CHAPTER IX.
The news of the destruction of the _Maine_ was quite as exciting toour friends at Ion as to those of Woodburn. All saw that war betweenthe United States and Spain could not be long delayed, and when it wasdeclared, both Harold and Herbert Travilla volunteered their servicesas physicians and surgeons to the troops to be sent to Cuba or PuertoRico. Their mother gave consent, though her heart bled at thought ofthe toils and dangers they would be called upon to endure, but shefelt that they were right in their desire to help the poor Cubans tosuch freedom as we enjoy. No one had felt a deeper sympathy for thedespoiled and starving reconcentradoes than she. Her sons were notgoing as soldiers, to be sure, but as greatly needed help to those whowere to do the fighting.
Captain Raymond was strongly inclined to offer his services to thegovernment, but was deterred by the earnest, tearful entreaties of hiswife and daughters. They urged him to refrain, for their sakes, asthere seemed to be no lack of men who could be better spared--at leastso it seemed to them.
"Oh, father," said Grace, "don't think of such a thing! There areplenty of other men who are not so much loved and needed in their ownhomes; so that the poor Cubans will be sure to get free without ourrisking the loss of the dearest father that anybody ever had."
It was shortly after breakfast on a beautiful May morning, and thewhole family were together on the front veranda, the captain occupyingan easy chair, while looking over the morning paper. Grace had comeclose to his side, and was standing there as she spoke.
"Is that your opinion of him?" he asked, smiling up into her eyes.
"Yes, sir; and always has been," she answered, accepting a silentinvitation to a seat upon his knee, and putting an arm around hisneck. "Oh, father, I don't know how I could live without you!" sheexclaimed, her eyes filling with tears at the very thought.
"Nor I," said Lucilla. "No greater calamity than the loss of our fathercould possibly befall us. And there are plenty of other people to lookafter the Cubans."
"So I think," said Violet. "If our country was in peril it wouldbe a different matter. And, my dear, as your eldest son is in thefight--such a dear fellow as he is too!--I am sure that ought to beconsidered your full share of giving and doing for the Cuban cause."
"I should think so indeed!" chimed in Lucilla and Grace in a breath.
"And, oh, I can't bear to think that my dear brother Max may getwounded!" exclaimed Elsie; and Ned added, "And if he does, I'd justlike to shoot the fellow that shoots him."
"We must try not to feel revengeful, my little son," said his father.
"Well, papa, please promise not to offer to go into the fight," pleadedGrace, and the others all added their earnest solicitations to hers,till at length they won the desired pledge. They were too dear to thecaptain's heart to be denied what they pleaded for so earnestly andimportunately.
Grace was feebler and oftener ailing that spring than she had been forseveral years before, and Dr. Arthur Conly, or one or the other of hispartners,--Harold and Herbert Travilla,--was often there to give adviceand see that it was followed. It had been Harold oftener, of late, thanany one else, and he had grown very fond of the sweet girl who alwayslistened with such deference to his advice, and called him "uncle" inher sweet voice. The thought of leaving her gave him a keener pang thananything else, as he contemplated leaving his home for the labors anddangers of the seat of war. He was glad indeed when he learned that thecaptain would remain at home to take care of her and the rest of hisfamily.
Grace noticed with pleasure that as the time of his leaving drew nearhis manner toward her grew more affectionate, till it seemed almostas tender as that of her father, and she thought it very nice thatUncle Harold should be so fond of her. She looked up to him as one whowas very wise and good, and wondered that he should care particularlyfor her, as she was not really related to him at all. He was fond ofLucilla also, but Grace seemed to him the lovelier of the two. He hadalways been fond of her, but did not know until about to leave her forthat dangerous field of usefulness that his affection was of the sortto make him long for her as the partner of his life. But so it was.Yet could it be? Would the captain ever consent to such a mixture ofrelationships? He feared not; and at all events it was quite certainthat he would not be allowed to try to win his coveted prize for yearsto come--she being so young, and far from strong and well. Then as hewas about to risk his life on battlefields, it would be cruelty to herto try to win her love before he went.
He resolved to go without revealing his secret to any one. But he hadnever had an important secret from his mother; all his life he hadbeen used to talking freely with her, telling of his hopes, aims, andwishes, his doubts and perplexities, and almost before he knew it hehad said enough of his feelings for Grace to show to that mother'skeen-sighted affection how the land lay.
"Grace is very lovely, and a dear child," she said low and gently;"but, as you know, she is not well or strong. Also she is so young thather father would not hear of her marrying for years to come."
"No, mother, nor would I advise it; unless," he added with a low,embarrassed laugh, "to a physician who would take special care of herhealth."
"You refer to one physician in particular, I perceive," returned hismother, with a low, musical laugh, and laying her hand in his, for theywere sitting side by side on the veranda. "Well, my dear boy. I adviseyou to wait till your return home before you say anything to either heror her father. But have you thought what a mixture of relationshipssuch a marriage would make? Your brother-in-law would be also yourfather-in-law, and Grace aunt to her half-brother and sister."
"Yes, mother, it would cause some awkward relationships; but as thereis no tie of blood between us, perhaps that need not matter. But Ishall say nothing till I come home, and not then without the captain'spermission."
"That is right. But do you think Grace suspects?"
"Hardly, mother; I am only her 'uncle,' you know," Harold answered,with a laugh in which there was little or no mirth.
"Although I am certainly very fond of Grace," said his mother, "Icannot help regretting that your affections have not gone out to someone else rather than to her--because of her feeble health and theconnection through your sister and her father."
"Yes, they are objections," he returned, with a sigh; "but mother dear,you will not consider them insuperable if I can persuade the captainnot to do so?"
"Oh, no! not if you win, or have won, her heart. I should not think ofraising the least objection, and surely the captain, who is a devotedfather, would not, should he see that her affections are engaged."
"That is my hope," said Harold; "and, as I have said, I do not intendto offer myself without his knowledge and consent, though I had hardwork to refrain to-day when Grace and I were left alone together fora few minutes, and she expressed, with tears in her sweet blue eyes,such anxiety at the thought of my being in danger of wounds or deathin the coming struggle in Cuba. Mother dear, Herbert and I will not,of course, be in as great danger as will the fighting men of our armyand navy, but there is a possibility that we may not return unharmed,and in case I should not I would not have Grace know of my love andintention to--ask her to become my wife."
"I think you are right, my son," his mother said, with emotion. "But,ah, I hope and shall pray constantly that my dear boys may come back tome unharmed."
"And it will be a great help and comfort to them to know that theirdear mother's prayers are following them," rejoined Harold, tenderlypressing the hand she had laid in his.
The next moment Herbert joined them, and he too had a farewell talkwith his mother, for the brothers were to leave for Tampa the nextmorning to join the troops about to sail for Cuba.