An Original Belle Part 71

Among the pa.s.sengers were Mrs. Merwyn and her daughters. Dwelling on the condition of her son's mind, as revealed by his letter, she had concluded that she must not delay her departure from England an hour longer than was unavoidable. "It may be," she thought, "that only my presence can restrain him in his madness; for worse than madness it is to risk all his future prospects in the South just when our arms are crowned with victories which will soon fulfil our hopes. His infatuation with that horrid Miss Vosburgh is the secret of it all."

Therefore, her heart overflowing with pride and anger, which increased with every day of the voyage, she had taken an earlier steamer, and was determined to hold her son to his oath if he had a spark of sanity left.

Having become almost a monomaniac in her dream of a Southern empire, she heard in scornful incredulity the rumor of defeat and disaster brought to her by her daughters. All the pride and pa.s.sion of her strong nature was in arms against the bare thought. But at quarantine papers were received on board, their parallel columns lurid with accounts of the riot and aglow with details of Northern victories.

It appeared to her that she had sailed from well-ordered England, with its congenial, aristocratic circles, to a world of chaos.

When the steamer arrived at the wharf, many of the pa.s.sengers were afraid to go ash.o.r.e, but she, quiet, cold, silent, hiding the anger that raged in her heart, did not hesitate a moment. She came of a race that knew not what fear meant. At the earliest possible moment she and her daughters entered a carriage and were driven up town.

The young girls stared in wonder at the troops and other evidences of a vast disturbance, and when they saw Madison Square filled with cavalry-horses they exclaimed aloud, "O mamma, see!"

"Yes," said their mother, sternly, "and mark it well. Even these Northern people will no longer submit to the Lincoln tyranny.

He may win a few brief triumphs, but the day is near when our own princely leaders will dictate law and order everywhere. The hour has air pa.s.sed when he will have the South only to fight;" and in her prejudice and ignorance she believed her words to be absolutely infallible.

Strahan met them as they entered, and received but a cold greeting from the lady.

"Where is Willard?" she asked, hastily.

"Mrs. Merwyn, you must prepare yourself for a great shock. Your son--"

Her mind was prepared for but one great disaster, and, her self-control at last giving way, she almost shrieked, "What! has he taken arms against the South?"

"Mrs. Merwyn," replied Strahan, "is that the worst that could happen?"

A sudden and terrible dread smote the proud woman, and she sunk into a chair, while young Estelle Merwyn rushed upon Strahan, and, seizing his hand, faltered in a whisper, "Is--is--" but she could proceed no further.

"No; but he soon will be unless reason and affection control your actions and words. Your family physician is here, Mrs. Merwyn, and I trust you will be guided by his counsel."

"Send him to me," gasped the mother.

Dr. Henderson soon came and explained in part what had occurred.

"Oh, those Vosburghs!" exclaimed Mrs. Merwyn, with a gesture of unspeakable revolt at the state of affairs. "Well," she added, with a stern face, "it is my place and not a stranger's to be at my son's side."

"Pardon me, madam; you cannot go to your son at all in your present mood. In an emergency like this a physician is autocrat, and your son's life hangs by a hair."

"Who has a better right--who can do more for a child than a mother?"

"That should be true, but--" and he hesitated in embarra.s.sment, for a moment, then concluded, firmly: "Your son is not expecting you, and agitation now might be fatal to him. There are other reasons which you will soon understand."

"There is one thing I already understand,--a nameless stranger is with him, and I am kept away."

"Miss Vosburgh is not a nameless stranger," said Strahan; "and she is affianced to your son."

"O Heaven! I shall go mad!" the lady groaned, a tempest of conflicting emotions sweeping through her heart.

"Come, Mrs. Merwyn," said Dr. Henderson, kindly, yet firmly, "take the counsel of an old friend. Distracted as you naturally are with all these unexpected and terrible events, you must recognize the truth that you are in no condition to take upon you the care of your son now. He would not know you, I fear, yet your voice might agitate him fatally. I do not forbid you to see him, but I do forbid that you should speak to him now, and I shall not answer for the consequences if you do."

"Mamma, mamma, you must be patient and do as Dr. Henderson advises,"

cried Estelle. "When you are calm you will see that he is right.

If anything should happen you would never forgive yourself."

The mother's bitter protest was pa.s.sing into a deadlier fear, but she only said, coldly, "Very well; since such are your decrees I shall go to my room and wait till I am summoned;" and she rose and left the apartment, followed by her elder daughter, a silent, reticent girl, whose spirit her mother had apparently quenched.

Estelle lingered until they had gone, and then she turned to Strahan, who said, with an attempt at a smile, "I can scarcely realize that this is the little girl whom I used to play with and tease."

But she heeded not his words. Her large, l.u.s.trous eyes were dim with tears, as she asked, falteringly, "Tell me the truth, Mr. Strahan; do you think my brother is very ill?"

"Yes," he replied, sadly; "and I hope I may be permitted to remain as one of his watchers. He took care of me, last winter, in an almost mortal illness, and I would gladly do him a like service."

"But you are hurt. Your arm is in a sling."

"My wound is healing, and I could sit by your brother's side as well as elsewhere."

"You shall remain," said the girl, emphatically. "I have some of mamma's spirit, if not all her prejudices. Is this Miss Vosburgh such a fright?"

"I regard her as the n.o.blest and most beautiful girl I ever saw."

"Oh, you do?"

"Yes."

"Well, I shall go and talk reason to mamma, for sister Berta yields to everything without a word. You must stay, and I shall do my share of watching as soon as the doctor permits."

Mrs. Merwyn thought she would remain in her room as she had said, but the fountains of the great deep in her soul were breaking up. She found that the mother in her heart was stronger than the partisan. She MUST see her son.

At last she sent Thomas for Dr. Henderson again, and obtained permission to look upon her child. Bitter as the physician knew the experience would be, it might be salutary. With noiseless tread she crossed the threshold, and saw Marian's pure, pale profile; she drew a few steps nearer; the young girl turned and bowed gravely, then resumed her watch.

For the moment Merwyn was silent, then in a voice all too distinct he said: "Cruel, unnatural mother, to rob me of my manhood, to chain me like one of her slaves. Jeff Davis and empire are more to her than husband or son."

The conscience-stricken woman covered her face with her hands and glided away. As by a lightning-flash the reason why she had forfeited her place by the couch of her son was revealed.

CHAPTER LIII.

"MISSY S'WANEE."

THERE is no need of dwelling long on subsequent events. Our story has already indicated many of them. Mrs. Merwyn's bitter lesson was emphasized through many weary days. She hovered about her son like a remorseful spirit, but dared not speak to him. She had learned too well why her voice might cause fatal agitation. For a time she tried to ignore Marian, but the girl's gentle dignity and profound sorrow, her untiring faithfulness, conquered pride at last, and the mother, with trembling lips, asked forgiveness and besought affection.

Blauvelt arrived in town on the evening of the day just described, proposing to offer his services to the city authorities, meanwhile cherishing the secret hope that he might serve Marian. He at last found Strahan at Merwyn's home. The brother officers talked long and earnestly, but, while both were reticent concerning their deeper thoughts, they both knew that a secret dream was over forever.

Marian came down and gave her hand to the artist soldier in warm pressure as she said, "My friends are loyal in my time of need."

He lingered a day or two in the city, satisfied himself that the insurrection was over, then went home, bade his old mother good-by, and joined his regiment. He was soon transferred to the staff of a general officer, and served with honor and distinction to the end of the war.