Falstaff,--Miss Puss Russell and Mr. Jack Brinsmade, respectively.
Mr. Tennyson's "Idylls" having appeared but the year before, Anne was dressed as Elaine, a part which suited her very well. It was strange indeed to see her waltzing with Daniel Boone (Mr. Clarence Colfax) in his Indian buckskins. Eugenie went as Marie Antoinette. Tall Maude Catherwood was most imposing as Rebecca; and her brother George made a towering Friar Tuck, Even little fifteen-year-old Spencer Catherwood, the contradiction of the family, was there. He went as the lieutenant Napoleon, walking about with his hands behind his back and his brows thoughtfully contracted.
The Indian summer night was mild. It was at tine very height of the festivities that Dorothy Carvel and Mr. Daniel Boone were making their way together to the porch when the giant gate-keeper of Kenilworth Castle came stalking up the steps out of the darkness, brandishing his club in their faces. Dorothy screamed, and even the doughty Daniel gave back a step.
"Tom Catherwood! How dare you? You frightened me nearly to death."
"I'm sorry, Jinny, indeed I am," said the giant, repentant, and holding her hand in his.
"Where have you been?" demanded Virginia, a little mollified. "What makes you so late?"
"I've been to a Lincoln meeting," said honest Tom; "where I heard a very fine speech from a friend of yours."
Virginia tossed her head.
"You might have been better employed," said she, and added, with dignity, "I have no friends who speak at Black Republican meetings."
"How about Judge Whipple?" said Tom.
She stopped. "Did you mean the Judge?" she asked, over her shoulder.
"No," said Tom, "I meant--"
He got no further. Virginia slipped her arm through Clarence's, and they went off together to the end of the veranda. Poor Tom! He passed on into the gay drawing-room, but the zest had been taken out of his antics for that night.
"Whom did he mean, Jinny?" said Clarence, when they were on the seat under the vines.
"He meant that Yankee, Stephen Brice," answered Virginia, languidly. "I am so tired of hearing about him."
"So am I," said Clarence, with a fervor by no means false. "By George, I think he will make a Black Republican out of Tom, if he keeps on. Puss and Jack have been talking about him all summer, until I am out of patience. I reckon he has brains. But suppose he has addressed fifty Lincoln meetings, as they say, is that any reason for making much of him? I should not have him at Bellegarde. I am surprised that Mr. Russell allows him in his house. I can see why Anne likes him."
"Why?"
"He is on the Brinsmade charity list."
"He is not on their charity list, nor on any other," said Virginia, quickly. "Stephen Brice is the last person who would submit to charity."
"And you are the last person who I supposed would stand up for him," cried her cousin, surprised and nettled.
There was an instant's silence.
"I want to be fair, Max," she said quietly. "Pa offered them our Glencoe House last summer at a low price, and they insisted on paying what Mr. Edwards gave five years ago,--or nothing. You know that I detest a Yankee as much as you do," she continued, indignation growing in her voice. "I did not come out here with you to be insulted."
With her hand on the rail, she made as if to rise. Clarence was perforce mollified.
"Don't go, Jinny," he said beseechingly. "I didn't mean to make you angry--"
"I can't see why you should always be dragging in this Mr. Brice," she said, almost tearfully. (It will not do to pause now and inquire into Virginia's logic.) "I came out to hear what you had to tell me."
"Jinny, I have been made second lieutenant of Company A."
"Oh, Max, I am so glad! I am so proud of you!"
"I suppose that you have heard the result of the October elections, Jinny."
"Pa said something about them to-night," she answered; "why?"
"It looks now as if there were a chance of the Republicans winning," he answered. But it was elation that caught his voice, not gloom.
"You mean that this white trash Lincoln may be President?" she exclaimed, seizing his arm.
"Never!" he cried. "The South will not submit to that until every man who can bear arms is shot down." He paused. The strains of a waltz mingled with talk and laughter floated out of the open window. His voice dropped to a low intensity. "We are getting ready in Company A," he said; "the traitors will be dropped. We are getting ready to fight for Missouri and for the South."
The girl felt his excitement, his exaltation.
"And if you were not, Max, I should disown you," she whispered.
He leaned forward until his face was close to hers.
"And now?" he said.
"I am ready to work, to starve, to go to prison, to help--"
He sank back heavily into the corner.
"Is that all, Jinny?"
"All?" she repeated. "Oh, if a woman could only do more!"
"And is there nothing--for me?"
Virginia straightened.
"Are you doing this for a reward?" she demanded.
"No," he answered passionately. "You know that I am not. Do you remember when you told me that I was good for nothing, that I lacked purpose?"
"Yes, Max."
"I have thought it over since," he went on rapidly; "you were right. I cannot work--it is not in me. But I have always felt that I could make a name for myself--for you--in the army. I am sure that I could command a regiment. And now the time is coming."
She did not answer him, but absently twisted the fringe of his buckskins in her fingers.
"Ever since I have known what love is I have loved you, Jinny. It was so when we climbed the cherry trees at Bellegarde. And you loved me then--I know you did. You loved me when I went East to school at the Military Institute. But it has not been the same of late," he faltered. "Something has happened. I felt it first on that day you rode out to Bellegarde when you said that my life was of no use. Jinny, I don't ask much. I am content to prove myself. War is coming, and we shall have to free ourselves from Yankee insolence. It is what we have both wished for. When I am a general, will you marry me?"
For a wavering instant she might have thrown herself into his outstretched arms. Why not, and have done with sickening doubts? Perhaps her hesitation hung on the very boyishness of his proposal. Perhaps the revelation that she did not then fathom was that he had not developed since those childish days. But even while she held back, came the beat of hoofs on the gravel below them, and one of the Bellegarde servants rode into the light pouring through the open door. He called for his master.
Clarence muttered his dismay as he followed his cousin to the steps.
"What is it?" asked Virginia, alarmed.
"Nothing; I forgot to sign the deed to the Elleardsville property, and