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An Original Belle, a novel by Edward Payson Roe |
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Chapter 30. The North Invaded |
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_ CHAPTER XXX. THE NORTH INVADED Merwyn could scarcely have believed that he had sunk so low in Marian's estimation as her words at the close of the previous chapter indicated, yet he guessed clearly the drift of her opinion in regard to him, and he saw no way of righting himself. In the solitude of his country home he considered and dismissed several plans of action. He thought of offering his services to the Sanitary Commission, but his pride prevented, for he knew that she and others would ask why a man of his youth and strength sought a service in which sisters of charity could be his equals in efficiency. He also saw that joining a regiment of the city militia was but a half-way measure that might soon lead to the violation of his oath, since these regiments could be ordered to the South in case of an emergency. The prospect before him was that of a thwarted, blighted life. He might live till he was gray, but in every waking moment he would remember that he had lost his chance for manly action, when such action would have brought him self-respect, very possibly happiness, and certainly the consciousness that he had served a cause which now enlisted all his sympathies. At last he wrote to his mother an impassioned appeal to be released from his oath, assuring her that he would never have any part in the Southern empire that was the dream of her life. He cherished the hope that she, seeing how unalterable were his feelings and purposes, would yield to him the right to follow his own convictions, and with this kindling hope his mind grew calmer. Then, as reason began to assert itself, he saw that he had been absent from the city too long already. His pride counselled: "The world has no concern with your affairs, disappointments, or sufferings. Be your father's son, and maintain your position with dignity. In a few short weeks you may be free. If not, your secret is your own, and no living soul can gossip about your family affairs, or say that you betrayed your word or your family interests. Meanwhile, in following the example of thousands of other rich and patriotic citizens, you can contribute more to the success of the Union cause than if you were in the field." He knew that this course might not secure him the favor of one for whom he would face every danger in the world, but it might tend to disarm criticism and give him the best chances for the future. He at once carried out his new purposes, and early in June returned to his city home. He now resolved no longer to shrink and hide, but to keep his own counsel, and face the situation like one who had a right to choose his own career. Mr. Bodoin, his legal adviser, received the impression that he had been quietly looking after his country property, and the lawyer rubbed his bloodless hands in satisfaction over a youthful client so entirely to his mind. Having learned more fully what his present resources were, Merwyn next called on Mr. Vosburgh at his office. That gentleman greeted the young man courteously, disguising his surprise and curiosity. "I have just returned from my country place," Merwyn began, "and shall not have to go there very soon again, Can I call upon you as usual?" "Certainly," replied Mr. Vosburgh; but there was no warmth in his tone. "I have also a favor to ask," resumed Merwyn, with a slight deepening of color in his bronzed face. "I have not been able to follow events very closely, but so far as I can judge there is a prospect of severe battles and of sudden emergencies. If there is need of money, such means as I have are at your disposal." Even Mr. Vosburgh, at the moment, felt much of Marian's repulsion as he looked at the tall youth, with his superb physique, who spoke of severe battles and offered "money." "Truly," he thought, "she must be right. This man will part with thousands rather than risk one drop of blood." But he was too good a patriot to reveal his impression, and said, earnestly: "You are right, Mr. Merwyn. There will be heavy fighting soon, and all the aid that you can give the Sanitary and Christian Commissions will tend to save life and relieve suffering." Under the circumstances he felt that he could not use any of the young man's money, even as a temporary loan, although at times the employment of a few extra hundreds might aid him greatly in his work. Merwyn went away chilled and saddened anew, yet feeling that his reception had been all that he had a right to expect. There had been no lack of politeness on Mr. Vosburgh's part, but his manner had not been that of a friend. "He has recognized that I am under some secret restraint," Merwyn thought, "and distrusts me at last. He probably thinks, with his daughter, that I am afraid to go. Oh that I had a chance to prove that I am, at least, not a coward! In some way I shall prove it before many weeks pass." At dinner, that evening, Mr. Vosburgh smiled significantly at Marian, and said, "Who do you think called on me to-day?" "Mr. Merwyn," she said, promptly. "You are right. He came to offer--" "Money," contemptuously completing her father's sentence. "You evidently think you understand him. Perhaps you do; and I admit that I felt much as you do, to-day, when he offered his purse to the cause. I fear, however, that we are growing a little morbid on this subject, and inclined to judgments too severe. You and I have become like so many in the South. This conflict and its results are everything to us, and we forget that we are surrounded by hundreds of thousands who are loyal, but are not ready for very great sacrifices." "We are also surrounded by millions that are, and I cast in my lot with these. If this is to be morbid, we have plenty of company." "What I mean is, that we may be too hard upon those who do not feel, and perhaps are not capable of feeling, as we do." "O papa! you know the reason why Mr. Merwyn takes the course he does." "I know what you think to be the reason, and you may be right. Your explanation struck me with more force than ever to-day; and yet, looking into the young fellow's face, it seems impossible. He impresses me strangely, and awakens much curiosity as to his future course. He asked if he could call as usual, and I, with ordinary politeness, said, 'Certainly.' Indeed, there was a dignity about the fellow that almost compelled the word. I don't know that we have any occasion to regret it. He has done nothing to forfeit mere courtesy on our part." "Oh, no," said Marian, discontentedly; "but he irritates me. I wish I had never known him, and that I might never meet him again. I am more and more convinced that my theory about him is correct, and while I pity him sincerely, the ever-present consciousness of his fatal defect is more distressing--perhaps I should say, annoying--than if he presented some strong physical deformity. He is such a superb and mocking semblance of a man that I cannot even think of him without exasperation." "Well, my dear, perhaps this is one of the minor sacrifices that we must make for the cause. Until Merwyn can explain for himself, he has no right to expect from us more than politeness. While I would not take from him a loan for my individual work, I can induce him to give much material help. In aiding Strahan, and in other ways, he has done a great deal, and he is willing to do more. The prospects are that everything will be needed, and I do not feel like alienating one dollar or one bit of influence. According to your theory his course is due to infirmity rather than to fault, and so he should be tolerated, since he is doing the best he can. Politeness to him will not compromise either our principles or ourselves." "Well, papa, I will do my best; but if he had a particle of my intuition he would know how I feel. Indeed, I believe he does know in some degree, and it seems to me that, if I were a man, I couldn't face a woman while she entertained such an opinion." "Perhaps the knowledge that you are wrong enables him to face you." "If that were true he wouldn't be twenty-four hours in proving it." "Well," said her father, with a grim laugh, and in a low voice, "he may soon have a chance to show his mettle without going to the front. Marian, I wish you would join your mother. The city is fairly trembling with suppressed disloyalty. If Lee marches northward I shall fear an explosion at any time." "Leave the city!" said the young girl, hotly. "That would prove that I possess the same traits that repel me so strongly in Mr. Merwyn. No, I shall not leave your side this summer, unless you compel me to almost by force. Have we not recently heard of two Southern girls who cheered on their friends in battle with bullets flying around them? After witnessing that scene, I should make a pitiable figure in Captain Lane's eyes should I seek safety in flight at the mere thought of danger. I should die with shame." "It is well Captain Lane does not hear you, or the surgeon would have fever to contend with, as well as wounds." "O dear!" cried the girl. "I wish we could hear from him." Mr. Vosburgh had nearly reached the conclusion that if the captain survived the vicissitudes of the war he would not plead a second time in vain. A few evenings later Merwyn called. Mr. Vosburgh was out, and others were in the drawing-room. Marian did not have much to say to him, but treated him with her old, distant politeness. He felt her manner, and saw the gulf that lay between them, but no one unacquainted with the past would have recognized any lack of courtesy on her part. Among the exciting topics broached was the possibility of a counter-revolution at the North. Merwyn noticed that Marian was reticent in regard to her father and his opinions, but he was startled to hear her say that she would not be surprised if violent outbreaks of disloyalty took place any hour, and he recognized her courage in remaining in the city. One of the callers, an officer in the Seventh Regiment, also spoke of the possibility of all the militia being ordered away to aid in repelling invasion. Merwyn listened attentively, but did not take a very active part in the conversation, and went away with the words "counter-revolution" and "invasion" ringing in his ears. He became a close student of the progress of events, and, with his sensitiveness in regard to the Vosburghs, adopted a measure that taxed his courage. A day or two later he called on Mr. Vosburgh at his office, and asked him out to lunch, saying that he was desirous of obtaining some information. Mr. Vosburgh complied readily, for he wished to give the young man every chance to right himself, and he could not disguise the fact that he felt a peculiar interest in the problem presented by his daughter's unfortunate suitor. Merwyn was rather maladroit in accounting for his questions in regard to the results of a counter revolution, and gave the impression that he was solicitous about his property. Convinced that his entertainer was loyal from conviction and feeling, as well as from the nature of his pecuniary interests, Mr. Vosburgh spoke quite freely of the dangerous elements rapidly developing at the North, and warned his host that, in his opinion, the critical period of the struggle was approaching. Merwyn's grave, troubled face and extreme reticence in respect to his own course made an unfavorable impression, yet he was acting characteristically. Trammelled as he was, he could not speak according to his natural impulses. He felt that brave words, not enforced by corresponding action, would be in wretched taste, and his hope was that by deeds he could soon redeem himself. If there was a counter-revolution he could soon find a post of danger without wearing the uniform of a soldier or stepping on Southern soil, but he was not one to boast of what he would do should such and such events take place. Moreover, before the month elapsed he had reason to believe that he would receive a letter from his mother giving him freedom. Therefore, Mr. Vosburgh was left with all his old doubts and perplexities unrelieved, and Marian's sinister theory was confirmed rather than weakened. Merwyn, however, was no longer despondent. The swift march of events might give him the opportunities he craved. He was too young not to seize on the faintest hope offered by the future, and the present period was one of reaction from the deep dejection that, for a time, had almost paralyzed him in the country. Even as a boy he had been a sportsman, and a good shot with gun, rifle, and pistol, but now he began to perfect himself in the use of the last-named weapon. He arranged the basement of his house in such a way that he could practise with his revolvers, and he soon became very proficient in the accuracy and quickness of his aim. According to the press despatches of the day, there was much uncertainty in regard to General Lee's movements and plans. Mr. Vosburgh's means of information led him to believe that the rebel army was coming North, and many others shared the fear; but as late as June 15, so skilfully had the Confederate leader masked his purposes, that, according to the latest published news, the indications were that he intended to cross the Rappahannock near Culpepper and inaugurate a campaign similar to the one that had proved so disastrous to the Union cause the preceding summer. On the morning of the 16th, however, the head-lines of the leading journals startled the people through the North. The rebel advance had occupied Chambersburg, Pa. The invasion was an accomplished fact. The same journals contained a call from the President for 100,000 militia, of which the State of New York was to furnish 20,000. The excitement in Pennsylvania was intense, for not only her capital, but her principal towns and cities were endangered. The thick-flying rumors of the past few days received terrible confirmation, and, while Lee's plans were still shrouded in mystery, enough was known to awaken apprehension, while the very uncertainty proved the prolific source of the most exaggerated and direful stories. There was immense activity at the various armories, and many regiments of the city militia expected orders to depart at any hour. The metropolis was rocking with excitement, and wherever men congregated there were eager faces and excited tones. Behind his impassive manner, when he appeared in the street, no one disguised deeper feeling, more eager hope, more sickening fear, than Willard Merwyn. When would his mother's letter come? If this crisis should pass and he take no part in it he feared that he himself would be lost. Since his last call upon Marian he felt that he could not see her again until he could take some decided course; but if there were blows to be struck by citizens at the North, or if his mother's letter acceded to his wish, however grudgingly, he could act at once, and on each new day he awoke with the hope that he might be unchained before its close. The 17th of June was a memorable day. The morning press brought confirmation of Lee's northward advance. The men of the Quaker City were turning out en masse, either to carry the musket or for labor on fortifications, and it was announced that twelve regiments of the New-York militia were under marching orders. The invasion was the one topic of conversation. There was an immense revival of patriotism, and recruiting at the armories went on rapidly. At this outburst of popular feeling disloyalty shrunk out of sight for a time, and apparently the invaders who had come north as allies of the peace party created an uprising, as they had expected, but it was hostile to them. The people were reminded of the threats of the Southern leaders. The speech of Jeff Davis in the winter of 1860-61 was quoted: "If war should result from secession, it will not be our fields that will witness its ravages, but those of the North." The fact that this prediction was already fulfilled stung even the half-hearted into action, and nerved the loyalty of others, and when it became known that the gallant Seventh Regiment would march down Broadway en route for Pennsylvania at noon, multitudes lined the thoroughfare and greeted their defenders with acclamations. Merwyn knew that Marian would witness the departure, and he watched in the distance till he saw her emerge from her home and go to a building on Broadway in which her father had secured her a place. She was attended by an officer clad in the uniform of a service so dear to her, but which HE had sworn never to wear. He hastily secured a point of observation in a building opposite, for while the vision of the young girl awakened almost desperate revolt at his lot, he could not resist a lover's impulse to see her. Pale, silent, absorbed, he saw her wave her handkerchief and smile at her friends as they passed; he saw a white-haired old lady reach out her hands in yearning love, an eloquent pantomime that indicated that her sons were marching under her eyes, and then she sank back into Marian's arms. "Oh," groaned Merwyn, "if that were my mother I could give her a love that would be almost worship." _ |
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