Chapter 10

SKIRMISHING

That first dinner at home! how strange and sweet it was. So sweet, that I could scarcely hear the note of the little warning bell down in the bottom of my heart. But mamma had struck it up stairs, and its vibrations would not quite be still. Yet there was a wonderful charm in my own home circle. The circle was made larger in the evening, by the coming in of two of Ransom's friends, who were also, I saw, friends of my father and mother. They were two Southern gentlemen, as I immediately knew them to be; MM. de Saussure and Marshall, Ransom's worthy compeers in the line of personal appearance and manner. De Saussure especially; but I liked Marshall best. This I found out afterward. The conversation that evening naturally went back to America which I had just come from, and to the time of my leaving it, and to the news then new there and but lately arrived here. I had to hear the whole Bull Run affair talked over from beginning to end and back again. It was not so pleasant a subject to me as to the rest of the company; which I suppose made the talk seem long.

"And you were there?" said Mr. de Saussure, suddenly appealing to me.

"Not at Manasses," I said.

"No, but close by; held in durance in the capital, with liberators so near. It seems to me very stupid of Beauregard not to have gone in and set you free."

"Free?" said I, smiling. "I was free."

"There will be no freedom in the country, properly speaking, until that Northern usurper is tossed out of the place he occupies."

"That will be soon," said my mother.

"In what sense is Mr. Lincoln a usurper?" I ventured to ask. "He was duly elected."

"Is it possible Daisy has turned politician?" exclaimed my brother.

"He is not a usurper," said Mr. Marshall.

"He is, if being out of his place can make him so," said De Saussure; "and the assumption of rights that nobody has given him. By what title does he dare shut up Southern ports and send his cut-throats upon Southern soil?"

"Well, they have met their punishment," my father remarked. And it hurt me sorely to hear him say it with evident pleasure.

"The work is not done yet," said Ransom. "But at Bull Run rates - 'sixty pieces of splendid cannon' taken, as Mr. Davis says, and how many killed and prisoners? - the mud-sills will not be able to keep it up very long. Absurd! to think that those Northern shopkeepers could make head against a few dozen Southern swords."

"There were only a few dozen swords at Manasses," said De Saussure. "Eighteen thousand, Mr. Davis puts the number in his Richmond speech; and the Northern army had sixty thousand in the field."

"A Richmond paper says forty thousand instead of eighteen," Mr. Marshall remarked.

"Mr. Russell, of the London _Times_, estimated Beauregard's force at sixty thousand," I said.

"_He_ don't know!" said De Saussure.

"And Mr. Davis does not know," I added; "for the whole loss of cannon on the Northern side that day amounted to but seventeen. Mr. Davis may as well be wrong in one set of facts as in another. He said also that provisions enough were taken to feed an army of fifty thousand men for twelve months."

"Well, why not?" said Ransom, frowning.

"These gentlemen can tell you why not."

"Pretty heavy figures," said Mr. Marshall.

"Why are they not true, Miss Randolph?" Mr. de Saussure asked, bending as before a most deferential look upon me.

"And look here, - in what interest are you, Daisy?" my brother continued.

"Nothing is gained by blinking the truth anywhere, Ransom."

"No, that is true," said my father.

"Daisy has been under the disadvantage of hearing only one side lately," my mother remarked very coolly.

"But about the provisions, Miss Randolph?" Mr. De Saussure insisted, returning to the point with a willingness, I thought, to have me speak.

"Mamma says, I have heard only one side," I answered. "But on that side I have heard it remarked, that twelve thousand wagons would have been required to carry those provisions to the battlefield. I do not know if the calculation was correct."

Mr. De Saussure's face clouded for an instant. My father seemed to be pondering. Ransom's frowns grew more deep.

"What side are you on, Daisy?" he repeated.

"She is on her own side, of course," my mother said.

"I hope there is no doubt of that, Mrs. Randolph," said Mr. Marshall. "Such an enemy would be very formidable! I should begin to question on which side I was myself."

They went off into a long discussion about the probable movements of the belligerent parties in America; what might be expected from different generals; how long the conflict was likely to last, and how its certain issue, the discomfiture of the North and the independence of the South, would be attained. Mingled with this discussion were laudations of Jefferson Davis, scornful reviling of President Lincoln, and sneers at the North generally; at their men, their officers, their money, their way of making it and their way of spending it. Triumphant anticipations, of shame and defeat to them and the superb exaltation of the South, were scattered, like a salt and pepper seasoning, through all the conversation. I listened, with my nerves tingling sometimes, with my heart throbbing at other times; sadly inclined to believe they might be right in a part of their calculations; very sadly sure they were wrong in everything else. I had to keep a constant guard upon my face; happily my words were not called for. My eyes now and then met papa's, with a look that gave and received another sort of communication. When the evening was over, and papa was folding me in his arms to bid me good-night, he whispered, -

"You and I cannot be on two sides of anything, Daisy?"

"Papa - you know on what side of most things I am -" I replied to this difficult question.

"Do I? No, I do not know that I do. What side is it, Daisy?"

"On the Lord's side, papa, when I can find out what that is."

"Make me sure that you have found it, and I will be on that side too," he said, as he kissed me.

The words filled me with a great joy. For they were not spoken in defiance of the supposed condition, but rather, as it seemed to me, in desire and love of it. Had papa come to that? The new joy poured like a flood over all the dry places in my heart, which had got into a very dry state with hearing the conversation of the evening. I went to bed tired and happy.

Nevertheless I awoke to the consciousness that I had a nice piece of navigation before me, and plenty of rough water in all probability. The best thing would be for me to be as silent as possible. Could I be silent? They all wanted to hear what I would say. Every eye had sought mine this past evening.

I was the first in the breakfast-room, and papa was the next. We were alone. He took me tenderly in his arms and held me fast, looking at me and kissing me by turns.

"Are you well now, papa?" I asked him. "Are you quite well again?"

"Well enough," he answered; "not just as I was once."

"Why not, papa?"

"I have never quite got over that unlucky fall. It has left my head a little shaky, Daisy; and my strength - Never mind! you are my strength now, my pet. We should have gone home before this, only for the troubles breaking out there."

I leaned my head upon his breast, and wished the troubles were not! What a division those troubles made, unknown to him, between his heart's happiness and mine - yes, between him and me. Mamma came in and looked at us both.

"It is a very pretty picture," she said. And she kissed me, while papa did not let me out of his arms. "Daisy, you are a beauty."

"She is a great deal better than a beauty," said my father. "But, now I look at you, Daisy - yes, you _are_ a beauty, certainly."

They both laughed heartily at the colour which all this raised in my face.

"Most exquisite, her skin is," said my mother, touching my cheek. "Did you ever see anything superior to it, Mr. Randolph? Rose leaves are not any better than that. Pshaw, Daisy! - you must get accustomed to hear people say it."

"Nobody shall say it to me, mamma, but you."

"No," said my father. "That is my view of it, too."

"Nonsense!" said mamma - "there are a thousand ways of doing the same thing, and you cannot stop them all. Your hair is as fine as possible, too, Daisy, although it has not had me to take care of it."

"But I did just as you told me with it, mamma," I said.

She kissed me again. "Did nobody ever tell you you were beautiful?" she asked archly. "Yes, I know that you did just as I told you. You always did, and always will. But did you not know that you were beautiful?"

"Speak, Daisy," said papa. Said as it was with a smile, it brought childish memories vividly back.

"Mamma," I said, "I have heard something of it - and I suppose it may be true."

They laughed, and mamma remarked that I was human yet. "There is a difference between the child and the woman, you will find, Mr. Randolph."

Papa answered, that it was no very remarkable token of humanity, to have eyes and ears.

"Daisy's eyes were always remarkable," said my mother.

"But, mamma," said I, "in other things there is no difference between the child and the woman. My outside may have altered - my mind is not changed at all; only grown."

"That will do," said mamma.

I was obliged to leave it to time, and hoped to make myself so pleasant that what I could not change in me might be at least tolerated, if it were not approved. It seemed an easy task! I was such a manifest subject of joy, to father and mother, and even Ransom too. A newly discovered land, full of gold, is not more delightfully explored by its finders, than I was watched, scrutinised, commented on, by my family.

That first day, of course, they could not let me out of their sight. It was nothing but talk, all day long. In the evening however our last evening's guests reappeared. The conversation this time did not get upon American politics, so everybody showed to better advantage; I suppose, myself included. We had music; and the gentlemen were greatly delighted with my voice and my singing. Mamma and papa took it very coolly until we were left alone again; then my mother came up and kissed me.

"You have done your duty, Daisy, in improving your voice," she said. "You are a Daisy I am perfectly satisfied with. If you can sing as well in public as you have done to-night in private, papa will be proud of you."

"In public, mamma?" I said.

"Yes. That does not frighten you. Nothing does frighten you."

"No, mamma, but - what do you mean by 'in public'?"

"Not on the stage," said mamma.

"But mamma, - papa," - I said, anxiously, "this is what I want you to understand. I will do anything in the world you wish me to do; only, I am - I must be, - you know, - a servant of Christ."

"I said nothing against that," my mother replied. But my father, clasping me in his arms, whispered, -

"We will be servants together, Daisy."

That word sent me to bed with a whole heartful of thankfulness. I could bear anything now, if his words meant what I hoped they did. And I should have security, too, against any too great trial of my affection and duty to him and to mamma.

An expedition had been arranged for the next day; in which my brother and his friends were to take me upon the lake. Mamma and papa would not go. It was a day, in one sort, of such pleasure as I had never known till then. The beautiful water, the magnificent shores of the lake, the wonderful lights on the mountains, almost took me out of this world; to which they seemed scarcely to belong. I cannot tell what a pang in the midst of this pleasure the thought of Mr. Thorold brought with it. The life I was living now was so very far from his life, and so unlike; my part of the world was now so very distant from his, - there was such an abyss between; - and yet the Swiss hills were so glorious, and I was enjoying them. I began to wonder, as we were sailing towards home in the end of the day, what work I had to do in this new and strange place; why was I here? Perhaps, to learn patience, and have faith grow strong by trial, while all my life hopes waited upon a will that I did not know and must trust. Perhaps, to stand up for Christian truth and simplicity in the face of much opposition. Perhaps, to suffer, and learn to bear suffering.

"You are fatigued, Miss Randolph?" said the soft voice of De Saussure.

"Or beauty of scenery, so much beauty, makes you melancholy," said Mr. Marshall. "It always makes me so, if I let myself think of it."

"Why should it make any one melancholy?" I asked. "I think beauty has the contrary effect."

"A little beauty. But very great and wonderful loveliness - I don't know why, it always moves me so. It is something too far beyond me; it is unlike me; it seems to belong to another stage of being, while I am held fast in this. It mocks me, - somehow."

"It does not do so with me," I said.

"Ah, it is your world!" De Saussure said, laughing. "It could not do so with you very well."

"But look at Mont Pilatte now," resumed Mr. Marshall, - "with that crown of light on its brow; - does it not give you the feeling of something inapproachable - not literally but spiritually, - something pure, glorious, infinite - something that shames us mortals into insignificance?"

I looked, and I thought I knew why he felt as he did; but I did not think I could explain it to him just then.

"Have you a little of my feeling?" he said again. "Do you understand it?"

"I understand it, I think," I said.

"And do not share it at all?"

"No, Mr. Marshall. Of course, the mountain is great, and I am small; but the purity, and the glory, - that is not beyond reach; and no human being ought to be insignificant, and none need be."

"Not if his life is insignificant?"

"Nobody's life ought to be that," I answered.

"How can it be helped, in the case of many a one?"

"Yes indeed," said De Saussure; "there is a question. I should like to hear Miss Randolph answer it."

One spoke lightly and the other earnestly. It was not easy to answer them both.

"I should like to have you define insignificance first," I said.

"Can there be a more significant word?" said Mr. De Saussure. "It defines itself."

"A life of insignificance, is a life that does not signify anything," Mr. Marshall added.

"Most people's lives signify something," I said, stupidly, my thoughts running on far ahead of my words.

"Yes, to somebody in the corner at home," Mr. Marshall said, "whose affection cannot make a true estimate. But do most people's lives signify anything, except to some fond judgment of that sort?"

"Who is estimating you, in a corner at home?" said Mr. de Saussure.

"Nobody - and that you know. Nobody, except my old mammy."

"You are a lucky fellow, Hugh. Free as air! Now I have five or six dear appraisers at my home; who are of opinion that an epaulette and a commission would add to my value; or rather, to do them justice, they are very desirous to have my life - or my death - tell for something, in the struggle which occupies all their, thoughts at present. I do not mean that they have no choice, but, one or the other. And so am I desirous; but - Lucerne is so very captivating! And really, as, I said, one signifies so little."

"One is half of two," said Ransom - "and a hundredth part of a hundred."

"I should like, I think, to be half of two," said De Saussure, comically. "I don't care about being the hundredth part of anything."

"But you are going when I go?" said Ransom.

"Mrs. Randolph says so; and I suppose she will command me. What does Miss Randolph say?"

"Yes, to my question," said Hugh Marshall.

"I do not quite know what is either question," I replied; "and a judge ought to understand his cause."

"Is it my duty to go and plunge into the mêlée at home, because my mother and two aunts and three sisters are all telling me they will renounce me if I do not? I say, what does one signify?"

"And _I_ say, how may one escape from insignificance? - anyhow?"

"A man with your income need not ask that," said Ransom.

"What does Miss Randolph say?" De Saussure insisted.

"If you will tell me, Mr. De Saussure, what the South is fighting for, I can better answer you."

"That speech is Daisy all over!" said Ransom impatiently. "She never will commit herself, if she can get somebody to do it for her."

"Fighting for freedom - for independence, of course!" Mr. De Saussure said, opening his eyes. "Is there any question?"

"How was their freedom threatened?"

"Why," said Ransom, hotly, "what do you think of armies upon the soil of Virginia? - invading armies, come to take what they like? What do you think of Southern forts garrisoned by Northern troops, and Southern cities in blockade? Is that your idea of freedom?"

"These are not the cause, but the effect, of the position taken by the South," I said.

"Yes, we fired the first gun, Randolph," said Mr. Marshall.

"Sumter was held against us," said Ransom.

"Not till South Carolina had seceded."

"Well, she had a _right_ to secede!" cried Ransom. "And this right the Northern mudsills are trying to trample out. If she has not a right to be governed as she likes, she is not free."

"But why did she secede?" I asked. "What wrong was done her?"

"You are a girl, and cannot understand such matters!" Ransom answered, impatiently. "Just ask mamma to talk to you; - or I will!"

"Miss Randolph's question is pertinent though," said Mr. Marshall; "and I am ashamed to confess I am as little able to answer it as she. What wrong had they to complain of?"

"Why, Hugh, you certainly know," his companion answered, "that Lincoln was elected; and that if the government is to be in the hands of those who do not think and vote with us - as this election shows it will - we shall be pushed to the wall. The South and her institutions will come to nothing - will be in a contemptible minority. We do not choose that."

"Then the wrong done them was that they were out-voted?" Mr. Marshall said.

"Put it so!" De Saussure replied, with heat; "we have a right to say we will govern ourselves and sail our own boat."

"Yes, so I think we have," said the other. "Whether it is worth such a war, is another question, Such a war is a serious thing."

"It would be mean-spirited to let our rights be taken from us," said Ransom. "It is worth anything to maintain them."

"It will not be much of a war," resumed De Saussure. "Those poor tailors and weavers will find their workshops are a great deal more comfortable than soldiers' tents and the battle- ground; and they won't stand fire, depend upon it."

"Cowardly Yankees!" said Ransom.

"That is Preston's favourite word," I remarked. "But I am not clear that you are not both mistaken."

"You have lived among Yankees, till it has hurt you," said Ransom.

"Till I have learned to know something about them," I said.

"And is your judgment of the probable issue of the war, different from that I have expressed, Miss Randolph?" Mr. De Saussure asked.

"My judgment is not worth much," I said. "I have doubts."

"But you agree with us as to the right of preserving our independence?" Mr. Marshall said.

"Does independence mean, the governing power? Does every minority, as such, lose its independence?"

"Yes!" said De Saussure - "if it is to be permanently a minority."

"That would be our case, you see," Mr. Marshall went on. "Are we not justified in endeavouring to escape from such a position?"

I was most unwilling to talk on the subject, but they were all determined I should. I could not escape.

"It depends," I said, "the settlement of that question, upon the other question, whether our government is one or twenty."

"It is thirty!" said Ransom.

I had thrown a ball now which they could keep up without me. To my joy, the whole three became so much engaged in the game, that I was forgotten. I could afford to forget too; and quitting the fair lake and the glorious mountain that looked down upon it, ceasing to hear the eager debate which went on at my side, my thoughts flew over the water to a uniform and a sword that were somewhere in that struggle of rights and wrongs. My heart sank. So far off, and I could not reach him; so busy against the feelings and prejudices of my friends, and I could not reconcile them; in danger, and I could not be near; in trouble, perhaps, and I could not help. It would not do to think about. I brought my thoughts back, and wondered at old Mont Pilatte which looked so steadily down on me with the calm of the ages.