A PROUD SPIRIT BROKEN.
Only a week and Colonel Hamilton was ordered back to Washington. The
right wing of the army was to swing round over West Virginia, to
intercept, if possible, the progressive movements of General Lee's
forces that were threatening a northern aggression; and every officer
able for action was ordered to report at headquarters. Lillian would not
remain behind. How could she fold her hands and wait? She must work; her
mind must be employed or the dizzy whirl would overpower her. Besides,
she had a mission, of which all others, unless it was her Aunt Cheevers,
were ignorant. The plan of operation had been secretly marked out by
herself, and she must go.
"I can never let that Mason and Dixon line divide us again," was her
closing remark after listening to a long list of reasons why she should
remain in her comfortable surroundings amid friends and luxuries.
The fond husband could not refuse, and together they entered the
National Capital, and were greeted cordially by sympathizers and army
officials. As, however, we are not writing the history of the rebellion,
but only narrating incidents gathered during its progress, we will not
trace the march of Colonel Hamilton's corps, but will meet him again
when the warm days return to deck the blood-stained land with beauty and
breathe freshness once more into the trampled vegetation.
There had been skirmishes along the line of march, fightings, repulses
and victories; and Lillian had not been permitted to fold her hands.
There were the sick to be attended to, and wounded to be dressed; while
the 'cup of cold water' and the 'oil and wine' were needed everywhere:
Whether friend or foe; Confederate or Unionist, it made no difference,
in each she discovered a brother, and withheld no comfort or
ministration in her power.
"You seem young to be in the army," she said one day to a beardless
youth who had been severely wounded by a sharpshooter and was placed
under her care.
"Eighteen, ma'am," was the laconic reply.
"Will you tell me your name?" she asked, while tenderly bathing the pale
face and combing the rich brown hair from a full rounded forehead.
"Rufus Gaylord."
She started.
"Gaylord!"
How her thoughts flew! What a sweep over they took in that intervening
moment of silence!
"Is your father's name Hudson Gaylord?"
"No; he is my uncle. Do you know him? I thought you were a Northerner!"
"I know him only by reputation. Where is he?"
"Down in Richmond, _talking_ about arming the niggers, I reckon"; was
his answer, while a sneer curled his lip. "Beechwood is only a few miles
from here and I want to be taken back to it as soon as I can ride so
far, as Mother does not know where I am."
Here was an opening to the cloud; should she enter it? How she trembled
at the thought.
"Is your aunt at Beechwood?" she found breath to inquire at last.
"No, she is in Boston, and Uncle Hud says will stay there until the army
leaves Virginia. I don't reckon she cares how long she stays though, for
she has her girl back again, every one thought was drowned, and----"
"Her adopted daughter! did you say?"
"Well, y-e-s! But what do you know about her? I'll be hanged if I
shouldn't think you were her sister; I never saw eyes more alike. She is
splendid, and I am glad she has come to life again"; and in spite of a
deep wound in the shoulder, and the presence of a bullet somewhere in
the chest, his cheek flushed with boyish admiration as he talked of his
foster cousin, and Lillian did not fail to discover the cause of the
deepening blush.
"Are you sure of what you have been saying?"
"Sure that Aunt Nell is in Boston, and that she has Lily with her; but
not quite sure as to you being her sister." In spite of her emotion,
Mrs. Hamilton smiled at the ingenuity of this remark. Her resolution was
taken. She would return to Washington, and, as soon as possible, go to
Boston, and find this girl who bore such a striking resemblance to
herself. She arose to answer a call and found that her trembling limbs
refused to do her bidding. As she reseated herself the boy said kindly.
"I reckon you are not feeling very well. I would rest a bit, for it must
be dreadful taking care of such a lot!"
True to her purpose, within a week she had communicated with Colonel
Hamilton and obtained a leave of absence, and was on her way to
Philadelphia. A little breathing spell was necessary; she would stop and
tell auntie all about it!
It was night when she reached the city, and, taking a carriage, she was
soon in Race street. Stopping at the corner, she had a fancy to go alone
to look in upon the peaceful home-scene, if perchance the curtain was
left up at the side window. Was auntie thinking of her? She would give
her a pleasant surprise.
How little we know what is to fill the next moment that sweeps through
our eventful lives! The curtain was left up, as she had imagined, and
sitting by the table in the center of the room were two ladies, instead
of the one she had expected to find alone. The gas shone directly upon
the face of Mrs. Cheevers, but the head of the other was turned away.
Still there was no mistaking that imperious posture and stateliness of
form, or the braids of jetty hair. It was her mother! They were talking,
but she could not distinguish a word. What caused that guilty mother to
move so uneasily in her chair, and turn towards the spot where her
daughter stood trembling in the shadows? Had conscience touched a note
of warning?
"I must enter," thought Lillian, and passing around to the front door,
rang the bell. Mrs. Cheevers answered it in person. "Do not speak,
Auntie; it is I," she said, hurriedly, as the door opened. "My mother
is in there; I saw her through the window. How shall I meet her?"
"Promptly and boldly, my child. Come right in."
She led the way, while her visitor followed trembling in every limb.
"What has brought you back at this time?" she went on cheerfully to ask.
"You said nothing about it in your last letter." Mrs. Belmont arose as
they approached, and stood pale and haggard before her injured child.
"My mother!" Lillian exclaimed, with outstretched arms. "How I have
wanted to meet you! Why did you flee from me?"
"You wanted to see me? Lillian, is that true?"
"It is true, Mother. Why do you look so sternly? Has your daughter
committed the unpardonable sin because she felt disposed to forsake all
others, if need be, and cleave to her husband?"
"Well, do you understand it? See where I now am! Look at the shame, the
disgrace, the poverty, you have brought upon me! I am a wanderer without
home or country, a pauper in a strange land, and you have done it. Once
I would have died for you; but what have you sacrificed for me?" She
turned slowly and reseated herself by the table.
"This is my mother! Cold, stern and unloving!" And sinking down upon the
sofa her pent-up feelings found vent in tears.
"It is my opinion, Charlotte," said Mrs. Cheevers, calmly, "that the day
will come when you will repent the injustice of this hour. If all you
have said is true in regard to yourself, how can you afford to throw
away so wantonly a daughter's proffered affection? If she can overlook
the wrongs of her mother, that mother ought to clasp her tightly in the
arms of love."
"What do you mean, Mrs. Cheevers? What have I done to her that should
call forth such a remark from a third party?"
"O, you need not take the trouble to tell me to mind my own business;
for whatever affects my brother's wife or his child is my affair; and I
repeat, it is your duty to lay aside that stately indignation, and if
Lillian will extend the hand of filial love, it is yours to clasp it."
Mr. Cheevers coming home from the store, turned the current of
conversation into another channel.
"Well, well!" he exclaimed, as he recognized the bowed figure on the
sofa. "Mrs. Hamilton, as I live! Just put down that little white hand
and kiss your old uncle. Just as glad to see you as though you were my
own daughter. How is Pearl? Now, look here, Lillian," he continued, as
he perceived the quivering lips attempting to answer; "none of that
toward me! Anybody who draws the moisture out of those beautiful eyes
while I am around must answer for the offence. There isn't another in
this great city to-night who has more reason to laugh and be glad than
have you, so be about it! Let that statue of dignity mump it out if she
is determined to do so, but the wife of Colonel Hamilton has no good
reason for tears."
"Hiram!" interposed the wife, and she shook her head menacingly at him.
"It is all very well; but what brought you to us so unexpectedly?"
"A little business, Uncle," Lillian replied, finding voice to speak. "I
am going farther north, perhaps to Boston, and shall return here when my
object is accomplished."
Mrs. Belmont turned hastily in her chair, and glared at the speaker with
dilated eye balls.
"To Boston!" cried Mr. Cheevers. "Well, now if I were a woman I would
ask 'What under the sun are you going there for?'"
"But as you are a gentleman you will wait patiently until I can tell you
all."
"Just so. Did you come on the eight train?"
"Yes."
"Have you thought, wife, of food and rest?"
"Stupid as ever! I will go immediately."
Mrs. Belmont soon followed the lady out of the room. An hour afterward,
while sitting at the table, where a bountiful lunch had been prepared,
Mrs. Cheevers told Lillian that her mother had retired to her room
feeling very unwell.
"Probably!" retorted her husband, with a merry twinkle in his eye.
"That is not fair Hiram; she has been sick ever since she returned; and
I think she was fearful of an approaching illness or she would not have
come here. I went with her to-day to see Dr. Kehn about her head, and it
was his opinion that there was some trouble with the brain that might
prove serious, and you know that you have spoken of the wild look in her
eyes."
"And have not wondered at it, wife; but you are looking well, Lillian,
field life agrees with you."
"Tired though, and have come to Uncle Hiram's for a little rest."
"That's right, my child. I only wish you could have brought Pearl
along."
There was a long talk in an upper room that night not far from the
guest-chamber to which Mrs. Belmont had retired; for Lillian had desired
to tell her aunt all about it, and the good lady listened and wondered.
"Boston is a great city, my child, and what if you could not find Mrs.
Gaylord?"
"Her husband mentioned in his letter the name of a Mr. Bancroft,
merchant I believe, and through him I thought to learn all I desired. At
any rate I must try to find this girl! It is not because I am told that
her eyes are like mine, as there is nothing remarkable in this; many
have large dark optics," and she laughed, "but because something
continually goads me with the conviction that she is my child."
"And have you not told Pearl?"
"No, I could not bear to trouble him as my poor heart is agitated; and
it would be an additional grief to have him treat the matter with
incredulity. He too must wait for the unfolding."
"But your mother? How will she ever account for the young lady's
disappearance? How can either of you forgive what she has done if it is
proven that Lily Gaylord is your child?"
Lillian started to her feet, while Mrs. Cheevers looked wildly towards
the door. A low, wailing cry as if a heart was being crushed had reached
them from the outside, and their cheeks blanched as they listened. For a
moment the two listened to their heart's throbbings as the stillness of
death settled down about them; then a sound as of one falling broke the
silence. Lillian rushed to the door in time to clasp the inanimate form
of her mother before the poor head struck the floor upon which she was
kneeling. It was true! _She had been listening!_ The upper part of the
door did not close tightly, and it was to this opening that her ear had
been placed until the brain reeled and she sank upon her knees.
"O my mother!" almost shrieked the distracted daughter as she attempted
to raise her.
Mr. Cheevers heard the cry and came rushing up the stairs, and the
wretched woman was soon carried to her bed, where, in a short time, the
family physician was in attendance. For many weeks the proud, erring
Mrs. Belmont lay tossing upon her bed in wild delirium, and Lillian
stood by and listened to her ravings.
"I did not do it! Look--there is no blood on my hands! It was _she_! It
was she! Let me look again; yes--the same purple spots; Lillian!
Lillian! Why won't you come to me? I did not do it! It was the sea--the
wicked, cruel sea! O my curse! It has fallen back upon my poor head! It
is burning up my brain! O God! But he won't hear! The fires--_the
fires!_"
In vain did the untiring watcher breathe into her ears the words of
sympathy and forgiveness, but the whirling brain caught them not. The
tenderest of hands bathed the burning brow and administered to her every
necessity. It was a long, a fearful struggle between life and death; but
when the spring days were all past, and the warm summer sun shone down
upon the fresh young grass in the public squares, Mrs. Belmont lay with
folded hands and worn-out frame in quiet helplessness upon the bed,
where for so many weeks she had tossed in frantic delirium. The poor
clogged brain had been relieved of its heavy load and the burdened
conscience quieted, and now the reaction had come and Lillian again
prayed and waited!
"If she would but speak to me or show some signs of recognition,"
Lillian had said one day to her aunt, as they stood looking at the pale,
wan face upon the pillow. "It is so hard to see her lying there day
after day so still and passive, taking all that is given her without a
word or gesture! Terrible fears at times take possession of me--what if
she never recovers her reason! The doctor has hinted such a possibility
if I am not mistaken, and I dare not ask him if my suspicions are
correct." The quivering lids were slowly raised for one moment from over
the large eyes, where a most pitiful pleading look was hidden, and the
longing glance fastened itself on the troubled face beside her.
"Mother, dear Mother, do you know me? Speak just one word to your poor
Lillian"; and she kissed tenderly the firmly set lips. Again the lids
slowly fell and the dark orbs were shut in with their unfathomed
mysteries.
"This is dreadful!" and with tears streaming down her face the aunt
turned and walked from the room.