there any question?"
"How was their freedom threatened?"
"Why," said Ransom, hotly, "what do you think of armies uponthe soil of Virginia? - invading armies, come to take whatthey like? What do you think of Southern forts garrisoned byNorthern troops, and Southern cities in blockade? Is that youridea of freedom?"
"These are not the cause, but the effect, of the positiontaken by the South," I said.
"Yes, we fired the first gun, Randolph," said Mr. Marshall.
"Sumter was held against us," said Ransom.
"Not till South Carolina had seceded."
"Well, she had a _right_ to secede!" cried Ransom. "And thisright the Northern mudsills are trying to trample out. If shehas not a right to be governed as she likes, she is not free."
"But why did she secede?" I asked. "What wrong was done her?"
"You are a girl, and cannot understand such matters!" Ransomanswered, impatiently. "Just ask mamma to talk to you; - or Iwill!"
"Miss Randolph's question is pertinent though," said Mr.Marshall; "and I am ashamed to confess I am as little able toanswer it as she. What wrong had they to complain of?"
"Why, Hugh, you certainly know," his companion answered, "thatLincoln was elected; and that if the government is to be inthe hands of those who do not think and vote with us - as thiselection shows it will - we shall be pushed to the wall. TheSouth and her institutions will come to nothing - will be in acontemptible minority. We do not choose that."
"Then the wrong done them was that they were out-voted?" Mr.Marshall said.
"Put it so!" De Saussure replied, with heat; "we have a rightto say we will govern ourselves and sail our own boat."
"Yes, so I think we have," said the other. "Whether it isworth such a war, is another question, Such a war is a seriousthing."
"It would be mean-spirited to let our rights be taken fromus," said Ransom. "It is worth anything to maintain them."
"It will not be much of a war," resumed De Saussure. "Thosepoor tailors and weavers will find their workshops are a greatdeal more comfortable than soldiers' tents and the battle-ground; and they won't stand fire, depend upon it."
"Cowardly Yankees!" said Ransom.
"That is Preston's favourite word," I remarked. "But I am notclear that you are not both mistaken."
"You have lived among Yankees, till it has hurt you," saidRansom.
"Till I have learned to know something about them," I said.
"And is your judgment of the probable issue of the war,different from that I have expressed, Miss Randolph?" Mr. DeSaussure asked.
"My judgment is not worth much," I said. "I have doubts."
"But you agree with us as to the right of preserving ourindependence?" Mr. Marshall said.
"Does independence mean, the governing power? Does everyminority, as such, lose its independence?"
"Yes!" said De Saussure - "if it is to be permanently aminority."
"That would be our case, you see," Mr. Marshall went on. "Arewe not justified in endeavouring to escape from such aposition?"
I was most unwilling to talk on the subject, but they were alldetermined I should. I could not escape.
"It depends," I said, "the settlement of that question, uponthe other question, whether our government is one or twenty."
"It is thirty!" said Ransom.
I had thrown a ball now which they could keep up without me.To my joy, the whole three became so much engaged in the game,that I was forgotten. I could afford to forget too; andquitting the fair lake and the glorious mountain that lookeddown upon it, ceasing to hear the eager debate which went onat my side, my thoughts flew over the water to a uniform and asword that were somewhere in that struggle of rights andwrongs. My heart sank. So far off, and I could not reach him;so busy against the feelings and prejudices of my friends, andI could not reconcile them; in danger, and I could not benear; in trouble, perhaps, and I could not help. It would notdo to think about. I brought my thoughts back, and wondered atold Mont Pilatte which looked so steadily down on me with thecalm of the ages.
CHAPTER X.
WAITING
For weeks after this sail on the lake my life was like a f?teday. Expeditions of all sorts were planned and carried out formy pleasure. One day we were exploring the lake shores in aboat; the next, we went back into the country, as far as wecould go and return before evening; a third day we climbed themountains somewhere and got glorious new views of what theworld is. Nothing could hinder, in those days, but that mydraught of pleasure was very full. Whatever weight might lieat my heart, when I found myself high, high up above theordinary region of life, resting on a mountain summit fromwhich I looked down upon all that surrounded me other days; alittle of that same lifting up befel the thoughts of my heartand the views that have to do with the spirit's life. I stoodabove the region of mists for a little. I saw how theinequalities of the lower level, which perplex us there, sinkinto nothing when looked upon from a higher standpoint. I sawthat rough roads led to quiet valleys; and that the blessedsunlight was always lying on the earth, though down in one ofthose depths one might lose sight of it for a time. I do notknow how it is, but getting up into a high mountain has alittle the effect of getting out of the world. One has leftperplexities and uncertainties behind; the calm and thestrength of the everlasting hills is about one; the air is notdefiled with contentions or rivalries or jealousies up there;and the glory of creation reminds one of other glory, andpower, and wisdom and might; and one breathes hope and rest.So I used to do. Of all our excursions, I liked best to go upthe mountains. No matter how high, or by how difficult a road.
Mamma and papa were only now and then of the party. That I wasvery sorry for, but it could not be helped. Mamma had seen itall, she said; and when I urged that she had not been to thisparticular "horn," she said that one "horn" was just likeanother, and that when you had seen one or two you had seenthem all. But I never found it so. Every new time was a newrevelation of glory to me. If I could have had papa with me,my satisfaction would have been perfect; but papa shunnedfatigue, and never went where he could not go easily. I wasobliged to be content with my brother and my brother'sfriends; and after I had made up my mind to that, the wholeway was a rejoicing to me, from the time I left the house tillwe returned, a weary and hungry party, to claim mamma'swelcome again. Our party was always the same four. Mr. deSaussure and Hugh Marshall were, I found, very intimately athome with my father and mother, and naturally they were soonon the same footing with me. As far as care went, I had threebrothers to look after me, of whom indeed Ransom was not themost careful; and as to social qualifications, they wereextremely well-bred, well-educated, and had a great deal ofgeneral and particular cultivation. In the evenings we hadmusic and conversation; which last was always very pleasantexcept when it turned upon American affairs. Then I had greattwinges of heart, which I thought it wise to keep to myself asclosely as possible.
I remember well the twinge I had, when one evening early inSeptember De Saussure came in, the utmost glee expressed inhis eyes and manner, and announced his news thus; -
"They have had a battle at Springfield, and Lyon is killed."
"Who is Lyon?" I could not help asking, though it wasincautious.
"You should not ask," he said more gently as he sat down byme; "you have no relish for these things. Even the cause ofliberty cannot sweeten them to you."
"Who is Lyon, De Saussure?" my father repeated.
"A Connecticut fellow." The tone of these words, in its utterdisdain, was inexpressible.
"Connecticut?" said my father. "Has the war got into NewEngland? That cannot be."
"No, sir, no, sir," said Ransom. "It is Springfield inMissouri. You find a Yankee wherever you go in this world."
"Wilson's Creek is the place of the battle," Mr. De Saussurewent on. "Near Springfield, in Missouri. It was anoverwhelming defeat. Lyon killed, and the next in commandobliged to beat off."
"Who on our side?" asked my mother.
"Ben McCulloch and Price
."
"How many engaged? Was it much of an affair?"
"We had twenty thousand or so. Of course, the others hadmore."
"It doesn't take but one or two Southerners to whip a score ofthose cowards," said Ransom.
"Why should not the war have got into New England, Mr.Randolph?" my mother asked. "You said, 'That cannot be.' Whyshould it not be?"
"There are a few thousand men in the way," said my father;"and I think they are not all cowards."
"They will never stand before our