They trooped in together, Patty leading the procession; Jaqueline, still a little pale, but lovelier than ever, with her boy in her arms, and Marian with the lost youth back of her. She was too sincere to affect astonishment; and he had improved – was neither so gaunt nor so ghastly as when he first came. She took his hand – did she make a confession in the pressure? He felt suddenly self-condemned, as if he had misjudged her some way, and humble, as if he had nothing good enough to offer her. But he glanced up in the soft eyes – her life had not been very joyous, she was by no means a rich woman, and if she cared most for home and happiness —
She did not hear what they were saying at first. There was a sound as of rushing water in her ears.
"Oh, yes!" he answered, with an hysterical laugh, "I am to keep my own two legs to go upon. I owe it all to Collaston, who stood between me and surgeons' knives, and brandished his war club until they retreated. I shall lie here in supreme content until he bids me arise and walk."
What was it went over Marian's face. Not disappointment, but an inexplicable tenderness, as if she could have taken up the burden cheerfully, as if she were almost casting about for some other burden.
"Poor girl!" he said to himself; "she has devoted her sweetest years to others, and someone ought to pay her back in love's own coin."
Stafford had improved greatly and gained flesh. He had a fair, rather ruddy English complexion and light hair, with the unusual accompaniment of dark-brown eyes; and, though rather unformed, had a fine physique, which was as yet largely in the bone, but would some day have muscle and flesh.
The loss and ruin of Washington had been news to Ralston, though he had known the march of the vandals was inevitable. Annis interested and amused him in her talk. She was a very pronounced patriot in these days.
Eustace Stafford seemed quite bewitched with her. He came over every afternoon to bring word of Ralston, and perhaps to have an encounter of words with Annis. This day, while there were so many to entertain his friend, he stole off to school to walk home with her, though there was not a cloud in the sky that could give him a shadow of excuse.
She was going to walk some distance with one of her mates. "Perhaps it would tire you," she said mischievously.
"I have been in the house all the morning," was the reply.
"Did they bring the baby? It's the most beautiful baby in the world, isn't it?"
"I haven't seen all the babies in the world – " a little awkwardly.
"But he ought to be able to tell whether one is pretty or not, oughtn't he, Eliza?"
Eliza, thus appealed to, hung her head and said, "Perhaps – " frightened and yet delighted to comment on a young man's taste.
"Perhaps British babies are different," was Annis' rather teasing comment.
"I think babies are a good deal alike – "
"No, they are not," and she put on a pretty show of indignation. "I think you are not capable of judging."
"I am sure I am not," he said with alacrity. "They're kept in a nursery at home, you know, and have a playground out of the way somewheres."
"I am very glad I am not an English child, aren't you, Eliza? Poor things! to be stuck out in a back yard!"
"My aunt and cousin are going to England as soon as traveling is safe," said Eliza, with a benevolent intention of pouring oil upon the troubled waters. "He is going to some college."
"There are fine colleges in England. There are very few here."
"We haven't so many people. Charles – that's my brother – went through Harvard, which is splendid, when he was spending some time in Boston. And he may go to Columbia. That's in New York, where he is at school."
"New York is a large city. The English held it in the Revolutionary War."
"But they had to march out of it," said the patriot. "And they had to march away from Baltimore. And now they will have to march away from the whole United States, after they have done all the harm they could and killed off the people and almost murdered poor Lieutenant Ralston."
"But that is war. I'm sorry there should ever be war. I wouldn't have it if I was a king. But your people declared war," remembering that.
"How could we help it, when our poor sailors were snatched from their own vessels and made to fight against us or be beaten to death? Do you suppose we can stand everything? We were altogether in the right, weren't we, Eliza?"
Eliza glanced furtively at the very good-looking face, scarlet with anger and mortification, and wondered how Annis could get in such a temper with him.
"I don't know about the causes of war," she said hesitatingly. "Some people blame Mr. Madison – "
"There are Tories always. I've heard papa tell how many there were in the Revolutionary War. But, you see, we wouldn't have won if we had not had right on our side," she added triumphantly.
"But Napoleon won in a great many battles," Stafford ventured.
"Perhaps he was right then," with emphasis.
This casuistry nonplussed the English boy. If Annis wasn't so sweet and pretty —
Eliza had to say good-by reluctantly.
"Let us go this way," proposed Annis.
"This way" brought them to the defaced and injured Capitol. Annis' scarlet lip curled.
"It is a shame," he acknowledged. "And – if it will do you any good, I'm awfully sorry that I came over to fight. But, you see, we don't understand. So many people think that after all England did for the Colonies, they had no right to rebel, and that she still has some claims – "
"All she did!" exclaimed the fiery censor. "She persecuted the Puritans, and they came over to a horrid wilderness. She took New York away from the Dutch. And she sent shiploads of convicts over to Virginia to be a great trouble to the nice people who had grants of land. And she said we shouldn't trade anywhere – "
"If the heads of government could understand; or if the people could see how fine and heroic and noble the Americans are, I think they would refuse to come over and fight them. I am glad they are going away. And when I get home I shall tell everybody how brave they are, and of the splendid homes they have made. And perhaps if Captain Ralston hadn't stopped to give me a drink and bandage my wound he might have found a better place of refuge. I know my father will be grateful, for I think he saved my life, and came mighty near losing his own. I shall always be glad I didn't really fight. I was struck before I fired my musket. And Dr. Collaston is just like a brother. I like you all so. I shall hate to go away." The words poured out with confused rapidity.
"I hope you will have the courage to tell the truth," she replied severely. "I have heard that some of the English think we are black, like the slaves they brought over to us. And, do you know, they have been stealing them again and carrying them off to the Bermudas. Or they believe we have turned into wild Indians."
"They don't know," he said again weakly.
"Wasn't Mr. Adams over there a long while – and the great Mr. Benjamin Franklin, and Mr. Jay, and ever so many others? We send a minister to them – not a real preacher," in a gracious, explanatory way that made her more fascinating than ever, "but to discuss affairs; so they ought to know whether we are black or white."
"Oh, they do at court! If I could make you understand – " his boyish face full of perplexity.
"I think I do understand when I see Washington in ruins. And I shall be glad when every Englishman goes back. We don't go over to England and burn and destroy."
He had a vague idea there was something to be said for his side, but he did not just know what. It seemed rather ungrateful, too, as he was a pensioner on the hospitality of her brother-in-law. It was extremely mortifying, since his cousin had been intrusted with money for him. So he was silent, but that did not suit the little lady, who enjoyed the warfare like a born soldier.
She was always "saving up" disgraceful incidents she heard, to tell him.
"You are pretty hard on the young fellow," Roger said to her one day. "We must forgive him a good deal for his devotion to Ralston."
"But think how you and doctor brother went out and gathered up the wounded, and there were some British among them as well. He ought to be very grateful."
"I think he is. And he is a nice lad."
Their skirmishes were very amusing to the family. Patty really admired the young fellow, he seemed such a big, innocent-hearted boy; but she enjoyed posting Annis as to her side of the argument.
"Are you going?" Captain Ralston said to Marian as they were making preparations for departure.
"You – you do not need me," she murmured as, holding her hand, he drew her down nearer the pillow.
"I suppose everybody else does," he declared pettishly. "You never considered me. You did not really care – "
There were tears in her eyes as she tried to turn away.
"Perhaps when the others are all dead and gone, and I am an old man, you may remember what you confessed those two blessed days. Or you may recall it over my grave."
"I deserve it all," she returned meekly. "I tried – oh, yes, I did; but I was weak – "
"Is it too late to go back?"
"Come, Polly!" cried Jaqueline. Sukey, the general factotum at the Carringtons', called Marian "Miss Polly." "Can't be boddered wid no sech outlandish name as Miss Ma'yan – dat kinks my tongue up like a bit a 'yalum,'" she declared.
"Polly – you will come to-morrow?"
"Yes – yes," with a scarlet face. "If you want me."
"I want you. I have a great deal to say to you."
But it took many to-morrows to get it all said. There were rough places and doubts, intensified by the experiences Ralston had gone through, and the nervous strain of not only the long illness, but the almost certainty there had been at one time of his losing his leg. That danger was really over, but a great deal of carefulness had to be observed. And few indeed can bring back the sparkle to the cup of youth, when the freshness is no longer there.
Marian grew more girlish, as if the hands of time were running the other way. The force that had impelled her to middle life was removed. She had gained a certain experience, quite different from the man who had been mixing with the world. But what mattered when they came back to the level of love?
Congress held its session at Blodgett's Hotel. It is true there were heated discussions on the terms of peace, contradictions, and dogmatic assertions. Perhaps the meetings at the Octagon House, and the sweet, affable mistress had much to do with softening asperities. Everybody, it seemed, came, and it was conceded that we had gained a good deal in the respect of foreign nations. Commerce took on a brisk aspect. War vessels came into port, and though they did not lay aside all their defenses, – for the high seas were still infested with privateers, – they took on the cargoes of industry instead of munitions of war. It was found now that we had made strides in manufacturing ordinary goods, though women were delighted with the thought of once more procuring silks, satins, velvets, and lace without extraordinary risks.
Eustace Stafford spent much of his time exploring Washington, taking long walks and numerous drives with the doctor. The beautiful Potomac, the towns along its edge, the falls that in a cold spell had just enough ice to make them wonderful and fairy-like, Port Tobacco that had once been a thriving place, the inlets and creeks and the fine and varied Virginia shore, and the magnificent Chesapeake dotted with islands. And there was Annapolis, destined to grow more famous as years went on.
He had not half explored the country when word came from his father, inclosing a draft to bring him home and reimburse the friends who had sheltered him with such cordiality.
"I am sorry enough to leave you," he said with deep emotion. "I feel like becoming an out-and-out American, but I shall never be a soldier."
"Not in case of necessity?" said Patty with charming archness.
"Of course if I had a home here I should defend it to the last drop of blood in my veins – yes, even against my own kindred," and he blushed with a feeling akin to ardent patriotism that surprised himself. "I think we only need to understand each other's governments better to be good friends. There is something grand here. It may be the largeness of everything, and the aspirations, the sense of freedom, and – well, that certain equality. You are not bound about by rigid limits."
Mr. Carrington said Stafford must go to one levee, though that there were such throngs now that it was hardly comfortable. Ralston insisted that he also must pay his respects to Mrs. Madison, for now he could get about on crutches, but it was not considered safe to bear any great weight upon his injured limb as yet.
It was quite a fine scene, Stafford admitted. There was a great variety in dress, the older men keeping to the Continental style largely, with flowing frills to their shirt fronts and lace ruffles at their wrists, velvet smallclothes and silk stockings, and hair tied with a black ribbon or fastened in a small silk bag.
Some of the younger men wore their hair curling over their shoulders. There were gorgeous waistcoats, the upper part flowered satin, and then a finishing of scarlet that came halfway to the knee, the coats turned back and faced with bright colors. Mrs. Madison was resplendent in her red turban, with nodding ostrich plumes, and the row of short black curls across her white forehead, and her gown of cream satin, of so deep a tint as to be almost yellow, with its abundant trimming of scarlet velvet.
Ralston was quite a hero for his misfortunes and his counsels, which had averted some disaster and would have saved much more if they had been followed. Everybody could see the blunders and the supineness that had really invited such a catastrophe. But peace had softened many of the animadversions, and the charming sweetness of the first lady of the land healed many differences. It was true that the two later years of the administration went far toward redeeming the mistakes of the earlier part.
Annis had plead hard to go, but Jaqueline had not thought it best.
"You and Mr. Stafford will be sure to get in a quarrel," she said laughingly. "There will be plenty of levees for you to attend when you are older. And the Octagon House has not the room of the poor burned mansion. It is always crowded."
Then Eustace Stafford said good-by with great grief to the people he had come to fight, and found among them the warmest of friends. He had not been alone in his experience.
Before Congress adjourned a bomb was thrown into the camp. Since Washington was a heap of ruins and would have to be rebuilt, why not remove it to some more advantageous location?
CHAPTER XXI.
ANNIS
How near the Capital City came to be handed down in history as Old Washington its denizens of to-day will never know. There were many cogent reasons for changing it. It had grown so slowly; it would require an immense amount of money to rebuild it; the place had never taken root in the affections of the whole country.
But, then, it was the city of Washington and the old worthies who had made the country. There was Florida for the southern point, as well as Maine for the north-eastern; there were the great Mississippi and Louisiana, as well as the lake countries. Was it not nearly the center?
Men like Arthur Jettson set about retrieving their fortunes and showing their faith in the place. Mrs. Madison made it as agreeable as possible to foreign ministers and their wives, and guests from the more important cities. Colonel and Mrs. Monroe added to the attractions. The Capitol was repaired slowly, but it was two years before the White House was undertaken.
The scars were all healed long ago. The broad avenues stretch out with handsome residences, and the streets that little Annis thought so funny because they were "like the A B C of the spelling book one way, and the first lesson in the arithmetic the other way," have filled up the vacant spaces with rows of houses. Tiber Creek is no more, and Rock Creek, which rushed and brawled and overflowed its banks in a freshet, is a dull little meandering stream. Where the Lees and Custises held sway and entertained in a princely manner there is a grave, decorous silence and a City of Heroes, who, having done their duty for liberty and country, sleep well under the green turf. Georgetown has enlarged her borders, and is beautiful. Mount Vernon, with its two hundred years of history, is the nation's heritage. Old Washington is almost forgotten, with here and there a relic and a few old maps one can pore over in the grand Congressional Library. And now it is indeed the City of the Nation, with its many treasures, even if they are modern, its handsome legations, its beautiful circles to commemorate the heroes of later times. And Dolly Madison lived to see many of the improvements, and to be the historic link between the old and the new.
As for Annis Mason, she found it undeniably dull when Eustace Stafford had gone. Even knowledge seemed to lose its charm, and the babies grew commonplace. But, then, in the spring Miss Polly and her lover were married and set up a cozy little home of their own, and really wanted Annis in it.
Then Varina came home – a tall, slim girl, quite vivacious and ever so much better tempered than in her youth; and really rather patronized Annis, who was not a year younger, but quite a little girl, not come to trains nor a great pile of hair on the top of her head, and a cascade of puffs in front, and a comb so big it had to be carried in a bag when you went out of an evening.
Then she had a lover, too – a fine young South Carolinian, who had an immense plantation and no end of slaves, and was going into the new industry of raising cotton.
There was a very general demur. Varina was so young, if she was tall. But, then, Southern girls grew up soon, and many of them were wives at fifteen.
"There must be a year's engagement," her father said. Varina must learn how to manage a household; and girls had a good deal of instruction in housewifely arts in those days, even if there was a regiment of slaves to do everything.
"I'll coax off six months," Varina declared to her lover, and he went away with that comfort.
She was surprised and amused at Annis' book-learning, and teased her considerably. Did she mean to be a schoolmistress?
Charles returned in capital health and spirits and full of ambitious plans. He had not quite decided what he would be, either a chief justice or a minister abroad. He was not sure now that he wanted to be President.
"For people do say such dreadful things about you. And you don't seem to suit anyone. I don't wonder Mr. Madison looks old and thin and careworn."
"Do you remember," said Varina laughingly, "that I used to oppose a marriage between you and Annis? I wasn't going to let her have everything. I used to consider that you belonged to me."
"You had a great way of appropriating everybody."
"What a ridiculous thing I was! And now I have made up my mind that you are just suited to each other. You can still sit on the window ledge and pore over the same book."
"Annis is well enough, but I am sure she wouldn't find Latin and Greek interesting. And by the time I want to marry, Annis will be – well, quite an old woman."
"If you don't marry until you are forty-nine she will have turned the half-century. That would be rather old. I shall be a grandmother before that time."
"All you girls think about is getting married," returned the youth disdainfully.
"We think to some purpose, too, don't we? I wouldn't be an old maid for a fortune!"
Annis was not sure she liked the defection on Charles' part. He assumed a rather lofty air. Louis said he was still a prig, that all the nonsense had not been knocked out of him. But he was a very nice boy, for all that – gentlemanly, refined, and extravagantly fond of his stepmother. There were times when Annis felt inclined to jealousy.
He was going to enter college at Williamsburg.
"It ought to make me proud of my own State, as well as the whole country," he explained impressively to Annis. "And then I shall go to Oxford maybe, or some of the old English places that have the years of antiquity back of them, and stand for all that is highest in knowledge, that have romance and story and grandeur woven into their very stones. Cloistered shades! Think how beautiful they must be. And all the riches of Europe at one's command!"
"If you like that kind of riches," disdainfully. "Wars and bloodshed, rapine and cruelty, grasping and persecution – " Annis paused, out of breath from indignation.
"That's like a girl! You can't distinguish between physical and intellectual progress. All nations have begun on the low round. It is the capability of ascending in the scale that gives them the real grandeur."
"I think they have not ascended very much in the scale," returned Annis rather haughtily, the blackened ruins of the beloved Washington and the day and night of terror before her eyes.
"You are not capable of judging. It is what nations have done in the aggregate. A thousand years have witnessed marvels."
"Still, we haven't gone back to 'Solomon in all his glory.' And Job, you know, had the names of the stars, and understood almost everything."
She had been reading the book of Job aloud to her stepfather, who was always interested in the historical parts of the Bible.
"No one has really settled as to who Job was," said the youth with calm superiority.
"Well, the knowledge is all there," returned Annis. "Some day, thousands of years hence, someone may express doubts about Columbus and John Smith and Washington, but the country will be here."
Girls were not made for argument, and if you went on forever they would have the last word, no matter how inane it might be. Charles thought Annis much changed for the worse, just like other girls, because she no longer hung on his words and paid him a loving deference. Her worship had been something new to the boy, for Varina claimed by force, and was the superior power herself. The others simply petted him. Annis understood and appreciated. But he had outgrown the boyish fervor, and she no longer paid homage to him.
He was too young to know that it was simply lack of admiration, and vanity crying out with the wound.
Annis had quaffed the sweets of admiration herself. A nature less fine and wholesome would have been spoiled by the warm and fond approval of her brothers-in-law, and the preference of others she had met. She was coming to have the dawning self-appropriation of womanhood, and no longer offered her choicest gifts, but felt they must be sought with a certain humility. And there was no humility at all about Charles at that period. They were both too near parallel lines.
Yet it was a busy, happy, engrossing time. Varina took possession of Louis, who was developing much of his father's easy-going nature, but with the ambitions of the new generation and the times; then, his associations had been cast on different lines. It was whispered, too, that a friend of Patty's with whom Annis was a great favorite had cast a glamour over the young lawyer.
Annis solaced herself with the thought that Varina would marry and go away, but all the others would be left, and her dearly beloved Washington. Roger said she would do for an archæologist, she was so fond of exploring ruins. She insisted that Marian and Captain Ralston should make pilgrimages to the little old hut where he had so nearly died, and they found many marks of the battle, that if it had been an ignominious rout, still had in it the better part of valor, when the enemy were overwhelming. Baltimore was glorying in her splendid defense of Fort McHenry, and a girl who could not sing "The Star-spangled Banner" was considered half a Tory.
Though Annis was so young, hardly fifteen, she and Varina had so many invitations to Washington that Mr. Mason suggested they should engage board by the month. Varina was making the best of her time, for she had "coaxed off" six months of the engagement, and her lover was to come soon after Christmas. In the spring Louis was to set up a home of his own.
Varina's marriage was in the old home, which was crowded with relatives and guests. Her mother's wedding gown did duty again, and then it went to Jaqueline as an heirloom. Mr. Woodford was tall and really fine-looking, with a good deal of character in his face, and of good family, ten years older than Varina, which brought him to the prime of young manhood.
"Really!" exclaimed Patty, "I do not see what remarkable grace or virtue in Varina captured so substantial and devoted a lover – though she has improved in temper, and is better-looking; but she will never have the Verney beauty – hardly the Mason. Well, one can't explain half the queer happenings in this world."
Besides the cotton, Mr. Woodford had extensive rice fields. Long ago rice had been brought from Madagascar. In both the Carolinas many industries had been established. Seventy years before, General Oglethorpe had carried to England from Georgia eight pounds of silk to be made into a dress for the queen. It was no wonder England hated to lose her promising colonies.
Varina's marriage was extremely satisfactory. Patricia's had been just a little shadowed by Jaqueline's broken engagement, and the half-superstitious feeling that it brought the best luck to the house for the eldest girl to be married first. But Miss Jaqueline had her own true lover after all, and was happy as a queen.
So Varina took her portion and the family blessing, even that of Aunt Catharine, who was growing stout and felt that she had the burden of half the world on her shoulders, and William and Mary College thrown in. She didn't see how anything could go on without her.
Perhaps to feel of use is one of the great incentives to earnest living.
"And you are to come and make me a long visit, Annis," Varina said cordially. "I shall be sorry for you, left all alone here; and I'll write and tell you everything. And there's Dolly, too, who has the gayest of gay times! They are quite certain to nominate Cousin Preston for representative next year. You see we are getting to be rather famous people."
It was very lonely when they all went away. And now Annis had her mother all to herself. No, not all – that could never be again. For now that there were no children whose future must be considered, and Charles had planned out his own, Randolph Mason, who had always been easy-going, dropped into the softened and indolent ways of prosperous elderly life, and became his wife's shadow.
True, his heart was large enough to take in Annis at every step. But he had grown stout, and was not such an enthusiastic horseman, though the yearly races inspired all Virginians to keep some fine horses. He liked the carriage better, with his wife beside him; and then Annis was alone on the back seat. Of course he had the best right, Annis recognized that.
She sewed and did drawn work and made lace, worked embroidery in gold and silver thread, and helped with her "fitting out."
"But if I should never marry?" she said to her mother.
"Girls do, mostly," was the mother's quiet reply. "And your father insists you shall have as much as the other girls."
So there was spinning, and weaving in the loom room, and bleaching to be considered in the spring, as May dew was esteemed a wonderful whitener of linens and cottons, though they were mostly woven in the Eastern towns. Now and then came gossipy notes from Varina. Charles wrote dutiful letters to his mother, and sent love to Annis. But the Washington households were begging for Annis continually.
"Yes, I would go," said her mother. "It is dull for one girl alone here on the plantation."
"Mamma – don't you want me?" There was a lustrousness like tears in her eyes.
"My dear!" Her mother kissed her fondly. "Of course I want you. But I have so many cares and occupations, and father takes a good deal of my time, and you have so few amusements. It is the difference, dear, between young people and old people. I want your young life to be pleasant."
"I wish we lived in Washington. Why can't papa build on Virginia Avenue, and have a nice garden, and keep horses, and – " What else was there for him to do?
"He has become settled in this life. He was born and reared here, and has his friends and neighbors about him. It would make him unhappy to go away. The slaves are all fond of him, and it is his pride to be a good master. No; he couldn't leave everything. It is the young people who go out and settle in new homes. And that is the way the Lord has ordered it. 'For this cause' – that is, love – 'shall a man leave father and mother, and cleave unto his wife.' And the wife does the same thing."
"Mamma," with a faint tint of color, "I do not think I shall ever be married."
Her mother gave a soft little smile.
"You know Varina was always planning, and Patty used to say 'When I am married,' but I feel curious, and – alone. Perhaps I shall stay with you and father always," and she gave a tender little sigh. "Would you want an old maid?"
"Perhaps I shall need you to take care of me, as grandma did Marian."
"But I don't want you to die." She clasped her arms about her mother's neck convulsively.
"Dear, that would give us thirty-odd years. And grandmother was not a very old woman. A great many things may happen in that time. I think you are a little out of spirits and lonesome. You had better go up to Jaqueline's to-morrow. Cato and Jim are going up with a load. Cato can escort you, and they can take a portmanteau in the wagon. Captain Ralston complains that you have quite deserted him."
"And desert you!" half reproachfully.
"I shall have papa. Yes, little girlie, you must go and have a nice time. I shall think of all the pleasure you are enjoying. And we may come up for a few days."
"Oh, mamma – if you will! It would be strange to love anyone better than one's own mother."
But such things had been heard of in the history of womankind.