Battle Ground

by Ellen Anderson Gholson Glasgow

  IV.

  LOVE IN A MAZE

  Despite Virginia's endeavour to efface herself for her guests, she shoneunrivalled at the party, and Dan, who had held her hand for an ecstaticmoment under the mistletoe, felt, as he rode home in the moonlightafterwards, that his head was fairly on fire with her beauty. She had beensweetly candid and flatteringly impartial. He could not honestly assertthat she had danced with him oftener than with Morson, or a dozen others,but he had a pleasant feeling that even when she shook her head and said,"I cannot," her soft eyes added for her, "though I really wish to." Therewas something almost pitiable, he told himself in the complacency withwhich that self-satisfied ass Morson would come and take her from him. Asif he hadn't sense enough to discover that it was merely because she washis hostess that she went with him at all. But some men would neverunderstand women, though they lived to be a thousand, and got rejected oncea day.

  Out in the moonlight, with the Governor's wine singing in his blood, hefound that his emotions had a way of tripping lightly off his tongue. Therewere hot words with Diggs, who hinted that Virginia was not the beauty ofthe century, and threats of blows with Morson, who too boldly affirmed thatshe was. In the end Champe rode between them, and sent Prince Rupert on hisway with a touch of the whip.

  "For heaven's sake, keep your twaddle to yourselves!" he exclaimedimpatiently, "or take my advice, and make for the nearest duck pond. You'veboth gone over your depth in the Governor's Madeira, and I advise you tokeep quiet until you've had your heads in a basin of ice water. There, getout of my road, Morson. I can't sit here freezing all night."

  "Do you dare to imply that I am drunk, sir?" demanded Morson, in a fury."Bear witness, gentlemen, that the insult was unprovoked."

  "Oh, insult be damned!" retorted Champe. "If you shake your fist at meagain, I'll pitch you head over heels into that snowdrift."

  "Pitch whom, sir?" roared Morson, riding at the wall, when Diggs caught hisbridle and roughly dragged him back.

  "Come, now, don't make a beast of yourself," he implored.

  "Who's a beast?" was promptly put by Morson; but leaving it unanswered,Diggs wheeled his horse about and started up the turnpike. "You've let Beauget out of sight," he said. "We'd better catch up with him," and he set offat a gallop.

  Dan, who had ridden on at Champe's first words, did not even turn his headwhen the three came abreast with him. The moonlight was in his eyes, andthe vision of Virginia floated before him at his saddle bow. He let thereins fall loosely on Prince Rupert's neck, and as the hoofs rang on thefrozen road, thrust his hands for warmth into his coat. In another dress,with his dark hair blown backward in the wind, he might have been acavalier fresh from the service of his lady or his king, or ridingcarelessly to his death for the sake of the drunken young Pretender.

  But he was only following his dreams, and they hovered round Virginia,catching their rosy glamour from her dress. In the cold night air he sawher walking demurely through the lancers, her skirt held up above her satinshoes, her coral necklace glowing deeper pink against her slim whitethroat. Mistletoe and holly hung over her, and the light of the candlesshone brighter where her radiant figure passed. He caught the soft flash ofher shy brown eyes, he heard her gentle voice speaking trivial things withprofound tenderness. His hand still burned from the light pressure of herfinger tips. Oh, his day had come, he told himself, and he was furiously inlove at last.

  As for going back to college, the very idea was absurd. At twenty years itwas quite time for him to settle down and keep open house like other men.Virginia, in rose pink, flitted up the crooked stair and across the whitepanels of the parlor, and with a leap, his heart went after her. He sawGreat-aunt Emmeline lean down from her faded canvas as if to toss her appleat the young girl's feet. Ah, poor old beauty, hanging in a gilded frame,what was her century of dust to a bit of living flesh that had bright eyesand was coloured like a flower?

  When he was safely married he would have his wife's portrait hung upon theopposite wall, only he rather thought he should have the dogs in and lether be Diana, with a spear instead of an apple in her hand. Two beauties inone family--that was something to be proud of even in Virginia.

  It was at this romantic point that Champe shattered his visions by shootinga jest at him about the "love sick swain."

  "Oh, be off, and let a fellow think, won't you?" he retorted angrily.

  "Do you hear him call it thinking?" jeered Diggs, from the other side.

  "He doesn't call it mooning, oh, no," scoffed Champe.

  "Oh, there's nothing half so sweet in life," sang Morson, striking anattitude that almost threw him off his horse.

  "Shut up, Morson," commanded Diggs, "you ought to be thankful if you hadenough sense left to moon with."

  "Sense, who wants sense?" inquired Morson, on the point of tears. "I haveheart, sir."

  "Then keep it bottled up," rejoined Champe, coolly, as they turned into thedrive at Chericoke.

  In Dan's room they found Big Abel stretched before the fire asleep; and asthe young men came in, he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

  "Hi! young Marsters, hit's ter-morrow!" he exclaimed.

  "To-morrow! I wish it were to-morrow," responded Dan, cheerfully. "The firemakes my head spin like a top. Here, come and pull off my coat, Big Abel,or I'll have to go to bed with my clothes on."

  Big Abel pulled off the coat and brushed it carefully; then he held out hishand for Champe's.

  "I hope dis yer coat ain' gwine lose hit's set 'fo' hit gits ter me," hemuttered as he hung them up. "Seems like you don' teck no cyar yo' clothes,nohow, Marse Dan. I'se de wuss dress somebody dis yer side er de po' w'itetrash. Wat's de use er bein' de quality ef'n you ain' got de close?"

  "Stop grumbling, you fool you," returned Dan, with his lordly air. "If it'smy second best evening suit you're after, you may take it; but I tell younow, it's the last thing you're going to get out of me till summer."

  Big Abel took down the second best suit of clothes and examined them withan interest they had never inspired before. "I d'clar you sutney does sethard," he remarked after a moment, and added, tentatively, "I dunno whar deshuts gwine come f'om."

  "Not from me," replied Dan, airily; "and now get out of here, for I'm goingto sleep."

  But when he threw himself upon his bed it was to toss with feverishrose-coloured dreams until the daybreak.

  His blood was still warm when he came down to breakfast; but he met hisgrandfather's genial jests with a boyish attempt at counter-buff.

  "Oh, you needn't twit me, sir," he said with an embarrassed laugh; "to wearthe heart upon the sleeve is hereditary with us, you know."

  "Keep clear of the daws, my son, and it does no harm," responded the Major."There's nothing so becoming to a gentleman as a fine heart well worn, eh,Molly?"

  He carefully spread the butter upon his cakes, for his day of love-makingwas over, and his eye could hold its twinkle while he watched Dan fidget inhis seat.

  Mrs. Lightfoot promptly took up the challenge. "For my part I prefer oneunder a buttoned coat," she replied briskly; "but be careful, Mr.Lightfoot, or you will put notions into the boys' heads. They are at theage when a man has a fancy a day and gets over it before he knows it."

  "They are at the age when I had my fancy for you, Molly," gallantlyretorted the Major, "and I seem to be carrying it with me to my grave."

  "It would be a dull wit that would go roving from Aunt Molly," said Champe,affectionately; "but there aren't many of her kind in the world."

  "I never found but one like her," admitted the Major, "and I've seen a gooddeal in my day, sir."

  The old lady listened with a smile, though she spoke in a severe voice."You mustn't let them teach you how to flatter, Mr. Morson," she saidwarningly, as she filled the Major's second cup of coffee--"Cupid, Mr.Morson will have a partridge."

  "The man who sits at your table will never question your supremacy, dearmadam," returned Jack Morson, as he helped himself to a bird. "There islittle merit in devotion to suc
h bounty."

  "Shall I kick him, grandma?" demanded Dan. "He means that we love youbecause you feed us, the sly scamp."

  Mrs. Lightfoot shook her head reprovingly. "Oh, I understand you, Mr.Morson," she said amiably, "and a compliment to my housekeeping never goesamiss. If a woman has any talent, it will come out upon her table."

  "You're right, Molly, you're right," agreed the Major, heartily. "I'vealways held that there was nothing in a man who couldn't make a speech orin a woman who couldn't set a table."

  Dan stirred restlessly in his chair, and at the first movement of Mrs.Lightfoot he rose and went out into the hall. An hour later he orderedPrince Rupert and started joyously to Uplands.

  As he rode through the frosted air he pictured to himself a dozen differentways in which it was possible that he might meet Virginia. Would she beupon the portico or in the parlour? Was she still in pink or would she wearthe red gown of yesterday? When she gave him her hand would she smile asshe had smiled last night? or would she stand demurely grave with downdropped lashes?

  The truth was that she did none of the things he had half expected of her.She was sitting before a log fire, surrounded by a group of Harrisons andPowells, who had been prevailed upon to spend the night, and when heentered she gave him a sleepy little nod from the corner of a rosewoodsofa. As she lay back in the firelight she was like a drowsy kitten thathad just awakened from a nap. Though less radiant, her beauty was moreappealing, and as she stared at him with her large eyes blinking, he wantedto stoop down and rock her off to sleep. He regarded her calmly thismorning, for, with all his tenderness, she did not fire his brain, and theglory of the vision had passed away. Half angrily he asked himself if hewere in love with a pink dress and nothing more?

  An hour afterward he came noisily into the library at Chericoke and arousedthe Major from his Horace by stamping distractedly about the room.

  "Oh, it's all up with me, sir," he began despondently. "I might as well goout and hang myself. I don't know what I want and yet I'm going mad becauseI can't get it."

  "Come, come," said the Major, soothingly. "I've been through it myself,sir, and since your grandmother's out of earshot, I'd as well confess thatI've been through it more than once. Cheer up, cheer up, you aren't thefirst to dare the venture--_Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona_, you know."

  His assurance was hardly as comforting as he had intended it to be. "Oh, Idare say, there've been fools enough before me," returned Dan, impatiently,as he flung himself out of the room.

  He grew still more impatient when the day came for him to return tocollege; and as they started out on horseback, with Zeke and Big Abelriding behind their masters, he declared irritably that the whole system ofeducation was a nuisance, and that he "wished the ark had gone down withall the ancient languages on board."

  "There would still be law," suggested Morson, pleasantly. "So cheer up,Beau, there's something left for you to learn."

  Then, as they passed Uplands, they turned, with a single impulse, andcantered up the broad drive to the portico. Betty and Virginia were in thelibrary; and as they heard the horses, they came running to the window andthrew it open.

  "So you will come back in the summer--all of you," said Virginia,hopefully, and as she leaned out a white camellia fell from her bosom tothe snow beneath. In an instant Jack Morson was off his horse and theflower was in his hand. "We'll bring back all that we take away," heanswered gallantly, his fair boyish face as red as Virginia's.

  Dan could have kicked him for the words, but he merely said savagely, "Haveyou left your pocket handkerchief?" and turned Prince Rupert toward theroad. When he looked back from beneath the silver poplars, the girls werestill standing at the open window, the cold wind flushing their cheeks andblowing the brown hair and the red together.

  Virginia was the first to turn away. "Come in, you'll take cold," she said,going to the fire. "Peggy Harrison never goes out when the wind blows, youknow, she says it's dreadful for the complexion. Once when she had to comeback from town on a March day, she told me she wore six green veils. Iwonder if that's the way she keeps her lovely colour?"

  "Well, I wouldn't be Peggy Harrison," returned Betty, gayly, and she addedin the same tone, "so Mr. Morson got your camellia, after all, didn't he?"

  "Oh, he begged so hard with his eyes," answered Virginia. "He had seen megive Dan a white rose on Christmas Eve, you know, and he said it wasn'tfair to be so unfair."

  "You gave Dan a white rose?" repeated Betty, slowly. Her face was pale, butshe was smiling brightly.

  Virginia's soft little laugh pealed out. "And it was your rose, too,darling," she said, nestling to Betty like a child. "You dropped it on thestair and I picked it up. I was just going to take it to you because itlooked so lovely in your hair, when Dan came along and he would have it,whether or no. But you don't mind, do you, just a little bit of whiterosebud?" She put up her hand and stroked her sister's cheek. "Men are sosilly, aren't they?" she added with a sigh.

  For a moment Betty looked down upon the brown head on her bosom; then shestooped and kissed Virginia's brow. "Oh, no, I don't mind, dear," sheanswered, "and women are very silly, too, sometimes."

  She loosened Virginia's arms and went slowly upstairs to her bedroom, wherePetunia was replenishing the fire. "You may go down, Petunia," she said asshe entered. "I am going to put my things to rights, and I don't want youto bother me--go straight downstairs."

  "Is you gwine in yo' chist er draws?" inquired Petunia, pausing upon thethreshold.

  "Yes, I'm going into my chest of drawers, but you're not," retorted Betty,sharply; and when Petunia had gone out and closed the door after her, shepulled out her things and began to straighten rapidly, rolling up herribbons with shaking fingers, and carefully folding her clothes intocompact squares. Ever since her childhood she had always begun to work ather chest of drawers when any sudden shock unnerved her. After a greathappiness she took up her trowel and dug among the flowers of the garden;but when her heart was heavy within her, she shut her door and put herclothes to rights.

  Now, as she worked rapidly, the tears welled slowly to her lashes, but shebrushed them angrily away, and rolled up a sky-blue sash. She had worn thesash at Chericoke on Christmas Eve, and as she looked at it, she felt, withthe keenness of pain, a thrill of her old girlish happiness. The figure ofDan, as he stood upon the threshold with the powdering of snow upon hishair, rose suddenly to her eyes, and she flinched before the carelesshumour of his smile. It was her own fault, she told herself a littlebitterly, and because it was her own fault she could bear it as she shouldhave borne the joy. There was nothing to cry over, nothing even to regret;she knew now that she loved him, and she was glad--glad even of this. Ifthe bitterness in her heart was but the taste of knowledge, she would notlet it go; she would keep both the knowledge and the bitterness.

  In the next room Mammy Riah was rocking back and forth upon the hearth,crooning to herself while she carded a lapful of wool. Her cracked oldvoice, still with its plaintive sweetness, came faintly to the girl wholeaned her cheek upon the sky-blue sash and listened, half against herwill:--

  "Oh, we'll all be done wid trouble, by en bye, little chillun, We'll all be done wid trouble, by en bye. Oh, we'll set en chatter wid de angels, by en bye, little chillun, We'll set en chatter wid de angels, by en bye."

  The door opened and Virginia came softly into the room, and stopped shortat the sight of Betty.

  "Why, your things were perfectly straight, Betty," she exclaimed insurprise. "I declare, you'll be a real old maid."

  "Perhaps I shall," replied Betty, indifferently; "but if I am, I'm going tobe a tidy one."

  "I never heard of one who wasn't," remarked Virginia, and added, "you'veput all your ribbons into the wrong drawer."

  "I like a change," said Betty, folding up a muslin skirt.

  "Oh, we'll slip en slide on de golden streets, by en bye, little chillun, We'll slip en slide on de golden streets, by en bye,"

  sang Mammy Riah, in
the adjoining room.

  "Aunt Lydia found six red pinks in bloom in her window garden," observedVirginia, cheerfully. "Why, where are you going, Betty?"

  "Just for a walk," answered Betty, as she put on her bonnet and cloak. "I'mnot afraid of the cold, you know, and I'm so tired sitting still," and sheadded, as she fastened her fur tippet, "I shan't be long, dear."

  She opened the door, and Mammy Riah's voice followed her across the halland down the broad staircase:--

  "Oh, we'll ride on de milk w'ite ponies, by en bye, little chillun, We'll ride on de milk w'ite ponies, by en bye."

  At the foot of the stair she called the dogs, and they came boundingthrough the hall and leaped upon her as she crossed the portico. Then, asshe went down the drive and up the desolate turnpike, they ran ahead of herwith short, joyous barks.

  The snow had melted and frozen again, and the long road was like a grayriver winding between leafless trees. The gaunt crows were still flyingback and forth over the meadows, but she did not have corn for them to-day.Had she been happy, she would not have forgotten them; but the pain in herbreast made her selfish even about the crows.

  With the dogs leaping round her, she pressed bravely against the wind,flying breathlessly from the struggle at her heart. There was nothing tocry over, she told herself again, nothing even to regret. It was her ownfault, and because it was her own fault she could bear it quietly as sheshould have borne the joy.

  She had reached the spot where he had lifted her upon the wall, and leaningagainst the rough stones she looked southward to where the swelling meadowsdipped into the projecting line of hills. He was before her then, as healways would be, and shrinking back, she put up her hand to shut out thememory of his eyes. She could have hated that shallow gayety, she toldherself, but for the tenderness that lay beneath it--since jest as he mightat his own scars, when had he ever made mirth of another's? Had she notseen him fight the battles of free Levi? and when Aunt Rhody's cabin was inflames did he not bring out one of the negro babies in his coat? Thatdare-devil courage which had first caught her girlish fancy, thrilled hereven to-day as the proof of an ennobling purpose. She remembered that hehad gone whistling into the burning cabin, and coming out again had coollytaken up the broken air; and to her this inherent recklessness was clothedwith the sublimity of her own ideals.

  The cold wind had stiffened her limbs, and she ran back into the road andwalked on rapidly. Beyond the whitened foldings of the mountains a deep redglow was burning in the west, and she wanted to hold out her hands to itfor warmth. Her next thought was that a winter sunset soon died out, and asshe turned quickly to go homeward, she saw that she was before AuntAilsey's cabin, and that the little window was yellow from the lightwithin.

  Aunt Ailsey had been dead for years, but the free negro Levi had moved intoher hut, and as Betty looked up she saw him standing beneath the blastedoak, with a bundle of brushwood upon his shoulder. He was an honest-eyed,grizzled-haired old negro, who wrung his meagre living from a blacksmith'strade, bearing alike the scornful pity of his white neighbours and thewithering contempt of his black ones. For twenty years he had moved fromspot to spot along the turnpike, and he had lived in the dignity ofloneliness since the day upon which his master had won for himself thefreedom of Eternity, leaving to his servant Levi the labour of his ownhands.

  As the girl spoke to him he answered timidly, fingering the edge of hisragged coat.

  Yes, he had managed to keep warm through the winter, and he had worn thered flannel that she had given him.

  "And your rheumatism?" asked Betty, kindly.

  He replied that it had been growing worse of late, and with a sympatheticword the girl was passing by when some newer pathos in his solitary figurestayed her feet, and she called back quickly, "Uncle Levi, were you evermarried?"

  "Dar, now," cried Uncle Levi, halting in the path while a gleam of thewistful humour of his race leaped to his eyes. "Dar, now, is you ever hyernde likes er dat? Mah'ed! Cose I'se mah'ed. I'se mah'ed quick'en MarseBolling. Ain't you never hyern tell er Sarindy?"

  "Sarindy?" repeated the girl, questioningly.

  "Lawd, Lawd, Sarindy wuz a moughty likely nigger," said Uncle Levi,proudly; "she warn' nuttin' but a fiel' han', but she 'uz a moughtylikely nigger."

  "And did she die?" asked Betty, in a whisper.

  Uncle Levi rubbed his hands together, and shifted the brushwood upon hisshoulder.

  "Who say Sarindy dead?" he demanded sternly, and added with a chuckle, "shewarn' nuttin' but a fiel' han', young miss, en I 'uz Marse Bolling's bodysarvent, so w'en dey sot me loose, dey des sol' Sarindy up de river. Lawd,Lawd, she warn' nuttin' but a fiel' han', but she 'uz pow'ful likely."

  He went chuckling up the path, and Betty, with a glance at the fadingsunset, started briskly homeward. As she walked she was asking herself, ina wonder greater than her own love or grief, if Uncle Levi really thoughtit funny that they sold Sarindy up the river.