed
Irving and Alice to be.
By mutual consent the conversation turned upon the war, and Alice could
scarcely forbear laying her hand in Hugh's in token of approbation as
she watched the glow of enthusiasm kindling in his cheek, and the fire
of patriotism flashing from his dark, handsome eyes.
"I wonder, with your strong desire to punish the South, that you are not
in the field," Irving said, a little dryly, for though not a sympathizer
with the rebellion, he was a Baltimorean, and not yet quite as much
aroused as Hugh, who replied at once:
"And so I should have been, but for circumstances I could not control. I
shall soon start in quest of my sister, and when she is found I shall
volunteer at once, fighting like a blood-hound, until some ball strikes
me down."
This he said savagely, and partly for Alice's benefit; never, however,
glancing at her, and so he failed to see the sudden pallor on her cheek,
as she heard, in fancy, the whizzing of the ball which was to lay that
stalwart form in the dust.
"No, sir," Hugh continued fiercely, "it's not for lack of will that I am
not with them to-day; and, I assure you, nothing could take me to Europe
at such a time as this, unless I went to be rid of the trouble," and
springing from his chair, Hugh strode up and down the piazza, chafing
like a caged lion, while Irving Stanley's face flushed faintly at the
insinuation he could not help understand, and Alice looked surprised
that Hugh should so far have forgotten his position as host.
The same thought came to Hugh at last, and turning suddenly in his walk,
he confronted Irving Stanley, and offering him his hand, said:
"Forgive me, sir, for my rudeness. When I get upon the war, I grow too
much excited. I knew you were from Baltimore, and I was fearful you
might uphold that infernal mob which murdered the brave Massachusetts
boys. I could lay that city in ashes."
Irving took the offered hand, and answered, good humoredly:
"That would punish the innocent as well as the guilty, so I am not with
you there, though, like you, I recoil in horror from the perpetration of
that fiendish attack upon peaceable troops. I was there myself, and did
what I could to quiet the tumult, receiving more than one brickbat for
my interference. One word more, Cousin Hugh, I am not going to Europe to
be rid of the trouble, or for pleasure either, but as my sister's
escort. I do not yet see that my country needs me; when I do I shall
come home and join the Union army. We may meet yet on some battlefield,
and if we do you will see I am no coward or traitor either."
Alice's face was white now as marble, and her breath came hurriedly. The
war, before so far off, seemed very near--a terrible reality, when those
two young men talked of standing side by side on some field of carnage.
Hugh noticed her now, and attributing her emotions wholly to her fears
for Irving Stanley, wrung the hand of the latter and then walked away,
half wishing that the leafy woods beyond the distant fields were so many
human beings and he was one of them, marching on to duty.
In this quiet way two days went by, Irving Stanley, quiet, pleasant,
gentlemanly, and winning all hearts by his extreme suavity of manner;
Hugh, silent, fitful, moody; Alice, artificially gay, and even merry,
trying so hard to make up Hugh's deficiencies, that she led poor Irving
astray, and made him honestly believe she might be won. It was on the
morning of the third day that he resolved to end the uncertainty, and
know just how she regarded him. Hugh had gone to Frankfort, he supposed;
Mrs. Worthington was suffering from a nervous headache, while Densie, as
usual, sat in her own room, mostly silent, but occasionally whispering
to herself, "White nigger, white nigger--that's me!" Apparently it was
the best opportunity he could have, and joining Alice in the large, cool
parlor, he seated himself beside her, and with the thought that nothing
was gained by waiting, plunged at once into his subject.
"Alice," he began, "I must leave here to-morrow, and the business on
which I came is not yet transacted. Can't you guess what it is? Has not
my manner told you why I came to Kentucky?"
Alice was far too truthful to affect ignorance, and though it cost her a
most painful effort to do so, she answered, frankly: "I think I can
guess."
"And you will not tell me no?" Irving said, involuntarily winding his
arm around her, and drawing her drooping head nearer to him.
Just then a shadow fell upon them, but neither noticed it, or dreamed of
the tall form passing the window and pausing long enough to see Irving
Stanley's arm around Alice's neck, to hear Irving Stanley as he
continued: "Darling Alice, you will be my wife?"
The rest was lost to Hugh, who had not yet started for Frankfort, as
Irving supposed. With every faculty paralyzed save that of locomotion,
he hurried away to where Rocket stood waiting for him, and mounting his
pet, went dashing across the fields, conscious of nothing save that
Golden Hair was lost forever. In his rapid walk down the piazza he had
not observed Old Sam, seated in the door, nor heard the mumbled words,
"Poor Massa Hugh! I'se berry sorry for him, berry! I kinder thought,
'fore t'other chap comed, Miss Ellis was hankerin' after him a little.
Poor Massa Hugh!"
Old Sam, like Hugh, had heard Irving Stanley's impassioned words, for
the window nearby was opened wide; he had seen, too, the deadly pallor
on Hugh's face, and how for an instant he staggered, as from a blow,
covering his eyes with his hands and whispering as he passed the negro,
"Oh, Alice, Golden Hair!"
All this Sam had witnessed, and in his sympathy for "Massa Hugh" he
failed to hear the rest of Irving's wooing, or Alice's low-spoken
answer. She could not be Irving Stanley's wife. She made him understand
that, and then added, sadly: "I am sorry I cannot love you as I ought,
for I well know the meed of gratitude I owe to one who saved my life,
and I have wanted so much to thank you, only you did not seem to
remember me at all."
In blank amazement Mr. Stanley asked her what she meant, while Alice,
equally amazed, replied: "Surely, you have not forgotten me? Can I be
mistaken? I am the little girl whom Irving Stanley rescued from
drowning, when the _St. Helena_ took fire, several years ago."
"I was never on a burning boat, never saw the _St. Helena_," was Mr.
Stanley's reply; and then for a moment the two regarded each other
intently, but Irving was the first to speak.
"It was Hugh," he said. "It must have been Hugh, for I remember now that
when he was a lad, or youth, his uncle sometimes called him Irving,
which is, I think, his middle name."
"Yes, Yes, H.I. Worthington. I've seen it written thus, but never
thought to ask what 'I.' was for. It was Hugh, and I mistook that old
man for his father. I understand it now," and Alice spoke hurriedly, her
fair face coloring with excitement as the truth flashed upon her that
she was Golden Hair.
Then the bright color faded away, and alarmed at the pallor which
succeeded it, Irving Stanley passed his arm supportingly around her,
asking if she were faint. Old Sam, moving away from the door, saw her as
she sat thus, but did not hear her reply: "It takes me so by surprise.
Poor Hugh, how he must have suffered."
She said this last more to herself than to Irving Stanley, who,
nevertheless, saw in it a meaning; and looking her earnestly in the
face, said to her: "Alice, you cannot be my wife, because your heart is
given to Hugh Worthington. Is it not so?"
Alice would not deceive him, and she answered, frankly: "It is," while
Irving replied: "I approve your choice, although it makes me very
wretched. You will be happy with him. Heaven bless you both."
He dared not trust himself to say another word, but hurrying from her
presence, sought the shelter of the woods, where alone he could school
himself to bear this terrible disappointment.
Hugh did not return until evening, and the first object he saw
distinctly as he galloped to the house, was Alice, sitting near to
Irving upon the pleasant piazza, just as it was natural that she should
sit. He did not observe that his mother was there with them; he did not
think of anything as he rode past them with nod and smile, save that
life henceforth was but a dreary, hopeless blank to him.
Leaving Rocket in Claib's care, he sauntered to the back piazza, where
Sam was sitting, and taking a seat beside him startled him by saying
that he should start on the morrow in quest of his missing sister.
"Yes, massah," was Sam's quiet reply, for he understood the reason of
this sudden journey.
Old Sam pitied Hugh, and after a moment's silence his pity expressed
itself in words. Laying his dark hand on Hugh's bowed head, he said:
"Poor Massah Hugh. Sam kin feel for you ef he is black. Niggers kin love
like the white folks does."
"What do you mean? What do you know?" Hugh asked, a little haughtily,
while Sam fearlessly replied:
"'Scuse me, massah, but I hears dem dis mornin'--hears de city chap
sparkin' Miss Ellis, and seen his arm spang round her, too, with her
sweet face, white as wool, lyin' in his buzzum."
"You saw this after I was gone?" Hugh asked, eagerly, and Sam replied:
"Yes, massah, strue as preachin', and I'se sorry for massah. I prays
that he may somewhar find anodder Miss Ellis, only not quite so nice,
'cause he can't."
Hugh smiled bitterly, as he rejoined:
"Pray rather that I may find Adah, that is the object now for which I
live; and, Sam, keep what you have seen to yourself. Be faithful to Miss
Johnson and kind to mother. There's no telling when I shall return. I
may join the Federal Army, but not a word of this to any one."
"Oh, massah," Sam began, but Hugh left him ere he finished, and
compelled himself to join the group on the front side of the building,
startling them as he had Sam by announcing his determination to start on
the morrow for New York.
Alice's exclamation of surprise was lost as Irving rejoined:
"Then we may travel together, as I, too, leave in the morning."
Hugh gave him a rapid, searching glance, and then his eye fell on Alice,
whose white face he jealously fancied was caused by the prospect of
parting so soon with her affianced husband. He could not guess whether
she were going to Europe or not. A few weeks seemed so short a time in
which to prepare, that he half believed she might induce Mr. Stanley to
defer the trip till autumn. But he would not ask. She would surely tell
him at the last, he thought. She ought, at least, to trust him as a
brother, and say to him:
"Hugh, I am engaged to Mr. Stanley, and when you return, if you are long
gone, I shall probably not be here."
But she said to him no such thing, and only the whiteness of her face
and the occasional quivering of her long eyelashes, showed that she felt
at all, as at an early hour next morning she presided at the breakfast
prepared for the travelers. There was no tremor in her voice, no
hesitancy in her manner, and a stranger could not have told which of the
young men before her held her heart in his possession, or which had kept
her wakeful the entire night, revolving the propriety of telling him ere
he left that the Golden Hair he loved so much was willing to be his.
"Perhaps he will speak to me. I'll wait," was the final decision, as,
rising from her sleepless pillow, she sat down in the gray dawn of the
morning and penned a hasty note, which she thrust into his hand at
parting, little dreaming how long a time would intervene ere they would
meet again.
He had not said to her or to his mother that he might join the army,
gathering so fast from every Northern city and hamlet; only Sam knew
this, and so the mother longing for her daughter was pleased rather than
surprised at his abrupt departure, bidding him Godspeed, and lading him
with messages of love for Adah and the little boy. Alice, too, tried to
smile as she said good-by, but it died upon her lips and a tear trembled
on her cheek, when Hugh dropped the little hand he never expected to
hold again just as he held it then.
Feeling intuitively that Irving and Alice would rather say their parting
words alone, Hugh drew his mother with him as he advanced into the midst
of the sobbing, howling negroes assembled to see him off. But Alice had
nothing to say which she would not have said in his presence. Irving
Stanley understood better than Hugh, and he merely raised her cold hand
to his lips, saying as he did so:
"Just this once; I shall never kiss it again."
He was in the carriage when Hugh came up, and Alice stood leaning
against one of the tall pillars, a deep flush now upon her cheek, and
tears filling her soft blue eyes. In another moment the carriage was
rolling from the yard, neither Irving nor Hugh venturing to look back,
and both as by mutual consent avoiding the mention of Alice, whose name
was not spoken once during their journey together to Cincinnati, where
they parted company, Irving continuing his homeward route, while Hugh
stopped in the city to arrange a matter of business with his banker
there. It was not until Irving was gone and he alone in his room that he
opened the little note given him by Alice, the note which would tell him
of her approaching marriage, he believed. How then was he surprised when
he read:
"DEAR HUGH: I have at last discovered the mistake under which, for
so many years, I have been laboring. It was not Irving Stanley who
saved me from the water, but your own noble self, and you have
generously kept silent all this time, permitting me to expend upon
another the gratitude due to you.
"Dear Hugh, I wish I had known earlier, or that you did not leave
us so soon. It seems so cold, thanking you on paper, but I have no
other opportunity, and must do it here.
"Heaven bless you, Hugh. My mother prayed often for the preserver
of her child, and need I tell you that I, too, shall never forget
to pray for you? The Lord keep you in all your ways, and lead you
safely to your sister.
"ALICE"
Many times Hugh read this note, then pressing it to his lips thrust it
into his bosom, but failed to see what Alice had hoped he might see,
that the love he once asked for was his, and his alone. He was too sure
that another was preferred before him to reason clearly, and the only
emotions he experienced from reading her note were feelings of pleasure
that she had been set right at last, and that Irving had not withheld
from her the truth.
"That ends the drama," he said. "I don't quite believe she is going with
him to Europe, but she will be his when he returns; and henceforth my
duty must be to forget, if possible, that ever I knew I loved her. Oh,
Golden Hair, why did I ever meet, or meeting you, why was I suffered to
love her so devotedly, if I must lose her at the last!"
There were great drops of sweat about Hugh's lips and on his forehead,
as, burying his face in his hands, he laid both upon the table, and
battled manfully with his love for Alice Johnson, a love which refused
at once to surrender its object, even though there seemed no longer a
shadow of hope in which to take refuge.
"God, help me in my sorrow," was the prayer which fell from the
quivering lips, but did not break the silence of that little room, where
none, save God, witnessed the conflict, the last Hugh ever fought for
Alice Johnson.
He could give her up at length; could think, without a shudder, of the
time when another than himself would call her his wife; and when, late
that afternoon, he took the evening train for Cleveland, not one in the
crowded car would have guessed how sore was the heart of the young man
who plunged so energetically into the spirited war argument in progress
between a Northern and Southern politician. It was a splendid escape
valve for his pent-up feelings, and Hugh carried everything before him,
taking by turns both sides of the question, and effectually silencing
the two combatants, who said to each other in parting: "We shall hear
from that Kentuckian again, though whether in Rebeldom or Yankeeland we
cannot tell."