Donald McElroy, Scotch Irishman by Willie Walker Caldwell
CHAPTER XXVIII
Seldom have my forebodings gone unverified--possibly because I am notsuperstitious, and they are usually founded upon some more or lessclearly realized cause. I had not been home a quarter of an hour till Ifelt that something had gone wrong; that the usual sweet and serene homeatmosphere was impregnated with an illusive element of discord. Everyone capable of the finer shades of feeling has experienced, doubtless,the subtle influence of an atmosphere, surcharged with carefully hiddenemotion that yet jars each soul, and sets all nerves a-quiver. Notalways, however, is there present a serene, commanding spirit, which candissipate the threatened storm, by tact and the sunshine of genialgraciousness.
So did Ellen, being for a while my mother's guest, during Aunt Martha'sabsence at a famed medicinal spring. My father, strangely stern andsilent, after his first hearty greeting for me, and courteous one forhis latest guest, would warm into fitful geniality under Ellen'sblandishments, mother's face lose its look of anxious distress, Jeandimple and brighten in the old way, and Buford relax somewhat his air ofdignity and reserve.
Yet the cause of the evident gloom hanging over the household was, onthe second day after my return, still a mystery; the entire familyseemed to have entered into a tacit agreement to withhold it from me,and each one carefully avoided a private interview. For a while itdefied guessing even; I could only surmise that Nelly's presence hadcomplicated the situation, and was to some extent the reason for myexclusion from the family confidence. From the first hour I had seenthat Ellen was surprised by Nelly's manner to me, though I alone guessedher unconscious resentment, noting the expression of it through an addedflush to her cheeks, a slightly more erect attitude of her head, and afirmer tone in her voice. Mother, too, had presently observed Nelly'sapparently unconscious appropriation of me, and watched us bothanxiously; then Buford seemed to note it, looked annoyed, and exchangeda quick glance of mingled despair and tender assurance with Jean. Thatintercepted glance gave me my first hint, and I longed more than ever toget Ellen alone, and to ask the score of questions that hung upon mylips.
Through all, Nelly seemed unconscious of the false note in her welcome,and the gloom hanging over the household. After her first regret atfinding that her brother, though almost as strong as ever, was yet lame,and likely to be always slightly so, she seemed to be entirely contentwith her new surroundings, and grew blithe as a child, putting forth allher charms to win over her new friends. I, meanwhile, was driven todespair by Ellen's manner--by disappointment, longing, and hopecontinually deferred. Once more she was the unapproachable Ellen ofKaskaskia--sweetly dignified, graciously charming, cousinly kind--yetthe distance of the poles between us! And, continually, she foundexcuses to leave me alone with Nelly, constituting me her host andentertainer, while she kept herself occupied with helping mother or withentertaining Buford.
From Thomas, home for his vacation, the explanation came at last.
"Tom," I asked abruptly, "what is the matter? I have not had a moment'ssatisfaction since I came home. Father is stern, mother unhappy, Jeanfeverish, and Buford sullen. As for Ellen she avoids me as if I were adangerous lunatic."
Tom gazed at me, astonished at my petulance, and answered with provokingcalmness: "The trouble or at least their knowledge of it, is so recentthat they have had no time as yet to adjust themselves to it, and theydo not know how you may take it--especially since they are in doubt asto your relations with Miss Buford."
"What trouble? Speak out, lad! I'm sick of mystery."
"Jean's avowed love for Captain Buford. Neither your mother nor yourfather suspected their interest in each other until four days ago,though Ellen tells me she had guessed it for weeks."
"Well, it is no such grave trouble that the family need sink intodespondency because of it. Buford is a Tory, and likely to be always alittle lame; nevertheless he's a gentleman by birth and breeding, andlacks none of the qualities necessary to make him a good husband."
"All that may be true, and yet it is not surprising that Uncle Williamshould object to a penniless, lame Tory, and ex-British officer, ashusband for his only daughter. Your bringing his sister here just atthis time complicates the situation. Buford had decided to go toStaunton, if such move were consistent with the terms of his parole, butMiss Buford's arrival brings him the double embarrassment of providingmeans for two to live upon, and of seeming to decline for his sisteryour proffered hospitality--which for himself he has so long accepted."
"I have General Morgan's permission to release Buford as soon as he iswell," I said, "so his parole need not interfere with his plans. And hecan sell Miss Nelly's carriage and horses if he is too proud to borrow.Perhaps General Morgan can induce Congress to restore Buford'sconfiscated property, so that his poverty need not influence father, ifhe can bring himself to forgive his Tory principles. Moreover, I havealways intended to divide my western bounty lands with Jean."
"If you are to marry Miss Buford any objection to her brother as husbandfor your sister would be untenable."
"I have no intention, and no wish to marry Miss Buford," I respondedimpatiently, "nor she to marry me."
"She seems greatly interested in you, Donald, and lays open claim toyou. Well, I despair of ever knowing any woman, and am thankful I haveresolved to live a bachelor. Ellen never treated you as familiarly asMiss Buford, after all your months of comradeship."
"Ellen is as rare among women, as the nightingale among song birds," Ianswered, "but Nelly is lovable and womanly, and I owe her an unpaiddebt. Look here, Tom; if you'll do me one great kindness I will considermyself under obligations to you for life. Pay Miss Nelly devotedattention for the next two days; take her for a long ride to-morrow; doanything to give me a chance for some private talk with Ellen before Igo back to the army. Think of it, lad," and I laid my hand entreatinglyon his shoulder. "My furlough is almost gone, and I haven't had a momentalone with Ellen! I might be killed in the next battle and never see heragain! She might take a sudden resolve and immure herself before I canreturn! I _must_ see her before I go!"
"I'll do all I can to help you, Don," said Thomas, with a long drawnsigh, "but you couldn't well ask a harder thing of me. Miss Buford,though pretty and gay enough, is not my style of woman; and moreover,the least I have to say to young women, now-a-days, the better pleased Iam!"
I might have smiled to see Thomas, not yet twenty-six, affect to bealready so blase, and a woman scorner. But I was too feverishlyengrossed with my own passionate longings, and half angry defiance ofcircumstances, to be greatly interested in the feelings ofothers--except Ellen's, upon which I knew now depended all my hopes of alife rounded and completed as God meant a man's to be.
My next confidential talk was with Jean. She poured out all her innocentheart to me, surprising me by the depth of her feelings. My sympathyseemed to comfort her and she promised, without urgence, to heed mycounsel for patience and to impose like conduct upon Buford. They mustwait, I told her, until the war was over and I came home for good. Then,with time and intercession, there was good hope that she would win thefull consent of our parents, which meant a far better prospect ofhappiness than a union unblessed by their approval. I promised her, too,a last interview with Buford, before he should leave for Staunton, andshe assured me that she would make him no promises I would not be likelyto sanction.
A second plan had come to me, which offered, I thought, a better chanceto both Buford and myself than my first one of sending Thomas and Nellyfor a long ride together, which was to make up a horseback party to thebig cave, that Tom and I had often explored in our boyhood and which hadnow become a resort for pleasure parties. It was but natural that Ishould wish to show our guest the greatest curiosity in theneighborhood, and also that I should desire one day's pleasuring beforeI should return to the stern duties of war. I boldly proclaimed my plan,therefore, at breakfast table, the next morning; it was warmly secondedby Thomas and Nelly, and met with no spoken opposition from any one.
A negro boy was sent ahead, with cart laden wi
"Ellen," I said, in firm tones, "I _must_ have an hour alone with you.Let them ride on; we'll follow when they are out of hearing. Can you nottrust yourself with me for one brief ride after all our journeyingtogether?"
Over throat, cheek and brow came a sudden glow of crimson like thatwhich was flaming in the western sky; the thick fringed lids droppedover her eyes, and the harp-like vibration I loved was in her voice, asshe said:
"You cannot doubt I trust you, Cousin Donald; you saved me once fromclaw of wild beast, once from my own folly, and once again from a fateworse than common death, from the Indian's torture stake. I would trustmy safety to you under all circumstances."
"But not your happiness, Ellen?"
"My happiness would be but too safe in your hands, dear cousin. One hasnot always the right to be happy."
"And it is sometimes a sacred duty to make one who loves you with everyfiber of his being, one who would die to save you sorrow, miserable forlife. Oh, Ellen, I know that you are true and holy beyond myunderstanding, yet I can see no reason in this fixed purpose of yours todivert your life from its evident destiny."
"My weakness assents to all you say, Cousin Donald," and Ellen liftedeyes to mine that were tenderly aglow with feeling, "but you have missedthe true reason on which my final decision must depend. If my vow to Godmay be honestly broken, if I may be absolved from it, it would be onlybecause that were true beyond question which you have so earnestlyclaimed--that your single hope of happiness, Donald, depends uponme--that by fulfilling my vow, I should leave you to bear the man'sstruggle, without hope of the man's God-appointed cheer and solace. Butrecently I have been convinced that no one woman circumscribes a man'spossibility of happiness, that God wisely has ordained a quick healingfor heart wounds. Therefore, cousin, since happiness, thank God, wouldstill be possible to you without me, I am bound by my vow. You will findsome one to devote her life to you who is not of alien faith, who hasnot broken sacred vows that she might come to you; and I, meantime, willbe adding to your happiness by daily intercessions for you before God'sholy altar."
Why it was I do not know, but a sudden anger flamed in my heart. Was Ialways to be answered in this absurd, illogical way, with platitudes ofholy vows, and sacred consecration? Were all my protestations ofdevotion to be brushed aside, as not worth believing, and my life'shappiness to weigh as nothing against Ellen's will, and pride, hersudden whims and conclusions? Making no attempt to conceal my anger andmy bitterness, I answered her:
"Let us have no more of this cant of sacred vows, Ellen. Think you Godhas cared to register a disobedient girl's sick fancy that, byimmolating herself, she could render Him special homage, or add oneounce to His power and His influence? You say I do not need your life,that I can find happiness without you--thus casting back my words as toolight for belief, and my heart, my very soul, as of small value besideyour vaunted vow. I would I could believe, Ellen, that happiness werepossible for me without you. But it is too late for that, and if inperversity of stubborn superstition you condemn me to a lonely, lovelesslife, I can but endure it with such fortitude as I may learn to command.It would seem to me but poor reflection for quiet convent hours--that anhonest man's life had been wrecked--that a noble family name hadperished from the earth--all that one more nun might count her beads andoffer up prayers in needless repetition to an all powerful God who hasno need of such mummery to help him rule with eternal wisdom a universeof worlds."
"So far apart are we in mind and heart, Donald McElroy," answered Ellen,with flashing eyes, having reined her horse to a standstill that shemight fully face me, "if these be your true sentiments, that never couldwe hope to be one in spirit; never would I dare to unite my life withyours," and, putting whip to her horse, she joined Thomas and Nelly, nordeigned to show consciousness of my presence again that evening.
The next day she kept her room, "with headache," said Jean. The morningafter she came down only at the last moment to say good-by to our guestsand me. Vainly I sought the chance to whisper my regret and repentancein her ear; she was careful to give me opportunity only for a formalfarewell in the presence of them all.
To Buford and his sister I said good-by, after I had settled themcomfortably in Staunton, almost with coolness. They, it seemed to me,had repaid my generous wish to more than return their kindness by acrass indifference to my feelings.
Then I faced to the scene of war, once more, with fierce satisfaction.For the first time I felt a thirst for danger. Since I had thrown awayall chance for happiness, I would win a glorious death in the lastglorious and successful struggle of my country for liberty!