Three Books in One: A Covenant of Love, Gate of His Enemies, and Where Honor Dwells

by Gilbert, Morris

  That was natural enough, for her father, Samuel Reed, was one of the Southern senators who had led the South down the pathway to secession. Reed was a wealthy man who had gone into politics in his forties and had been as successful there as he had been in the field of business.

  When the dance was over, Taylor came over to say, “You’re starting at the top, Dent, old boy! Brains, beauty, and money! But you’ll have to edge out half the officers in the regiment to get her.”

  Dent grinned rashly. “She’s a woman, isn’t she? I’ll turn my fatal charm on, Captain.” And at once he went away to demand another dance, noting that Miss Reed was not disappointed when he came.

  As he spun her out on the floor, Mary Chesnut said to Colonel Chesnut, her husband, “They make a beautiful couple, don’t they?”

  Colonel Chesnut cast his look on the pair, then shook his head. “Mary, will you give up this eternal matchmaking?” But he added later, “They do look well. But a soldier’s got no business thinking of women before he goes to battle.”

  Mary Chesnut moved her shoulders angrily. “You have no more romance in you than a cabbage, James!”

  As the night wore on, Dent Rocklin maneuvered himself into every dance he could with Leona Reed. It was a matter of guile, for she was highly sought after. When he wasn’t actually dancing with her, he was at the refreshment table imbibing the liquor that flowed quite freely. By ten o’clock, he was beginning to feel the effects of the liquor. When he danced he was not nearly so smooth as he thought, and he laughed more loudly at things that were not really funny.

  The colors of the dresses swirled in front of his eyes in a kaleidoscopic fashion—reds, yellows, and greens. His dances with Leona Reed were as intoxicating as the liquor he consumed, for she spoke of his company urgently and with pride. When she praised him for throwing himself into the glorious struggle to preserve the South they all loved, he felt a glowing sense of exaltation that blotted out all else.

  After eleven o’clock, he was unable to get another dance with Leona. He was on the verge of leaving when Mrs. Chesnut appeared and asked, “Lieutenant, you see that young woman sitting alone? Would you talk to her for a few minutes?”

  “Of course, Mrs. Chesnut,” he said. He moved toward the girl. When he reached her, he bowed and asked, “May I have this dance, miss?” He was surprised when the young woman hesitated. She seemed preoccupied, and he thought that she had not heard him. “My name is Denton Rocklin,” he said in a louder tone. “I’d like to dance with you.”

  The girl looked up with a faraway look in her eyes. “I—I don’t dance very well, Mr. Rocklin,” she said in a small voice.

  “Oh, that’s all right,” Dent said at once. “I’m not any prizewinner myself. But that’s a good band.” He put out his arm, but she seemed to ignore it, so he simply put his arm around her and swept her out on the floor.

  It was a slow waltz, and Dent was aware that the girl was not a good dancer. She did not move easily with him, seemed not able to anticipate his movements. At first it was a matter of steering her around on the floor, and she whispered, “I don’t think I can do it, Mr. Denton.”

  “Oh, sure you can! Be a good time for you to practice.” He looked down at her curiously, for all the girls he knew were accomplished dancers. It was the one skill they made certain to attain! She was, he saw, not over average height, no more than five feet four. Her head was down so he could not see her face plainly, but she looked lovely in her pale blue dress. When she did look up slightly, he saw that she had an attractive heart-shaped face and that her eyes were dark blue. She was not, he decided, a raving beauty, but she was pretty enough. “I didn’t hear your name,” he said when she had begun to dance with more assurance.

  “Raimey Reed,” she said quietly. She kept her head down, seeming to concentrate on her feet. Her hair was long, auburn, with a glint of gold where the light from the chandeliers touched it, and he could smell a hint of lilac scent. She had a beautiful complexion, rich and smooth as a child’s.

  “Raimey? Never heard of a girl named that,” Dent muttered. “Or a boy, for that matter.”

  “It’s my mother’s maiden name.”

  Dent blinked as a thought came to him. “You said Reed? I just met a girl named Leona Reed.”

  “My sister.”

  Her answers were brief, which was somehow disturbing to Dent. He was accustomed to girls who talked much. He began speaking of the war and how glad he was to serve in the Richmond Grays. When she said nothing, he added, “Your sister is a great patriot. I suppose you are, too?”

  Raimey Reed hesitated somewhat awkwardly, then shook her head, the motion sending the mass of auburn hair shimmering over her shoulders. “No, I’m afraid not, Mr. Rocklin.”

  At first Dent thought he had misunderstood her. Looking down he said, “I beg your pardon?”

  “I said I’m not a patriot. I think this war is a terrible blunder.”

  Her words came to Dent clearly, and his reaction was anger. He stopped dead still, leaned back, and snapped, “A blunder!

  You think it’s a blunder for a man to fight for his country?”

  A flush came to the girl’s face. She looked up at his harsh tone but said only, “I don’t think this is the proper place to discuss it, Mr. Rocklin.”

  Dent stood there, trying to sort it all out. His thoughts came slowly, and all he could do was say angrily, “Miss Reed, you’re a disgrace to Southern womanhood! I think you should listen to your sister. She’s the kind of woman a soldier can be proud of!”

  At that moment, a wave of dizziness caught up with Dent, and he was afraid he was going to be sick. “I’ll just leave you here, Miss Reed. I don’t think you’d care to dance with a simple soldier who’s about to offer his life for his country!”

  The speech sounded pompous and stilted even to his own ears, but Dent wheeled around and walked away, leaving the girl standing alone in the center of the floor. Anger boiled up in him, and he muttered, “Little snob! Let her dance with some Yankee!”

  He reached the edge of the dance floor and started for the door, but he was halted when Mrs. Chesnut barred his way, her face stern.

  “What are you doing, Lieutenant?” she demanded. “You’ve left Miss Reed alone!”

  Dent stared at her, standing very straight, and said, “Miss Reed is not sympathetic to the cause—,” he began, but he was cut off by an angry gesture from the woman.

  “Go back and get her at once!”

  “I won’t dance with a—a—”

  “You fool!” Mary Chesnut said, her usually gentle dark eyes sharp with anger. “Go at once and get her!” She leaned forward and whispered in a tight voice, “She’s blind!”

  Dent blinked and turned his head as if the woman had slapped him. He turned and saw that the girl was trying to make her way through the throng of dancers. Her hands were held before her, and her eyes were staring straight ahead.

  “My God!” Dent groaned and at once plunged into the crowd. He upset several couples as he shoved his way toward her, getting rough looks from some of his fellow officers. His legs were unsteady and a cold sweat broke out on his brow, but he did not stop until he got to where the girl was struggling to find her way off the floor.

  He took her arm, saying, “Miss Reed—!”

  “Leave me alone, Mr. Rocklin!”

  He noted that she turned her face to him as she attempted to pull away. He held her firmly. “I’ve got to talk to you!” he muttered, and ignoring her attempts to pull away, he moved her across the floor, sheltering her from the dancers. He was aware that people were looking at them strangely, but it was too late to remedy the thing. He didn’t stop when he got her to the side of the floor, but continued to pull her along. He had been outside earlier and knew that a small balcony lay to the side of the ballroom. He pulled the door open and led her out into the open air, then closed the door.

  “Where is this?” Raimey asked at once. “Please, take me back!”

  “In a
few moments, I will.” Dent stood beside her, taking deep breaths of the air. The music came to them, muted by the door, and he could smell the aroma of the firs that flanked the building. A large magnolia tree grew twenty feet from the balcony, and one of the branches dipped so low that he could smell the sweet richness of the blossoms.

  Finally he released her arm and, turning to face her, said, “This is a small balcony just outside the ballroom.”

  “I want to go back inside.”

  “All right, but first you have to let me say something.”

  Raimey Reed cocked her head very slightly. In the relative silence of the secluded balcony, she heard Denton Rocklin’s voice clearly for the first time. She had known from the first that he was drunk, or almost so. Now she seemed to grow calm. She turned and faced the open lawn, saying nothing. Dent waited, trying to frame some sort of apology, but everything he thought of seemed stupid.

  Suddenly she said, “I’ve never danced before. Not at a real dance.”

  Dent stared at her, not knowing how to answer. Finally he said carefully, “You did very well for your first time. With a little practice, you could be very good.”

  The air caressed her cheeks as she turned slightly and said evenly, “I’m not likely to get much practice. I should have warned you. It wasn’t fair to you.”

  Dent said stiffly, “Miss Reed, anything I say will sound downright dumb, but I am sorry.”

  He stood there, knowing that he had treated her abominably, almost wishing she would turn and rail on him. But she did no such thing. She suddenly lifted her face and smiled. A deep dimple appeared in her left cheek, and it was impossible to tell from her eyes that she was blind. “Let that be a lesson to you, Mr. Rocklin, against taking up with strange women.” Then she said, “Don’t let it upset you. I’m not hurt—and I did get to dance, didn’t I? That’s something, isn’t it?”

  He blew his breath out, saying, “I feel rotten!”

  “That’s because I’m blind,” Raimey said with no particular note in her voice. “You’ve probably treated girls much worse than you treated me, haven’t you?”

  “Why—!” Dent was absolutely floored at her matter-of-fact question. Then he laughed shortly, nodding. “Yes, I have.”

  “Well, you don’t have to add your impoliteness to me to your list of sins. I forgive you.”

  Dent was feeling very strange. “I’ll accept that on one condition.”

  “What condition, Mr. Rocklin?”

  “That you dance with me again.”

  His request disturbed her. Her full lips tightened, and a shadow fell across her cheeks. “You say that because you feel sorry for me,” she said in a voice that was not quite steady. “I’m used to it. People often don’t know that I can’t see, and they make mistakes. Like yesterday a woman came up and asked me to read an address for her. She couldn’t read herself, and when I told her I was blind, she acted as though she’d done something horrible. You don’t have to dance with me. That’s just something you want to do because you feel guilty.”

  Dent said patiently, “You can argue all you want, Miss Reed, but when you run out of argument, I’m going to be standing here waiting for you to dance. Maybe you’re right—that I just want to wash out my guilt. Well, give me a chance to do it, then, will you?”

  Raimey stood there, uncertain for the first time. She had thought that her words would drive Rocklin away, but now she felt his sincerity. She was adept in dealing with people who were awkward about her handicap, but now she felt awkward. Finally she laughed. “All right, just one dance to show that I’m not angry.”

  “Fine!”

  He led her to the floor, and she came into his arms readily. She was not afraid now, and by the end of the dance, she was moving around in his arms with confidence. “Now this next one will be a little faster,” he said. “We’ll see how you do with it.”

  “You said one dance,” she rebuked him with a smile.

  “I lied,” he announced calmly. For the next three dances they moved around the floor.

  Then she said, “I think four dances ought to blot out your guilt, Mr. Rocklin.”

  “I do feel much better,” Dent said and escorted her to the seats. He found Leona waiting for him.

  “Well, I see you’ve met my sister,” she said, looking at him strangely.

  “Yes, Miss Reed.” Dent nodded. He guided Raimey to her chair, then bowed. “I must be off, I’m afraid. Drill begins early. Thank you both for the dances.”

  He moved away, and Leona asked, “How in the world did that happen? You’ve always refused to learn how to dance.”

  “I don’t know. He just asked me and I said yes.” She lifted her face to her sister. “What does he look like, Leona?”

  Leona sat down and took her sister’s hand. “He’s the best-looking man I’ve ever seen. Black hair and dark, soulful eyes.” She smiled, a dimple exactly like Raimey’s peeking out of her cheek, then added, “And he’s got a body like mortal sin!” She laughed when Raimey rebuked her, then grew serious. “I’d think you two would have little to talk about. He’s going off to fight for a cause you think is dead wrong.”

  Raimey said, “It scares me, Leona. To think that he might be killed, along with thousands of others like him. And it can’t make any difference! So many dead, for nothing!”

  Leona had argued with Raimey too many times over this, so she simply said, “Let’s go home, Raimey. It’s late.”

  “All right.” Raimey allowed Leona to lead her to the carriage.

  As she passed across the lawn, she caught the rich smell of magnolia, and she knew that whenever she smelled one of those blossoms, she’d think of her first dance and the man with whom she had shared it.

  CHAPTER 10

  “BECAUSE I’M DIFFERENT!”

  Dulcie was an excellent reader. She had a smooth, clear voice and had been trained by a noted teacher of diction, but she could not disguise her disgust with what she read. The mulatto slave girl loved romances with knights in armor and maidens who were rescued from fire-breathing dragons. She could not understand why her mistress had her read a dull poem again and again. She held the old copy of Graham’s Magazine and stared at the top of the page at the title, “The Arsenal at Springfield.” Noting that it was written by some man named Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, she began reading:

  “This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling,

  Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms;

  But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing

  Startles the villages with strange alarms. “

  She waded through several stanzas, all dealing with war and battle, then lowered the magazine and protested, “Miss Raimey, do I have to read this old poem again? I don’t see no sense in it!”

  But her mistress, lying on the floor, said, “Read it.” So Dulcie, giving her head a disgusted shake, went back to the poem. When she finished and was about to close the book, she heard a muffled voice. “Read the last two stanzas again, Dulcie.” Knowing that argument was useless, she read the words:

  “Down the dark future, through long generations,

  The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease;

  And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations,

  I hear once more the voice of Christ say, ‘Peace!’

  Peace! and no longer from its brazen portals

  The blast of War’s great organ shakes the skies!

  But beautiful as songs of the immortals,

  The holy melodies of love arise. “

  Raimey gave a slight shiver as the last line fell across the quiet of the room. She had been lying flat on her stomach, her face buried in a pillow, listening to the slave girl read. Now she sat up abruptly, exclaiming, “Isn’t that a marvelous phrase, Dulcie? ‘The holy melodies of love arise.’” Her rich auburn hair fell down her back in masses of curls, and there was a look of pleasure on her wide mouth as she repeated the phrase.

  “I don’t see what’s so great about it,” Dulci
e snapped. “I don’t see why people can’t say what they mean instead of usin’ this poetry! I don’t think it means anything!” A sudden irritation brought creases between her brows, for she took more liberties than any other Reed slave. This stemmed partly from the fact that she had been taught to read as a child, but it came even more from the fact that her duty went far beyond that of the ordinary lady’s maid.

  When Raimey Reed had become blind at the age of seven, Samuel Reed had spent a fortune on doctors, attempting to find a cure for his daughter. When he finally resigned himself that a cure would not be found, he turned his energies to making Raimey as able as she could be to live in the world. Dulcie had been his most successful move. Dulcie had learned to read by “accident.” She had merely sat with the girls while their tutor went over the letters and, to the shock of everyone, learned much faster than Leona. This shook the bottom out of Sam Reed’s theory about black people, which was that they had no soul and were incapable of learning anything except to pick cotton and perform other menial tasks. Reed was, however, a flexible man. When he had Dulcie tested and found out that she was extremely intelligent, he’d made her Raimey’s maid at once.

  The choice had been wise, for Dulcie had become everything to the blind girl. Not only did she function as Raimey’s maid, keeping track of her clothes and fixing her hair, but she served as the girl’s eyes. The two were inseparable, and as Dulcie saw, she spoke. It was through her that Raimey received much of her impression of the world. She could not have had a better guide, for Dulcie was alert and had a natural flow of rather poetic language, enabling her to make anything she saw come alive for her mistress. She could describe things—such as the sweeping flight of a kingfisher swooping down to scoop a minnow from a pond—so graphically that Sam Reed once said, “Blast my eyes! That Dulcie can see more and say more in less time than any human on God’s green earth!”

  Dulcie loved to read. She did it well, and Samuel Reed had filled his home with books of all kinds to feed Raimey’s voracious hunger for knowledge. Every day the smooth, beautifully cadenced voice of the maid could be heard in the Reed house, and Raimey’s mother had said more than once,