The Essential Winston Churchill Collection. Winston Churchill
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Название: The Essential Winston Churchill Collection
Автор: Winston Churchill
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Контркультура
isbn: 9781456613488
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"It's not a question of sympathy, Captain," answered the Judge, dryly. "Abraham Lincoln himself was born in Kentucky."
They had not heard a step without.
"Gentlemen, mark my words. If Abraham Lincoln is elected, the South leaves this Union."
The Judge started, and looked up. The speaker was Colonel Carvel himself.
"Then, sir," Mr. Whipple cried hotly, "then you will be chastised and brought back. For at last we have chosen a man who is strong enough,--who does not fear your fire-eaters,--whose electors depend on Northern votes alone."
Stephen rose apprehensively, So did Captain Lige The Colonel had taken a step forward, and a fire was quick to kindle in his gray eyes. It was as quick to die. Judge Whipple, deathly pale, staggered and fell into Stephen' arms. But it was the Colonel who laid him on the horsehair sofa.
"Silas!" he said, "Silas!"
Nor could the two who listened sound the depth of the pathos the Colonel put into those two words.
But the Judge had not fainted. And the brusqueness in his weakened voice was even more pathetic-- "Tut, tut," said he. "A little heat, and no breakfast."
The Colonel already had a bottle of the famous Bourbon day his hand, and Captain Lige brought a glass of muddy iced water. Mr. Carvel made an injudicious mixture of the two, and held it to the lips of his friend. He was pushed away.
"Come, Silas," he said.
"No!" cried the Judge, and with this effort he slipped back again. Those who stood there thought that the stamp of death was already on Judge Whipple's face.
But the lips were firmly closed, bidding defiance, as ever, to the world. The Colonel, stroking his goatee, regarded him curiously.
"Silas," he said slowly, "if you won't drink it for me, perhaps you will drink it--for--Abraham--Lincoln."
The two who watched that scene have never forgotten it. Outside, in the great cool store, the rattle of the trucks was heard, and Mr. Hopper giving commands. Within was silence. The straight figure of the Colonel towered above the sofa while he waited. A full minute passed. Once Judge Whipple's bony hand opened and shut, and once his features worked. Then, without warning, he sat up.
"Colonel," said he, "I reckon I wouldn't be much use to Abe if I took that. But if you'll send Ephum after, cup of coffee--"
Mr. Carvel set the glass down. In two strides he had reached the door and given the order. Then he came hack and seated himself on the sofa.
Stephen found his mother at breakfast. He had forgotten the convention He told her what had happened at Mr. Carvel's store, and how the Colonel had tried to persuade Judge Whipple to take the Glencoe house while he was in Europe, and how the Judge had refused. Tears were in the widow's eyes when Stephen finished.
"And he means to stay here in the heat and go through, the campaign?" she asked.
"He says that he will not stir."
"It will kill him, Stephen," Mrs. Brice faltered.
"So the Colonel told him. And he said that he would die willingly--after Abraham Lincoln was elected. He had nothing to live for but to fight for that. He had never understood the world, and had quarrelled with at all his life."
"He said that to Colonel Carvel?"
"Yes."
"Stephen!"
He didn't dare to look at his mother, nor she at him. And when he reached the office, half an hour later, Mr. Whipple was seated in his chair, defiant and unapproachable. Stephen sighed as he settled down to his work. The thought of one who might have accomplished what her father could not was in his head. She was at Monticello.
Some three weeks later Mr. Brinsmade's buggy drew up at Mrs. Brice's door. The Brinsmade family had been for some time in the country. And frequently, when that gentleman was detained in town by business, he would stop at the little home for tea. The secret of the good man's visit came out as he sat with them on the front steps afterward.
"I fear that it will be a hot summer, ma'am," he had said to Mrs. Brice. "You should go to the country."
"The heat agrees with me remarkably, Mr. Brinsmade," said the lady, smiling.
"I have heard that Colonel Carvel wishes to rent his house at Glencoe," Mr. Brinsmade continued, "The figure is not high." He mentioned it. And it was, indeed nominal. "It struck me that a change of air would do you good, Mrs. Brice, and Stephen. Knowing that you shared in our uneasiness concerning Judge Whipple, I thought--"
He stopped, and looked at her. It was a hard task even for that best and roost tactful of gentlemen, Mr. Brinsmade. He too had misjudged this calm woman.
"I understand you, Mr. Brinsmade," she said. She saw, as did Stephen, the kindness behind the offer--Colonel Carvel's kindness and his own. The gentleman's benevolent face brightened:
"And, my dear Madam, do not let the thought of this little house trouble you. It was never my expectation to have it occupied in the summer. If we could induce the Judge to go to Glencoe with you for the summer; I am sure it would be a relief for us all."
He did not press the matter; but begged Stephen to call on him in a day or two, at the bank.
"What do you think, Stephen," asked his mother, when Mr. Brinsmade was gone, Stephen did not reply at once. What, indeed, could he say? The vision of that proud figure of Miss Virginia was before him, and he revolted. What was kindness from Colonel Carvel and Mr. Brinsmade was charity from her. He could not bear the thought of living in a house haunted by her. And yet why should he let his pride and his feelings stand in the way of the health--perhaps of the life--of Judge Whipple?
It was characteristic of his mothers strength of mind not to mention the subject again that evening. Stephen did not sleep in the hot night. But when he rose in the morning he had made up his mind. After breakfast he went straight to the Colonel's store, and fortunately found. Mr. Carvel at his desk, winding up his affairs.
The next morning, when the train for the East pulled out of Illinoistown, Miss Jinny Carvel stood on the plat form tearfully waving good-by to a knot of friends. She was leaving for Europe. Presently she went into the sleeping-car to join the Colonel, who wore a gray liners duster. For a long time she sat gazing at the young, corn waving on the prairie, fingering the bunch of June roses on her lap. Clarence had picked them only a few hours ago, in the dew at Bellegarde. She saw her cousin standing disconsolate under the train sheds, just as she had left him. She pictured him riding out the Bellefontaine Road that afternoon, alone. СКАЧАТЬ