V
THE WOMAN'S PART
At sunrise on the morning of the battle Betty and Virginia, from thewhitewashed porch of a little railway inn near Manassas, watched theGovernor's regiment as it marched down the single street and into the redclay road. Through the first faint sunshine, growing deeper as the sun rosegloriously above the hills, there sounded a peculiar freshness in themartial music as it triumphantly floated back across the fields. To Bettyit almost seemed that the drums were laughing as they went to battle; andwhen the gay air at last faded in the distance, the silence closed abouther with a strangeness she had never felt before--as if the absence ofsound was grown melancholy, like the absence of light.
She shut her eyes and brought back the long gray line passing across thesunbeams: the tanned eager faces, the waving flags, the rapid, almostimpatient tread of the men as they swung onward. A laugh had run along thecolumn as it went by her and she had smiled in quick sympathy with somefoolish jest. It was all so natural to her, the gayety and the ardour andthe invincible dash of the young army--it was all so like the spirit of Danand so dear to her because of the likeness.
Somewhere--not far away, she knew--he also was stepping briskly across thefirst sun rays, and her heart followed him even while she smiled down uponthe regiment before her. It was as if her soul were suddenly freed from herbodily presence, and in a kind of dual consciousness she seemed to bestanding upon the little whitewashed porch and walking onward beside Dan atthe same moment. The wonder of it glowed in her rapt face, and Virginia,turning to put some trivial question, was startled by the passion of herlook.
"Have--have you seen--some one, Betty?" she whispered.
The charm was snapped and Betty fell back into time and place.
"Oh, yes, I have seen--some one," her voice thrilled as she spoke. "I sawhim as clearly as I see you; he was all in sunshine and there was a flagclose above his head. He looked up and smiled at me. Yes, I saw him! I sawhim!"
"It was Dan," said Virginia--not as a question, but in a wondering assent."Why, Betty, I thought you had forgotten Dan--papa thought so, too."
"Forgotten!" exclaimed Betty scornfully. She fell away from the crowd andVirginia followed her. The two stood leaning against the whitewashed wallin the dust that still rose from the street. "So you thought I hadforgotten him," said Betty again. She raised her hand to her bosom andcrushed the lace upon her dress. "Well, you were wrong," she added quietly.
Virginia looked at her and smiled. "I am almost glad," she answered in hersweet girlish voice. "I don't like to have Dan forgotten even if--if heought to be."
"I didn't love him because he ought to be loved," said Betty. "I loved himbecause I couldn't help it--because he was himself and I was myself, Isuppose. I was born to love him, and to stop loving him I should have to beborn again. I don't care what he does--I don't care what he is even--Iwould rather love him than--than be a queen." She held her hands tightlytogether. "I would be his servant if he would let me," she went on. "Iwould work for him like a slave--but he won't let me. And yet he does loveme just the same--just the same."
"He does--he does," admitted Virginia softly. She had never seen Betty likethis before, and she felt that her sister had become suddenly very strangeand very sacred. Her hands were outstretched to comfort, but Betty turnedgently away from her and went up the narrow staircase to the bare littleroom where the girls slept together.
Alone within the four white walls she moved breathlessly to and fro like awoodland creature that has been entrapped. At the moment she was tellingherself that she wanted to keep onward with the army; then her couragewould have fluttered upward like the flags. It was not the sound of thecannon that she dreaded, nor the sight of blood--these would have nervedher as they nerved the generations at her back--but the folded hands andthe terrible patience that are the woman's share of a war. The old fightingblood was in her veins--she was as much the child of her father as a soncould have been--and yet while the great world over there was filled withnoise she was told to go into her room and pray. Pray! Why, a man mightpray with his musket in his hand, that was worth while.
In the adjoining room she saw her mother sitting in a square of sunlightwith her open Bible on her knees.
"Oh, speak, mamma!" she called half angrily. "Move, do anything but sit sostill. I can't bear it!" She caught her breath sharply, for with her wordsa low sound like distant thunder filled the room and the little streetoutside. As she clung with both hands to the window it seemed to her that agray haze had fallen over the sunny valley. "Some one is dead," she saidalmost calmly, "that killed how many?"
The room stifled her and she ran hurriedly down into the street, where afew startled women and old men had rushed at the first roll of the cannon.As she stood among them, straining her eyes from end to end of the littlevillage, her heart beat in her throat and she could only quaver out anappeal for news.
"Where is it? Doesn't any one know anything? What does it mean?"
"It means a battle, Miss, that's one thing," remarked on obligingby-stander who leaned heavily upon a wooden leg. "Bless you, I kin a'mosttaste the powder." He smacked his lips and spat into the dust. "To thinkthat I went all the way down to Mexico fur a fight," he pursuedregretfully, "when I could have set right here at home and had it all inold Virginny. Well, well, that comes of hurryin' the Lord afo' he's ready."
He rambled on excitedly, but Betty, frowning with impatience, turned fromhim and walked rapidly up and down the single street, where the voices ofthe guns growled through the muffling distance. "That killed how many? howmany?" she would say at each long roll, and again, "How many died thatmoment, and was one Dan?"
Up and down the little village, through the heavy sunshine and the whitedust, among the whimpering women and old men, she walked until the day woreon and the shadows grew longer across the street. Once a man had come withthe news of a sharp repulse, and in the early afternoon a deserterstraggled in with the cry that the enemy was marching upon the village. Itwas not until the night had fallen, when the wounded began to arrive onbaggage trains, that the story of the day was told, and a single shout wentup from the waiting groups. The Confederacy was established! Washington wastheirs by right of arms, and tomorrow the young army would dictate terms ofpeace to a great nation! The flags waved, women wept, and the woundedsoldiers, as they rolled in on baggage cars, were hailed as the deliverersof a people. The new Confederacy! An emotion half romantic, half maternalfilled Betty as she bent above an open wound--for it was in her blood to dobattle to the death for a belief, to throw herself into a cause as into thearms of a lover. She was made of the stuff of soldiers, and come what mightshe would always take her stand upon her people's side.
There were cheers and sobs in the little street about her; in the distancea man was shouting for the flag, and nearer by a woman with a lantern inher hand was searching among the living for her dead. The joy and theanguish of it entered into the girl like wine. She felt her pulses leap anda vigour that was not her own nerved her from head to foot. With that powerof ardent sacrifice which lies beneath all shams in the Southern heart, shetold herself that no endurance was too great, no hope too large with whichto serve the cause.
The exaltation was still with her when, a little later, she went up to herroom and knelt down to thank God. Her people's simple faith was hers also,and as she prayed with her brow on her clasped hands it was as if she gavethanks to some great warrior who had drawn his sword in defence of the landshe loved. God was on her side, supreme, beneficent, watchful in littlethings, as He has been on the side of all fervent hearts since thebeginning of time.
But after her return to Uplands in midsummer she suffered a peculiarrestlessness from the tranquil August weather. The long white roadirritated her with its aspect of listless patience, and at times she wantedto push back the crowding hills and leave the horizon open to her view.When a squadron of cavalry swept along the turnpike her heart would followit like a bird while she leaned, with straining eyes, against a great
whitecolumn. Then, as the last rider was blotted out into the landscape, shewould clasp her hands and walk rapidly up and down between the lilacs. Itwas all waiting--waiting--waiting--nothing else.
"Something must happen, mamma, or I shall go mad," she said one day,breaking in upon Mrs. Ambler as she sorted a heap of old letters in thelibrary.
"But what? What?" asked Virginia from the shadow of the window seat."Surely you don't want a battle, Betty?"
Mrs. Ambler shuddered.
"Don't tempt Providence, dear," she said seriously, untying a faded ribbonabout a piece of old parchment. "Be grateful for just this calm and go outfor a walk. You might take this pitcher of flaxseed tea to Floretta'scabin, if you've nothing else to do. Ask how the baby is to-day, and tellher to keep the red flannel warm on its chest."
Betty went into the hall after her bonnet and came back for the pitcher."I'm going to walk across the fields to Chericoke," she said, "and Hosea isto bring the carriage for me about sunset. We must have some white silk tomake those flags out of, and there isn't a bit in the house."
She went out, stepping slowly in her wide skirts and holding the pitchercarefully before her.
Floretta's baby was sleeping, and after a few pleasant words the girl kepton to Chericoke. There she found that the Major had gone to town for news,leaving Mrs. Lightfoot to her pickle making in the big storeroom, where theearthenware jars stood in clean brown rows upon the shelves. The air wassharp with the smell of vinegar and spices, and fragrant moisture drippedfrom the old lady's delicate hands. At the moment she had forgotten the warjust beyond her doors, and even the vacant places in her household; hernervous flutter was caused by finding the plucked corn too large to salt.
"Come in, child, come in," she said, as Betty appeared in the doorway."You're too good a housekeeper to mind the smell of brine."
"How the soldiers will enjoy it," laughed Betty in reply. "It's fortunatethat both sides are fond of spices."
The old lady was tying a linen cloth over the mouth of a great brown jar,and she did not look up as she answered. "I'm not consulting their tastes,my dear, though, as for that, I'm willing enough to feast our own men solong as the Yankees keep away. This jar, by the bye, is filled with'Confederate pickle'--it was as little as I could do to compliment theGovernment, I thought, and the green tomato catchup I've named in honour ofGeneral Beauregard."
Betty smiled; and then, while Mrs. Lightfoot stood sharply regardingCar'line, who was shucking a tray of young corn, she timidly began upon hermission. "The flags must be finished, and I can't find the silk," shepleaded. "Isn't there a scrap in the house I may have? Let me look aboutthe attic."
The old lady shook her head. "I haven't allowed anybody to set foot in myattic for forty years," she replied decisively. "Why, I'd almost as soonthey'd step into my grandfather's vault." Then as Betty's face fell sheadded generously. "As for white silk, I haven't any except my weddingdress, and that's yellow with age; but you may take it if you want it. I'msure it couldn't come to a better end; at least it will have been to thefront upon two important occasions."
"Your wedding dress!" exclaimed Betty in surprise, "oh, how could you?"
Mrs. Lightfoot smiled grimly.
"I could give more than a wedding dress if the Confederacy called for it,my dear," she answered. "Indeed, I'm not perfectly sure that I couldn'tgive the Major himself--but go upstairs and wait for me while I sendCar'line for the keys."
She returned to the storeroom, and Betty went upstairs to wander leisurelythrough the cool faintly lighted chambers. They were all newly swept andscented with lavender, and the high tester beds, with their slender flutedposts, looked as if they had stood spotless and untouched for generations.In Dan's room, which had been his mother's also, the girl walked slowly upand down, meeting, as she passed, her own eyes in the darkened mirror. Hermind fretted with the thought that Dan's image had risen so often in theglass, and yet had left no hint for her as she looked in now. If it hadonly caught and held his reflection, that blank mirror, she could havefound it, she felt sure, though a dozen faces had passed by since. Wasthere nothing left of him, she wondered, nothing in the place where he hadlived his life? She turned to the bed and picked up, one by one, thescattered books upon the little table. Among them there was a copy of the"Morte d'Arthur," and as it fell open in her hand, she found a bit of herown blue ribbon between the faded leaves. A tremor ran through her limbs,and going to the window she placed the book upon the sill and read thewords aloud in the fragrant stillness. Behind her in the dim room Danseemed to rise as suddenly as a ghost--and that high-flown chivalry of his,which delighted in sounding phrases as in heroic virtues, was loosened fromthe leaves of the old romance.
"For there was never worshipful man nor worshipful woman but they loved onebetter than another, and worship in arms may never be foiled; but firstreserve the honour to God, and secondly the quarrel must come of thy lady;and such love I call virtuous love."
She leaned her cheek upon the book and looked out dreamily into the greenbox mazes of the garden. In the midst of war a great peace had come to her,and the quiet summer weather no longer troubled her with its unbroken calm.Her heart had grown suddenly strong again; even the long waiting had becomebut a fit service for her love.
There was a step in the hall and Mrs. Lightfoot rustled in with her weddingdress.
"You may take it and welcome, child," she said, as she gave it into Betty'sarms. "I can't help feeling that there was something providential in myselecting white when my taste always leaned toward a peach-blow brocade.Well, well, who would have believed that I was buying a flag as well as afrock? If I'd even hinted such a thing, they would have said I had thevapours."
Betty accepted the gift with her pretty effusion of manner, and wentdownstairs to where Hosea was waiting for her with the big carriage. As shedrove home in a happy revery, her eyes dwelt contentedly on the sunburntAugust fields, and the thought of war did not enter in to disturb herdreams.
Once a line of Confederate cavalrymen rode by at a gallop and saluted heras her face showed at the window. They were strangers to her, but with thepeculiar feeling of kinship which united the people of the South, sheleaned out to wish them "God speed" as she waved her handkerchief.
When, a little later, she turned into the drive at Uplands, it was to find,from the prints upon the gravel, that the soldiers had been there beforeher. Beyond the Doric columns she caught a glimpse of a gray sleeve, andfor a single instant a wild hope shot up within her heart. Then as thecarriage stopped, and she sprang quickly to the ground, the man in graycame out upon the portico, and she saw that it was Jack Morson.
"I've come for Virginia, Betty," he began impulsively, as he took her hand,"and she promises to marry me before the battle."
Betty laughed with trembling lips. "And here is the dress," she said gayly,holding out the yellowed silk.