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diff --git a/3428-0.txt b/3428-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0d88e2b --- /dev/null +++ b/3428-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6992 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Two Vanrevels, by Booth Tarkington + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Two Vanrevels + +Author: Booth Tarkington + +Posting Date: February 28, 2009 [EBook #3428] +Last Updated: March 3, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TWO VANREVELS *** + + + + +Produced by Richard W. Harper + + + + + +THE TWO VANREVELS + + +By Booth Tarkington + + + + Table of Contents + + A Cat Can Do More than Look at A King + Surviving Evils of the Reign of Terror + The Rogue's Gallery of a Father Should be Exhibited to + a Daughter with Particular Care + “But Spare Your Country's Flag” + Nero not the Last Violinist of his Kind + The Ever Unpractical Feminine + The Comedian + A Tale of a Political Difference + The Rule of the Regent + Echoes of a Serenade + A Voice in a Garden + The Room in the Cupola + The Tocsin + The Firm of Gray and Vanrevel + When June Came + “Those Endearing Young Charms” + The Price of Silence + The Uniform + The Flag Goes Marching By + “Good-by” + + + + +CHAPTER I. A Cat Can Do More than Look at a King + +It was long ago in the days when men sighed when they fell in love; +when people danced by candle and lamp, and did dance, too, instead of +solemnly gliding about; in that mellow time so long ago, when the young +were romantic and summer was roses and wine, old Carewe brought his +lovely daughter home from the convent to wreck the hearts of the youth +of Rouen. + +That was not a far journey; only an afternoon's drive through the woods +and by the river, in an April, long ago; Miss Betty's harp carefully +strapped behind the great lumbering carriage, her guitar on the front +seat, half-buried under a mound of bouquets and oddly shaped little +bundles, farewell gifts of her comrades and the good Sisters. In her +left hand she clutched a small lace handkerchief, with which she now +and then touched her eyes, brimmed with the parting from Sister Cecilia, +Sister Mary Bazilede, the old stone steps and all the girls: but for +every time that she lifted the dainty kerchief to brush away the edge of +a tear, she took a deep breath of the Western woodland air and smiled at +least twice; for the years of strict inclosure within St. Mary's +walls and still gardens were finished and done with, and at last the +many-colored world flashed and danced in a mystery before her. This +mystery was brilliant to the convent-girl because it contained men; she +was eager to behold it. + +They rumbled into town after sunset, in the fair twilight, the dogs +barking before them, and everyone would have been surprised to know that +Tom Vanrevel, instead of Mr. Crailey Gray, was the first to see her. +By the merest accident, Tom was strolling near the Carewe place at the +time; and when the carriage swung into the gates, with rattle and clink +and clouds of dust at the finish, it was not too soon lost behind the +shrubbery and trees for Tom to catch something more than a glimpse of a +gray skirt behind a mound of flowers, and of a charming face with +parted lips and dark eyes beneath the scuttle of an enormous bonnet. +It happened--perhaps it is more accurate to say that Tom thought it +happened--that she was just clearing away her veil when he turned to +look. She blushed suddenly, so much was not to be mistaken; and the eyes +that met his were remarkable for other reasons than the sheer loveliness +of them, in that, even in the one flash of them he caught, they meant +so many things at one time. They were sparkling, yet mournful; and they +were wistful, although undeniably lively with the gayest comprehension +of the recipient of their glance, seeming to say, “Oh, it's you, young +man, is it!” And they were shy and mysterious with youth, full of that +wonder at the world which has the appearance, sometimes, of wisdom +gathered in the unknown out of which we came. But, above all, these eyes +were fully conscious of Tom Vanrevel. + +Without realizing what he did, Mr. Vanrevel stopped short. He had been +swinging a walkingstick, which, describing a brief arc, remained poised +half-way in its descent. There was only that one glance between them; +and the carriage disappeared, leaving a scent of spring flowers in the +air. + +The young man was left standing on the wooden pavement in the midst of a +great loneliness, yet enveloped in the afterglow, his soul roseate, +his being quavering, his expression, like his cane, instantaneously +arrested. With such promptitude and finish was he disposed of, that, had +Miss Carewe been aware of his name and the condition wrought in him +by the single stroke, she could have sought only the terse Richard of +England for a like executive ability, “Off with his head! So much for +Vanrevel!” + +She had lifted a slender hand to the fluttering veil, a hand in a white +glove with a small lace gauntlet at the wrist. This gesture was the +final divinity of the radiant vision which remained with the dazed young +man as he went down the street; and it may have been three-quarters of +an hour later when the background of the picture became vivid to him: a +carefully dressed gentleman with heavy brows and a handsome high nose, +who sat stiffly upright beside the girl, his very bright eyes quite as +conscious of the stricken pedestrian as were hers, vastly different, +however, in this: that they glittered, nay, almost bristled, with +hostility; while every polished button of his blue coat seemed to +reflect their malignancy, and to dart little echoing shafts of venom at +Mr. Vanrevel. + +Tom was dismayed by the acuteness of his perception that a man who does +not speak to you has no right to have a daughter like the lady in the +carriage; and, the moment of this realization occurring as he sat making +a poor pretence to eat his evening meal at the “Rouen House,” he dropped +his fork rattling upon his plate and leaned back, staring at nothing, a +proceeding of which his table-mate, Mr. William Cummings, the editor of +the Rouen Journal, was too busy over his river bass to take note. + +“Have you heard what's new in town?” asked Cummings presently, looking +up. + +“No,” said Tom truthfully, for he had seen what was new, but not heard +it. + +“Old Carewe's brought his daughter home. Fanchon Bareaud was with her +at St. Mary's until last year and Fanchon says she's not only a great +beauty but a great dear.” + +“Ah!” rejoined the other with masterly indifference. “Dare say--dare +say.” + +“No wonder you're not interested,” said Cummings cheerfully, returning +to the discussion of his bass. “The old villain will take precious good +care you don't come near her.” + +Mr. Vanrevel already possessed a profound conviction to the same effect. +Robert Meilhac Carewe was known not only as the wealthiest citizen of +Rouen, but also as its heartiest and most steadfast hater: and, although +there were only five or six thousand inhabitants, neither was a small +distinction. For Rouen was ranked, in those easy days, as a wealthy +town; even as it was called an old town; proud of its age and its +riches, and bitter in its politics, of course. The French had built a +fort there, soon after LaSalle's last voyage, and, as Crailey Gray +said, had settled the place, and had then been settled themselves by the +pioneer militia. After the Revolution, Carolinians and Virginians had +come, by way of Tennessee and Kentucky; while the adventurous countrymen +from Connecticut, travelling thither to sell, remained to buy--and then +sell--when the country was in its teens. In course of time the little +trading-post of the Northwest Territory had grown to be the leading +centre of elegance and culture in the Ohio Valley--at least they said +so in Rouen; only a few people in the country, such as Mr. Irving of +Tarrytown, for instance, questioning whether a centre could lead. + +The pivotal figure, though perhaps not the heart, of this centre, was +unquestionably Mr. Carewe, and about him the neat and tight aristocracy +of the place revolved; the old French remnant, having liberally +intermarried, forming the nucleus, together with descendants of the +Cavaliers (and those who said they were) and the industrious Yankees, by +virtue (if not by the virtues) of all whom, the town grew and prospered. +Robert Carewe was Rouen's magnate, commercially and socially, and, until +an upstart young lawyer named Vanrevel struck into his power with a +broad-axe, politically. The wharves were Carewe's; the warehouses that +stood by the river, and the line of packets which plied upon it, +were his; half the town was his, and in Rouen this meant that he was +possessed of the Middle Justice, the High and the Low. His mother was a +Frenchwoman, and, in those days, when to go abroad was a ponderous and +venturesome undertaking, the fact that he had spent most of his youth +in the French capital wrought a certain glamour about him; for to the +American, Paris was Europe, and it lay shimmering on the far horizon of +every imagination, a golden city. Scarce a drawing-room in Rouen lacked +its fearsome engraving entitled “Grand Ball at the Tuileries,” nor +was Godey's Magazine ever more popular than when it contained articles +elaborate of similar scenes of festal light, where brilliant uniforms +mingled with shining jewels, fair locks, and the white shoulders of +magnificently dressed duchesses, countesses, and ladies. Credit for this +description should be given entirely to the above-mentioned periodical. +Furthermore, a sojourn in Paris was held to confer a “certain nameless +and indescribable polish” upon the manners of the visitor; also, there +was something called “an air of foreign travel.” + +They talked a great deal about polish in those days; and some examples +still extant do not deny their justification; but in the case of Mr. +Carewe, there existed a citizen of Rouen, one already quoted, who had +the temerity to declare the polish to be in truth quite nameless and +indescribable for the reason that one cannot paint a vacuum. However, +subscription to this opinion should not be over-hasty, since Mr. Crailey +Gray had been notoriously a rival of Carewe's with every pretty woman +in town, both having the same eye in such matters, and also because the +slandered gentleman could assume a manner when he chose to, whether +or not he possessed it. At his own table he exhaled a hospitable +graciousness which, from a man of known evil temper, carried the +winsomeness of surprise. When he wooed, it was with an air of stately +devotion, combined with that knowingness which sometimes offsets for a +widower the tendency a girl has to giggle at him; and the combination +had been, once or twice, too much for even the alluring Crailey. + +Mr. Carewe lived in an old-fashioned house on the broad, quiet, shady +street which bore his name. There was a wide lawn in front, shadowy +under elm and locust trees, and bounded by thick shrubberies. A long +garden, fair with roses and hollyhocks, lay outside the library windows, +an old-time garden, with fine gravel paths and green arbors; drowsed +over in summer-time by the bees, while overhead the locust rasped his +rusty cadences the livelong day; and a faraway sounding love-note from +the high branches brought to mind the line, like an old refrain: + +“The voice of the turtle was heard in the land.” + +Between the garden and the carriage gates there was a fountain where +a bronze boy with the dropsy (but not minding it) lived in a perpetual +bath from a green goblet held over his head. Nearby, a stone sun-dial +gleamed against a clump of lilac bushes; and it was upon this spot that +the white kitten introduced Thomas Vanrevel to Miss Carewe. + +Upon the morning after her arrival, having finished her piano-forte +practice, touched her harp twice, and arpeggioed the Spanish Fandango +on her guitar, Miss Betty read two paragraphs of “Gilbert” (for she was +profoundly determined to pursue her tasks with diligence), but the open +windows disclosing a world all sunshine and green leaves, she threw the +book aside with a good conscience, and danced out to the garden. There, +coming upon a fuzzy, white ball rolling into itself spirally on a lazy +pathway, she pounced at it, whereupon the thing uncurled with lightning +swiftness, and fled, more like a streak than a kitten, down the drive, +through the open gates and into the street, Miss Betty in full cry. + +Across the way there chanced to be strolling a young lady in blue, +accompanied by a gentleman whose leisurely gait gave no indication +of the maneuvering he had done to hasten their walk into its present +direction. He was apparently thirty or thirty-one, tall, very straight, +dark, smooth-shaven, his eyes keen, deep-set, and thoughtful, and his +high white hat, white satin cravat, and careful collar, were evidence +of an elaboration of toilet somewhat unusual in Rouen for the morning; +also, he was carrying a pair of white gloves in his hand and dangled a +slender ebony cane from his wrist. The flying kitten headed toward the +couple, when, with a celerity only to be accounted for on the theory +that his eye had been fixed on the Carewe gateway for some time +previous to this sudden apparition, the gentleman leaped in front of the +fugitive. + +The kitten attempted a dodge to pass; the gentleman was there before it. +The kitten feinted; the gentleman was altogether too much on the spot. +Immediately--and just as Miss Carewe, flushed and glowing, ran into the +street--the small animal doubled, evaded Miss Betty's frantic clutch, +re-entered the gateway, and attempted a disappearance into the lilac +bushes, instead of going round them, only to find itself, for a fatal +two seconds, in difficulties with the close-set thicket of stems. + +In regard to the extraordinary agility of which the pursuing gentleman +as capable, it is enough to say that he caught the cat. He emerged +from the lilacs holding it in one hand, his gloves and white hat in the +other, and presented himself before Miss Betty with a breathlessness not +entirely attributable to his exertions. + +For a moment, as she came running toward him and he met her flashing +look, bright with laughter and recognition and haste, he stammered. A +thrill nothing less than delirious sent the blood up behind his brown +cheeks, for he saw that she, too, knew that this was the second time +their eyes had met. Naturally, at that time he could not know how many +other gentlemen were to feel that same thrill (in their cases, also, +delirious, no less) with the same, accompanying, mysterious feeling, +which came just before Miss Betty's lashes fell, that one had found, at +last, a precious thing, lost long since in childhood, or left, perhaps, +upon some other planet in a life ten thousand years ago. + +He could not speak at once, but when he could, “Permit me, madam,” he +said solemnly, offering the captive, “to restore your kitten.” + +An agitated kitten should not be detained by clasping its waist, and +already the conqueror was paying for his victory. There ensued a final, +outrageous squirm of despair; two frantic claws, extended, drew one long +red mark across the stranger's wrist and another down the back of his +hand to the knuckles. They were good, hearty scratches, and the blood +followed the artist's lines rapidly; but of this the young man took no +note, for he knew that he was about to hear Miss Carewe's voice for the +first time. + +“They say the best way to hold them,” he observed, “is by the scruff of +the neck.” + +Beholding his wounds, suffered in her cause, she gave a pitying cry that +made his heart leap with the richness and sweetness of it. Catching the +kitten from him, she dropped it to the ground in such wise as to prove +nature's foresight most kind in cushioning the feet of cats. + +“Ah! I didn't want it that much!” + +“A cat in the hand is worth two nightingales in the bush,” he said +boldly, and laughed. “I would shed more blood than that!” + +Miss Betty blushed like a southern dawn, and started back from him. From +the convent but yesterday--and she had taken a man's hand in both of +hers! + +It was to this tableau that the lady in blue entered, following the hunt +through the gates, where she stopped with a discomposed countenance. At +once, however, she advanced, and with a cry of greeting, enveloped Miss +Betty in a brief embrace, to the relief of the latter's confusion. It +was Fanchon Bareaud, now two years emancipated from St. Mary's, and far +gone in taffeta. With her lustreful light hair, absent blue eyes, and +her gentle voice, as small and pretty as her face and figure, it was not +too difficult to justify Crailey Gray's characterization of her as one +of those winsome baggages who had made an air of feminine helplessness +the fashion of the day. + +It is a wicked thing that some women should kiss when a man is by; in +the present instance the gentleman became somewhat faint. + +“I'm so glad--glad!” exclaimed Betty. “You were just coming to see me, +weren't you? My father is in the library. Let me--” + +Miss Bareaud drew back. “No, no!” she interrupted hastily and with +evident perturbation. “I--we must be on our way immediately.” She threw +a glance at the gentleman, which let him know that she now comprehended +his gloves, and why their stroll had trended toward Carewe Street. “Come +at once!” she commanded him quickly, in an undertone. + +“But now that you're here,” said Miss Betty, wondering very much why he +was not presented to her, “won't you wait and let me gather a nosegay +for you? Our pansies and violets--” + +“I could help,” the gentleman suggested, with the look of a lame dog at +Miss Bareaud. “I have been considered useful about a garden.” + +“Fool!” Betty did not hear the word that came from Miss Bareaud's closed +teeth, though she was mightily surprised at the visible agitation of +her schoolmate, for the latter's face was pale and excited. And Miss +Carewe's amazement was complete when Fanchon, without more words, +cavalierly seized the gentleman's arm and moved toward the street with +him as rapidly as his perceptible reluctance to leave permitted. But at +the gate Miss Bareaud turned and called back over her shoulder, as if +remembering the necessity of offering an excuse for so remarkable a +proceeding: “I shall come again very soon. Just now we are upon an +errand of great importance. Good-day!” + +Miss Betty waved her hand, staring after them, her eyes large with +wonder. She compressed her lips tightly: “Errand!” This was the friend +of childhood's happy hour, and they had not met in two years! + +“Errand!” She ran to the hedge, along the top of which a high white hat +was now seen perambulating; she pressed down a loose branch, and called +in a tender voice to the stranger whom Fanchon had chosen should remain +nameless: + +“Be sure to put some salve on your hand!” + +He made a bow which just missed being too low, but did miss it. + +“It is there--already,” he said; and, losing his courage after the bow, +made his speech with so palpable a gasp before the last word that the +dullest person in the world could have seen that he meant it. + +Miss Betty disappeared. + +There was a rigidity of expression about the gentle mouth of Fanchon +Bareaud, which her companion did not enjoy, as they went on their way, +each preserving an uneasy silence, until at her own door, she turned +sharply upon him. “Tom Vanrevel, I thought you were the steadiest--and +now you've proved yourself the craziest--soul in Rouen!” she burst out. +“And I couldn't say worse!” + +“Why didn't you present me to her?” asked Vanrevel. + +“Because I thought a man of your gallantry might prefer not to face a +shotgun in the presence of ladies!” + +“Pooh!” + +“Pooh!” mimicked Miss Bareaud. “You can 'pooh' as much as you like, but +if he had seen us from the window--” She covered her face with her +hands for a moment, then dropped them and smiled upon him. “I understand +perfectly to what I owe the pleasure of a stroll with you this morning, +and your casual insistence on the shadiness of Carewe Street!” He +laughed nervously, but her smile vanished, and she continued, “Keep +away, Tom. She is beautiful, and at St. Mary's I always thought she +had spirit and wit, too. I only hope Crailey won't see her before the +wedding! But it isn't safe for you. Go along, now, and ask Crailey +please to come at three this afternoon.” + +This message from Mr. Gray's betrothed was not all the ill-starred Tom +conveyed to his friend. Mr. Vanrevel was ordinarily esteemed a person of +great reserve and discretion; nevertheless there was one man to whom he +told everything, and from whom he had no secrets. He spent the noon hour +in feeble attempts to describe to Crailey Gray the outward appearance +of Miss Elizabeth Carewe; how she ran like a young Diana; what one +felt upon hearing her voice; and he presented in himself an example +exhibiting something of the cost of looking in her eyes. His +conversation was more or less incoherent, but the effect of it was +complete. + + + +Chapter II. Surviving Evils of the Reign of Terror + +Does there exist an incredulous, or jealous, denizen of another portion +of our country who, knowing that the room in the wooden cupola over +Mr. Carewe's library was commonly alluded to by Rouen as the “Tower +Chamber,” will prove himself so sectionally prejudiced as to deny +that the town was a veritable hotbed of literary interest, or that Sir +'Walter Scott was ill-appreciated there? Some of the men looked sly, and +others grinned, at mention of this apartment; but the romantic were +not lacking who spoke of it in whispers: how the lights sometimes shone +there all night long, and the gentlemen drove away, whitefaced, in the +dawn. The cupola, rising above the library, overlooked the garden; and +the house, save for that, was of a single story, with a low veranda +running the length of its front. The windows of the library and of a +row of bedrooms---one of which was Miss Betty's--lined the veranda, +“steamboat fashion;” the inner doors of these rooms all opening upon a +long hail which bisected the house, the stairway leading to the room in +the cupola rose the library itself, while the bisecting hail afforded be +only access to the library; hence, the gossips, 'eli acquainted with the +geography of the place, conferred seriously together upon what effect +Miss Betty's homecoming would have in this connection: + +Dr anyone going to the stairway must needs pass her door; and, what +was more to the point, a party C gentlemen descending late from the +mysterious garret might be not so quiet as they intended, and the young +lady sufficiently disturbed to inquire of her father what entertainment +he provided that should keep his guests until four in the morning. + +But at present it was with the opposite end of the house that the town +was occupied, for there, workmen were hammering and sawing and painting +day long, finishing the addition Mr. Carewe was building for his +daughter's debut. This hammering disturbed Miss Betty, who had become +almost as busy with the French Revolution as with her mantua-maker. +For she had found in her father's library many books not for +convent-shelves; and she had become a Girondin. She found memoirs, +histories, and tales of that delectable period, then not so dim with +time but that the figures of it were more than tragic shadows; and for a +week there was no meal in that house to which she sat down earlier +than half an hour Jate. She had a rightful property-interest in the +Revolution, her own great-uncle having been one of those who “suffered;” + not, however, under the guillotine; for to Georges Meilhac appertained +the rare distinction of death by accident on the day when the +business-like young Bonaparte played upon the mob with his cannon. + +There were some yellow letters of this great uncle's in a box which had +belonged to her grandmother, a rich discovery for Miss Betty, who read +and re-read them with eager and excited eyes, living more in Paris with +Georges and his friends than in Rouen with her father. Indeed, she +had little else to do. Mr. Carewe was no comrade for her, by far the +reverse. She seldom saw him, except at the table, when he sat with +averted eyes, and talked to her very little; and, while making elaborate +preparation for her introduction to his friends (such was his phrase) +he treated her with a perfunctory civility which made her wonder if her +advent was altogether welcome to him; bat when she noticed that his hair +looked darker than usual about every fourth day, she began to understand +Why he appeared ungrateful to her for growing up. He went out a great +deal, though no visitors came to the house; for it was known that Mr. +Carewe desired to present his daughter to no one until he presented her +to all. Fanchon Bareaud, indeed, made one hurried and embarrassed call, +evading Miss Betty's reference to the chevalier of the kitten with +a dexterity too nimble to be thought unintentional. Miss Carewe was +forbidden to return her friend's visit until after her debut; and Mr. +Carewe explained that there was always some worthless Young men hanging +about the Bareaud's, where (he did not add) they interfered with a +worthy oh one who desired to honor Fanchon's older sister, Virginia, +with his attentions. + +This was no great hardship for Miss Betty, as, since plunging into the +Revolution with her great-uncle, she had lost some curiosity concerning +the men of to-day, doubting that they would show forth as heroic, +as debonnair, gay and tragic as he. He was the legendary hero of her +childhood; she remembered her mother's stories of him perhaps more +clearly than she remembered her mother; and one of the older Sisters had +known him in Paris and had talked of him at length, giving the flavor of +his dandyism and his beauty at first hand to his young relative. He had +been one of those hardy young men wearing unbelievable garments, who +began to appear in the garden of the Tuileries with knives in their +sleeves and cudgels in their hands, about April, 1794, and whose dash +and recklessness in many matters were the first intimations that the +Citizen Tallien was about to cause the Citizen Robespierre to shoot +himself through the jaw. + +In the library hung a small, full-length drawing of Georges, done in +color by Miss Betty's grandmother; and this she carried to her own room +an& studied long and ardently, until sometimes the man himself seemed +to stand before her, in spite of the fact that Mile. Meithac had not +a distinguished talent and M. Meilhac's features might have been +anybody's. It was to be seen, however, that he was smiling. + +Miss Betty had an impression that her grandmother's art of portraiture +would have been more-successful with the profile than the “full-face.” + Nevertheless, nothing could be more clearly indicated than that the hair +of M. Melihac was very yellow, and his short, huge-lapelled waistcoat +white, striped with scarlet. An enormous cravat covered his chin; the +heavy collar of his yellow coat rose behind his ears, while its tails +fell to his ankles; and the tight trousers of white and yellow stripes +were tied with white ribbons about the middle of the calf; he wore white +stockings and gold-buckled yellow shoes, and on the back of his head +a jauntily cocked black hat. Miss Betty innocently wondered why his +letters did not speak of Petion, of Vergniaud, or of Dumoriez, since +in the historical novels which she read, the hero's lot was inevitably +linked with that of everyone of importance in his generation; yet +Georges appeared to have been unacquainted with these personages, +Robespierre being the only name of consequence mentioned in his letters; +and then it appeared in much the same fashion practised by her father +in alluding to the Governor of the State, who had the misfortune to be +unpopular with Mr. Carewe. But this did not dim her great-uncle's lustre +in Miss Betty's eyes, nor lessen for her the pathetic romance of the +smile he wore. + +Beholding this smile, one remembered the end to which his light +footsteps bad led him; and it was unavoidable to picture him left lying +in the empty street behind the heels of the flying crowd, carefully +forming that same smile on his lips, and taking much pride in passing +with some small, cynical speech, murmured to himself, concerning the +futility of a gentleman's getting shot by his friends for merely being +present to applaud them. So, fancying him thus, with his yellow hair, +his scarlet-striped waistcoat, and his tragedy, the young girl felt a +share of family greatness, or, at least, of picturesqueness, descend +to her. And she smiled sadly back upon the smile in the picture, and +dreamed about its original night after night. + +Whether or no another figure, that of a dark young man in a white hat, +with a white kitten etching his wrist in red, found any place in her +dreams at this period,--it is impossible to determine. She did not see +him again. It is quite another thing, hazardous to venture, to state +that he did not see her. At all events, it is certain that many people +who bad never beheld her were talking of her; that Rouen was full of +contention concerning her beauty and her gift of music, for a song can +be heard through an open window. And how did it happen that Crailey Gray +knew that it was Miss Carewe's habit to stroll in her garden for half +an hour or so, each evening before retiring, and that she went to mass +every morning soon after sunrise? Crailey Gray never rose at, or near, +sunrise in his life, though he sometimes beheld it, from another point +of view, as the end of the evening. It appears that someone must have +told him. + +One night when the moon lay white on the trees and housetops, Miss Betty +paused in her evening promenade and seated herself upon a bench on the +borders of the garden, “touched,” as the books of the time would have +put it, “by the sweet tranquillity of the scene,” and wrought upon by +the tender incentive to sighs and melancholy which youth in loneliness +finds in a loveliness of the earth. The breeze bore the smells of the +old-fashioned garden, of violets and cherry blossoms, and a sound of +distant violins came on the air playing the new song from the new opera. + + “But I also dreamt, which pleased me most, + That you loved me just the same--” + +they sang; and with the lilt of them and the keen beauty of the night, +the inherited pain of the ages rose from the depths of the young girl's +heart, so that she thought it must break; for what reason she could not +have told, since she was without care or sorrow that she knew, except +the French Revolution, yet tears shone upon the long lashes. She shook +them off and looked up with a sudden odd consciousness. The next second +she sprang to her feet with a gasp and a choked outcry, her bands +pressed to her breast. + +Ten paces in front of her, a gap in the shrubbery where tall trees rose +left a small radiant area of illumination like that of a lime-light in +a theatre, its brilliancy intensified by the dark foliage behind. It +was open to view only from the bench by which she stood, and appeared, +indeed, like the stage of a little theatre a stage occupied by a bizarre +figure. For, in the centre of this shining patch, with the light strong +on his face, was standing a fair-haired young man, dressed in a yellow +coat, a scarlet and white striped waistcoat, wearing a jauntily cocked +black hat on his bead. And even to the last detail, the ribbon laces +above the ankle and the gold-buckled shoes, he was the sketch of Georges +Meilhac sprung into life. + +About this slender figure there hung a wan sweetness like a fine +mist, almost an ethereality in that light; yet in the pale face lurked +something reckless, something of the actor, too; and though his smile +was gentle and wistful, there was a twinkle behind it, not seen at +first, something amused and impish; a small surprise underneath, like a +flea in a rose-jar. + +Fixed to the spot by this apparition, Miss Betty stood wildly staring, +her straining eyelids showing the white above and below the large brown +iris. Her breath came faster and deeper, until, between her parted lips +it became vocal in a quick sound like a sob. At that he spoke. + +“Forgive me!” The voice was low, vibrant, and so exceedingly musical +that he might have been accused of coolly selecting his best tone; and +it became only sweeter when, even more softly, in a semi-whisper of +almost crucial pleading, he said, “Ah--don't go away!” + +In truth, she could not go; she had been too vitally stirred; she began +to tremble excessively, and sank back upon the bench, motioning him away +with vague gestures of her shaking hands. + +This was more than the Incroyable had counted upon, and far from his +desires. He started forward with an exclamation. + +“Don't come near me!” she gasped. “Who are you? Go away!” + +“Give me one second to explain,” he began; but with the instant +reassurance of this beginning she cut him off short, her fears dispelled +by his commonplace. Nay, indignation displaced them so quickly that she +fairly flashed up before him to her full height. + +“You did not come in by the gate!” she cried. “What do you mean by +coming here in that dress What right have you in my garden?” + +“Just one word,” he begged quickly, but very gently. “You'd allow a +street-beggar that much!” + +She stood before him, panting, and, as he thought, glorious, in her +flush of youth and anger. Tom Vanrevel had painted her incoherently, +but richly, in spite of that, his whole heart being in the portrait; +and--Crailey Gray had smiled at what he deemed the exaggeration of an +ordinarily unimpressionable man who had fallen in love “at first sight;” + yet, in the presence of the reality, the Incroyable decided that Tom's +colors had been gray and humble. It was not that she was merely lovely, +that her nose was straight, and her chin dexterously wrought between +square and oval; that her dark hair lay soft as a shadow on her white +brow; not that the trembling hand she held against her breast sprang +from a taper wrist and tapered again to the tips of the long fingers; +nor that she was of that slenderness as strong as it is delicate; not +all the exquisite regularity of line and mould, nor simplicity of color, +gave her that significance which made the Incroyable declare to himself +that he stood for the first time in the presence of Beauty, and that now +he knew the women he had been wont to call beautiful were but pretty. +And yet her beauty, he told himself, was the least of her loveliness, +for there was a glamour about her. It was not only the richness of her +youth; but there was an ineffable exhalation which seemed to be made +partly of light, partly of the very spirit of her, and, oddly enough, +partly of the scent of the little fan that hung by a ribbon from her +waist. This was a woman like a wine, he felt, there was a bouquet. + +In regard to the bouquet of the young man himself, if he possessed one, +it is pertinent to relate that at this very instant the thought skipped +across his mind (like the hop of a flea in a rose-jar) that some day +he might find the moment when he could tell her the truth about +herself--with a half-laugh--and say: “The angels sent their haloes in a +sandal-wood box to be made into a woman--and it was you!” + +“If you have anything to say for yourself, say it quickly!” said Miss +Betty. + +“You were singing a while ago,” he answered, somewhat huskily, “and +I stopped on the street to listen; then I came here to be nearer. The +spell of your voice--” He broke off abruptly to change the word. “The +spell of the song came over me--it is my dearest favorite--so that I +stood afterward in a sort of trance, only hearing again, in the silence, +'The stolen heart, like the gathered rose, will bloom but for a day!' +I did not see you until you came to the bench. You must believe me: I +would not have frightened you for anything in the world.” + +“Why are you wearing that dress?” + +He laughed, and pointed to where, behind him on the ground, lay a long +gray cloak, upon which had been tossed a white mask. “I'm on my way to +the masquerade;” he answered, with an airy gesture in the direction of +the violins. “I'm an Incroyable, you see; and I had the costume made +from my recollection of a sketch of your great-uncle. I saw it a long +time ago in your library.” + +Miss Carewe's accustomed poise was quite recovered; indeed, she was +astonished to discover a distinct trace of disappointment that the +brilliant apparition must offer so tame an explanation. What he said was +palpably the truth; there was a masquerade that night, she knew, at the +Madrillon's, a little way up Carewe Street, and her father had gone, an +hour earlier, a blue domino over his arm. + +The Incroyable was a person of almost magical perceptiveness; he felt +the let-down immediately and feared a failure. This would not do; +the attitude of tension between them must be renewed at once. “You'll +forgive me?” he began, in a quickly impassioned tone. “It was only after +you sang, a dream possessed me, and--” + +“I cannot stay to talk with you,” Miss Betty interrupted, and added, +with a straightforwardness which made him afraid she would prove +lamentably direct: “I do not know you.” + +Perhaps she remembered that already one young man had been presented to +her by no better sponsor than a white cat, and had no desire to carry +her unconventionality farther than that. In the present instance there +was not even a kitten. + +She turned toward the house, whereupon he gave a little pathetic +exclamation of pleading in a voice that was masterly, being as sincere +as it was musical, and he took a few leaning steps toward her, both +hands outstretched. + +“One moment more!” he cried, as she turned again to him. “It may be the +one chance of my life to speak with you; don't deny me this.--All the +rest will meet you when the happy evening comes, will dance with you, +talk with you, see you when they like, listen to you sing. I, alone, +must hover about the gates, or steal like a thief into your garden to +hear you from a distance. Listen to me--just this once--for a moment?” + +“I cannot listen,” she said firmly; and stood quite still. She was now +in deep shadow. + +“I will not believe you merciless! You would not condemn the meanest +criminal unheard!” Remembering that she was so lately from the convent, +he ventured this speech in a deep, thrilling voice, only to receive a +distinct shock for his pains, for she greeted it with an irrepressible, +most unexpected peal of contralto laughter, and his lips parted slightly +with the surprise of it. + +They parted much farther in the next instant--in good truth, it may +be stated of the gentleman that he was left with his mouth open--for, +suddenly leaning toward him out of the shadow into the light, her face +shining as a cast of tragedy, she cried in a hoarse whisper: + +“Are you a murderer?” + +And with that and a whisk of her skirts, and a footfall on the gravel +path, she was gone. He stood dumbfounded, poor comedian, having come to +play the chief role, but to find the scene taken out of his hands. Then +catching the flutter of her wrap, as she disappeared into the darkness +of the veranda, he cried in a loud, manly voice: + +“You are a dear!” + +As he came out into the street through a gap in the hedge, he paused, +drawing his cloak about him, and lifted his face to the eastern moon. It +was a strange face: the modelling most like what is called “Greek,” save +for the nose, which was a trifle too short for that, and the features +showed a happy purity of outline almost childlike; the blue eyes, +clear, fleckless, serenely irresponsible, with more the look of refusing +responsibility than being unconscious of it; eyes without care, without +prudence, and without evil. A stranger might have said he was about +twenty-five and had never a thought in his life. There were some +blossoms on the hedge, and he touched one lightly, as though he chucked +it under the chin; he smiled upon it then, but not as he had smiled upon +Miss Betty, for this was his own, the smile that came when he was alone; +and, when it came, the face was no longer joyous as it had been in +repose; there was an infinite patience and worn tolerance-possibly for +himself. This incongruous and melancholy smile was astonishing: one +looked for the laughter of a boy and found, instead, a gentle, worldly, +old prelate. + +Standing there, all alone in the moonlight, by the hedge, he lifted both +hands high and waved them toward the house, as children wave to each +other across lawns at twilight. After that he made a fantastic bow to +his corrugated shadow on the board sidewalk. + +“Again, you rogue!” he exclaimed aloud. Then, as he faced about and +began to walk in the direction of the beckoning violins: “I wonder if +Tom's kitten was better, after all!” + + + +CHAPTER III. The Rogue's Gallery of a Father Should be Exhibited to a +Daughter with Particular Care + +Those angels appointed to be guardians of the merry people of Rouen, +poising one night, between earth and stars, discovered a single +brilliant and resonant spot, set in the midst of the dark, quiet town +like a jewelled music-box on a black cloth. Sounds of revelry and the +dance from the luminous spot came up through the summer stillness to the +weary guardians all night long, until, at last, when a red glow stole +into the east, and the dance still continued, nay, grew faster than +ever, the celestial watchers found the work too heavy for their +strength, and forthwith departed, leaving the dancers to their own +devices; for, as everyone knows, when a dance lasts till daylight, +guardian angels flee. + +All night long the fiddles had been swinging away at their best; all +night long the candles had shone in thin rows of bright orange through +the slits of the window-blinds; but now, as the day broke over the +maples, the shutters were flung open by laughing young men, and the +drivers of the carriages, waiting in the dusty street, pressed up closer +to the hedge, or came within and stretched themselves upon the lawn, +to see the people waltzing in the daylight. The horses, having no such +desires, stood with loosened check-reins, slightly twitching their upper +lips, wistful of the tall grass which bordered the wooden sidewalk, +though now and then one would lift his head high, sniffing the morning +air and bending an earnest gaze not upon the dancers but upon the florid +east. + +Over the unwearied plaint of French-horn, violin, and bassoon, rose +a silvery confusion of voices and laughter and the sound of a hundred +footfalls in unison, while, from the open windows there issued a warm +breath, heavily laden with the smell of scented fans, of rich fabrics, +of dying roses, to mingle with the spicy perfume of a wild crab-tree +in fullest blossom, which stood near enough to peer into the ball-room, +and, like a brocaded belle herself, challenge the richest to show +raiment as fine, the loveliest to look as fair and joyful in the dawn.. + +“Believe me, of all those endearing young charms, Which I gaze on so +fondly to-day, Were to fade by to-morrow and fleet from my arms, Like +fairy gifts fading away--” + +So ran the violins in waltz time, so bassoon and horn to those dulcet +measures; and then, with one accord, a hundred voices joined them in the +old, sweet melody: + +“Thou wouldst still be adored as this moment thou art, Let thy +loveliness fade as it will; And around the dear ruin each wish of my +heart Would entwine itself verdantly still.” + +And the jealous crab-tree found but one to overmatch itself in beauty: +a lady who was the focus of the singing; for, by the time the shutters +were flung open, there was not a young man in the room, lacked he never +so greatly in music or in voice, who did not heartily desire to sing +to Miss Betty Carewe, and who did not now (craning neck over partner's +shoulder) seek to fix her with his glittering eye, while he sang “Oh, +believe me” most directly and conspicuously at her. For that night was +the beginning of Miss Betty's famous career as the belle of Rouen, and +was the date from which strangers were to hear of her as “the beautiful +Miss Carewe,” until “beautiful” was left off, visitors to the town being +supposed to have heard at least that much before they came. + +There had been much discussion of her, though only one or two had caught +glimpses of her; but most of the gallants appeared to agree with Crailey +Gray, who aired his opinion--in an exceedingly casual way--at the little +club on Main Street. Mr. Gray held that when the daughter of a man as +rich as Bob Carewe was heralded as a beauty the chances were that she +would prove disappointing, and, for his part, he was not even interested +enough to attend and investigate. So he was going down the river in a +canoe and preferred the shyness of bass to that of a girl of eighteen +just from the convent, he said. Tom Vanrevel was not present on the +occasion of these remarks; and the general concurrence with Crailey may +be suspected as a purely verbal one, since, when the evening came, +two of the most enthusiastic dancers and love-makers of the town, +the handsome Tappingham Marsh and that doughty ex-dragoon and Indian +fighter, stout old General Trumble, were upon the field before the enemy +appeared; that is to say, they were in the new ball-room before their +host; indeed, the musicians had not arrived, and Nelson, an aged negro +servitor, was engaged in lighting the house. + +The crafty pair had planned this early descent with a view to monopoly +by right of priority, in case the game proved worth the candle, and they +were leaning effectively against the little railing about the musicians' +platform when Mr. Carewe entered the room with his daughter on his arm. + +She was in white, touched with countless small lavender flowers; there +were rows and rows of wonderful silk and lace flounces on her skirt, and +her fan hung from a rope of great pearls. Ah, hideous, blue, rough cloth +of the convent, unforgotten, but laid aside forever, what a chrysalis +you were! + +Tappingham twitched his companion's sleeve, but the General was already +posing; and neither heard the words of presentation, because Miss Betty +gave each of them a quick look, then smiled upon them as they bowed; the +slayers were prostrated before their prey. Never were lady-killers more +instantaneously tamed and subjugated by the power of the feminine eye. +Will Cummings came in soon, and, almost upon his heels, Eugene Madrillon +and young Frank Chenoweth. No others appeared for half an hour, and +the five gentlemen looked at one another aside, each divining his own +diplomacy in his fellow's eye, and each laboriously explaining to +the others his own mistake in regard to the hour designated upon Mr. +Carewe's cards of invitation. This small embarrassment, however, did +not prevent General Trumble and young Mr. Chenoweth from coming to high +words over Miss Carewe's little, gilt-filigree “programme” of dances. + +It may be not untimely to remark, also, of these five redoubtable beaux, +that, during the evening, it occurred to every one of them to be glad +that Crailey Gray was betrothed to Fanchon Bareaud, and that he was down +on the Rouen River with a canoe, a rod and a tent. Nay, without more +words, to declare the truth in regard to Crailey, they felt greater +security in his absence from the field than in his betrothal. As Mr. +Chenoweth, a youth as open as out-of-doors, both in countenance and +mind, observed plaintively to Tappingham Marsh in a corner, while they +watched Miss Betty's lavender flowers miraculously swirling through a +quadrille: “Crailey, you know, well, Crailey's been engaged before!” It +was not Mr. Chenoweth's habit to disguise his apprehensions, and Crailey +Gray would not fish for bass forever. + +The same Chenoweth was he, who, maddened by the General's triumphantly +familiar way of toying with Miss Betty's fan between two dances, +attempted to propose to her during the sunrise waltz. Having sung +“Oh, believe me” in her ear as loudly as he could, he expressed the +wish--quite as loudly--“That this waltz might last for always!” + +That was the seventh time it had been said to Betty during the night, +and though Mr. Chenoweth's predecessors had revealed their desires in +a guise lacking this prodigious artlessness, she already possessed no +novel acquaintance with the exclamation. But she made no comment; her +partner's style was not a stimulant to repartee. “It would be +heaven,” he amplified earnestly, “it would be heaven to dance with you +forever--on a desert isle where the others couldn't come!” he finished +with sudden acerbity as his eye caught the General's. + +He proceeded, and only the cessation of the music aided Miss Carewe in +stopping the declaration before it was altogether out; and at that point +Frank's own father came to her rescue, though in a fashion little saving +of her confusion. The elder Chenoweth was one of the gallant and kindly +Southern colony that made it natural for Rouen always to speak of Miss +Carewe as “Miss Betty”. He was a handsome old fellow, whose hair, +long moustache and imperial were as white as he was proud of them, a +Virginian with the admirable Southern fearlessness of being thought +sentimental. Mounting a chair with complete dignity, he lifted a glass +of wine high in the air, and, when all the other glasses had been +filled, proposed the health of his young hostess. He made a speech of +some length, pronouncing himself quite as hopelessly in love with his +old friend's daughter as all could see his own son was; and wishing her +long life and prosperity, with many allusions to fragrant bowers and the +Muses. + +It made Miss Betty happy, but it was rather trying, too, for she could +only stand with downcast eyes before them all, trembling a little, +and receiving a mixed impression of Mr. Chenoweth's remarks, catching +fragments here and there: “And may the blush upon that gentle cheek, +lovelier than the radiant clouds at set of sun,” and “Yet the sands of +the hour-glass must fall, and in the calm and beauteous old age some +day to be her lot, when fond mem'ry leads her back to view again the +brilliant scene about her now, where stand 'fair women and brave men,' +winecup in hand to do her honor, oh, may she wipe the silent tear”, and +the like. As the old gentleman finished, and before the toast was drunk, +Fanchon Bareaud, kissing her hand to Betty, took up the song again; and +they all joined in, lifting their glasses to the blushing and happy girl +clinging to her father's arm: + +“Thou wouldst still be adored as this moment thou art, Let thy +loveliness fade as it will; And around the dear ruin, each wish of my +heart, Would entwine itself verdantly still.” + +They were happy people who had not learned to be self-conscious enough +to fear doing a pretty thing openly without mocking themselves for it; +and it was a brave circle they made about Betty Carewe, the charming +faces of the women and their fine furbelows, handsome men and tall, all +so gay, so cheerily smiling, and yet so earnest in their welcome to +her. No one was afraid to “let out” his voice; their song went full and +strong over the waking town, and when it was finished the ball was over, +too. + +The veranda and the path to the gate became like tropic gardens, the +fair colors of the women's dresses, ballooning in the early breeze, +making the place seem strewn with giant blossoms. They all went away at +the same time, those in carriages calling farewells to each other and +to the little processions departing on foot in different directions to +homes near by. The sound of the voices and laughter drew away, slowly +died out altogether, and the silence of the street was strange and +unfamiliar to Betty. She went to the hedge and watched the musicians, +who were the last to go, until they passed from sight: little black +toilsome figures, carrying grotesque black boxes. While she could still +see them, it seemed to her that her ball was not quite over, and she +wished to hold the least speck of it as long as she could; but when +they had disappeared, she faced the truth with a deep sigh: the long, +glorious night was finished indeed. + +What she needed now was another girl: the two would have gone to Betty's +room and danced it all over again until noon; but she had only her +father. She found him smoking a Principe cigar upon the veranda, so she +seated herself timidly, nevertheless with a hopeful glance at him, on +the steps at his feet; and, as she did so, he looked down upon her with +something more akin to geniality than anything she had ever seen in his +eye before. It was not geniality itself, but might be third cousin to +it. Indeed, in his way, he was almost proud of her, though he had no +wish to show it. Since one was compelled to display the fact that one +possessed a grown daughter, it was well that she be like this one. + +They did not know each other very well, and she often doubted that they +would ever become intimate. There was no sense of companionship +for either in the other; she had been unable to break through his +perfunctory, almost formal, manner with her; therefore, because he +encouraged no af-fection in her, she felt none, and wondered why, since +he was her father. She was more curious about him than interested, +and, though she did not know it, she was prepared to judge him--should +occasion arise--precisely as she would judge any other mere +acquaintance. This morning, for the first time, she was conscious of a +sense of warmth and gratitude toward him: the elaborate fashion in which +he had introduced her to his friends made it appear possible that he +liked her; for he had forgotten nothing, and to remember everything +in this case was to be lavish, which has often the appearance of +generosity. + +And yet there had been a lack: some small thing she had missed, though +she was not entirely sure that she identified it; but the lack had not +been in her father or in anything he had done. Then, too, there was +something so unexpectedly human and pleasant in his not going to bed at +once, but remaining to smoke on the veranda at this hour, that she gave +him credit for a little of her own excitement, innocently fancying that +he, also, might feel the need of a companion with whom to talk over the +brilliant passages of the night. And a moment ensued when she debated +taking his hand. She was too soon glad that her intuition forbade the +demonstration. + +“It was all so beautiful, papa,” she said, timidly. “I have no way to +tell you how I thank you.” + +“You may do that,” he replied, evenly, with no unkindness, with no +kindness, either, in the level of his tone, “by never dancing again more +than twice with one man in one evening.” + +“I think I should much prefer not, myself,” she returned, lifting her +head to face him gravely. “I believe if I cared to dance more than once +with one, I should like to dance all of them with him.” + +Mr. Carewe frowned. “I trust that you discovered none last night whom +you wished to honor with your entire programme?” + +“No,” she laughed, “not last night.” + +Her father tossed away his cigar abruptly “Is it too much to hope,” he +inquired, “that when you discover a gentleman with whom you desire to +waltz all night, you will omit to mention the fact to him?” + +There was a brief flash of her eye as she recalled her impulse to +take his hand, but she immediately looked at him with such complete +seriousness that he feared his irony had been thrown away. + +“I'll remember not to mention it,” she answered. “I'll tell him you told +me not too.” + +“I think you may retire now,” said Mr. Carewe, sharply. + +She rose from the steps, went to the door, then turned at the threshold. +“Were all your friends here, papa?” + +“Do you think that every ninny who gabbled in my house last night was my +friend?” he said, angrily. “There was one friend of mine, Mrs. Tanberry, +who wasn't here, because she is out of town; but I do not imagine that +you are inquiring about women. You mean: Was every unmarried male +idiot who could afford a swallow-tailed coat and a clean pair of gloves +cavorting about the place? Yes, miss, they were all here except two, and +one of those is a fool, the other a knave.” + +“Can't I know the fool?” she asked, eagerly. + +“I rejoice to find them so rare in your experience!” he retorted. “This +one is out of town, though I have no doubt you will see him sufficiently +often when he returns. His name is Crailey Gray, and he is to marry +Fanchon Bareaud--if he remembers!” + +“And the knave?” + +“Is one!” Carewe shut his teeth with a venomous snap, and his whole +face reddened suddenly. “I'll mention this fellow once--now,” he said, +speaking each word with emphasis. “His name is Vanrevel. You see that +gate; you see the line of my property there: the man himself, as well +as every other person in the town, remembers well that the last time I +spoke to him, it was to tell him that if he ever set foot on ground of +mine I'd shoot him down, and he knows, and they all know, I shall keep +my word! Elsewhere, I told him that for the sake of public peace, I +should ignore him. I do. You will see him everywhere; but it will not be +difficult; no one will have the hardihood to present him to my daughter. +The quarrel between us--” Mr. Carewe broke off for a moment, his hands +clinching the arms of his chair, while he swallowed with difficulty, as +though he choked upon some acrid bolus, and he was so strongly agitated +by his own mention of his enemy that he controlled himself by a painful +effort of his will. “The quarrel between us is political--and personal. +You will remember.” + +“I shall remember,” she answered in a rather frightened voice. + +... It was long before she fell asleep. “I alone must hover about the +gates or steal into your garden like a thief,” the Incroyable had said. +“The last time I spoke to him it was to tell him that if he ever set +foot on ground of mine, I'd shoot him down!” had been her father's +declaration. And Mr. Carewe had spoken with the most undeniable air of +meaning what he said. Yet she knew that the Incroyable would come again. + +Also, with hot cheeks pressed into her pillow, Miss Betty had identified +the young man in the white hat, that dark person whose hand she had far +too impetuously seized in both of hers. Aha! It was this gentleman +who looked into people's eyes and stammered so sincerely over a pretty +speech that you almost believed him, it was he who was to marry Fanchon +Bareaud--“if he remembers!” No wonder Fanchon had been in such a +hurry to get him away.... “If he remembers!” Such was that young man's +character, was it? Miss Carewe laughed aloud to her pillow: for, was one +to guess the reason, also, of his not having come to her ball? Had the +poor man been commanded to be “out of town?” + +Then, remembering the piquant and generous face of Fanchon, Betty +clinched her fingers tightly and crushed the imp who had suggested the +unworthy thought, crushed him to a wretched pulp and threw him out of +the open window. He immediately sneaked in by the back way, for, in +spite of her victory, she still felt a little sorry for poor Fanchon. + + + +CHAPTER IV. “But Spare Your Country's Flag” + +If it be true that love is the great incentive to the useless arts, the +number of gentlemen who became poets for the sake of Miss Betty Carewe +need not be considered extraordinary. Of all that was written of her +dancing, Tom Vanrevel's lines, “I Danced with Her beneath the Lights” + (which he certainly had not done when he wrote them) were, perhaps, next +to Crailey Gray's in merit, though Tom burned his rhymes after reading +them to Crailey. Other troubadours were not so modest, and the Rouen +Journal found no lack of tuneful offering, that spring, generously +print-ing all of it, even at the period when it became epidemic. The +public had little difficulty in recognizing the work of Mr. Francis +Chenoweth in an anonymous “Sonnet” (of twenty-three lines) which +appeared in the issue following Miss Carewe's debut. Mr. Chenoweth +wrote that while dancing the mazourka with a Lovely Being, the sweetest +feelings of his soul, in a celestial stream, bore him away beyond +control, in a seraphic dream; and he untruthfully stated that at the +same time he saw her wipe the silent tear, omitting, however, to venture +any explanation of the cause of her emotion. Old General Trumble +boldly signed his poem in full. It was called “An Ode upon Miss C--'s +Waltzing,” and it began: + +“When Bettina found fair Rouen's shore, And her aged father to us bore +Her from the cloister neat, She waltzed upon the ball-room floor, And +lightly twirled upon her feet.” + +Mr. Carewe was rightfully indignant, and refused to acknowledge the +General's salutation at their next meeting: Trumble was fifteen years +older than he. + +As Crailey Gray never danced with Miss Carewe, it is somewhat singular +that she should have been the inspiration of his swinging verses in +waltz measure, “Heart-strings on a Violin,” the sense of which was +that when a violin had played for her dancing, the instrument should +be shattered as wine-glasses are after a great toast. However, no one, +except the author himself, knew that Betty was the subject; for Crailey +certainly did not mention it to Miss Bareaud, nor to his best friend, +Vanrevel. + +It was to some degree a strange comradeship between these two young men; +their tastes led them so often in opposite directions. They had rooms +to-gether over their offices in the “Madrillon Block” on Main Street, +and the lights shone late from their windows every night in the year. +Sometimes that would mean only that the two friends were talking, for +they never reached a silent intimacy, but, even after several years of +companionship, were rarely seen together when not in interested, often +eager, conversation, so that people wondered what in the world they +still found to say to each other. But many a night the late-shining +lamp meant that Tom sat alone, with a brief or a book, or wooed the long +hours with his magical guitar. For he never went to bed until the other +came home. + +And if daylight came without Crailey, Vanrevel would go out, yawning +mightily, to look for him; and when there was no finding him, Tom would +come back, sleepless, to the day's work. Crailey was called “peculiar” + and he explained, with a kind of jovial helplessness, that he was always +prepared for the unexpected in himself, nor did such a view detract from +his picturesqueness to his own perusal of himself; though it was not +only to himself that he was interesting. To the vision of the lookers-on +in Rouen, quiet souls who hovered along the walls at merry-makings and +cheerfully counted themselves spectators at the play, Crailey Gray held +the centre of the stage and was the chief comedian of the place. Wit, +poet, and scapegrace, the small society sometimes seemed the mere +background set for his performances, spectacles which he, also, enjoyed, +and from the best seat in the house; for he was not content as the +actor, but must be the Prince in the box as well. + +His friendship for Tom Vanrevel was, in a measure, that of the vine for +the oak. He was full of levities at Tom's expense, which the other +bore with a grin of sympathetic comprehension, or, at long intervals, +returned upon Crailey with devastating effect. Vanrevel was the one +steadying thing in his life, and, at the same time, the only one of the +young men upon whom he did not have an almost mesmeric influence. In +good truth, Crailey was the ringleader in all the devilries of the town. +Many a youth swore to avoid the roisterer's company for all time, and, +within two hours of the vow, found himself, flagon in hand, engaged in +a bout that would last the night, with Mr. Gray out-bumpering the +hardiest, at the head of the table. And, the next morning, the fevered, +scarlet-eyed perjurer might creep shaking to his wretched tasks, only +to behold the cause of his folly and headache tripping merrily along the +street, smiling, clean-shaven, and fresh as a dew-born primrose, with, +perchance, two or three of the prettiest girls in town at his elbow to +greet his sallies with approving laughter. + +Crailey had been so long in the habit of following every impulse, +no matter how mad, that he enjoyed an almost perfect immunity from +condemnation, and, whatever his deeds, Rouen had learned to say, with +a chuckle, that it was “only Crailey Gray again.” But his followers were +not so privileged. Thus, when Mr. Gray, who in his libations sometimes +developed the humor of an urchin, went to the Pound at three in the +morning of New Year's Day, hung sleigh-bells about the necks of the +cattle and drove them up and down the streets, himself hideously blowing +a bass horn from the back of a big brown steer, those roused from +slumber ceased to rage, and accepted the exploit as a rare joke, on +learning that it was “only Crailey Gray;” but the unfortunate young +Chenoweth was heavily frowned upon and properly upbraided because he had +followed in the wake of the bovine procession, mildly attempting to play +upon a flageolet. + +Crailey never denied a folly nor defended an escapade. The latter was +always done for him, because he talked of his “graceless misdoings” (so +he was wont, smilingly, to call them) over cups of tea in the afternoons +with old ladies, lamenting, in his musical voice, the lack of female +relatives to guide him. He was charmingly attentive to the elderly +women, not from policy, but because his manner was uncontrollably +chivalrous; and, ever a gallant listener, were the speaker young, old, +great or humble, he never forgot to catch the last words of a sentence, +and seldom suffered for a reply, even when he had drowsed through a +question. Moreover, no one ever heard him speak a sullen word, nor saw +him wear a brow of depression. The single creed to which he was constant +was that of good cheer; he was the very apostle of gayety, preaching +it in parlor and bar; and made merry friends with battered tramps and +homeless dogs in the streets at night. + +Now and then he would spend several days in the offices of Gray +& Vanrevel, Attorneys and Counsellors-at-Law, wearing an air of +unassailable virtue; though he did not far overstate the case when he +said, “Tom does all the work and gives me all the money not to bother +him when he's getting up a case.” + +The working member of the firm got up cases to notable effect, and few +lawyers in the State enjoyed having Tom Vanrevel on the other side. +There was nothing about him of the floridity prevalent at that time; he +withered “oratory” before the court; he was the foe of jury pathos; and, +despising noise and the habitual voice-dip at the end of a sentence, +was, nevertheless, at times an almost fearfully effective orator. So, +by degrees the firm of Gray & Vanrevel, young as it was, and in spite +of the idle apprentice, had grown to be the most prosperous in the +district. For this eminence Crailey was never accused of assuming the +credit. Nor did he ever miss an opportunity of making known how much he +owed to his partner. What he owed, in brief, was everything. How well +Vanrevel worked was demonstrated every day, but how hard he worked, +only Crailey knew. The latter had grown to depend upon him for even his +political beliefs, and lightly followed his partner into Abolitionism; +though that was to risk unpopularity, bitter hatred, and worse. +Fortunately, on certain occasions, Vanrevel had made himself (if not +his creed) respected, at least so far that there was no longer danger +of mob-violence for an Abolitionist in Rouen. He was a cool-headed +young man ordinarily, and possessed of an elusive forcefulness not to +be trifled with, though he was a quiet man, and had what they called a +“fine manner.” And, not in the latter, but in his dress, there was an +echo of the Beau, which afforded Mr. Gray a point of attack for sallies +of wit; there was a touch of the dandy about Vanrevel; he had a large +and versatile wardrobe, and his clothes always fit him not only in line +but in color; even women saw how nobly they were fashioned. + +These two young men were members of a cheerful band, who feasted, +laughed, wrangled over politics, danced, made love, and sang terrible +chords on summer evenings, together, as young men will. Will Cummings, +editor of the Rouen Journal, was one of these; a tall, sallow man, very +thin, very awkward and very gentle. Mr. Cummings proved himself always +ready with a loud and friendly laugh for the poorest joke in the world, +his countenance shining with such kindness that no one ever had the +heart to reproach him with the evils of his journalistic performances, +or for the things he broke when he danced. Another was Tappingham Marsh, +an exceedingly handsome person, somewhat languid in appearance, dainty +in manner with women, offhand with men; almost as reckless as Crailey, +and often the latter's companion and assistant in dissipation. Young +Francis Chenoweth never failed to follow both into whatever they +planned; he was short and pink, and the uptilt of his nose was coherent +with the appealing earnest-ness which was habitual with him. Eugene +Madrillon was the sixth of these intimates; a dark man, whose Latin eyes +and color advertised his French ancestry as plainly as his emotionless +mouth and lack of gesture betrayed the mingling of another strain. + +All these, and others of the town, were wont to “talk politics” a great +deal at the little club on Main Street and all were apt to fall foul of +Tom Vanrevel or Crailey Gray before the end of any discussion. For those +were the days when they twisted the Lion's tail in vehement and bitter +earnest; when the eagle screamed in mixed figures; when few men knew how +to talk, and many orated; when party strife was savagely personal; when +intolerance was called the “pure fire of patriotism;” when criticism of +the existing order of things surely incurred fiery anathema and black +invective; and brave was he, indeed, who dared to hint that his country, +as a whole and politically, did lack some two or three particular +virtues, and that the first step toward obtaining them would be to help +it to realize their absence. + +This latter point-of-view was that of the firm of Gray & Vanrevel, +which was a unit in such matters. Crailey did most of the talking--quite +beautifully, too--and both had to stand against odds in many a sour +argument, for they were not only Abolitionists, but opposed the attitude +of their country in its difficulty with Mexico; and, in common with +other men of the time who took their stand, they had to grow accustomed +to being called Disloyal Traitors, Foreign Toadies, Malignants, and +Traducers of the Flag. Tom had long been used to epithets of this sort, +suffering their sting in quiet, and was glad when he could keep Crailey +out of worse employment than standing firm for an unpopular belief. + +There was one place to which Vanrevel, seeking his friend and partner, +when the latter did not come home at night, could not go; this was the +Tower Chamber, and it was in that mysterious apartment of the Carewe +cupola that Crailey was apt to be deeply occupied when he remained away +until daylight. Strange as it appears, Mr. Gray maintained peculiar +relations of intimacy with Robert Carewe, in spite of the feud between +Carewe and his own best friend. This intimacy, which did not necessarily +imply any mutual fondness (though Crailey seemed to dislike nobody), was +betokened by a furtive understanding, of a sort, between them. They held +brief, earnest conversations on the street, or in corners when they +met at other people's houses, always speaking in voices too low to be +overheard; and they exercised a mysterious symbolism, somewhat in the +manner of fellow members of a secret society: they had been observed to +communicate across crowded rooms, by lifted eyebrow, nod of head, or a +surreptitious turn of the wrist: so that those who observed them knew +that a question had been asked and answered. + +It was noticed, also, that there were five other initiates to this +masonry: Eugene Madrillon, the elder Chenoweth, General Trumble, +Tappingham Marsh, and Jefferson Bareaud. Thus, on the afternoon +following Miss Betty's introduction to Rouen's favorite sons and +daughters, Mr. Carewe, driving down Main Street, held up one forefinger +to Madrillon as he saw the young man turning in at the club. Eugene +nodded gravely, and, as he went in, discovering Marsh, the General, and +others, listening to Mr. Gray's explanation of his return from the river +with no fish, stealthily held up one finger in his turn. Trumble replied +with a wink, Tappingham nodded, but Crailey slightly shook his head. +Marsh and the General started with surprise, and stared incredulously. +That Crailey should shake his head! If the signal had been for a +church-meeting they might have understood. + +Mr. Gray's conduct was surprising two other people at about the same +time: Tom Vanrevel and Fanchon Bareaud; the former by his sudden +devotion to the law; the latter by her sudden devotion to herself. In a +breath, he became almost a domestic character. No more did he spend his +afternoons between the club and the Rouen House bar, nor was his bay +mare so often seen stamping down the ground about Mrs. McDougal's +hitching-post while McDougal was out on the prairie with his engineering +squad. The idle apprentice was at his desk, and in the daytime he +displayed an aversion for the streets, which was more than his partner +did, for the industrious Tom, undergoing quite as remarkable an +alteration of habit, became, all at once, little better than a +corner-loafer. His favorite lounging-place was a small drug-store +where Carewe Street debouched upon Main; nevertheless, so adhesive is a +reputation once fastened, his air of being there upon business deceived +everyone except Mr. Gray. + +Miss Bareaud was even happier than she was astonished (and she was +mightily astonished) to find her betrothed developing a taste for her +society alone. Formerly, she had counted upon the gayeties of her home +to keep Crailey near her; now, however, he told her tenderly he wished +to have her all to himself. This was not like him, but Fanchon did not +question; and it was very sweet to her that he began to make it his +custom to come in by a side gate and meet her under an apple-tree in +the dusk, where they would sit quietly together through the evening, +listening to the noise and laughter from the lighted house. + +That house was the most hospitable in Rouen. Always cheerfully “full of +company,” as they said, it was the sort of house where a carpet-dance +could be arranged in half an hour; a house with a sideboard like +the widow's cruse; the young men always found more. Mrs. Bareaud, a +Southerner, loving to persuade the visitor that her home was his, not +hers, lived only for her art, which was that of the table. Evil +cooks, taking service with her, became virtuous, dealt with nectar and +ambrosia, and grew fit to pander to Olympus, learning of their mistress +secrets to make the ill-disposed as genial gods ere they departed. Mr. +Bareaud at fifty had lived so well that he gave up walking, which did +not trouble him; but at sixty he gave up dancing, which did trouble him. +His only hope, he declared, was in Crailey Gray's promise to invent for +him: a concave partner. + +There was a thin, quizzing shank of a son, Jefferson, who lived upon +quinine, ague and deviltry; and there were the two daughters, Fanchon +and Virginia. The latter was three years older than Fanchon, as dark as +Fanchon was fair, though not nearly so pretty: a small, good-natured, +romping sprite of a girl, who had handed down the heart and hand of +Crailey Gray to her sister with the best grace in the world. For she +had been the heroine of one of Mr. Gray's half-dozen or so most serious +affairs, and, after a furious rivalry with Mr. Carewe, the victory +was generally conceded to Crailey. His triumph had been of about a +fort-night's duration when Fanchon returned from St. Mary's; and, +with the advent of the younger sister, the elder, who had decided that +Crailey was the incomparable she had dreamed of since infancy, was +generously allowed to discover that he was not that vision--that she had +fallen in love with her own idea of him; whereas Fanchon cared only +that he be Crailey Gray, whatever kind of vision that was. And Fanchon +discovered that it was a great many kinds. + +The transfer was made comfortably, with nice judgment of a respectable +interregnum, and to the greater happiness of each of the three young +people; no objection ensuing from the easy-going parents, who were +devotedly fond of Crailey, while the town laughed and said it was +only that absurd Crailey Gray again. He and Virginia were the best of +friends, and accepted their new relation with a preposterous lack of +embarrassment. + +To be in love with Crailey became Fanchon's vocation; she spent all her +time at it, and produced a blurred effect upon strangers. The only man +with whom she seemed quite alive was Vanrevel: a little because Tom +talked of Crailey, and a great deal because she could talk of Crailey to +Tom; could tell him freely, as she could tell no one else, how wonderful +Crailey was, and explain to him her lover's vagaries on the ground that +it was a necessity of geniuses to be unlike the less gifted. Nor was she +alone in suspecting Mr. Gray of genius: in the first place, he was so +odd; in the second, his poems were “already attracting more than local +attention,” as the Journal remarked, generously, for Crailey had ceased +to present his rhymes to that valuable paper. Ay! Boston, no less, was +his mart. + +He was rather radical in his literary preferences, and hurt the elder +Chenoweth's feelings by laughing heartily at some poems of the late Lord +Byron; offended many people by disliking the style of Sir Edward Bulwer, +and even refused to admit that James Fenimore Cooper was the greatest +novelist that ever lived. But these things were as nothing compared with +his unpatriotic defence of Charles Dickens. Many Americans had fallen +into a great rage over the vivacious assault upon the United States in +“Martin Chuzzlewit;” nevertheless, Crailey still boldly hailed him (as +everyone had heretofore agreed) the most dexterous writer of his day and +the most notable humorist of any day. Of course the Englishman had not +visited and thoroughly studied such a city as Rouen, Crailey confessed, +twinklingly; but, after all, wasn't there some truth in “Martin +Chuzzlewit?” Mr. Dickens might have been far from a clear understanding +of our people; but didn't it argue a pretty ticklish vanity in ourselves +that we were so fiercely resentful of satire; and was not this very heat +over “Martin Chuzzlewit” a confirmation of one of the points the book +had presented against us? General Trumble replied to this suggestion +with a personal one to the effect that a man capable of saying a good +word for so monstrous a slander, that a man, sir, capable of declaring +his native country to be vain or sensitive ought to be horsewhipped, and +at this Crailey laughed consumedly. + +Trumble retorted with the names of Benedict Arnold and Aaron Burr. “And +if it comes to a war with these Greasers,” he spluttered apoplectically, +“and it is coming, mighty soon, we'll find Mr. Gray down in Mexico, +throwing mud on the Stars and Stripes and cheering for that one-legged +horse-thief, Santa Anna! Anything to seek out something foolish amongst +your own people!” + +“Don't have to seek far, sometimes, General,” murmured Crailey, from the +depths of the best chair in the club, whereupon Trumble, not trusting +himself to answer, went out to the street. + +And yet, before that same evening was over, the General had shed honest +tears of admiration and pity for Crailey Gray; and Miss Betty saw her +Incroyable again, for that night (the second after the Carewe dance) +Rouen beheld the great warehouse tire. + + + +CHAPTER V. Nero not the Last Violinist of his Kind + +Miss Carewe was at her desk, writing to Sister Cecilia, whom she most +loved of all the world, when the bells startled her with their sudden +clangor. The quill dropped from her hand; she started to her feet, +wide-eyed, not understanding; while the whole town, drowsing peacefully +a moment ago, resounded immediately with a loud confusion. She ran to +the front door and looked out, her heart beating wildly. + +The western sky was touched with a soft rose-color, which quickly became +a warm glow, fluctuated, and, in the instant, shot up like the coming of +a full Aurora. Then through the broken foliage of the treetops could be +seen the orange curls of flames, three-quarters of a mile away though +they were. + +People, calling loudly that “it was Carewe's warehouses,” were running +down the street. From the stable, old Nelson, on her father's best +horse, came galloping, and seeing the white figure in the doorway, cried +out in a quavering voice, without checking his steed. + +“I goin' tell yo' pa, Miss Betty, he in de kentry on lan' bus'ness. Go +back in de house, Missy!” + +The other servants, like ragged sketches in the night, flitted by, with +excited ejaculations, to join the runners, and Miss Betty followed them +across the dew-strewn turf in her night slippers, but at the gate she +stopped. + +From up the street came the sound of a bell smaller than those of the +churches and courthouse, yet one that outdid all others in the madness +of its appeal to clear the way. It was borne along by what seemed at +first an indefinite black mass, but which--as the Aurora grew keener, +producing even here a faint, yellow twilight--resolved itself into a +mob of hoarsely-shouting men and boys, who were running and tugging at +ropes, which drew along three extraordinary vehicles. They came rapidly +down the street and passed Miss Betty with a hubbub and din beyond all +understanding; one line of men, most of them in red shirts and oil-cloth +helmets, at a dead run with the hose-cart; a second line with the +hand-engine; the third dragging the ladder-wagon. One man was riding, a +tall, straight gentleman in evening clothes and without a hat, who stood +precariously in the hose-cart, calling in an annoyed tone through a +brazen trumpet. Miss Betty recognized him at once; it was he who caught +her kitten; and she thought that if she had been Fanchon Bareaud she +must have screamed a warning, for his balance appeared a thing of mere +luck, and, if he fell, he would be trampled under foot and probably run +over by the engine. But, happily (she remembered), she was not Fanchon +Bareaud! + +Before, behind, and beside the Department, raced a throng of boys, +wild with the joy experienced by their species when property is being +handsomely destroyed; after them came panting women, holding their sides +and gasping with the effort to keep up with the flying procession. + +Miss Betty trembled, for she had never seen the like in her life; she +stood close to the hedge and let them go by; then she turned in after +them and ran like a fleet young deer. She was going to the fire. + +Over all the uproar could be heard the angry voice through the trumpet, +calling the turns of the streets to the men in the van, upbraiding them +and those of the other two companies impartially; and few of his hearers +denied the chief his right to express some chagrin; since the Department +(organized a half-year, hard-drilled, and this its first fire worth the +name) was late on account of the refusal of the members to move until +they had donned their new uniforms; for the uniforms had arrived from +Philadelphia two months ago, and tonight offered the first opportunity +to display them in public. + +“Hail Vanrevel!” panted Tappingham Marsh to Eugene Madrillon, as the +two, running in the van of the “Hose Company,” splattered through a +mud-puddle. “You'd think he was Carewe's only son and heir instead of +his worst enemy. Hark to the man!” + +“I'd let it burn, if I were he,” returned the other. + +“It was all Crailey's fault,” said Tappingham, swinging an arm free +to wipe the spattered mud from his face. “He swore he wouldn't budge +without his uniform, and the rest only backed him up; that was all. +Crailey said Carewe could better afford to lose his shanties than the +overworked Department its first chance to look beautiful and earnest. +Tom asked him why he didn't send for a fiddle,” Marsh finished with a +chuckle. + +“Carewe might afford to lose a little, even a warehouse or two, if only +out of what he's taken from Crailey and the rest of us, these three +years!” + +“Taken from Vanrevel, you mean. Who doesn't know where Crailey's--Here's +Main Street; look out for the turn!” + +They swung out of the thick shadows of Carewe Street into full view of +the fire, and their faces were illuminated as by sunrise. + +The warehouses stood on the river-bank, at the foot of the street, +just south of the new “covered bridge.” There were four of them, huge, +bare-sided buildings; the two nearer the bridge of brick, the others +of wood, and all of them rich with stores of every kind of +river-merchandise and costly freight: furniture that had voyaged from +New England down the long coast, across the Mexican Gulf, through +the flat Delta, and had made the winding journey up the great river a +thousand miles, and almost a thousand more, following the greater +and lesser tributaries; cloth from Connecticut that had been sold in +Philadelphia, then carried over mountains and through forests by steam, +by canal, by stage, and six-mule freight-wagons, to Pittsburg, down the +Ohio, and thence up to Rouen on the packet; Tennessee cotton, on its way +to Massachusetts and Rhode Island spindles, lay there beside huge mounds +of raw wool from Illinois, ready to be fed to the Rouen mill; dates and +nuts from the Caribbean Sea; lemons from groves of the faraway tropics; +cigars from the Antilles; tobacco from Virginia and Kentucky; most +precious of all, the great granary of the farmers' wheat from the level +fields at home; and all the rich stores and the houses that held them, +as well as the wharves upon which they had been landed, and the steamers +that brought them up the Rouen River, belonged to Robert Carewe. + +That it was her father's property which was imperilled attested to the +justification of Miss Betty in running to a fire; and, as she followed +the crowd into Main Street, she felt a not unpleasant proprietary +interest in the spectacle. Very opposite sensations animated the breast +of the man with the trumpet, who was more acutely conscious than any +other that these were Robert Carewe's possessions which were burning +so handsomely. Nor was he the only one among the firemen who ground his +teeth over the folly of the uniforms; for now they could plainly see the +ruin being wrought, the devastation threatened. The two upper stories +of the southernmost warehouse had swathed themselves in one great flame; +the building next on the north, also of frame, was smoking heavily; and +there was a wind from the southwest, which, continuing with the fire +unchecked, threatened the town itself. There was work for the Volunteer +Brigade that night. + +They came down Main Street with a rush, the figure of their chief +swaying over them on his high perch, while their shouting was drowned in +the louder roar of greeting from the crowd, into which they plunged as +a diver into the water, swirls and eddies of people marking the wake. +A moment later a section of the roof of the burning warehouse fell in, +with a sonorous and reverberating crash. + +The “Engine Company” ran the force-pump out to the end of one of the +lower wharves; two lines of pipe were attached; two rows of men mounted +the planks for the pumpers, and, at the word of command, began the +up-and-down of the hand-machine with admirable vim. Nothing happened; +the water did not come; something appeared to be wrong with the +mechanism. As everyone felt the crucial need of haste, nothing could +have been more natural than that all the members of the “Engine Company” + should simultaneously endeavor to repair the defect; therefore ensued +upon the spot a species of riot which put the engine out of its sphere +of usefulness. + +In the meantime, fifty or sixty men and boys who ran with the machines, +but who had no place in their operation, being the Bucket Brigade, had +formed a line and were throwing large pails of water in the general +direction of the southernmost warehouse, which it was now impossible to +save; while the gentlemen of the “Hook-and-Ladder Company,” abandoning +their wagons, and armed with axes, heroically assaulted the big door +of the granary, the second building, whence they were driven by the +exasperated chief, who informed them that the only way to save the +wheat was to save the building. Crailey Gray, one of the berated axemen, +remained by the shattered door after the others had gone, and, struck by +a sudden thought, set his hand upon the iron latch and opened the door +by this simple process. It was not locked. Crailey leaned against the +casement and laughed with his whole soul and body. + +Meanwhile, by dint of shouting in men's ears when near them, through +the trumpet when distant, tearing axes from their hands, imperiously +gesticulating to subordinate commanders, and lingering in no one spot +for more than a second, Mr. Vanrevel reduced his forces to a semblance +of order in a remarkably short time, considering the confusion into +which they had fallen. + +The space between the burning warehouse and that next it was not more +than fifty feet in width, but fifty feet so hot no one took thought +of entering there; an area as discomfiting in appearance as it was +beautiful with the thick rain of sparks and firebrands that fell upon +it. But the chief had decided that this space must be occupied, and +more: must be held, since it was the only point of defence for the +second warehouse. The roof of this building would burn, which would mean +the destruction of the warehouse, unless it could be mounted, because +the streams of water could not play upon it from the ground, nor, from +the ladders, do much more than wet the projecting eaves. It was a gable +roof, the eaves twenty feet lower on the south side than on the north, +where the ladders could not hope to reach them. Vanrevel swung his line +of bucketeers round to throw water, not upon the flames, but upon the +ladder-men. + +Miss Carewe stood in the crowd upon the opposite side of the broad +street. Even there her cheeks were uncomfortably hot, and sometimes she +had to brush a spark from her shoulder, though she was too much excited +to mind this. She was watching the beautiful fiery furnace between the +north wall of the burning warehouse and the south wall of its neighbor, +the fifty feet brilliant and misty with vaporous rose-color, dotted +with the myriad red stars, her eyes shining with the reflection of their +fierce beauty. She saw how the vapors moved there, like men walking in +fire, and she was vaguely recalling Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, +when, over the silhouetted heads of the crowd before her, a long black +ladder rose, wobbled, tilted crazily, then lamely advanced and ranged +itself against the south wall of the second warehouse, its top rung +striking ten feet short of the eaves. She hoped that no one had any +notion of mounting that ladder. + +A figure appeared upon it immediately, that of a gentleman, bareheaded +and in evening dress, with a brass trumpet swinging from a cord about +his shoulders; the noise grew less; the shouting died away, and the +crowd became almost silent, as the figure, climbing slowly drew up above +their heads. Two or three rungs beneath, came a second--a man in helmet +and uniform. The clothes of both men, drenched by the bucketeers, clung +to them, steaming. As the second figure mounted, a third appeared; +but this was the last, for the ladder was frail, and sagged toward the +smoking wall with the weight of the three. + +The chief, three-fourths of the way to the top, shouted down a stifled +command, and a short grappling-ladder, fitted at one end with a pair of +spiked iron hooks, was passed to him. Then he toiled upward until his +feet rested on the third rung from the top; here he turned, setting his +back to the wall, lifted the grappling-ladder high over his head so +that it rested against the eaves above him, and brought it down sharply, +fastening the spiked hooks in the roof. As the eaves projected fully +three feet, this left the grappling-ladder hanging that distance out +from the wall, its lowest rung a little above the level of the chief's +shoulders. + +Miss Betty drew in her breath with a little choked cry. There was a +small terraced hill of piled-up packing-boxes near her, possession of +which had been taken by a company of raggamuffinish boys, and she found +herself standing on the highest box and sharing the summit with these +questionable youths, almost without noting her action in mounting +thither, so strained was the concentration of her attention upon the +figure high up in the rose-glow against the warehouse wall. The man, +surely, surely, was not going to trust himself to that bit of wooden web +hanging from the roof! Where was Miss Bareaud that she permitted it? +Ah, if Betty had been Fanchon and madwoman enough to have accepted +this madman, she would have compelled him to come down at once, and +thereafter would lock him up in the house whenever the bells rang! + +But the roof was to be mounted or Robert Carewe's property lost. Already +little flames were dancing up from the shingles, where firebrands had +fallen, their number increasing with each second. So Vanrevel raised his +arms, took a hard grip upon the lowest rung of the grappling-ladder and +tried it with his weight; the iron hooks bit deeper into the roof; they +held. He swung himself out into the air with nothing beneath him, caught +the rung under his knee, and for a moment hung there while the crowd +withheld from breathing; then a cloud of smoke, swirling that way, made +him the mere ghostly nucleus of himself, blotted him out altogether, +and, as it rose slowly upward, showed the ladder free and empty, so that +at first there was an instant when they thought that he had fallen. But, +as the smoke cleared, there was the tall figure on the roof. + +It was an agile and daring thing to do, and the man who did it was +mightily applauded. The cheering bothered him, however, for he was +trying to make them understand, below, what would happen to the “Engine +Company” in case the water was not sent through the lines directly; and +what he said should be done to the engineers included things that would +have blanched the cheek of the most inventive Spanish Inquisitor that +ever lived. + +Miss Betty made a gesture as if to a person within whispering distance. +“Your coat is on fire,” she said in an ordinary conversational tone, +without knowing she had spoken aloud, and Mr. Vanrevel, more than one +hundred feet away, seemed particularly conscious of the pertinence of +her remark. He removed the garment with alacrity, and, for the lack +of the tardy water, began to use it as a flail upon the firebrands and +little flames about him; the sheer desperate best of a man in a rage, +doing what he could when others failed him. Showers of sparks fell upon +him; the smoke was rising everywhere from the roof and the walls below; +and, growing denser and denser, shrouded him in heavy veils, so that, as +he ran hither and thither, now visible, now unseen, stamping and beating +and sweeping away the brands that fell, he seemed but the red and +ghostly caricature of a Xerxes, ineffectually lashing the sea. They were +calling to him imploringly to come down, in heaven's name to come down! + +The second man had followed to the top of the ladder against the wall, +and there he paused, waiting to pass up the line of hose when the +word should come that the force-pump had been repaired; but the people +thought that he waited because he was afraid to trust himself to the +grappling-ladder. He was afraid, exceedingly afraid; though that was not +why he waited; and he was still chuckling over the assault of the axes. + +His situation had not much the advantage of that of the chief: his red +shirt might have been set with orange jewels, so studded it was with the +flying sparks; and, a large brand dropping upon his helmet, he threw up +his hand to dislodge it and lost the helmet. The great light fell +upon his fair hair and smiling face, and it was then that Miss Betty +recognized the Incroyable of her garden. + + + +CHAPTER VI. The Ever Unpractical Feminine + +It was an investigating negro child of tender years, who, possessed of +a petty sense of cause and effect, brought an illuminative simplicity to +bear upon the problem of the force-pump; and a multitudinous agitation +greeted his discovery that the engineers had forgotten to connect their +pipes with the river. + +This naive omission was fatal to the second warehouse; the wall burst +into flame below Crailey Gray, who clung to the top of the ladder, +choking, stifled, and dizzily fighting the sparks that covered him, yet +still clutching the nozzle of the hose-line they had passed to him. When +the stream at last leaped forth, making the nozzle fight in his grasp, +he sent it straight up into the air and let the cataract fall back upon +himself and upon the two men beneath him on the ladder. + +There came a moment of blessed relief; and he looked out over the broad +rosy blur of faces in the street, where no one wondered more than he +how the water was to reach the roof. Suddenly he started, wiped his eyes +with his wet sleeve, and peered intently down from under the shading +arm. His roving glance crossed the smoke and flame to rest upon a tall, +white figure that stood, full-length above the heads of the people, upon +a pedestal wrought with the grotesque images of boys: a girl's figure, +still as noon, enrapt, like the statue of some young goddess for whom +were made these sacrificial pyres. Mr. Gray recognized his opportunity. + +A blackened and unrecognizable face peered down from the eaves, and the +voice belonging to it said, angrily: “Why didn't they send up that line +before they put the water through it?” + +“Never mind, Tom,” answered Crailey cheerfully, “I'll bring it up.” “You +can't; I'll come down for it. Don't be every kind of a fool!” + +“You want a monopoly, do you?” And Crailey, calling to Tappingham Marsh, +next below him, to come higher, left the writhing nozzle in the latter's +possession, swung himself out upon the grappling-ladder, imitating the +chief's gymnastics, and immediately, one hand grasping the second rung, +one knee crooked over the lowest, leaned head down and took the nozzle +from Marsh. It was a heavy weight, and though Marsh supported the line +beneath it, the great stream hurtling forth made it a difficult thing to +manage, for it wriggled, recoiled and struggled as if it had been alive. +Crailey made three attempts to draw himself up; but the strain was too +much for his grip, and on the third attempt his fingers melted from +the rung, and he swung down fearfully, hanging by his knee, but still +clinging to the nozzle. + +“Give it up, Crailey; it isn't worth it,” Vanrevel called from overhead, +not daring the weight of both on the light grappling-ladder. + +But though Crailey cared no more for the saving of Robert Carewe's +property than for a butterfly's wing in China, he could not give up now, +any more than as a lad he could have forborne to turn somersaults when +the prettiest little girl looked out of the school-house window. He +passed the nozzle to Tappingham, caught the second rung with his left +hand, and, once more hanging head downward, seized the nozzle; then, +with his knee hooked tight, as the gushing water described a huge +semicircle upon the smoke and hot vapor, he made a mad lurch through the +air, while women shrieked; but he landed upright, half-sitting on the +lowest rung. He climbed the grappling-ladder swiftly, in spite of the +weight and contortions of the unmanageable beast he carried with him; +Tom leaned far down and took it from him; and Crailey, passing the +eaves, fell, exhausted, upon the roof. Just as he reached this temporary +security, a lady was borne, fainting, out of the acclaiming crowd. +Fanchon was there. + +Word had been passed to the gentlemen of the “Engine Company” to shut +off the water in order to allow the line to be carried up the ladder, +and they received the command at the moment Tom lifted the nozzle, so +that the stream dried up in his hands. This was the last straw, and the +blackened, singed and scarred chief, setting the trumpet to his lips, +gave himself entirely to wrath. + +It struck Crailey, even as he lay, coughing and weeping with smoke, that +there was something splendid and large in the other's rage. Vanrevel was +ordinarily so steady and cool that this was worth seeing, this berserker +gesture; worth hearing, this wonderful profanity, like Washington's one +fit of cursing; and Crailey, knowing Tom, knew, too, that it had not +come upon him because Carewe had a daughter into whose eyes Tom had +looked; nor did he rage because he believed that Crailey's life and +his were in the greater hazard for the lack of every drop of water that +should have issued from the empty nozzle. Their lungs were burdened with +smoke, while the intolerable smarting of throat, eyes, and nostrils was +like the incision of a thousand needles in the membranes; their clothes +were luminous with glowing circles where the sparks were eating; the +blaze widened on the wall beneath them, and Marsh was shouting hoarsely +that he could no longer hold his position on the ladder; yet Crailey +knew that none of this was in Tom's mind as he stood, scorched, +blistered, and haggard, on the edge of the roof, shaking his fist at +the world. It was because his chance of saving the property of a man he +despised was being endangered. + +Crailey stretched forth a hand and touched his friend's knee. “Your side +of the conversation is a trifle loud, Tom,” he said. “Miss Carewe is +down there, across the street, on a pile of boxes.” + +Tom stopped in the middle of a word, for which he may have received +but half a black stroke from the recording angel. He wheeled toward the +street, and, shielding his inflamed eyes with his hand, gazed downward +in a stricken silence. From that moment Mr. Vanrevel's instructions to +his followers were of a decorum at which not the meekest Sunday-school +scholar dare have cavilled. + +The three men now on the long ladder, Marsh, Eugene Madrillon, and Will +Cummings, found their position untenable; for the flames, reaching all +along the wall, were licking at the ladder itself, between Marsh and +Eugene. “I can't stand this any longer,” gasped Tappingham, “but I can't +leave those two up there, either.” + +“Not alone,” shouted Cummings from beneath Madrillon. “Let's go up.” + +Thus it happened, that when the water came again, and Vanrevel let it +fall in a grateful cascade upon Crailey and himself, three manly voices +were heard singing, as three men toiled through the billows of rosy +gray, below the beleaguered pair: + +“Oh the noble Duke of York, He had Ten thousand men; He marched them up +the side of a house, And marched them down again!” + + +A head appeared above the eaves, and Marsh, then Eugene, then Cummings, +came crawling over the cornice in turn, to join their comrades. They +were a gallant band, those young gentlemen of Rouen, and they came with +the ironical song on their lips, and, looking at one another, ragged and +scarified, burst into hoarse but indomitable laughter. + +Two others made an attempt to follow, and would not be restrained. It +was noticed that parts of the lower ladder had been charring; and the +ladder-men were preparing to remove it to a less dangerous point, when +old General Trumble and young Jefferson Bareaud made a rush to mount it, +and were well upon their upward way before the ladder, weakened at the +middle, sagged, splintered, and broke, Trumble and Bareaud falling with +it. And there was the grappling-ladder, dangling forty feet above the +ground; and there were the five upon the roof. + +The Department had no other ladder of more than half the length of the +shattered one. Not only the Department, but every soul in Rouen, +knew that; and there rose the thick, low sigh of a multitude, a sound +frightful to hear. It became a groan, then swelled into a deep cry of +alarm and lamentation. + +And now, almost simultaneously, the west wall of the building, and +the south wall, and all the southwestern portions of the roof, covered +them-selves with voluminous mantles of flame, which increased so hugely +and with such savage rapidity that the one stream on the roof was seen +to be but a ridiculous and useless opposition. + +Everybody began to shout advice to his neighbor; and nobody listened +even to himself. The firemen were in as great a turmoil as was the +crowd, while women covered their eyes. Young Frank Chenoweth was sobbing +curses upon the bruised and shaking Trumble and Jefferson Bareaud, who +could only stand remorseful, impotently groaning, and made no answer. + +The walls of the southernmost warehouse followed the roof, crashing +inward one after the other, a sacrificial pyre with its purpose +consummated; and in the seeth and flare of its passing, Tom Vanrevel +again shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked down across the upturned +faces. The pedestal with the grotesque carvings was still there; but the +crowning figure had disappeared--the young goddess was gone. For she, +of all that throng, had an idea in her head, and, after screaming it +to every man within reach, only to discover the impossibility of making +herself understood in that Babel, she was struggling to make her way +toward the second warehouse, through the swaying jam of people. It was +a difficult task, as the farther in she managed to go, the denser became +the press and the more tightly she found the people wedged, until she +received involuntary aid from the firemen. In turning their second +stream to play ineffectually upon the lower strata of flame, they +accidentally deflected it toward the crowd, who separated wildly, +leaving a big gap, of which Miss Betty took instant advantage. She +darted across, and the next moment, unnoticed, had entered the building +through the door which Crailey Gray had opened. + +The five young men on the roof were well aware that there was little to +do but to wait, and soon they would see which was to win, they or the +fire; so they shifted their line of hose to the eastern front of the +building--out of harm's way, for a little time, at least--and held the +muzzle steady, watching its work. And in truth it was not long before +they understood which would conquer. The southern and western portions +of the building had flung out great flames that fluttered and flared +on the breeze like Titanic flags; and steadily, slowly, at first, then +faster as the seconds flew, the five were driven backward, up the low +slope of the roof toward the gable-ridge. Tom Vanrevel held the first +joint of the nozzle, and he retreated with a sulky face, lifting his +foot grudgingly at each step. They were all silent, now, and no one +spoke until Will Cummings faltered: + +“Surely they'll get a rope up to us some way?” + +Will knew as well as did the others that there was no way; but his +speech struck the sullen heart of the chief with remorse. He turned. “I +hope you'll all forgive me for getting you up here.” + +A sound, half sob, half giggle, came from the parched lips of Eugene +Madrillon, as he patted Tom on the shoulder without speaking, and +Crailey nodded quietly, then left the group and went to the eastern edge +of the roof and looked out upon the crowd. Cummings dropped the line +and sat down, burying his hot face in his arms, for they all saw that +Vanrevel thought “it was no use,” but a question of a few minutes, and +they would retreat across the gable and either jump or go down with the +roof. + +Since the world began, idle and industrious philosophers have speculated +much upon the thoughts of men about to die; yet it cannot be too +ingenuous to believe that such thoughts vary as the men, their +characters, and conditions of life vary. Nevertheless, pursuant with +the traditions of minstrelsy and romance, it is conceivable that young, +unmarried men, called upon to face desperate situations, might, at the +crucial moment, rush to a common experience of summoning the vision, +each of his heart's desire, and to meet, each his doom, with her name +upon his lips. + +An extraordinary thing occurred in the present instance, for, by means +of some fragmentary remarks let fall at the time, and afterward recalled +such as Tappingham Marsh's gasping: “At least it will be on her father's +roof!” and from other things later overheard, an inevitable deduction +has been reached that four of the five gentlemen in the perilous case +herein described were occupied with the vision of the same person, to +wit: Miss Elizabeth Carewe, “the last--the prettiest--to come to town!” + +Crailey Gray, alone, spoke not at all; but why did he strain and strain +his eyes toward that empty' pedestal with the grotesque carvings? Did he +seek Fanchon there, or was Miss Carewe the last sweet apparition in the +fancies of all five of the unhappy young men? + +The coincidence of the actual appearance of the lady among them, +therefore seemed the more miraculous, when, wan and hopeless, staggering +desperately backward to the gable-ridge, they heard a clear contralto +voice behind them: + +“Hadn't you better all come down now?” it said.--“The stairway will be +on fire before long.” + +Only one thing could have been more shockingly unexpected to the five +than that there should be a sixth person on the roof, and this was that +the sixth person should be Miss Betty Carewe. + +They turned, aghast, agape, chopfallen with astonishment, stunned, and +incredulous. + +She stood just behind the gable-ridge, smiling amiably, a most +incongruous little pink fan in her hand, the smoke-wreaths partly +obscuring her and curling between the five and her white dress, like +mists floating across the new moon. + +Was it but a kindly phantasm of the brain? Was it the incarnation of +the last vision of the lost Volunteers? Was it a Valkyrie assuming that +lovely likeness to perch upon this eyrie, waiting to bear their heroic +souls to Valhalla, or--was it Miss Betty Carewe? + +To the chief she spoke--all of them agreed to that afterward--but it was +Crailey who answered, while Tom could only stare, and stand wagging his +head at the lovely phantom, like a Mandarin on a shelf. + +“My mother in heaven!” gasped Crailey. “How did you come up here?” + +“There's a trap in the roof on the other side of the ridge,” she said, +and she began to fan herself with the pink fan. “A stairway runs all the +way down--old Nelson showed me through these buildings yesterday--and +that side isn't on fire yet. I'm so sorry I didn't think of it until a +moment ago, because you could have brought the water up that way. But +don't you think you'd better come down now?” + + + +CHAPTER VII. The Comedian + +Not savage Hun, nor “barbarous Vandyke,” nor demon Apache, could wish +to dwell upon the state of mind of the Chief of the Rouen Volunteer +Fire Department; therefore, let the curtain of mercy descend. Without +a word, he turned and dragged the nozzle to the eastern eaves, whence, +after a warning gesture to those below, he dropped it to the ground. +And, out of compassion, it should be little more than hinted that the +gesture of warning was very slight. + +When the rescued band reached the foot of the last flight of stairs, +they beheld the open doorway as a frame for a great press of intent and +con-torted faces, every eye still strained to watch the roof; none +of the harrowed spectators comprehending the appearance of the girl's +figure there, nor able to see whither she had led the five young men, +until Tappingham Marsh raised a shout as he leaped out of the door and +danced upon the solid earth again. + +Then, indeed, there was a mighty uproar; cheer after cheer ascended to +the red vault of heaven; women wept, men whooped, and the people rushed +for the heroes with wide-open, welcoming arms. Jefferson Bareaud +and Frank Chenoweth and General Trumble dashed at Tom Vanrevel with +incoherent cries of thanksgiving, shaking his hands and beating him +hysterically upon the back. He greeted them with bitter laughter. + +“Help get the water into the next warehouse; this one is beyond control, +but we can save the other two. Take the lines in through the door!” + He brushed the rejoicing friends off abruptly, and went on in a queer, +hollow voice: “There are stairs--and I'm so sorry I didn't think of it +until a moment ago, because you could have brought the water up that +way!” + +A remarkable case of desertion had occurred, the previous instant, under +his eyes. As the party emerged from the warehouse into the street, Tom +heard Crailey say hurriedly to Miss Carewe: “Let me get you away come +quickly!” saw him suddenly seize her band, and, eluding the onrushing +crowd, run with her round the corner of the building. And somehow, +through what inspiration, or through what knowledge of his partner's +“temperament,” heaven knows, the prophetic soul of the chief was +unhappily assured that Crailey would offer himself as escort to her +home, and find acceptance. But why not? Was it Crailey who had publicly +called his fellow-man fool, idiot, imbecile, at the top of his lungs, +only to find himself the proven numskull of the universe! Tom stood for +a moment staring after the vanishing pair, while over his face stole the +strangest expression that ever man saw there; then, with meekly bowed +shoulders, he turned again to his work. + +At the corner of the warehouse, Miss Carewe detached her hand from +Crailey's, yet still followed him as he made a quick detour round the +next building. A minute or two later they found themselves, undetected, +upon Main Street in the rear of the crowd. There Crailey paused. + +“Forgive me,” he said, breathlessly, “for taking your hand. I thought +you would like to get away.” + +She regarded him gravely, so that he found it difficult to read +her look, except that it was seriously questioning; but whether the +interrogation was addressed to him or to herself he could not determine. +After a silence she said: + +“I don't know why I followed you. I believe it must have been because +you didn't give me time to think.” + +This, of course, made him even quicker with her than before. “It's all +over,” he said briskly. “The first warehouse is gone; the second will +go, but they'll save the others easily enough, now that you have +pointed out that the lines may be utilized otherwise than as adjuncts of +performances on the high trapeze!” They were standing by a picket-fence, +and he leaned against it, overcome by mirth in which she did not join. +Her gravity reacted upon him at once, and his laughter was stopped +short. “Will you not accept me as an escort to your home?” he said +formally. “I do not know,” she returned simply, the sort of honest +trouble in her glance that is seen only in very young eyes. + +“'What reason in the world!” he returned, with a crafty sharpness of +astonishment. + +She continued to gaze upon him thoughtfully, while he tried to look into +her eyes, but was baffled because the radiant beams from the lady's orbs +(as the elder Chenoweth might have said) rested somewhere dangerously +near his chin, which worried him, for, though his chin made no retreat +and was far from ill-looking, it was, nevertheless, that feature which +he most distrusted. “Won't you tell me why not?” he repeated, uneasily. + +“Because,” she answered at last, speaking hesitatingly, “because it +isn't so easy a matter for me as you seem to think. You have not been +introduced to me, and I know you never will be, and that what you told +me was true.” + +“Which part of what I told you?” The question escaped from him +instantly. + +“That the others might come when they liked, but that you could not.” + +“Oh yes, yes.” His expression altered to a sincere dejection; his +shoulders drooped, and his voice indicated supreme annoyance. “I might +have known someone would tell you! Who was it? Did they say why I--” + +“On account of your quarrel with my father.” + +“My quarrel with your father!” he exclaimed; and his face lit with an +elated surprise; his shoulders straightened. He took a step nearer her, +and asked, eagerly: “Who told you that?” + +“My father himself. He spoke of a Mr. Vanrevel whom he--disliked, and +whom I must not meet; and, remembering what you had said, of course I +knew that you were he.” + +“Oh!” Crailey's lips began to form a smile of such appealing and +inimitable sweetness that Voltaire would have trusted him; a smile +alto-gether rose-leaves. “Then I lose you,” he said, “for my only chance +to know you was in keeping it hidden from you. And now you understand!” + +“No,” she answered, gravely, “I don't understand; that is what troubles +me. If I did, and believed you had the right of the difference, I could +believe it no sin that you should speak to me, should take me home now. +I think it is wrong not to act from your own understanding of things.” + +The young man set his expression as one indomitably fixed upon the +course of honor, cost what it might; and, in the very action, his +lurking pleasure in doing it hopped out in the flicker of a twinkle in +his eyes, and as instantly sought cover again--the flea in the rose-jar. + +“Then you must ask some other,” he said, firmly. “A disinterested person +should tell you. The difference was political in the beginning, but +became personal afterward; and it is now a quarrel which can never be +patched up, though, for my part, I wish that it could be. I can say no +more, because a party to it should not speak.” + +She met his level look squarely at last; and no man ever had a +more truthful pair of eyes than Crailey Gray, for it was his great +accomplishment that he could adjust his emotion, his reason, and +something that might be called his faith, to fit any situation in any +character. + +“You may take me home,” she answered. “I may be wrong, and even +disloyal; but I do not feel it so, now. You did a very brave thing +tonight to save him from loss, and I think that what you have said was +just what you should have said.” + +So they went down the street, the hubbub and confusion of the fire +growing more and more indistinct behind them. They walked slowly, and, +for a time, neither spoke; yet the silence was of a kind which the +adept rejoiced to have produced thus soon--their second meeting. For he +believed there were more strange things in heaven and earth than +Horatio wot; and one of the strangest was that whenever he was near +an attractive woman during a silence such as this, something not to be +defined, but as effective as it was indefinite, always went out from +him to her. It was like a word of tenderness, a word too gentle, too +compelling, too sweet, to be part of any tongue, spoken or written. And +more: this ineffable word had an echo, and came back to him from the +woman. + +As his partner had in dress, so Crailey had with women, some color of +the Beau; but it was not in what experience had given him to recognize +as a fact: that they were apt to fall in love with him. (That they were +apt to remain in love with him--he understood perfectly--was another +matter.) And he knew when they were doing it; could have told them +accurately, at each step, what they were feeling, thinking, dreaming, +during the process, because he was usually exhibiting the same symptoms +to himself at the same time. + +Thus, his own breast occupied with that dizzy elation which followed its +reception of the insane young god's arrows, and his heart warm with the +rise of the old emotion that he knew so well, he was nevertheless able +to walk with his finger on the pulse of the exquisite moment, counting +her heartbeats and his own. + +So, to his fancy, as they walked, the little space between them was hung +with brilliant strands, like gossamer chains of gold, already linking +them together; every second fixing another slender, precious fetter, +binding them closer, drawing her nearer. He waited until they passed +into the shadows of the deserted Carewe Street before he spoke. There he +stopped abruptly; at which she turned, astonished. + +“Now that you have saved my life,” he said, in a low, tremulous tone, +“what are you going to do with it?” + +Her eyes opened almost as widely as they had at her first sight of him +in her garden. There was a long pause before she replied, and when she +did, it was to his considerable surprise. + +“I have never seen a play, except the funny little ones we acted at the +convent,” she said, “but isn't that the way they speak on the stage?” + +Crailey realized that his judgment of the silence bad been mistaken, and +yet it was with a thrill of delight that he recognized her clear reading +of him. He had been too florid again. + +“Let us go.” His voice was soft with restrained forgiveness. “You mocked +me once before. + +“Mocked you?” she repeated, as they went on. + +“Mocked me,” he said, firmly. “Mocked me for seeming theatrical, and yet +you have learned that what I said was true; as you will again.” + +She mused upon this; then, as in whimsical indulgence to an importunate +child: + +“Well, tell me what you mean when you say I saved your life.” + +“You came alone,” he began, hastily, “to stand upon that burning roof--” + +“Whence all but him had fled!” Her laughter rang out, interrupting +him. “My room was on the fourth floor at St. Mary's, and I didn't mind +climbing three flights this evening.” + +Crailey's good-nature was always perfect. “You mock me and you mock me!” + he cried, and made her laughter but part of a gay duet. “I know I have +gone too fast, have said things I should have waited to say; but, ah! +remember the small chance I have against the others who can see you +when they like. Don't flout me because I try to make the most of a rare, +stolen moment with you.” + +“Do!” she exclaimed, grave upon the instant. “Do make the most of it! I +have nothing but inexperience. Make the most by treating me seriously. +Won't you? I know you can, and I--I--” She faltered to a full stop. She +was earnest and quiet, and there had been something in her tone, too--as +very often there was--that showed how young she was. “Oh!” she began +again, turning to him impulsively, “I have thought about you since that +evening in the garden, and I have wished I could know you. I can't be +quite clear how it happened, but even those few minutes left a number +of strong impressions about you. And the strongest was that you were one +with whom I could talk of a great many things, if you would only be +real with me. I believe--though I'm not sure why I do--that it is very +difficult for you to be real; perhaps because you are so different at +different times that you aren't sure, yourself, which the real you is. +But the person that you are beginning to be for my benefit must be the +most trifling of all your selves, lighter and easier to put on than the +little mask you carried the other night. If there were nothing better +underneath the mask, I might play, too.” + +“Did you learn this at the convent?” gasped Crailey. + +“There was a world there in miniature,” she answered, speaking very +quickly. “I think all people are made of the same materials, only in +such different proportions. I think a little world might hold as much as +the largest, if you thought it all out hard enough, and your experience +might be just as broad and deep in a small corner of the earth as +anywhere else. But I don't know! I want to understand--I want to +understand everything! I read books, and there are people--but no one +who tells me what I want--I--” + +“Stop.” He lifted his hand. “I won't act; I shall never 'play' for you +again.” He was breathless; the witching silence was nothing to what +stirred him now. A singular exaltation rose in him, together with the +reckless impulse to speak from the mood her vehement confidence had +in-spired. He gave way to it. + +“I know, I know,” he said huskily. “I understand all you mean, all you +feel, all you wish. It is all echoing here, and here, and here!” He +touched his breast, his eyes, and his forehead with the fingers of his +long and slender hand. “We sigh and strain our eyes and stretch out our +arms in the dark, groping always for the strange blessing that is just +beyond our grasp, seeking for the precious unknown that lies just over +the horizon! It's what they meant by the pot of gold where the rainbow +ends--only, it may be there, after all!” + +They stopped unconsciously, and remained standing at the lower end of +the Carewe hedge. The western glow had faded, and she was gazing at him +through the darkness, leaning forward, never dreaming that her tight +grasp had broken the sticks of the little pink fan. + +“Yes,” she whispered, eagerly. “You are right: you understand!” + +He went on, the words coming faster and faster: “We are haunted--you and +I--by the wish to know all things, and by the question that lies under +every thought we have: the agonizing Whither? Isn't it like that? It +is really death that makes us think. You are a good Catholic: you go +to mass; but you wish to know. Does God reign, or did it all happen? +Sometimes it seems so deadly probable that the universe just was, no +God to plan it, nothing but things; that we die as sparrows die, and the +brain is all the soul we have, a thing that becomes clogged and stops +some day. And is that all?” + +She shivered slightly, but her steadfast eyes did not shift from him. He +threw back his head, and his face, uplifted to the jewelled sky of the +moonless night, was beatific in its peacefulness, as he continued in an +altered tone, gentle and low: + +“I think all questions are answered there. The stars tell it all. When +you look at them you know! They have put them on our flag. There are +times when this seems but a poor nation: boastful, corrupt, violent, and +preparing, as it is now, to steal another country by fraud and war; yet +the stars on the flag always make me happy and confident. Do you see +the constellations swinging above us, such unimaginable vastnesses, not +roving or crashing through the illimitable at haphazard, but moving in +more excellent measure, and to a finer rhythm, than the most delicate +clockwork man ever made? The great ocean-lines mark our seas with their +paths through the water; the fine brains of the earth are behind the +ships that sail from port to port, yet how awry the system goes! When +does a ship come to her harbor at an hour determined when she sailed? +What is a ship beside the smallest moon of the smallest world? But, +there above us, moons, worlds, suns, all the infinite cluster of +colossi, move into place to the exactness of a hair at the precise +instant. That instant has been planned, you see; it is part of a +system--and can a system exist that no mind made? Think of the Mind that +made this one! Do you believe so inconceivably majestic an Intelligence +as that could be anything but good? Ah, when you wonder, look above you; +look above you in the night, I say,” he cried, his hand upraised like +his transfigured face. “Look above you and you will never fear that a +sparrow's fall could go unmarked!” + +It was not to the stars that she looked, but to the orator, as long as +he held that pose, which lasted until a hard-ridden horse came galloping +down the street. As it dashed by, though the rider looked neither to +right nor left, Miss Betty unconsciously made a feverish clutch at her +companion's sleeve, drawing him closer to the hedge. + +“It is my father,” she said hurriedly in a low voice. “He must not +see you. You must never come here. Perhaps--” She paused, then quickly +whispered: “You have been very kind to me. Good-night.” + +He looked at her keenly, and through the dimness saw that her face was +shining with excitement. He did not speak again, but, taking a step +back-ward, smiled faintly, bent his head in humble acquiescence, and +made a slight gesture of his hand for her to leave him. She set her eyes +upon his once more, then turned swiftly and almost ran along the hedge +to the gate; but there she stopped and looked back. He was standing +where she had left him, his face again uplifted to the sky. + +She waved him an uncertain farewell, and ran into the garden, both palms +against her burning cheeks. + +Night is the great necromancer, and strange are the fabrics he weaves; +he lays queer spells; breathes so eerie an intoxication through the +dusk; he can cast such glamours about a voice! He is the very king of +fairyland. + +Miss Betty began to walk rapidly up and down the garden paths, her +head bent and her bands still pressed to her cheeks; now and then an +unconscious exclamation burst from her, incoherent, more like a gasp +than a word. A long time she paced the vigil with her stirring heart, +her skirts sweeping the dew from the leaning flowers. Her lips moved +often, but only the confused, vehement “Oh, oh!” came from them, until +at last she paused in the middle of the garden, away from the trees, +where all was open to the sparkling firmament, and extended her arms +over her head. + +“O, strange teacher,” she said aloud, “I take your beautiful stars! I +shall know how to learn from them!” + +She gazed steadily upward, enrapt, her eyes resplendent with their own +starlight. + +“Oh, stars, stars, stars!” she whispered. + +In the teeth of all wizardry, Night's spells do pass at sunrise; +marvellous poems sink to doggerel, mighty dreams to blown ashes and +solids regain weight. Miss Betty, waking at daybreak, saw the motes +dancing in the sun at her window, and watched them with a placid, +unremembering eye. She began to stare at them in a puzzled way, while a +look of wonder slowly spread over her face. Suddenly she sat upright, as +though something had startled her. Her fingers clenched tightly. + +“Ah, if that was playing!” + + + +CHAPTER VIII. A Tale of a Political Difference + +Mr. Carewe was already at the breakfast-table, but the light of his +countenance, hidden behind the Rouen Journal, was not vouchsafed to his +daughter when she took her place opposite him, nor did he see fit to +return her morning greeting, from which she generously concluded that +the burning of the two warehouses had meant a severe loss to him. + +“I am so sorry, father,” she said gently. (She had not called him +“papa” since the morning after her ball.) “I hope it isn't to be a great +trouble to you.” There was no response, and, after waiting for some +time, she spoke again, rather tremulously, yet not timidly: “Father?” + +He rose, and upon his brow were marked the blackest lines of anger she +had ever seen, so that she leaned back from him, startled; but he threw +down the open paper before her on the table, and struck it with his +clenched fist. + +“Read that!” he said. And he stood over her while she read. + +There were some grandiloquent headlines: “Miss Elizabeth Carewe an Angel +of Mercy! Charming Belle Saves the Lives of Five Prominent Citizens! Her +Presence of Mind Prevents Conflagration from Wiping Out the City!” It +may be noted that Will Cummings, editor and proprietor of the Journal, +had written these tributes, as well as the whole account of the +evening's transactions, and Miss Betty loomed as large in Will's +narrative as in his good and lovelorn heart. There was very little +concerning the fire in the Journal; it was nearly all about Betty. That +is one of the misfortunes which pursue a lady who allows an editor to +fall in love with her. + +However, there was a scant mention of the arrival of the Volunteers +“upon the scene” (though none at all at the cause of their delay) and +an elo-quent paragraph was devoted to their handsome appearance, Mr. +Cummings having been one of those who insisted that the new uniforms +should be worn. “Soon,” said the Journal, “through the daring of the +Chief of the Department, and the Captain of the Hook-and-Ladder Company, +one of whom placed and mounted the grappling-ladder, over which he was +immediately followed by the other carrying the hose, a stream was sent +to play upon the devouring element, a feat of derring-do personally +witnessed by a majority of our readers. Mr. Vanrevel and Mr. Gray were +joined by Eugene Madrillon, Tappingham Marsh, and the editor of this +paper, after which occurred the unfortunate accident to the long ladder, +leaving the five named gentlemen in their terrible predicament, face to +face with death in its most awful form. At this frightful moment “--and +all the rest was about Miss Carewe. + +As Will himself admitted, he had “laid himself out on that description.” + One paragraph was composed of short sentences, each beginning with the +word “alone.” “Alone she entered the shattered door! Alone she set foot +upon the first flight of stairs! Alone she ascended the second! Alone +she mounted the third. Alone she lifted her hand to the trap! Alone +she opened it!” She was declared to have made her appearance to the +unfortunate prisoners on the roof, even as “the palm-laden dove to the +despairing Noah,” and Will also asserted repeatedly that she was the +“Heroine of the Hour.” + +Miss Betty blushed to see her name so blazoned forth in print; but she +lacked one kind of vanity, and failed to find good reason for more than +a somewhat troubled laughter, the writer's purpose was so manifestly +kind in spite of the bizarre result. + +“Oh, I wish Mr. Cummings hadn't!” she exclaimed. “It would have been +better not to speak of me at all, of course; but I can't see that there +is anything to resent--it is so funny!” + +“Funny!” Mr. Carewe repeated the word in a cracked falsetto, with +the evident intention of mocking her, and at the same time hideously +contorted his face into a grotesque idiocy of expression, pursing +his lips so extremely, and setting his brows so awry, that his other +features were cartooned out of all familiar likeness, effecting an +alteration as shocking to behold, in a man of his severe cast of +countenance, as was his falsetto mimicry to hear. She rose in a kind of +terror, perceiving that this contortion was produced in burlesque of her +own expression, and, as he pressed nearer her, stepped back, overturning +her chair. She had little recollection of her father during her +childhood; and as long as she could remember, no one had spoken to her +angrily, or even roughly. + +As she retreated from him, he leaned forward, thrusting the hideous mask +closer to her white and horror-stricken face. + +“You can't see anything to resent in that!” he gibbered. “It's so funny, +is it? Funny! Funny! Funny! I'll show you whether it's funny or not, +I'll show you!” His voice rose almost to a shriek. “You hang around +fires, do you, on the public streets at night? You're a nice one for me +to leave in charge of my house while I'm away, you trollop! What did you +mean by going up on that roof? You knew that damned Vanrevel was there! +You did, I say, you knew it!” + +She ran toward the door with a frightened cry; but he got between it and +her, menacing her with his upraised open hands, shaking them over her. + +“You're a lovely daughter, aren't you!” he shouted hoarsely. “You knew +perfectly well who was on that roof, and you went! Didn't you go? Answer +me that! If I'd had arms about me when I got there, I'd have shot that +man dead! He was on my property, giving orders, the black hound! And +when I ordered him out, he told me if I interfered with his work before +it was finished, he'd have me thrown out--me that owned the whole place; +and there wasn't a man that would lend me a pistol! 'Rescue!' You'd +better rescue him from me, you palm-laden dove, for I'll shoot him, I +will! I'll kill that dog; and he knows it. He can bluster in a crowd, +but he'll hide now! He's a coward and--” + +“He came home with me; he brought me home last night!” Her voice rang +out in the room like that of some other person, and she hardly knew that +it was herself who spoke. + +“You lie!” he screamed, and fell back from her, his face working as +though under the dominance of some physical disorder, the flesh of it +plastic beyond conception, so that she cried out and covered her face +with her arm. “You lie! I saw you at the hedge with Crailey Gray, though +you thought I didn't. What do you want to lie like that for? Vanrevel +didn't even speak to you. I asked Madrillon. You lie!” + +He choked upon the words; a racking cough shook him from head to foot; +he staggered back and dropped upon her overturned chair, his arms +beating the table in front of him, his head jerking spasmodically +backward and forward as he gasped for breath. + +“Ring the bell,” he panted thickly, with an incoherent gesture. “Nelson +knows. Ring!” + +Nelson evidently knew. He brought brandy and water from the sideboard +with no stinting hand, and within ten minutes Mr. Carewe was in his +accustomed seat, competent to finish his breakfast. In solitude, +however, he sat, and no one guessed his thoughts. + +For Miss Betty had fled to her own room, and had bolted the door. She +lay upon the bed, shuddering and shivering with nausea and cold, +though the day was warm. Then, like a hot pain in her breast, came a +homesickness for St. Mary's, and the flood-tide of tears, as she thought +of the quiet convent in the sunshine over to the west, the peace of it, +and the goodness of everybody there. + +“Sister Cecilia!” Her shoulders shook with the great sob that followed +this name, dearest to her in the world, convulsively whispered to the +pil-low “Dear Sister Cecilia!” She patted the white pillow with her +hand, as though it were the cool cheek against which she yearned to lay +her own. “Ah, you would know--you would know!” With the thought of the +serene face of the good Sister, and of the kind arms that would have +gone round her in her trouble, her sobbing grew loud and uncontrollable. +But she would not have her father hear it, and buried her face deep in +the pillow. After a time, she began to grow quieter, turned, and lay +with wet eyes staring unseeingly at the wall, her underlip quivering +with the deep intake of each broken sigh. + +“Oh, stars, stars, stars!” she whispered. + +“Missy?” There came a soft knock upon the door and the clink of silver +upon china. “Missy?” + +“What is it?” + +So quick was Miss Betty that, although she answered almost at once, the +tears were washed away, and she was passing a cool, wet towel over her +eyes at the moment she spoke. + +“Jass me. I brung yo' breakfas', honey.” + +Old Nelson's voice was always low and gentle, with a quaver and +hesitancy in the utterance; now it was tender and comforting with the +comprehension of one in suffering, the extraordinary tact, which the +old of his race nearly all come to possess. “Li'l chicken-wing on piece +brown toast, honey.” + +When she opened the door he came in, bending attentively over his tray, +and, without a glance toward his young mistress, made some show of fuss +and bustle, as he placed it upon a table near the window and drew up a +chair for her so that she could sit with her back to the light. + +“Dah now!” he exclaimed softly, removing the white napkin and displaying +other dainties besides the chicken wing. “Dass de way! Dat ole Mamie in +de kitchen, she got her failin's an' her grievin' sins; but de way she +do han'le chicken an' biscuit sutney ain't none on 'em! She plead fo' me +to ax you how you like dem biscuit.” + +He kept his head bent low over the table, setting a fork closer to +Betty's hand; arranging the plates, then rearranging them, but never +turning his eyes in her direction. + +“Dat ole Mamie mighty vain, yessuh!” He suffered a very quiet chuckle to +escape him. “She did most sutney 'sist dat I ax you ain't you like dem +biscuit. She de ve'y vaines' woman in dis State, dat ole Mamie, yessuh!” + And now he cast one quick glance out of the corner of his eye at Miss +Betty, before venturing a louder chuckle. “She reckon dem biscuit goin' +git her by Sain' Petuh when she 'proach de hevumly gates! Uhuh! I tell +her she got git redemption fo' de aigs she done ruin dese many yeahs; +'cause she as useless wid an ommelick as a two-day calf on de slick +ice!” Here he laughed loud and long. “You jass go and talk wid dat +Mamie, some day, Missy; you'll see how vain dat woman is.” + +“Has father gone out, Nelson?” asked Betty in a low voice. + +“Yes'm; he up town.” The old man's tone sank at once to the level of +her own; became confidential, as one speaks to another in a room where +somebody is ill. “He mekkin' perpetration to go down de rivuh dis +aft'noon. He say he done broke de news to you dat he goin' 'way. Dey +goin' buil' dem wa'house right up, an' yo' pa he necistate go 'way +'count de contrack. He be gone two week', honey,” Nelson finished, +without too much the air of imparting cheery tidings, but with just +enough. + +“I am to stay here alone?” + +“Law no, Missy! Dat big Miz Tanberry, dass de bes' frien' we all got, +she home ag'in, an' yo' pa goin' invite her visit at de house, whiles he +gone, an' to stay a mont' aftuh he git back, too, soze she kin go to +all de doin's an' junketin's wid you, and talk wid de young mens dat you +don' like whiles you talks wid dem you does like.” + +“What time will father come home?” + +“Home? He be gone two week', honey!” + +“No; I mean to-day.” + +“Law! He ain' comin' back. Bid me pack de trunk an' ca'y um down to de +boat at noon. Den he bid me say far'-ye-well an' a kine good-bye fo' +him, honey. 'Say he think you ain't feelin' too well, soze he won't +'sturb ye, hisself, an' dat he unestly do hope you goin' have splen'id +time whiles he trabblin'.” (Nelson's imagination covered many deficits +in his master's courtesy.) “Say he reckon you an' ole Miz Tanberry goin' +git 'long mighty nice wid one'nurr. An' dass what me an' Mamie reckon +'spechually boun' to take place, 'cause dat a mighty gay lady, dat big +Miz Tanberry, an' ole frien' 'er owah fambly. She 'uz a frien' er yo' +momma's, honey.” + +Miss Betty had begun by making a pretence to eat, only to please the +old man, but the vain woman's cookery had been not unduly extolled, and +Nelson laughed with pleasure to see the fluffy biscuits and the chicken +wing not nibbled at but actually eaten. This was a healthy young lady, +he thought, one who would do the household credit and justify the +extravagant pride which kitchen and stable already had in her. He was +an old house-servant, therefore he had seen many young ladies go through +unhappy hours, and he admired Miss Betty the more because she was +the first who had indulged in strong weeping and did not snuffle at +intervals afterward. He understood perfectly everything that had passed +between father and daughter that morning. + +When her breakfast was finished, she turned slowly to the window, and, +while her eyes did not refill, a slight twitching of the upper lids made +him believe that she was going over the whole scene again in her mind; +whereupon he began to move briskly about the room with a busy air, +picking up her napkin, dusting a chair with his hand, exchanging the +position of the andirons in the fireplace; and, apparently discovering +that the por-trait of Georges Meilhac was out of line, he set it awry, +then straight again, the while he hummed an old “spiritual” of which +only the words “Chain de Lion Down” were allowed to be quite audible. +They were repeated often, and at each repetition of them he seemed +profoundly, though decorously, amused, in a way which might have led +to a conjecture that the refrain bore some distant reference to his +master's eccentricity of temper. At first be chuckled softly, but at the +final iteration of “Chain de Lion Down” burst into outright laughter. + +“Honey, my Law!” he exclaimed, “But yo' pa de 'ceivin'dest man! He +mighty proud er you!” + +“Proud of me!” She turned to him in astonishment. + +Nelson's laughter increased. “Hain't be jass de 'ceivin'dest man! +Yessuh, he de sot-uppest man in dis town 'count what you done last +night. What he say dis mawn', dat jass his way!” + +“Ah, no!” said Miss Betty, sadly. + +“Yes'm! He proud er you, but he teahbul mad at dat man. He hain't mad at +you, but he gotter cuss somebody! Jass reach out fo' de nighes' he kin +lay han's on, an' dis mawn' it happen soze it were you, honey. Uhuh! You +oughter hearn him ins' night when he come home. Den it were me. Bless +God, I ain't keerin'. He weren't mad at me, no mo'n' he were at you. He +jass mad!” + +Miss Betty looked at the old fellow keenly. He remained, however, +apparently unconscious of her scrutiny, and occupied himself with +preparations for removing the tray. + +“Nelson, what is the quarrel between my father and Mr. Vanrevel?” + +He had lifted the tray, but set it down precipitately, bending upon her +a surprised and sobered countenance. + +“Missy,” he said, gravely, “Dey big trouble 'twix' dem two.” + +“I know,” she returned quietly. “What is it?” + +“Wha' fo' you ax me, Missy?” + +“Because you're the only one I can ask. I don't know anyone here well +enough, except you.” + +Nelson's lips puckered solemnly. “Mist' Vanrevel vote Whig; but he ag'in +Texas.” + +“Well, what if he is?” + +“Yo' pa mighty strong fo' Texas.” + +“No'm, dat ain't hardly de beginnin'. Mist' lanrevel he a Ab'litionist.” + +“Well? Won't you tell me?” + +“Honey, folks roun' heah mos' on 'em like Mist' Vanrevel so well dey +ain't hole it up ag'in' him--but, Missy, ef dey one thing topper God's +worl' yo' pa do desp'itly and contestably despise, hate, cuss, +an' outrageously 'bominate wuss'n' a yaller August spiduh it are a +Ab'litionist! He want stomple 'em eve'y las' one under he boot-heel, +'cep'n dat one Mist' Crailey Gray. Dey's a considabul sprinklin' er dem +Ab'litionists 'bout de kentry, honey; dey's mo' dat don' know w'ich +dey is; an' dey's mo' still dat don' keer. Soze dat why dey go git up a +quo'l twix' yo' pa an' dat man; an' 'range to have 'er on a platfawm, de +yeah 'fo' de las' campaign; an', suh, dey call de quo'l a de-bate; an' +all de folks come in f'um de kentry, an' all de folks in town come, too. +De whole possetucky on 'em sit an' listen. + +“Fus' yo' pa talk; den Mist' Vanrevel, bofe on 'em mighty cole an' +civilized. Den yo' pa git wo'm up, Missy, like he do, 'case he so useter +have his own way; 'tain't his fault, he jass cain't help hollerin' an' +cussin' if anybody 'pose him; but Mist' Vanrevel he jass as suvvige, but +he stay cole, w'ich make yo' pa all de hotter. He holler mighty strong, +Missy, an' some de back ranks 'gun snickerin' at him. Uhuh! He fa'r +jump, he did; an' den bimeby Mist' Vanrevel he say dat no man oughter be +given de pilverige to sell another, ner to wollop him wid a blacksnake, +whether he 'buse dat pilverige er not. 'My honabul 'ponent,' s's he, +'Mist' Carewe, rep'sent in hisseif de 'ristocratic slave-ownin' class er +de Souf, do' he live in de Nawf an' 'ploy free labor; yit it sca'sely to +be b'lieve dat any er you would willin'ly trus' him wid de powah er life +an' death ovah yo' own chillun, w'ich is virchously what de slave-ownah +p'sess.' + +“Missy, you jass oughter see yo' pa den! He blue in de face an' dance de +quadrille on de boa'ds. He leave his cha'h, git up, an' run 'cross to +de odder side de platfawm, an' shake be fis' ovah dat man's head, an' +screech out how it all lies dat de slaves evah 'ceive sich a treatments. +'Dat all lies, you pu'juh!' he holler. 'All lies, you misabul thief,' he +holler. 'All lies, an' you know it, you low-bawn slandah' an' scoun'le!' + +“An' wid dat Mist' Vanrevel, be laff in yo' pa face, an' tuhn to de +crowd, he did, an' say: 'You reckon dat if dish yuh man a slave-ownah, +an' a slave had anguhed him as I have anguhed him tonight, does any er +you b'lieve dat dat slave wouldn' be tied up an' whipped tell de blood +run, an' den sole down de rivuh to-morrer?' + +“Well, suh, 'co'se mos' on 'em b'lieve same as yo' pa; but dat sutney +fotch 'em, an' win de de-bate, 'case dey jass natchully lay back an' +roah, dey did, Missy; dey laff an' stomp an' holler tell you could a +hearn 'em a mild away. An' honey, yo' pa'd a millyum times druther Mist' +Vanrevel'd a kilt him dan tuhn de laff on him. He'd shoot a man, honey, +ef he jass s'picion him to grin out de cornder his eye at him; an' to +stan' up dah wid de whole county fa'r roahin' at him--it's de God's +mussy be did'n have no ahms wid him, dat night! Ole Mist' Chen'eth +done brung him home, an' yo' pa reach out an' kick me squah' out'n' de +liberry winder soon's he ketch sight er me!” The old man's gravity gave +way to his enjoyment of the recollection, and he threw back his head +to laugh. “He sho' did, honey! Uhuh! Ho, ho, ho! He sho' did, honey, he +sho' did!” + +Nevertheless, as he lifted the tray again and crossed the room to go, +his solemnity returned. “Missy,” he said earnestly, “ef dat young gelmun +fall in love wid you, w'ich I knows he will ef he ketch sight er you, +lemme say dis, an' please fo' to ba'h in mine: better have nuttin' do +wid him fo' he own sake; an' 'bove all, keep him fur sway f'um dese +p'emises. Don' let him come in a mild er dis house.” + +“Nelson, was that all the quarrel between them?” + +“Blessed Mussy! ain' dat 'nough? Ef dey's any mo' I ain' hearn what dat +part were,” he answered quickly, but with a dogged tightening of the +lips which convinced Miss Betty that he knew very well. + +“Nelson, what was the rest of it?” + +“Please, Missy, I got pack yo' pa trunk; an' it time, long ago, fer me +to be at my wu'k.” He was half out of the door. + +“What was the rest of it?” she repeated quietly. + +“Now, honey,” he returned with a deprecatory shake of his head, “I got +my own wu'k 'tend to; an' I ain't nevah ax nobody what 'twas, an' I +ain't goin' ax 'em. An' lemme jass beg you f oiler de ole man's advice: +you do de same, 'case nobody ain't goin' tell you. All I know is dat it +come later and were somep'n 'bout dat riprarin Crailey Gray. Yo' pa he +sent a channelge to Mist' Vanrevel, an' Mist' Vanrevel 'fuse to fight +him 'cause he say he don' b'lieve shootin' yo' pa goin' do yo' pa any +good, an' he still got hope mekkin' good citizen outer him. Dat brung de +laff on yo' pa ag'in; an' he 'clare to God ef he ketch Vanrevel on any +groun' er hisn he shoot him like a mad dog. 'Pon my livin' soul he mean +dem wuds, Missy! Dey had hard 'nough time las' night keepin' him fum +teahin' dat man to pieces at de fiah. You mus' keep dat young gelmun +'way fum heah!” + +“He came home with me last night, Nelson; I told father so.” + +“Yes'm. Yo' pa tole me you say dat, but he reckon you done it to mek him +madder, 'cause you mad, too. He say he done see dat Crailey Gray comin' +'long de hedge wid you.” + +“He was mistaken, it was Mr. Vanrevel.” + +Nelson rolled his eyes fervently to heaven. “Den dat young man run +pintedly on he death! Ef you want keep us all dis side er de Jawdan +Rivuh, don' let him set foot in dis neighbo'hood when yo' pa come back! +An', honey--” his voice sank to a penetrating whisper--“'fo' I do +a lick er wu'k I goin' out in de stable an' git down on my knees an' +retu'n thanksgiving to de good God 'case he hole Carewe Street in de +dahkness las' night!” + +This was the speech he chose for his exit, but, after closing the door +behind him, he opened it again, and said, cheerfully: + +“Soon's I git de trunk fix f' yo' pa, I bring 'roun' dat bay colt wid de +side saddle. You better set 'bout gittin' on yo' ridin'-habit, Missy. De +roads is mighty good dis sunshiny wedduh.” + +“Nelson?” + +“Do you think such an attack as father had this morning--is--dangerous?” + +He had hoped for another chance to laugh violently before he left her, +and this completely fitted his desire. “Ho, ho, he!” he shouted. “No'm, +no, no, honey! He jass git so mad it mek him sick. You couldn' kill dat +man wid a broad-ax, Missy!” + +And he went down the hail leaving the reverberations of his hilarity +behind him. The purpose of his visit had been effected, for, when Miss +Betty appeared upon the horse-block in her green habit and gauntlets, +she was smiling; so that only a woman--or a wise old man--could have +guessed that she had wept bitterly that morning. + +She cantered out to the flat, open country to the east, where she found +soft dirt-roads that were good for the bay colt's feet, and she reached +a cross-road several miles from town before she was overcome by the +conviction that she was a wicked and ungrateful girl. She could not +place the exact spot of her guilt, but she knew it was there, somewhere, +since she felt herself a guilty thing. + +For the picture which Nelson had drawn rose before her: the one man +standing alone in his rage on the platform, overwhelmed by his calm +young adversary, beaten and made the butt of laughter for a thousand. +Her father had been in the wrong in that quarrel, and somehow she was +sure, too, he must have been wrong in the “personal” one, as well: the +mysterious difficulty over Fanchon's Mr. Gray, who had looked so ashamed +last night. What feud could they make over him, of all people in the +world? He looked strong enough to take care of his own quarrels, even if +he was so rigorously bound by Fanchon's apron-string when it came to a +word with another girl! + +But the conclusion that her father had been in error did not lessen the +pathetic appeal of the solitary figure facing the ridicule of the crowd. +She felt that he always honestly believed himself in the right; she +knew that he was vain; that he had an almost monstrous conception of his +dignity; and, realizing the bitterness of that public humiliation which +he had undergone, she understood the wrath, the unspeakable pain and +sense of outrage, which must have possessed him. + +And now she was letting him go forth upon a journey--his way beset with +the chances of illness and accident--whence he might never return; she +was letting him go without seeing him again; letting him go with no +word of farewell from his daughter. In brief: she was a wicked girl. She +turned the colt's head abruptly to the west and touched his flanks with +her whip. + +So it fell out that as the packet foamed its passage backward from +Carewe's wharf into the current, the owner of the boat, standing upon +the hurricane deck, heard a cry from the shore, and turned to behold +his daughter dash down to the very end of the wharf on the well-lathered +colt. Miss Betty's hair was blown about her face; her cheeks were rosy, +her eager eyes sparkling from more than the hard riding. + +“Papa!” she cried, “I'm sorry!” + +She leaned forward out of the saddle, extending her arms to him +appealingly in a charming gesture, and, absolutely ignoring the idlers +on the wharf and the passengers on the steamer, was singly intent upon +the tall figure on the hurricane-deck. “Papa--good-by. Please forgive +me!” + +“By the Almighty, but that's a fine woman!” said the captain of the boat +to a passenger from Rouen. “Is she his daughter?” + +“Please forgive me!” the clear voice came again, with its quaver of +entreaty, across the widening water; and then, as Mr. Carewe made +no sign, by word or movement, of hearing her, and stood without the +slightest alteration of his attitude, she cried to him once more: + +“Good-by!” + +The paddle-wheels reversed; the boat swung down the river, Mr. Carewe +still standing immovable on the hurricane-deck, while, to the gaze of +those on the steamer, the figure on the bay colt at the end of the wharf +began to grow smaller and smaller. She was waving her handkerchief in +farewell, and they could see the little white speck in the distance, +dimmer and dimmer, yet fluttering still as they passed out of sight +round the bend nearly three-quarters of a mile below. + + + +CHAPTER IX. The Rule of the Regent + +Betty never forgot her first sight of the old friend of her family. +Returning with a sad heart, she was walking the colt slowly through +the carriage-gates, when an extravagantly stout lady, in green muslin +illustrated with huge red flowers, came out upon the porch and waved a +fat arm to the girl. The visitor wore a dark-green turban and a Cashmere +shawl, while the expanse of her skirts was nothing short of magnificent: +some cathedral-dome seemed to have been misplaced and the lady dropped +into it. Her outstretched hand terrified Betty: how was she to approach +near enough to take it? + +Mrs. Tanberry was about sixty, looked forty, and at first you might have +guessed she weighed nearly three hundred, but the lightness of her smile +and the actual buoyancy which she somehow imparted to her whole dominion +lessened that by at least a hundred-weight. She ballooned out to the +horse-block with a billowy rush somewhere between bounding and soaring; +and Miss Betty slid down from the colt, who shied violently, to find +herself enveloped, in spite of the dome, in a vast surf of green and red +muslin. + +“My charming girl!” exclaimed the lady vehemently, in a voice of such +husky richness, of such merriment and unction of delight, that it fell +upon Miss Betty's ear with more of the quality of sheer gayety than any +she had ever heard. “Beautiful child! What a beautiful child you are!” + +She kissed the girl resoundingly on both cheeks; stepped back from her +and laughed, and clapped her fat hands, which were covered with flashing +rings. “Oh, but you are a true blue Beauty! You're a Princess! I am Mrs. +Tanberry, Jane Tanberry, young Janie Tanberry. I haven't seen you since +you were a baby and your pretty mother was a girl like us!” + +“You are so kind to come,” said Betty hesitatingly. “I shall try to be +very obedient.” + +“Obedient!” Mrs. Tanberry uttered the word with a shriek. “You'll be +nothing of the kind. I am the light-mindedest woman in the universe, +and anyone who obeyed me would be embroiled in everlasting trouble every +second in the day. You'll find that I am the one that needs looking +after, my charmer!” + +She tapped Miss Betty's cheek with her jeweled fingers as the two +mounted the veranda steps. “It will be worry enough for you to obey +yourself; a body sees that at the first blush. You have conscience +in your forehead and rebellion in your chin. Ha, ha, ha!” Here Mrs. +Tanberry sat upon, and obliterated, a large chair, Miss Carewe taking a +stool at her knee. + +“People of our age oughtn't to be bothered with obeying; there'll be +time enough for that when we get old and can't enjoy anything. Ha, ha!” + +Mrs. Tanberry punctuated her observations with short volleys of husky +laughter, so abrupt in both discharge and cessation that, until Miss +Betty became accustomed to the habit, she was apt to start slightly at +each salvo. “I had a husband--once,” the lady resumed, “but only once, +my friend! He had ideas like your father's--your father is such an +imbecile!--and he thought that wives, sisters, daughters, and such like +ought to be obedient: that is, the rest of the world was wrong unless it +was right; and right was just his own little, teeny-squeeny prejudices +and emotions dressed up for a crazy masquerade as Facts. Poor man! He +only lasted about a year!” And Mrs. Tanberry laughed heartily. + +“They've been at me time and again to take another.” She lowered her +voice and leaned toward Betty confidentially. “Not I! I'd be willing +to engage myself to Crailey Gray (though Crailey hasn't got round to me +yet) for I don't mind just being engaged, my dear; but they'll have to +invent something better than a man before I marry any one of 'em again! +But I love 'em, I do, the Charming Billies! And you'll see how they +follow me!” She patted the girl's shoulder, her small eyes beaming +quizzically. “We'll have the gayest house in Rouen, ladybird! The young +men all go to the Bareauds', but they'll come here now, and we'll have +the Bareauds along with 'em. I've been away a long time, just finished +unpacking yesterday night when your father came in after the fire--Whoo! +what a state he was in with that devilish temper of his! Didn't I snap +him up when he asked me to come and stay with you? Ha, ha! I'd have +come, even if you hadn't been beautiful; but I was wild to be your +playmate, for I'd heard nothing but 'Miss Betty Carewe, Miss Betty +Carewe' from everybody I saw, since the minute my stage came in. You set +'em all mad at your ball, and I knew we'd make a glorious house-full, +you and I! Some of the vagabonds will turn up this very evening, you'll +see if they don't. Ha, ha! The way they follow me!” + +Mrs. Tanberry was irresistible: she filled the whole place otherwise +than by the mere material voluminousness of her; bubbling over with +froth of nonsense which flew through the house, driven by her energy, +like sea-foam on a spring gale; and the day, so discordantly begun for +Miss Betty, grew musical with her own laughter, answering the husky +staccato of the vivacious newcomer. Nelson waited upon them at table, +radiant, his smile like the keyboard of an ebony piano, and his +disappearances into the kitchen were accomplished by means of a +surreptitious double-shuffle, and followed by the cachinnating echoes +of the vain Mamie's reception of the visitor's sallies, which Nelson +hastily retailed in passing. + +Nor was Mrs. Tanberry's prediction allowed to go unfulfilled regarding +the advent of those persons whom she had designated as vagabonds. It may +have been out of deference to Mr. Carewe's sense of decorum (or from +a cautious regard of what he was liable to do when he considered that +sense outraged) that the gallants of Rouen had placed themselves under +the severe restraint of allowing three days to elapse after their +introduction to Miss Carewe before they “paid their respects at the +house;” but, be that as it may, the dictator was now safely under way +down the Rouen River, and Mrs. Tanberry reigned in his stead. Thus, +at about eight o'clock that evening, the two ladies sat in the library +engaged in conversation--though, for the sake of accuracy, it should +be said that Mrs. Tanberry was engaged in conversation, Miss Betty in +giving ear--when their attention was arrested by sounds of a somewhat +musical nature from the lawn, which sounds were immediately identified +as emanating from a flute and violin. + +Mrs. Tanberry bounded across the room like a public building caught by a +cyclone, and, dashing at the candles, “Blow 'em out, blow 'em out!” she +exclaimed, suiting the action to the word in a fluster of excitement. + +“Why?” asked Miss Carewe, startled, as she rose to her feet. The candles +were out before the question. + +“'Why!” repeated the merry, husky voice in the darkness. “My goodness, +child precious, those vagabonds are here! To think of your never having +been serenaded before!” + +She drew the girl to the window and pointed to a group of dim figures +near the iliac bushes. “The dear, delightful vagabonds!” she chuckled. +“I knew they'd come! It's the beautiful Tappingham Marsh with his +fiddle, and young Jeff Bareaud with his flute, and 'Gene Madrillon +and little Frank Chenowith and thin Will Cummings to sing. Hark to the +rascals!” + +It is perfectly truthful to say that the violin and flute executed the +prelude, and then the trio sounded full on the evening air, the more +effective chords obligingly drawn out as long as the breath in the +singers could hold them, in order to allow the two fair auditors +complete benefit of the harmony. They sang “The Harp that Once Thro' +Tara's Halls,” and followed it with “Long, Long Ago.” + +“That,” Mrs. Tanberry whispered, between stifled gusts of almost +uncontrollable laughter, “is meant for just me!” + +“Tell me the tales that to me were so dear,” entreated the trio. + +“I told 'em plenty!” gurgled the enlivening widow. “And I expect between +us we can get up some more.” “Now you are come my grief is removed,” + they sang. + +“They mean your father is on his way to St. Louis,” remarked Mrs. +Tanberry. + +“Let me forget that so long you have roved, Let me believe that you love +as you loved, Long, long ago, long ago.” + +“Applaud, applaud!” whispered Mrs. Tanberry, encouraging the minstrels +by a hearty clapping of hands. + +Hereupon dissension arose among the quintet, evidently a dispute in +regard to their next selection; one of the gentlemen appearing more +than merely to suggest a solo by himself, while the others too frankly +expressed adverse opinions upon the value of the offering. The argument +became heated, and in spite of many a “Sh!” and “Not so loud!” the +ill-suppressed voice of the intending soloist, Mr. Chenoweth, could be +heard vehemently to exclaim: “I will! I learned it especially for this +occasion. I will sing it!” + +His determination, patently, was not to be balked without physical +encounter, consequently he was permitted to advance some paces from the +lilac bushes, where he delivered himself, in an earnest and plaintive +tenor, of the following morbid instructions, to which the violin played +an obligato in tremulo, so execrable, and so excruciatingly discordant, +that Mr. Chenoweth's subsequent charge that it was done with a +deliberately evil intention could never be successfully opposed: + + “Go! Forget me! + Why should Sorrow + O'er that brow a shadow fling? + Go! Forget me, and, to-morrow, + Brightly smile and sweetly sing! + + “Smile! tho' I may not be near thee; + Smile! tho' I may never see thee; + May thy soul with pleasure shine + Lasting as this gloom of mine!” + +Miss Carewe complied at once with the request; while her companion, +unable to stop with the slight expression of pleasure demanded by the +songster, threw herself upon a sofa and gave way to the mirth that +consumed her. + +Then the candles were relit, the serenaders invited within; Nelson came +bearing cake and wine, and the house was made merry. Presently, the +romp, Virginia Bareaud, making her appearance on the arm of General +Trumble, Mrs. Tanberry led them all in a hearty game of Blind-man's +Buff, followed by as hearty a dancing of Dan Tucker. After that, a +quadrille being proposed, Mrs. Tanberry suggested that Jefferson should +run home and bring Fanchon for the fourth lady. However, Virginia +explained that she had endeavored to persuade both her sister and +Mr. Gray to accompany the General and herself, but that Mr. Gray had +complained of indisposition, having suffered greatly from headache, on +account of inhaling so much smoke at the warehouse fire; and, of +course, Fanchon would not leave him. (Miss Carewe permitted herself the +slightest shrug of the shoulders.) + +So they danced the quadrille with Jefferson at the piano and Mr. Marsh +performing in the character of a lady, a proceeding most unacceptable to +the General, whom Mrs. Tanberry forced to be his partner. And thus the +evening passed gayly away, and but too quickly, to join the ghosts of +all the other evenings since time began; and each of the little company +had added a cheerful sprite to the long rows of those varied shades that +the after years bring to revisit us, so many with pathetic reproach, so +many bearing a tragic burden of faces that we cannot make even to weep +again, and so few with simple merriment and lightheartedness. Tappingham +Marsh spoke the truth, indeed, when he exclaimed in parting, “O rare +Mrs. Tanberry!” + +But the house had not done with serenades that night. The guests had +long since departed; the windows were still and dark under the wan old +moon, which had risen lamely, looking unfamiliar and not half itself; +the air bore an odor of lateness, and nothing moved; when a delicate +harmony stole out of the shadows beyond the misty garden. Low but +resonant chords sounded on the heavier strings of a guitar, while above +them, upon the lighter wires, rippled a slender, tinkling melody that +wooed the slumberer to a delicious half-wakefulness, as dreamily, as +tenderly, as the croon of rain on the roof soothes a child to +sleep. Under the artist's cunning touch the instrument was both the +accompaniment and the song; and Miss Betty, at first taking the music +to be a wandering thread in the fabric of her own bright dreams, drifted +gradually to consciousness to find herself smiling. Her eyes opened +wide, but half closed again with the ineffable sweetness of the sound. + +Then a voice was heard, eerily low, yet gallant and clear, a vibrant +baritone, singing to the guitar. + +“My lady's hair, That dark delight, Is both as fair And dusk as night. +I know some lovelorn hearts that beat In time to moonbeam twinklings +fleet, That dance and glance like jewels there, Emblazoning the raven +hair! + +“Ah, raven hair! So dark and bright, What loves lie there Enmeshed, +to-night? I know some sighing lads that say Their hearts were snared and +torn away; And now as pearls one fate they share, Entangled in the raven +hair. + +“Ah, raven hair, From such a plight Could you not spare One acolyte? I +know a broken heart that went To serve you but as ornament. Alas! a ruby +now you wear, Ensanguining the raven hair!” + +The song had grown fainter and fainter, the singer moving away as he +sang, and the last lines were almost inaudible in the distance The +guitar could be heard for a moment or two more, then silence came again. +It was broken by a rustling in the room next to Miss Betty's, and Mrs. +Tanberry called softly through the open door: + +“Princess, are you awake? Did you hear that serenade?” + +After a pause the answer came hesitatingly in a small, faltering voice: +“Yes--if it was one. I thought perhaps he was only singing as he passed +along the street.” + +“Aha!” ejaculated Mrs. Tanberry, abruptly, as though she had made an +unexpected discovery. “You knew better; and this was a serenade that +you did not laugh at. Beautiful, I wouldn't let it go any farther, even +while your father is gone. Something might occur that would bring him +home without warning--such things have happened. Tom Vanrevel ought to +be kept far away from this house.” + +“Oh, it was not he,” returned Miss Betty, quickly. “It was Mr. Gray. +Didn't you--” + +“My dear,” interrupted the other, “Crailey Gray's specialty is talking. +Most of the vagabonds can sing and play a bit, and so can Crailey, +particularly when he's had a few bowls of punch; but when Tom Vanrevel +touches the guitar and lifts up his voice to sing, there isn't an angel +in heaven that wouldn't quit the place and come to hear him! Crailey +wrote those words to Virginia Bareaud. (Her hair is even darker than +yours, you know.) That was when he was being engaged to her; and Tom +must have set the music to 'em lately, and now comes here to sing 'em +to you; and well enough they fit you! But you must keep him away, +Princess.” + +Nevertheless, Betty knew the voice was not that which had bid her look +to the stars, and she remained convinced that it belonged to Mr. Crailey +Gray, who had been too ill, a few hours earlier, to leave the Bareaud +house, and now, with Fanchon's kisses on his lips, came stealing into +her garden and sang to her a song he had made for another girl! + +And the angels would leave heaven to listen when he sang, would they? +Poor Fanchon! No wonder she held him so tightly in leading strings! +He might risk his life all he wished at the end of a grappling-ladder, +dangling in a fiery cloud above nothing; but when it came to--ah, well, +poor Fanchon! Did she invent the headaches for him, or did she make him +invent them for himself? + +If there was one person in the world whom Miss Betty held in bitter +contempt and scorn, it was the owner of that voice and that guitar. + + + +CHAPTER X. Echoes of a Serenade + +More than three gentlemen of Rouen wore their hearts in their eyes for +any fool to gaze upon; but three was the number of those who told their +love before the end of the first week of Mr. Carewe's absence, and told +it in spite of Mrs. Tanberry's utmost effort to preserve, at all +times, a conjunction between herself and Miss Betty. For the good lady, +foreseeing these declarations much more surely than did the subject of +them, wished to spare her lovely charge the pain of listening to them. + +Miss Carewe honored each of the lorn three with few minutes of gravity; +but the gentle refusal prevented never a swain from being as truly +her follower as before; not that she resorted to the poor device of +half-dismissal, the every-day method of the school-girl flirt, who thus +keeps the lads in dalliance, but because, even for the rejected, it was +a delight to be near her. For that matter, it is said that no one ever +had enough of the mere looking at her. Also, her talk was enlivening +even to the lively, being spiced with surprising turns and amiably +seasoned with the art of badinage. To use the phrase of the time, she +possessed the accomplishments, an antiquated charm now on the point of +disappearing, so carefully has it been snubbed under whenever exhibited. +The pursuing wraith of the young, it comes to sit, a ghost at every +banquet, driving the flower of our youth to unheard-of exertions in +search of escape, to dubious diplomacy, to dismal inaction, or to wine; +yet time was when they set their hearts on “the accomplishments.” + +Miss Betty Carewe at her harp, ah! it was a dainty picture: the clear +profile, with the dark hair low across the temple, silhouetted duskily, +in the cool, shadowy room, against the open window; the slender figure, +one arm curving between you and the strings, the other gleaming behind +them; the delicate little sandal stealing from the white froth of silk +and lace to caress the pedal; the nimble hands fluttering across the +long strands, “Like white blossoms borne on slanting lines of rain;” and +the great gold harp rising to catch a javelin of sunshine that pierced +the vines at the window where the honeysuckles swung their skirts to +the refrain--it was a picture to return many a long year afterward, and +thrill the reveries of old men who were then young. And, following the +light cascading ripples of the harp, when her low contralto lifted +in one of the “old songs,” she often turned inquiringly to see if the +listener liked the music, and her brilliant, dark eyes would rest on +his with an appeal that blinded his entranced soul. She meant it for +the mere indication of a friendly wish to suit his tastes, but it looked +like the divine humility of love. Nobody wondered that General Trumble +should fall to verse-making in his old age. + +She sketched magnificently. This is the very strongest support for the +assertion: Frank Chenoweth and Tappingham Marsh agreed, with tears of +enthusiasm, that “magnificently” was the only word. They came to this +conclusion as they sat together at the end of a long dinner (at which +very little had been eaten) after a day's picnic by the river. Miss +Carewe had been of their company, and Tappingham and Chenoweth found +each his opportunity in the afternoon. The party was small, and no one +had been able to effect a total unconsciousness of the maneuvers of the +two gentle-men. Even Fanchon Bareaud comprehended languidly, though she +was more blurred than ever, and her far-away eyes belied the mechanical +vivacity of her manner, for Crailey was thirty miles down the river, +with a fishing-rod neatly packed in a leather case. + +Mr. Vanrevel, of course, was not invited; no one would have thought of +asking him to join a small party of which Robert Carewe's daughter was +to be a member. But it was happiness enough for Tom, that night, to lie +hidden in the shrubbery, looking up at the stars between the leaves, +while he listened to her harp, and borne through the open window on +enchanted airs, the voice of Elizabeth Carewe singing “Robin Adair.” + +It was now that the town indulged its liveliest spirit; never an evening +lacked its junketing, while the happy folk of Rouen set the early summer +to music. Serenade, dance, and song for them, the light-hearts, young +and old making gay together! It was all laughter, either in sunshine +or by candlelight, undisturbed by the far thunder below the southern +horizon, where Zachary Taylor had pitched his tent, upon the Rio Grande. + +One fair evening, soon after that excursion which had proved fatal to +the hopes of the handsome Tappingham and of the youthful Chenoweth, it +was the privilege of Mr. Thomas Vanrevel to assist Miss Carewe and +her chaperon from their carriage, as they drove up to a dance at the +Bareauds'. This good fortune fell only to great deserving, for he had +spent an hour lurking outside the house in the hope of performing such +offices for them. + +Heaven was in his soul and the breath departed out of his body, when, +after a moment of hesitation, Miss Betty's little lace-gauntleted glove +was placed in his hand, and her white slipper shimmered out from the +lilac flounces of her dress to fall like a benediction, he thought, on +each of the carriage-steps. + +It was the age of garlands; they wreathed the Muses, the Seasons, and +their speech, so the women wore wreaths in their hair, and Miss +Betty's that night was of marguerites. “Read your fortune in them all,” + whispered Tom's heart, “and of whomsoever you wish to learn, every petal +will say 'He loves you; none declare, He loves you not!'” + +She bowed slightly, but did not speak to him, which was perhaps a better +reception than that accorded the young man by her companion. “Oh, it's +you, is it!” was Mrs. Tanberry's courteous observation as she canted the +vehicle in her descent. She looked sharply at Miss Betty, and even +the small glow of the carriage-lamps showed that the girl's cheeks had +flushed very red. Mr. Vanrevel, on the contrary, was pale. + +They stood for a moment in awkward silence, while, from the lighted +house where the flying figures circled, came the waltz: “I dreamt that +I dwe-helt in ma-har-ble halls.” Tom's own dreams were much wilder than +the gypsy girl's; he knew that; yet he spoke out bravely: + +“Will you dance the two first with me?” + +Miss Betty bit her lip, frowned, turned away, and, vouchsafing no reply, +walked toward the house with her eyes fixed on the ground; but just as +they reached the door she flashed over him a look that scorched him from +head to foot, and sent his spirits down through the soles of his boots +to excavate a grotto in the depths of the earth, so charged it was with +wrathful pity and contempt. + +“Yes!” she said abruptly, and followed Mrs. Tanberry to the +dressing-room. + +The elder lady shook her head solemnly as she emerged from the enormous +folds of a yellow silk cloak. “Ah, Princess,” she said, touching the +girl's shoulder with her jeweled hand, “I told you I was a very foolish +woman, and I am, but not so foolish as to offer advice often. Yet, +believe me, it won't do. I think that is one of the greatest young men I +ever knew, and it's a pity--but it won't do.” + +Miss Betty kept her face away from her guardian for a moment. No +inconsiderable amount of information had drifted to her, from here +and there, regarding the career of Crailey Gray, and she thought how +intensely she would have hated any person in the world except Mrs. +Tanberry for presuming to think she needed to be warned against the +charms of this serenading lady-killer, who was the property of another +girl. + +“You must keep him away, I think,” ventured Mrs. Tanberry, gently. + +At that Betty turned to her and said, sharply: + +“I will. After this, please let us never speak of him again.” + +A slow nod of the other's turbaned head indicated the gravest +acquiescence. She saw that her companion's cheeks were still crimson. “I +understand,” said she. + +A buzz of whispering, like a July beetle, followed Miss Carewe and her +partner about the room during the next dance. How had Tom managed it? +Had her father never told her? Who had dared to introduce them? Fanchon +was the only one who knew, and as she whirled by with Will Cummings, +she raised her absent glance long enough to give Tom an affectionate and +warning shake of the head. + +Tom did not see this; Miss Carewe did. Alas! She smiled upon him +instantly and looked deep into his eyes. It was the third time. + +She was not afraid of this man-flirt; he was to be settled with once and +forever. She intended to avenge both Fanchon and herself; yet it is a +hazardous game, this piercing of eye with eye, because the point which +seeks to penetrate may soften and melt, leaving one defenseless. For +perhaps ten seconds that straight look lasted, while it seemed to her +that she read clear into the soul of him, and to behold it, through +some befooling magic, as strong, tender, wise, and true, as his outward +appearance would have made an innocent stranger believe him; for he +looked all these things; she admitted that much; and he had an air of +distinction and resource beyond any she had ever known, even in the wild +scramble for her kitten he had not lost it. So, for ten seconds, which +may be a long time, she saw a man such as she had dreamed, and she did +not believe her sight, because she had no desire to be as credulous as +the others, to be as easily cheated as that poor Fanchon! + +The luckless Tom found his own feet beautiful on the mountains, and, +treading the heights with airy steps, appeared to himself wonderful and +glorified--he was waltzing with Miss Betty He breathed the entrancing +words to himself, over and over: it was true, he was waltzing with Miss +Betty Carewe! Her glove lay warm and light within his own; his fingers +clasped that ineffable lilac and white brocade waist. Sometimes her hair +came within an inch of his cheek, and then he rose outright from +the hilltops and floated in a golden mist. The glamour of which the +Incroyable had planned to tell her some day, surrounded Tom, and it +seemed to him that the whole world was covered with a beautiful light +like a carpet, which was but the radiance of this adorable girl whom his +gloves and coat-sleeve were permitted to touch. When the music stopped, +they followed in the train of other couples seeking the coolness of +out-of-doors for the interval, and Tom, in his soul, laughed at all +other men with illimitable condescension. + +“Stop here,” she said, as they reached the open gate. He was walking out +of it, his head in the air, and Miss Betty on his arm. Apparently, he +would have walked straight across the State. It was the happiest moment +he had ever known. + +He wanted to say something wonderful to her; his speech should be like +the music and glory and lire that was in him; therefore he was shocked +to hear himself remarking, with an inanity of utterance that sickened +him: + +“Oh, here's the gate, isn't it?” + +Her answer was a short laugh. “You mean you wish to persuade me that you +had forgotten it was there?” + +“I did not see it,” he protested, lamentably. + +“No?” + +“I wasn't thinking of it.” + +“Indeed! You were 'lost in thoughts of '--” + +“Of you!” he said, before he could check himself. + +“Yes?” Her tone was as quietly contemptuous as she could make it. “How +very frank of you! May I ask: Are you convinced that speeches of that +sort are always to a lady's liking?” + +“No,” he answered humbly, and hung his head. Then she threw the question +at him abruptly: + +“Was it you who came to sing in our garden?” + +There was a long pause before a profound sigh came tremulously from the +darkness, like a sad and tender confession. “Yes.” + +“I thought so!” she exclaimed. “Mrs. Tanberry thought it was someone +else; but I knew that it was you.” + +“Yes, you are right,” he said, quietly. “It was I. It was my only way to +tell you what you know now.” + +“Of course!” She set it all aside with those two words and the slightest +gesture of her hand. “It was a song made for another girl, I believe?” + she asked lightly, and with an icy smile, inquired farther: “For the +one--the one before the last, I understand?” + +He lifted his head, surprised. “What has that to do with it? The music +was made for you--but then, I think all music was made for you.” + +“Leave the music out of it, if you please,” she said, impatiently. “Your +talents make you modest! No doubt you consider it unmaidenly in me to +have referred to the serenade before you spoke of it; but I am not one +to cast down my eyes and let it pass. No, nor one too sweet to face the +truth, either!” she cried with sudden passion. “To sing that song in the +way you did, meant--oh, you thought I would flirt with you! What right +had you to come with such a song to me?” + +Tom intended only to disclaim the presumption, so far from his thoughts, +that his song had moved her, for he could see that her attack was +prompted by her inexplicable impression that he had assumed the attitude +of a conqueror, but his explanation began unfortunately. + +“Forgive me. I think you have completely misunderstood; you thought it +meant something I did not intend, at all, and--” + +“What!” she said, and her eyes blazed, for now she beheld him as the +arrant sneak of the world. He, the lady-killer, with his hypocritical +air of strength and melancholy sweetness, the leader of drunken revels, +and, by reputation, the town Lothario and Light-o'-Love, under promise +of marriage to Fanchon Bareaud, had tried to make love to another girl, +and now his cowardice in trying to disclaim what he had done lent him +the insolence to say to this other: “My child, you are betrayed by your +youth and conceit; you exaggerate my meaning. I had no intention to +distinguish you by coquetting with you!” This was her interpretation of +him; and her indignation was not lessened by the inevitable conclusion +that he, who had been through so many scenes with women, secretly found +her simplicity diverting. Miss Betty had a little of her father in her; +while it was part of her youth, too, that, of all things she could least +endure the shadow of a smile at her own expense. + +“Oh, oh!” she cried, her voice shaking with anger. “I suppose your bad +heart is half-choked with your laughter at me.” + +She turned from him swiftly, and left him. + +Almost running, she entered the house, and hurried to a seat by +Mrs. Tanberry, nestling to her like a young sapling on a hillside. +Instantaneously, several gentlemen, who had hastily acquitted themselves +of various obligations in order to seek her, sprang forward with eager +greetings, so that when the stricken Tom, dazed and confounded by his +evil luck, followed her at about five paces, he found himself confronted +by an impenetrable abbatis formed by the spiked tails of the coats of +General Trumble, Madrillon, Tappingham Marsh, Cummings and Jefferson +Bareaud. Within this fortification rang out laughter and sally from Miss +Carewe; her color was high and her eyes sparkled never more brightly. + +Flourish and alarums sounded for a quadrille. Each of the semi-circle, +firmly elbowing his neighbor, begged the dance of Miss Betty; but Tom +was himself again, and laid a long, strong hand on Madrillon's shoulder, +pressed him gently aside, and said: + +“Forgive me; Miss Carewe has honored me by the promise of this +quadrille.” + +He bowed, offering his arm, and none of them was too vain to envy that +bow and gesture. + +For a moment he remained waiting. Miss Carewe rose slowly, and, directly +facing him, said in composed and even voice: “You force me to beg you +never to address me again.” + +She placed her hand on the General's arm, turning her back squarely upon +Tom. + +In addition to those who heard, many persons in that part of the room +saw the affront and paused in arrested attitudes; others, observing +these, turned inquiringly, so that sudden silence fell, broken only +by the voice of Miss Betty as she moved away, talking cheerily to the +General. Tom was left standing alone in the broken semicircle. + +All the eyes swept from her to him and back; then everyone began to talk +hastily about nothing. The young man's humiliation was public. + +He went to the door under cover of the movement of the various couples +to find places in the quadrille, yet every sidelong glance in the room +still rested upon him, and he knew it. He remained in the ball, alone, +through that dance, and at its conclusion, walked slowly through +the rooms, speaking to people, here and there, as though nothing +had happened, but when the music sounded again, he went to the +dressing-room, found his hat and cloak, and left the house. For a +while he stood on the opposite side of the street, watching the lighted +windows, and twice he caught sight of the lilac and white brocade, the +dark hair, and the wreath of marguerites. Then, with a hot pain in his +breast, and the step of a Grenadier, he marched down the street. + +In the carriage Mrs. Tanberry took Betty's hand in hers. “I'll do as you +wish, child,” she said, “and never speak to you of him again as long as +I live, except this once. I think it was best for his own sake as well +as yours, but--” + +“He needed a lesson,” interrupted Miss Betty, wearily. She had danced +long and hard, and she was very tired. + +Mrs. Tanberry's staccato laugh came out irrepressibly. “All the +vagabonds do, Princess!” she cried. “And I think they are getting it.” + +“No, no, I don't mean--” + +“We've turned their heads, my dear, between us, you and I; and we'll +have to turn 'em again, or they'll break their necks looking over their +shoulders at us, the owls!” She pressed the girl's hand affectionately. +“But you'll let me say something just once, and forgive me because we're +the same foolish age, you know. It's only this: The next young man you +suppress, take him off in a corner! Lead him away from the crowd where +he won't have to stand and let them look at him afterward. That's all, +my dear, and you mustn't mind.” + +“I'm not sorry!” said Miss Betty hotly. “I'm not sorry!” + +“No, no,” said Mrs. Tanberry, soothingly. “It was better this time to do +just what you did. I'd have done it myself, to make quite sure he would +keep away--because I like him.” + +“I'm not sorry!” said Miss Betty again. + +“I'm not sorry!” she repeated and reiterated to herself after Mrs. +Tanberry had gone to bed. She had sunk into a chair in the library +with a book, and “I'm not sorry!” she whispered as the open unread page +blurred before her, “I'm not sorry!” He had needed his lesson; but she +had to bear the recollection of how white his face went when he received +it. Her affront had put about him a strange loneliness: the one figure +with the stilled crowd staring; it had made a picture from which her +mind's eye had been unable to escape, danced she never so hard and late. +Unconsciously, Robert Carewe's daughter had avenged the other figure +which had stood in lonely humiliation before the staring eyes. + +“I'm not sorry!” Ah, did they think it was in her to hurt any living +thing in the world? The book dropped from her lap, and she bowed her +head upon her hands. “I'm not sorry! “--and tears upon the small lace +gauntlets! + +She saw them, and with an incoherent exclamation, half self-pitying, +half impatient, ran out to the stars above her garden. + +She was there for perhaps half an hour, and just before she returned to +the house she did a singular thing. + +Standing where all was clear to the sky, where she had stood after her +talk with the Incroyable, when he had bid her look to the stars, she +raised her arms to them again, her face, pale with a great tenderness, +uplifted. + +“You, you, you!” she whispered. “I love you!” + +And yet it was to nothing definite, to no man, nor outline of a man, +to no phantom nor dream-lover, that she spoke; neither to him she had +affronted, nor to him who had bidden her look to the stars. Nor was it +to the stars themselves. + +She returned slowly and thoughtfully to the house, wondering what she +had meant. + + + +CHAPTER XI. A Voice in a Garden + +Crailey came home the next day with a new poem, but no fish. He lounged +up the stairs, late in the afternoon, humming cheerfully to himself, +and, dropping his rod in a corner of Tom's office, laid the poem on +the desk before his partner, produced a large, newly-replenished flask, +opened it, stretched himself comfortably upon a capacious horse-hair +sofa, drank a deep draught, chuckled softly, and requested Mr. Vanrevel +to set the rhymes to music immediately. + +“Try it on your instrument,” he said. “It's a simple verse about nothing +but stars, and you can work it out in twenty minutes with the guitar.” + +“It is broken,” said Tom, not looking up from his work. + +“Broken! When?” + +“Last night.” + +“Who broke it?” + +“It fell from the table in my room.” + +“How? Easily mended, isn't it?” + +“I think I shall not play it soon again.” + +Crailey swung his long legs off the sofa and abruptly sat upright. +“What's this?” he asked gravely. + +Tom pushed his papers away from him, rose and went to the dusty window +that looked to the west, where, at the end of the long street, the +sun was setting behind the ruin of charred timbers on the bank of the +shining river. + +“It seems that I played once too often,” he said. + +Crailey was thoroughly astonished. He took a long, affectionate pull at +the flask and offered it to his partner. + +“No,” said Tom, turning to him with a troubled face, “and if I were you, +I wouldn't either. These fishing trips of yours--” + +“Fishing!” Crailey laughed. “Trips of a poetaster! It's then I write +best, and write I will! There's a poem, and a damned good one, too, old +preacher, in every gill of whiskey, and I'm the lad that can extract it! +Lord! what's better than to be out in the open, all by yourself in the +woods, or on the river? Think of the long nights alone with the glory +of heaven and a good demijohn. Why, a man's thoughts are like actors +performing in the air and all the crowding stars for audience! You know +in your soul you'd rather have me out there, going it all by myself, +than raising thunder over town. And you know, too, it doesn't tell on +me; it doesn't show! You couldn't guess, to save your life, how much +I've had to-day, now, could you?” + +“Yes,” returned the other, “I could.” + +“Well, well,” said Crailey, good-naturedly, “we weren't talking of me.” + He set down the flask, went to his friend and dropped a hand lightly on +his shoulder. “What made you break the guitar? Tell me.” + +“What makes you think I broke it?” asked his partner sharply. + +“Tell me why you did it,” said Crailey. + +And Tom, pacing the room, told him, while Crailey stood in silence, +looking him eagerly in the eye whenever Tom turned his way. The listener +interrupted seldom; once it was to exclaim: “But you haven't said why +you broke the guitar?” + +“'If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out!' I ought to have cut off the +hands that played to her.” + +“And cut your throat for singing to her?” + +“She was right!” the other answered, striding up and down the room. +“Right--a thousand times! in everything she did. That I should even +ap-proach her, was an unspeakable insolence. I had forgotten, and so, +possibly, had she, but I had not even been properly introduced to her.” + +“No, you hadn't, that's true,” observed Crailey, reflectively. “You +don't seem to have much to reproach her with, Tom.” + +“Reproach her!” cried the other. “That I should dream she would speak to +me or have anything to do with me, was to cast a doubt upon her loyalty +as a daughter. She was right, I say! And she did the only thing she +could do: rebuked me before them all. No one ever merited what he got +more roundly than I deserved that. Who was I, in her eyes, that I should +besiege her with my importunities, who but her father's worst enemy?” + +Deep anxiety knitted Crailey's brow. “I understood she knew of the +quarrel,” he said, thoughtfully. “I saw that, the other evening when +I helped her out of the crowd. She spoke of it on the way home, I +remember; but how did she know that you were Vanrevel? No one in town +would be apt to mention you to her.” + +“No, but she did know, you see.” + +“Yes,” returned Mr. Gray slowly. “So it seems! Probably her father told +her to avoid you, and described you so that she recognized you as the +man who caught the kitten.” + +He paused, picked up the flask, and again applied himself to its +contents, his eyes peering over the up-tilted vessel at Tom, who +continued to pace up and down the length of the office. After a time, +Crailey, fumbling in his coat, found a long cheroot, and, as he lit it, +inquired casually: + +“Do you remember if she addressed you by name?” + +“I think not,” Tom answered, halting. “What does it matter?” + +Crailey drew a deep breath. + +“It doesn't,” he returned. + +“She knew me well enough,” said Tom, sadly, as he resumed his sentry-go. + +“Yes,” repeated Crailey, deliberately. “So it seems; so it seems!” He +blew a long stream of smoke out into the air before him, and softly +mur-mured again: “So it seems, so it seems.” + +Silence fell, broken only by the sound of Tom's footsteps, until, +presently, some one informally shouted his name from the street below. +It was only Will Cummings, passing the time of day, but when Tom turned +from the window after answering him, Crailey, his poem, and his flask +were gone. + +That evening Vanrevel sat in the dusty office, driving himself to his +work with a sharp goad, for there was a face that came between him and +all else in the world, and a voice that sounded always in his ears. +But the work was done before he rose from his chair, though he showed a +haggard visage as he bent above his candles to blow them out. + +It was eleven o'clock; Crailey had not come back, and Tom knew that his +light-hearted friend would not return for many hours; and so, having no +mind to read, and no belief that he could if he tried, he went out +to walk the streets. He went down to the river first, and stood for a +little while gazing at the ruins of the two warehouses, and that was +like a man with a headache beating his skull against a wall. As he stood +on the blackened wharf, he saw how the charred beams rose above him +against the sky like a gallows, and it seemed to him that nothing could +have been a better symbol, for here he had hanged his self-respect. +“Reproach her!” He, who had so displayed his imbecility before her! Had +he been her father's best friend, he should have had too great a +sense of shame to dare to speak to her after that night when her quiet +intelligence had exhibited him to himself, and to all the world, as +nought else than a fool--and a noisy one at that! + +Suddenly a shudder convulsed him; he struck his open palm across his +forehead and spoke aloud, while, from horizon to horizon, the night air +grew thick with the whispered laughter of observing hobgoblins: + +“And even if there had been no stairway, we could have slid down the +hose-line!” + +He retraced his steps, a tall, gray figure moving slowly through the +blue darkness, and his lips formed the heart-sick shadow of a smile when +he found that he had unconsciously turned into Carewe Street. Presently +he came to a gap in a hedge, through which he had sometimes stolen to +hear the sound of a harp and a girl's voice singing; but he did not +enter there tonight, though he paused a moment, his head bowed on his +breast. + +There came a sound of voices; they seemed to be moving toward the +hedge, toward the gap where he stood; one a man's eager, quick, but very +musical; the other, a girl's, a rich and clear contralto that passed +into Tom's soul like a psalm of rejoicing and like a scimitar of flame. +He shivered, and moved away quickly, but not before the man's voice, +somewhat louder for the moment, came distinctly from the other side of +the hedge: + +“After all,” said the voice, with a ripple of laughter, “after all, +weren't you a little hard on that poor Mr. Gray?” + +Tom did not understand, but he knew the voice. It was that of Crailey +Gray. + +He heard the same voice again that night, and again stood unseen. Long +after midnight he was still tramping the streets on his lonely rounds, +when he chanced to pass the Rouen House, which hostelry bore, to the +uninitiated eye, the appearance of having closed its doors upon all +hospitalities for the night, in strict compliance with the law of the +city fathers, yet a slender wand of bright light might be discovered +underneath the street door of the bar-room. + +From within the merry retreat issued an uproar of shouting, raucous +laughter and the pounding of glasses on tables, heralding all too +plainly the hypocrisy of the landlord, and possibly that of the city +fathers also. Tom knew what company was gathered there: gamblers, +truckmen, drunken farmers, men from the river steamers making riot +while their boats lay at the wharf, with a motley gathering of +good-for-nothings of the back-alleys, and tippling clerks from the Main +Street stores. There came loud cries for a song, and, in answer, the +voice of Crailey rose over the general din, somewhat hoarse, and +never so musical when he sang as when he spoke, yet so touching in its +dramatic tenderness that soon the noise fell away, and the roisterers +sat quietly to listen. It was not the first time Ben Jonson's song had +stilled a disreputable company. + +“I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honoring thee, As giving it +the hope that there It might not withered be.” + +Perhaps, just then, Vanrevel would have wished to hear him sing anything +in the world rather than that, for on Crailey's lips it carried too much +meaning tonight, after the voice in the garden. And Tom lingered no more +near the betraying sliver of light beneath the door than he had by the +gap in the hedge, but went steadily on his way. + +Not far from the hotel he passed a small building brightly lighted +and echoing with unusual clamors of industry: the office of the Rouen +Journal. The press was going, and Mr. Cummings's thin figure crossed +and recrossed the windows, while his voice could be heard energetically +bidding his assistants to “Look alive!” so that Tom imagined that +something might have happened between the Nueces River and the Rio +Grande; but he did not stop to ask the journalist, for he desired to +behold the face of none of his friends until he had fought out some +things within himself. So he strode on toward nowhere. + +Day was breaking when Mr. Gray climbed the stairs to his room. There +were two flights, the ascent of the first of which occupied about half +an hour of Crailey's invaluable time; and the second might have taken +more of it, or possibly consumed the greater part of the morning, had he +received no assistance. But, as he reclined to meditate upon the first +landing, another man entered the hallway from without, ascended quickly, +and Crailey became pleasantly conscious that two strong hands had lifted +him to his feet; and, presently, that he was being borne aloft upon +the new-comer's back. It seemed quite a journey, yet the motion was +soothing, so he made no effort to open his eyes, until he found himself +gently deposited upon the couch in his own chamber, when he smiled +amiably, and, looking up, discovered his partner standing over him. + +Tom was very pale and there were deep, violet scrawls beneath his eyes. +For once in his life he had come home later than Crailey. + +“First time, you know,” said Crailey, with difficulty. “You'll admit +first time completely incapable? Often needed guiding hand, but +never--quite--before.” + +“Yes,” said Tom, quietly, “it is the first time I ever saw you quite +finished.” + +“Think I must be growing old and constitution refuses bear it. +Disgraceful to be seen in condition, yet celebration justified. H'rah +for the news!” He waved his hand wildly. “Old red, white, and blue! +American eagle now kindly proceed to scream! Starspangled banner intends +streaming to all the trade winds! Sea to sea! Glorious victories on +political thieving exhibition--no, expedition! Everybody not responsible +for the trouble to go and get himself patriotically killed!” + +“What do you mean?” + +“Water!” said the other, feebly. Tom brought the pitcher, and Crailey, +setting his hot lips to it, drank long and deeply; then, with his +friend's assistance, he tied a heavily moistened towel round his head. +“All right very soon and sober again,” he muttered, and lay back upon +the pillow with eyes tightly closed in an intense effort to concentrate +his will. When he opened them again, four or five minutes later, they +had marvellously cleared and his look was self-contained and sane. + +“Haven't you heard the news?” He spoke much more easily now. “It came at +midnight to the Journal.” + +“No; I've been walking in the country.” + +“The Mexicans crossed the Rio Grande on the twenty-sixth of last month, +captured Captain Thornton and murdered Colonel Crook. That means war is +certain.” + +“It has been certain for a long time,” said Tom. “Polk has forced it +from the first.” + +“Then it's a devil of a pity he can't be the only man to die!” + +“Have they called for volunteers?” asked Tom, going toward the door. + +“No; but if the news is true, they will.” + +“Yes,” said Tom; and as he reached the hallway he paused. “Can I help +you to undress?” + +“Certainly not!” Crailey sat up, indignantly. “Can't you see that I'm +perfectly sober? It was the merest temporary fit, and I've shaken it +off. Don't you see?” He got upon his feet, staggered, but shook himself +like a dog coming out of the water, and came to the door with infirm +steps. + +“You're going to bed, aren't you?” asked Tom. “You'd much better.” + +“No,” answered Crailey. “Are you? + +“No. I'm going to work.” + +“You've been all up night, too, haven't you?” Crailey put his hand on +the other's shoulder. “Were you hunting for me?” + +“No; not last night.” + +Crailey lurched suddenly, and Tom caught him about the waist to steady +him. + +“Sweethearting, tippling, vingt-et-un, or poker, eh, Tom?” he shouted, +thickly, with a wild laugh. “Ha, ha, old smug-face, up to my bad tricks +at last!” But, recovering himself immediately, he pushed the other off +at arm's length, and slapped himself smartly on the brow. “Never mind; +all right, all right--only a bad wave, now and then. A walk will make me +more a man than ever.” + +“You'd much better go to bed, Crailey.” + +“I can't. I'm going to change my clothes and go out.” + +“Why?” + +Crailey did not answer, but at that moment the Catholic church-bell, +summoning the faithful to mass, pealed loudly on the morning air; and +the steady glance of Tom Vanrevel rested upon the reckless eyes of the +man beside him as they listened together to its insistent call. Tom +said, gently, almost timidly: + +“You have an--engagement?” + +This time the answer came briskly. “Yes; I promised to take Fanchon to +the cemetery before breakfast, to place some flowers on the grave of the +little brother who died. This happens to be his birthday.” + +It was Tom who averted his eyes, not Crailey. + +“Then you'd best hurry,” he said, hesitatingly; “I mustn't keep you,” + and went downstairs to his office with flushed cheeks, a hanging head, +and an expression which would have led a stranger to believe that he had +just been caught in a lie. + +He went to the Main Street window, and seated himself upon the ledge, +the only one in the room not too dusty for occupation; for here, at this +hour, Tom had taken his place every morning since Elizabeth Carewe had +come from the convent. The window was a coign of vantage, commanding the +corner of Carewe and Main streets. Some distance west of the corner, the +Catholic church cast its long shadow across Main Street, and, in order +to enter the church, a person who lived upon Carewe Street must pass +the corner, or else make a half-mile detour and approach from the other +direction--which the person never did. Tom had thought it out the first +night that the image of Miss Betty had kept him awake--and that was the +first night Miss Carewe spent in Rouen--the St. Mary's girl would be +sure to go to mass every day, which was why the window-ledge was dusted +the next morning. + +The glass doors of the little corner drug-store caught the early sun of +the hot May morning and became like sheets of polished brass; a farmer's +wagon rattled down the dusty street; a group of Irish waitresses from +the hotel made the boardwalk rattle under their hurried steps as they +went toward the church, talking busily to one another; and a blinking +youth in his shirt-sleeves, who wore the air of one newly, but not +gladly, risen, began to struggle mournfully with the shutters of +Madrillon's bank. A moment later, Tom heard Crailey come down the +stairs, sure of foot and humming lightly to himself. The door of the +office was closed; Crailey did not look in, but presently appeared, +smiling, trim, immaculate, all in white linen, on the opposite side of +the street, and offered badinage to the boy who toiled at the shutters. + +The bell had almost ceased to ring when a lady, dressed plainly in +black, but graceful and tall, came rapidly out of Carewe Street, turned +at the corner by the little drug-store, and went toward the church. The +boy was left staring, for Crailey's banter broke off in the middle of a +word. + +He overtook her on the church steps, and they went in together. + +That afternoon Fanchon Bareaud told Tom how beautiful her betrothed +had been to her; he had brought her a great bouquet of violets and +lilies-of-the-valley, and had taken her to the cemetery to place them +on the grave of her baby brother, whose birthday it was. Tears came +to Fanchon's eyes as she spoke of her lover's goodness, and of how +wonderfully he had talked as they stood beside the little grave. + +“He was the only one who remembered that this was poor tiny Jean's +birthday!” she said, and sobbed. “He came just after breakfast and asked +me to go out there with him.” + + + +CHAPTER XII. The Room in the Cupola + +Mr. Carewe returned, one warm May afternoon, by the six o'clock boat, +which was sometimes a day late and sometimes a few hours early; the +latter contingency arising, as in the present instance, when the owner +was aboard. Nelson drove him from the wharf to the bank, where he +conferred briefly, in an undertone, with Eugene Madrillon; after which +Eugene sent a note containing three words to Tappingham Marsh. Marsh +tore up the note, and sauntered over to the club, where he found General +Trumble and Jefferson Bareaud amicably discussing a pitcher of cherry +bounce. + +“He has come,” said Tappingham, pleased to find the pair the only +occupants of the place. “He saw Madrillon, and there's a session +to-night.” + +“Praise the Lord!” exclaimed the stout General, rising to his feet. +“I'll see old Chenoweth at once. My fingers have the itch.” + +“And mine, too,” said Bareaud. “I'd begun to think we'd never have a go +with him again.” + +“You must see that Crailey comes. We want a full table. Drag him, if you +can't get him any other way.” + +“He won't need urging,” said Jefferson. + +“But he cut us last time.” + +“He won't cut tonight. What hour?” + +“Nine,” answered Tappingham. “It's to be a full sitting, remember.” + +“Don't fear for us,” laughed Trumble. + +“Nor for Crailey,” Jefferson added. “After so long a vacation you +couldn't keep him away if you chained him to the court-house pillars; +he'd tear 'em in two!” + +“Here's to our better fortunes, then!” said the old soldier, filling a +glass for Tappingham; and, “Here's to our better fortunes!” echoed the +young men, pouring off the gentle liquor heartily. Having thus made +libation to their particular god, the trio separated. But Jefferson did +not encounter the alacrity of acceptance he expected from Crailey, when +he found him, half an hour later, at the hotel bar. Indeed, at first, +Mr. Gray not only refused outright to go, but seriously urged the same +course upon Jefferson; moreover, his remonstrance was offered in such +evident good faith that Bareaud, in the act of swallowing one of his +large doses of quinine, paused with only half the powder down his +throat, gazing, nonplussed, at his prospective brother-in-law. + +“My immortal soul!” he gasped. “Is this Crailey Gray? What's the +trouble?” + +“Nothing,” replied Crailey, quietly. “Only don't go, you've lost +enough.” + +“Well, you're a beautiful one!” Jefferson exclaimed, with an incredulous +laugh. “You're a master hand; you, to talk about losing enough!” + +“I know, I know,” Crailey began, shaking his head, “but--” + +“You've promised Fanchon never to go again, and you're afraid Miss Betty +will see or hear us, and tell her you were there.” + +“I don't know Miss Carewe.” + +“Then you needn't fear; besides, she'll be out when we come, and asleep +when we go. She will never know we've been in the house.” + +“That has nothing to do with it,” said Crailey, impatiently; and he was +the more earnest because he remembered the dangerous geography of +the Carewe house, which made it impossible for anyone to leave the +cupola-room except by the long hall which passed certain doors. “I will +not go, and what's more, I promised Fanchon I'd try to keep you out of +it hereafter.” + +“Lord, but we're virtuous!” laughed the incredulous Jefferson. “I'll +come for you at a quarter to nine.” + +“I will not go, I tell you.” + +Jefferson roared. “Yes, you will. You couldn't keep from it if you +tried!” And he took himself off, laughing violently, again promising to +call for Crailey on his way to the tryst, and leaving him still warmly +protesting that it would be a great folly for either of them to go. + +Crailey looked after the lad's long, thin figure with an expression as +near anger as he ever wore. “He'll go,” he said to himself. + +“And--ah, well--I'll have to risk it! I'll go with him, but only to try +and bring him away early--that is, as early as it's safe to be sure that +they are asleep downstairs. And I won't play. No, I'll not play; I'll +not play.” + +He paid his score and went out of the hotel by a side door. Some +distance up the street, Bareaud was still to be seen, lounging homeward +in the pleasant afternoon sunshine, he stopped on a corner and serenely +poured another quinine powder into himself and threw the paper to a +couple of pigs who looked up from the gutter maliciously. + +“Confound him!” said Crailey, laughing ruefully. “He makes me a +missionary--for I'll keep my word to Fanchon in that, at least! I'll +look after Jefferson tonight. Ah, I might as well be old Tom Vanrevel, +indeed!” + +Meanwhile, Mr. Carewe had taken possession of his own again. His +daughter ran to the door to meet him; she was trembling a little, and, +blushing and smiling, held out both her hands to him, so that Mrs. +Tanberry vowed this was the loveliest creature in the world, and the +kindest. + +Mr. Carewe bowed slightly, as to an acquaintance, and disregarded the +extended hands. + +At that, the blush faded from Miss Betty's cheeks; she trembled no more, +and a salutation as icy as her father's was returned to him. He bent his +heavy brows upon her, and shot a black glance her way, being, of course, +immediately enraged by her reflection of his own manner, but he did not +speak to her. + +Nor did he once address her during the evening meal, preferring to honor +Mrs. Tanberry with his conversation, to that diplomatic lady's secret +anger, but outward amusement. She cheerfully neglected to answer him +at times, having not the slightest awe of him, and turned to the girl +instead; indeed, she was only prevented from rating him soundly at his +own table by the fear that she might make the situation more difficult +for her young charge. As soon as it was possible, she made her escape +with Miss Betty, and they drove away in the twilight to pay visits of +duty, leaving Mr. Carewe frowning at his coffee on the veranda. + +When they came home, three hours later, Miss Betty noticed that a fringe +of illumination bordered each of the heavily curtained windows in the +cupola, and she uttered an exclamation, for she had never known that +room to be lighted. + +“Look!” she cried, touching Mrs. Tanberry's arm, as the horses trotted +through the gates under a drizzle of rain, “I thought the room in the +cupola was empty. It's always locked, and when I came from St. Mary's he +told me that old furniture was stored there.” + +Mrs. Tanberry was grateful for the darkness. “He may have gone there to +read,” she answered, in a queer voice. “Let us go quietly to bed, child, +so as not to disturb him.” + +Betty had as little desire to disturb her father as she had to see him; +therefore she obeyed her friend's injunction, and went to her room on +tip-toe. The house was very silent as she lit the candles on her bureau. +Outside, the gentle drizzle and the soothing tinkle from the eaves were +the only sounds; within, there was but the faint rustle of garments from +Mrs. Tanberry's room. Presently the latter ceased to be heard, and a +wooden moan of protest from the four-poster upon which the good lady +reposed, announced that she had drawn the curtains and wooed the rulers +of Nod. + +Although it was one of those nights of which they say, “It is a good +night to sleep,” Miss Betty was not drowsy. She had half-unfastened one +small sandal, but she tied the ribbons again, and seated herself by the +open window. The ledge and casement framed a dim oblong of thin light +from the candles behind her, a lonely lustre, which crossed the +veranda to melt shapelessly into darkness on the soggy lawn. She felt a +melancholy in the softly falling rain and wet, black foliage that chimed +with the sadness of her own spirit. The night suited her very well, +for her father's coming had brought a weight of depression with it. Why +could he not have spoken one word to her, even a cross one? She knew +that he did not love her, yet, merely as a fellow-being, she was +entitled to a measure of courtesy; and the fact that she was his +daughter could not excuse his failure to render it. Was she to continue +to live with him on their present terms? She had no intention to make +another effort to alter them; but to remain as they were would be +intolerable, and Mrs. Tanberry could not stay forever, to act as a +buffer between her and her father. Peering out into the dismal night, +she found her own future as black, and it seemed no wonder that the +Sisters loved the convent life; that the pale nuns forsook the world +wherein there was so much useless unkindness; where women were petty +and jealous, like that cowardly Fanchon, and men who looked great were +tricksters, like Fanchon's betrothed. Miss Betty clenched her delicate +fingers. She would not remember that white, startled face again! + +Another face helped her to shut out the recollection: that of the man +who had come to mass to meet her yesterday morning, and with whom she +had taken a long walk afterward. He had shown her a quaint old English +gardener who lived on the bank of the river, had bought her a bouquet, +and she had helped him to select another to send to a sick friend. How +beautiful the flowers were, and how happy he had made the morning for +her, with his gayety, his lightness, and his odd wisdom! Was it only +yesterday? Her father's coming had made yesterday a fortnight old. + +But the continuously pattering rain and the soft drip-drop from the +roof, though as mournful as she chose to find them, began, afterwhile, +to weave their somnolent spells, and she slowly drifted from reveries +of unhappy sorts, into half-dreams, in which she was still aware she was +awake; yet slumber, heavy-eyed, stirring from the curtains beside her +with the small night breeze, breathed strange distortions upon familiar +things, and drowsy impossibilities moved upon the surface of her +thoughts. Her chin, resting upon her hand, sank gently, until her head +almost lay upon her relaxed arms. + +“That is mine, Crailey Gray!” + +She sprang to her feet, immeasurably startled, one hand clutching the +back of her chair, the other tremulously pressed to her cheek, convinced +that her father had stooped over her and shouted the sentence in her +ear. For it was his voice, and the house rang with the words; all the +rooms, halls, and even the walls, seemed still murmurous with the +sudden sound, like the tingling of a bell after it had been struck. And +yet--everything was quiet. + +She pressed her fingers to her forehead, trying to untangle the maze of +dreams which had evolved this shock for her, the sudden clamor in her +father's voice of a name she hated and hoped never to hear again, a name +she was trying to forget. But as she was unable to trace anything which +had led to it, there remained only the conclusion that her nerves were +not what they should be. The vapors having become obsolete for young +ladies as an explanation for all unpleasant sensations, they were +instructed to have “nerves.” This was Miss Betty's first consciousness +of her own, and, desiring no greater acquaintance with them, she told +herself it was unwholesome to fall asleep in a chair by an open window +when the night was as sad as she. + +Turning to a chair in front of the small oval mirror of her bureau, she +unclasped the brooch which held her lace collar, and, seating herself, +began to unfasten her hair. Suddenly she paused, her uplifted arms +falling mechanically to her sides. + +Someone was coming through the long hall with a soft, almost inaudible +step, a step which was not her father's. She knew at once, with +instinctive certainty, that it was not he. Nor was it Nelson, who would +have shuffled; nor could it be the vain Mamie, nor one of the other +servants, for they did not sleep in the house. It was a step more like a +woman's, though certainly it was not Mrs. Tanberry's. + +Betty rose, took a candle, and stood silent for a moment, the heavy +tresses of her hair, half-unloosed, falling upon her neck and left +shoulder like the folds of a dark drapery. + +At the slight rustle of her rising, the steps ceased instantly. Her +heart set up a wild beating and the candle shook in her hand. But she +was brave and young, and, following an irresistible impulse, she ran +across the room, flung open the door, and threw the light of the candle +into the hall, holding it at arm's length before her. + +She came almost face to face with Crailey Gray. + +The blood went from his cheeks as a swallow flies down from a roof; he +started back against the opposite wall with a stifled groan, while she +stared at him blankly, and grew as deathly pale as he. + +He was a man of great resource in all emergencies which required a quick +tongue, but, for the moment, this was beyond him. He felt himself lost, +toppling backward into an abyss, and the uselessness of his destruction +made him physically sick. For he need not have been there; he had not +wished to come; he had well counted the danger to himself, and this one +time in his life had gone to the cupola-room out of good-nature. But +Bareaud had been obstinate and Crailey had come away alone, hoping that +Jefferson might follow. And here he was, poor trapped rat, convicted +and ruined because of a good action! At last he knew consistency to be +a jewel, and that a greedy boy should never give a crust; that a fool +should stick to his folly, a villain to his deviltry, and each hold his +own; for the man who thrusts a good deed into a life of lies is +wound about with perilous passes, and in his devious ways a thousand +unexpected damnations spring. + +Beaten, stunned, hang-jawed with despair, he returned her long, +dumfounded gaze hopelessly and told the truth like an inspired dunce. + +“I came--I came--to bring another man away,” he whispered brokenly; and, +at the very moment, several heavy, half-suppressed voices broke into +eager talk overhead. + +The white hand that held the candle wavered, and the shadows glided in +a huge, grotesque dance. Twice she essayed to speak before she could +do so, at the same moment motioning him back, for he had made a vague +gesture toward her. + +“I am not faint. Do you mean, away from up there?” She pointed to the +cupola-stairs. + +“Yes.” + +“Have-have you seen my father?” + +The question came out of such a depth of incredulousness that it was +more an articulation of the lips than a sound, but he caught it; and, +with it not hope, but the shadow of a shadow of hope, a hand waving from +the far shore to the swimmer who has been down twice. Did she fear for +his sake? + +“No--I have not seen him.” He was groping blindly. + +“You did not come from that” + +“How did you enter the house?” + +The draught through the hall was blowing upon him; the double doors upon +the veranda had been left open for coolness. “There,” he said, pointing +to them. + +“But--I heard you come from the other direction.” + +He was breathing quickly; he saw his chance--if Jefferson Bareaud did +not come now. + +“You did not hear me come down the stairs.” He leaned toward her, +risking it all on that. + +“Ah!” A sigh too like a gasp burst from Crailey. His head lifted a +little, and his eyes were luminous with an eagerness that was almost +anguish. He set his utmost will at work to collect himself and to think +hard and fast. + +“I came here resolved to take a man away, come what would!” he said. “I +found the door open, went to the foot of that stairway; then I stopped. +I remembered something; I turned, and was going away when you opened the +door.” + +“You remembered what?” + +Her strained attitude did not relax, nor, to his utmost scrutiny, was +the complete astonishment of her distended gaze altered one whit, but a +hint of her accustomed high color was again upon her cheek and her lip +trembled a little, like that of a child about to weep. The flicker of +hope in his breast increased prodigiously, and the rush of it took +the breath from his throat and choked him. Good God! was she going to +believe him? + +“I remembered--you!” + +“What?” she said, wonderingly. + +Art returned with a splendid bound, full-pinioned, his beautiful and +treacherous Familiar who had deserted him at the crucial instant; but +she made up for it now, folding him in protective wings and breathing +through his spirit. In rapid and vehement whispers he poured out the +words upon the girl in the doorway. + +“I have a friend, and I would lay down my life to make him what he could +be. He has always thrown everything away, his life, his talents, all his +money and all of mine, for the sake of--throwing them away! Some other +must tell you about that room; but it has ruined my friend. Tonight I +discovered that he had been summoned here, and I made up my mind to come +and take him away. Your father has sworn to shoot me if I set foot in +his house or on ground of his. Well, my duty was clear and I came to +do it. And yet--I stopped at the foot of the stair--because--because +I remembered that you were Robert Carewe's daughter. What of you, if I +went up and harm came to me from your father? For I swear I would not +have touched him! You asked me not to speak of 'personal' things, and I +have obeyed you; but you see I must tell you one thing now: I have +cared for this friend of mine more than for all else under heaven, but I +turned and left him to his ruin, and would a thousand times, rather than +bring trouble upon you! 'A thousand times?' Ah! I swear it should be a +thousand times a thousand!” + +He had paraded in one speech from the prisoner's dock to Capulet's +garden, and her eyes were shining into his like a great light when he +finished. + +“Go quickly,” she whispered. “Go quickly! Go quickly!” + +“But do you understand?” + +“Not yet, but I shall. Will you go? They might come-my father might +come-at any moment.” + +“But---” + +“Do you want to drive me quite mad? Please go!” She laid a trembling, +urgent hand upon his sleeve. + +“Never, until you tell me that you understand,” replied Crailey firmly, +listening keenly for the slightest sound from overhead. “Never--until +then!” + +“When I do I shall tell you; now I only know that you must go.” + +“But tell me--” + +“You must go!” + +There was a shuffling of chairs on the floor overhead, and Crailey +went. He went even more hastily than might have been expected from the +adaman-tine attitude he had just previously assumed. Realizing this as +he reached the wet path, he risked stealing round to her window: + +“For your sake!” he breathed; and having thus forestalled any trifling +imperfection which might arise in her recollection of his exit from the +house, he disappeared, kissing his hand to the rain as he ran down the +street. + +Miss Betty locked her door and pulled close the curtains of her window. +A numerous but careful sound of footsteps came from the hall, went by +her door and out across the veranda. Silently she waited until she heard +her father go alone to his room. + +She took the candle and went in to Mrs. Tanberry. She set the light upon +a table, pulled a chair close to the bedside, and placed her cool hand +lightly on the great lady's forehead. + +“Isn't it very late, child? Why are you not asleep?” + +“Mrs. Tanberry, I want to know why there was a light in the cupola-room +tonight?” + +“What?” Mrs. Tanberry rolled herself as upright as possible, and sat +with blinking eyes. + +“I want to know what I am sure you know, and what I am sure everybody +knows, except me. What were they doing there tonight, and what was +the quarrel between Mr. Vanrevel and my father that had to do with Mr. +Gray?” + +Mrs. Tanberry gazed earnestly into the girl's face. After a long time +she said in a gentle voice: + +“Child, has it come to matter that much?” + +“Yes,” said Miss Betty. + + + +CHAPTER XIII. The Tocsin + +Tom Vanrevel always went to the post-office soon after the morning +distribution of the mail; that is to say, about ten o'clock, and +returned with the letters for the firm of Gray and Vanrevel, both +personal and official. Crailey and he shared everything, even a box at +the post-office; and in front of this box, one morning, after a night of +rain, Tom stood staring at a white envelope bearing a small, black seal. +The address was in a writing he had never seen before, but the instant +it fell under his eye he was struck with a distinctly pleasurable +excitement. + +Whether through some spiritual exhalation of the writer fragrant on +any missive, or because of a hundred microscopic impressions, there are +analysts who are able to select, from a pile of letters written by women +(for the writing of women exhibits certain phenomena more determinably +than that of men) those of the prettiest or otherwise most attractive. +And out upon the lover who does not recognize his mistress's hand at the +first glimpse ever he has of it, without post-mark or other information +to aid him! Thus Vanrevel, worn, hollow-eyed, and sallow, in the Rouen +post-office, held the one letter separate from a dozen (the latter not, +indeed, from women), and stared at it until a little color came back +to his dark skin and a great deal of brightness to his eye. He was no +analyst of handwritings, yet it came to him instantly that this note +was from a pretty woman. To see that it was from a woman was simple, +but that he knew--and he did know--that she was pretty, savors of the +occult. More than this: there was something about it that thrilled +him. Suddenly, and without reason, he knew that it came from Elizabeth +Carewe. + +He walked back quickly to his office with the letter in the left pocket +of his coat, threw the bundle of general correspondence upon his desk, +went up to the floor above, and paused at his own door to listen. Deep +breathing from across the hall indicated that Mr. Gray's soul was +still encased in slumber, and great was its need, as Tom had found his +partner, that morning at five, stretched upon the horsehair sofa in the +office, lamenting the emptiness of a bottle which had been filled with +fiery Bourbon in the afternoon. + +Vanrevel went to his own room, locked the door, and took the letter from +his pocket. He held it between his fingers carefully, as though it were +alive and very fragile, and he looked at it a long time, holding it +first in one hand, then in the other, before he opened it. At last, +however, after examining all the blades of his pocketknife, he selected +one brighter than the others, and loosened the flap of the envelope as +gently and carefully as if it had been the petal of a rose-bud that he +was opening. + + +“Dear Mr. Vanrevel: + +“I believed you last night, though I did not understand. But I +understand, now--everything--and, bitter to me as the truth is, I must +show you plainly that I know all of it, nor can I rest until I do show +you. I want you to answer this letter--though I must not see you again +for a long time--and in your answer you must set me right if I am +anywhere mistaken in what I have learned. + +“At first, and until after the second time we met, I did not believe in +your heart, though I did in your mind and humor. Even since then, there +have come strange, small, inexplicable mistrustings of you, but now +I throw them all away and trust you wholly, Monsieur Citizen Georges +Meilbac!--I shall always think of you in those impossible garnishments +of my poor great-uncle, and I persuade myself that he must have been a +little like you. + +“I trust you because I have heard the story of your profound goodness. +The first reason for my father's dislike was your belief in freedom +as the right of all men. Ah, it is not your pretty exaggerations and +flatteries (I laugh at them!) that speak for you, but your career, +itself, and the brave things you have done. My father's dislike flared +into hatred because you worsted him when he discovered that he could +not successfully defend the wrong against you and fell back upon sheer +insult. + +“He is a man whom I do not know--strange as that seems as I write it. +It is only to you, who have taught me so much, that I could write it. I +have tried to know him and to realize that I am his daughter, but we are +the coldest acquaintances, that is all; and I cannot see how a change +could come. I do not understand him; least of all do I understand why he +is a gambler. It has been explained to me that it is his great passion, +but all I comprehend in these words is that they are full of shame for +his daughter. + +“This is what was told me: he has always played heavily and +skillfully--adding much to his estate in that way--and in Rouen always +with a certain coterie, which was joined, several years ago, by the man +you came to save last night. + +“Your devotion to Mr. Gray has been the most beautiful thing in your +life. I know all that the town knows of that, except the thousand hidden +sacrifices you have made for him, those things which no one will ever +know. (And yet, you see, I know them after all!) For your sake, because +you love him, I will not even call him unworthy. + +“I have heard--from one who told unwillingly--the story of the night two +years ago, when the play ran so terribly high; and how, in the morning +when they went away, all were poorer except one, their host!--how Mr. +Gray had nothing left in the world, and owed my father a great sum which +was to be paid in twenty-four hours; how you took everything you had +saved in the years of hard work at your profession, and borrowed the +rest on your word, and brought it to my father that afternoon; how, when +you had paid your friend's debt, you asked my father not to play +with Mr. Gray again; and my father made that his excuse to send you a +challenge. You laughed at the challenge--and you could afford to laugh +at it. + +“But this is all shame, shame for Robert Carewe's daughter. It seems to +me that I should hide and not lift my head; that I, being of my father's +blood, could never look you in the face again. It is so unspeakably +painful and ugly. I think of my father's stiff pride and his look of +the eagle,--and he still plays with your friend, almost always +'successfully!' And your friend still comes to play!--but I will not +speak of that side of it. + +“Mr. Gray has made you poor, but I know it was not that which made you +come seeking him last night, when I found you there in the hail. It was +for his sake you came--and you went away for mine. Now that I know, at +last--now that I have heard what your life has been (and oh I heard so +much more than I have written!)--now that my eyes have been opened to +see you as you are, I am proud, and glad and humble that I can believe +that you felt a friendship for me strong enough to have made you go +'for my sake.' You will write to me just once, won't you? and tell me if +there was any error in what I listened to; but you must not come to the +garden. Now that I know you, I cannot meet you clandestinely again. +It would hurt the dignity which I feel in you now, and my own poor +dignity--such as it is! I have been earnestly warned of the danger +to you. Besides, you must let me test myself. I am all fluttering and +frightened and excited. You will obey me, won't you?--do not come until +I send for you. Elizabeth Carewe.” + +Mr. Gray, occupied with his toilet about noon, heard his partner +descending to the office with a heavy step, and issued from his room to +call a hearty greeting. Tom looked back over his shoulder and replied +cheerily, though with a certain embarrassment; but Crailey, catching +sight of his face, uttered a sharp ejaculation and came down to him. + +“Why, what's the matter, Tom? You're not going to be sick? You look like +the devil and all!” + +“I'm all right, never fear!” Tom laughed, evading the other's eye. “I'm +going out in the country on some business, and I dare say I shall not +be back for a couple of days; it will be all up and down the county.” + He set down a travelling-bag he was carrying, and offered the other his +hand. “Good-by.” + +“Can't I go for you? You don't look able.” + +“No, no. It's something I'll have to attend to myself.” + +“Ah, I suppose,” said Crailey, gently, “I suppose it's important, and +you couldn't trust me to handle it. Well--God knows you're right! I've +shown you often enough how incompetent I am to do anything but write +jingles!” + +“You do some more of them--without the whiskey, Crailey. They're worth +more than all the lawing Gray and Vanrevel have ever done or ever will +do. Good-by---and be kind to yourself.” + +He descended to the first landing, and then, “Oh, Crailey,” he called, +with the air of having forgotten something he had meant to say. + +“Yes, Tom?” + +“This morning at the post-office I found a letter addressed to me. I +opened it and--” He hesitated, and uneasily shifted his weight from one +foot to the other, with a feeble, deprecatory laugh. + +“Yes, what of it?” + +“Well--there seemed to be a mistake. I think it must have been meant for +you. Somehow, she--she's picked up a good many wrong impressions, and, +Lord knows how, but she's mixed our names up and--and I've left the +letter for you. It's on my table.” + +He turned and calling a final good-by over his shoulder, went clattering +noisily down to the street and vanished from Crailey's sight. + +Noon found Tom far out on the National Road, creaking along over the +yellow dust in a light wagon, between bordering forests that smelt +spicily of wet underbrush and May-apples; and, here and there, when they +would emerge from the woods to cleared fields, liberally outlined by +long snake-fences of black walnut, the steady, jog-trotting old horse +lifted his head and looked interested in the world, but Tom never did +either. Habitually upright, walking or sitting, straight, keen, and +alert, that day's sun saw him drearily hunched over, mile after mile, +his forehead laced with lines of pain. He stopped at every farm-house +and cabin, and, where the young men worked in the fields, hailed them +from the road, or hitched his horse to the fence and crossed the soft +furrows to talk with them. At such times he stood erect again, and spoke +stirringly, finding eager listeners. There was one question they asked +him over and over: + +“But are you sure the call will come?” + +“As sure as that we stand here; and it will come before the week is out. +We must be ready!” + +Often, when he left them, they would turn from the work in hand, leaving +it as it was, to lie unfinished in the fields, and make their way slowly +and thoughtfully to their homes, while Tom climbed into his creaking +little wagon once more, only to fall into the same dull, hunched-over +attitude. He had many things to think out before he faced Rouen and +Crailey Gray again, and more to fight through to the end with himself. +Three days he took for it, three days driving through the soft May +weather behind the kind, old jog-trotting horse; three days on the road, +from farm-house to farm-house and from field to field, from cabin of +the woods to cabin in the clearing. Tossing unhappily at night, he +lay sleepless till dawn, though not because of the hard beds; and when +daylight came, journeyed steadily on again, over the vagabond little +hills that had gypsied it so far into the prairie-land in their +wanderings from their range on the Ohio, and, passing the hills, went +on through the flat forest-land, always hunched over dismally in the +creaking wagon. + +But on the evening of the third day he drove into town, with the stoop +out of his shoulders and the lustre back in his eyes. He was haggard, +gray, dusty, but he had solved his puzzle, and one thing was clear in +his mind as the thing that he would do. He patted the old horse a hearty +farewell as he left him with the liveryman from whom he had hired him, +and strode up Main Street with the air of a man who is going somewhere. +It was late, but there were more lights than usual in the windows and +more people on the streets. Boys ran shouting, while, here and there, +knots of men argued loudly, and in front of the little corner drug-store +a noisily talkative, widely gesticulative crowd of fifty or more had +gathered. An old man, a cobbler, who had left a leg at Tippecanoe and +replaced it with a wooden one, chastely decorated with designs of his +own carving, came stumping excitedly down the middle of the street, +where he walked for fear of the cracks in the wooden pavement, which +were dangerous to his art-leg when he came from the Rouen House bar, as +on the present occasion. He hailed Tom by name. + +“You're the lad, Tom Vanrevel,” he shouted. “You're the man to lead +the boys out for the glory of the State! You git the whole blame Fire +De-partment out and enlist 'em before morning! Take 'em down to the Rio +Grande, you hear me? + +“And you needn't be afraid of their puttin' it out, if it ketches afire, +neither!” + +Tom waved his hand and passed on; but at the open doors of the +Catholic Church he stopped and looked up and down the street, and then, +unnoticed, entered to the dim interior, where the few candles showed +only a bent old woman in black kneeling at the altar. Tom knew where +Elizabeth Carewe knelt each morning; he stepped softly through the +shadowy silence to her place, knelt, and rested his head upon the rail +of the bench before him. + +The figure at the altar raised itself after a time, and the old woman +limped slowly up a side aisle, mumbling her formulas, courtesying to the +painted saints, on her way out. The very thinnest lingerings of incense +hung on the air, seeming to Tom like the faint odor that might exhale +from a heavy wreath of marguerites, worn in dark-brown hair. Yet, the +place held nothing but peace and good-will. And he found nothing else +in his own heart. The street was quiet when he emerged from that lorn +vigil; the corner groups had dissolved; shouting youths no longer +patrolled the sidewalks. Only one quarter showed signs of life: the +little clubhouse, where the windows still shown brightly, and whence +came the sound of many voices settling the destinies of the United +States of America. Thither Tom bent his steps, thoughtfully, and with a +quiet mind. There was a small veranda at the side of the house; here he +stood unobserved to look in upon his noisy and agitated friends. + +They were all there, from the old General and Mr. Bareaud, to the +latter's son, Jefferson, and young Frank Chenoweth. They were gathered +about a big table upon which stood a punch-bowl and Trumble, his brow +as angry red as the liquor in the cup he held, was proposing a health to +the President in a voice of fury. + +“In spite of all the Crailey Grays and traitors this side of hell!” he +finished politely. + +Crailey emerged instantaneously from the general throng and mounted a +chair, tossing his light hair back from his forehead, his eyes sparkling +and happy. “You find your own friends already occupying the place you +mentioned, do you, General?” he asked. + +General Trumble stamped and shook his fist. + +“You're a spawn of Aaron Burr!” he vociferated. “There's not a man here +to stand by your infernal doctrines. You sneer at your own State, you +sneer at your own country, you defile the sacred ground! What are +you, by the Almighty, who attack your native land in this, her hour of +peril!” + +“Peril to my native land!” laughed Crailey. “From Santa Anna?” + +“The General's right, sir,” exclaimed the elder Chenoweth indignantly, +and most of the listeners appeared to agree with him. “It's a poor time +to abuse the President when he's called for volunteers and our country +is in danger, sir!” + +“Who is in danger?” answered Crailey, lifting his hand to still the +clamor of approbation that arose. “Is Polk in danger? Or Congress? But +that would be too much to hope! Do you expect to see the Greasers in +Washington? No, you idiots, you don't! Yet there'll be plenty of men to +suffer and die; and the first should be those who thrust this war on +us and poor little Mexico; but it won't be they; the men who'll do the +fighting and dying will be the country boys and the like of us from the +towns, while Mr. Polk sits planning at the White House how he can get +elected again. I wish Tom were here, confound you! You listen to him +because he always has the facts and I'm just an embroiderer, you think. +What's become of the gaudy campaign cry you were all wearing your +lungs out with a few months ago? 'Fifty-four-forty or fight!' Bah! Polk +twisted the lion's tail with that until after election. Then he saw he +had to make you forget it, or fight England and be ruined, so he forces +war on Mexico, and the country does forget it. That's it: he asks three +regiments of volunteers from this State to die of fevers and get shot, +so that he can steal another country and make his own elect him again. +And you ask me to drink the health of the politician who sits at home +and sends his fellowmen to die to fix his rotten jobs for him?” Crailey +had persuaded himself into such earnestness, that the depth of his own +feeling almost choked him, but he finished roundly in his beautiful, +strong voice: “I'll drink for the good punch's sake--but that +health?--I'll see General Trumble in heaven before I'll drink it!” + +There rose at once a roar of anger and disapproval, and Crailey became a +mere storm centre amid the upraised hands gestulating madly at him as he +stood, smiling again, upon his chair. + +“This comes of living with Tom Vanrevel!” shouted the General furiously. +“This is his damned Abolition teaching! You're only his echo; you spend +half your life playing at being Vanrevel!” + +“Where is Vanrevel?” said Tappingham Marsh. + +“Ay, where is he!” raged Trumble, hammering the table till the glasses +rang. “Let him come and answer for his own teaching; it's wasted time to +talk to this one; he's only the pupil. Where is the traitor?” + +“Here,” answered a voice from the doorway; and though the word was +spoken quietly it was nevertheless, at that juncture, silencing. +Everyone turned toward the door as Vanrevel entered. But the apoplectic +General, whom Crailey's speech had stirred to a fury beyond control, +almost leaped at Tom's throat. + +“Here's the tea-sipping old Granny,” he bellowed hoarsely. (He was +ordinarily very fond of Tom.) “Here's the master! Here's the man whose +example teaches Crailey Gray to throw mud at the flag. He'll stay here +at home with Crailey, of course, and throw more, while the others boys +march out to die under it.” + +“On the contrary,” answered Tom, raising his voice, “I think you'll find +Crailey Gray the first to enlist, and as for myself, I've raised sixty +men in the country, and I want forty more from Rouen, in order to offer +the Governor a full company. So it's come to 'the King, not the man'; +Polk is a pitiful trickster, but the country needs her sons; that's +enough for us to know; and while I won't drink to James Polk “--he +plunged a cup in the bowl and drew it out brimming--“I'll empty this to +the President!” + +It was then that from fifty throats the long, wild shout went up that +stirred Rouen, and woke the people from their midnight beds for half a +mile around. + + + +CHAPTER XIV. The Firm of Gray and Vanrevel + +For the first time it was Crailey who sat waiting for Tom to come +home. In a chair drawn to his partner's desk in the dusty office, he +half-reclined, arms on the desk, his chin on his clenched fists. To +redeem the gloom he had lit a single candle, which painted him dimly +against the complete darkness of his own shadow, like a very old +portrait whose background time has solidified into shapeless browns; the +portrait of a fair-haired gentleman, the cavalier, or the Marquis, one +might have said at first glance; not describing it immediately as that +of a poet, for there was no mark of art upon Crailey, not even in his +hair, for they all wore it rather long then. Yet there was a mark upon +him, never more vivid than as he sat waiting in the loneliness of +that night for Tom Vanrevel; though what the mark was and what its +significance might have been puzzling to define. Perhaps, after all, +Fanchon Bareaud had described it best when she told Crailey one day, +with a sudden hint of apprehensive tears, that he had a “look of fate.” + +Tom took his own time in coming; he had stayed at the club to go over +his lists--so he had told Crailey--with the General and old Bareaud. +His company was almost complete, and Crailey had been the first to +volunteer, to the dumfounding of Trumble, who had proceeded to drink his +health again and again. But the lists could not detain Tom two hours, +Crailey knew, and it was two hours since the new volunteers had sung +“The Star Spangled Banner” over the last of the punch, and had left the +club to Tom and the two old men. Only once or twice in that time had +Crailey shifted his position, or altered the direction of his set gaze +at nothing. But at last he rose, went to the window and, leaning far +out, looked down the street toward the little clubhouse. Its lights were +extinguished and all was dark up and down the street. Abruptly Crailey +went back to the desk and blew out the candle, after which he sat down +again in the same position. Twenty minutes later he heard Tom's step on +the stair, coming up very softly. Crailey waited in silence until his +partner reached the landing, then relit the candle. + +“Tom,” he called. “Come in, please, I've been waiting for you.” + +There was a pause before Tom answered from the hall: + +“I'm very tired, Crailey. I think I'll go up to bed.” + +“No,” said Crailey, “come in.” + +The door was already open, but Tom turned toward it reluctantly. He +stopped at the threshold and the two looked at each other. + +“I thought you wouldn't come as long as you believed I was up,” said +Crailey, “so I blew out the light. I'm sorry I kept you outside so +long.” + +“Crailey, I'm going away to-morrow,” the other began. “I am to go over +and see the Governor and offer him this company, and to-night I need +sleep, so please--” + +“No,” interrupted Crailey quietly, “I want to know what you're going +to do.” + +“To do about what?” + +“About me.” + +“Oh!” Tom's eyes fell at once from his friend's face and rested upon +the floor. Slowly he walked to the desk and stood in embarrassed +contemplation of the littered books and papers, while the other waited. + +“I think it's best for you to tell me,” said Crailey. + +“You think so?” Tom's embarrassment increased visibly, and there was +mingled with it an odd appearance of apprehension, probably to relieve +which he very deliberately took two long cheroots from his pocket, laid +one on the desk for Crailey and lit the other himself, with extreme +carefulness, at the candle. After this ceremonial he dragged a chair to +the window, tilted back in it with his feet on the low sill, his back to +the thin light and his friend, and said in a slow, gentle tone: “Well, +Crailey?” + +“I suppose you mean that I ought to offer my explanation first,” said +the other, still standing. “Well, there isn't any.” He did not speak +doggedly or sullenly, as one in fault, but more with the air of a man +curiously ready to throw all possible light upon a cloudy phenomenon. +“It's very simple--all that I know about it. I went there first on the +evening of the Madrillon masquerade and played a little comedy for +her, so that some of my theatrical allusions--they weren't very +illuminating!--to my engagement to Fanchon, made her believe I was +Vanrevel when her father told her about the pair of us. I discovered +that the night his warehouses burned--and I saw something more, because +I can't help seeing such things: that yours was just the character to +appeal to a young girl fresh from the convent and full of honesty and +fine dreams and fire. Nobody could arrange a more fatal fascination for +a girl of nineteen than to have a deadly quarrel with her father. And +that's especially true when the father's like that mad brute of a Bob +Carewe! Then, too, you're more or less the town model of virtue and +popular hero, in spite of the Abolitionism, just as I am the town scamp. +So I let it go on, and played a little at being you, saying the things +that you only think--that was all. It isn't strange that it's lasted +until now, not more than three weeks, after all. She's only seen you +four or five times, and me not much oftener. No one speaks of you to +her, and I've kept out of sight when others were about. Mrs. Tanberry is +her only close friend, and, naturally, wouldn't be apt to mention that +you are dark and I am fair, or to describe us personally, any more than +you and I would mention the general appearance of people we both meet +about town. But you needn't tell me that it can't last much longer. Some +petty, unexpected trifle will turn up, of course. All that I want to +know is what you mean to do.” + +“To do?” repeated Tom softly, and blew a long scarf of smoke out of the +window. + +“Ah!” Crailey's voice grew sharp and loud. “There are many things you +needn't tell me! You need not tell me what I've done to you--nor what +you think of me! You need not tell me that you have others to consider, +that you have Miss Carewe to think of. Don't you suppose I know that? +And you need not tell me that you have a duty to Fanchon--” + +“Yes,” Tom broke in, his tone not quite steady. “Yes, I've thought of +that.” + +“Well?” + +“Have you--did you--” he hesitated, but Crailey understood immediately. + +“No; I haven't seen her again.” + +“But you--” + +“Yes--I wrote. I answered the letter.” + +“As-” + +“Yes; I signed your name. I told you that I had just let things go on,” + Crailey answered, with an impatient movement of his hands. “What are you +going to do?” + +“I'm going over to see the Governor in the morning. I'll be away two or +three days, I imagine.” + +“Vanrevel!” exclaimed Crailey hotly, “Will you give me an answer and +not beat about the bush any longer? Or do you mean that you refuse to +answer?” + +Tom dropped his cigar upon the brick window-ledge with an abysmal sigh. +“Oh, no, it isn't that,” he answered mildly “I've been thinking it all +over for three days in the country, and when I got back tonight I found +that I had come to a decision without knowing it, and that I had come to +it even before I started; my leaving the letter for you proved it. It's +a little like this Mexican war, a mixed-up problem and only one thing +clear. A few schemers have led the country into it to increase the +slave-power and make us forget that we threatened England when we +couldn't carry out the threat. And yet, if you look at it broadly, these +are the smaller things and they do not last. The means by which the +country grows may be wrong, but its growth is right; it is only destiny, +working out through lies and blood, but the end will be good. It is +bound to happen and you can't stop it. I believe the men who make this +war for their own uses will suffer in hell-fire for it; but it is made, +and there's only one thing I can see as the thing for me to do. +They've called me every name on earth--and the same with you, too, +Crailey--because I'm an Abolitionist, but now, whether the country has +sinned or not, a good many thousand men have got to do the bleeding for +her, and I want to be one of them. That's the one thing that is plain to +me.” + +“Yes,” returned Crailey. “You know I'm with you; and I think you're +always right. Yes; we'll all be on the way in a fortnight or so. Do you +mean you won't quarrel with me because of that? Do you mean it would be +a poor time now, when we're all going out to take our chances together?” + +“Quarrel with you!” Tom rose and came to the desk, looking across it at +his friend. “Did you think I might do that?” + +“Yes--I thought so.” + +“Crailey!” And now Tom's expression showed desperation; it was that of +a man whose apprehensions have culminated and who is forced to face a +crisis long expected, long averted, but imminent at last. His eyes fell +from Crailey's clear gaze and his hand fidgeted among the papers on the +desk. + +“No,” he began with a painful lameness and hesitation. “I did not +mean it--no; I meant, that, in the same way, only one thing in +this other--this other affair that seems so confused and is such +a problem--only one thing has grown clear. It doesn't seem to me +that--that--” here he drew a deep breath, before he went on with +increasing nervousness--“that if you like a man and have lived with him +a good many years; that is to say, if you're really much of a friend to +him, I don't believe you sit on a high seat and judge him. Judging, and +all that, haven't much part in it. And it seems to me that you've got +yourself into a pretty bad mix-up, Crailey.” + +“Yes,” said Crailey. “It's pretty bad.” + +“Well,” Tom looked up now, with an almost tremulous smile, “I believe +that is about all I can make of it. Do you think it's the part of your +best friend to expose you? It seems to me that if there ever was a time +when I ought to stand by you, it's now.” + +There was a silence while they looked at each other across the desk in +the faint light. Tom's eye fell again as Crailey opened his lips. + +“And in spite of everything,” Crailey said breathlessly, “you mean that +you won't tell?” + +“How could I, Crailey?” said Tom Vanrevel as he turned away. + + + +CHAPTER XV. When June Came + +“Methought I met a Damsel Fair And tears were in her eyes; Her head and +arms were bare, I heard her bursting sighs. + +“I stopp'd and looked her in the face, 'Twas then she sweetly smiled. +Her features shone with mournful grace, Far more than Nature's child. + +“With diffident and downcast eye, In modest tones she spoke; She wiped a +tear and gave a sigh, And then her silence broke--” + +So sang Mrs. Tanberry at the piano, relieving the melancholy which +possessed her; but Nelson, pausing in the hail to listen, and +exceedingly curious concerning the promised utterance of the Damsel +Fair, was to suffer disappointment, as the ballad was broken off +abruptly and the songstress closed the piano with a monstrous clatter. +Little doubt may be entertained that the noise was designed to disturb +Mr. Carewe, who sat upon the veranda consulting a brown Principe, and +less that the intended insult was accomplished. For an expression of +a vindictive nature was precipitated in that quarter so simultaneously +that the bang of the piano-lid and the curse were even as the report of +a musket and the immediate cry of the wounded. + +Mrs. Tanberry at once debouched upon the piazza, showing a vast, clouded +countenance. “And I hope to heaven you already had a headache!” she +exclaimed. + +“The courtesy of your wish, madam,” Carewe replied, with an angry flash +of his eye, “is only equaled by the kindness of heaven in answering it. +I have, in fact, a headache. I always have, nowadays.” + +“That's good news,” returned the lady heartily. + +“I thank you,” retorted her host. + +“Perhaps if you treated your daughter even a decent Indian's kind of +politeness, you'd enjoy better health.” + +“Ah! And in what failure to perform my duty toward her have I incurred +your displeasure?” + +“Where is she now?” exclaimed the other excitably. “Where is she now?” + +“I cannot say.” + +“Yes, you can, Robert Carewe!” Mrs. Tanberry retorted, with a wrathful +gesture. “You know well enough she's in her own room, and so do I--for +I tried to get in to comfort her when I heard her crying. She's in there +with the door bolted, where you drove her!” + +“I drove her!” he sneered. + +“Yes, you did, and I heard you. Do you think I couldn't hear you raging +and storming at her like a crazy man? When you get in a temper do you +dream there's a soul in the neighborhood who doesn't know it? You're a +fool if you do, because they could have heard you swearing down on Main +Street, if they'd listened. What are you trying to do to her?--break +her spirit?--or what? Because you'll do it, or kill her. I never heard +anybody cry so heart-brokenly.” Here the good woman's own eyes filled. +“What's the use of pretending?” she went on sorrowfully. “You haven't +spoken to her kindly since you came home. Do you suppose I'm blind to +that? You weren't a bad husband to the poor child's mother; why can't +you be a good father to her?” + +“Perhaps you might begin by asking her to be a good daughter to me.” + +“What has she done?” + +“The night before I went away she ran to a fire and behaved there like a +common street hoyden. The ladies of the Carewe family have not formerly +acquired a notoriety of that kind.” + +“Bah!” said Mrs. Tanberry. + +“The next morning, when I taxed her with it, she dutifully defied and +insulted me.” + +“I can imagine the delicacy with which you 'taxed' her. What has that to +do with your devilish tantrums of this afternoon, Robert Carewe?” + +“I am obliged to you for the expression,” he returned. “When I came +home, this afternoon, I found her reading that thing.” He pointed +to many very small fragments of Mr. Cummings's newspaper, which were +scattered about the lawn near the veranda. “She was out here, reading +an article which I had read downtown and which appeared in a special +edition of that rotten sheet, sent out two hours ago.” + +“Well?” + +“Do you know what that article was, madam, do you know what it was?” + Although breathing heavily, Mr. Carewe had compelled himself to a +certain outward calmness, but now, in the uncontrollable agitation of +his anger, he sprang to his feet and struck one of the wooden pillars of +the porch a shocking blow with the bare knuckles of his clenched hand. +“Do you know what it was? It was a eulogy of that damned Vanrevel! It +pretended to be an account of the enrollment of his infernal company, +but it was nothing more than a glorification of that nigger-loving +hound! His company--a lot of sneaks, who'll run like sheep from the +first Greaser--elected him captain yesterday, and today he received +an appointment as major! It dries the blood in my veins to think of +it!--that black dog a major! Good God! am I never to hear the last of +him? Cummings wrote it, the fool, the lying, fawning, slobbering fool; +he ought to be shot for it! Neither he nor his paper ever enter my +doors again! And I took the dirty sheet from her hands and tore it to +pieces--” + +“Yes,” interposed Mrs. Tanberry, “it looks as if you had done it with +your teeth.” + +“--And stamped it into the ground!” + +“Oh, I heard you!” she said. + +Carewe came close to her, and gave her a long look from such bitter eyes +that her own fell before them. “If you've been treacherous to me, Jane +Tanberry,” he said, “then God punish you! If they've met--my daughter +and that man--while I was away, it is on your head. I don't ask you, +because I believe if you knew anything you'd lie for her sake. But I +tell you that as she read that paper, she did not hear my step on the +walk nor know that I was there until I leaned over her shoulder. And I +swear that I suspect her.” + +He turned and walked to the door, while the indomitable Mrs. Tanberry, +silenced for once, sank into the chair he had vacated. Before he +disappeared within the house, he paused. + +“If Mr. Vanrevel has met my daughter,” he said, in a thick voice, +stretching out both hands in a strange, menacing gesture toward the town +that lay darkling in the growing dusk, “if he has addressed one word +to her, or so much as allowed his eyes to rest on her overlong, let him +take care of himself!” + +“Oh, Robert, Robert,” Mrs. Tanberry cried, in a frightened whisper to +herself, “all the fun and brightness went out of the world when you came +home!” + +For, in truth, the gayety and light-heartedness which, during the great +lady's too brief reign, had seemed a vital adjunct of the house to make +the place resound with music and laughter, were now departed. No more +did Mrs. Tanberry extemporize Dan Tuckers, mazourkas, or quadrilles +in the ball-room, nor Blind-Man's Buff in the library; no more did +serenaders nightly seek the garden with instrumental plunkings and vocal +gifts of harmony. Even the green bronze boy of the fountain seemed to +share the timidity of the other youths of the town where Mr. Carewe was +concerned, for the goblet he held aloft no longer sent a lively stream +leaping into the sunshine in translucent gambols, but dribbled and +dripped upon him like a morbid autumn rain. The depression of the place +was like a drape of mourning purple; but not that house alone lay glum, +and there were other reasons than the return of Robert Carewe why Rouen +had lost the joy and mirth that belonged to it. Nay, the merry town +had changed beyond all credence; it was hushed like a sick-room, and +dolefully murmurous with forebodings of farewell and sorrow. + +For all the very flower of Rouen's youth had promised to follow Tom +Vanrevel on the long and arduous journey to Mexico, to march burning +miles under the tropical sun, to face strange fevers and the guns of +Santa Anna. + +Few were the houses of the more pretentious sort that did not mourn, in +prospect, the going of son, or brother, or close friend; mothers already +wept not in secret, fathers talked with husky bravado; and everyone was +very kind to those who were to go, speaking to them gently and bringing +them little foolish presents. Nor could the hearts of girls now +longer mask as blocks of ice to the prospective conquistadores; +Eugene Madrillon's young brother, Jean, after a two years' +Beatrice-and-Benedict wooing of Trixie Chenoweth (that notable spitfire) +announced his engagement upon the day after his enlistment, and +recounted to all who would listen how his termagant fell upon his neck +in tears when she heard the news. “And now she cries about me all the +time,” finished the frank Jean blithely. + +But there was little spirit for the old merriments: there were no more +carpet-dances at the Bareauds', no masquerades at the Madrillons', no +picnics in the woods nor excursions on the river; and no more did light +feet bear light hearts through the “mazes of the intricate schottische, +the subtle mazourka, or the stately quadrille,” as Will Cummings +remarked in the Journal. Fanchon, Virginia, and five or six others, +spent their afternoons mournfully, and yet proudly, sewing and cutting +large pieces of colored silk, fashioning a great flag for their +sweethearts and brothers to bear southward and plant where stood the +palace of the Montezumas. + +That was sad work for Fanchon, though it was not for her brother's sake +that she wept, since, as everyone knew, Jefferson was already so full +of malaria and quinine that the fevers of the South and Mexico must find +him invulnerable, and even his mother believed he would only thrive +and grow hearty on his soldiering. But about Crailey, Fanchon had a +presentiment more vivid than any born of the natural fears for his +safety; it came to her again and again, reappearing in her dreams; she +shivered and started often as she worked on the flag, then bent her +fair head low over the gay silks, while the others glanced at her +sympathetically. She had come to feel quite sure that Crailey was to be +shot. + +“But I've dreamed it--dreamed it six!” she cried, when he laughed, +at her and tried to cheer her. “And it comes to me in the day-time +as though I saw it with my eyes: the picture of you in an officer's +uniform, lying on the fresh, green grass, and a red stain just below the +throat.” + +“That shows what dreams are made of, dear lady,” he smiled. “We'll find +little green grass in Mexico, and I'm only a corporal; so where's the +officer's uniform?” + +Then Fanchon wept the more, and put her arms about him, while it seemed +to her that she must cling to him so forever and thus withhold him from +fulfilling her vision, and that the gentle pressure of her arms must +somehow preserve him to life and to her. “Ah, you can't go, darling,” + she sobbed, while he petted her and tried to soothe her. “You can't +leave me! You belong to me! They can't, can't, can't take you away from +me!” + +And when the flag was completed, save for sewing the stars upon the blue +ground, she took it away from the others and insisted upon finishing +the work herself. To her own room she carried it, and each of the white +stars that the young men of Rouen were to follow in the struggle that +would add so many others to the constellation, was jewelled with her +tears and kissed by her lips as it took its place with its brothers. +Never were neater stitches taken, for, with every atom of her body +yearning to receive the shot that was destined for Crailey, this quiet +sewing was all that she could do! She would have followed him, to hold a +parasol over him under the dangerous sun, to cook his meals properly, +to watch over him with medicines and blankets and a fan; she would have +followed barefoot and bareheaded, and yet, her heart breaking with the +crucial yearning to mother him and protect him, this was all that she +could for him, this small stitching at the flag he had promised to +follow. + +When the work was quite finished, she went all over it again with +double thread, not facing the superstition of her motive, which was to +safeguard her lover: the bullet that was destined for Crailey might, in +the myriad chances, strike the flag first and be deflected, though never +so slightly, by one of these last stitches, and Crailey's heart thus +missed by the same margin. It was at this juncture, when the weeping +of women was plentiful, when old men pulled long faces, and the very +urchins of the street observed periods of gravity and even silence, that +a notion entered the head of Mrs. Tanberry--young Janie Tanberry--to the +effect that such things were all wrong. She declared energetically that +this was no decent fashion of farewell; that after the soldiers went +away there would be time enough to enact the girls they had left behind +them; and that, until then, the town should be made enlivening. So she +went about preaching a revival of cheerfulness, waving her jewelled +hand merrily from the Carewe carriage to the volunteers she saw upon the +street, calling out to them with laughter and inspiring quip; everywhere +scolding the mourners viciously in her husky voice, and leaving so much +of heartening vivacity in her wake that none could fail to be convinced +that she was a wise woman. + +Nor was her vigor spent in vain. It was decided that a ball should be +given to the volunteers of Rouen two nights before their departure for +the State rendezvous, and it should be made the noblest festival in +Rouen's history; the subscribers took their oath to it. They rented the +big dining-room at the Rouen House, covered the floor with smooth cloth, +and hung the walls solidly with banners and roses, for June had come. +More, they ran a red carpet across the sidewalk (which was perfectly +dry and clean) almost to the other side of the street; they imported +two extra fiddles and a clarionet to enlarge the orchestra; and they +commanded a supper such as a hungry man beholds in a dream. + +Miss Betty laid out her prettiest dress that evening, and Mrs. Tanberry +came in and worshipped it as it rested, like foam of lavender and white +and gray, upon the bed, beside the snowy gloves with their tiny, stiff +lace gauntlets, while two small white sandal-slippers, with jeweled +buckles where the straps crossed each other, were being fastened upon +Miss Betty's silken feet by the vain and gloating Mamie. + +“It's a wicked cruelty, Princess!” exclaimed Mrs. Tanberry. “We +want cheer the poor fellows and help them to be gay, and here do you +deliberately plan to make them sick at the thought of leaving the place +that holds you! Or have you discovered that there's one poor vagabond of +the band getting off without having his heart broken, and made up your +mind to do it for him tonight?” + +“Is father to go with us?” asked Betty. It was through Mrs. Tanberry +that she now derived all information concerning Mr. Carewe, as he had +not directly addressed her since the afternoon when he discovered her +reading the Journal's extra. + +“No, we are to meet him' there. He seems rather pleasanter than usual +this evening,” remarked Mrs. Tanberry, hopefully, as she retired. + +“Den we mus' git ready to share big trouble tomorrer!” commented the +kneeling Mamie, with a giggle. + +Alas! poor adoring servitress, she received a share unto herself that +very evening, for her young mistress, usually as amiable as a fair +summer sky, fidgetted, grumbled, found nothing well done, and was never +two minutes in the same mind. After donning the selected dress, she +declared it a fright, tried two others, abused each roundly, dismissed +her almost weeping handmaiden abruptly, and again put on the first. +Sitting down to the mirror, she spent a full hour over the arrangement +of her hair, looking attentively at her image, sometimes with the +beginning of doubtful approval, often angrily, and, now and then, +beseechingly, imploring it to be lovely. + +When Mrs. Tanberry came in to tell her that Nelson was at the block with +the carriage, Miss Betty did not turn, and the elder lady stopped on the +threshold and gave a quick, asthmatic gasp of delight. For the picture +she saw was, without a doubt in the world, what she proclaimed it, a +moment later, ravishingly pretty: the girlish little pink and white room +with all its dainty settings for a background, lit by the dozen candles +in their sconces and half as many slender silver candlesticks, and, +seated before the twinkling mirror, the beautiful Miss Carewe, in her +gown of lace and flounces that were crisp, yet soft, her rope of pearls, +her white sandals, and all the glory of her youth. She had wound a +wreath of white roses into her hair, her cheeks were flushed, and her +eyes warm and glowing, yet inscrutable in their long gaze into the +mirror. + +“Oh,” said Mrs. Tanberry, “you make me want to be a man! I'd pick you +up and run to the North Pole, where no one could ever follow. And I can +tell you that it hurts not to throw my arms round you and kiss you; but +you're so exquisite I don't want to touch you!” + +In answer, Miss Betty ran to her and kissed her rapturously on both +cheeks. “Am I--after all?” she cried. “Am I? Is it? Will the roses do?” + And without heeding her companion's staccatoes of approval she went +rapidly to the open bureau, snatched up a double handful of ribbons and +furbelows, and dashed out of the room in search of the disgraced Mamie. +She found her seated on the kitchen door-step in lonely lamentation, and +showered the gifts into her lap, while the vain one shrieked inimitably +with pride in the sudden vision of her mistress and joy of the +incredible possessions. + +“Here, and here, and here!” said Miss Betty in a breath, hurling the +fineries upon her. “I'm an evil-tongued shrew, Mamie, and these aren't +to make up for the pain I gave you, but just to show that I'd like to if +I knew how! Good-by!” And she was off like an April breeze. + +“Dance wid the han'somdest,” screamed Mamie, pursuing uproariously +to see the last of her as she jumped into the carriage, “bow to de +wittriest, an' kiss de one you love de bes'!” + +“That will be you!” said Miss Betty to Mrs. Tanberry, and kissed the +good lady again. + + + +CHAPTER XVI. “Those Endearing Young Charms” + +It is a matter not of notoriety but of the happiest celebrity that Mrs. +Tanberry danced that night, and not only that she danced, but that she +waltzed. To the lot of Tappingham Marsh (whom she pronounced the most +wheedlmg vagabond, next to Crailey Gray, of her acquaintance) it fell to +persuade her; and, after a quadrille with the elder Chenoweth, she was +with Tappingham. More extraordinary to relate, she danced down both +her partner and music. Thereupon did Mr. Bareaud, stung with envy, dare +emulation and essay a schottische with Miss Trixie Chenoweth, performing +marvelously well for many delectable turns before he unfortunately fell +down. It was a night when a sculptured god would have danced on his +pedestal: June, but not over-warm, balm in the air and rose leaves on +the breeze; and even Minerva's great heels might have marked the time +that orchestra kept. Be sure they waltzed again to “Those Endearing +Young Charms “: + +“Oh, the heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on +to the close: as the sunflower turns on her god when he sets, The same +look that she gave when he rose.” + +Three of the volunteers were resplendent in their regimentals: Mr. Marsh +(who had been elected captain of the new company to succeed Vanrevel), +and Will Cummings and Jean Madrillon, the lieutenants. This glory was +confined to the officers, who had ordered their uniforms at home, for +the privates and non-commissioned officers were to receive theirs at the +State rendezvous. However, although this gala adornment was limited to +the three gentlemen mentioned, their appearance added “an indescribable +air of splendor and pathos to the occasion,” to quote Mr. Cummings +once more. A fourth citizen of the town who might have seized upon this +opportunity to display himself as a soldier neglected to take advantage +of it and stole in quietly, toward the last, in his ordinary attire, +leaving his major's uniform folded on a chair in his own room. The flag +was to be presented to the volunteers at the close of the evening, and +Tom came for that--so he claimed to his accusing soul. + +He entered unobserved and made his way, keeping close to the wall, to +where Mrs. Bareaud sat, taking a chair at her side; but Robert Carewe, +glancing thither by chance, saw him, and changed countenance for an +instant. Mr. Carewe composed his features swiftly, excused himself with +elaborate courtesy from Miss Chenoweth, with whom he was talking, and +crossed the room to a corner near his enemy. Presently, as the music +ceased, the volunteers were bidden to come forward, whereupon Tom +left Mrs. Bareaud and began to work his way down the room. Groups were +forming and breaking up in the general movement of the crowd, and the +dissolving of one brought him face to face with Elizabeth Carewe, who +was moving slowly in the opposite direction, a small flock of suitors in +her train. + +The confrontation came so suddenly and so unexpectedly that, before +either was aware, they looked squarely into each other's eyes, full and +straight, and both stopped instantly as though transfixed, Miss Betty +leaving a sentence forever half-complete. There was a fierce, short +vocal sound from the crowd behind Vanrevel; but no one noticed Mr. +Carewe; and then Tom bowed gravely, as in apology for blocking the way, +and passed on. + +Miss Betty began to talk again, much at random, with a vivacity too +greatly exaggerated to be genuine, while the high color went from her +cheeks and left her pale. Nothing could have enraged her more with +herself than the consciousness, now suddenly strong within her, that the +encounter had a perceptible effect upon her. What power had this man to +make her manner strained and mechanical? What right had his eyes always +to stir her as they did? It was not he for whom she had spent an hour +over her hair; not he for whom she had driven her poor handmaiden away +in tears: that was for one who had not come, one great in heart and +goodness, one of a pure and sacrificial life who deserved all she could +give, and for whose sake she had honored herself in trying to look as +pretty as she could. He had not come; and that hurt her a little, but +she felt his generosity, believing that his motive was to spare her, +since she could not speak to him in Mr Carewe's presence without open +and public rupture with her father. Well, she was almost ready for that, +seeing how little of a father hers was! Ah! that other should have come, +if only to stand between her and this tall hypocrite whose dark glance +had such strength to disturb her. What lies that gaze contained, all +in the one flash!--the strange pretence of comprehending her gently +but completely, a sad compassion, too, and with it a look of farewell, +seeming to say: “Once more I have come for this--and just, 'Good-by!” + For she knew that he was going with the others, going perhaps forever, +only the day after tomorrow---then she would see him no more and be free +of him. Let the day after tomorrow come soon! Miss Betty hated herself +for understanding the adieu, and hated herself more because she could +not be sure that, in the startled moment of meeting before she collected +herself, she had let it go unanswered. + +She had done more than that: without knowing it she had bent her head to +his bow, and Mr. Carewe had seen both the salutation and the look. + +The young men were gathered near the orchestra, and, to the hilarious +strains of “Yankee Doodle,” the flag they were to receive for their +regiment was borne down the room by the sisters and sweethearts who had +made it, all of whom were there, except Fanchon Bareaud. Crailey had +persuaded her to surrender the flag for the sake of spending this +evening--next to his last in Rouen--at home alone with him. + +The elder Chenoweth made the speech of presentation, that is, he made +part of it before he broke down, for his son stood in the ranks of the +devoted band. Until this incident occurred, all had gone trippingly, for +everyone had tried to put the day after to-morrow from his mind. Perhaps +there might not have been so many tears even now, if the young men had +not stood together so smilingly to receive their gift; it was seeing +them so gay and confident, so strong in their youth and so unselfish of +purpose; it was this, and the feeling that all of them must suffer and +some of them die before they came back. So that when Mr. Chenoweth, +choking in his loftiest flight, came to a full stop, and without +disguise buried his face in his handkerchief, Mrs. Tanberry, the apostle +of gayety, openly sobbed. Chenoweth, without more ado, carried the flag +over to Tappingham Marsh, whom Vanrevel directed to receive it, and +Tappingham thanked the donors without many words, because there were not +then many at his command. . + +Miss Carewe bad been chosen to sing “The Star Spangled Banner,” and +she stepped out a little from the crowd to face the young men as the +orchestra sounded the first chord. She sang in a full, clear voice, but +when the volunteers saw that, as she sang, the tears were streaming down +her cheeks in spite of the brave voice, they began to choke with the +others. If Miss Betty found them worth weeping for, they could afford +to cry a little for themselves. Yet they joined the chorus nobly, and +raised the roof with the ringing song, sending the flamboyant, proud old +words thunderously to heaven. + +That was not the last song of the night. General Trumble and Mr. +Chenoweth had invited their young friends to attend, after the ball, a +collation which they chose to call a supper, but which, to accord with +the hour, might more aptly have been designated a breakfast. To afford a +private retreat for the scene of this celebration, they had borrowed the +offices of Gray and Vanrevel, and Crailey hospitably announced that any +guest was welcome to stay for a year or two, since, probably, neither of +the firm would have need of an office for at least that length of time. +Nine men gathered about the table which replaced Tom's work-a-day old +desk: the two Chenoweths, Eugene Madrillon, Marsh, Jefferson Bareaud, +the stout General, Tom Vanrevel, Crailey, and Will Cummings, the editor +coming in a little late, but rubbing his hands cheerfully over what he +declared was to be the last column from his pen to rear its length +on the Journal's front page for many a long day--a description of the +presentation of the flag, a bit of prose which he considered almost +equal to his report of the warehouse fire. + +This convivial party made merry and tried to forget that most of them +had “been mighty teary,” as Marsh said, an hour earlier; while Mr. +Chenoweth sat with his hand on his son's shoulder, unconsciously most of +the time, apologetically removing, it when he observed it. Many were the +witticisms concerning the difference in rank hence forth to be observed +between the young men, as Tom was now a major, Marsh a captain, Will +Cummings a second lieutenant, and the rest mere privates, except +Crailey, who was a corporal. Nevertheless, though the board was festive, +it was somewhat subdued and absent until they came to the toasts. + +It was Tappingham who proposed Miss Betty Carewe. “I know Tom Vanrevel +will understand--nay, I know he's man enough to join us,” said Marsh as +he rose. “Why shouldn't I say that we may hail ourselves as patriots, +indeed, since at the call of our country we depart from the town which +is this lady's home, and at the trumpet's sound resign the gracious +blessing of seeing her day by day, and why shouldn't we admit loyally +and openly that it is her image alone which shines in the hearts of most +of us here?” + +And no man arose to contradict that speech, which appears to have rung +true, seeing that four of those present had proposed to her (again) that +same evening. “So I give you,” cried Tappingham, gallantly, “the +health of Miss Betty Carewe, the loveliest rose of our bouquet! May she +remember us when we come home!” + +They rose and drank it with a shout. But Tom Vanrevel, not setting down +his cup, went to the window and threw wide the shutters, letting in a +ruddy shaft of the morning sun, so that as he stood in the strong glow +he looked like a man carved out of red gold. He lifted his glass, +not toward the table and his companions, while they stared at him, +surprised, but toward the locusts of Carewe Street. + +“To Miss Betty Carewe,” he said, “the finest flower of them all! May she +remember those who never come home!” + +And, without pausing, he lifted his rich baritone in an old song that +had been vastly popular with the young men of Rouen ever since the night +of Miss Betty's debut; they had hummed it as they went about their daily +work, they had whistled it on the streets; they had drifted, into dreams +at night with the sound of it still chiming in their ears; and now, with +one accord, as they stood gathered together for the last time in Rouen, +they joined Tom Vanrevel and sang it again. And the eyes of Crailey Gray +rested very gently upon his best friend as they sang: + +“Believe me, If all those endearing young charms, Which I gaze on so +fondly to-day, Were to change by to-morrow and fleet from my arms, Like +fairy gifts fading away, Thou wouldst still be adored as this moment +thou art: Let thy loveliness fade as it will, And around the dear ruin, +each wish of my heart Would entwine itself verdantly still.” + + + +CHAPTER XVII. The Price of Silence + +It was the misfortune of Mr. Cummings's first literary offering to annoy +one of the editor's friends. The Journal was brought to the corporal at +noon, while he was considering whether he should rise from his couch +or sleep another hour. Reclining among his pillows, he glanced through +Cummings's description with the subdued giggle he always had for the +good William's style but as his eye fell upon one paragraph he started +sat upright, and proceeded to read the passage several times with +anxious attention. + +“Only two or three sources of regret occurred to mar the delight (in +which young and old participated) of that festal and dazzling scene. One +was the absence of Miss Fanchon Bareaud, one the donors; another, that +of Corporal Gray; a third was the excessive modesty of Major Vanrevel, +although present at the time, refused to receive the ladies' sumptuous +offering and insisted that Captain Marsh was the proper person to do the +honors, to which the latter reluctantly, though gracefully consented. +Also, we were sorry that the Major appeared in citizen's dress, as +all were anxious to witness him in his uniform. However, in our humble +judgment, he will be compelled by etiquette to don it this afternoon, to +receive the officers of the regular army, who will arrive by the stage +about five o'clock, it is expected, to inspect the company and swear +them into the service of the Federal Government at the Court House. We, +for one, have little doubt that, owing to the Major's well-known talent +in matters of apparel, his appearance will far eclipse in brilliancy +that of his fellow-officers.” + +Crailey dressed slowly, returning to the paper, now and then, with a +perturbed countenance. How would Miss Betty explain this paragraph to +herself, and how account for the fact that she had not seen Crailey, how +for the fact that she had seen Tom? It seemed unlikely that she could +have overlooked the latter--Tom was one of those whom everybody saw, +wherever he went. And what inquiries would she make? For Crailey had no +means of knowing that she would not see the Journal. Tomorrow he would +be gone, it would be all over, but he wanted this last day to run +smoothly. What wild hopes he had of things that should happen when +they all came marching home, no one can say; even if it were not to be +doubted that Crailey ever entertained hopes of any kind whatever, since +to hope is to bestow thought upon the future. + +But, however affairs ran with him so far as hope was concerned, he +seldom lacked an idea; and one came to him presently, a notion that put +the frown to rout and brought the old smile to his lips, his smile of +the world-worn and tolerant prelate. He flicked the paper lightly from +him, and it sped across the room like a big bird in awkward flight. +For he knew how to preserve his last day as he wished, and to make all +smooth. + +He finished his toilet with particular care, took a flower from a vase +on his table, placed it in his coat, and went down to the dusty street, +where everything was warm and bright with summer. It was joy to be +alive; there was wine enough in the air; and Crailey made up his mind +not to take a drink that day--the last day! The last day! The three +words kept ringing through his head like a minor phrase from a song. +Tomorrow, at noon, they would be churning down the river; and this was +the last day--the last day! + +“Still not too late to make another friend at home,” he said, stopping +to pat the head of a mangy street cur that came crouching and wobbling +toward him like a staveless little keg worried by scurries of wind. Dogs +and children always fell in love with Crailey at first sight, and he +never failed to receive them in the spirit of their approach. Now the +mongrel, at his touch, immediately turned himself over and lay upon the +pavement with all paws in air, to say: “Great lord, magnificent in the +graciousness which deigns to cast a glimpse upon this abject cluster of +ribs, I perceive that your heart is too gentle to kick me in my present +helplessness; yet do with me as you will.” + +“I doubt if you've breakfasted, brother,” Crailey responded aloud, +rubbing the dog's head softly with the tip of his boot. “Will you share +the meagre fare of one who is a poet, should be a lawyer, but is about +to become a soldier? Eh, but a corporal! Rise, my friend. Up! and be +in your own small self a whole Corporal's Guard! And if your Corporal +doesn't come home from the wars, perhaps you'll remember him kindly? +Think?” + +He made a vivacious gesture, the small animal sprang into the air, +convoluted with gratitude and new love, while Crailey, laughing softly, +led the way to the hotel. There, while he ate sparsely himself, he +provided munificently for his new acquaintance, and recommended him, +with an accompaniment of silver, to the good offices of the Rouen House +kitchen. After that, out into the sunshine again he went, with elastic +step, and a merry word and a laugh for everyone he met. At the old +English gardener's he bought four or five bouquets, and carried them on +a round of visits of farewell to as many old ladies who had been kind to +him. This done, leaving his laughter and his flowers behind him, he +went to Fanchon and spent part of the afternoon bringing forth cunning +arguments cheerily, to prove to her that General Taylor would be in the +Mexican capital before the volunteers reached New Orleans, and urging +upon her his belief that they would all be back in Rouen before the +summer was gone. + +But Fanchon could only sob and whisper, “Hush, hush!” in the dim room +where they sat, the windows darkened so that, after he had gone, he +should not remember how red her eyes were, and the purple depths under +them, and thus forget how pretty she had been at her best. After a time, +finding that the more he tried to cheer her, the more brokenly she wept, +he grew silent, only stroking her head, while the summer sounds came +in through the window: the mill-whir of locusts, the small monotone of +distant farm-bells, the laughter of children in the street, and the gay +arias of a mocking-bird singing in the open window of the next house. So +they sat together through the long, still afternoon of the last day. + +No one in Rouen found that afternoon particularly enlivening. Even Mrs. +Tanberry gave way to the common depression, and, once more, her +doctrine of cheerfulness relegated to the ghostly ranks of the purely +theoretical, she bowed under the burden of her woe so far as to sing +“Methought I Met a Damsel Fair” (her of the bursting sighs) at the +piano. Whenever sadness lay upon her soul she had acquired the habit +of resorting to this unhappy ballad; today she sang it four times. Mr. +Carewe was not at home, and had announced that though he intended to +honor the evening meal by his attendance, he should be away for the +evening itself; as comment upon which statement Mrs. Tanberry had +offered ambiguously the one word, “Amen!” He was stung to no reply, and +she had noted the circumstance as unusual, and also that he had appeared +to labor with the suppression of a keen excitement, which made him +anxious to escape from her sharp little eyes; an agitation for which +she easily accounted when she recalled that he had seen Vanrevel on the +previous evening. Mr. Carewe had kept his promise to preserve the peace, +as he always kept it when the two met on neutral ground, but she had +observed that his face showed a kind of hard-leashed violence whenever +he had been forced to breathe the air of the same room with his enemy, +and that the thing grew on him. + +Miss Betty exhibited not precisely a burning interest in the adventure +of the Damsel Fair, wandering out of the room during the second +rendition, wandering back again, and once more away. She had moved +about the house in this fashion since early morning, wearing what Mamie +described as a “peak-ed look.” White-faced and restless, with distressed +eyes, to which no sleep had come in the night, she could not read; she +could no more than touch her harp; she could not sleep; she could not +remain quiet for three minutes together. Often she sank into a chair +with an air of languor and weariness, only to start immediately out of +it and seek some other part of the house, or to go and pace the garden. +Here, in the air heavy with roses and tremulous with June, as she walked +rapidly up and down, late in the afternoon, at the time when the faraway +farm-bells were calling men from the fields to supper, the climax of her +restlessness came. That anguish and desperation, so old in her sex, the +rebellion against the law that inaction must be her part, had fallen +upon her for the first time. She came to an abrupt stop and struck her +hands together despairingly, and spoke aloud. + +“What shall I do! What shall I do!” + +“Ma'am?” asked a surprised voice, just behind her. + +She wheeled quickly about, to behold a shock-headed urchin of ten in +the path near the little clearing. He was ragged, tanned, dusty, neither +shoes nor coat trammelling his independence; and he had evidently +entered the garden through the gap in the hedge. + +“I thought you spoke to me?” he said, inquiringly. + +“I didn't see you,” she returned. “What is it?” + +“You Miss Carewe?” he asked; but before she could answer he said, +reassuringly, “Why, of course you are! I remember you perfect, now I git +the light on you, so to speak. Don't you remember me?” + +“No, I don't think I do.” + +“Lord!” he responded, wonderingly. “I was one of the boys with you on +them boxes the night of your pa's fire!” Mingled with the surprise in +his tone was a respectful unction which intimated how greatly he honored +her father for having been the owner of so satisfactory a conflagration. + +“Were you? Perhaps I'll remember you if you give me time.” + +But at this point the youth recalled the fact that he had an errand +to discharge, and, assuming an expression of businesslike haste too +pressing to permit farther parley, sought in his pocket and produced a +sealed envelope, with which he advanced upon her. + +“Here. There's an answer. He told me not to tell nobody who sent it, and +not to give it to nobody on earth but you, and how to slip in through +the hedge and try and find you in the garden when nobody was lookin', +and he give a pencil for you to answer on the back of it, and a dollar.” + +Miss Betty took the note, glancing once over her shoulder at the house, +but Mrs. Tanberry was still occupied with the Maiden, and no one was in +sight. She read the message hastily. + +“I have obeyed you, and shall always. You have not sent for me. Perhaps +that was because there was no time when you thought it safe. Perhaps you +have still felt there would be a loss of dignity. Does that weigh with +you against good-by? Tell me, if you can, that you have it in your heart +to let me go without seeing you once more, without good-by--for the last +time. Or was it untrue that you wrote me what you did? Was that dear +letter but a little fairy dream of mine? Ah, will you see me again, this +once--this once--let me look at you, let me talk with you, hear your +voice? The last time!” + +There was no signature. + +Miss Betty quickly wrote four lines upon the same sheet: “Yes--yes! +I must see you, must talk with you before you go. Come at dusk. The +garden--near the gap in the hedge. It will be safe for a little while. +He will not be here.” She replaced the paper in its envelope, drew +a line through her own name on the letter, and wrote “Mr. Vanrevel” + underneath. + +“Do you know the gentleman who sent you?” she asked. + +“No'm; but he'll be waitin' at his office, 'Gray and Vanrevel,' on Main +Street, for the answer.” + +“Then hurry!” said Betty. + +He needed no second bidding, but, with wings on his bare heels, made off +through the gap in the hedge. At the corner of the street he encountered +an adventure, a gentleman's legs and a heavy hand at the same time. The +hand fell on his shoulder, arresting his scamper with a vicious jerk; +and the boy was too awed to attempt an escape, for he knew his captor +well by sight, although never before had he found himself so directly in +the company of Rouen's richest citizen. The note dropped from the small +trembling fingers, yet those fingers did not shake as did the man's +when, like a flash, Carewe seized upon the missive with his disengaged +hand and saw what two names were on the envelope. + +“You were stealing, were you!” he cried, savagely. “I saw you sneak +through my hedge!” + +“I didn't, either!” + +Mr. Carewe ground his teeth, “What were you doing there?” + +“Nothing!” + +“Nothing!” mocked Carewe. “Nothing! You didn't carry this to the young +lady in there and get her answer?” + +“No, sir!” answered the captive, earnestly. + +“Cross my heart I didn't. I found it!” + +Slowly the corrugations of anger were levelled from the magnate's face, +the white heat cooled, and the prisoner marvelled to find himself in +the presence of an urbane gentleman whose placidity made the scene of +a moment ago appear some trick of distorted vision. And yet, curious to +behold, Mr. Carewe's fingers shook even more violently than before, as +he released the boy's shoulder and gave him a friendly tap on the head, +at the same time smiling benevolently. + +“There, there,” he said, bestowing a wink upon the youngster. “It's all +right; it doesn't matter--only I think I see the chance of a jest in +this. You wait, while I read this little note, this message that you +found!” He ended by winking again with the friendliest drollery. + +He turned his back to the boy, and opened the note; continuing to stand +in that position while he read the two messages. It struck the messenger +that, after this, there need be no great shame in his own lack of this +much-vaunted art of reading, since it took so famous a man as Mr. Carewe +such length of time to peruse a little note. But perhaps the great +gentleman was ill, for it appeared to the boy that he lurched several +times, once so far that he would have gone over if he had not saved +himself by a lucky stagger. And once, except for the fact that the face +that had turned away had worn an expression of such genial humor, the +boy would have believed that from it issued a sound like the gnashing of +teeth. + +But when it was turned to him again, it bore the same amiable jocosity +of mouth and eye, and nothing seemed to be the matter, except that those +fingers still shook so wildly, too wildly, indeed, to restore the note +to its envelope. + +“There,” said Mr. Carewe, “put it back, laddie, put it back yourself. +Take it to the gentleman who sent you. I see he's even disguised his +hand a trifle-ha! ha!--and I suppose he may not have expected the young +lady to write his name quite so boldly on the envelope! What do you +suppose?” + +“I d'know,” returned the boy. “I reckon I don't hardly understand.” + +“No, of course not,” said Mr. Carewe, laughing rather madly. “Ha, ha, +ha! Of course you wouldn't. And how much did he give you?” + +“Yay!” cried the other, joyously. “Didn't he go and hand me a dollar!” + +“How much will you take not to tell him that I stopped you and read it; +how much not to speak of me at all?” + +“What?” + +“It's a foolish kind of joke, nothing more. I'll give you five dollars +never to tell anyone that you saw me today.” + +“Don't shoot, Colonel,” exclaimed the youth, with a riotous fling of +bare feet in the air, “I'll come down!” + +“You'll do it?” + +“Five!” he shouted, dancing upon the boards. “Five! I'll cross my heart +to die I never hear tell of you, or ever knew they was sich a man in the +world!” + +Carewe bent over him. “No! Say: 'God strike me dead and condemn me +eternally to the everlasting flames of hell if I ever tell!” + +This entailed quick sobriety, though only benevolence was in the face +above him. The jig-step stopped, and the boy pondered, frightened. + +“Have I got to say that?” + +Mr. Carewe produced a bank-bill about which the boy beheld a halo. +Clearly this was his day; heaven showed its approval of his conduct by +an outpouring of imperishable riches. And yet the oath misliked him; +there was a savor of the demoniacal contract; still that was to be +borne and the plunge taken, for there fluttered the huge sum before his +dazzled eyes. He took a deep breath. “'God strike me dead' “--he began, +slowly--“' if I ever '--” + +“No. 'And condemn me to the everlasting flames of hell '--” + +“Have I got to?” + +“Yes.”--“'And condemn me to--to the everlasting flames of--of hell, if +I ever tell!'” + +He ran off, pale with the fear that he might grow up, take to drink and +some day tell in his cups, but so resolved not to coquet with temptation +that he went round a block to avoid the door of the Rouen House bar. +Nevertheless, the note was in his hand and the fortune in his pocket. + +And Mr. Carewe was safe. He knew that the boy would never tell, and he +knew another thing, for he had read the Journal, though it came no more +to his house: he knew that Tom Vanrevel wore his uniform that evening, +and that, even in the dusk, the brass buttons on an officer's breast +make a good mark for a gun steadied along the ledge of a window. As he +entered the gates and went toward the house he glanced up at the window +which overlooked his garden from the cupola. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. The Uniform + +Crailey was not the only man in Rouen who had been saying to himself all +day that each accustomed thing he did was done for the last time. Many +of his comrades went about with “Farewell, old friend,” in their hearts, +not only for the people, but for the usual things of life and the +actions of habit, now become unexpectedly dear and sweet to know or +to perform. So Tom Vanrevel, relieved of his hot uniform, loose as to +collar, wearing a big dressing-gown, and stretched in a chair, watched +the sunset from the western window of the dusty office, where he had +dreamed through many sun-sets in summers past, and now took his leave +of this old habit of his in silence, with a long cigar, considering the +chances largely against his ever seeing the sun go down behind the long +wooden bridge at the foot of Main Street again. + +The ruins of the warehouses had been removed, and the river was laid +clear to his sight; it ran between brown banks like a river of rubies, +and, at the wharf, the small evening steamboat, ugly and grim enough +to behold from near by, lay pink and lovely in that broad glow, tooting +imminent departure, although an hour might elapse before it would back +into the current. The sun widened, clung briefly to the horizon, and +dropped behind the low hills beyond the bottom lands; the stream grew +purple, then took on a lustre of pearl as the stars came out, while rosy +distances changed to misty blue; the chatter of the birds in the Main +Street maples became quieter, and, through lessening little choruses of +twittering, fell gradually to silence. And now the blue dusk crept on +the town, and the corner drug-store window-lights threw mottled colors +on the pavement. From the hall, outside the closed office-door, came +the sound of quick, light footsteps; it was Crailey going out; but Tom +only sighed to himself, and did not hail him. So these light footsteps +of Crailey Gray echoed but a moment in the stairway and were heard no +more. + +A few moments later a tall figure, dressed from neck to heels in a gray +cloak crossed the mottled lights, and disappeared into Carewe Street. +This cloaked person wore on his head a soldier's cap, and Tom, not +recognizing him surely, vaguely wondered why Tappingham Marsh chose to +muffle himself so warmly on a evening. He noted the quick, alert tread +as like Marsh's usual gait, but no suspicion crossed his mind that the +figure might be that of partner. + +A rocket went up from the Rouen House, then another, followed by a salvo +of anvils and rackety discharge of small-arms; the beginning a noble +display of fireworks in celebration of prospective victories of the +United States and utter discomfiture of the Mexicans when the Rouen +Volunteers should reach the seat of war, an Exhibition of patriotism +which brought little pleasure to Mr. Vanrevel. + +But over the noise of the street he heard his own name shouted from the +stairway, and almost instantly a violent knocking assailed the door. +Be-fore he could bid the visitor enter, the door was flung open by a +stout and excited colored woman, who, at sight of him, threw up her +hands in tremulous thanksgiving. It was the vain Mamie. + +She sank into a chair, and rocked herself to and fro, gasping to regain +her lost breath. “Bless de good God 'Imighty you am' gone out!” she +panted. “I run an' I run, an' I come so fas' I got stitches in de side +f'um head to heel!” + +Tom brought her a glass of water, which she drank between gasps. + +“I nevah run so befo' enduin' my livin' days,” she asserted. “You knows +me, who I am an' whum I cum f'um, nigh's well's I knows who you is, I +reckon, Maje' Vanrevel?” + +“Yes, yes, I know. Will you tell me who sent you?” + +“Miz Tanberry, suh, dat who sended me, an' in a venomous hurry she done +de same!” + +“Yes. Why? Does she want me?” + +Mamie emitted a screech. “'Deed she mos' everlas'in'ly does not! Dat de +ve'y exackindes' livin' t'ing she does not want!” + +“Then what is it, Mamie?” + +“Lemme git my bref, suh, an' you hole yo'ne whiles I tell you! She say +to me, she say: 'Is you 'quainted Maje' Vanrevel, Mamie?' s' she, an' I +up'n' ansuh, 'Not to speak wid, but dey ain; none on 'em I don' knows by +sight, an' none betterer dan him,' I say. Den she say, she say: 'You run +all de way an' fin' dat young man,' she say, s' she, 'an' if you don' +git dah fo' he leave, er don' stop him on de way, den God 'imighty +fergive you!' she say. 'But you tell him f'um Jane Tanberry not to come +nigh dis house or dis gyahden dis night! Tell him dat Jane Tanberry warn +him he mus' keep outer Carewe's way ontel he safe on de boat to-morrer. +Tell him Jane Tanberry beg him to stay in he own room dis night, an' dat +she beg it on her bented knees!' An' dis she say to me when I tole her +what Nelson see in dat house dis evenin'. An' hyuh I is, an' hyuh yew +is, an' de blessed Jesus be thank', you ir hyuh!” + +Tom regarded her with a grave attention. “What made Mrs. Tanberry think +I might be coming there to-night?” + +“Dey's cur'ous goin's-on in dat house, suh! De young lady she ain' like +herself; all de day long she wanduh up an' down an' roun' about. Miz +Tanberry are a mighty guessifying woman, an' de minute I tell her +what Nelse see, she s'pec' you a-comin' an' dat de boss mos' pintedly +preparin' fo' it!” + +“Can you make it a little clearer for me, Mamie? I'm afraid I don't +understand.” + +“Well, suh, you know dat ole man Nelson, he allays tell me ev'yt'ing +he know, an' ev'yt'ing he think he know, jass de same, suh. An' dat ole +Nelse, he mos' 'sessful cull'd man in de worl' to crope roun' de house +an' pick up de gossip an' git de 'fo' an' behine er what's goin' on. So +'twas dat he see de boss, when he come in to'des evenin', tek dat heavy +musket offn' de racks an' load an' clean her, an' he do it wid a mighty +bad look 'bout de mouf. Den he gone up to de cupoly an' lef' it dah, an' +den come down ag'in. Whiles dey all is eatin', he 'nounce th'ee time' +dat he goin' be 'way endu'in' de evenin'. Den he gone out de front do', +an' out de gates, an' down de street. Den, su, den, suh, 'tain't no mo'n +a half-'n-'our ago, Nelse come to me an' say dat he see de boss come +roun' de stable, keepin' close in by de shrubbery, an' crope in de +ball-room win-der, w'ich is close to de groun', suh. Nelse 'uz a +cleanin' de harness in de back yo'd an' he let on not to see him, like. +Miss Betty, she walkin' in her gyahden an' Miz Tanberry fan' on de +po'ch. Nelse, he slip de house whuh de lights ain' lit, an' stan' an' +listen long time in de liberry at de foot er dem sta'hs; an' he hyuh +dat man move, suh! Den Nelse know dat he done crope up to de cupoly room +an'--an' dat he settin' dah, waitin'! Soze he come an' tole me, an' I +beg Miz Tanberry come in de kitchen, an' I shet de do' an' I tole her. +An' she sended me hyuh to you, suh. An' if you 'uz a-goin', de good God +'lmighty mus' er kep' you ontel I got hyuh!” + +“No; I wasn't going.” Tom smiled upon her sadly. “I dare say there's a +simpler explanation. Don't you suppose that if Nelson was right and Mr. +Carewe really did come back, it was because he did not wish his daughter +and Mrs. Tanberry to know that--that he expected a party of friends, +possibly, to join him there later?” + +“What he doin' wid dat gun, suh? Nobody goin' play cyahds ner frow dice +wid a gun, is dey?” asked Mamie, as she rose and walked toward the door. + +“Oh, that was probably by chance.” + +“No, suh!” she cried, vehemently. “An' dem gelmun wouldn' play t'-night, +no way; mos' on 'em goin' wid you to-morrer an' dey sayin' goodby to +de'r folks dis evenin', not gamblin'! Miz Tanberry'll be in a state er +mine ontel she hyuh f'um me, an' I goin' hurry back. You won' come +dah, suh? I kin tell her dat you say you sutney ain' comin' nigh our +neighborhood dis night?” + +“I had not dreamed of coming, tell her, please. Probably I shall not go +out at all this evening. But it was kind of you to come. Good-night.” + +He stood with a candle to light her down the stairs, but after she had +gone he did not return to the office. Instead, he went slowly up to his +own room, glancing first into Crailey's--the doors of neither were often +locked--to behold a chaos of disorder and unfinished packing. In his own +chamber it only remained for him to close the lids of a few big boxes, +and to pack a small trunk which he meant to take with him to the camp of +the State troops, and he would be ready for departure. He set about this +task, and, concluding that there was no necessity to wear his uniform +on the steamboat, decided to place it in the trunk, and went to the bed +where he had folded and left it. It was not there. Nor did a thorough +search reveal it anywhere in the room. Yet no one could have stolen it, +for when he had gone down to the office Crailey had remained on this +floor. Mamie had come within a few minutes after Crailey went out, and +during his conversation with her the office-door had been open; no one +could have passed without being seen. Also, a thief would have taken +other things as well as the uniform; and surely Crailey must have heard; +Crailey would--Crailey--! + +Then Tom remembered the figure in the long cloak and the military cap, +and, with a sick heart, began to understand. He had read the Journal, +and he knew why Crailey might wish to masquerade in a major's uniform +that night. If Miss Carewe read it too, and a strange wonder rose in her +mind, this and a word would convince her. Tom considered it improbable +that the wonder would rise, for circumstances had too well established +her in a mistake, trivial and ordinary enough at first, merely the +confusing of two names by a girl new to the town, but so strengthened by +every confirmation Crailey's wit could compass that she would, no doubt, +only set Cummings's paragraph aside as a newspaper error. Still, Crailey +had wished to be on the safe side! + +Tom sighed rather bitterly. He was convinced that the harlequin would +come home soon, replace the uniform (which was probably extremely +becoming to him, as they were of a height and figure much the same), and +afterward, in his ordinary dress, would sally forth to spend his last +evening with Fanchon. Tom wondered how Crailey would feel and what he +would think about himself while he was changing his clothes, but he +remembered his partner's extraordinary powers of mental adjustment--and +for the first time in his life Vanrevel made no allowance for the +other's temperament, and there came to him a moment when he felt that he +could almost dislike Crailey Gray. + +At all events, he would go out until Crailey had come and left again, +for he had no desire to behold the masquerader's return. So he exchanged +his dressing-gown for a coat, fastened his collar, and had begun to +arrange his cravat at the mirror, when, suddenly, the voice of the old +negress seemed to sound close beside him in the room. + +“He's settin' dah--waitin'!” + +The cravat was never tied; Tom's hands dropped to his sides as he +started back from the staring face in the mirror. Robert Carewe was +waiting--and Crailey---- All at once there was but one vital necessity +in the world for Tom Vanrevel, that was to find Crailey; he must go to +Crailey--even in Carewe's own house--he must go to Crailey! + +He dashed down the stairs and into the street. The people were making a +great uproar in front of the hotel, exploding bombs, firing muskets in +the air, sending up rockets; and rapidly crossing the outskirts of the +crowd, he passed into Carewe Street, unnoticed. Here the detonations +were not so deafening, though the little steamboat at the wharf +was contributing to the confusion with all in her power, screeching +simultaneously approval of the celebration and her last signals of +departure. + +At the first corner Tom had no more than left the sidewalk when he +came within a foot of being ridden down by two horsemen who rode at so +desperate a gallop that (the sound of their hoof-beats being lost in +the uproar from Main Street) they were upon him before he was aware of +them. + +He leaped back with an angry shout to know who they were that they rode +so wildly. At the same time a sharp explosion at the foot of the street +sent a red flare over the scene, a flash, gone with such incredible +swiftness into renewed darkness that he saw the flying horsemen almost +as equestrian statues illumined by a flicker of lightning, but he saw +them with the same distinctness that lightning gives, and recognized the +foremost as Robert Carewe. And in the instant of that recognition, Tom +knew what had happened to Crailey Gray, for he saw the truth in the +ghastly face of his enemy. + +Carewe rode stiffly, like a man frozen upon his horse, and his face +was like that of a frozen man; his eyes glassy and not fixed upon his +course, so that it was a deathly thing to see. Once, long ago, Tom had +seen a man riding for his life, and he wore this same look. The animal +bounded and swerved under Vanrevel's enemy in the mad rush down the +street, but he sat rigid, bolt upright in the saddle, his face set to +that look of coldness. + +The second rider was old Nelson, who rode with body crouched forward, +his eyeballs like shining porcelain set in ebony, and his arm like a +flail, cruelly lashing his own horse and his master's with a heavy whip. +“De steamboat!” he shouted, hoarsely, bringing down the lash on one and +then on the other. “De steamboat, de steamboat--f o' God's sake, honey, +de steamboat!” + +They swept into Main Street, Nelson leaning far across to the other's +bridle, and turning both horses toward the river, but before they had +made the corner, Tom Vanrevel was running with all the speed that was +in him toward his enemy's house. The one block between him and that +forbidden ground seemed to him miles long, and he felt that he was +running as a man in a dream, and, at the highest pitch of agonized +exertion, covering no space, but only working the air in one place, +like a treadmill. All that was in his mind, heart, and soul was to reach +Crailey. He had known by the revelation of Carewe's face in what case he +would find his friend; but as he ran he put the knowledge from him +with a great shudder, and resolved upon incredulity in spite of his +certainty. All he let himself feel was the need to run, to run until he +found Crailey, who was somewhere in the darkness of the trees about the +long, low house on the corner. When he reached the bordering hedge, he +did not stay for gate or path, but, with a loud shout, hurled himself +half over, half through, the hedge, like a bolt from a catapult. + +Lights shone from only one room in the house, the library; but as he +ran toward the porch a candle flickered in the hall, and there came the +sound of a voice weeping with terror. + +At that he called more desperately upon his incredulity to aid him, for +the voice was Mrs. Tan-berry's. If it had been any other than she, who +sobbed so hopelessly--she who was always steady and strong! If he could, +he would have stopped to pray, now, before he faced her and the truth; +but his flying feet carried him on. + +“Who is it?” she gasped, brokenly, from the hall. “Mamie? Have you +brought him?” + +“It's I,” he cried, as he plunged through the doorway. “It's Vanrevel.” + +Mrs. Tanberry set the iron candlestick down upon the table with a crash. + +“You've come too late!” she sobbed. “Another man has taken your death on +himself.” + +He reeled back against the wall. “Oh, God!” he said. “Oh, God, God, God! +Crailey!” + +“Yes,” she answered. “It's the poor vagabond that you loved so well.” + +Together they ran through the hall to the library. Crailey was lying on +the long sofa, his eyes closed, his head like a piece of carven marble, +the gay uniform, in which he had tricked himself out so gallantly, open +at the throat, and his white linen stained with a few little splotches +of red. + +Beside him knelt Miss Betty, holding her lace handkerchief upon his +breast; she was as white as he, and as motionless; so that, as she knelt +there, immovable beside him, her arm like alabaster across his breast, +they might have been a sculptor's group. The handkerchief was stained a +little, like the linen, and like it, too, stained but a little. Nearby, +on the floor, stood a flask of brandy and a pitcher of water. + +“You!” Miss Betty's face showed no change, nor even a faint surprise, +as her eyes fell upon Tom Vanrevel, but her lips soundlessly framed the +word. “You!” + +Tom flung himself on his knees beside her. + +“Crailey!” he cried, in a sharp voice that had a terrible shake in it. +“Crailey! Crailey, I want you to hear me!” He took one of the limp hands +in his and began to chafe it, while Mrs. Tanberry grasped the other. + +“There's still a movement in the pulse,” she faltered. .. + +“Still!” echoed Tom, roughly. “You're mad! You made me think Crailey +was dead! Do you think Crailey Gray is going to die? He couldn't, I tell +you--he couldn't; you don't know him! Who's gone for the doctor?” He +dashed some brandy upon his handkerchief and set it to the white lips. + +“Mamie. She was here in the room with me when it happened.” + +“'Happened'! 'Happened'!” he mocked her, furiously. “'Happened' is a +beautiful word!” + +“God forgive me!” sobbed Mrs. Tanberry. “I was sitting in the library, +and Mamie had just come from you, when we heard Mr. Carewe shout from +the cupola room: 'Stand away from my daughter, Vanrevel, and take this +like a dog!' Only that;--and Mamie and I ran to the window, and we saw +through the dusk a man in uniform leap back from Miss Betty--they were +in that little open space near the hedge. He called out something and +waved his hand, but the shot came at the same time, and he fell. Even +then I was sure, in spite of what Mamie had said, I was as sure as +Robert Carewe was, that it was you. He came and took one look--and +saw--and then Nelson brought the horses and made him mount and go. Mamie +ran for the doctor, and Betty and I carried Crailey in. It was hard +work.” + +Miss Betty's hand had fallen from Crailey's breast where Tom's took its +place. She rose unsteadily to her feet and pushed back the hair from her +forehead, shivering convulsively as she looked down at the motionless +figure on the sofa. + +“Crailey!” said Tom, in the same angry, shaking voice. “Crailey, you've +got to rouse yourself! This won't do; you've got to be a man! Crailey!” + He was trying to force the brandy through the tightly clenched teeth. +“Crailey!” + +“Crailey!” whispered Miss Betty, leaning heavily on the back of a +chair. “Crailey?” She looked at Mrs. Tanberry with vague interrogation, +but Mrs. Tanberry did not understand. + +“Crailey!” + +It was then that Crailey's eyelids fluttered and slowly opened; and his +wandering glance, dull at first, slowly grew clear and twinkling as it +rested on the ashy, stricken face of his best friend. + +“Tom,” he said, feebly, “it was worth the price, to wear your clothes +just once!” + +And then, at last, Miss Betty saw and understood. For not the honest +gentleman, whom everyone except Robert Carewe held in esteem and +af-fection, not her father's enemy, Vanrevel, lay before her with the +death-wound in his breast for her sake, but that other--Crailey Gray, +the ne'er-do-weel and light-o'-love, Crailey Gray, wit, poet, and +scapegrace, the well-beloved town scamp. + +He saw that she knew, and, as his brightening eyes wandered up to her, +he smiled faintly. “Even a bad dog likes to have his day,” he whispered. + + + +CHAPTER XIX. The Flag Goes Marching By + +Will Cummings had abandoned the pen for the sword until such time as +Santa Anna should cry for quarter, and had left the office in charge +of an imported substitute; but late that night he came to his desk once +more, to write the story of the accident to Corporal Gray; and the tale +that he wrote had been already put into writing by Tom Vanrevel as it +fell from Crailey's lips, after the doctor had, come, so that none might +doubt it. No one did doubt it. What reason had Mr. Carewe to injure +Crailey Gray? Only five in Rouen knew the truth; for Nelson had gone +with his master, and, except Mamie, the other servants of the Carewe +household had been among the crowd in front of the Rouen House when the +shot was fired. + +So the story went over the town: how Crailey had called to say good-by +to Mrs. Tanberry; how Mr. Carewe happened to be examining the musket his +father had carried in 1812, when the weapon was accidentally discharged, +the ball entering Crailey's breast; how Mr. Carewe, stricken with +remorse and horror over this frightful misfortune, and suffering too +severe anguish of mind to remain upon the scene, of the tragedy which +his carelessness had made, had fled, attended by his servant; and how +they had leaped aboard the evening boat as it was pulling out, and were +now on their way down the river. + +And this was the story, too, that Tom told Fanchon; for it was he who +brought her to Crailey. Through the long night she knelt at Crailey's +side, his hand always pressed to her breast or cheek, her eyes always +upward, and her lips moving with her prayers, not for Crailey to be +spared, but that the Father would take good care of him in heaven till +she came. “I had already given him up,” she said to Tom, meekly, in a +small voice. “I knew it was to come, and perhaps this way is better than +that--I thought it would be far away from me. Now I can be with him, and +perhaps I shall have him a little longer, for he was to have gone away +before noon.” + +The morning sun rose upon a fair world, gay with bird-chatterings from +the big trees of the Carewe place, and pleasant with the odors of Miss +Betty's garden, and Crailey, lying upon the bed of the man who had shot +him, hearkened and smiled good-by to the summer he loved; and, when the +day broke, asked that the bed be moved so that he might lie close by the +window. It was Tom who had borne him to that room. “I have carried him +before this,” he said, waving the others aside. + +Not long after sunrise, when the bed had been moved near the window, +Crailey begged Fanchon to bring him a miniature of his mother which he +had given her, and urged her to go for it herself; he wanted no hands +but hers to touch it, he said. And when she had gone he asked to be left +alone with Tom. + +“Give me your hand, Tom,” he said, faintly. “I'd like to keep hold of +it a minute or so. I couldn't have said that yesterday, could I, without +causing us both horrible embarrassment? But I fancy I can now, because +I'm done for. That's too bad, isn't it? I'm very young, after all. +Do you remember what poor Andre Chenier said as he went up to be +guillotined?--' There were things in this head of mine!' But I want to +tell you what's been the matter with me. It was just my being a bad sort +of poet. I suppose that I've never loved anyone; yet I've cared more +deeply than other men for every lovely thing I ever saw, and there's so +little that hasn't loveliness in it. I'd be ashamed not to have cared +for the beauty in all the women I've made love to--but about this +one--the most beautiful of all--I--------” + +“She will understand!” said Tom, quickly. + +“She will--yes--she's wise and good. If Fanchon knew, there wouldn't +be even a memory left to her--and I don't think she'd live. And do you +know, I believe I've done a favor for Miss Betty in getting myself shot; +Carewe will never come back. Tom, was ever a man's knavery so exactly +the architect of his own destruction as mine? And for what gain? Just +the excitement of the comedy from day to day!--for she was sure to +despise me as soon as she knew--and the desire to hear her voice say +another kindly thing to me--and the everlasting perhaps in every woman, +and this one the Heart's Desire of all the world! Ah, well! Tell me--I +want to hear it from you--how many hours does the doctor say?” + +“Hours, Crailey?” Tom's hand twitched pitifully in the other's feeble +grasp. + +“I know it's only a few.” + +“They're all fools, doctors!” exclaimed Vanrevel, fiercely. + +“No, no. And I know that nothing can be done. You all see it, and you +want me to go easily--or you wouldn't let me have my own way so much! +It frightens me, I own up, to think that so soon I'll be wiser than the +wisest in the world. Yet I always wanted to know. I've sought and I've +sought--but now to go out alone on the search--it must be the search, +for the Holy Grail--I----” + +“Please don't talk,” begged Tom, in a broken whisper. “For mercy's sake, +lad. It wears on you so.” + +Crailey laughed weakly. “Do you think I could die peacefully without +talking a great deal? There's one thing I want, Tom. I want to see all +of them once more, all the old friends that are going down the river at +noon. What harm could it do? I want them to come by here on their way +to the boat, with the band and the new flag. But I want the band to +play cheerfully! Ask 'em to play 'Rosin the Bow,' will you? I've never +believed in mournfulness, and I don't want to see any of it now. It's +the rankest impiety of all! And besides, I want to see them as they'll +be when they come marching home--they must look gay!” + +“Ah, don't, lad, don't!” Tom flung one arm about the other's shoulder +and Crailey was silent, but rested his hand gently on his friend's head. +In that attitude Fanchon found them when she came. + +The volunteers gathered at the court-house two hours before noon. They +met each other dismally, speaking in undertones as they formed in lines +of four, while their dispirited faces showed that the heart was out of +them. Not so with the crowds of country folk and townspeople who lined +the streets to see the last of them. For these, when the band came +marching down the street and took its place, set up a royal cheering +that grew louder as Jefferson Bareaud, the color-bearer, carried the +flag to the head of the procession. With the recruits marched the +veterans of 1812 and the Indian wars, the one-legged cobbler stumping +along beside General Trumble, who looked very dejected and old. The +lines stood in silence, and responded to the cheering by quietly +removing their hats; so that the people whispered that it was more +like an Odd Fellows' Sunday funeral than the departure of enthusiastic +patriots for the seat of war. General Trumble's was not the only sad +face in the ranks; all were downcast and nervous, even those of the +lads from the country, who had not known the comrade they were to leave +behind. + +Jefferson unfurled the flag; Marsh gave the word of command, the band +began to play a quick-step, and the procession moved forward down the +cheering lane of people, who waved little flags and handkerchiefs +and threw their hats in the air as they shouted. But, contrary to +expectation, the parade was not directly along Main Street to the river. +“Right wheel! March!” commanded Tappingham, hoarsely, waving his sword, +and Jefferson led the way into Carewe Street. + +“For God's sake, don't cry now!” and Tappingham, with a large drop +streaking down his own cheek, turned savagely upon Lieutenant Cummings. +“That isn't what he wants. He wants to see us looking cheery and +smiling. We can do it for him this once, I guess! I never saw him any +other way.” + +“You look damn smiling yourself!” snuffled Will. + +“I will when we turn in at the gates,” retorted his Captain. “On my +soul, I swear I'll kill every sniffling idiot that doesn't!--In line, +there!” he stormed ferociously at a big recruit. + +The lively strains of the band and the shouting of the people grew +louder and louder in the room where Crailey lay. His eyes glistened as +he heard, and he smiled, not the old smile of the worldly prelate, but +merrily, like a child when music is heard. The room was darkened, save +for the light of the one window which fell softly upon his head and +breast and upon another fair head close to his, where Fanchon knelt. In +the shadows at one end of the room were Miss Betty and Mrs. Tanberry and +Mrs. Bareaud and the white-haired doctor who had said, “Let him have +his own way in all he asks.” Tom stood alone, close by the head of the +couch. + +“Hail to the band!” Crailey chuckled, softly. “How the rogues keep the +time! It's 'Rosin the Bow,' all right! Ah, that is as it should be. Mrs. +Tanberry, you and I have one thing in common, if you'll let me flatter +myself so far: we've always believed in good cheer in spite of the devil +and all, you and I, eh? The best of things, even if things are bad, dear +lady, eh?” + +“You darling vagabond!” Mrs. Tanberry murmured, trying to smile back to +him. + +“Hark to 'em!” said Crailey. “They're very near! Only hear the people +cheer them! They'll 'march away so gaily,' won't they?--and how right +that is!” The vanguard appeared in the street, and over the hedge +gleamed the oncoming banner, the fresh colors flying out on a strong +breeze. Crailey greeted it with a breathless cry. “There's the +flag--look, Fanchon, your flag!--. waving above the hedge; and it's Jeff +who carries it. Doesn't it always make you want to dance! Bravo, bravo!” + +The procession halted for a moment in the street and the music ceased. +Then, with a jubilant flourish of brass and the roll of drums, the band +struck up “The Star Spangled Banner,” and Jefferson Bareaud proudly +led the way through the gates and down the driveway, the bright silk +streaming overhead. Behind him briskly marched the volunteers, with +heads erect and cheerful faces, as they knew Corporal Gray wished to see +them, their Captain flourishing his sword in the air. + +“Here they come! Do you see, Fanchon?” cried Crailey, excitedly. “They +are all there, Jeff and Tappingham, and the two Madrillons and Will, +the dear old fellow--he'll never write a decent paragraph as long as he +lives, God bless him!--and young Frank--what deviltries I've led the boy +into!--and there's the old General, forgetting all the tiffs we've had. +God bless them all and grant them all a safe return! What on earth are +they taking off their hats for?--Ah, good-by, boys, good-by!” + +They saw the white face at the window, and the slender hand fluttering +its farewell, and Tappingham halted his men. + +“Three times three for Corporal Gray!” he shouted, managing, somehow, to +keep the smile upon his lips. “Three times three, and may he rejoin his +company before we enter the Mexican capital!” + +He beat the time for the thunderous cheers that they gave; the +procession described a circle on the lawn, and then, with the band +playing and colors flying, passed out of the gates and took up the march +to the wharf. + +“The flag, the flag!” whispered Crailey, following it with his eyes. +“It shows that you helped make it, Fanchon, it's so beautiful. Ah, Tom, +they've said we abused it, sometimes--it was only that we loved it so +well we didn't like to see anyone make it look silly or mean. But, after +all, no man can do that--no, nor no group of men, nor party!” His voice +grew louder as the last strains of the music came more faintly from the +street. “They'll take your banner across the Rio Grande, Fanchon, but +that is not all--some day its stars must spread over the world! Don't +you all see that they will?” + +After a little while, he closed his eyes with a sigh; the doctor bent +over him quickly, and Miss Betty started forward unconsciously and cried +out. + +But the bright eyes opened again and fixed themselves upon her with all +their old, gay inscrutability. + +“Not yet,” said Crailey. “Miss Carewe, may I tell you that I am sorry +I could not have known you sooner? Perhaps you might have liked me for +Fanchon's sake--I know you care for her.” + +“I do--I do!” she faltered. “I love her, and--ah!--I do like you, Mr. +Gray, for I know you, though I never--met you until--last night. God +bless you--God bless you!” + +She wavered a moment, like a lily in the wind, and put out a hand +blindly. “Not you!” she said sharply, as Tom Vanrevel started toward +her. Mrs. Tanberry came quickly and put an arm about her, and together +they went out of the room. + +“You must be good to her, Tom,” said Crailey then, in a very low voice. + +“I!” answered Tom, gently. “There was never a chance of that, lad.” + +“Listen,” whispered Crailey. “Lean down--no--closer.” He cast a quick +glance at Fanchon, kneeling at the other side of the bed, her golden +head on the white coverlet, her outstretched hand clutching his; and +he spoke so close to Tom's ear and in so low a tone that only Tom could +hear. “She never cared for me. She felt that she ought to--but that was +only because I masqueraded in your history. She wanted to tell me before +I went away that there was no chance for me. She was telling me that, +when he called from the window. It was at the dance, the night before, +that she knew. I think there has been someone else from the first--God +send it's you! Did you speak to her that night or she to you?” + +“Ah, no,” said Tom Vanrevel. “All the others.” + +Mrs. Tanberry and Betty and Mr. Bareaud waited in the library, the two +women huddled together on a sofa, with their arms round each other, +and all the house was very still. By and by, they heard a prolonged, +far-away cheering and the steamer's whistle, and knew that the boat was +off. Half an hour later, Will Cummings came back alone, entered the room +on tip-toe, and silently sank into a chair near Mr. Bareaud, with his +face away from Miss Betty. He was to remain in Rouen another week, and +join his regiment with Tom. None of the three appeared to notice his +coming more than dimly, and he sat with his face bowed in his hands, and +did not move. + +Thus perhaps an hour passed, with only a sound of footsteps on the +gravel of the driveway, now and then, and a low murmur of voices in the +rear of the house where people came to ask after Crailey; and when the +door of the room where he lay was opened, the four watchers started as +at a loud explosion. It was Mrs. Bareaud and the old doctor, and they +closed the door again, softly, and came in to the others. They had left +Crailey alone with Fanchon and Tom Vanrevel, the two who loved him best. + +The warm day beyond the windows became like Sunday, no voices sounded +from without in the noon hush, though sometimes a little group of people +would gather across the street to eye the house curiously and nod and +whisper. The strong, blue shadows of the veranda pillars stole slowly +across the white floor of the porch in a lessening slant, and finally +lay all in a line, as the tall clock in a corner of the library +asthmatically coughed the hour of noon. In this jarring discordance +there was something frightful to Miss Betty. She rose abruptly, and, +imperiously waving back Mrs. Tanberry, who would have detained her--for +there was in her face and manner the incipient wildness of control +overstrained to the breaking-point--she went hurriedly out of the room +and out of the house, to the old bench in the garden. There she sank +down, her face hidden in her arms; there on the spot where she had first +seen Crailey Gray. + +From there, too, had risen the serenade of the man she had spurned and +insulted; and there she had come to worship the stars when Crailey +bade her look to them. And now the strange young teacher was paying the +bitter price for his fooleries--and who could doubt that the price was +a bitter one? To have the spirit so suddenly, cruelly riven from the +sprightly body that was, but a few hours ago, hale and alert, obedient +to every petty wish, could dance, run, and leap; to be forced with such +hideous precipitation to leave the warm breath of June and undergo the +lonely change, merging with the shadow; to be flung from the exquisite +and commonplace day of sunshine into the appalling adventure that should +not have been his for years--and hurled into it by what hand!--ah, +bitter, bitter price for a harlequinade! And, alas, alas! for the brave +harlequin! + +A gentle touch fell upon her shoulder, and Miss Betty sprang to her feet +and screamed. It was Nelson who stood before her, hat in hand, his head +deeply bowed. + +“Is he with you?” she cried, clutching at the bench for support. + +“No'm,” answered the old man, humbly. “I reckon we all ain' goin' see +dat man no mo'.” + +“Where is he?” + +“On de way, honey, on de way.” + +“The way--to Rouen!” she gasped. + +“No'm; he goin' cross de big water.” He stretched out his hand and +pointed solemnly to the east. “Him an' me we cotch de boat, an' yo' pa +mek 'em taken de hosses on bode. Den we git off at Leeville, five mile' +down de rivuh, an' yo' pa hol' de boat whiles I rid back alone an' git +de news, an' what de tale is you all is tole, f'um ole Mist' Chen'eth; +an' Mist' Chen'eth, he rid back wid me an' see yo' pa at Leeville, an' +dey talk in de shed by de landin', an' yo' pa tell Mist' Chen'eth what +'rangements he goin' make wid de proprety. 'Den he git on de boat ag'in +an' dey sto't her agoin'; an' he ain' wave no good-by, ner say no mo' +wu'ds. Mist' Chen'eth rid back whens de light come; but I res' de hosses +an' come back slow, 'case I ponduh on de worl', an' I mighty sorry fer +yo' pa, Missy. He am' comin' back no mo', honey, an' Miz Tanberry an' +me an' Mamie, we goin' take keer er you. Yo' pa gone back dah to de +F'enchmun, whuh he 'uz a young man. He mighty sick, an' he scairt, +honey; an' he ain' goin' git ovah dat, neider. 'Peah to me, Missy, like +he done had a vizhum er he own soul, when he come an' look down at dat +young man layin' on de grass, las' night!” + +The old fellow bent his back before her in a solemn bow, as a feudal +retainer in allegiance to the heir, but more in deference to the +sorrow written upon her, and respecting its magnitude. With no words of +comfort, for he knew she wanted only to be alone, he moved away, with +infirm steps and shaking head, toward the rear of the house. + +Miss Betty threw herself upon the bench again, face downward in her +arms. And still the house lay in silence under the sunshine. + +An hour had passed, and the shadows slanted strongly to the east, when +the stillness was broken by a sound, low and small at first, then rising +fearfully, a long, quavering wail of supreme anguish, that clutched and +shook the listener's heart. No one could have recognized the voice as +Fanchon's, yet everyone who heard it knew that it was hers; and that the +soul of Crailey Gray had gone out upon the quest for the Holy Grail. + +Miss Betty's hands clenched convulsively round the arm of the bench and +a fit of shuddering seized her as if with the grip of a violent chill, +though her eyes were dry. Then she lay quiet. + +A long time afterward, she became aware of a step that paced the garden +path behind her, and turned her face upon her arm so that she saw, but +made no other motion. It was Tom Vanrevel, walking slowly up and down, +his hands behind his back and his hat pulled far down over his eyes. He +had not seen her. + +She rose and spoke his name. + +He turned and came to her. “Almost at the very last,” he said, “Crailey +whispered to me that he knew you thought him a great scamp, but to tell +you to be sure to remember that it was all true about the stars.” + + + +CHAPTER XX. “Goodby” + +It was between twilight and candlelight, the gentle half-hour when the +kind old Sand Man steals up the stairs of houses where children are; +when rustic lovers stroll with slow and quiet steps down country lanes, +and old bachelors are loneliest and dream of the things that might have +been. Through the silence of the clear dusk came the whistle of the +evening boat that was to bear Tom Vanrevel through the first stage of +his long journey to the front of war, and the sound fell cheerlessly +upon Miss Betty's ear, as she stood leaning against the sun-dial among +the lilac bushes. Her attitude was not one of reverie; yet she stood +very still, so still that, in the wan shimmer of the faded afterglow, +one might have passed close by her and not have seen her. The long, dark +folds of her gown showed faintly against the gray stone, and her arms, +bare from the elbow, lay across the face of the dial with unrelaxed +fingers clenching the cornice; her head drooping, not languidly but with +tension, her eyes half-closed, showing the lashes against a pale cheek; +and thus, motionless, leaning on the stone in the dusk, she might have +been Sorrow's self. + +She did not move, there was not even a flicker of the eyelashes, when +a step sounded on the gravel of the driveway, and Vanrevel came slowly +from the house. He stopped at a little distance from her, hat in hand. +He was very thin, worn and old-looking, and in the failing light might +have been taken for a tall, gentle ghost; yet his shoulders were squared +and he held himself as straight as he had the first time she had ever +seen him. + +“Mrs. Tanberry told me I should find you here,” he said, hesitatingly. +“I have come to say good-by.” + +She did not turn toward him, nor did more than her lips move as she +answered, “Good-by,” and her tone was neither kind nor cold, but held no +meaning whatever, not even indifference. + +There was an interval of silence; then, without surprise, he walked +sadly to the gate, paused, wheeled about suddenly, and returned with a +quick, firm step. + +“I will not go until I know that I do not misunderstand you,” he said, +“not even if there is only the slightest chance that I do. I want to say +something to you, if you will let me, though naturally I remember +you once asked me never to speak to you again. It is only that I have +thought you did that under a misconception, or else I should still obey +you. If you--” + +“What is it that you wish to say?” Her tone was unchanged. + +“Only that I think the hardest time for you has passed, and that--” + +“Do you?” she interrupted. + +“Yes,” he returned, “the saddest of your life. I think it has gone +forever. And I think that what will come to you will be all you wish +for. There will be a little time of waiting--” + +“Waiting for what?” + +He drew a step nearer, and his voice became very gentle. “Cummings and +I reach our regiment tomorrow night; and there in the camp is a group of +men on the way to the war, and they all go the more bravely because each +one of them has you in his heart;--not one but will be a better soldier +because of you. I want you to believe that if all of them don't come +back, yet the one whose safety you think of and fear for will return. +For, you see, Crailey told me what you said to him when--when he met +you here the last time. I have no way to know which of them you meant; +but--he will come back to you! I am sure of it, because I believe you +are to be happy. Ah, you've had your allotment of pain! After all, there +is so little to regret: the town seems empty without its young men, yet +you may rejoice, remembering how bravely they went and how gaily! They +will sing half the way to Vera Cruz! You think it strange I should say +there is so little to regret, when I've just laid away my best friend. +It was his own doctrine, and the selfish personal grief and soreness +grows less when I think of the gallant end he made, for it was he who +went away most bravely and jauntily of all. Crailey was no failure, +unless I let what he taught me go to no effect. And be sure he would +have told you what I tell you now, that all is well with all in the +world.” + +“Please!” she cried, with a quick intake of breath through closed teeth. + +“I will do anything in the world to please you,” he answered, +sorrowfully. “Do you mean that--” + +She turned at last and faced him, but without lifting her eyes. “Why did +you come to say good-by to me?” + +“I don't understand.” + +“I think you do.” Her voice was cold and steady, but it was suddenly +given to him to perceive that she was trembling from head to heel. + +An exclamation of remorse broke from him. + +“Ah! You came here to be alone. I--” + +“Stop,” she said. “You said good-by to me once before. Did you come to +see--what you saw then?” + +He fell back in utter amazement, but she advanced upon him swiftly. “Was +it that?” she cried. + +The unfortunate young man could make no reply, and remained unable to +defend himself from her inexplicable attack. + +“You have not forgotten,” she went on, impetuously. “It was in the +crowd, just before they gave you the flag. You saw--I know you saw--and +it killed me with the shame of it! Now you come to me to look at the +same thing again--and the boat waiting for you! Is it in revenge for +that night at the Bareauds'? Perhaps this sounds wild to you--I can't +help that--but why should you try to make it harder for me?” + +From the porch came a strong voice: “Vanrevel!” + +“God knows I haven't meant to,” said Tom, in bitter pain. “I don't +understand. It's Cummings calling for me; I'll go at once. I'd hoped, +stupidly enough, that you would tell me whom it was you meant when you +spoke to Crailey, so that I could help to make it surer that he'd come +back to you. But I've only annoyed you. And you were here--away from the +house----avoiding me, and fearing that I--” + +“Vanrevel!” shouted William. (Mrs. Tanberry had not told Lieutenant +Cummings where to find Miss Betty.) + +“Fearing? Yes?” + +“Fearing that I might discover you.” He let his eyes rest on her +loveliness once more, and as he saw that she still trembled, he +extended his hand toward her in a gesture of infinite gentleness, like a +blessing, heaved one great sigh, and, with head erect and body straight, +set his face manfully toward the house. + +He had taken three strides when his heart stopped beating at an +ineffable touch on his sleeve. For, with a sharp cry, she sprang to +him; and then, once more, among the lilac bushes where he had caught the +white kitten, his hand was seized and held between two small palms, and +the eyes of Miss Betty Carewe looked into the very soul of him. + +“No!” she cried. “No! Fearing with a sick heart that you might not +come!” + +Her pale face, misty with sweetness, wavered before him in the dusk, and +he lifted his shaking hand to his forehead; her own went with it, and +the touch of that steadied him. + +“You mean,” he whispered, brokenly, “you mean that you--” + +“Yes, always,” she answered, rushing through the words, half in tears. +“There was a little time when I loved what your life had been more than +you. Ah, it was you that I saw in him. Yet it was not what you had done +after all, but just you! I knew there could not be anyone else--though +I thought it could never be you--that night, just before they gave the +flag.” + +“We've little time, Vanrevel!” called the voice from the porch. + +Tom's eyes filled slowly. He raised them and looked at the newly come +stars. “Crailey, Crailey!” he murmured. + +Her gaze followed his. “Ah, it's he--and they--that make me know you +will come back to me!” she said. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Two Vanrevels, by Booth Tarkington + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TWO VANREVELS *** + +***** This file should be named 3428-0.txt or 3428-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/2/3428/ + +Produced by Richard W. 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