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 is because he loves you, Pa," answered the girl, gently, "it is because he loves us."
He said nothing to that. Virginia got up, and went softly around the table. She leaned over his shoulder. "Pa!"
"Yes," he said, his voice lifeless.
But her courage was not to be lightly shaken. "Pa, will you forbid him to come here--now?"
A long while she waited for his answer, while the big clock ticked out the slow seconds in the hall, and her heart beat wildly.
"No," said the Colonel. "As long as I have a roof, Lige may come under it."
He rose abruptly and seized his hat. She did not ask him where he was going, but ordered Jackson to keep the supper warm, and went into the drawing-room. The lights were out, then, but the great piano that was her mother's lay open. Her fingers fell upon the keys. That wondrous hymn which Judge Whipple loved, which for years has been the comfort of those in distress, floated softly with the night air out of the open window. It was "Lead, Kindly Light." Colonel Carvel heard it, and paused.
Shall we follow him?
He did not stop again until he reached the narrow street at the top of the levee bank, where the quaint stone houses of the old French residents were being loaded with wares. He took a few steps back-up the hill. Then he wheeled about, walked swiftly down the levee, and on to the landing-stage beside which the big 'Juanita' loomed in the night. On her bows was set, fantastically, a yellow street-car.
The Colonel stopped mechanically. Its unexpected appearance there had served to break the current of his meditations. He stood staring at it, while the roustabouts passed and repassed, noisily carrying great logs of wood on shoulders padded by their woollen caps.
"That'll be the first street-car used in the city of New Orleans, if it ever gets there, Colonel."
The Colonel jumped. Captain Lige was standing beside him.
"Lige, is that you? We waited supper for you."
"Reckon I'll have to stay here and boss the cargo all night. Want to get in as many trips as I can before--navigation closes," the Captain concluded significantly.
Colonel Carvel shook his head. "You were never too busy to come for supper, Lige. I reckon the cargo isn't all."
Captain Lige shot at him a swift look. He gulped.
"Come over here on the levee," said the Colonel, sternly. They walked out together, and for some distance in silence.
"Lige," said the elder gentleman, striking his stick on the stones, "if there ever was a straight goer, that's you. You've always dealt squarely with me, and now I'm going to ask you a plain question. Are you North or South?"
"I'm North, I reckon," answered the Captain, bluntly. The Colonel bowed his head. It was a long time before he spoke again. The Captain waited like a man who expects and deserve, the severest verdict. But there was no anger in Mr. Carvel's voice--only reproach.
"And you wouldn't tell me, Lige? You kept it from me."
"My God, Colonel," exclaimed the other, passionately, "how could I? I owe what I have to your charity. But for you and--and Jinny I should have gone to the devil. If you and she are taken away, what have I left in life? I was a coward, sir, not to tell you. You must have guessed it. And yet,--God help me,--I can't stand by and see the nation go to pieces. Your nation as well as mine, Colonel. Your fathers fought that we Americans might inherit the earth--" He stopped abruptly. Then he continued haltingly, "Colonel, I know you're a man of strong feelings and convictions. All I ask is that you and Jinny will think of me as a friend--"
He choked, and turned away, not heeding the direction of his feet. The Colonel, his stick raised, stood looking after him. He was folded in the near darkness before he called his name.
"Lige!"
"Yes, Colonel."
He came back, wondering, across the rough stones until he stood beside the tall figure. Below them, the lights glided along the dark water.
"Lige, didn't I raise you? Haven't I taught you that my house was your home? Come back, Lige. But--but never speak to me again of this night! Jinny is waiting for us."
Not a word passed between them as they went up the quiet street. At the sound of their feet in the entry the door was flung open, and Virginia, with her hands out stretched, stood under the hall light.
"Oh, Pa, I knew you would bring him back," she said.
CHAPTER XXIII. OF CLARENCE
Captain Clarence Colfax, late of the State Dragoons, awoke on Sunday morning the chief of the many topics of the conversation of a big city. His conduct drew forth enthusiastic praise from the gentlemen and ladies who had thronged Beauregard and Davis avenues, and honest admiration from the party which had broken up the camp. The boy had behaved well. There were many doting parents, like Mr. Catherwood, whose boys had accepted the parole, whose praise was a trifle lukewarm, to be sure. But popular opinion, when once aroused, will draw a grunt from the most grudging.
We are not permitted, alas, to go behind these stern walls and discover how Captain Colfax passed that eventful Sunday of the Exodus. We know that, in his loneliness, he hoped for a visit from his cousin, and took to pacing his room in the afternoon, when a smarting sense of injustice crept upon him. Clarence was young. And how was he to guess, as he looked out in astonishment upon the frightened flock of white boats swimming southward, that his mother and his sweetheart were there?
On Monday, while the Colonel and many prominent citizens were busying themselves about procuring the legal writ which was at once to release Mr. Colfax, and so cleanse the whole body of Camp Jackson's defenders from any, veiled intentions toward the Government, many well known carriages drew up before the Carvel House in Locust Street to congratulate the widow and the Colonel upon the possession of such a son and nephew. There were some who slyly congratulated Virginia, whose martyrdom it was to sit up with people all the day long. For Mrs. Colfax kept her room, and admitted only a few of her bosom friends to cry with her. When the last of the callers was gone, Virginia was admitted to her aunt's presence.
"Aunt Lillian, to-morrow morning Pa and I are going to the Arsenal with a basket for Max. Pa seems to think there is a chance that he may come back with us. You will go, of course."
The lady smiled wearily at the proposal, and raised her hands in protest, the lace on the sleeves of her dressing gown falling away from her white arms.
"Go, my dear?" she exclaimed, "when I can't walk to my bureau after that terrible Sunday. You are crazy, Jinny. No," she added, with conviction, "I never again expect to see him alive. Comyn says they may release him, does he? Is he turning Yankee, too?"