CHAPTER THIRTIETH.
"War, war, war! Misery, murder, and crime; Crime, murder, and woe."
The Travillas accompanied Miss Stanhope on her return to Lansdale, andwere there to assist at the reception of Harry and his bride. After that,a few weeks were spent by them with Mr. and Mrs. Ross.
They then returned to Elmgrove, where, detained, partly by businessmatters, partly by Harold's condition and his earnest wish to have themall near him to the last, they lingered until September.
Harold "went home," early in that month, dying as calmly and quietly as"fades a summer cloud away," or "sinks the gale when storms are o'er."
He was buried with military honors, and the friends returned to the house,sorely to miss, indeed, the wasted form, and wan, yet patient, cheerfulface, and the loved voice, ever ready with words of consolation and hope;but while weeping over their own present bereavement, rejoicing in his joyand the assurance of a blessed reunion in a better land, when they, too,should be able to say, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished mycourse: I have kept the faith."
It was a melancholy satisfaction to Rose that she had been with him almostconstantly during the last three months of his life; her husband had nothurried her; but now both they, and Mr. Travilla and Elsie, felt that thetime had come when they should hasten their return to their own homes.
They set out the next week; not a gay party, but filled with a subdued,quiet cheerfulness. Some of their dear ones, but lately journeying withthem towards the Celestial City, had reached the gates and entered in; butthey were following after, and would overtake them at length; and, thoughthe way might be at times rough and stony to their weary feet, the pathcompassed by foes both wily and strong, yet there was with them Onemightier than all the hosts of hell, and who had promised never to leavenor forsake. "In all these things they should be more than conquerors,through Him that loved them."
After entering Virginia, they saw all along the route the sad ravages ofthe war, and their hearts sent up earnest petitions that those wasteplaces might speedily be restored, and their dear native land never againbe visited with that fearful scourge.
The scenes grew more saddening as they neared their journey's end, andcould recognize, in the ruined houses and plantations, the wrecks of theformer happy homes of friends and neighbors.
They all went directly to the Oaks, where the Travillas were to find ahome until Ion could be made again comfortably habitable. It was late inthe afternoon of a cloudy, showery day that they found themselves actuallyrolling quietly along the broad winding drive that led through the groundsto the noble mansion they had left more than five years before.
Even here there were sad signs of neglect: the grounds had forgotten theirformer neat and trim appearance, and the house needed paint and someslight repairs. But this was all; and they felt it a cause forthankfulness that things were no worse.
A group of relatives and retainers were gathered in the veranda to greetthem; an aged, white-haired man the central figure, around him threeladies in deep mourning, a one-armed gentleman, and a crowd of children ofboth sexes and all ages, from the babe in arms to the youth of sixteen;while in the rear could be seen Mrs. Murray's portly figure, and strong,sensible Scotch face, beaming with pleasure, relieved by a background ofdusky faces, lighted up with joy and expectation.
Mr. Dinsmore alighted first, gave his hand to his wife, and leaving youngHorace to attend to Rosebud, hastened to meet his father.
The old man tottered forward and fell upon his neck, weeping bitterly. "Myson, my boa, my only one now; I have lost all--everything--wife, sons,home; all swept away, nothing left to my old age but you."
"Yes, that's it always," sneered a sharp voice near at hand; "daughterscount for nothing; grandchildren are equally valuable. Sons, houses, andlands are the only possessions worth having."
"Enna, how can you!" exclaimed Mrs. Howard.
But neither father nor brother seemed to hear, or heed the unkind,unfilial remark. The old man was sobbing on his son's shoulder; hesoothing him as tenderly as ever he had soothed wife or daughter.
"My home is yours as long as you choose to make it so, my dear father; andRoselands shall be restored, and your old age crowned with the love andreverence of children and children's children."
Hastily recovering himself, the old gentleman released his son, gave anaffectionate greeting to Rose, and catching sight of young Horace, now ahandsome youth of nineteen, embraced him, exclaiming, "Ah, yes, here isanother son for me! one of whom I may well be proud. Rosie, too, grown toa great girl! Glad to see you, dear." But the first carriage had moved on;the second had come up and discharged its living freight, and Mr.Travilla, with Vi in his arms, Elsie leading her eldest daughter and son,had stepped upon the veranda, followed by Dinah with the babe.
"Dear grandpa," Mrs. Travilla said, in tender, tremulous tones, droppingher children's hands to put her arms about his neck, as he turned fromRosebud to her, "my poor, dear grandpa, we will all try to comfort you,and make your old age bright and happy. See, here are yourgreat-grandchildren ready to rise up and call you blessed."
"God bless you, child!" he said, in quivering tones, embracing her withmore affection than ever before. "And this," laying his hand on weeElsie's head, "is yourself as you were at the same age."
"I'm very sorry for you, dear old grandpa; mamma has told me all aboutit," the little girl softly whispered, putting her small arms about hisneck as he stooped to give her a kiss.
"Me too," Eddie put in, offering his hand and lips.
"That's right; good boy; good children. How are you, Travilla? You've comeback to find ruin and desolation where you left beauty and prosperity;"and the aged voice shook with emotion.
Mr. Travilla had a kindly, hearty hand-shake, and gentle sympathizingwords for him, then presented Vi and Baby Harold.
Meanwhile the greetings were being exchanged by the others. Lora met herbrother, and both Rose and Elsie, with the warm affection of earlier days,mingled with grief for the losses and sorrows that had befallen since theyparted.
Mr. Howard, too, was cordial in his greeting, but Louise and Enna met themwith coldness and disdain, albeit they were mere pensioners upon Horace'sbounty, self-invited guests in his house.
Louise gave the tips of her fingers to each, in sullen silence, while Ennadrew back from the offered hands, muttering, "A set of Yankees come to spyout the nakedness of the land; don't give a hand to them, children."
"As you like," Mr. Dinsmore answered indifferently, stepping past her tospeak to Mrs. Murray and the servants; "you know I will do a brother'spart by my widowed sisters all the same."
"For shame, Enna!" said Lora; "you are here in Horace's house, and neitherhe nor the others ever took part against us."
"I don't care, it was nearly as bad to stay away and give no help,"muttered the offender, giving Elsie a look of scorn and aversion.
"Be quiet, will you, Madam Johnson," said her old father; "it would be nomore than right if Horace should turn you out of the house. Elsie," seeingtears coursing the cheeks of the latter, "don't distress yourself, child;she's not worth minding."
"That is quite true, little wife," said Mr. Travilla; "and though you havefelt for her sorrows, do not let her unkindness wound you."
Elsie wiped away her tears, but only waiting to speak to Mrs. Murray andthe servants, retired immediately to the privacy of her own apartments,Mr. Travilla accompanying her with their children and attendants.
Wearied with her journey, and already saddened by the desolations of thecountry over which they had passed, this cold, and even insultingreception from the aunts--over whose bereavements she had wept in tendersympathy--cut her to the quick.
"Oh, Edward, how can they behave so to papa and mamma in their own house!"she said, sitting down upon a sofa in her boudoir and laying aside herhat, while her eyes again overflowed; "dear papa and mamma, who are alwaysso kind!"
"And you, too, dearest," he said, placing himself by her sid
e and puttingan arm about her. "It is shameful conduct, but do not allow it to troubleyou."
"I will try not to mind it, but let me cry; I shall get over it thesooner. I never thought to feel so uncomfortable in my father's house. Ah,if Ion were only ready for us!" she sighed.
"I am glad that your home must be with me for the present, daughter, ifyou can only enjoy it," said her father, who, still ever watchful overher happiness, had followed to soothe and comfort her. "It grieves me thatyour feelings should have been so wounded," he added, seating himself onthe other side, and taking her hand in his.
"Thank you, dear papa; it is for you and mamma, even more than myself,that I feel hurt."
"Then never mind it, dearest. Enna has already coolly told me that she andLouise have settled themselves in the west wing, with their children andservants; where they purpose to maintain a separate establishment, havingno desire to associate with any of us; though I, of course, am to supplytheir table at my own expense, as well as whatever else is needed," headded, with a slight laugh of mingled amusement and vexation.
"Considering it a great privilege to be permitted to do so, I presume,"Mr. Travilla remarked, a little sarcastically.
"Of course; for cool impudence Enna certainly exceeds every other personof my acquaintance."
"You must let us share the privilege."
"Thanks; but we will talk of that at another time. I know you and Elsiehave dreaded the bad influence of Enna's spoiled children upon yours; andI, too, have feared it for them, and for Rosebud; but there is to be nocommunication between theirs and ours; Louise's one set, and Enna's two,keeping to their own side of the building and grounds, and ours notintruding upon them. Enna had it all arranged, and simply made theannouncement to me, probably with little idea of the relief she wasaffording."
"It is a great relief," said Elsie. "Aunt Lora's are better trained, andwill not----"
"They do not remain with us; Pinegrove is still habitable, and they arehere only for to-day to welcome us home."
Elsie's face lighted up with pleasure. "And we shall have our own dearhome to ourselves, after all! Ah, how foolish I have been to so borrowtrouble."
"I have shared the folly," her father said, smiling; "but let us be wiserfor the future. They have already retired to their own quarters, and youwill see no more of them for the present. My father remains with us."
Mrs. Howard was deeply mortified by the conduct of her sisters, but triedto excuse them to those whom they were treating with such rudeness andingratitude.
"Louise and Enna are very bitter," she said, talking with Rose and Elsiein the drawing-room after tea; "but they have suffered much in the loss oftheir husbands and our brothers; to say nothing of property. Sherman'ssoldiers were very lawless--some of them, I mean; and they were not allAmericans--and inflicted much injury. Enna was very rude and exasperatingto the party who visited Roselands, and was roughly handled inconsequence; robbed of her watch and all her jewelry and money.
"They treated our poor old father with great indignity also; dragged himdown the steps of the veranda, took his watch, rifled his pockets,plundered the house, then set it on fire and burned it to the ground."
Her listeners wept as she went on to describe more minutely the scenes ofviolence at Roselands, Ashlands, Pinegrove, and other plantations andtowns in the vicinity; among them the residences of the pastor and hisvenerable elder, whose visits were so comforting to Mrs. Travilla in herlast sickness.
"They were Union men," Lora said, in conclusion, "spending their time andstrength in self-denying efforts for the spiritual good of both whites andblacks, and had suffered much at the hands of the Confederates; yet werestripped of everything by Sherman's troops, threatened with instant death,and finally left to starve, actually being without food for several days."
"Dreadful!" exclaimed Rose. "I could not have believed any of our officerswould allow such things. But war is very cruel, and gives opportunity towicked, cruel men, on both sides to indulge their evil propensities andpassions. Thank God, it is over at last; and oh, may He, in His greatgoodness and mercy, spare us a renewal, of it."
"I say amen to that!" responded Mrs. Howard earnestly. "My poor Ned! mybrothers! my crippled husband! Oh, I sometimes think my heart will break!"
It was some minutes ere she could speak again, for weeping, and the otherswept with her.
But resuming. "We were visited by both armies," she said, "and one didabout as much mischief as the other; and between them there is but littleleft: they did not burn us out at Pinegrove, but stripped us very bare."
"Aunt Lora, dear Aunt Lora!" Elsie sobbed, embracing her with muchtenderness; "we cannot restore the loved ones, but your damages shall berepaired."
"Ah, it will take a lifetime; we have no means left."
"You shall borrow of me without interest. With the exception of thefailure of income from Viamede, I have lost nothing by the war but thenegroes. My husband's losses are somewhat heavier. But our united incomeis still very large; so that I believe I can help you all, and I shalldelight to do it, even should it involve the sale of most of my jewels."
"Dear child, you are very very kind," Lora said, deeply moved; "and it maybe that Edward, proud as he is, will accept some assistance from you."
The next morning Mr. Dinsmore and Rose, Mr. Travilla and Elsie, mountedtheir horses directly after breakfast, and set out to view for themselvesthe desolations of Roselands and Ion, preparatory to considering whatcould be done to restore them to their former beauty.
Roselands lying nearest, received their attention first, but so greatlywere the well-remembered landmarks changed, that on arriving, they couldscarce believe themselves there.
Not one of the noble old trees, that had bordered the avenue and shadedthe lawn, was left standing; many lay prostrate upon the ground, whileothers had been used for fuel. Of the house naught remained but a few feetof stone wall, some charred, blackened beams, and a heap of ashes. Thegardens were a desert, the lawn was changed to a muddy field by thetramping of many feet, and furrowed with deep ruts where the artillery hadpassed and repassed; fences, hedge-rows, shrubbery--all had disappeared;and the fields, once cultivated with great care, were overgrown with weedsand nettles.
"We have lost our way! this cannot be the place!" cried Rose, as theyreined in their horses on the precise spot where Arthur and Walter hadtaken their farewell look at home.
"Alas, alas, it is no other!" Mr. Travilla replied, in moved tones.
The hearts of Mr. Dinsmore and Elsie were too full for speech, and hottears were coursing down the cheeks of the latter.
Mr. Dinsmore pressed forward, and the others followed, slowly pickingtheir way through the ruins, grief swelling in their hearts at every step.Determined to know the worst, they made the circuit of the house and ofthe whole estate.
"Can it ever be restored?" Elsie asked at length, amid her tears.
"The house may be rebuilt in a few months, and fields and gardens clearedof weeds, and made to resume something of the old look," Mr. Dinsmoreanswered; "but the trees were the growth of years, and this generationwill not see their places filled with their like."
They pursued their way to Ion in almost unbroken silence. Here the fieldspresented the same appearance of neglect; lawn and gardens were a wild,but scarcely a tree had fallen, and though the house had been pillaged,furniture destroyed, windows broken, and floors torn up, a few rooms werestill habitable; and here they found several of the house-servants, whohailed their coming with demonstrations of delight.
They had lived on the products of the orchard and grapery, and bycultivating a small patch of ground and keeping a few fowls.
Elsie assumed an air of cheerfulness, for her husband's sake; rejoicedthat the trees had been spared, that the family burial-place had escapeddesecration, and talked gayly of the pleasure of repairing damages, andmaking improvements till Ion should not have a rival for beauty thecountry round.
Her efforts were appreciated, and met fully half-way, by h
er lovingspouse.
The four, taking possession of the rustic seat on the top of a littleknoll, where the huge branches of a giant oak protected them from the sun,took a lengthened survey of the house and grounds, and held a consultationin regard to ways and means.
Returning to the Oaks, the gentlemen went to the library, where old Mr.Dinsmore was sitting alone, and reported to him the result of the morningconference. Roselands was to be rebuilt as fast as men and materials couldbe procured, Elsie furnishing the means--a very large sum of money, ofwhich he was to have the use, free of interest, for a long term of years,or during his natural life.
Mr. Horace Dinsmore knew his father would never take it as a gift, andindeed, it cost him a hard struggle to bring his pride down to theacceptance of it as offered. But he consented at last, and as the othertwo retired, begged that Elsie would come to him for a moment.
She came in so quietly that he was not aware of her presence. He sat inthe corner of a sofa, his white head bowed upon his knees, and his agedframe shaking with sobs.
Kneeling at his side, she put her arms about him, whispering, "Grandpa,my poor, dear grandpa, be comforted; for we all love and honor you."
"Child! child! I have not deserved this at your hands," he sobbed. "Iturned from you when you came to my house, a little, desolate motherlessone, claiming my affection."
"But that was many years ago, dear grandpa, and we will 'let the dead pastbury its dead,' You will not deny me the great pleasure of helping torepair the desolations of war in the dear home of my childhood? You willtake it as help sent by Him whose steward I am?"
He clasped her close, and his kisses and tears were warm upon her cheek,as he murmured, in low, broken tones, "God bless you, child! I can refuseyou nothing. You shall do as you will."
At last, Elsie had won her way to her stern grandfather's heart; andhenceforth she was dear to him as ever one of his children had been.
* * * * *
It is a sweet October morning in the year 1867. Ion, restored to more thanits pristine loveliness, lies basking in the beams of the newly risen sun;a tender mist, gray in the distance, rose-colored and golden where therays of light strike it more directly, enveloping the landscape; the treesdecked in holiday attire--green, russet, orange, and scarlet.
The children are romping with each other and their nurses, in the avenue;with the exception of wee Elsie, now a fair, gentle girl of nine, whooccupies a rustic seat a little apart from the rest. She has a Bible inher hand, and the sweet young face is bent earnestly, lovingly, over theholy book.
On the veranda stands the mother, watching her darlings with eyes thatgrow misty with glad tears, while her heart sends up its joyousthanksgiving to Him who had been the Guide of her youth and the stay andstaff of maturer years.
A step approaches, and her husband's arm encircles her waist, while, asshe turns her head, his kindly gray eyes gaze into the depths of her softhazel ones, with a love stronger than life--or than death.
"Do you know, little wife, what day this is?"
She answered with a bright, glad smile; then her head dropped upon hisshoulder.
"Yes, my husband; ten years ago to-day I committed my happiness to yourkeeping, and never for one moment have I regretted the step."
"Bless you, darling, for the word! How great are the mercies of God to me!Yonder is our first-born. I see you as you were when first I met andcoveted you; and here you stand by my side, the true wife who has been forten years the joy and light of my heart and home. Wife, I love you betterto-day than ever before, and if it be the will of God, may we yet havefive times ten years to live together in love and harmony."
"We shall!" she answered earnestly; "eternity is ours, and death itselfcan part us but for a little while."
THE END.
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends