An Original Belle

by Edward Payson Roe

  FOR a time Merwyn did keep quiet, but he soon began to mutterbrokenly and unintelligibly. Marian tried to remove her hand toaid the physician a moment, but she felt the feeble tightening ofhis clasp, and he cried, "No, no!"

  This, for days, was the last sign he gave of intelligent comprehensionof what was going on around him.

  "We must humor him as far as we can in safety," the doctor remarked,in a low whisper, and so began the battle for life.

  Day was now dawning, and Thomas was despatched for a very skilfulsurgeon, who came and gave the help of long experience.

  At last Dr. Henderson joined Mr. Vosburgh in the breakfast-room, andthe latter sent a cup of coffee to his daughter by the physician,who said, when he returned: "I think it would be well for me toknow something about Mr. Merwyn's experience during the past fewdays. I shall understand his condition better if I know the causeswhich led to it."

  Mr. Vosburgh told him everything.

  "Well," said the doctor, emphatically, "we should do all withinhuman effort to save such a young fellow."

  "I feel that I could give my life to save him," Mr. Vosburgh added.

  Hours passed, and Merwyn's delirium became more pronounced. Hereleased his grasp on Marian's hand, and tossed his arms as if inthe deepest trouble, his disordered mind evidently reverting tothe time when life had been so dark and hopeless.

  "Chained, chained," he would mutter. "Cruel, unnatural mother, tochain her son like a slave. My oath is eating out my very heart.SHE despises me as a coward. Oh if she knew what I was facing!"and such was the burden of all his broken words.

  The young girl now learned the secret which had been so longunfathomed. Vainly, with streaming eyes, she tried at first toreassure him, but the doctor told her it was of no use, the fevermust take its course. Yet her hand upon his brow and cheek oftenseemed to have a subtle, quieting spell.

  Mr. Vosburgh felt that, whatever happened, he must attend to hisduties. Therefore he went to headquarters and learned that thecrisis of the insurrection had passed. The Seventh Regiment was onduty, and other militia organizations were near at hand.

  He also related briefly how he had been driven from his home on theprevious night, and was told that policemen were in charge of thebuilding. Having received a permit to enter it, he sent his despatchto Washington, also a quieting telegram to his wife, assuring herthat all danger was past.

  Then he went to his abandoned home and looked sadly on the havocthat had been made. Nearly all light articles of value had beencarried away, and then, in a spirit of revenge, the rioters haddestroyed and defaced nearly everything. His desk had been broken,but the secret drawer remained undiscovered. Having obtained hisprivate papers, he left the place, and, as it was a rented house,resolved that he would not reside there again.

  On his return to Merwyn's home, the first one to greet him wasStrahan, his face full of the deepest solicitude.

  "I have just arrived," he said. "I first went to your house and wasoverwhelmed at seeing its condition; then I drove here and haveonly learned enough to make me anxious indeed. O my accursed woundand fever! They kept the fact of the riot from me until this morning,and then I learned of it almost by accident, and came instantly inspite of them."

  "Mr. Strahan, I entreat you to be prudent. I am overwhelmed withtrouble and fear for Merwyn, and I and mine must cause no moremischief. Everything is being done that can be, and all must bepatient and quiet and keep their senses."

  "Oh, I'm all right now. As Merwyn's friend, this is my place.Remember what he did for me."

  "Very well. If you are equal to it I shall be glad to have youtake charge here. As soon as I have learned of my daughter's andMerwyn's welfare I shall engage rooms at the nearest hotel, and, ifthe city remains quiet, telegraph for my wife;" and he sent Thomasto Dr. Henderson with a request to see him.

  "No special change, and there cannot be very soon," reported thephysician.

  "But my daughter--she must not be allowed to go beyond her strength."

  "I will look after her as carefully as after my other patient,"was the reassuring reply.

  "It's a strange story, Mr. Strahan," resumed Mr. Vosburgh, whenthey were alone. "You are undoubtedly surprised that my daughtershould be one of Merwyn's watchers. He saved my life last night, andmy daughter and home the night before. They are virtually engaged."

  "Oh that I had been here!" groaned Strahan.

  "Under the circumstances it was well that you were not. It wouldprobably have cost you your life. Only the strongest and soundestmen could endure the strain. Merwyn came to our assistance from thefirst;" and he told the young officer enough of what had occurredto make it all intelligible to him.

  Strahan drew a long breath, then said: "He has won her fairly. Ihad suspected his regard for her; but I would rather have had hisopportunity and his wound than be a major-general."

  "I appreciate the honor you pay my daughter, but there are somematters beyond human control," was the kind response.

  "I understand all that," said the young man, sadly; "but I canstill be her loyal friend, and that, probably, is all that I evercould have been."

  "I, at least, can assure you of our very highest esteem and respect,Mr. Strahan;" and after a few more words the gentlemen parted.

  The hours dragged on, and at last Dr. Henderson insisted that Marianshould go down to lunch. She first met Strahan in the sitting-room,and sobbed on his shoulder: "O Arthur! I fear he will die, and ifhe does I shall wish to die, too. You must stand by us both likea loyal brother."

  "Marian, I will," he faltered; and he kept his word.

  He made her take food, and at last inspired her with something ofhis own sanguine spirit.

  "Oh, what a comfort it is to have you here!" she said, as she wasreturning to her post. "You make despair impossible."

  Again the hours dragged slowly on, the stillness of the housebroken only by Merwyn's delirious words. Then, for a time, therewas disquiet in bitter truth.

  All through the dreadful night just described, an ocean steamer hadbeen ploughing its way towards the port of New York. A pilot hadboarded her off Sandy Hook, and strange and startling had been histidings to the homeward-bound Americans. The Battle of Gettysburg,the capture of Vicksburg, and, above all, the riots had been theburden of his narrations.

  Among the passengers were Mrs. Merwyn and her daughters. Dwellingon the condition of her son's mind, as revealed by his letter, shehad concluded that she must not delay her departure from England anhour longer than was unavoidable. "It may be," she thought, "thatonly my presence can restrain him in his madness; for worse thanmadness it is to risk all his future prospects in the South justwhen our arms are crowned with victories which will soon fulfilour hopes. His infatuation with that horrid Miss Vosburgh is thesecret of it all."

  Therefore, her heart overflowing with pride and anger, whichincreased with every day of the voyage, she had taken an earliersteamer, and was determined to hold her son to his oath if he hada 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 disasterbrought to her by her daughters. All the pride and passion of herstrong nature was in arms against the bare thought. But at quarantinepapers were received on board, their parallel columns lurid withaccounts 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 passengers wereafraid to go ashore, but she, quiet, cold, silent, hiding the angerthat raged in her heart, did not hesitate a moment. She came of arace that knew not what fear meant. At the earliest possible momentshe and her daughters entered a carriage and were driven up town.The young girls stared in wonder at the troops and other evidencesof a vast disturbance, and when they saw Madison Square filled withcavalry-horses they exclaimed aloud, "O mamma, see!"

  "Yes," said their mother, sternly, "and mark it well.
Even theseNorthern people will no longer submit to the Lincoln tyranny.He may win a few brief triumphs, but the day is near when our ownprincely leaders will dictate law and order everywhere. The hourhas air passed when he will have the South only to fight;" and inher prejudice and ignorance she believed her words to be absolutelyinfallible.

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

  "Where is Willard?" she asked, hastily.

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

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

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

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

  "No; but he soon will be unless reason and affection control youractions and words. Your family physician is here, Mrs. Merwyn, andI 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 gestureof 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 atmy son's side."

  "Pardon me, madam; you cannot go to your son at all in your presentmood. In an emergency like this a physician is autocrat, and yourson'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 embarrassment, fora moment, then concluded, firmly: "Your son is not expecting you,and agitation now might be fatal to him. There are other reasonswhich you will soon understand."

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

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

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

  "Come, Mrs. Merwyn," said Dr. Henderson, kindly, yet firmly, "takethe counsel of an old friend. Distracted as you naturally are withall these unexpected and terrible events, you must recognize thetruth that you are in no condition to take upon you the care ofyour son now. He would not know you, I fear, yet your voice mightagitate him fatally. I do not forbid you to see him, but I do forbidthat you should speak to him now, and I shall not answer for theconsequences 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 passing into a deadlier fear, butshe only said, coldly, "Very well; since such are your decreesI shall go to my room and wait till I am summoned;" and she roseand 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 thatthis is the little girl whom I used to play with and tease."

  But she heeded not his words. Her large, lustrous eyes were dim withtears, 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 remainas one of his watchers. He took care of me, last winter, in analmost 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 aswell as elsewhere."

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

  "I regard her as the noblest and most beautiful girl I ever saw."

  "Oh, you do?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, I shall go and talk reason to mamma, for sister Berta yieldsto everything without a word. You must stay, and I shall do myshare 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 breakingup. She found that the mother in her heart was stronger than thepartisan. She MUST see her son.

  At last she sent Thomas for Dr. Henderson again, and obtainedpermission to look upon her child. Bitter as the physician knewthe experience would be, it might be salutary. With noiseless treadshe crossed the threshold, and saw Marian's pure, pale profile; shedrew 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 distincthe said: "Cruel, unnatural mother, to rob me of my manhood, tochain me like one of her slaves. Jeff Davis and empire are more toher than husband or son."

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

  CHAPTER LIII.

  "MISSY S'WANEE."