Before the Dawn: A Story of the Fall of Richmond. Altsheler Joseph Alexander

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ boys at the front are hauled around so much by the politicians that they are losing confidence in everybody here in Richmond. Why, when President Davis himself came down and reviewed us with a great crowd of staff officers before Missionary Ridge, the boys all along the line set up the cry: 'Give us somethin' to eat, Mr. Jeff; give us somethin' to eat! We're hungry! We're hungry!' And that may be the reason why we were thrashed so badly by Grant not long after."

      Prescott saw that the rain had almost ceased, and as he suggested that he must hurry on, the others rose to go with him from the house. He left them at the next corner, glad to have made such friends, and quickened his footsteps as he continued alone.

      CHAPTER II

      A MAN'S MOTHER

      It was a modest house to which Prescott turned his steps, built two stories in height, of red brick, with green shutters over the windows, and in front a little brick-floored portico supported on white columns in the Greek style. His heart gave a great beat as he noticed the open shutters and the thin column of smoke rising from the chimney. The servants at least were there! He had been gone three years, and three years of war is a long time to one who is not yet twenty-five. There was no daily mail from the battlefield, and he had feared that the house would be closed.

      He lifted the brass knocker and struck but once. That was sufficient, as before the echo died his mother herself, come before the time set, opened the door. Mrs. Prescott embraced her son, and she was even less demonstrative than himself, though he was generally known to his associates as a reserved man; but he knew the depth of her feelings. One Northern mother out of every ten had a son who never came back, but it was one Southern mother in every three who was left to mourn.

      She only said: "My son, I feared that I should never see you again." Then she noticed the thinness of his clothing and its dampness. "Why, you are cold and wet," she added.

      "I do not feel so now, mother," he replied.

      She smiled, and her smile was that of a young girl. As she drew him toward the fire in a dusky room it seemed to him that some one else went out.

      "I heard your footsteps on the portico," she said.

      "And you knew that it was me, mother," he interrupted, as he reached down and patted her softly on the cheek.

      He could not remember the time when he did not have a protecting feeling in the presence of his mother—he was so tall and large, and she so small. She scarcely reached to the top of his shoulder, and even now, at the age of forty-five, her cheeks had the delicate bloom and freshness of a young girl's.

      "Sit by the fire here," she said, as she pushed him into an armchair that she pulled directly in front of the grate.

      "No, you must not do that," she added, taking the poker from his hand. "Don't you know that it is a delight for me to wait upon you, my son come from the war!"

      Then she prodded the coals until they glowed a deep red and the room was suffused with generous warmth.

      "What is this bundle that you have?" she asked, taking it from him.

      "A new uniform, mother, that I have just bought, and in which I hope to do you credit."

      She flitted about the room attending to his wants, bringing him a hot drink, and she would listen to no account of himself until she was sure that he was comfortable. He followed her with his eyes, noting how little she had changed in the three years that had seemed so long.

      She was a Northern woman, of a Quaker family in Philadelphia, whom his father had married very young and brought to live on a great place in Virginia. Prescott always believed she had never appreciated the fact that she was entering a new social world when she left Philadelphia; and there, on the estate of her husband, a just and generous man, she saw slavery under its most favourable conditions. It must have been on one of their visits to the Richmond house, perhaps at the slave market itself, that she beheld the other side; but this was a subject of which she would never speak to her son Robert. In fact, she was silent about it to all people, and he only knew that she was not wholly like the Southern women about him. When the war came she did not seek to persuade her son to either side, but when he made his choice he was always sure that he caused her pain, though she never said a word.

      "Do you wear such thin clothing as this out there in those cold forests?" she asked, fingering his coat.

      "Mother," he replied with a smile, "this is the style now; the shops recommend it, and you know we've all heard that a man had better be dead than out of the style."

      "And you have become a great soldier?" she said, looking at him fondly.

      He laughed, knowing that in any event he would seem great to her.

      "Not great, mother," he replied; "but I know that I have the confidence of General Lee, on whose staff I serve."

      "A good man and a great one," she said, clasping her hands thoughtfully. "It is a pity–"

      She stopped, and her son asked:

      "What is a pity, mother?"

      She did not answer, but he knew. It was said by many that Lee hesitated long before he went with his State.

      "Now," she said, "you must eat," and she brought him bread and meat and coffee, serving them from a little table that she herself placed by his side.

      "How happens it, mother," he asked, "that this food is still warm? It must have been hours since you had breakfast."

      A deep tint of red as of a blush suffused her cheeks, and she answered in a hesitating voice:

      "Since there was a pause in the war, I knew that sooner or later you would come, and I remember how hungry you used to be as a growing boy."

      "And through all these days you have kept something hot on the fire for me, ready at a moment's notice!"

      She looked at him and there was a faint suspicion of tears in her eyes.

      "Yes, yes, Robert," she replied. "Now don't scold me."

      He had no intention of scolding her, but his thought was: "Has any other man a mother like mine?" Then he corrected himself; he knew that there must be myriads of others.

      He said nothing in reply, merely smiling at her, and permitted her to do as she would. She went about the room with light, easy step, intent on her little services.

      She opened the window shutters and the rich sunlight came streaming in, throwing a golden glow across the brown face of him who had left her a boy and come back a man. She sighed a little as she noticed how great was the change, but she hid the sigh from her son.

      "Mother," he asked presently, "was there not some one else in this room when I came in? The light was faint, but I thought I saw a shadowy figure disappear."

      "Yes," she answered; "that was Helen Harley. She was with me when you came. She may have known your footstep, too, and if not, she guessed it from my face, so she went out at once. She did not wish to be a mere curious onlooker when a mother was greeting her son, come home after three years in the war."

      "She must be a woman now."

      "She is a woman full grown in all respects. Women have grown old fast in the last three years. She is nearly a head taller than I."

      "You have been comfortable here, mother?" he asked.

      "As СКАЧАТЬ