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An Original Belle, a novel by Edward Payson Roe |
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Chapter 17. Coming To The Point |
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_ CHAPTER XVII. COMING TO THE POINT WHEN the tide has long been rising the time comes for it to recede. From the moment of Marian's awakening to a desire for a better womanhood, she had been under a certain degree of mental excitement and exaltation. This condition had culminated with the events that wrought up the loyal North into suspense, anguish, and stern, relentless purpose. While these events had a national and world-wide significance, they also pressed closely, in their consequences, on individual life. It has been shown how true this was in the experience of Marian. Her own personal struggle alone, in which she was combating the habits and weakness of the past, would not have been a trivial matter,--it never is when there is earnest endeavor,--but, in addition to this, her whole soul had been kindling in sympathy with the patriotic fire that was impelling her dearest friends towards danger and possible death. Lane's, Strahan's, and Blauvelt's departure, and her father's peril, had brought her to a point that almost touched the limit of endurance. Then had come the man whose attentions had been so humiliating to her personally, and who represented to her the genius of the Rebellion that was bringing her such cruel experience. She saw his spirit of condescension even in his offer of marriage; worse still, she saw that he belittled the conflict in which even her father was risking his life; and her indignation and resentment had burst forth upon him with a power that she could not restrain. The result had been most unexpected. Instead of slinking away overwhelmed with shame and confusion, or departing in haughty anger, Merwyn had revealed to her that which is rarely witnessed by any one,--the awakening of a strong, passionate nature. In the cynical, polished, self-pleasing youth was something of which she had not dreamed,--of which he was equally unaware. Her bitter words pierced through the strata of self-sufficiency and pride that had been accumulating for years. She stabbed with truth the outer man and slew it, but the inner and possible manhood felt the sharp thrust and sprung up wounded, bleeding, and half desperate with pain. That which wise and kindly education might have developed was evoked in sudden agony, strong yet helpless, overwhelmed with the humiliating consciousness of what had been, and seeing not the way to what she would honor. Yet in that supreme moment the instinct asserted itself that she, who had slain his meaner self, had alone the power to impart the impulse toward true manhood and to give the true measure of it. Hence a declaration so passionate, and an appeal so full of his immense desire and need, that she was frightened, and faltered helplessly. In the following weary days of suffering and weakness, she realized that she was very human, and not at all the exalted heroine that she had unconsciously come to regard herself. The suitor whom she had thought to dismiss in contempt and anger, and to have done with, could not be banished from her mind. The fact that he had proved himself to be all that she had thought him did not satisfy her, for the reason that he had apparently shown himself to be so much more. She had judged him superficially, and punished him accordingly. She had condemned him unsparingly for traits which, except for a few short months, had been her own characteristics. While it was true that they seemed more unworthy in a man, still they were essentially the same. "But he was not a man," she sighed. "He was scarcely more than the selfish boy that wealth, indulgence, and fashionable life had made him. Why was I so blind to this? Why could I not have seen that nothing had ever touched him deeply enough to show what he was, or, at least, of what he was capable? What was Strahan before his manhood was awakened? A little gossiping exquisite. Even Mr. Lane, who was always better than any of us, has changed wonderfully since he has had exceptional motives for noble action. What was I, myself, last June, when I was amusing myself at the expense of a man whom I knew to be so good and true? In view of all this, instead of having a little charity for Mr. Merwyn, who, no doubt, is only the natural product of the influences of his life, I only tolerated him in the vindictive hope of giving the worst blow that a woman can inflict. I might have seen that he had a deeper nature; at least, I might have hoped that he had, and given him a chance to reveal it. Perhaps there has never been one who tried to help him toward true manhood. He virtually said that his mother was a Southern fanatic, and his associations have been with those abroad who sympathized with her. Is it strange that a mere boy of twenty-one should be greatly influenced by his mother and her aristocratic friends? He said his father was a Northern man, and he may have imbibed the notion that he could not fight on either side. Well, if he will give up such a false idea, if he will show that he is not cold-blooded and calculating, as his last outbreak seemed to prove, and can become as brave and true a soldier as Strahan, I will make amends by treating him as I do Strahan, and will try to feel as friendly towards him. He shall not have the right to say I'm 'not a woman but a fanatic.'" She proved herself a woman by the effort to make excuses for one towards whom she had been severe, by her tendency to relent after she had punished to her heart's content. "But," added the girl aloud, in the solitude of her room, "while I may give him my hand in some degree of kindliness and friendship, if he shows a different spirit, he shall never have my colors, never my loyal and almost sisterly love, until he has shown the courage and manhood of Mr. Lane and Mr. Strahan. They shall have the first place until a better knight appears." When, one September evening, her father quietly entered his home he gave her an impulse towards convalescence beyond the power of all remedies. There were in time mutual confidences, though his were but partial, because relating to affairs foreign to her life, and tending to create useless anxieties in respect to the future. He was one of those sagacious, fearless agents whom the government, at that period, employed in many and secret ways. For obvious reasons the nature and value of their services will never be fully known.
"In one sense you are right," he said. "We should have a broader, kindlier charity for all sorts of people, and remember that, since we do not know their antecedents and the influences leading to their actions, we should not be hasty to judge. Your course might have been more Christian-like towards young Merwyn, it is true. Coming from you, however, in your present state of development, it was very natural, and I'm not sure but he richly deserved your words. If he has good mettle he will be all the better for them. If he spoke from mere impulse and goes back to his old life and associations, I'm glad my little girl was loyal and brave enough to lodge in his memory truths that he won't forget. Take the good old doctrine to your relenting heart and don't forgive him until he 'brings forth fruits meet for repentance.' I'm proud of you that you gave the young aristocrat such a wholesome lesson in regard to genuine American manhood and womanhood." Mrs. Vosburgh's reception of her husband was a blending of welcome and reproaches. What right had he to overwhelm them with anxiety, etc., etc.? "The right of about a million men who are taking part in the struggle," he replied, laughing at her good-naturedly. "But I can't permit or endure it any longer," said his wife, and there was irritation in her protest. "Well, my dear," he replied, with a shrug, "I must remain among the eccentric millions who continue to act according to their own judgment." "Mamma!" cried Marian, who proved that she was getting well by a tendency to speak sharply, "do you wish papa to be poorer-spirited than any of the million? What kind of a man would he be should he reply, 'Just as you say, my dear; I've no conscience, or will of my own'? I do not believe that any girl in the land will suffer more than I when those I love are in danger, but I'd rather die than blockade the path of duty with my love."
"This will not answer," said Mr. Vosburgh, in a tone that quieted both mother and daughter, who at this stage were inclined to be a little hysterical. "A moment's rational thought will convince you that words cannot influence me. I know exactly what I owe to you and to my country, and no earthly power can change my course a hair's breadth. If I should be brought home dead to-morrow, Marian would not have the shadow of a reason for self-reproach. She would have no more to do with it than with the sunrise. Your feelings, in both instances, are natural enough, and no doubt similar scenes are taking place all over the land; but men go just the same, as they should do and always have done in like emergencies. So wipe away your tears, little women. You have nothing to cry about yet, while many have." The master mind controlled and quieted them. Mrs. Vosburgh looked at her husband a little curiously, and it dawned upon her more clearly than ever before that the man whom she managed, as she fancied, was taking his quiet, resolute way through life with his own will at the helm. Marian thought, "Ah, why does not mamma idolize such a man and find her best life in making the most of his life?" She had, as yet, scarcely grasped the truth that, as disease enfeebles the body, so selfishness disables the mind, robbing it of the power to care for others, or to understand them. In a sense Mr. Vosburgh would always be a stranger to his wife. He had philosophically and patiently accepted the fact, and was making the best of the relation as it existed. It was now decided that the family should return at once to their city home. Mr. Vosburgh had a few days of leisure to superintend the removal, and then his duties would become engrossing. The evening before their departure was one of mild, charming beauty, and as the dining-room was partially dismantled, it was Mr. Vosburgh's fancy to have the supper-table spread on the veranda. The meal was scarcely finished when a tall, broad-shouldered man appeared at the foot of the steps, and Sally, the pretty waitress, manifested a blushing consciousness of his presence. "Wud Mr. Vosburgh let me spake to him a moment?" began the stranger. Marian recognized the voice that, from the shrubbery, had given utterance to the indignant protest against traits which had once characterized her own life and motives. Thinking it possible that her memory was at fault, she glanced at Sally's face and the impression was confirmed. "What ages have passed since that June evening!" she thought. "Is it anything private, my man?" asked Mr. Vosburgh, pushing back his chair and lighting a cigar. "Faix, zur, it's nothin' oi'm ashamed on. I wish to lave the country and get a place on the perlace force," repeated the man, with an alacrity which showed that he wished Sally to hear his request. "You look big and strong enough to handle most men." "Ye may well say that, zur; oi've not sane the man yit that oi was afeared on." Sally chuckled over her knowledge that this was not true in respect to women, while Marian whispered to her father: "Secure him the place if you can, papa. You owe a great deal to him and so do I, although he does not know it. This is the man whose words, spoken to Sally, disgusted me with my old life. Don't you remember?" Mr. Vosburgh's eyes twinkled, as he shot a swift glance at Sally, whose face was redder than the sunset. The man's chief attraction to the city was apparent. "What's your name?" the gentleman asked. "Barney Ghegan, zur." "Are you perfectly loyal to the North? Will you help carry out the laws, even against your own flesh and blood, if necessary?" "Oi'll 'bey orders, zur," replied the man, emphatically. "Oi've come to Amarekay to stay, and oi'll stan' by the goovernment." "Can you bring me a certificate of your character?" "Oi can, zur, for foive years aback." "Bring it then, Barney, and you shall go on the force; for you're a fine, strong-looking man,--the kind needed in these days," said Mr. Vosburgh, glad to do a good turn for one who unwittingly had rendered him so great a service, and also amused at this later aspect of the affair. This amusement was greatly enhanced by observing Barney's proud, triumphant glance at Sally. Turning quickly to note its effect on the girl, Mr. Vosburgh caught the coquettish maid in the act of making a grimace at her much-tormented suitor. Sally's face again became scarlet, and in embarrassed haste she began to clear the table. Barney was retiring slowly, evidently wishing for an interview with his elusive charmer before he should return to his present employers, and Mr. Vosburgh good-naturedly put in a word in his favor. "Stay, Barney, and have some supper before you go home. In behalf of Mrs. Vosburgh I give you a cordial invitation." "Yes," added the lady, who had been quietly laughing. "Now that you are to be so greatly promoted we shall be proud to have you stay." Barney doffed his hat and exclaimed, "Long loife to yez all, espacially to the swate-faced young leddy that first spoke a good wourd for me, oi'm a-thinkin';" and he stepped lightly around to the rear of the house. "Sally," said Mr. Vosburgh, with preternatural gravity. The girl courtesied and nearly dropped a dish. "Mr. Barney Ghegan will soon be receiving a large salary." Sally courtesied again, but her black eyes sparkled as she whisked the rest of the things from the table and disappeared. She maintained her old tactics during supper and before the other servants, exulting in the fact that the big, strong man was on pins and needles, devoid of appetite and peace. "'Afeared o' no mon,' he says," she thought, smilingly. "He's so afeared o' me that he's jist a tremblin'." After her duties were over, Barney said, mopping his brow: "Faix, but the noight is warm. A stroll in the air wudn't be bad, oi'm a-thinkin'." "Oi'm cool as a cowcumber," remarked Sally. "We'll wait for ye till ye goes out and gits cooled off;" and she sat down complacently, while the cook and the laundress tittered. An angry sparkle began to assert itself in Barney's blue eyes, and he remarked drily, as he took his hat, "Yez moight wait longer than yez bargained for." The shrewd girl saw that she was at the length of her chain, and sprung up, saying: "Oh, well, since the mistress invited ye so politely, ye's company, and it's me duty to thry to entertain ye. Where shall we go?" she added, as she passed out with him. "To the rustic sate, sure. Where else shud we go?" "A rustic sate is a quare place for a stroll." "Oi shall have so much walkin' on me bate in New York, that it's well to begin settin' down aready, oi'm a-thinkin'." "Why, Barney, ye're going to be a reg'lar tramp. Who'd 'a thought that ye'd come down to that." "Ah! arrah, wid ye nonsense! Sit ye down here, for oi'm a-goin' to spake plain the noight. Noo, by the Holy Vargin, oi'm in arenest. Are ye goin' to blow hot, or are ye goin' to blow could?" "Considerin' the hot night, Barney, wouldn't it be better for me to blow could?" Barney scratched his head in perplexity. "Ye know what I mane," he ejaculated. "Where will ye foind the girl that tells all she knows?" "O Sally, me darlint, what's the use of batin' around the bush? Ye know that a cat niver looked at crame as oi look on ye," said Barney, in a wheedling tone, and trying the tactics of coaxing once more. He sat down beside her and essayed with his insinuating arm to further his cause as his words had not done. "Arrah, noo, Barney Ghegan, what liberties wud ye be takin' wid a respectable girl?" and she drew away decidedly. He sprung to his feet and exploded in the words: "Sally Maguire, will ye be me woife? By the holy poker! Answer, yis or no." Sally rose, also, and in equally pronounced tones replied: "Yes, Barney Ghegan, I will, and I'll be a good and faithful one, too. It's yeself that's been batin' round the bush. Did ye think a woman was a-goin' to chase ye over hill and down dale and catch ye by the scruff of the neck? What do ye take me for?" "Oi takes ye for better, Sally, me darlint;" and then followed sounds suggesting the popping of a dozen champagne corks. Mr. Vosburgh, his wife, and Marian had been chatting quietly on the piazza, unaware of the scene taking place in the screening shrubbery until Barney's final question had startled the night like a command to "stand and deliver." Repressing laughter with difficulty they tiptoed into the house and closed the door. _ |
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