Battle Ground
Page 27
VII
"I WAIT MY TIME"
When he returned to Winchester it was to find Virginia already there asJack Morson's wife. Since her marriage in late summer she had followed herhusband's regiment from place to place, drifting at last to a big yellowhouse on the edge of the fiery little town. Dan, passing along the streetone day, heard his name called in a familiar voice, and turned to find herlooking at him through the network of a tall, wrought-iron gate.
"Virginia! Bless my soul! Where's Betty?" he exclaimed amazed.
Virginia left the gate and gave him her hand over the dried creepers on thewall.
"Why, you look ten years older," was her response.
"Indeed! Well, two years of beggary, to say nothing of eight months of war,isn't just the thing to insure immortal youth, is it? You see, I'm turninggray."
The pallor of the long march was in his face, giving him a striking thoughunnatural beauty. His eyes were heavy and his hair hung dishevelled abouthis brow, but the change went deeper still, and the girl saw it. "You'rebigger--that's it," she said, and added impulsively, "Oh, how I wish Bettycould see you now."
Her hand was upon the wall and he gave it a quick, pleased pressure.
"I wish to heaven she could," he echoed heartily.
"But I shall tell her everything when I write--everything. I shall tell herthat you are taller and stronger and that you have been in all the fightsand haven't a scar to show. Betty loves scars, you see, and she doesn'tmind even wounds--real wounds. She wanted to go into the hospitals, but Icame away and mamma wouldn't let her."
"For God's sake, don't let her," said Dan, with a shudder, his Southerninstincts recoiling from the thought of service for the woman he loved."There are a plenty of them in the hospitals and it's no place for Betty,anyway."
"I'll tell her you think so," returned Virginia, gayly. "I'll tell herthat--and what else?"
He met her eyes smiling.
"Tell her I wait my time," he answered, and began to talk lightly of otherthings. Virginia followed his lead with her old shy merriment. Her marriagehad changed her but little, though she had grown a trifle stately, hethought, and her coquetry had dropped from her like a veil. As she stoodthere in her delicate lace cap and soft gray silk, the likeness to hermother was very marked, and looking into the future, Dan seemed to see herbeauty ripen and expand with her growing womanhood. How many of her racehad there been, he wondered, shaped after the same pure and formal plan.
"And it is all just the same," he said, his eyes delighting in her beauty."There is no change--don't tell me there is any change, for I'll notbelieve it. You bring it all back to me,--the lawn and the lilacs and thewhite pillars, and Miss Lydia's garden, with the rose leaves in the paths.Why are there always rose leaves in Miss Lydia's paths, Virginia?"
Virginia shook her head, puzzled by his whimsical tone.
"Because there are so many roses," she answered seriously.
"No, you're wrong, there's another reason, but I shan't tell you."
"My boxes are filled with rose leaves now," said Virginia. "Betty gatheredthem for me."
The smile leaped to his eyes. "Oh, but it makes me homesick," he returnedlightly. "If I tell you a secret, don't betray me, Virginia--I am downrighthomesick for Betty."
Virginia patted his hand.
"So am I," she confessed, "and so is Mammy Riah--she's with me now, youknow--and she says that I might have been married without Jack, but neverwithout Betty. Betty made my dress and iced my cake and pinned on my veil."
"Ah, is that so?" exclaimed Dan, absent-mindedly. He was thinking of Betty,and he could almost see her hands as she pinned on the wedding veil--thosesmall white hands with the strong fingers that had closed about his own.
"When you get your furlough you must go home, Dan," Virginia was saying;"the Major is very feeble and--and he quarrels with almost everyone."
"My furlough," repeated Dan, with a laugh. "Why, the war may end to-morrowand then we'll all go home together and kill the fatted calf among us. Yes,I'd like to see the old man again before I die."
"I pray every night that the war may end tomorrow," said Virginia, "but itnever does." Then she turned eagerly to the Governor, who was coming towardthem under the leafless trees along the street.
"Here's Dan, papa, do make him come in and be good."
The Governor, holding himself erect in his trim gray uniform, insisted,with his hand upon Dan's shoulder, that Virginia should be obeyed; and theyounger man, yielding easily, followed him through the iron gate and intothe yellow house.
"I don't see you every day, my boy, sit down, sit down," began theGovernor, as he took his stand upon the hearth-rug. "Daughter, haven't youlearned the way to the pantry yet? Dan looks as if he'd been on starvationrations since he joined the army. They aren't living high at Romney, eh?"and then, as Virginia went out, he fell to discussing the questions on allmen's lips--the prospect of peace in the near future; hopes of interventionfrom England; the attitude of other foreign powers; and the reasons for thelatest appointments by the President. When the girl came in again they letsuch topics go, and talked of home while she poured the coffee and helpedDan to fried chicken. She belonged to the order of women who delight infeeding a hungry man, and her eyes did not leave his face as she sat behindthe tray and pressed the food upon him.
"Dan thinks the war will be over before he gets his furlough," she said alittle wistfully.
A shadow crossed the Governor's face.
"Then I may hope to get back in time to watch the cradles in the wheatfield," he remarked. "There's little doing on the farm I'm afraid while I'maway."
"If they hold out six months longer--well, I'll be surprised," exclaimedDan, slapping the arm of his chair with a gesture like the Major's."They've found out we won't give in so long as there's a musket left; andthat's enough for them."
"Maybe so, maybe so," returned the Governor, for it was a part of hisphilosophy to cast his conversational lines in the pleasant places. "PleaseGod, we'll drink our next Christmas glass at Chericoke."
"In the panelled parlour," added Dan, his eyes lighting.
"With Aunt Emmeline's portrait," finished Virginia, smiling.
For a time they were all silent, each looking happily into the far-offroom, and each seeing a distinct and different vision. To the Governor thepeaceful hearth grew warm again--he saw his wife and children gatheredthere, and a few friendly neighbours with their long-lived, genial jokesupon their lips. To Virginia it was her own bridal over again with the fearof war gone from her, and the quiet happiness she wanted stretching outinto the future. To Dan there was first his own honour to be won, and thenonly Betty and himself--Betty and himself under next year's mistletoetogether.
"Well, well," sighed the Governor, and came back regretfully to thepresent. "It's a good place we're thinking of, and I reckon you're sorryenough you left it before you were obliged to. We all make mistakes, myboy, and the fortunate ones are those who live long enough to unmake them."
His warm smile shone out suddenly, and without waiting for a reply, hebegan to ask for news of Jack Powell and his comrades, all of whom he knewby name. "I was talking to Colonel Burwell about you the other day," headded presently, "and he gave you a fighting record that would do honour tothe Major."
"He's a nice old chap," responded Dan, easily, for in the first years ofthe Army of Northern Virginia the question of rank presented itself onlyupon the parade ground, and beyond the borders of the camp a private hadbeen known to condescend to his own Colonel. "A gentleman fights for hiscountry as he pleases, a plebeian as he must," the Governor would haveexplained with a touch of his old oratory. "He's a nice old chap himself,but, by George, the discipline fits like a straight-jacket," pursued Dan,as he finished his coffee. "Why, here we are three miles below Winchesterin a few threadbare tents, and they make as much fuss about our coming intotown as if we were the Yankees themselves. Talk about Romney! Why, it's nocolder at Romney than it was here last week, and yet Loring's men a
reliving in huts like princes."
"Show me a volunteer and I'll show you a grumbler," put in the Governor,laughing.
"Oh, I'm not grumbling, I'm merely pointing out the facts," protested Dan;then he rose and stood holding Virginia's hand as he met her upward glancewith his unflinching admiration. "Come again! Why, I should say so," hedeclared. "I'll come as long as I have a collar left, and then--well, thenI'll pass the time of day with you over the hedge. Good-by, Colonel,remember I'm not a grumbler, I'm merely a man of facts."
The door closed after him and a moment later they heard his clear whistlein the street.
"The boy is like his father," said the Governor, thoughtfully, "like hisfather with the devil broken to harness. The Montjoy blood may be badblood, but it makes big men, daughter." He sighed and drew his small figureto its full height.
Virginia was looking into the fire. "I hope he will come again," shereturned softly, thinking of Betty.
But when he called again a week later Virginia did not see him. It was acold starlit night, and the big yellow house, as he drew near it, glowedlike a lamp amid the leafless trees. Beside the porch a number of cavalryhorses were fastened to the pillars, and through the long windows therecame the sound of laughter and of gay "good-bys."
The "fringe of the army," as Dan had once jeeringly called it, was merrilymaking ready for a raid.
As he listened he leaned nearer the window and watched, half enviously, themen he had once known. His old life had been a part of theirs and now,looking in from the outside, it seemed very far away--the poetry of warbeside which the other was mere dull history in which no names werewritten. He thought of Prince Rupert, and of his own joy in the saddle, andthe longing for the raid seized him like a heartache. Oh, to feel again theedge of the keen wind in his teeth and to hear the silver ring of the hoofson the frozen road.
"Jine the cavalry, Jine the cavalry, If you want to have a good time jine the cavalry."
The words floated out to him, and he laughed aloud as if he had awakenedfrom a comic dream.
That was the romance of war, but, after all, he was only the man who borethe musket.