CHAPTER III.
TRUE TO ONE'S COLORS.
THERE was a week of great excitement at Brookside. Head-quarters wereestablished on the confines of the town to render it accessible toTaunton and the adjacent places. Hundreds thronged the camp daily;uniforms were sent down, and drilling commenced in good earnest.
Kathie began school on Monday morning. A large, pleasant room had beenobtained, and Mrs. Wilder opened with ten young ladies, though nearly asmany more had been enrolled.
"I feel as if I were drafted," she declared to Uncle Robert. "I know itis my duty to go and do the best that I can, but I would so much ratherhave remained at home."
"You find, then, that no one is quite exempt from the warfare?" and hesmiled. "Still, I think I can trust you to be a good soldier."
"I am second in the regiment," she said. "Mr. Morrison must always standfirst."
It seemed very quiet and lonesome in that large room, where you were putupon your honor not to speak, and the silence was broken only by therecitations, or some remark of Mrs. Wilder. A long, dull day, though thesession closed at two, there being no intermission.
Lottie Thorne was the only girl Kathie was well acquainted with. Thatambitious young lady had pleaded very hard for boarding-school, and,being disappointed, was rather captious and critical. Emma Lauriston satnext to her, and Kathie fancied she might like her very much. She hadmet her in the summer at the rowing-matches.
But she was glad enough to get home. Rob had his head full of CampSchuyler, and Freddy had arrayed himself in gorgeous regimentals and satout on a post drumming fearfully.
"I want a little more talk about this substitute business," said UncleRobert, at the table. "Mr. Morrison offered to go for seven hundreddollars. He has three hundred of his own. Now what do you think we oughtto give him?"
He addressed the question more particularly to Rob and Kathie.
Rob considered. In his boy's way of thinking he supposed what any oneasked was enough.
"Would a thousand dollars be too much?" Kathie ventured, timidly. "Itdoesn't seem to me that any money could make up to Ethel for--"
There Kathie stopped.
"He will come back," exclaimed Rob.
"We were talking over Ethel's future this morning. Mr. Morrison wouldlike to have her educated for a teacher. I am to be appointed herguardian in case of any misfortune."
"It ought not to be less than a thousand," said Aunt Ruth.
"I thought so myself. And I believe I shall pledge my word to provide ahome for Ethel in case of any change at her uncle's."
Kathie's deep, soft eyes thanked him.
The next day the bargain was concluded. Mr. Morrison handed his smallsum over to Mr. Conover for safe-keeping, and the whole amount, thirteenhundred dollars, was placed at interest. Then he reported himself atCamp Schuyler for duty.
Kathie tried bravely to like her school, but home was so much dearer andsweeter. It was quite hard after her desultory life, and spasmodicstudying made so very entertaining by Uncle Robert's explanations, tocome down to methodical habits and details. She meant to be a goodsoldier, even if it did prove difficult in the early marches.
But this week was one of events. On Thursday afternoon Mr. Meredithsurprised them all again. It seemed to Kathie that there was somethingunusual in his face. Uncle Robert was absent on important business, andat first he appeared rather disappointed.
"It is such a glorious afternoon, Kitty, that I think you will have toinvite me out to drive, by way of comfort. Are the ponies in goodorder?"
"Yes, and at home. How fortunate that Rob did not take them!"
Kathie ordered them at once.
"You have had great doings here. So you came near losing your dearuncle, my child?"
Kathie winked away a tear. There would always be a tender little spot inher heart concerning the matter.
"It is best under the circumstances," was Mr. Meredith's grave comment."I should not want him to go."
They took their seats in the phaeton. "Where shall we drive?" Kathieasked. "To--" breaking off her sentence with a little blush.
"Miss Darrell is away from home. It is owing to that circumstance thatyou are called upon to entertain me"; and he laughed a little, but lessgayly than usual.
It was a soft, lovely autumn day, full of whisperings of oaks and pinesand cedars, fragmentary chirps of birds, and distant river music, Kathiedrew a few long breaths of perfect content, then with her usualconsideration for others she stole a shy glance to see if Mr. Meredithwas enjoying it as well, he was so very quiet.
"I am afraid something troubles you," she said, softly; and her voicesounded as if it might have been a rustle of maple branches close athand. "Is it about Uncle Robert?"
"No, child," in a grave, reflective tone; "it is--about myself."
She did not like to question him as she would have done with UncleRobert.
"Kitten," he began, presently, "I have been thinking this good while,and thinking slowly. A great many things puzzle me, and all myperplexities have culminated at last in one grand step; but whether I amquite prepared for it--"
The sentence was a labyrinth to Kathie, and she was not quite sure thatshe held the clew.
"I am going to enlist--at least, I am going out for three months--withmy regiment. They have volunteered, most of them."
"And what troubles you?" in her sweet, tender voice, and glancing upwith an expression that no other eyes save Kathie Alston's could havehad.
"Child," he asked, "how did you stand fire last winter when you were sosuddenly brought to the front? About the singing, I mean."
She understood. He referred to the Sunday evening at Mrs. Meredith'swhen she had refused to join Ada in singing songs. The remembered painstill made her shiver.
"There _is_ something about you, Kathie, just a little different fromother children,--other girls. You often carry it in your face; and forthe life of me I cannot help thinking how the wise virgins must havebeen illuminated with their tiny lamps while the others stood indarkness. Is it a natural gift or grace?"
She knew now what he meant. She was called upon to give testimony here,and it was almost as hard as in Mrs. Meredith's grand drawing-room. Shefelt the warm blood throbbing through every pulse.
"You did a brave thing that night, little girl. I shall never forgetit--never. _Can_ you answer my question? What _is_ it?"
She could only think of one thing, one sentence, amid the whirl andconfusion of ideas and the girlish shrinking back,--"The love of Christconstraineth us."
"It wasn't merely your regard for your mother or Uncle Robert?"
"It was _all_,"--in her simple, earnest fashion.
"I'm going out there, Kathie," nodding his head southward, "to standsome pretty hard fire, doubtless. I am not afraid of physical pain, northe dropping out of life, though existence never was sweeter than now;but if, in the other country, the record of my useless years rises sharpagainst me, what shall I answer? I have never tried to do anything forthe glory of God! Child, you shame all our paltry lives!"
"O, don't!" with a suggestion of pain in her voice; "what I can do issuch a very little."
She would never know how the simple acts of her life, springing from thehidden centre that was deeper even than her every-day thought, was tobear fruit on wide-spread branches.
"And yet we--I--do nothing. I should have to go empty-handed."
She cast about for some words of comfort. As girl or woman Kathie Alstonwould never be able to realize all the frivolousness, to say nothing ofvanity, selfishness, and deeper sins, crowded into this man's life,which still looked so fair by outward comparison with others.
"Ever since Mr. Morrison offered to go in Uncle Robert's place thisverse has been lingering in my mind: 'Greater love hath no man thanthis, that a man lay down his life for his friends.' It seems to me thatit doesn't mean physical life altogether, but all the times and placeswhen we take something precious out of our own lives and put it intothat of others. And every man who g
oes now may be called upon to sufferin some other's stead. If he do it bravely, is it not a little of thegood fruit? I can't explain all I mean, only just as the Saviour lovedus we ought to love every one else."
Edward Meredith had listened to many an eloquent sermon, and dissectedit in a purely intellectual fashion, his heart never warming with anyinward grace, or hungering after the true bread. But he understood nowthe secret of this little girl's life. Not doctrine, not so much creed,or form, or rule, "but the taking something precious out of her dailyexistence and noiselessly placing it in that of others." And the samelove which enabled her to do this rendered her brave, pure, and sweet. Achild's religion, that a year or two ago he would have sneered at, andnow he had come to learn of her because he was too proud to ask others,and perhaps ashamed.
"But you had a substitute!" she said, presently, bethinking herself.
"Yes. He has served his time out honorably, has had the good fortune tocome home without harm of any kind. You remember how Mackenzie banteredme last winter, though he was in dead earnest. But the country is at herextremest need now; if Grant, Sherman, and our other generals, arestrengthened by good reinforcements, it seems to me that in six monthswe might have peace. I have done a good deal of holiday soldiering in mylife, but this is to be sober earnest."
He looked as if it might be.
"When will you go?"
"We start for Washington on Saturday morning."
"So soon! Does--Miss Jessie know?" Kathie could not help but ask it,though the lids trembled over her shy, downcast eyes.
"She should have received my note this morning. I suppose she did not,or she would have been at home. Kathie, I ought to thank you for yourrare delicacy in keeping our secret. There are some matters that onedoes not like to have talked about."
What would Miss Jessie say? Of course she loved Mr. Meredith very much.Kathie's heart ached a little in silence, but this was one of theburdens that could not be borne by another.
On they went through lovely scenery, now and then catching a glimpse ofthe river that wound around like a silver cord through its bed of green.Here in the stillness they heard the chatter of squirrels and the soundof dropping nuts, or an autumn-tinted leaf went floating on the air likesome gorgeous bird with his wings all aflame. Golden-rod and greatclumps of purple Michaelmas daisies starred the roadside, with frequentclusters of scarlet sumach, pendent bitter-sweet berries with the stillglossy green leaves, and the dark tint of spruce and fir.
Kathie began to realize how her heart and intellect had expanded. Shewas no longer a little girl. How she had grown within and without was agreat mystery, as well as how her soul had enriched itself with drawingnear to others, and going forth again with the sweet, half-comprehendingsympathies of girlhood.
"I have been a dull companion," Mr. Meredith said, at length. "But,Kathie, I shall never forget the happy days I have spent at Cedarwood.To have known you is one of the bright events in my life."
They were coming up the avenue, and saw Uncle Robert standing on thebroad porch. She might never have another opportunity to speak, and hehad been so peculiarly serious this afternoon.
"O Mr. Meredith, you won't forget--when you are out there--that there isanother service, and another Captain--"
"Pray for me, Kathie, that I may be one of His faithful soldiers to mylife's end."
She ran up stairs afterward, and the two gentlemen had a long talk inthe library. After supper Mr. Meredith said good by, as he expected toleave the Darrells' to take the early morning train.
"I do believe everybody is going to war!" exclaimed Rob, ratherruefully. "I wonder if we shall ever have such good times again."
Rob spent the next forenoon in packing.
"How all these things are to be gotten into one trunk I cannot imagine!"he exclaimed, in despair.
"I fancy that you had better put the clothes in first, and leave the'things,' as you call them, until the last," said Aunt Ruth, with aquiet smile.
"But I shall want them all, I'm sure."
"Not your whole tool-chest!"
"Some of the articles would come in so handy."
"To assist you in learning your lessons?" asked his mother.
"O, you know what I mean. Now, mother, you won't let Freddy meddle withthem while I am gone,--will you? He always does manage to get intoeverything."
"The best way will be to put all that you can in the closet of yourplay-room, and give Uncle Robert the key. Lock all your drawers aswell."
One would have fancied that Rob was going to Europe, to say the veryleast. After he had tumbled the articles in and out about twenty times,he concluded that he would go down to the stable to see about sometrifle.
So his mother soon had the trunk in order, though she quietly restoredhalf the "traps" to their place in the play-room, and I doubt if Robever missed them.
Saturday was another very busy time with him. He had to take a farewellglimpse of Camp Schuyler, to visit hosts of the boys, to take a lastrow, a last ride, a last game of ball, and one might have imagined fromall these preparations that he was about to enter a dungeon and leavethe cheerful ways of life behind.
But Rob was beginning to have quite serious moods occasionally; and thelast Sunday at home was one of them. He did not feel nor understand thetransition state as keenly as Kathie, he was such a thorough, careless,rollicking boy. He would play until the last gasp,--"until whiskersbegan to sprout," he said,--and he would make one of the men to whomrecollections of boyish fun would always be sweet.
The sermon in the morning touched him a little, and then the talk withCharlie Darrell. The Darrells felt very badly over the present loss oftheir dear friend; and Kathie just pressed Miss Jessie's fingers, butspoke no word.
"I do mean to _try_," Rob said, that evening, to Kathie. "It seemsalmost as if I were really going to war, as well as the rest of them."
"Yes," she answered, gravely; "you will find enough fighting todo,--foes without and within."
"I have learned some things, though,"--with a confident nod,--"and Ishall never forget about the giants. What odd times we have had, Kathie,from first to last!"
"I wonder if you will be homesick?"
"Pshaw! No. A great boy like me! No doubt there'll be lots of fun."
"But I hope you will not get into any troubles or scrapes. O Rob! it isreal difficult to always do just what is right, when oftentimes wrongthings seem so much pleasanter."
"I wonder why it is, Kathie? It always looked rather hard to me. Whydidn't God make the wrong so that you could see it plainly?"
"If we see it, that is sufficient. Maybe if we kept looking at itsteadily it would grow larger; but you know we often turn to thepleasant side when we should be watching the danger."
"I don't believe that I can ever be real good; but I'll never tell alie, nor be mean, nor shirk, nor cheat! I want to be a real splendid manlike Mr. Meredith!"
Rob would never outgrow that boyish admiration. Edward Meredith wouldhave felt a good deal humbled if he had known how this boy magnifiedsome of his easy-going ways into virtues.
They had a sweet, sad time singing in the evening. Kathie had begun toplay very nicely, with a great deal of expression and tenderness; andto-night all the breaks, all the farewells, and the loneliness to come,seemed to be struggling in her soul. She was glad that no one saw herface, for now and then a tear dropped unbidden.
Rob and his mother had their last talk at bed-time. Her heart was sadenough at the thought of the nine months' absence, for at Westbury therewere no short vacations. True, she would have the privilege of visitinghim, but such interviews must, of necessity, be brief.
He lay awake a long while, thinking and resolving. How many times he had"tried to be good." Why couldn't he remember? What was it that helpedhis mother, and Uncle Robert, and Kathie? The grace of God; but then howwas one to get this grace?
Wandering off into the fields of theology, Rob fell asleep, and neverhad another thought until the breakfast-bell rang. Then, as he recalledhi
s perplexity, he said slowly to himself, "I don't believe religioncomes natural to boys."
The parting was sad, after all. A thousand thoughts rushed into hismind. What if he should be homesick? Here was the roomy playhouse, withits store of tools, books in abundance, the ponies, the lake, theboys,--O, everything! and Rob's fast-coming breath was one great sob.
"A good soldier," Kathie whispered, as his arms were round her neck.
Uncle Robert did not return until the next day. The accounts were veryencouraging. Clifton Hall had taken Rob's fancy at once. The boys werecoming in on Monday; so there was little done beside fraternizing andbeing classified and shown to their dormitories. He had written a littlescrap of a note stating that "everything was lovely."
They missed him very much. Kathie began to wonder if _her_ winterwouldn't be lonesome. No gay Mr. Meredith to drop in upon them now andthen; no noisy, merry boys such as had haunted the grounds all summer.She began to feel sadly disconsolate.
But she rallied presently. "I must fight as well as my soldiers," shesaid to herself.
The next event was Mr. Morrison's departure. Uncle Robert took bothfamilies over the day they "broke camp."
Mr. Morrison wrung Uncle Robert's hand warmly. "It will be all right,whatever comes," he said. "If I had not gone for you I should have doneit for some one else, so never give yourself an anxious thought aboutit. I know my little lass is in good hands."
He kissed Ethel many, many times, and she clung to him with an almostbreaking heart. Kathie's quick eyes saw a duty here.
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