Before the Dawn: A Story of the Fall of Richmond

by Joseph A. Altsheler

  CHAPTER II

  A MAN'S MOTHER

  It was a modest house to which Prescott turned his steps, built twostories in height, of red brick, with green shutters over the windows,and in front a little brick-floored portico supported on white columnsin the Greek style. His heart gave a great beat as he noticed the openshutters and the thin column of smoke rising from the chimney. Theservants at least were there! He had been gone three years, and threeyears of war is a long time to one who is not yet twenty-five. There wasno daily mail from the battlefield, and he had feared that the housewould be closed.

  He lifted the brass knocker and struck but once. That was sufficient, asbefore the echo died his mother herself, come before the time set,opened the door. Mrs. Prescott embraced her son, and she was even lessdemonstrative than himself, though he was generally known to hisassociates as a reserved man; but he knew the depth of her feelings. OneNorthern mother out of every ten had a son who never came back, but itwas one Southern mother in every three who was left to mourn.

  She only said: "My son, I feared that I should never see you again."Then she noticed the thinness of his clothing and its dampness. "Why,you are cold and wet," she added.

  "I do not feel so now, mother," he replied.

  She smiled, and her smile was that of a young girl. As she drew himtoward the fire in a dusky room it seemed to him that some one else wentout.

  "I heard your footsteps on the portico," she said.

  "And you knew that it was me, mother," he interrupted, as he reacheddown and patted her softly on the cheek.

  He could not remember the time when he did not have a protecting feelingin the presence of his mother--he was so tall and large, and she sosmall. She scarcely reached to the top of his shoulder, and even now, atthe age of forty-five, her cheeks had the delicate bloom and freshnessof a young girl's.

  "Sit by the fire here," she said, as she pushed him into an armchairthat she pulled directly in front of the grate.

  "No, you must not do that," she added, taking the poker from his hand."Don't you know that it is a delight for me to wait upon you, my soncome from the war!"

  Then she prodded the coals until they glowed a deep red and the room wassuffused with generous warmth.

  "What is this bundle that you have?" she asked, taking it from him.

  "A new uniform, mother, that I have just bought, and in which I hope todo you credit."

  She flitted about the room attending to his wants, bringing him a hotdrink, and she would listen to no account of himself until she was surethat he was comfortable. He followed her with his eyes, noting howlittle she had changed in the three years that had seemed so long.

  She was a Northern woman, of a Quaker family in Philadelphia, whom hisfather had married very young and brought to live on a great place inVirginia. Prescott always believed she had never appreciated the factthat she was entering a new social world when she left Philadelphia; andthere, on the estate of her husband, a just and generous man, she sawslavery under its most favourable conditions. It must have been on oneof their visits to the Richmond house, perhaps at the slave marketitself, that she beheld the other side; but this was a subject of whichshe would never speak to her son Robert. In fact, she was silent aboutit to all people, and he only knew that she was not wholly like theSouthern women about him. When the war came she did not seek to persuadeher son to either side, but when he made his choice he was always surethat he caused her pain, though she never said a word.

  "Do you wear such thin clothing as this out there in those coldforests?" she asked, fingering his coat.

  "Mother," he replied with a smile, "this is the style now; the shopsrecommend it, and you know we've all heard that a man had better be deadthan out of the style."

  "And you have become a great soldier?" she said, looking at him fondly.

  He laughed, knowing that in any event he would seem great to her.

  "Not great, mother," he replied; "but I know that I have the confidenceof General Lee, on whose staff I serve."

  "A good man and a great one," she said, clasping her hands thoughtfully."It is a pity----"

  She stopped, and her son asked:

  "What is a pity, mother?"

  She did not answer, but he knew. It was said by many that Lee hesitatedlong before he went with his State.

  "Now," she said, "you must eat," and she brought him bread and meat andcoffee, serving them from a little table that she herself placed by hisside.

  "How happens it, mother," he asked, "that this food is still warm? Itmust have been hours since you had breakfast."

  A deep tint of red as of a blush suffused her cheeks, and she answeredin a hesitating voice:

  "Since there was a pause in the war, I knew that sooner or later youwould come, and I remember how hungry you used to be as a growing boy."

  "And through all these days you have kept something hot on the fire forme, ready at a moment's notice!"

  She looked at him and there was a faint suspicion of tears in her eyes.

  "Yes, yes, Robert," she replied. "Now don't scold me."

  He had no intention of scolding her, but his thought was: "Has any otherman a mother like mine?" Then he corrected himself; he knew that theremust be myriads of others.

  He said nothing in reply, merely smiling at her, and permitted her to doas she would. She went about the room with light, easy step, intent onher little services.

  She opened the window shutters and the rich sunlight came streaming in,throwing a golden glow across the brown face of him who had left her aboy and come back a man. She sighed a little as she noticed how greatwas the change, but she hid the sigh from her son.

  "Mother," he asked presently, "was there not some one else in this roomwhen I came in? The light was faint, but I thought I saw a shadowyfigure disappear."

  "Yes," she answered; "that was Helen Harley. She was with me when youcame. She may have known your footstep, too, and if not, she guessed itfrom my face, so she went out at once. She did not wish to be a merecurious onlooker when a mother was greeting her son, come home afterthree years in the war."

  "She must be a woman now."

  "She is a woman full grown in all respects. Women have grown old fast inthe last three years. She is nearly a head taller than I."

  "You have been comfortable here, mother?" he asked.

  "As much so as one can be in such times," she replied. "I do not lackfor money, and whatever deprivations I endure are those of the commonlot--and this community of ill makes them amusing rather than serious."

  She rose and walked to a door leading into the garden.

  "Where are you going?" he asked.

  "I shall return in a few moments."

  When she came back she brought with her a tall young woman with eyes ofdark blue and hair of brown shot with gold wherever the firelight fellupon it. This girl showed a sinuous grace when she walked and sheseemed to Prescott singularly self-contained.

  He sprang to his feet at once and took her hand in the usual Southernfashion, making a compliment upon her appearance, also in the usualSouthern fashion. Then he realized that she had ceased to be a littlegirl in all other respects as well as in the physical.

  "I have heard that gallantry in the face of the ladies as well as of thefoe is part of a soldier's trade, Robert," she replied.

  "And you do not know which requires the greater daring."

  "But I know which your General ought to value the more."

  After this she was serious. Neither of the younger people spoke much,but left the thread of the talk to Mrs. Prescott, who had a great dealto say. The elder woman, for all her gentleness and apparent timidity,had a bold spirit that stood in no awe of the high and mighty. She wasfull of curiosity about the war and plied her son with questions.

  "We in Richmond know little that is definite of its progress," she said."The Government announces victories and no defeats. But tell me, Robert,is it true, as I hear, that in the knapsacks of the slain Southernsoldiers they find pla
ying-cards, and in those of the North, Bibles?"

  "If the Northern soldiers have Bibles, they do not use them," saidHelen.

  "And if the Southern soldiers have playing-cards, they do use them,"said Mrs. Prescott.

  Robert laughed.

  "I daresay that both sides use their cards too much and their Bibles toolittle," he said.

  "Do not be alarmed, Robert," said his mother; "such encounters betweenHelen and myself are of a daily occurrence."

  "And have not yet resulted in bloodshed," added Miss Harley.

  Prescott watched the girl while his mother talked, and he seemed todetect in her a certain aloofness as far as he was concerned, althoughhe was not sure that the impression was not due to his absence so longfrom the society of women. It gave him a feeling of shyness which hefound difficult to overcome, and which he contrasted in his own mindwith her ease and indifference of manner.

  When she asked him of her brother, Colonel Harley, the brilliant cavalrycommander, whose exploits were recounted in Richmond like a romance, sheshowed enthusiasm, her eyes kindling with fire, and her whole facevivid. Her pride in her brother was large and she did not seek toconceal it.

  "I hear that he is considered one of the best cavalry leaders of theage," she said, and she looked questioningly at Prescott.

  "There is no doubt of it," he replied, but there was such a lack ofenthusiasm in his own voice that his mother looked quickly at him. Helendid not notice. She was happy to hear the praises of her brother, andshe eagerly asked more questions about him--his charge at this place,the famous ruse by which he had beaten the Yankees at that place, andthe esteem in which he was held by General Lee; all of which Prescottanswered readily and with pleasure. Mrs. Prescott looked smilingly atMiss Harley.

  "It does not seem fair for a girl to show such interest in a brother,"she said. "Now, if it were a lover it would be all right."

  "I have no lover, Mrs. Prescott," replied Helen, a slight tint of pinkappearing in her cheeks.

  "It may be so," said the older woman, "but others are not like you."Then after a pause she sighed and said: "I fear that the girls of '61will show an unusually large crop of old maids."

  She spoke half humourously of what became in reality a silent but greattragedy, especially in the case of the South.

  The war was prominent in the minds of the two women. Mrs. Prescott hadtruly said that knowledge of it in Richmond was vague. Gettysburg, itwas told, was a great victory, the fruits of which the Army of NorthernVirginia, being so far from its base, was unable to reap; moreover, theArmy of the West beyond a doubt had won a great triumph at Chickamauga,a battle almost as bloody as Gettysburg, and now the Southern forceswere merely taking a momentary rest, gaining fresh vigour for victoriesgreater than any that had gone before.

  Nevertheless, there was a feeling of depression over Richmond. Bread washigher, Confederate money was lower; the scarcity of all things neededwas growing; the area of Southern territory had contracted, the Northernarmies were coming nearer and nearer, and a false note sometimes rang inthe gay life of the capital.

  Prescott answered the women as he best could, and, though he strove tokeep a bold temper, a tone of gloom like that which afflicted Richmondappeared now and then in his replies. He was sorry that they shouldquestion him so much upon these subjects. He was feeling so good, and itwas such a comfort to be there in Richmond with his own people before awarm fire, that the army could be left to take care of itself forawhile. Nevertheless, he understood their anxiety and permitted no showof hesitation to appear in his voice. Miss Harley presently rose to go.The clouds had come again and a soft snow was falling.

  "I shall see you home," said Prescott. "Mother, will you lend me anumbrella?"

  Mrs. Prescott laughed softly.

  "We don't have umbrellas in Richmond now!" she replied. "The Yankeesmake them, not we, and they are not selling to us this year."

  "Mother," said Prescott, "if the Yankees ever crush us it will bebecause they make things and we don't. Their artillery, their rifles,their ammunition, their wagons, their clothes, everything that they haveis better than ours."

  "But their men are not," said Helen, proudly.

  "Nevertheless, we should have learned to work with our hands," saidPrescott.

  They slipped into the little garden, now bleak with winter waste. Helendrew a red cloak about her shoulders, which Prescott thought singularlybecoming. The snow was falling gently and the frosty air deepened thescarlet in her cheeks. The Harley house was only on the other side ofthe garden and there was a path between the two. The city was nowsilent. Nothing came to their ears save the ringing of a church bell.

  "I suppose this does not seem much like war to you," said Helen.

  "I don't know," replied Robert. "Just now I am engaged in escorting avery valuable convoy from Fort Prescott to Fort Harley, and there may beraiders."

  "And here may come one now," she responded, indicating a horseman, who,as he passed, looked with admiring eyes over the fence that divided thegarden from the sidewalk. He was a large man, his figure hidden in agreat black cloak and his face in a great black beard growing bushy andunkempt up to his eyes. A sword, notable for its length, swung by hisside.

  Prescott raised his hand and gave a salute which was returned in acareless, easy way. But the rider's bold look of admiration still restedon Helen Harley's face, and even after he had gone on he looked back tosee it.

  "You know him?" asked Helen of Robert.

  "Yes, I know him and so do you."

  "If I know him I am not aware of it."

  "That is General Wood."

  Helen looked again at the big, slouching figure disappearing at thecorner. The name of Wood was famous in the Confederacy. The greatest ofall the cavalry commanders in a service that had so many, a bornmilitary genius, he was an illiterate mountaineer, belonging to thatdespised, and often justly despised, class known in the South as "poorwhite trash." But the name of Wood was now famous in every home of therevolting States. It was said that he could neither read nor write, buthis genius flamed up at the coming of war as certainly as tow blazes atthe touch of fire. Therefore, Helen looked after this singular man withthe deepest interest and curiosity.

  "And that slouching, awkward figure is the great Wood!" she said.

  "He is not more slouching and awkward than Jackson was."

  "I did not mean to attack him," she said quickly.

  She had noticed Wood's admiring glance. In fact, it brought a tint ofred to her cheeks, but she was not angry. They were now at her own door.

  "I will not ask you to come in," she said, "because I know that yourmother is waiting for you."

  "But you will some other time?"

  "Yes, some other time."

  When he returned to his own house Mrs. Prescott looked at himinquiringly but said nothing.