The Victim: A Romance of the Real Jefferson Davis

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The Victim: A Romance of the Real Jefferson Davis Page 8

by Thomas Dixon


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  The mother's heart rebelled at last. She would not be put off longer.Her baby had been gone two years. She refused point blank to listen toany further argument.

  Charles Green, the young Mississippian, studying law in Kentucky, andacting as the Boy's guardian, was notified to bring him at the end ofthe spring term.

  On a glorious day in June they left Bardstown for Louisville, to takethe new steamboat line for home. These wonderful boats were the marvelsof their day. Their names conveyed but a hint of the awe they inspired.The fleet of three vessels bore the titles, _Volcano_, _Vesuvius_ and_AEtna_. And the sparks that flew heavenward from their black chimneyswere far more impressive to the people who crowded the shores than thesmoke and lava of old Vesuvius to the lazy loungers of Naples.

  The Boy saw his pony safely housed on board the _AEtna_, and amid theclang of bells and the scream of whistles, the floating wonder swung outfrom her wharf into the yellow tide of the Ohio.

  Scores of people crowded her decks for the pleasure of a ride ten milesdown the river to return in their carriages.

  The Captain of the _AEtna_, Robinson DeHart, held the Boy in a spell byhis lofty manners. He had been a sailor on board an ocean-going brig. Tohim the landing of his vessel was an event, no matter how often the stopwas made, whether to put off a single passenger, or take on a regiment.In fact, he never landed the _AEtna_, even to take on a cord of wood,without the use of his enormous speaking trumpet and his big brassspy-glass.

  A beautiful, slow, uneventful voyage on the Father of Waters landed theBoy in safety at the Woodville stopping-place. He leaped down thegang-plank with a shout and clasped his Big Brother's hand.

  "My, my, but you've grown, Boy!"

  "Haven't I?"

  "Won't little mother be surprised and glad?"

  "Let's fool her," the Boy cried. "Let me go up by myself and she won'tknow me!"

  "All right--we'll try."

  The brother stopped at the village and the young stranger walked aloneto his father's house. How beautiful it all seemed--the big log housewith the cabins clustering around it! A horse neighed at the barn and acolt answered from the field.

  He walked boldly up to the porch and just inside the door sat his lovelymother. She had been one of the most beautiful girls in all SouthCarolina in her day, his father had often said. She was beautiful still.She had known what happiness was. She was the mother of ten strongchildren--five boys and five girls--and her heart was young with theirjoys and hopes. A smile was playing about her fine mouth. She wasdreaming perhaps of his coming.

  The Boy cleared his throat with a deep manly note and spoke in studiedcareless tones:

  "Seen any stray horses around here, ma'am?"

  The mother's eyes flashed as she sprang through the doorway and snatchedhim to her heart with a cry of joy:

  "No--but I see a stray Boy! Oh, my darling, my baby, my heart!"

  And then words failed. She loosed her hold and held him at arm's length,tried to say something, but only clasped him again and cried for joy.

  "Please, Ma, let me have him!" Polly pleaded.

  And then he clasped his sister in a long, voiceless hug--loosed her andcaught her again:

  "I missed you, Polly, dear!" he sighed.

  When all the others had been greeted, he turned to his mother:

  "Where's Pa?"

  "Down in the field with the colts."

  "I'll go find him!"

  With a bound he was off. He wondered what his silent, undemonstrativefather would do. He had always felt that he was a man of deep emotionfor all his self-control.

  He saw him in the field, walked along the edge of the woods, andsuddenly came before him without warning. The father's lips trembled. Hestooped without a word, clasped the Boy in his arms and kissed him againand again.

  The youngster couldn't help wondering why a strong man should kiss sobig a boy. The mother--yes--but his father, a man--no.

  It was sweet, this home-coming to those who loved deepest. Somehow themonastery, its bells, its organ, its jeweled windows, and its kindlyblack-robed priests seemed far away and unreal now--only a dream thathad passed.

 

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