Young Captain Jack; Or, The Son of a Soldier
Page 18
CHAPTER XVII.
A SCENE IN THE SUMMERHOUSE.
In years gone by Marion and Harry Powell, as little girl and boy, hadthought a good deal of each other.
Now, as the pair faced once more, much of the old feelings came back,and pretty Marion found herself blushing deeply, she could not tellexactly why.
She despised Harry's uniform, yet she felt that he looked remarkablyhandsome in it, and not such an awful bear of a Yankee, after all. Themanliness of the young surgeon's superior had likewise made a deepimpression upon her.
Before going into the house Mrs. Ruthven had invited the young man toremain to dinner, and he had readily accepted the invitation. But he wasby no means anxious to go into the house with the others.
"It is so nice and cool in the garden, Marion," he said. "Let us remainout here for a while, if you have no objections."
"As you will, Harry. But we need not stand. Let us go down to the oldsummerhouse. Of course you remember that place."
"To be sure, Marion--I remember it only too well. How you used to bringin the flowers and make bouquets and wreaths, and open a flower storeand bid me buy----"
"And you wouldn't buy, more than half the time," she laughed. "Youalways were somewhat contrary, Harry. Is that what made you turnYankee?"
"I hardly think so. I want to see all the slaves set free."
"Is that all?"
"Isn't that enough?"
"Most Yankees want to see the South broken up and ruined."
"No! no! That is a mistake."
The summerhouse was soon gained, and she sat down, and without ceremonyhe took a seat on the bench at her side.
"This takes me back ten or fifteen years," he declared, as he lookedaround at the familiar surroundings. "There are the same old magnolias,with the swing, and the same old rose bush, or new ones just like theold. Marion, you ought to be happy here."
"I was--until the war broke out, and poor papa was killed."
"Yes, that was a shock, and I felt it too, when the news reached me. Hewas a noble man, Marion."
"So they all say, Harry, but that does not give him back to us. And nowanother danger threatens us."
"Another danger? You mean the presence of our troops here? Marion, noharm shall come to you, if I can prevent it."
"But I do not mean that. It is concerning Jack."
"What of your brother?"
"Oh, Harry, he is just like a brother to me, and mamma thinks of him asher son! Now a stranger has appeared on the scene, and he wants to takeJack away from us."
"A stranger. Who?"
"A Confederate surgeon named Dr. Mackey. He claims that he is Jack'sfather."
"But is he?"
"We do not believe that he is. But he says he can prove it."
"This is news certainly, Marion. Will you give me the particulars?"
"I will," and she did so, to which Harry Powell listened with keeninterest.
"Humph! And Jack does not like the man?"
"No, he despises him."
"That will make it awkward, if this doctor's story is true."
"He will have to bring strong proofs to make me believe the story, I cantell you that."
"I do not blame you, Marion." The young surgeon mused for a moment. "Itruns in my mind that I have heard of this Dr. Mackey before."
"Where?"
"I cannot remember now. But I believe it was while I was practicing inPhiladelphia."
"Was he a doctor there?"
"It runs in my mind that he was connected with some bogus medicalinstitute which defrauded people through the mails. But I am notcertain."
"If there is truth in this, I wish you would look the matter up, Harry.Mamma will want to know all she can of Dr. Mackey before she gives upJack to him."
"I will do my best for you, Marion. I love Jack, too--although he wasvery young when I went away, if you will remember."
"You have been away a long time, Harry," she replied, and drew a longbreath.
"That is true, and I realize it now, although I did not before." Hegazed steadily into her face and suddenly caught her hand. "Dear cousin,cannot you forgive me for going over to the enemy?" he pleaded.
She flushed up. "I ought not to, Harry, but--but----"
"You will, nevertheless?"
"I--I will think of it," she faltered.
"We were very intimate when I went away. I would not wish that intimacybroken off."
"Were we intimate?" she murmured shyly.
"Yes, indeed. Don't you remember it? You used to sit in my lap."
"How shocking!" she cried. "Are you sure?"
"As if I could forget it."
"You seem to have an awfully good memory for some things," she saidslowly.
"I remember something more, Marion. We were like brother and sister inthose days, and you used to put your arms around my neck and kiss me."
"I don't believe I ever did anything so dreadful, Harry!"
"I remember it perfectly well."
"Don't you think we had better go into the house now?"
"Don't get angry, Marion. But--but--I always did think a lot of you, andalways shall--even if I have turned Yankee."
"Yankee or not, Harry, you will always be very dear to me as my cousin,"she returned hastily.
"Speaking of cousins, does St. John come here often?"
"Yes, quite often."
"I suppose he comes to see you?"
"He comes to see mamma and me. He and Jack are not very good friends."
"What, doesn't Jack like him?"
"He considers St. John overbearing, and St. John thinks Jack anintruder, and possibly of low parentage."
"Is St. John married yet?"
"No."
"And he comes here quite often, you say?"
"Yes."
"Perhaps he is going--that is, he would like to marry you, Marion,"blurted out Harry Powell.
At this the girl flushed crimson.
"Well--he has spoken something of it," she replied, in a low voice.
"The dickens he has!"
"Cousin Harry!"
"I beg your pardon, Marion, but--but--this is not pleasant news."
"You mustn't get rough, Harry. St. John says there are no true gentlemenamong the Yankees. But I think differently--now I have met ColonelStanton."
"Oh, confound St. John! There are truer gentlemen among my fellowofficers than he will ever be." Harry Powell took a turn around thesummerhouse. "But I forgot. I ought not to have spoken so of your futurehusband."
"Who said he was my intended husband?"
"Why, you intimated as much."
"I am sure I did not."
"It is the same thing. You said he had spoken of marriage to you."
"That is a very different matter."
Harry Powell took another turn around the summerhouse. "I suppose youlove him, though I don't understand how any girl could love such aninsufferable bore."
"Harry, aren't you prejudiced against St. John?"
"Perhaps I am. But seriously, Marion, what can you find to admire in St.John?"
"He is a Ruthven."
"That is true."
"If I married him I would still remain a Ruthven."
"Then why not remain an old maid and likewise a Ruthven? It would be farbetter, take my word on it."
"Then you don't advise me to marry?"
"I don't advise you to marry St. John."
"Oh!"
"Are you engaged to him?" he asked, coming closer.
"I am not."
"I am glad to hear it."
"Are you married, Cousin Harry?" she asked suddenly.
"Me? No, Marion--not yet."
"I suppose you'll marry some Yankee girl one of these days."
"I don't think so, unless----"
"Unless what?"
"Unless the girl I always did love goes back on me, Marion. Do you thinkshe will go back on me?" and he caught both of her hands in his own.
"Harry, you are a--a--Yank
ee."
"But that doesn't affect my feelings for you."
"A true Yankee ought not to care for a Southern girl."
"And why not?"
"Well, I don't know exactly. But it doesn't seem right."
"Do you mean to say that a Southern girl ought not to care for the manwho is fighting as his conscience dictates?" he demanded, turning atrifle pale.
"No, no, Harry! I honor you for sticking to your principles. But we hadbetter say no more at present on this subject." She glanced down thegarden path. "See, St. John is coming. Let go my hands."
He dropped her hands and took a seat on the other side of thesummerhouse, and a moment later St. John Ruthven presented himself atthe doorway.