A Daughter of the Union by Lucy Foster Madison
CHAPTER XVII
AGAIN DECEIVED
The party of Secessionists of which Mr. and Madame Vance were membersembarked on board the boat, Ceres, which steamed up the narrow windingriver, Tangipaho, to Manchac bridge, the terminus of a railroad thatled to Ponchatoula ten miles distant from which was the headquarters ofGeneral Thompson; the main body of Confederates being nine miles furtheron.
The shores of the river presented to view nothing but desolation. Many ofthe houses were deserted and every garden and field lay waste. Gaunt,yellow, silent figures stood looking at the disembarking refugees, imagesof despair. The people there had been small farmers, market gardeners,fishermen and shell diggers; all of them absolutely dependent upon themarket of New Orleans from which they had been cut off for more than fivemonths. Roving bands of Guerillas and the march of the regiments hadrobbed them of the last pig, the last chicken, the last egg and evenof their half grown vegetables. In all that region there was nothingto eat but corn on the cob, and of that only a few pecks in each house.
A locomotive with a train of platform cars stood on the track and theparty soon were gliding swiftly to the village.
Jeanne's eyes brightened when she saw that the place contained a post andtelegraph office.
"Uncle Ben," she said timidly for none of the party were in good spirits.The men were sullen and the women bewailing their fate at being obliged toleave their belongings behind them.
"Uncle Ben," said Jeanne again as her uncle did not answer her.
"Well, what is it?" he asked ungraciously.
"Could I not telegraph to my father that we are coming? There is atelegraph office here."
"What made you think that we were going to Dick's?" he asked after a broadstare of amazement.
"Cherie told me," answered Jeanne her heart sinking at his expression."Aren't we going, dear uncle?"
"Well, I rather guess not," said Mr. Vance emphatically. "I think we'vehad enough of the Yankees without going where they are. Enough to lastus a lifetime."
"Why did you tell me such a thing?" burst from Jeanne turning upon heraunt with indignation.
"Because, my dear little Yankee, I wanted the pleasure of your company,of course," replied Madame mockingly.
"That is not true," said Jeanne boldly. "You do not like me, AuntClarisse," dropping the Cherie which she seldom afterward used.
"No? you want the truth then?" said the woman suddenly. "Because I hateyou for being a Yankee."
"But you did like me at first and I was a Yankee then," and the girlshrank from the light in the other's eyes.
"Yes; for a time, but I soon tired of you. You were too independent, andhad views that were tiresome to me. I might have loved you had you yieldedyour will to mine. But you would not. You, a mere girl, set your judgmentup against mine, although I granted your lightest wish. Then you toldthat Yankee General that your uncle had given you all the property and heseized it in your name. Think you that I would let you stay to enjoyour property when we were driven from the city? Oh, I saw through yourartfulness! But you shall not have the property if that Beast does!"
"I did not want your property," replied Jeanne, her face becoming verypale as she heard her aunt's words. "Why should I care for it? I wantonly to go to my home. Please let me go back, Aunt Clarisse. I will begGeneral Butler to let you have your property again and to send me home.Truly, I do not want anything of yours. Let me go back."
"Never," cried the other angrily. "Who would think that a puny faced thinglike you could be so sly!"
Jeanne made no reply but sank into bitter thought. The rebel general,Jefferson Thompson, received the refugees courteously and promised tohelp them to reach friends and relatives in other parts of the South.Meantime he gave them such refreshment as was at his disposal, resigningto the Vances his own headquarters. For a few days they stayed here, beingjoined by others from the city. Then they broke up into small partiesand scattered, each bent upon reaching his own objective point.
To her consternation Jeanne was told that her uncle and aunt were boundfor Alabama, the very midst of Secession. The girl's heart died within herwhen she found that this was their destination. With no friends near howcould she, a mere girl, hope to reach her own people surrounded as shewould be on all sides by rebels? She was almost in despair.
At Waynesboro, they left the train and Mr. Vance, securing a carriage withtwo good horses, announced his intention of driving through the rest ofthe way. Madame Vance received the intelligence with demonstrations of joybut Jeanne said nothing. In spite of her depression, however, she couldnot but feel a sense of pleasure as they bowled along over the public road.
It was a pleasing ride, ennobling to the soul as a series of beautifulscenes were unrolled to the view. Far in the azure blue the great banksof white clouds seemed to lie at anchor, so slow of sail were they. Thegloom of the dense forest gently waving its boughs to the breeze greetedthe eye. Ever and anon the dulcet murmur of gurgling streams broke gentlyon the ear. Quiet cottages surrounded by flowers and fruits, the abodesof peace and content, were passed; grass green marshes with here andthere a tall pine or sombre cypress standing as sentinels of the richmead; song birds caroling their sweet lays as they flitted from boughto bough, or lightly soared in space; fields of deadened trees, alldraped with the long gray Spanish moss, were silhouetted against thesky; groups of great oaks, with clusters of the mistletoe pendent. Onpast plantations, busy with slaves whose merry songs floated far onthe gentle zephyrs.
But as the day wore away proofs that grim-visaged war was raging in theland came more and more into evidence.
Want and desolation mark the track of soldiers. Armies must be fed andhungry men respect neither friend nor foe when it comes to satisfyingtheir wants, and ravaged plantations and desolated homes marred the beautyof the peaceful landscape.
It was a long hard day's ride and Jeanne was glad when at last just asthe brief twilight was deepening, Mr. Vance descried a large house in thedistance and directed Jeff to drive them there so that they might haveshelter for the night.
"Dar's nobody ter hum," was Jeff's announcement after knocking at all thedoors.
"Go to the quarters and find out where the people are," commanded hismaster, but the darky soon returned with the information that the cabinswere empty also.
"Strange," said the gentleman. "What do you think we would better do,Clarisse?"
"Can you not open the doors in some way?" asked the lady pettishly. "Iam tired, mon ami, and if no one is there we might just as well takepossession. Private property doesn't seem to be respected these times."
Without another word Mr. Vance gave the order, and the two men soonsucceeded in forcing an entrance. The fast falling darkness gave weirdglimpses of the interior of the residence.
"Remain without," said her husband hastily, "until I get a light."
Presently the cheering flash of a fire dispelled the gloom of the dwellingand after being assured that everything was all right within, the ladyentered followed by Jeanne and the blacks. The October air was chilly andthe warmth of the pine knots was very acceptable.
Jeanne crept into a corner where she could enjoy the blaze and fell intoa reverie. The poor child was very miserable. Her aunt and uncle scarcelynoticed her or when they did speak to her it was in such great contrastto their former affectionate address that her heart was heavy indeed.
The brightness of the pine knots in the vast fireplace lighted up theroom vividly. The apartment seemed to have been the living-room of thefamily, and its disarrangement showed that the inmates had left itssheltering walls hurriedly. At one end of the room were great spinningwheels with the thread still hanging.
Mr. Vance had drawn up an easy chair to one side of the odorous fire andleaned silently back in its depths apparently lost in thought. His wifewas seated near him, the firelight glancing almost caressing on the richsheen of her hair and the vivid crimson of her cheek and lip. Snowball'sdusky figure flitted back and forth supplying the fire with the ric
Jeanne fell to studying the fair face of the woman before her wonderingover and over how one so beautiful could be so cruel.
"Well! Have you finished staring at me?" demanded Madame suddenly. "Havedone with your impudence, girl. You make me nervous."
"I beg your pardon," murmured Jeanne shrinking from the light in heraunt's eyes. "I do not wish to make you nervous. I was just thinking----"
"I don't care what you are doing," said the other sharply. "I do not wishto be stared at." She sat back in her chair, and relapsed into silence.Jeanne withdrew her gaze, but it wandered unconsciously to her uncle'sface. He moved uneasily, but made no comment.
Presently Madame gave utterance to a harsh laugh, and looked at the girlstrangely.
"How would you like this for a home?" she asked abruptly.
"What do you mean?" cried Jeanne.
"Just what I say. How would you like to live here?"
"I would not like it," replied the girl decidedly. "I like my own homebest. There is no place like New York."
"Perhaps you may change your mind," and Madame gave vent to a peal ofunpleasant laughter. "I believe that you will have the opportunity."
"What do you mean?" asked Jeanne again, but the lady's only answer wasa shrug of her shoulders.
A vague uneasiness filled Jeanne's mind at her strange demeanor. She keptlooking at the girl with a curious, half triumphant expression, whileever and anon she laughed in that strange way that made the girl's bloodchill with apprehension. She was glad when at last Mr. Vance ordered themall to retire.
"There are plenty of rooms and good beds," he said. "Very likely thepeople left hurriedly else they would have taken them with them, orperhaps they left them because they will soon return. However it maybe, we must get a good night's rest for to-morrow we have a long day'sride before us."
Jeanne chose a room at the end of the upstairs hall and entering it closedthe door securely. Tired as she was from her long ride she could notsleep but lay thinking deeply about her aunt's strange behavior. She hadbecome so accustomed to the lady's vagaries that she knew that some newidea had suggested itself to her and she felt that it related to herself.
At last her eyes grew heavy, and soon she fell into the deep untroubledsleep of youth.