MEETING OF THE COUSINS.
St. John had come up the garden path quickly, and had failed to notice
Harry Powell, although he had caught sight of a well-known dress which
Marion wore.
Now, when he saw the young surgeon, his face fell, for he had calculated
upon seeing Marion alone.
"Excuse me, Marion," he said, "I did not know you had company."
"Come in, St. John," replied the girl. "Do you not recognize my visitor?
It is Dr. Harry Powell."
"Oh!" St. John was much surprised, and showed it. "How do you do?" he
continued stiffly.
"Shake hands. You are cousins," went on Marion, not liking the dark look
which had come to St. John's face.
"Excuse me, but I cannot shake hands with one who wears that uniform,"
returned the spendthrift, drawing back. "I am surprised, Marion, to see
you upon such intimate terms with your country's foe."
Marion's face flushed, and she bit her lip. Harry Powell set his teeth
and then smiled coldly.
"I perceive you wear no uniform at all, St. John," he remarked
pointedly.
"No. My duty to my mother keeps me at home," stammered St. John.
"If all who have mothers were to remain at home we would have few
soldiers."
"It is a very great trial to me to have to remain at home," went on the
hypocrite smoothly. "Yet, to my notion, a man is far better off at home
than to be wearing a Yankee uniform."
"That is for each man to decide for himself."
St. John turned to Marion.
"Does your mother know that Dr. Powell is here?"
"Yes; she has invited him to dine with us."
"To dine with you!" exclaimed the spendthrift.
"Yes, what is wrong about that?" questioned Harry Powell.
"I thought she was a true and loyal Southern woman."
"I do not follow you," answered Harry Powell hotly. "The ties of blood
count for something, even in war times."
"They do not count for as much as that--to me," said St. John sourly.
"Then I presume you will not care to stop and dine with us, St. John,"
put in Marion.
"Thank you, no. I will remain another time--when it is more agreeable,
Marion."
So speaking, St. John bowed low to the girl, nodded slightly to the
young surgeon, and hurried from the place.
Marion looked at Harry Powell with a face that was crimson.
"Forget the insult, Harry!" she cried.
"It is not your fault, Marion. But what a cad St. John is! I never liked
him much. I can easily understand how Jack cannot get along with him."
"I wish he would join the army. It might make a man of him."
"I believe he is too cowardly to don a uniform. But come, let us go into
the house, or your mother will wonder what is keeping us."
When they entered the homestead they found Colonel Stanton taking his
leave. The colonel was perfectly willing to allow the young surgeon to
remain.
"Have a good time, Powell," he said. "And try to convince your worthy
relatives that all Yankees are not the monsters they are painted."
"He's a downright good fellow!" cried Jack, when the Federal officer had
departed. "I don't wonder that you like him, Harry."
"He is a very nice man," said Marion, and to this Mrs. Ruthven nodded
affirmatively.
Dinner was almost ready to be served, and while they were waiting Marion
noticed that the young surgeon was studying Jack's face closely.
"What makes you look at Jack so?" she questioned, in a low voice, so
that our hero might not hear.
"I was studying his face," was the slow reply.
"Studying his face?"
"Yes. Marion, did you notice how Colonel Stanton looks?"
"I did, although not very closely."
"It seems to me that Jack bears a wonderful resemblance to the colonel."
"Now you speak of it, I must say you are right," answered Marion
thoughtfully. And then, after another pause, she continued: "Is the
colonel a married man?"
"I hardly think so. I have never heard him speak of a wife or children."
"Then it is likely that he is a bachelor." And there, for the time
being, the subject was dropped.
Despite the fact that the house was surrounded by Federal troops and
that a portion of the homestead was being used as a hospital, the dinner
passed off in a far from unpleasant manner. Mrs. Ruthven was glad to
meet her nephew once more, and made him tell the story of his service in
detail. Not only the lady of the house, but also Marion and Jack, hung
upon the young surgeon's words, and Jack's eyes glistened when he heard
about the hard fighting which had been witnessed.
"Oh, how I wish I had been there! I would have helped to beat the Yankee
troops back!" he cried.
"You're a born soldier, Jack!" answered Harry Powell. "And I must say I
like you the better for it. I can't stand such stay-at-homes as St.
John."
"Oh, St. John is a regular--a regular----"
"Hush, Jack!" interrupted Mrs. Ruthven reprovingly. "He says his mother
needs him at home."
"And our country needs him at the front," said Marion.
"We don't need cowards," finished Jack. "Harry, you don't have cowards
in your ranks, do you?"
"I am afraid all armies have more or less cowards in the ranks," laughed
the young surgeon. "Some fellows would never make soldiers if they
remained in the service a hundred years. Human nature is human nature
the world over, you know."
"I wonder if Dr. Mackey is a brave man," muttered Jack, but nobody paid
attention to this question.
The repast over, Harry Powell took his leave, but promised to come
again, if possible, before leaving the vicinity. Marion saw him go with
genuine regret, and blushed painfully when, on watching him hurry down
the road, he suddenly turned and waved his hand toward her.
"Dear, good cousin Harry," she murmured. "How different from St. John!"
Two days passed and nothing of importance occurred to disturb the
Ruthven homestead. On the second day St. John called to see Marion, but
she excused herself by saying she had a headache, which was true,
although the ache was not as severe as it might have been.
As he was leaving the place St. John ran up against Jack, who had been
down to the outskirts of the Federal encampment, watching the soldiers
drill.
"Hullo, where have you been?" said the spendthrift carelessly.
"Been down watching the Yankees drill," answered Jack.
"It seems to me you take an awful interest in those dirty Yankees,"
retorted St. John, with a sneer.
"I take an interest in all soldiers."
"Then why don't you join them, and evince your interest in some
practical way?"
"I'd join our troops quick enough, if I was older. I'd be ashamed to
stay at home and suck my thumb."
Jack looked at St. John steadily as he spoke, and this threw the
spendthrift into a rage.
"Do you mean to insult me by that?" he roared.
"If the shoe fits you can wear it."
"I'll knock you down for the insult."
"I don't think you will."
"Why not?"
"Perhaps you are not able, that's why."
"Pooh! Do you think you can stand up against me?"
"Perhaps I can. Don't forget our encounter on the road."
"You took a mean advantage of me. I've a good mind to thrash you right
here."
"You may try it on if you wish, St. John," and so speaking Jack began to
throw off his coat.
"Will you take back what you said?"
"What did I say?"
"Said I was a coward for not becoming a soldier--or about the same
thing."
"I won't take back what I think is true."
"So you dare to say I am a coward?" howled the spendthrift.
"If you want it in plain words, I do dare to say it, and furthermore, it
is true, and you know it. Your plea that you must remain at home is all
a sham. When the Yankees came this way you were all ready to run for
your life at the first sign of real danger. You never thought of your
mother at all."
"Ha! who told you that?"
"Never mind; I found it out, and that's enough."
"I--I was suffering from an extremely severe toothache, and hardly knew
what I was doing that day."
"I don't believe it."
"You young rascal! you are growing more impudent every day."
"I am not a rascal."
"You are, and an upstart in the bargain. I heard at the village that
some Confederate surgeon claims you as his son. Is that true?"
"If it is, it is his business and mine."
"Well, if you are his son, why don't you get out of here?"
"I shall not go as long as Mrs. Ruthven wishes me to remain."
"Does she want you to stay?"
"Yes."
"And Marion wants you to?"
"Yes."
"It is strange. But if I were you I wouldn't stay where I had no right
to stay," went on St. John insinuatingly.
"But I have a right here."
"Indeed!"
"Yes. The late Colonel Ruthven adopted me, and I am his son by law."
"Bah! That will count for nothing if this Confederate surgeon can prove
you belong to him."
"Well, he'll have to prove it first."
"Of course you won't get out of this nest until you are pushed out,"
blustered St. John. "It's too much of a soft thing for you. You ought to
be made to earn your own living."
This remark made Jack's face grow crimson, and, striding up to St. John,
he clenched his fists, at which the young man promptly retreated.
"I am perfectly willing to work whenever called upon to do so," said our
hero. "But it is not for you to say what I shall do, remember that. I
know why you wish to get me out of here."
"Do you, indeed!"
"I do, indeed, St. John Ruthven. You want to get hold of some of Mrs.
Ruthven's property. If I was out of the way, you think she might leave
it all to Marion and to you."
"Well, I have more of a right to it than you, if it comes to that."
"But Marion has the best right, and I hope every dollar of it goes to
her."
"Well, that aint here or there. Are you going with your father or not?"
"He must prove that he is my father first."
"You won't take his word?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I do not like the man," and our hero's face filled with sudden
bitterness. What if Dr. Mackey should prove to be his parent, after all?
How St. John would rejoice in his discomfiture!
"I suppose this Dr. Mackey is a very common sort of man," continued the
spendthrift, in an endeavor to add to our hero's misery.
"What do you know about him?"
"Nothing but what I heard at the village."
"Is he down there now?"
"Of course not. He went with our troops."
Jack drew a sigh of relief. It was likely that the doctor would not show
himself in the neighborhood for some time to come, probably not until
the Federal troops had departed.
"I am going to talk to my aunt of this," said St. John suddenly, and,
without another word to Jack, turned his steps toward the plantation
home.