Miss Ravenel's conversion from secession to loyalty Read online

  CHAPTER II.

  MISS RAVENEL BECOMES ACQUAINTED WITH LIEUTENANT-COLONEL CARTER.

  Mr. Colburne was not tardy in calling on the Ravenels nor careless inimproving chances of encountering them by seeming accident. His modestymade him afraid of being tiresome, and his sensitiveness of beingridiculous; but neither the one terror nor the other prevented him frominflicting a good deal of his society upon the interesting exiles. Threeweeks after his introduction it was his good fortune to be invited tomeet them at a dinner party given them by Professor Whitewood of his ownAlma Mater, the celebrated Winslow University.

  The Whitewood house was of an architecture so common in New Boston thatin describing it I run no risk of identifying it to the curious.Exteriorly it was a square box of brick, stuccoed to represent granite;interiorly it consisted of four rooms on each floor, divided by a hallup and down the centre. This was the original construction, to which hadbeen added a greenhouse, into which you passed through the parlor,carefully balanced by a study into which you passed through the library.Trim, regular, geometrical, one half of the structure weighing to anounce just as much as the other half, and the whole perhaps forming someexact fraction of the entire avoirdupois of the globe, the veryfurniture distributed at measured distances, it was precisely such abuilding as the New Boston soul would naturally create for itself. MissRavenel noticed this with a quickness of perception as to the relationsof mind and matter which astonished and amused Mr. Colburne.

  "If I should be transported on Aladdin's carpet," she said, "fastasleep, to some unknown country, and should wake up and find myself insuch a house as this, I should know that I was in New Boston. How theProfessor must enjoy himself here! This room is exactly twenty feet oneway by twenty feet the other. Then the hall is just ten feet across byjust forty in length. The Professor can look at it and say, Four timesten is forty. Then the greenhouse and the study balance each other likethe paddle-boxes of a steamer. Why will you all be so square?"

  "But how shall we become triangular, or circular, or star-shaped, orcruciform?" asked Colburne. "And what would be the good of it if weshould get into those forms?"

  "You would be so much more picturesque. I should enjoy myself so muchmore in looking at you."

  "I am so sorry you don't like us."

  "How it grieves you!" laughed the young lady. A flush of rose mountedher cheek as she said this; but I must beg the reader to recollect thatMiss Ravenel blushed at anything and nothing.

  "Now here are buildings of all shapes and colors," she proceeded,turning over the leaves of a photographic album which contained views ofVenetian architecture. "Don't you see that these were not built by NewBostonians?"

  They were in the library, whither Miss Whitewood had conducted them toexhibit her father's fine collection of photographs and engravings. Ashy but hospitable and thoughtful maiden, incapable of striking up aflirtation of her own, and with not a selfish matrimonial in her head,but still quite able to sympathise with the loves of others, MissWhitewood had seated her two guests at their art banquet, and then hadgently withdrawn herself from the study so that they might talk of whatthey chose without restraint. It was already reported, with or withoutreason, that Mr. Colburne was interested in the fascinating young exilefrom Louisiana, and that she was not so indifferent to him as sheevidently was to most of the New Boston beaux. This was the reason whythat awkward but good Miss Whitewood, twenty-five years old and withouta suitor, be it remembered, had brought them into the quiet of thestudy. Meantime the door was wide open into the hall, and exactlyopposite to it was another door wide open into the parlor, where, infull view of the young people, sat all the old people, meaning therebyDoctor Ravenel, Professor Whitewood, Mrs. Whitewood, and her prematurelymiddle-aged daughter. The three New Bostonians were listening withevident delight to the fluent and zealous Louisianian. But, instead ofentering upon his conversation, which consisted chiefly of lively satireand declamation directed against slavery and its rebellious partizans,let us revert for a tiresome moment or two, while dinner is preparingand other guests are arriving, to the subject on which Miss Ravenel hasbeen teasing Mr. Colburne.

  New Boston is not a lively nor a sociable place. The principal reasonfor this is that it is inhabited chiefly by New Englanders. Puritanism,the prevailing faith of that land and race, is not only not favorablebut is absolutely noxious to social gayeties, amenities and graces. Isay this in sorrow and not in anger, for New England is the land of mybirth and Puritanism is the creed of my progenitors. And I add as a merematter of justice, that, deficient as the New Bostonians are in timelysmiles and appropriate compliments, bare as they are of jollities andangular in manners and opinions, they have strong sympathies for what isclearly right, and can become enthusiastic in a matter of conscience andbenevolence. If they have not learned how to love the beautiful, theyknow how to love the good and true. But Puritanism is not the onlyreason why the New Bostonians are socially stiff and unsympathetic. Thecity is divided into more than the ordinary number of cliques andcoteries, and they are hedged from each other by an unusually thornyspirit of repulsion. From times now far beyond the memory of the oldestinhabitant, the capsheaf in the social pyramid has been allotted bycommon consent, without much opposition on the part of the otherinhabitants, to the president and professors of Winslow University,their families, and the few whom they choose to honor with theirintimacy. In early days this learned institution was chiefly theologicaland its magnates all clerical; and it was inevitable that men bearingthe priestly dignity should hold high rank in a puritan community.Eighty or a hundred years ago, moreover, the professor, with his salaryof a thousand dollars yearly was a nabob of wealth in a city where therewere not ten merchants and not one retired capitalist who could boast anequal income. Finally, learning is a title to consideration which alwayshas been and still is recognized by the majority of respectableAmericans. An objectionable feature of this sacred inner circle ofsociety is that it contains none of those seraphim called younggentlemen. The sons of the professors, excepting the few who becometutors and eventually succeed their fathers, leave New Boston for largerfields of enterprise; the daughters of the professors, enamored oflearning and its votaries alone, will not dance, nor pic-nic, much lessintermarry, with the children of shop-keepers, shippers andmanufacturers; and thus it happens that almost the only beaux whom youwill discover at the parties given in this Upper Five Hundred areslender and beardless undergraduates.

  From the time of Colburne's introduction to the Ravenels it was thedesire of his heart to make New Boston a pleasant place to them; and bydint of spreading abroad the fame of their patriotism and its ennoblingmeed of martyrdom, he was able, in those excitable days, to infect withthe same fancy all his relatives and most of his acquaintances; so thatin a short time the exiles received quite a number of hospitable callsand invitations. The Doctor, travelled man of the world as he was, madeno sort of difficulty in enjoying or seeming to enjoy these attentions.If he did not sincerely and heartily relish the New Bostonians, sodifferent in flavor of manner and education from the society in which hehad been educated, he at least made them one and all believe that theywere luxuries to his palate. He became shortly the most popular man fora dinner party or an evening _conversazione_ that was ever known in thatcity of geometry and puritanism. Except when they had wandered outsideof New Boston, or rather, I should say, outside of New England, and gotacross the ocean, or south of Mason and Dixon's line, these good andgrave burghers had never beheld such a radiant, smiling, universallysympathetic and perennially sociable gentleman of fifty as Ravenel. Amost interesting spectacle was it to see him meet and greet one of theelder magnates of the university, usually a solid and sincere but shyand somewhat unintelligible person, who always meant three or four timesas much as he said or looked, and whose ice melted away from him leavinghim free to smile, as our southern friend fervently grasped his frigidhand and beamed with tropical warmth into his arctic spirit. Such agreeting was as exhilarating as a pint of sherry to the sad, seden
taryscholar, who had just come from a weary day's grubbing among Hebrewroots, and whose afternoon recreation had been a walk in the citycemetery.

  There were not wanting good people who feared the Doctor; who weresuspicious of this inexhaustible courtesy and alarmed at theseconversational powers of fascination; who doubted whether poison mightnot infect the pleasant talk, as malaria fills the orange-scented air ofLouisiana.

  "I consider him a very dangerous man; he might do a great deal of harmif he chose," remarked one of those conscientious but uncharitableladies whom I have regarded since my childhood with a mixture ofveneration and dislike. Thin-lipped, hollow-cheeked, narrow-chested,with only one lung and an intermittent digestion, without a singlerounded outline or graceful movement, she was a sad example of what theNew England east winds can do in enfeebling and distorting the humanform divine. Such are too many of the New Boston women when they reachthat middle age which should be physically an era of adipose, andmorally of charity. Even her smile was a woful phenomenon; it seemed tobe rather a symptom of pain than an expression of pleasure; it was akind of griping smile, like that of an infant with the colic.

  "If he chose! What harm would he choose to do?" expostulated Colburne,for whose ears this warning was intended.

  "I can't precisely make out whether he is orthodox or not," replied theinexorable lady. "And if he _is_ heterodox, what an awful power he hasfor deceiving and leading away the minds of the young! He is altogethertoo agreeable to win my confidence until I know that he is guided andrestrained by grace."

  "That is the most unjust thing that I ever heard of," broke out Colburneindignantly. "To condemn a man because he is charming! If the converseof the rule is true, Mrs. Ruggles--if unpleasant people are to beadmired because they are such--then some of us New Bostonians ought tobe objects of adoration."

  "I have my opinions, Mr. Colburne," retorted the lady, who was somewhatstung, although not clever enough to comprehend how badly.

  "It makes a great difference with an object who looks at it," continuedthe young man. "I sometimes wonder what the ants think of us humanbeings. Do they understand our capacities, duties and destinies? Or dothey look upon us from what might be called a pismire point of view?"

  Colburne could say such things because he was a popular favorite. Topeople who, like the New Bostonians, did not demand a high finish ofmanner, this young man was charming. He was sympathetic, earnest in hisfeelings, as frank as such a modest fellow could be, and among friendshad any quantity of expansion and animation. He would get into a gale ofjesting and laughter over a game of whist, provided his fellow playerswere in anywise disposed to be merry. On such occasions his eyes becameso bright and his cheeks so flushed that he seemed luminous with goodhumor. His laugh was sonorous, hearty, and contagious; and he was not atall fastidious as to what he laughed at: it was sufficient for him if hesaw that you meant to be witty. In conversation he was very pleasant,and had only one questionable trick, which was a truly American habit ofhyperbole. When he was excited he had a droll, absent-minded way ofrunning his fingers through his wavy brown hair, until it stood up inpicturesque masses which were very becoming. His forehead was broad andclear; his complexion moderately light, with a strong color in thecheeks; his nose straight and handsome, and other features sufficientlyregular; his eyes of a light hazel, and remarkable for their gentleness.There was nothing hidden, nothing stern, in his expression--you saw at aglance that he was the embodiment of frankness and good nature. Inperson he was strongly built, and he had increased his vigor bysystematic exercise. He had been one of the best gymnasts and oarsmen incollege, and still kept up his familiarity with swinging-bars and racingshells. His firm white arms were well set on broad shoulders and a fullchest; and a pair of long, vigorous legs completed an uncommonly finefigure. Pardonably proud of the strength which he had in part created,he loved to exhibit gymnastic feats, and to talk of the matches in whichhe had been stroke-oar. It was the only subject on which he exhibitedpersonal vanity. To sum up, he was considered in his set the finest andmost agreeable young man in New Boston.

  Let us now return to the dinner of Professor Whitewood. The partyconsisted of eight persons; the male places being filled by ProfessorWhitewood, Doctor Ravenel, Colburne, and a Lieutenant-Colonel Carter;the female by Mrs. and Miss Whitewood, Miss Ravenel, and John Whitewood,Jr. This last named individual, the son and heir of the host, a youth oftwenty years of age, was a very proper person to fill the position offourth lady. Thin, pale and almost sallow, with pinched featuressurmounted by a high and roomy forehead, tall, slender, narrow-chestedand fragile in form, shy, silent, and pure as the timidest of girls, hewas an example of what can be done with youthful blood, muscle, mind andfeeling by the studious severities of a puritan university. MissRavenel, accustomed to far more masculine men, felt a contempt for himat the first glance, saying to herself, How dreadfully ladylike! She wasfar better satisfied with the appearance of the stranger,Lieutenant-Colonel Carter. A little above the middle height he was, witha full chest, broad shoulders and muscular arms, brown curling hair, anda monstrous brown mustache, forehead not very high, nose straight andchin dimpled, brown eyes at once audacious and mirthful, and a dark richcomplexion which made one think of pipes of sherry wine as well as ofyears of sunburnt adventure. When he was presented to her he looked herfull in the eyes with a bold flash of interest which caused her to colorfrom her forehead to her shoulders. In age he might have been anywherefrom thirty-three to thirty-seven. In manner he was a thorough man ofthe world without the insinuating suavity of her father, but with allhis self-possession and readiness.

  Colburne had not expected this alarming phenomenon. He was clever enoughto recognize the stranger's gigantic social stature at a glance, andlike the Israelitish spies in the presence of the Amakim, he felthimself shrink to a grasshopper mediocrity.

  At table the company was arranged as follows. At the head sat Mrs.Whitewood, with Dr. Ravenel on her right, and Miss Whitewood on herleft. At the foot was the host, flanked on the right by Miss Ravenel andon the left by Lieutenant-Colonel Carter. The two central side placeswere occupied by young Whitewood and Colburne, the latter being betweenMiss Whitewood and Miss Ravenel. With a quickness of perception which Isuspect he would not have shown had not his heart been interested in thequestion he immediately decided that Doctor Ravenel was intended to go_tete-a-tete_ with Mrs. Whitewood, and this strange officer with MissRavenel, while he was to devote himself to Miss Whitewood. The worryingthought drove every brilliant idea from his head. He could no more talkand be merry than could that hermaphrodite soul whose lean body andcadaverous countenance fronted him on the opposite side of the table.Miss Whitewood, who was nearly as great a student as her brother, wasalmost as deficient in the powers of speech; she made an effort, firstin the direction of the coming Presentation Day, then towards somebody'snotes on Cicero, finally upon the weather; at last, with a woman'ssympathetic divination, she guessed the cause of Colburne's gloom, andsank into a pitying silence. As for Mrs. Whitewood, amiable woman andexcellent housewife, though an invalid, her conversational facultyconsisted in listening. Thus nobody talked except the Ravenels,Lieutenant-Colonel Carter, and Professor Whitewood.

  Colburne endeavored to conceal his troubled condition by a smile ofcounterfeit interest in the conversation. Then he grew ashamed ofhimself, and tearing off his fictitious smirk, substituted a look ofstern thought, thereby exhibiting an honest countenance, but not onesuitable to the occasion. There was sherry on the table; not becausewine-bibbing was a habit of the Whitewoods, inasmuch as the hostess hadbrought it out of the family medical stores with a painful twinge ofconscience; but there it was, in deference to the supposed tastes of thearmy gentleman and the strangers from the south. Colburne was tempted torouse himself with a glass of it, but did not, being a pledged member ofa temperance society. Instead of this he made a gallant moral effort,and succeeded in talking copiously to the junior Whitewood. But as whathe said is of little consequence to our story, let us go back a fe
wmoments and learn what it was that had depressed his spirits.

  "I am delighted to meet some one from Louisiana, Miss Ravenel," said theLieutenant-Colonel, after the master of the house had said grace.

  "Why? Are you a Louisianian?" asked the young lady with a blush ofinterest which was the first thing that troubled Colburne.

  "Not precisely. I came very near calling myself such at one time, Iliked the State and the people so much. I was stationed there forseveral years."

  "Indeed! At New Orleans?"

  "Not so fortunate," replied the Lieutenant Colonel with a smile and aslight bow, which was as much as to say that, if he had been stationedthere, he might have hoped for the happiness of knowing Miss Ravenelearlier. "I was stationed in the arsenal at Baton Rouge."

  "I never was at Baton Rouge; I mean I never visited there. I have passedthere repeatedly in going up and down the river, just while the boatmade its landings, you know. What a beautiful place it is! I don't meanthe buildings, but the situation, the bluffs."

  "Precisely. Great relief to get to Baton Rouge and see a hill or twoafter staying in the lowlands."

  "Oh! don't say anything against the lowlands," begged Miss Ravenel.

  "I won't," promised the Lieutenant Colonel. "Give you my word of honor Iwon't do it, not even in the strictest privacy."

  There was a cavalier dash in the gentleman's tone and manner; he lookedand spoke as if he felt himself quite good enough for his company. Andso he was, at least in respect to descent and social position; for nofamily in Virginia boasted a purer strain of old colonial blue bloodthan the Carters. In addition the Lieutenant Colonel was a gentleman byright of a graduation from West Point, and of a commission in theregular service which dated back to the times when there were novolunteers and few civilian appointments, and when by consequence armyofficers formed a caste of aristocratic military brahmins. From theregular service, however, in which he had been only a lieutenant, hisname had vanished several years previous. His lieutenant-colonelcy was avolunteer commission issued by the governor of the State. It was in theSecond Barataria, a three-months' regiment, which was shortly todistinguish itself by a masterly retreat from Bull Run. Carter hadinjured his ancle by a fall from his horse, and was away from the armyon a sick leave of twenty days, avoiding the hospitals of Washington,and giving up his customary enjoyments in New York for the sake ofattending to business which will transpire during this narrative. Hisleave had nearly expired, but he had applied to the War Department foran extension of ten days, and was awaiting an answer from that awfulheadquarters with the utmost tranquillity. If he found himself in thecondition of being absent without leave, he knew how to explain thingsto a military commission or a board of inquiry.

  The Lieutenant-Colonel liked the appearance of the young person whom hehad been invited to meet. In the first place, he said to himself, shehad a charming mixture of girlish freshness and of the thorough-bredsociety air which he considered indispensable to a lady. In the secondplace she looked somewhat like his late wife; and although he had been awasteful and neglectful husband, he still kept a moderately soft spot inhis heart for the memory of the departed one; not being in this respectdifferent, I understand, from the majority of widowers. He saw that MissRavenel was willing to talk any kind of nothing so long as she couldtalk of her native State, and that therefore he could please her withoutmuch intellectual strain or chance of rivalry. Consequently he prattledand made prattle for some minutes about Louisiana.

  "Were you acquainted with the McAllisters?" he wanted to know. "Verynatural that you shouldn't be. They lived up the river, and seldom wentto the city. They had such a noble plantation, though! You could enjoythe true, old-style, princely Louisiana hospitality there. Splendidlife, that of a southern planter. If I hadn't been in the army--orrather, if I could have done everything that I fancied, I should havebecome a sugar planter. Of course I should have run myself out, for ittakes a frightful capital and some business faculty, or else the best ofluck. By the way, I am afraid those fine fellows will all of them cometo grief if this war continues five or six years."

  "Five or six years!" exclaimed Professor Whitewood in astonishment, butnot in dismay, so utter was his incredulity. "Do you suppose, Colonel,that the rebels can resist for five or six years?"

  "Why not? Ten or twelve millions of people on their own ground, anddifficult ground too, will make a terrific resistance. They are as wellprepared as we are, and better. Frederic of Prussia wasn't conquered inseven years. I don't see anything unreasonable in allowing these fellowsfive or six. By the way," he laughed, "I am giving you an honestprofessional opinion. Talking outside--to the rabble--talking as apatriot," (here he laughed again) "and not as an officer, I say threemonths. Do it in three months, gentlemen!" he added, setting his headback and swelling his chest in imitation of the conventional popularorator.

  Miss Ravenel laughed outright to hear the enemies of her sectionsatirized.

  "But how will the South stand a contest of five or six years?" queriedthe Professor.

  "Oh, badly, of course; get whipped, of course; that is, if we developeenergy and military talent. We have the resources to thrash them. War inthe long run is pretty much a matter of arithmetical calculation. Oh,Miss Ravenel, I was about to ask you, did you know the Slidells?"

  "Very slightly."

  "Why slightly? Didn't you like them? I thought they were very agreeablepeople; though, to be sure, they were _parvenus_."

  "They were very ultra, you know; and papa was of the other party."

  "Oh, indeed!" said the Lieutenant-Colonel, turning his head andsurveying Ravenel with curiosity, not because he was loyal, but becausehe was the young lady's papa. "How I regret that I had no chance to makeyour father's acquaintance in Louisiana. Give you my honor that I wasn'tso simple as to prefer Baton Rouge to New Orleans. I tried to getordered to the crescent city, but the War Department was obdurate. I amconfident," he added, with his audacious smile, half flattering and halfquizzical, "that if the Washington people had known _all_ that I lost bynot getting to New Orleans, they would have relented."

  It was perfectly clear to Miss Ravenel that he meant to pay her acompliment. It occurred to her that she was probably in short dresseswhen the gallant Lieutenant-Colonel was on duty at Baton Rouge, and thusmissed a chance of seeing her in New Orleans. But she did not allude tothis ludicrous possibility; she only colored at his audacity, and said,"Oh, it's such a lovely city! I think it is far preferable to New York."

  "But is it not a very wicked city?" asked the host, quite seriously.

  "Mr. Whitewood! How can you say that to me, a native of it?" shelaughed.

  "Jerusalem," pursued the Professor, getting out of his scrape with akind of ponderous dexterity, like an elephant backing off a shakybridge, and taking his time about it, like Noah spending a hundred andtwenty years in building his ark--"Jerusalem proved her wickedness bycasting out the prophets. It seems to me that your presence here, andthat of your father, as exiles, is sufficient proof of the iniquity ofNew Orleans."

  "Upon my honor, Professor!" burst out the Lieutenant-Colonel, "you beatthe best man I ever saw at a compliment."

  It was now Professor Whitewood's pale and wrinkled cheek which flushed,partly with gratification, partly with embarrassment. His wife surveyedhim in mild astonishment, almost fearing that he had indulged in muchsherry.

  The Lieutenant-Colonel, by the way, had taken to the wine in a stylewhich showed that he was used to the taste of it, and liked the effects.His conversation grew more animated; his bass voice rang from end to endof the table, startling Mrs. Whitewood; his fine brown eyes flashed, anda few drops of perspiration beaded his brow. It must not be supposedthat the sherry alone could do as much as this for so old a campaigner.That afternoon, as he lounged and yawned in the reading-room of the NewBoston House, he had thought of Professor Whitewood's invitation, and,feeling low-spirited and stupid, had concluded not to go to the dinner,although in the morning he had sent a note of acceptance. Then, feeling
low-spirited and stupid, as I said, he took a glass of ale, andsubsequently a stiffish whiskey-punch, following up the treatment with asegar, which by producing a dryness of the throat, induced him to tryanother whiskey-punch. Fortified by twenty-five cents' worth of liquor(at the then prices) he felt his ambition and industry revive. By Jove,Carter, he said to himself, you must go to that dinner-party. Whitewoodis just one of those pious heavyweights who can bring this puritanicalgovernor to terms. Put on your best toggery, Carter, and make your bow,and say how-de-do.

  Thus it was that when the Professor's sherry entered into theLieutenant-Colonel, it found an ally there which aided it to produce theafore-mentioned signs of excitement. Colburne, I grieve to say, almostrejoiced in detecting these symptoms, thinking that surely Miss Ravenelwould not fancy a man who was, to say the least, inordinately convivial.Alas! Miss Ravenel had been too much accustomed to just such gentlemenin New Orleans society to see anything disgusting or even surprising inthe manner of the Lieutenant-Colonel. She continued to prattle with himin her pleasantest manner about Louisiana, not in the least restrainedby Colburne's presence, and only now and then casting an anxious glanceat her father; for Ravenel the father, man of the world as he was, didnot fancy the bacchanalian New Orleans type of gentility, havingobserved that it frequently brought itself and its wife and children togrief.

  The dinner lasted an hour and a half, by which time it was nearlytwilight. The ordinary prandial hour of the Whitewoods, as well as ofmost fashionable New Boston people, was not later than two o'clock inthe afternoon, but this had been considered a special occasion onaccount of the far-off origin of some of the guests, and the meal hadtherefore commenced at five. On leaving the table the party went intothe parlor and had coffee. Then Miss Ravenel thought it wise topropitiate her father's searching eye by quitting the Lieutenant-Colonelwith his pleasant worldly ways and his fascinating masculine maturity,and going to visit the greenhouse in company with that pale bit of humancelery, John Whitewood. Carter politely stood up to the rack for a whilewith Miss Whitewood, but, finding it dry fodder to his taste, soon madehis adieux. Colburne shortly followed, in a state of mind to questionthe goodness of Providence in permitting lieutenant-colonels.