Sunday, 7th December.
I have had a shock! While writing alone here (almost all have gone to church), I heard a step ascending the stair. What, I asked, if it should be Will? Then I blamed myself for supposing such a thing possible. Slowly it came nearer and nearer, I raised my head, and was greeted with a ghastly smile. I held out my hand. "Will!" "Sarah!"
(Misery discards ceremony.) He stood before me the most woebegone, heartbroken man I ever saw.
With a forced laugh he said, "Where is my bride? Pshaw! I know she has gone to Clinton! I have come to talk to _you_. Wasn"t it a merry wedding?" The hollow laugh rang again. I tried to jest, but failed.
"Sit down and let me talk to you," I said. He was in a wayward humor; cut to the heart, ready to submit to a touch of silk, or to resist a grasp of iron. This was the man I had to deal with, and get from him something he clung to as to--not his life, but--Miriam. And I know so little how to act in such a case, know so little about dealing gently with wild natures!
He alarmed me at first. His forced laugh ceased; he said that he meant to keep that license always. It was a joke on him yesterday, but with that in his possession, the tables would be turned on her. He would show it to her occasionally. It should keep her from marrying any one else. I said that it would be demanded, though; he must deliver it. The very devil shot in his eye as he exclaimed fiercely, "If any one dares demand it, I"ll die before giving it up! If G.o.d Almighty came, I"d say no! I"ll die with it first!" O merciful Father, I thought; what misery is to come of this jest. He must relinquish it. Gibbes will force him into it, or die in the attempt; George would come from Virginia....
Jimmy would cross the seas.... And I was alone in here to deal with such a spirit!
I commenced gently. Would he do Miriam such a wrong? It was no wrong, he said; let him follow his own will. "You profess to love her?" I asked. "Profess? Great G.o.d! how can you? I adore her! I tell you that, in spite of all this, I love her not more--that is impossible,--but as much as ever! Look at my face and ask that!" burst from him with the wildest impulse. "Very well. This girl you _love_, then, you mean to make miserable. You stand forever between her and her happiness, because you love her! Is this love?" He was sullenly silent. I went on: "Not only her happiness, but her honor is concerned. You who love her so, do her this foul injury." "Would it affect her reputation?" he asked. "Ask yourself! Is it quite right that you should hold in your hands the evidence that she is Mrs. Carter, when you know she is not, and never will be? Is it quite honorable?" "In G.o.d"s name, would it injure Miriam? I"d rather die than grieve her."
My iron was melted, but too hot to handle; I put it on one side, satisfied that I and I only had saved Miriam from injury and three brothers from bloodshed, by using his insane love as a lever. It does not look as hard here as it was in reality; but it was of the hardest struggles I ever had--indeed, it was desperate. I had touched the right key, and satisfied of success, turned the subject to let him believe he was following his own suggestions. When I told him he must free Miriam from all blame, that I had encouraged the jest against her repeated remonstrances, and was alone to blame, he generously took it on himself. "I was so crazy about her," he said, "that I would have done it anyhow. I would have run any risk for the faintest chance of obtaining her"; and much more to the same purpose that, though very generous in him, did not satisfy my conscience. But he surprised me by saying that he was satisfied that if I had been in my room, and he had walked into the parlor with the license, she would have married him.
What infatuation! He says, though, that I only prevented it; that my influence, by my mere presence, is stronger than his words. I don"t say that is so; but if I helped save her, thank Heaven!
It is impossible to say one half that pa.s.sed, but he showed me his determination to act just as he has heretofore, and take it all as a joke, that no blame might be attached to her. "Besides, I"d rather die than not see her; I laugh, but you don"t know what I suffer!" Poor fellow! I saw it in his swimming eyes.
At last he got up to go before they returned from church. "Beg her to meet me as she always has. I told Mrs. Worley that she must treat her just the same, because I love her so. And--say I go to Clinton to-morrow to have that record effaced, and deliver up the license. I would not grieve her; indeed, I love her too well." His voice trembled as well as his lips. He took my hand, saying, "You are hard on me. I could make her happy, I know, because I worship her so. I have been crazy about her for three years; you can"t call it a mere fancy. Why are you against me? But G.o.d bless you! Good-bye!" And he was gone.
Why? O Will, because I love my sister too much to see her miserable merely to make you happy!
Friday, 12th December.
My cripple friend that I mentioned so far back continues to send me the most affecting messages. "He is really wretched about me; never was more distressed; thinks of nothing else"; and so on through the whole list. To cap the climax, he sends me word that he can now walk on crutches, and the first time he can venture in a buggy, means to call on me. _Que le ciel m"en preserve!_ What could we talk about? "His"n"
and "her"n" several misfortunes? That"s too bad! Every one teases me unmercifully about my new conquest. I can"t help but be amused; and yet, beware, young girls, of expressing sympathy, even for soldiers!
There is no knowing what effect it may produce.
Sunday, December 14th.
Yesterday evening, some time before sunset, Mr. Enders was announced, to our great surprise, as we knew he had been in Clinton all the week, having been transferred there instead of to Jackson, as he threatened.
He was the most miserable, unhappy creature one could possibly imagine; even too melancholy for me to laugh at him, which expresses the last degree of wretchedness. To all our questions, he had but one answer, that he had had the most dreadful attack of "blues" ever since he was here Sunday; that he had waited every evening at the cars, expecting us, and at last, seeing that we had no intention of coming, he could no longer stand the temptation, so got permission to come down for a day to Port Hudson so he could come out to see us.... Before we could fairly get him cheerful, Will Carter and Ned Badger, who returned only this week from Kentucky, entered. Will was in a bad humor, and wanted to vent it on us; so after waiting some time, he proposed that the two young men should go with him, pocketing at the same moment the cards which had won Miriam and saying they would have a nice game together, and just the rarest old whiskey! He looked around to see the effect produced. We girls did not move, but Mr. Enders said he must really return immediately to Port Hudson, and start for Clinton from there in the night. Will thought it would be such a triumph over us to carry him off, that he insisted. They"d have a fine time! cure the blues! etc.
Ned was more than willing; and at last Mr. Enders said, Well! he felt just so desperate that he did not care what he did; he believed he would go. I saw he was in a reckless humor, and that Will knew it, too, and I promised to make at least an effort to save him.
Miriam spoke to him apart, but he said he had promised now; he must go.
Will ran down triumphant to mount his horse, calling him to follow. All ran out to see him off, when Frank came back to tell me good-bye. I seized the opportunity, and didn"t I plead! I told him I would not ask him to stay here, though he knew we would be happy to have him stay; and begged him to go back to the camp, and leave Will alone.... I suggested other resources; talked of his mother whom he idolizes, pleaded like a grandmother; and just as I wound up, came Will"s voice from below, "Why the devil don"t you come, Enders? Hurry!" He moved a step, looked at me; I dropped my head without a word. Here I must confess to the most consummate piece of acting; I am sorry, but as long as it saved him from doing what I knew he would have cause to regret, I am not ashamed of having tried it. Will called impatiently again, as he stood hesitating before me; I did not say, "Stay," I just gave the faintest sigh imaginable.... He went down and told Will he would not go! Of course, Will went off in a rage with us.
Friday, December 26th, 1862.
Monday Dr. Woods and Mr. Van Ingen stopped, just from their regiment in Kentucky and on their way home, and I begged so hard to see the Doctor, and promised so faithfully to retire if I suffered too much, that Mrs.
Badger yielded, like an angel, and I carried my point. The Doctor! We looked in vain at each other; I for my dandy friend in irreproachable broadcloth, immaculate shirt bosoms and perfect boots; he for the brusque, impulsive girl who in ordinary circ.u.mstances would have run dancing into the parlor, would have given him half-glad, half-indifferent greeting, and then found either occasion to laugh at him or would have turned elsewhere for amus.e.m.e.nt. We looked, I say, in vain. Before me stood my pattern of neatness in a rough uniform of brown homespun. A dark flannel shirt replaced the snowy cambric one, and there was neither cravat nor collar to mark the boundary line between his dark face and the still darker material. And the dear little boots! O ye G.o.ds and little fishes! they were clumsy, and mud-spattered! If my mouth twitched with laughter as I silently commented, the Doctor"s did not! I, who always danced on my way, came in lying back on my pillows, and wheeled in by a servant. The Doctor"s sympathy was really touching, and poor consolation he gave when he heard the story. "You will recover, to a certain extent; but will feel it more or less all your life."
I am the ruin of all these puns; the gentlemen will hate me; I must learn to ignore their conundrums until they answer them themselves, and to wait patiently for the pun instead of catching it and laughing before it is half-spoken. Why can"t I do as the others do? There was Mr. Van Ingen with his constant stream of them, that I antic.i.p.ated several times. He said to me, "If I were asked what town in Louisiana I would rather be in this evening, what would my answer be?" I should have looked perfectly innocent, and politely inquisitive; but I did neither. I saw the answer instantly, and laughed. "Ah, you have guessed! I can see it in your eyes!" he said. Of course I had, but I told him I was afraid to say it, for fear he might think I was flattering myself. Then we both laughed. The place he referred to was _Bayou, Sarah_....
Yesterday, being a beautiful day, I was carried down in honor of Christmas, to meet Captain Fenner and Mr. Duggan who were to dine with us. The cars had brought Miriam a beautiful little set of collars and cuffs from Dellie, and the oddest, sweetest little set for me, from Morgan, for our Christmas gift. It is all Lilly....
We had an exquisite Christmas gift the night before, a magnificent serenade, a compliment from Colonel Breaux. It very singularly happened that Miriam, Anna, and Ned Badger were sitting up in the parlor, watching alone for Christmas, when the band burst forth at the steps, and startled them into a stampede upstairs. But Gibbes, who came with the serenaders, caught them and brought them back into the parlor, where there were only _eight_ gentlemen; and in this novel, unheard-of style, only these two girls, with Gibbes to play propriety, entertained all these people at midnight while the band played without....
I commenced writing to-day expressly to speak of our pleasant Christmas; yet it seems as though I would write about anything except that, since I have not come to it yet. Perhaps it is because I feel I could not do it justice. At least, I can say who was there. At sunset came Captain Bradford and Mr. Conn, the first stalking in with all the a.s.surance which a handsome face and fine person can lend, the second following with all the timidity of a first appearance.... Again, after a long pause, the door swung open, and enter Mr. Halsey, who bows and takes the seat on the other side of me, and Mr. Bradford, of Colonel Allen memory, once more returned to his regiment, who laughs, shakes hands all around, and looks as happy as a schoolboy just come home for the holidays, who has never-ending visions of plumcakes, puddings, and other sweet things. While all goes on merrily, another rap comes, and enter Santa Claus, dressed in the old uniform of the Mexican War, with a tremendous c.o.c.ked hat, and preposterous beard of false hair, which effectually conceal the face, and but for the ma.s.s of tangled short curls no one could guess that the individual was Bud. It was a device of the General"s, which took us all by surprise. Santa Claus pa.s.ses slowly around the circle, and pausing before each lady, draws from his basket a cake which he presents with a bow, while to each gentleman he presents a winegla.s.s replenished from a most suspicious-looking black bottle which also reposes there. Leaving us all wonder and laughter, Santa Claus retires with a basket much lighter than it had been at his entrance.... Then follow refreshments, and more and more talk and laughter, until the clock strikes twelve, when all these ghosts bid a hearty good-night and retire.
January 1st, Thursday, 1863.
1863! Why I have hardly become accustomed to writing "62 yet! Where has this year gone? With all its troubles and anxieties, it is the shortest I ever spent! "61 and "62 together would hardly seem three hundred and sixty-five days to me. Well, let time fly. Every hour brings us nearer our freedom, and we are two years nearer peace now than we were when South Carolina seceded. That is _one_ consolation....
I learn, to my unspeakable grief, that the State House is burned down.
Sunday, January 4th.
One just from Baton Rouge tells us that my presentiment about our house is verified; Yankees do inhabit it, a Yankee colonel and his wife. They say they look strangely at home on our front gallery, pacing up and down.... And a stranger and a Yankee occupies our father"s place at the table where he presided for thirty-one years.... And the old lamp that lighted up so many eager, laughing faces around the dear old table night after night; that with its great beaming eye watched us one by one as we grew up and left our home; that witnessed every parting and every meeting; by which we sang, read, talked, danced, and made merry; the lamp that Hal asked for as soon as he beheld the glittering chandeliers of the new innovation, gas; the lamp that all agreed should go to me among other treasures, and be cased in gla.s.s to commemorate the old days,--our old lamp has pa.s.sed into the hands of strangers who neither know nor care for its history. And mother"s bed (which, with the table and father"s little ebony stand, alone remained uninjured) belongs now to a Yankee woman! Father prized his ebony table. He said he meant to have a gold plate placed in its centre, with an inscription, and I meant to have it done myself when he died so soon after. A Yankee now sips his tea over it, just where some beau or beauty of the days of Charles II may have rested a laced sleeve or dimpled arm....[15]
[15] This "little ebony table"--which happened to be mahogany so darkened with age as to be recognized only by an expert many years after the war--and a mahogany rocking-chair are the two pieces of furniture which survived the sacking of Judge Morgan"s house and remain to his descendants to-day. Such other furniture as could be utilized was appropriated by negroes.--W. D.
Give the devil his due. Bless Yankees for one thing; they say they tried hard to save our State House.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ANTE-BELLUM HOME OF JUDGE THOMAS GIBBES MORGAN, ON CHURCH STREET, BATON ROUGE, LA.]
BOOK IV
From my sick bed, this 15th day of January, 1863.
LINWOOD, Thursday.
Am I not glad to get another blank book! On Sunday my old one gave out, to my unspeakable distress, and I would have been _desolee_ if I had not had three or four letters to answer, as writing is my chief occupation during my tedious illness. O that unfortunate trip to Port Hudson! Have I not cause to remember and regret it? Two months last Sunday since I have been lying here a cripple, and I am not yet able to take a step. However, on Monday mother sent Dr. Woods as my fourth physician, and I have made up my mind that either he or Nature will effect a cure before long. Wonder how it feels to walk? It makes me weary to see others try it; I always fear that the exertion must be very painful--an absurd idea which I endeavor to keep to myself....
Monday, January 19th.
That blessed Mr. Halsey like an angel of mercy sent me "Kate Coventry"
yesterday, just when I was pining for a _bonne bouche_ of some kind, I did not care what, whether a stick of candy or an equally palatable book. It is delightful to have one"s wishes realized as soon as they are made. I think it rather caused me to relent towards Mr. Halsey; I did not feel half so belligerent as I did just the Sunday before. At all events, _I felt well enough to go down in the evening when he called again_, though I had been too indisposed to do so on a previous occasion. (O Sarah!)
Wheeled into the parlor, there I beheld not my friend alone, but several other individuals whose presence rather startled me. I found myself undergoing the terrors of an introduction to a Colonel Locke, and to my unspeakable surprise, Major Buckner was claiming the privilege of shaking hands with me, and Colonel Steadman was on the other side, and--_was_ that Mr. Halsey? O never! The Mr. Halsey I knew was shockingly careless of his dress, never had his hair smooth; let his beard grow as it would, and wore a most ferocious slouched hat.
This one had taken more than one look at the gla.s.s, a thing I should have imagined the other incapable of doing. He had bestowed the greatest care and attention on his dress, had brought his beard within reasonable limits, had combed his hair with the greatest precision, and held lightly in one hand an elegant little cap that I am sure must be provokingly becoming. Why, he was handsome! _Ah ca_! some mistake, surely, I cried to myself. _My_ Mr. Halsey was not, certainly! "If it be I, as I hope it may be, I"ve a little dog at home who will surely know me," I kept repeating. I resolved to test the little dog"s sagacity, so I pretended to know this apparition, and thanked him for the pleasure he had afforded me by sending me "Kate Coventry." He looked conscious and pleased! The "little dog" had found out his ident.i.ty! I was more puzzled than ever. How account for this wondrous change?... But metamorphosed "John" talked! He was expatiating at a most extraordinary rate, and had been doing so for an hour after supper, when Gibbes drew his chair near me (Gibbes likes to hear what visitors say to his little sister); whereupon timid Mr. Halsey drew his slightly back, and very soon after asked for his horse. O Gibbes! you wretch! what an amusing tete-a-tete you spoiled, you innocent! And the General, of course, only waited for his exit before beginning to tease me unmercifully. I must put an end to this; they shall not bring such unjust charges against him. Yet how am I to make them see reason?
NIGHT.
I am more pleased to-night than I could well express. I have been talking to an old and dear friend, no other than Will Pinckney! His arrival was as unexpected as it was agreeable. The cry of "Here comes Will Pinckney" sent me back to August, "60, when the words were always the forerunner of fun and frolic.... He told me what he called his secrets; of how he had been treated by the War Department (which has, indeed, behaved shockingly towards the Colonel).
Thursday, 22d January.