Miss Ravenel's conversion from secession to loyalty Read online

  CHAPTER IV.

  THE DRAMATIC PERSONAGES GO ON A PIC-NIC, AND STUDY THE WAYS OF NEWBOSTON.

  When the Lieutenant-Colonel awoke in the morning he did not feel muchlike going on a pic-nic. He had a slight ache in the top of his head, ahuskiness in the throat, a woolliness on the tongue, a feverishness inthe cuticle, and a crawling tremulousness in the muscles, as though themolecules of his flesh were separately alive and intertwiningthemselves. He drowsily called to mind a red-nosed old gentleman whom hehad seen at a bar, trying in vain to gather up his change with shakyfingers, and at last exclaiming, "Curse the change!" and walking offhastily in evident mortification.

  "Ah, Carter! you will come to that yet," thought theLieutenant-Colonel.--"To be sure," he added after a moment, "thissobering one's self by main strength of will, as I did last night, is anextra trial, and enough to shake any man's system.--But how aboutbreakfast and that confounded pic-nic?" was his next reflection."Carter, temperance man as you are, you must take a cocktail, or youwon't be able to eat a mouthful this morning."

  He rang; ordered an eye-opener, stiff; swallowed it, and looked at hiswatch. Eight; never mind; he would wash and shave; then decide betweenbreakfast and pic-nic. Thanks to his martial education he was a rapiddresser, and it still lacked a quarter of nine when he appeared in thedining saloon. He had time therefore to eat a mutton chop, but he onlylooked at it with a disgusted eye, his stomach being satisfied with aroll and a cup of coffee. In the outer hall he lighted a segar, butafter smoking about an inch of it, threw the rest away. It wasdecidedly one of his qualmish mornings, and he was glad to get a fullbreath of out of door air.

  "Is my hamper ready?" he said to one of the hall-boys.

  "Sir?"

  "My hamper, confound you;" repeated the Lieutenant-Colonel, who was moreirritable than usual this morning. "The basket that I ordered lastnight. Go and ask the clerk."

  "Yes, sir," said the boy when he returned. "It's all right, sir. Thereit is, sir, behind the door."

  The omnibus, a little late of course, appeared about a quarter pastnine. Besides Colburne it contained three ladies, two of abouttwenty-five and one of thirty-five, accompanied by an equal number ofbeardless, slender, jauntily dressed youths whom the Lieutenant-Coloneltook for the ladies' younger brothers, inferring that pic-nics werefamily affairs in New Boston. Surveying these juvenile gentlemen withsome contempt, he was about to say to Colburne, "Very sorry, my dearfellow, but really don't feel well enough to go out to-day," when hecaught sight of Miss Ravenel.

  "Are you going?" she asked with a blush which was so indescribablyflattering that he instantly responded, "Yes, indeed."

  Behind Miss Ravenel came the doctor, who immediately inquired afterCarter's health with an air of friendly interest that contrastedcuriously with the glance of suspicion which he bent on him as soon ashis back was turned. Libbie hastened into the omnibus, very much afraidthat her father would order her back to her room. It was only by dint ofearnest begging that she had obtained his leave to join the pic-nic, andshe knew that he had given it without suspecting that this sherry-lovingarmy gentleman would be of the party.

  "But where are your matrons, Mr. Colburne?" asked the doctor. "I seeonly young ladies, who themselves need matronizing."

  The beauty of thirty-five looked graciously at him, and judged him aperfect gentleman.

  "Mrs. Whitewood goes out in her own carriage," answered Colburne.

  The Doctor bowed, professed himself delighted with the arrangements,wished them all a pleasant excursion, and turned away with a smilingface which became exceedingly serious as he walked slowly up stairs. Itwas not thus that young ladies were allowed to go a pleasuring at NewOrleans. The severe proprieties of French manners with regard to_demoiselles_ were in considerable favor there. Her mother never wouldhave been caught in this way, he thought, and was anxious and repentantand angry with himself, until his daughter returned.

  In the omnibus Colburne did the introductions; and now Carter discoveredthat the beardless young gentlemen were not the brothers of the ladies,but most evidently their cavaliers; and was therefore left to infer thatthe beaux of New Boston are blessed with an immortal youth, or ratherchildhood. He could hardly help laughing aloud to think how he had beencaught in such a nursery sort of pic-nic. He glanced from one downy faceto another with a cool, mocking look which no one understood but MissRavenel, who was the only other person in the party to whom the sight ofsuch juvenile gallants was a rarity. She bit her lips to repress asmile, and desperately opened the conversation.

  "I am so anxious to see the Eagle's Nest," she said to one of thestudents.

  "Oh! you never saw it?" he replied.

  There were two things in this response which surprised Miss Ravenel. Inthe first place the young gentleman blushed violently at beingaddressed; in the second, he spoke in a very hoarse and weak tone, hisvoice being not yet established. Unable to think of anything further tosay, he turned for aid to the maiden of thirty-five, between whom andhimself there was a tender feeling, as appeared openly later in theday. She set him on his intellectual pins by commencing a conversationon the wooden-spoon exhibition.

  "What is the wooden-spoon?" asked Lillie.

  "It is a burlesque honor in college," answered the youth. "It used to begiven to the stupidest fellow in the graduating class. Now it's given tothe jolliest fellow--most popular fellow--smartest fellow, that doesn'ttake a real honor."

  "Allow me to ask, sir, are you a candidate?" inquired theLieutenant-Colonel.

  Miss Ravenel cringed at this unprovoked and not very brilliantbrutality. The collegian merely stammered "No, sir," and blushedimmoderately. He was too much puzzled by the other's impassable stare tocomprehend the sneer at once; but he studied it much during the day, andthat night writhed over the memory of it till towards morning. BothCarter and the lady of thirty-five ought to have been ashamed ofthemselves for taking unfair advantage of the simplicity andsensitiveness of this lad; but the feminine sinner had at least thisexcuse, that it was the angelic spirit of love, and not the demoniacspirit of scorn, which prompted her conduct. Perceiving that her boy wasbeing abused, she inveigled him into a corner of the vehicle, where theycould talk together without interruption. The conversation of lovers isnot usually interesting to outsiders except as a subject of laughter; itis frequently stale and flat to a degree which seems incomprehensiblewhen you consider the strong feelings of the interlocutors. This is theordinary sort of thing, at least in New Boston:--

  _Lady._ (smiling) Did you go out yesterday?

  _Gent._ (smiling) Yes.

  _Lady._ Where?

  _Gent._ Only down to the post-office.

  _Lady._ Many people in the streets?

  _Gent._ Not very many.

  And all the while the two persons are not thinking of the walk, nor ofthe post-office, nor of the people in the streets, nor of anything ofwhich they speak. They are thinking of each other; they are prattlingmerely to be near each other; they are so full of each other that theycannot talk of foreign subjects interestingly; and so the babble has ameaning which the unsympathetic bye-stander does not comprehend.

  After circulating through the city to pick up the various invited ones,the omnibus was joined by a second omnibus and two or three familyrockaways. The little fleet of vehicles then sailed into the country,and at the end of an hour's voyage came to anchor under the lee of awooded cliff called the Eagle's Nest, which was the projected site ofthe pic-nic. Up the long slope which formed the back of the cliff, anumber of baskets and demijohns were carried by the youthful beaux ofthe party with a child-like zeal which older gallants might not haveexhibited. Carter's weighty hamper was taken care of by a couple ofjuniors, who jumped to the task on learning that it belonged to a UnitedStates army officer. He offered repeatedly to relieve them, but theywould not suffer it. In a roundabout and inarticulate manner they wereexhibiting the fervent patriotism of the time, as well as that perpetualworship which young men pay to their superiors in age and knowledge
ofthe world. And oh! how was virtue rewarded when the basket was openedand its contents displayed! It was not for the roast chicken that thetwo frolicsome juniors cared: the companion baskets around were crammedwith edibles of all manner of flesh and fowl; it was the sight of sixbottles of champagne which made their eyes rejoice. But with a holyhorror equal to their wicked joy did all the matrons of the party, andindeed more than half of the younger people, stare. Carter's champagnewas the only spirit of a vinous or ardent nature present. And when heproduced two bunches of segars from his pockets and proceeded todistribute them, the moral excitation reached its height. Immediatelythere were opposing partisans in the pic-nic: those who meant to take aglass of champagne and smoke a segar, if it were only for the wicked funof the thing; and those who meant, not only that they would not smokenor drink themselves, but that nobody else should. These last formedlittle groups and discussed the affair with conscientious bitterness.But what to do? The atrocity puzzled them by its very novelty. Thememory of woman did not go back to the time when an aristocratic NewBoston pic-nic had been so desecrated. I say the memory of _woman_advisedly and upon arithmetical calculation; for in this party the ageof the males averaged at least five years less than that of the females.

  "Why don't you stop it, Mrs. Whitewood?" said the maiden of thirty-five,with girlish enthusiasm. "You are the oldest person here." (Mrs.Whitewood did not look particularly flattered by this statement.) "Youhave a perfect right to order anything." (Mrs. Whitewood looked as ifshe would like to order the young lady to let her alone.) "If I wereyou, I would step out there and say, Gentlemen, this must be stopped."

  Mrs. Whitewood might have replied, Why don't you say it yourself?--youare old enough. But she did not; such sarcastic observations neveroccurred to her good-natured soul; nor, had she been endowed withthousands of similar conceits, would she have dared utter one. It wasimpossible to rub her up to the business of confronting and putting downthe adherents of the champagne basket. She did think of speaking toLieutenant-Colonel Carter privately about it, but before she coulddecide in what terms to address him, the last bottle had been cracked,and then of course it was useless to say anything. So in much horror ofspirit and with many self-reproaches for her weakness, she gazedhelplessly upon what she considered a scene of wicked revelry. In factthere was a good deal of jollity and racket. The six bottles ofchampagne made a pretty strong dose for the unaccustomed heads of thedozen lads and three or four young ladies who finished them. Carterhimself, cloyed with the surfeit of yesterday, took almost nothing, tothe wonder, and even, I suspect, to the disappointment of the temperanceparty. But he made himself dreadfully obnoxious by urging his Silleryupon every one, including the Whitewoods and the maiden of thirty-five.The latter declined the proffered glass with an air of virtuousindignation which struck him as uncivil, more particularly as it evokeda triumphant smile from the adherents of lemonade. With a crueltywithout parallel, and for which I shall not attempt to excuse him, heimmediately offered the bumper to the young gentleman on whose arm thelady leaned, with the observation, "Madam, I hope you will allow yourson to take a little."

  The unhappy couple walked away in a speechless condition. The twojuniors heretofore mentioned burst into hysterical gulphs of laughter,and then pretended that it was a simultaneous attack of coughing. Therewere no more attempts to put down the audacious army gentleman, and hewas accorded that elbow-room which we all grant to a bull in achina-shop. He was himself somewhat shocked by the sensation which hehad produced.

  "What an awful row!" he whispered to Colburne. "I have plunged thisnursery into a state of civil war. When you said pic-nic, how could Isuppose that it was a Sabbath-school excursion? By the way, it isn'tSunday, is it? Do you always do it this way in New Boston? But you arenot immaculate. You do some things here which would draw down the frownof society in other places. Look at those couples--a young fellow and agirl--strolling off by themselves among the thickets. Some of them havebeen out of sight for half an hour. I should think it would make talk. Ishould think Mrs. Whitewood, who seems to be matron in chief, would stopit. I tell you, it wouldn't do in New York or Philadelphia, or any suchplace, except among the lower classes. You don't catch our youngLouisianienne making a dryad of herself. I heard one of these lads askher to take a walk in the grove on top of the hill, and I saw herdecline with a blush which certainly expressed astonishment, and, Ithink, indignation. Now how the devil can these old girls, who havelived long enough to be able to put two and two together, be so dem'dinconsistent? After regarding me with horror for offering them a glassof champagne, they will commit imprudences which make them appear as ifthey had drunk a bottle of it. And yet, just look. I have too muchdelicacy to ask one of those young ones to stroll off with me in thebushes.--Won't you have a segar? I don't believe Miss Ravenel objects totobacco. They smoke in Louisiana; yes, and they chew and drink, too.Shocking fast set. I really hope the child never will marry down there.I take an interest in her. You and I will go out there some day, andreconquer her patrimony, and put her in possession of it, and then askher which she will have."

  Colburne had already talked a good deal with Miss Ravenel. She was sodiscouraging to the student beaux, and Carter had been so general in hisattentions with a view to getting the champagne into circulation, thatshe had fallen chiefly to the young lawyer. As to the women, she did notmuch enjoy their conversation. At that time everybody at the North waspassionately loyal, especially those who would not in any chance becalled upon to fight--and this loyalty was expressed towards persons ofsecessionist proclivities with a frank energy which the latterconsidered brutal incivility. From the male sex Miss Ravenel obtainedsome compassion or polite forbearance, but from her own very little; andthe result was that she avoided ladies, and might perhaps have beendriven to suffer the boy beaux, only that she could make sure of thesociety of Colburne. Important as this young gentleman was to her, shecould not forbear teasing him concerning the local peculiarities of NewBoston. This afternoon she was satirical upon the juvenile gallants.

  "You seem to be the only man in New Boston," she said. "I suppose allthe males are executed when they are found guilty of being twenty-one.How came you to escape? Perhaps you are the executioner. Why don't youdo your office on the Lieutenant-Colonel?"

  "I should like to," answered Colburne.

  Miss Ravenel colored, but gave no other sign of comprehension.

  "I don't like old beaux," persisted Colburne.

  "Oh! I do. When I left New Orleans I parted from a beau of forty."

  "Forty! How could you come away?"

  "Why, you know that I hated to leave New Orleans."

  "Yes; but I never knew the reason before. Did you say forty?"

  "Yes, sir; just forty. Is there anything strange in a man of forty beingagreeable? I don't see that you New Bostonians find it difficult to likeladies of forty. But I havn't told you the worst. I have another beau,whom I like better than anybody, who is fifty-five."

  "Your father."

  "You are very clever. As you are so bright to-day perhaps you canexplain a mystery to me. Why is it that these grown women are so fond ofthe society of these students? They don't seem to care to get a wordfrom Lieutenant-Colonel Carter. I don't think they are crazy after you.They are altogether absorbed in making the time pass pleasantly to theseboys."

  "It is so in all little university towns. Can't you understand it? Whena girl is fifteen a student is naturally a more attractive object to herthan a mechanic or a shopkeeper's boy. She thinks that to be a studentis the chief end of man; that the world was created in order that theremight be students. Frequently he is a southerner; and you know howcharming southerners are."

  "Oh, I know all about it."

  "Well, the girl of fifteen takes a fancy to a freshman. She flirts withhim all through the four years of his under-graduate course. Then hedeparts, promising to come back, but never keeping his promise. Perhapsby this time she is really attached to him; and that, or habit, or heroriginal taste for romance and st
rangers, gives her a cant for life; shenever flirts with anything but a student afterwards; can't relish a manwho hasn't a flavor of Greek and Latin. Generally she sticks to thesenior class. When she gets into the thirties she sometimes enters thetheological seminary in search of prey. But she never likes anythingwhich hasn't a student smack. It reminds one of the story that when ashark has once tasted human flesh he will not eat any other unlessdriven to it by hunger."

  "What a brutal comparison!"

  "One consequence of this fascination," continued Colburne, "is that NewBoston is full of unmarried females. There is a story in college that astudent threw a stone at a dog, and, missing him, hit seven old maids.On the other hand there are some good results. These old girls arebookish and mature, and their conversation is improving to theunder-graduates. They sacrifice themselves, as woman's wont is, for thegood of others."

  "If you ever come to New Orleans I will show you a fascinating lady ofthirty. She is my aunt--or cousin--I hardly know which to call her--Mrs.Larue. She has beautiful black hair and eyes. She is a true type ofLouisiana."

  "And you are not. What right had you to be a blonde?"

  "Because I am my father's daughter. His eyes are blue. He came from theup-country of South Carolina. There are plenty of blondes there."

  This conversation, the reader perceives, is not monumentally grand orimportant. Next in flatness to the ordinary talk of two lovers comes, Ithink, the ordinary talk of two young persons of the opposite sexes. Inthe first place they are young, and therefore have few great ideas tointerchange and but limited ranges of experience to compare; in thesecond place they are hampered and embarrassed by the mute but potentconsciousness of sex and the alarming possibility of marriage. I aminclined to give much credit to the saying that only married people andvicious people are agreeably fluent in an assembly of both sexes. Whentherefore I report the conversation of these two uncorrupted youngpersons as being of a moderately dull quality, I flatter myself that Iam publishing the very truth of nature. But it follows that we had bestfinish with this pic-nic as soon as possible. We will suppose thechickens and sandwiches eaten, the champagne drunk, the segars smoked,the party gathered into the omnibusses and rockaways, and the vehicle inwhich we are chiefly interested at the door of the New Boston House. Asthe Lieutenant-Colonel enters with Miss Ravenel a waiter hands him atelegraphic message.

  "Excuse me," he says, and reads as they ascend the stairs together. Onthe parlor floor he halts and takes her hand with an air of moreseriousness than he has yet exhibited.

  "Miss Ravenel, I must bid you good-bye. I am so sorry! I leave forWashington immediately. My application for extension of leave has beenrefused. I do sincerely hope that I shall meet you again."

  "Good bye," she simply said, not unaware that her hand had been pressed,and for that reason unable or unwilling to add more.

  He left her there, hurried to his room, packed his valise, and was offin twenty minutes; for when it was necessary to move quick he could puton a rate of speed not easily equalled.

  Miss Ravenel walked to her father's room in deep meditation. Withoutstating the fact in words she felt that the presence of this mature,masculine, worldly gentleman of the army was agreeable to her, and thathis farewell had been an unpleasant surprise. If he was inebriate,dissipated, dangerous, it must be remembered that she did not know it.In simply smelling of wine and segars he had an odor of Louisiana, towhich she had been accustomed from childhood even in the grave societyof her father's choice, and which was naturally grateful to the homesicksensibilities of the exiled girl.

  For the last hour or two Doctor Ravenel had paced his room in no littleexcitement. He was a notably industrious man, and had devoted the day towriting an article on the mineralogy of Arkansas; but even this labor,the utterance of a life-long scientific enthusiasm, could not divert himfrom what I may call maternal anxieties. Why did I let her go on thatsilly expedition? he repeated to himself. It is the last time;absolutely the last.

  At this moment she entered the room and kissed him with more thanordinary effusion. She meant to forestall his expected reproof for herunexpectedly long absence; moreover she felt a very little lonely and inneed of unusual affection in consequence of that farewell.

  "My dear! how late you are!" said the unappeased Doctor. "How could youstay out so? How could you do it? The idea of staying out till dusk; Iam astonished. Really, girls have no prudence. They are no more fit totake care of themselves amid the dangers and stupidities of society thanso many goslings among the wheels and hoofs of a crowded street."

  Do not suppose that Miss Ravenel bore these reproofs with the serenecountenance of Fra Angelico's seraphs, softly beaming out of a halo ofeternal love. She was very much mortified, very much hurt and even alittle angry. A hard word from her father was an exceeding great trialto her. The tears came into her eyes and the color into her cheeks andneck, while all her slender form trembled, not visibly, but consciously,as if her veins were filled with quicksilver.

  "Late! Why, no papa!" (Running to the window and pointing to thecrimson west.) "Why, the sun is only just gone down. Look for yourself,papa."

  "Well; _that_ is too late. If for nothing else, just think of thedew,--the chill. I am not pleased. I tell you, Lillie, I am notpleased."

  "Now, papa, you are right hard. I do say you are right cruel. How couldI help myself? I couldn't come home alone. I couldn't order the pic-nicto break up and come home when I pleased. How could I? Just think of it,papa."

  The Doctor was walking up and down the room with his hands behind hisback and his head bent forward. He had hardly looked at his daughter: henever looked at her when he scolded her. He gave her a side-glance now,and seeing her eyes full of tears, he was unable to answer her eithergood or evil. The earnestness of his affection for her made him verysensitive and sore and cowardly, in case of a misunderstanding. She waslooking at him all the time that she talked, her face full of hertroubled eagerness to exculpate herself; and now, though he said not aword, she knew him well enough to see that he had relented from hisanger. Encouraged by this discovery she regained in a moment or two herself-possession. She guessed the real cause, or at least the strongestcause of his vexation, and proceeded to dissipate it.

  "Papa, I think there must be something important going on in the army.Lieutenant-Colonel Carter has received a telegraph, and is going on bythe next train."

  He halted in his walk and faced her with a childlike smile of pleasure.

  "Has he, indeed!" he said as gaily as if he had heard of some piece ofpersonal good fortune. Then, more gravely and with a censoriouscountenance, "Quite time he went, I should say. It doesn't look well foran officer to be enjoying himself here in Barataria when his men may befighting in Virginia."

  Miss Ravenel thought of suggesting that the Lieutenant-Colonel had beenon sick leave, but concluded that it would not be well to attempt hisdefence at the present moment.

  "Well Lillie," resumed the Doctor, after taking a couple of leisurelyturns up and down the room, "I don't know but I have been unjust inblaming you for coming home so late. I must confess that I don't see howyou could help it. The fault was not yours. It resulted from the verynature of all such expeditions. It is one of the inconveniences ofpic-nics that common sense is never invited or never has time to go. Iwonder that Mrs. Whitewood should permit such irrational procedures."

  The Doctor was somewhat apt to exaggerate, whether in praise or blame,when he became interested in a subject.

  "Well, well, I am chiefly in fault myself," he concluded. "It must bethe last time. My dear, you had better take off your things and getready for tea."

  While Lillie was engaged on her toilette the Doctor cogitated, and cameto the conclusion that he must say something against this Carter, butthat he had better say it indirectly. So, as they sauntered down stairsto the tea-table he broke out upon the bibulous gentry of Louisiana.

  "To-day's Herald will amuse you," he said. "It contains the proceedingsof a meeting of the planters of St.
Dominic Parish. They are opposed tofreedom. They object to the nineteenth century. They mean to smash theUnited States of America. And for all this they pledge their lives,their fortunes, and their sacred honor. It surpasses all the jokes inJoe Miller. To think of those whiskey-soaked, negro-whipping,man-slaughtering ruffians, with a bottle of Louisiana rum in one handand a cat-o'-nine-tails in the other, a revolver in one pocket and abowie-knife in the other, drunken, swearing, gambling, depraved asSatan, with their black wives and mulatto children--to think of suchruffians prating about their sacred honor! Why, they absolutely don'tunderstand the meaning of the words. They have heard of respectablecommunities possessing such a quality as honor, and they feel bound totalk as if they possessed it. The pirates of the Isle of Pines might aswell pledge their honesty and humanity. Their lives, their fortunes, andtheir sacred honor! Their lives are not worth the powder that will blowthem out of existence. Their fortunes will be worth less in a couple ofyears. And as for their sacred honor, it is a pure figment of ignorantimaginations made delirious by bad whiskey. That drinking is a ruinousvice. When I see a man soaking himself with sherry at a friend's table,after having previously soaked with whiskey in some groggery, I think Isee the devil behind his chair putting the infernal mark on the back ofhis coat. And it is such a common vice in Louisiana. There is hardly ayoung man free from it. In the country districts, when a young fellow ispaying attention to a young lady, the parents don't ask whether he is inthe habit of getting drunk; they take that for granted, and only concernthemselves to know whether he gets cross-drunk or amiable-drunk. If theformer, they have some hesitation; if the latter, they consent to thematch thankfully."

  Miss Ravenel understood perfectly that her father was cutting atLieutenant-Colonel Carter over the shoulders of the convivial gentlemenof Louisiana. She thought him unjust to both parties, but concluded thatshe would not argue the question; being conscious that the subject wasrather too delicately near to her feelings to be discussed withoutdanger of disclosures.

  "Well, they are rushing to their doom," resumed the Doctor, turningaside to general reflections, either because such was the tendency ofhis mind, or because he thought that he had demolished theLieutenant-Colonel. "They couldn't wait for whiskey to finish them, asit does other barbarous races. They must call on the political mountainsto crush them. Their slaveholding Sodom will perish for the lack of fivejust men, or a single just idea. It must be razed and got out of theway, like any other obstacle to the progress of humanity. It must makeroom for something more consonant with the railroad, electric-telegraph,printing-press, inductive philosophy, and practical Christianity."