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Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre reproduit en un seul clich6, il est film6 A partir de Tangle sup6rieur gauche, de gauche d droite, et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre d'images ndcessaire. Les diagrammes suivants illustrent la m6thode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 ^S^^Srl^E^ 'if€iisr?ii^Kc^ -■:M-f^j*wim^. MICROCOPY RESOIUTION TEST CHART (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) I.I |45 150 2.8 140 2.2 2.0 1.8 ^ APPLIED IIVMGE Ir 1653 East Main Street Rochester, New York U609 USA (716) 482 - 0300 - Phone (716) 288 - 5989 - Fax L.ll.ki SSfl SaiHfe^ifJak' r;^^ "n v:>/^:*vi' v^ • *-l.r>-»'. ^-4ifv44^^.£'l*^i; '„ ji- . '." -*^,r ,' mii^ ' liSl;' 'Ml AILSA PAIGE "^Jf ^WT Works of Robert W. Chambers Ail lia The Danger Mark S[>ecial Messenger The Firing Line The Younger Set The Fighting Chance Some Ladies in Haste The Tree of Heaven The Tracer of Lost Persons A Young Man in a Hurry Lorraine Maids of Paradise Ashes of Empire The Red Republic Outsiders Paige The Green Mouse lole The Reckoning The Maid-at-Arms Cardigan The Haunts of Men The Mystery of Choice The Cambric Mask The Maker of Moons The King in Yellow In Search of the Un- known The Conspirators A King and a Few Dukes In the Quarter For Children Garden- LanQ Mountain-Land Forest-Land Orchard-Land River-Land Outdoorland Hide and Seek in Forest-Land 140 I li m, '&'A^£m^. li '-:-ff^miKwwir-\'r'.^' •*•' 7?^?^S5iISEBfc '•'It is thti-f, in you— all that I believed."' [Page -XG.] ''.D^^OHT^U: •««3r vj^i^mm. rvTTm AILSA PAIGE A NOVEL BY ROBERT W. CHAMBERS " It is at beat but a mixture of a little good with rrnich evil and a little pleamre with much pain ; the beautiful is linked with the revolt- tug, the trivial with the solemn, bathos with pathos, the commonplace tvith the sublime." ILLUSTRATED TORONTO McLEOD ik ALLEN PUBLISHERS ;-' f]Zij- r\ 0 ^;' 15. . ^- Copyright, 1910, by ROBERT W. CHAMBERS Copyright, 1910, by The Curtis Publishing CompMy Published August, 1910 ;SJIB-^».--V* ^•if'.^'^^Xii'^- TO THE CONQUERORS WHO WON IMMORTAL VICTORY "Arm yourselves and be Valiant Men, and see that ye ri.se up in readiness against the Dawn, that ye may do Battle with These that are Assembled against us. . "For it is better to die in Battle than live to behold the Calamities of our own People. . . .'" "Lord, we took not the Land into Possession by our own Swords; neither was it our own Hands that helped us; but Thy Hand was a Buckler; and Thy right Arm a Shield, and the Light of Thy Countenance hath conquered forever." ^^ AND TO THE VANQUISHED WHO WON IMMORTALITY "We are the fallen, who, with helpless faces Low in the dust, in stiffening ruin lay, Felt the hoofs beat, and heard the rattling traces As o'er us drove the chariota of the fray. " We are the fallen, who by ramparts gory. Awaiting death, heard the far shouts begin, And with our last glance glimpsed the victor's glory For which we died, but dying might not win. " We were but men. Always our eyes were holden, We could not read the dark that walled us round, Nor deem our futile plans with Thine enfolden— We fought, not knowing God was on the ground. " Aye. grant our ears to hear the foolish praising Of men— old voices of our lost home-land. Or else, the gateways of this dim world raising. Give us our swords again, and hold Thy hand." — W. H. Woods. v^m^^^.. I PREFACE Among the fifty-eight regiments of Zouaves and the seven regiments of Lancers enlisted in the service of the United States between 1861 and 1865 it will be useless for the reader to look for any record of the 3d Zouaves or of the 8th Lancers. The red breeches and red fezzes of the Zouaves clothed many a dead man on Southern battle-fields; the scarlet swallow-tailed pennon of the Lancers fluttered from many a lance-tip beyond the Potomac; the histories of these sixty-five regiments are known. But no history of the 3d Zouaves or of the 8th Lancers has ever been written save in this narrative; and historians and veterans would seek in vain for any records of these two regiments— regiments which mi^ht have been, but never were. WT^. • r Mib<'^£_iai'ii«£i~''< LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS i I i PACINO "'It is there, in you-all that I beHeved ' " /v.„./"" " What an insolently reckless head it was ! " . . .50 "'I won it fairly, and I'm going t<. stake it all on one last bet'" . , ,^„ I08 " ' Is Ormond your name ? "* 278 "'Must you go so soon? So soon?'" 304 " He dismounted and clutched the senseless carbineer " 352 "She dropped on her knees at his bedside and hid her face on his hands " ,^qg "' Phillip— Phillip— my lover, my country, my CJod- worshipped and adored of men ! ' " 500 -■a,r'5 '^^-n f^^MSk AILSA PAIGE CHAPTER I The butler made an instinctive movement to de- tain him, but he flung him aside and entered the draw- ing-room, the servant recovering his equilibrium and following on a run. Light from great crystal chan- deliers dazzled him for a moment; the butler again confronted him but hesitated under the wicked glare from his eyes. Then through the brilliant vista, the young fellow caught a glimpse of a dining-room, a table where silver and crystal glimmered, and a great gray man just lowering a glass of wine from his lips to gaze at him with quiet curiosity. The next moment he traversed the carpeted inter- val between them and halted at the table's damask edge, gazing intently across at the solitary diner, who sat leaning back in an arm-chair, heavy right hand still resting on the stem of a claret glass, a cigar suspended between the fingers of his left hand. " Are you Colonel Arran ? " " I am," replied the man at the table coolly. " Who the devil are you ? " " By God," replied the other with an insolent laugh, " that's what I came here to find out ! " 1 AILSJ PAIGE II... ,„„„.„ ,1k, t.l,|c. |„i,| ,,„„, |,„,„,, „„ „„, the; cloth a.„ ,„.r,l.v rose, from his chuir, then follL-k s,...I.V. ,„ Mlcnco, h„, hi, i„ten, ga^e never Icf, the o,h- cr s hl-'> the tahre":'ed ;r '""'" "'™"''' """<'' ^'■" «''PP™« " Larraway ! " " Sir? " " You may go," The small gray eyes in the pock-pitted face stole toward young Berkley, then were cautiously lowered Very well, sir," he said. " aose the drawing-room doors. No-this way. Go^ out through the pantry. And take Pin. witt. "Very well, sir." ^i^^ JILSJ PAIGE '* Ami, Lurraway ! " "Sir?" "When I want you I'll ri.i^r. Tntil then I don't want anybody or anything. I^ that understood-" " Vc8, sir." " That is all." " Thank you, sir." The great mahogany folding doors slid smoothly together, closing out the brilliant drawing-roon. : the {uin twitched unplmsantly; hut, when at length he spoke, he spoke more eiilnilv than before Kn" " Have you any doubts concerning what my attor- neys have told you.'' The originals are at your im- mediate disposal if you wish." Then Berkley struck the table fiercely, and stood up, as claret splashed and trembling crystal rang. "That's all I want of you!" he said. "Do you understand what you've done.' You've killed the last shred of self-respect in me ! Do you think I'd take any- AILSA PAIGE thing at your hands? I never cared for anybody in the world except my mother. If what your lawyers tell me is true—" His voice choked ; he stood swaying a mo- ment, face covered by his hands. " Berkley ! " The young man's iiands fell ; he faced the other, who had risen to his heavy six-foot height, confronting him across the table. " Berkley, whatever claim you have on me— and I'm ignoring the chance that you have none " " By God, I tell you I have none ! I want none ! What you have done to her you have done to me ! What you and your conscience and your cruelty and your attorneys did to her twenty-four years ago, you have done this day to nc! As surely as you outlawed her, so have you outlawed me to-day. That is what I now am, an outlaw ! " " It was insulted civilisation that punished, not I, Berkley- " " It was you ! You took your shrinking pound of flesh. I know your sort. Hell is full of them singing psalms ! " Colonel Arran sat silently stern a moment. Then the congested muscles, habituated to control, relaxed again. He said, under perfect self-command : " You'd better know the truth. It is too late now to discuss whose fault it was that the trouble arose be- tween your mother and me. We lived together only a few weeks. She was in love with her cousin ; she didn't realise it until she'd married me. I have nothing more 6 AILSA PAIGE to say on that score; she tried to be faithful. I believe she was; but he was a scoundrel. And she ended by thinking me one. "Even before I married her I was made painfully aware that our dispositions and temperaments were not entirely compatible. I think," he added grimly, " that in the letters read to you this afternoon she used the expression, ' ice and fire,' in referring to herself and me." Berkley only looked at him. " There is now nothing to be gained in reviewing that unhappy affair," continued the other. " Your mother's family are headlong, impulsive, fiery, un- stable, emotional. There was a last shameful and de- grading scene. I offered her a separation; but she was unwisely persuaded to sue for divorce." Colonel Arran bent his head and touched his long gray moustache with bony fingers. " The proceeding was farcical ; the decree a fraud. I warned her; but she snapped her fingers at me and married her cousin the next day. . . . And then I did my duty by civilisation.' Still Berkley never stirred. The older man looked down at the wine-soiled cloth, traced the outline of the crimson stain with unsteady finger. Tiien, lifting his head: " I had that infamous decree set aside," he said grimly. " It was a matter of duty and of conscience, and I did it without remorse. . . . They were on what mey supposed to be a wedding trip. But I had warned 7 AILSA PAIGE her." He shrugged his massive shoulders. « If they were not over-particular they were probably happy. Then he broke his neck hun ting-before you were born." " Was he my father.? " " I am taking the chance that he was not." " You had reason to believe " "I thought so. But-your mother remained silent. And her answer to my letters was to have you christened under the name you bear to-day, Philip Ormond Berk- ley. And then, to force matcers, I made her status clear to her. Maybe-I don't know-but my punish- ment of her may have driven htr to a hatred of me— a desperation that accepted everything— even you! " Berkley lifted a countenance from which every ves- tige of colour had fled. " Why did you tell me this.? " " Because I believe that there is every chance— that you may be legally entitled to my name. Since I have known who you are, I— I have had you watched. I have hesitated-a long while. My brokers have watched you for a year, now; my attorneys for much longer To-day you stand in need of me, if ever you have stood m need of anybody. I take the chance that you have that claim on me ; I offer to receive you, provide for you. That is all, Berkley. Now you know everything." "Who else— knows.?" "Knows what?" " Knows what you d)^ to my mother? " " Some people among the families immediately con- cerned," replied Colonel Arran coolly. 8 AILSA PAIGE "Who are they?" "Your mother's relatives, the Paiges, the Berk- leys— my family, the Arrans, the Lents " " What Lents? " interrupted the young man looking up sharply. " They live in Brooklyn. There's a brother and a sister, orphans ; and an uncle, Captain Josiah Lent." "Oh. . . . Who else?" "A ?.Irs. Craig who lives in Brooklyn. She was Celia Paifie, your mother's maid of honour." "W,. J else?" " A sister-in-law of Mrs. Craig, formerly my ward. She is now a widow, a Mrs. Paige, living on London Terrace. She, however, has no knowledge of the mattor in question ; nor have the Lents, nor any one in the Cra.^ family except Mrs. Craig." "Who else?" " Nobody." " I see. . . . And, as I understand it, you a^-e now stepping forward to offer me— on the chance of— of " " I offer you a place in this house as my son. I offer to deal with you as a father— accepting that belief and every responsibility, and every duty, and every sacrifice that such a belief entails." For a long time the young fellow stood there with- out stirring, pallid, his dark, expressionless eyes fixed on space. And after a while he spoke. " Colonel Arran, I had rather than all the happi- ness on earth, that you had left me the memory of my 9 AILSA PAIGE mother. You have cliosen not to do so. And now, do jfou think I am likely to exchange what she and I really are, for anything more respectable that you believe you can offer? " How, under God. you could have punished her as you did— how you could have reconciled your conscience to the invocation of a brutal law which rehabilitated you at the expense of the woman who had been your wi/c— how you could have done this in the name of duty and of conscience, I can not comprehend. " I do not believe that one drop of your blood runs in my veins." He bent forward, laying his hands flat on the cloth, then gripping it fiercely in clenched fists : " All I want of you is what was my mother's. I bear the name she gave me; it pleased her to bestow it ; it is good enough for me to wear. If it be hers only, or if it was also my father's, I do not know; but that name, legitimate or otherwise, is not for exchange ! I will keep it. Colonel Arran. I am what I am." He hesitated, rigid, clenching and unclenching his hands— then drew a deep, agonised breath: " I suppose you have meant to be just to me. I wish you might have dealt more mercifully with my mother. As for what you have done to me— well— if she was illegally my mother, I had rather be her illegitimate son than the sen of any woman who ever lived within the law. Now may I have her let- ters.?" " Is that your decision, Berkley .' " 10 .3^.. AILSA PAIGE " It is. I want only her letters from you — and any little keepsakes — relics — if there be any " '• I ofTcr to recognise you as my son." " I decline — believing that you mean to l>e just— and perhaps kind— God knows what you do mean by disinterring the dead for a son to look back upon " " Could I have offered you what I ofFer, other- wise? " "Man! Man! You have nothing to oflFer me! Vour silence was the only kindness you could have done me! You have killed something in me. I don't know what, yet— but I think it was the best part of me." " Berkley, do you suppose that I have entered upon this matter lightly? " Berkley laughed, showing his teeth. " No. It was your damned conscience; and I suppose you couldn't strangle it. I am sorry you couldn't. Sometimes a strangled conscience makes men kinder." Colonel Arran rang. A dark flush had overspread his forehead ; he turned to the butler. " Bring me the despatch box which stands on my study table." Berkley, hands behind his back, was pacing the din- ing-room carpet. " Would you accept a glass of wine? " asked Colonel Arran in a low voice. Berkley wheeled on him with a terrible smile. " Shall a man drink wine with the slayer of souls? " Then, pallid face horribly distorted, iie stretched out a 11 AILSA PAIGE shaking arm. " Not that jou ever could succeed in getting near enough to murder hers! But you've killed mine. I know now what died in me. It was that ! . . . And I know now, as I stand here excommunicated by you from all who have been born within the law, that there is not left alive in me one ideal, one noble impulse, one spiritual conviction. I am what your righteousness has made me-a n.an without hope; a man with nothing ahve in him except the physical brute. . . . Better not arouse that." " You do not know what you are saying, Berkley " -Colonel Arran choked; turned gray; then a spasm twitched his features and he grasped the arms of his chair, staring at Berkley with burning eyes. Neither spoke again until Larraway entered, carry- ing an inlaid box. " Thank you, Larraway. You need not wait." " Thank you, sir." When they were again alone Colonel Arran unlocked and opened the box, and, behind the raised lid, remained invisibly busy for some little time, apparently sorting and re-sorting the hidden contents. He was so very long about it that Berkley stirred at last in his chair; and at the same moment the older man seemed to arrive at an abrupt decision, for he closed the lid and laid two packages on the cloth between them. "Are these mine?" asked Berkley. " They are mine," corrected the other quietly, « but I choose to yield them to you." " Thank you," said Berkley. There was a hint of 12 «:*?v». :; . AILSA PAIGE ferocity in his voice. He took the letters, ^tu^ed around to look for his hat, found it, and straightened up with a long, deep intake of breath. " I think there is nothing n.ore to be said between us. Colonel Arran ? " " That lies with jou." Berkley passed a steady hand across his eyes. Then, s.r there remain the cere„,onies of my leave takmg- he stepped closer, level-eyed- ' and my very bitter hatred." ^ There was a pause. Colonel Arran waited a mo- ment, then struck the bell : " Larraway, Mr. Berkley has decided to so " " Yes, sir." ^ ' *' You will accompany Mr. Berkley to the door." Yes, sir." ,,, Jlf ^ hand to Mr. Berkley the outer key of this " Yes, sir." enf "fv"^.^" T ^^"- ^''^^'^ '''' ^^^^ desires to enter this house, he is to be admitted, and his orders are to be obeyed by every servant in it." " Yes, sir." Colonel Arran rose trembling. He and Berkley looked at each other; then both bowed; and the butler ushered out the younger man. " Pardon— the latch-key, sir." Berkley took it, examined it, handed it back " Return it to Colonel Arrun with Mr. Berkley's un- dymg-compliments," he said, and went blindly out 13 AILSA PAIGE into the April night, but his senses were swimming as though }io were drunk. Behind him the door of the house of Arran clanged. Larraway stood stealthily peering through the side- lights ; then tiptoed toward the hallway and entered the dmmg-room with velvet tread. Port or brandy, sir? " he whispered at Colonel Ar- ran's elbow. The Colonel shook his head. " Nothing more. Take that box to my study " Later, seated at his study table before the open box, lie heard Larraway knock; and he quietly laid away the mmiature of BerkJey's mother which had been lying in his steady palm for hours. "Well?" " Pardon. Mr. Berkley's key, with Mr. Berkley's comphments, sir." And he laid it upon the table by the box. "^ " Thank you. That will be all." " Thank you, sir. Good night, sir." " Good night." The Colonel picked up the evening paper and opened it mechanically: " By telegraph ! " he read, " War inevitable. Post- script! Fort Sumter! It is now certain that the Gov- ernment has decided to reinforce Major Anderson's command at all hazards- !> The lines in the Evening Post blurred under his eyes; he passed one broad, bony hand across them, 14 jj^'*. AILSA PAIGE .stra.ghtened h.s shoulders, and, setting the unli^hted Cigar firmly between his teeth, composed himself to read But after a few minutes he had read enough. He dropped deeper into his arm-chair, groping for the mmiature of Berkley's mother. As for Berkley, he was at last alone with his letters and h.s keepsakes, in the lodgings which he inhabited- and now would inhabit no more. The letters lay still unopened before him on his writing table; he stood ookmg at the miniatures and photographs, all por- traits of his mother, from girlhood onward. One by one he took them up, examined them- touched them to his lips, laid each away. The letters be also laid away unopened; he could not bear to read them now. The French clock in his bedroom struck eight He closed and locked his desk, stood looking at it blankly for a moment; then he squared his shoulders. An en- velope lay open on the desk beside him. " Oh— yes," he said aloud, but scarcely heard his own voice. The envelope enclosed an invitation from one, Ca- milla Lent, to a theatre party for that evening, an'_ ,:i;-T£-js ■'! AILSA PAIGE own feirden," she said, not noticing Camilla's mischief. " London Terrace will be green in another week." " How long do you stay with the Craigs, Ailsa.? " " Until the workmen finish painting my house and installing the new plumbing. Colonel Arran is good enough to look after it." Camilla, her light head always ringing with gossip, watched Ailsa curiously. " It's odd," she observed, " that Colonel Arran and the Craigs never exchange civilities." " Mrs. Craig doesn't like him," said Ailsa simply. " You do, don't you .'' " " Naturally. He was my guardian." " My uncle likes him. To me he has a hard face." " He has a sad face," said Ailsa Paige. I -i .-;; :-'¥^ irvY. CHAPTER III AiLSA and her sister-in-kw, Mrs. Craig, had been unusually reticent over their embroidery that early af- ternoon, seated together in the front room, which was now flooded with sunshine— an attractive, intimate room, restful and pretty in spite of the unlovely Vic- torian walnut furniture. Through a sunny passageway they could look into Ailsa's bedroom— formerly the children's nursery— where her maid sat sewing. Outside the open windows, seen between breezy cur- tains, new buds already clothed the great twisted ropes of pendant wistaria with a silvery-green down. The street was quiet under its leafless double row of trees, maple, ailanthus, a"d catalpa; the old man who trudged his rounds regularly every week was passing now with his muflled shout : Any old hats Olti coats Old boots! Any old mats Old suits. Old flutes! Ca-ash! And, leaning near to the sill, Ailsa saw him shuffling along, green-baize bag bulging, a pyramid o stove-pipe hats crammed down over his ears. 4 31 ' 'I AILS A PAIGE » At intervals from somewhere in the neighbourhood sounded the pleanunt bell of the scissorM grinder, and the not unmusical call of " Glass put in ! " But it was really very tranquil there in the sunshine of Fort Greene Place, stiller even for the fluted call of an oriole aloft in the silver maple in front of the stoop. He was a shy bird even though there were no im- ported sparrows to drive this lovely native from the trees of a sleepy city ; and he sat very still in the top branches, clad in his gorgeous livery of orange and black, and scarcely stirred save to slant his head and peer doubtfully at last year's cocoons, which clung to the bark like shreds of frosted cotton. Very far away, from somewhere in the harbour, a deep sound jarred the silence. Ailsa raised her head, needle suspended, listened for a moment, then resumed her embroidery with an unconscious sigh. Her sister-in-law glanced sideways at her. "I was thinking of Major Anderson, Celia," she said absently. " So was I, dear. And of those who must answer for his gove'nment's madness, — God fo'give them." There was no more said about the Major or his government. After a few moments Ailsa leaned back dreamily, her gaze wandering around the sunny walls of the room. In Ailsa Paige's eyes there was always a gentle caress for homely things. Just now they caressed the pictures of "Night" and "Morning," hanging there in their round gilt frames ; the window boxes where hyacinths blossomed ; the English ivy festooned to frame 32 AILSA PAIGE the window beside her sister-in-law's writing-desk; the melancholy engraving over the fireplace—" The Mother- less Bairn "—a commonplace picture which harrowed her, but which nobody thought of discarding in a i\ay when even the commonplace was uncommon. She smiled in amused reminiscence of the secret tears «he had wept over absurd things— of the funerals laid for birds found dead— of the " Three Grains of Com " poem which, when a child, elicited from her howls of anguish. Little golden flashes of recollection lighted the idle path as her thoughts wandered along huzy ways which led back to her own nursery days ; and she rested there, in memory, dreaming through the stillness of the afternoon. She missed the rattle and noise of Now York. It was a little too tranquil in Fort Greene Place; yet, when she listened intently, through the city's old-fashioned hush, very far away the voices of the great seaport were always -ludible — a ceaseless harmony of river whis- tles, ferry-boats signalling on the East River, ferry- boats on the North River, perhaps some mellow, reso- nant blast from the bay, where an ocean liner was head- ing for the Narrows. Always the street's stillness held that singing murmur, vibrant with deep undertones from dock and river and the outer sea. Strange spicy odours, too, sometimes floated inland from the sugar wharves, miles away under the Heights, to mingle with the scent of lilac and iris in quiet, sunny backyards where whitewashed fences reflected the 33 : ■ JLiiii. AILS A PAIGE mid-day glare, and cats dozed in strategical positions on grape trellis and tin roois of extensions, pre- pared for war or peace, as are all cats always, at all times. " Celia ! " Celia Craig looked up tranquilly. " Has anybody darned Paige's stockings? " "No, she hasn't. Honey-bell. Paige and Marye must keep their stockings da'ned. I never could do anything fo' myse'f, and I won't have my daughters brought up he'pless." Ailsa glanced humorously across at her sister-in- law. " You sweet thing," she said, " you can do anything, and you know it ! " *' But I don't like to do anything any mo' than I did befo' I had to," laughed Celia Craig; and suddenly checked her mirth, listening with her pretty close-set ears. " That is the do'-bell," she remarked, " and I am not dr'issed." " It's almost too early for anybody to call," said Ailsa tranquilly. But she was wrong, and when, a moment later, the servant came to announce Mr. Berkley, Ailsa regarded her sister-in-law in pink consternation. " I did not ask him," she said. " We scarcely ex- changed a dozen words. He merely said he'd like to call — on you — and now he's done it, Celia ! " 34 ■fi^.3t'TV'^ AILSA PAIGE Mrs. Craig calmly instructed the servant to say that they were at home, and the servant withdrew. " Do you approve liis coming— this way— without anybody inviting him? " asked Ailsa uneasily. " Of co'se, Honey-bell. He is a Berkley. He should have paid his respects to us long ago." " It was for him to mention the relationship when I met him. He did not speak of it, Celia." " No, it was fo' you to speak of it first," said Celia Craig gently. " But you did not know that." "Why.?" " There are reasons. Honey-bud." "What reasons.?" " They are not yo' business, dear," said her sister- in-law quietly. Ailsa had already risen to examine herself in the mirror. Now she looked back over her shoulder and down into Celia's pretty eyes— eyes as unspoiled as her own. In Celia Craig remained that gracious and confident faith in kinship which her Northern marriage had nei- ther extinguished nor chilled. The young man who waited below was a Berkley, a kinsman. Name and quality were keys to her hospitality. There was also another key which this man possessed, and it fitted a little locked compartment in Celia Craig's heart. But Ailsa had no knowledge of this. And now Mrs. Craig was considering the advisability of telling her —not all, perhaps,— but something of how matters stood between the House of Craig and the House of 35 ":wffj^wiir'9ic:8i flfii AILSA PAIGE Berkley. But not how matters stood with the House of Arran. "Honey-bud," she said, « you must be ve'y polite to this young man." " I expect to be. Only I don't quite understand why he came so unceremoniously "^ " It would have been ruder to neglect us, little Puri- tan ! I want to see Connie Berkley's boy. I'm glad he came." Celia Craig, once Celia Marye Ormond Paige, stood watching her taller sister-in-law twisting up her hair and winding the thick braid around the crown of her head a la coronal. Little wonder that these two were so often mistaken for own sisters— the matron not quite as tall as the young widow, but as slender, and fair, and cast in the same girlish mould. Both inherited from their Ormond ancestry shghtly arched and dainty noses and brows, delicate hands and feet, and the same splendid dull-gold hair— features apparently characteristic of the line, all the women of which had been toasts of a hundred years ago, before Harry Lee hunted men and the Shadow of the Swamp Fox flitted through the cypress to a great king's un- doing. Ailsa laid a pink bow against her hair and glanced at her sister-in-law for approval. " I declare, Honey-bud, you are all rose colour to- day," said Celia Craig, smihng; and, on impulse, un- pinned the pink-and-white cameo from her own throat and fastened it to Ailsa's breast. S6 ^r^;5 ... .i^r-'^:.--:^:.''*?-4' AILSA PAIGE I I reckon I'll slip on a gay gown myse'f," she added mischievously. « I certainly am becoming ve'y tired of leaving the field to my sister-in-law, and my schoolgirl daughters." " Does anybody ever look at us after you come into a room.?" asked Ailsa, laughing; and, turning impul- sively, she pressed Celia's pretty hands flat together and kissed them. « You darling," she said. An unac- countable sense of expectancy-almost of exhilaration was taking possession of her. She looked into the mir- ror and stood content with what she saw reflected there. " How much of a relation t* he, Celia? " balancing the rosy bow with a little cluster of pink hyacinth on the other side. Celia Craig, forefinger crooked across her lips, con- sidered aloud. ''His mother was bo'n Constance Berkley; her mother was bo'n Betty Ormond; her mother was bo'n Fehcity Paige; her mother " "Oh please! I don't care to know any more'" protested Ailsa, drawing her sister-in-law before the mirror; and, standing behind her, rested her soft, round chm on her shoulder, regarding the two reflected faces. " That," observed the pretty Southern matron, " is conside'd ve'y bad luck. When I was a young girl I once peeped into the glass over my ole mammy's shoul- der, and she said I'd sho'ly be punished befo' the year was done." " And were you ? " 37 •« ■■^mi^^ AILSA PAIGE " I don't exactly remember," said Mrs. Craig de- murely, " but I think I first met my husband the ve'y next day." They both laughed softly, looking at each other in the mirror. So, in her gown of rosy muslin, bouffant and billowy, a pink flower in her hair, and Celia's pink-and-white cameo at her whiter throat Ailsa Paige descended the carpeted stairs and came into the mellow dimness of the front parlour, where there was much rosewood, and a French carpet, and glinting prisms on the chandeliers, — and a young man, standing, dark against a bar of sun- shine in which golden motes swam. " How do you do," she said, offering her narrow hand, and : " Mrs. Craig is dressing to receive you. . . It is warm for April, I think. How amiable of you to come all the way over from New York. Mr. Craig and his son Stephen are at business, my cousins, Paige and Marye, are at school. Won't you sit down ? " She had backed away a little distance from him, looking at him under brows bent slightly inward, and thinking that she had made no mistake in her memory of this man. Certainly his features were altogether too regular, his head and body too perfectly moulded into that dark and graceful symmetry which she had hith- erto vaguely associated with things purely and mytho- logically Olympian. Upright against the doorway, she suddenly recol- lected with a blush that she was staring like a schoolgirl, and sat down. And he drew up a » lir before her and 38 1 SM* 'x;^ m^^ '-H 1iJamB6iii^~^at:TBi^:..WM :''*>V' / iW/*^v.V'M-' «= AILSA PAIGE seated himself; and then under the billowy rose crinoline she set her pretty feet close together, folded her hands, and looked at him with a smiling composure which she no longer really felt. " The weather," she repeated, " is unusually warm. Do you think that Major Anderson will hold out at Sumter? Do you think the fleet is going to reheve him? Dear me," she sighed, "where will it all end, Mr. Berkley?" " In war," he said, also smiling ; but neither of them believed it or, at the moment, cared. There were other matters impending — since their first encounter. " I have thought about you a good deal since Ca- milla's theatre party," he said pleasantly. " Have you? " She scarcely knew what else to say — and regretted saying anything. " Indeed I have. I dare not believe you have wasted as much as one thought on the man you danced with once — and refused ever after." She felt, suddenly, a sense of uneasiness in being near him. " Of course I have remembered you, Mr. Berkley," she said with composure. " Few men dance as well. It has been an agreeable memory to me." " But you would not dance with me again." " I — there were — you seemed perfectly contented to sit out — the rest — with me." He considered the carpet attentively. Then look- ing up with quick, engaging smile : " I want to ask you something. May I? '* 89 AILSA PAIGE She did not answer. As it had been from the first time she had ever seen him, so it was now with her; a confused sense of the necessity for caution in dealing with a man who had inspired in her such an unaccount- able inclination to listen to what he chose to say. " What is it you wish to ask.? " she inquired pleas- antly. "It is this: are you really surprised that I came.? Are you, in your heart? " " Did I appear to be very much agitated? Or my heart, either, Mr. Berkley?" she asked with a careless laugh, conscious now of her quickening pulses. Out- wardly calm, inwardly irresolute, she faced him with a quiet smile of confidence. " Then you were not surprised that I came? " he insisted. " You did not wait to be asked. That surprised me a little." " I did wait. But you didn't ask me." " That seems to have made no difference to you," she retorted, laughing. " It made this difference. I seized upon the only ex- cuse I had and came to pay my respects as a kinsman. Do you know that I am a relation? " " That is a very pretty compliment to us all, I think." " It is you who are kind in accepting me." " As a relative, I am very glad to " " I came," he said, " to see you. And you know it." 40 AILSA PAIGE " But you couldn't do that, uninvited ! I had not asked you." " But— it's done," he said. She sat very still, considering him. Within her, subtle currents seemed to be contending once more, dis- turbing her equanimity. She said, sweetly: " I am not as offended as I ought to be. But I do not see why you should disregard convention with me." " I didn't mean it that way," he said, leaning for- ward. " I couldn't stand not seeing you. That was all. Convention is a pitiful thing — sometimes — " He hesitated, then fell to studying the carpet. She looked at him, silent in her uncertainty. His expression was grave, almost absent-minded. And again her troubled eyes rested on the disturbing symmetry of feature and figure in all the unconscious grace of re- pose ; and in his immobility there seemed something even of nobility about him which she had not before noticed. She stole another glance at him. He remained very still, leaning forward, apparently quite oblivious of her. Then he came to himself with a quick smile, which she recognised as characteristic of all that disturbed her about this man— a smile in which there was humour, a little malice and self-sufficiency and— many, many things she did not try to analyse. " Don't you really want an unreliable servant? " he asked. His perverse humour perplexed her, but she smiled. " Don't you remember that I once asked you if you needed an able-bodied man? " he insisted. 41 ^^ n AILSA PAIGE She nodded. " Well, I'm that man." She assented, smiling conventionally, not at all un- derstanding. He laughed, too, thoroughly enjoying something. " It isn't really very funny," he said. " Ask your brother-in-law. I had an interview with him before I came here. And I think there's a chance that he may give me a desk and a small salary in his office." " How absurd ! " she said. " It is rather absurd. I'm so absolutely useless. It's only because of the relationship that Mr. Craig is doing this." She said uneasily: "You are not really serious, are you ? " " Grimly serious." "About a— a desk and a salary—in my brother- in-law's office ? " " Unless you'll hire me as a useful man. Otherwise, I hope for a big desk and a small salary. I went to Mr. Craig this morning, and the minute I saw him I knew he was fine enough to be your brother-in-law. And I said, * I am PhiHp Ormond Berkley; how do you do! ' And he said, ' How do you do! ' And I said, ' I'm a relation,' and he said, ' I believe so.' And I said, ' I was educated at Harvard and in Leipsic; I am full of useless accomplishments, harmless erudition, and insol- vent amiability, and I am otherwise perfectly worthless. Can you give me a position ? ' " " ^\nd he said: ' Wliat else is the matter? ' And I 42 *VSf *-u:"i WW' AILSA PAIGE said, ' The stock market.' And that is how it remains. I am to cull on him to-morrow." She said in consternation : " Forgive me. I did not think yon meant it. I did not know that you were— were- " Ruined ! " he nodJed laughingly. " I am, prac- tically. I have a little left— badly invested— which I'm trying to get at. Otherwise matters are gay enough." She said wonderingly: " Had this happened when— I saw you that first time.? " "It had just happened. I looked the part, didn't I.?" ^ * " No. How could you be so— interesting and— and be— what you were— knowing this all the while? " " I went to that party absolutely stunned. I saw you in a corner of the box— I had just been hearing about you— and— I don't know now what I said to you. Afterward "—he glanced at her—" the world was spin- ning, Mrs. Paige. You only remained real—" His face altered subtly. « And when I touched you » " I gave you a waltz, I believe," she said, striving to speak naturally ; but her pulses had begun to stir again ; the same inexplicable sense of exhilaration and insecur- ity was creeping over her. With a movement partly nervous she turned toward the door, but there sounded no rustle of her sister's skirts from the stairs, and her reluctant eyes slowly re- verted to him, then fell in silence, out of which she presently strove to extract them both with some casual commonplace. 43 AILSA PAIGE E « I He said in a low voice, almost to himself: " I want you to think well of me." She gathered all her composure, steadied her senses to choose a reply, and made a blunder: "Do you really care what I think?" she asked lightly, and bit her lip too late. " Do you believe I care about anything else in the world — now ? " She went on bravely, blindly : "And do you expect me to believe in — in such an ex- aggerated and romantic expression to a staid and mat- ter-of-fact widow whom you never saw more than once in your life? " " You do believe it." Confused, scarcely knowing what she was saying, she still attempted to make light of his words, holding her own against herself for the moment, making even some headway. And all the while she was aware of mounting emotion — a swift inexplicable charm falling over them both. He had become silent again, and she was saying she knew not what — fortifying her common-sense with gay inconsequences, when he looked up straight into her eyes. " I have distressed you. I should not have spoken as I did." " No, you should not " " Have I offended you? " " I— don't know." Matters were running too swiftly for her; she strove 44 ^M f^fC'y<^-SLB AILSA PAIGE to remain c„ol. collecte,!, but confu.ion wa« ..oadilv appeared as allies. *' I— don't know what you mean." " Yes— you know." ..."you."' ""' ■""" " "■'""™''' !"•« '="« I «"« She caught her breath. " It is vour h,..m».. that torment you •• ™"'"' " It is desire to be near you " thin^i^r'' *'"■"'' yo" '"'d "-"" say such a is true' "T ' I"' ""*" ""'• »"' " " '-■', and it »«lf. It s just true. There has not been one moment ;:zi:r "'"• '"^''' ■'- >- f- f- memo:;:; " Please » H. "/ rrJ:^' ^"°'' "^'"* ^ ""^ «aylng_but It's true • " He checked h mself " T'm u • . , isn't like me ' " He C V ^ T^ "'^' '""^ ""'• "'"* me . He choked and stood „p ; she couid not n.ove; every nerve in her had become tense with el- 45 ■^i^.#i AILSA PAIGE i tions 8o bewildering that mind and body remained fet- tered. He was walking to and fro, silent and white under his self-control. She, seated, gazed at him as though stunned, but every pulse was riotously unsteady. " I suppose you think me crazy," he said hoarsely, " but I've not known a moment's peace of mind sine- that night— not one! I couldn't keep away any longer. I can't even hold my tongue now, though I suppose it's ruining me every time I move it. It's a crazy thing to come here and say what I'm saying." He went over and sat down again, and bent his dark gaze on the floor. Then : " Can you forgive what I have done to yoi ' " She tried to answer, and only made a sign of faint assent. She no longer comprehended herself or the emo- tions menacing her. A curious tranquillity quitted her at moments— intervals in which she seemed to sit apart watching the development of another woman, listening to her own speech, patient with her own silences. There was a droop to her shoulders now ; his own were sng- ging as he leaned slightly forward in his chair, arms resting on his knees, while around them the magic el)bcd, eddied, ebbed ; and lassitude succeeded tension ; mid she stirred, looked up at him with eyes that seemed dazed at first, then widened slowly into waking; and he saw in them the first clear dawn of alarm. Suddenly she flushed and sprang to her feet, the bright colour surging to her hair. " Don't ! " he said. " Don't reason ! There will be 4G AILSA I'AIOE >ou„,ll hate then,-«„,l ,ne, if ,.„„ „.,„„. tliink— until wc .01. esoh other ngmn '" ^ Jho dropped her eye, .lowly, ™d ,,,„.,, .k^,, ,,^.,, " Vou «,k too much," .he .«i,|. .. v„„ ,,,„„,,, „,„ "tomi that had whirled them into chao. Fear .tirred .harply, then co„,ternatio„_fl„he, ,.f pan,c p,ereed her with dart, of ,ha„,e. a. though .he l.ad been m physical contact with thi» man unde^'lh" '"";"«^r' ''"^'' '" »™'- •'"--nK now under the reaction; the man', mere prcence wa. becon,- ng unendurable; the room .tilled her. She turned, »<»roc knowmg what .he wa. doing; and at the ..me moment her s.«ter-in-law entered. she offered h.m a hand as .lim and white a. Ail,,a'., he glanced mqu.r.ngly at the latter, not at all certain who this charming woman might be. " Mrs. Craig," said Ailsa. up ciif:: I .'"'" '•" "^ """• "'"■' "-"'' «™- • .'\?'"l' ^°" """^ '■"''"■•^ '■'• Mr. Berkley.^ Or is it just the flattering Iri.h in you that flatter, u. poJ women to our destruction > " realWrac 77 ""t"'' """""'' '" P"^ *■" « <"'-'' ""'l laiing ™"""™"' = '" "'"''■ "" "'^"'-'- »«« 47 'A'^.-. AILSA PAIGE " Oh, it is the Ormond in you ! I am truly ve'y glad you came. You are Constance Berkley's son — Con- nie Berkley ! The sweetest girl that ever lived." There was a silence. Then Mrs. Craig said gently : " I was her maid of honour, Mr. Berkley." Ailsa raised her eyes to his altered face, startled at the change in it. He looked at her absently, then his gaze reverted to Ailsa Paige. " I loved her dearly," said Mrs. Craig, dropping a light, impulsive hand on his. "I want her son io know it." Her eyes were soft and compassionate ; her hand still lingered lightly on his, and she let it rest so. " Mrs. Craig," he said, " you are the most real per- son I have known in many years among the phantoms. I thought your sister-in-law was. But you are still more real." "Am I ? " she laid her other hand over his, consid- ering him earnestly. Ailsa looking on, astonished, no- ticed a singular radiance on his face — the pale transfigu- ration from some quick inward illumination. Then Celia Craig's voice sounded almost caressingly : " I think you should have come to see us long ago." A pause. " You are as welcome in this house as your mother would be if she were living. I love and honour her memory." " I have honoured little else in the world," he said. They looked at one another for a moment ; then her quick smile broke out. " I have an album. There are some Paiges, Ormonds, and Berkleys in it " 48 »Te?r^? fAW^'^lB^ i'rSB^:^ AILSA PAIGE Ailsa came forward slowly. " Shall I look for it, Celia? " " No, Honey-bell." She turned lightly and went into the back parlour, smiling mysteriously to herself, her vast, pale-blue crinoline rustling against the fur- niture. " My sister-in-law," said Ailsa, after an interval of silent constraint, « is very Southern. Any sort of kin- ship means a ^.reat deal to her. I, of course, am North- ern, and regard such matters as unimportant." " It is very gracious of Mrs. Craig to remember it," he said. " I know nothing finer than confidence in one's own kin." She flushed an^^iily. " I have not that confidence— in kinsman." For a moment their eyes met. Hers were hard as purple steel. "Is that final.?" " Yes." The muscles in his cheeks grew tense, then into his eyes came that reckless glimmer which in the beginning she had distrusted— a gay, irresponsible radiance which seemed to mock at all things worthy. He said : " No, it is not final. I shall come back to you." She answered him in an even, passionless voice: " A moment ago I was uncertain ; now I know you. You are what they say you are. I never wish to see you again." Celia Craig came back with the album. Berkley 49 ^mrr%^-'m- * AILSA PAIGE ii sprang to relieve her of the big book and a box full of silhouettes, miniatures, and daguerreotypes. They placed the family depository upon the table and then bent over it together. Ailsa remained standing by the window, looking steadily at nothing, a burning sensation in both cheeks. At intervals, through the intensity of her silence, she heard Celia's fresh, sweet laughter, and Berkley's hu- morous and engaging voice. She glanced sideways at the back of his dark curly head where it bent beside Celia's over the album. What an insolently reckless head it was! She thought that she had neCer before seen the back of any man's head so significant of char- acter— or the want of it. And the same quality— or the lack of it — now seemed to her to pervade his supple body, his well-set shoulders, his voice, every movement, every feature— something everywhere about him that warned and troubled. Suddenly the blood burnt her cheeks with a perfect- ly incomprehensible desire to see his face again. She heard her sister-in-law saying: " We Paiges and Berkleys are kin to the Ormonds and the Earls of Ossory. The Estcourts, the Paiges, the Craigs, the Lents, the Berkleys, intermarried a hun- dred years ago. ... My grandmother knew yours, but the North is very strange in such matters. . . . Why did you never before tome ? " He said : * It's one of those things a man is always expecting to do, and is always astonished that he hasn't done. Am I unpardonable? " 50 « wmmim^^gamr '-m-i " What an ii,s..le»tlv n-ckk-s. h,.;u! it wa>, • ' ^Jls/mix:^Mt^^m-■ th AILSA PAIGE " I did not mean it in that way." He turned his dark, comely head and looked at her as they bent together above the album. " I know you didn't. My answer was not frank. The reason I never came to you before was that — I ditl not know I would be welcomed." Their voices dropped. Ailsa standing by the win- dow, watching the orioles in the maple, could no longer distinguish what they were saying. He said : " You were bridesmaid to my mother. You are the Celia Paige of her letters." " She is always Connie Berkley to me. I loved no woman better. I love her still." " I found that out yesterday. That is why I dared come. I found, among the English letters, one from you to her, written — after.^' " I wrote her again and again. She never replied. Thank God, she knew I loved 'icr to the last." He i ested on the tabletop and stood leaning over and looking down " Dear Mr. Berkley," she murmured gently. He straightened himself, passed a hesitating hand across his forehead, ruffling the short curly hair. Then his preoccupied gaze wandered. Ailsa turned toward him at the same moment, and instantly a flicker of malice transformed the nobility of his set features : " It seems," he said, " that you and I are irrev- ocably related in all kinds of delightful ways, Mrs. Paige. Your sister-in-law very charmingly admits it, graciously overlooks and pardons my many delin- 51 l^lf w m AILSA PAIGE quencies, and has asked me to come again. Will you ask me, too?" Ailsa merely looked at him. Mrs. Craig said, laughing: "I knew you were all Ormond and entirely Irish as soon as I came in the do' — bcfo' I became aware of your racial fluency. I speak fo' my husband and myse'f when I say, pleasi remember that our do' is ve'y wide open to our own kin— and that you arc of them " " Oh, I'm all sorts of things beside—" He paused for a second-" Cousin Celia," he added so lightly that the grace with which he said it covered the impudence, and she laughed in semi-critical approval and turned to Ailsa, whose smile in response was chilly— chillier still when Berkley did what few men have done con- vincingly since powdered hair and knee-breeches became unfashionable— bent to salute Celia Craig's fingertips. Then he turned to her and took his leave of her in a conventional manner entirely worthy of the name his mother bore,— and her mother before her, and many a handsome man and many a beautiful woman back to times when a great duke stood unjustly attainted, and the Ormonds served their king with steel sword and golden ewer; and served him faithfully and well. Camilla Lent called a little later. Ailsa was in the backyard garden, a trowel in her hand, industriously loosening the earth around the prairie roses. " Camilla," she said, looking up from where she was kneeling among the shrubs, « what was it you said this 62 ■''\M?^m'z. AILSA PAIGE morning about Mr. Berkley being some unpleasant kind of man ? " " How funny," laughed Camilla. « You asked me that twice before." "Did U I forgot," said Mrs. Paige with a shrug; and, bending over again, became exceedingly busy with her trowel until the fire in her checks had cooled. " Every woman that ever saw him becomes infatu- ated with Phil Berkley," said Camilla cheerfully. « I was. You will be. And the worst of it is he's simply not worth it." " I— thought not." " Why did you think not? " " I don't know why." " He can be fascinating," said Camilla reflectively, " but he doesn't always trouble himself to be." " Doesn't he.? " said Ailsa with a strange sense of relief. Camilla hesitated, lowered her voice. " They say he is fast," she whispered. Ailsa, on her knees, turned and looked up. " Whatever that means," added Camilla, shudder- ing. " But all the same, every girl who sees him begins to adore him immediately until her parents make her stop." " How silly," said Ailsa in a leisurely level voice. But her heart was beating furiously, and she turned to her roses with a blind energy that threatened them root and runner. 53 AILSA PAIGE i II *|How did you happen to think of him at alP " continued Camilla mischievously. '♦ He called on-Mrs. Oaig this afternoon." I didn't know she knew him." " They are related— distantly— I believe " "Oh," exclaimed Camilla. "I'm terribly sorry I spoke that way about him, dear " "/don't care what you say about him," returned A Isa Pa.ge fiercely, emptying some grains of sand out o one of her gloves; resolutely emptying her n„nd, too, of Phihp Berkley. " f^^^--'" «h- «dded gaily to Camilla, " come in and we Jl have tea and gossip, English fashion. And I'll ell you about my new duties at the Hon.e for Desti- tute Chidren-every morning from ten to twelve, my dear, m the.r horrid old infirmary-the poor little dar- Imgsl-and I would be there all day if I wasn't a self- ish, mdolent pleasure-loving creature without an ounce of womanly feeling- Yes I am ! I must be, to go about to gallenes and dances and Philhannonics when there are motherless children in that infirmary, as sick for ack of love as for the hundred and one ailments dis- tressmg their tender little bodies." But over their tea and marmalade and toast she be- came less communicative; and once or twi. . the con- versation betrayed an unexpected tendency to drift to- ward Berkley. "I haven't the slightest curiosity concerning him, dear said Ailsa, attempt-: .g corroboration in a yawn- which indiscretion she was unable to accomplish' 54 AILSA PAIGE •• Well." rfnmrked C«,„ill,., .. ,h„ ,h,„„. After (•„n,ill„ h«.l g„„e, Ail,« r„„„.o.l „bo„. tho prl„u.< apparently renewing her acquaintance with the fannhar decorations. S„„,eti„,e, »he st„,„| „, endows, looking th„„«htfull, into the en.ptv »tr„., • »on.e.™e. .he sat .„ corner, critical,, .urve^n^ e„,p,; Y«,, the chance, were that he would scarcely care to M ter-n.l„w.» house, anywav, nor in her ow„-!a n In .ho could appeal to a wo„.a„ for a favourable opi L of urnself, aslcng her to suspend her reason, stitlell stultify her own intelligence, and trust .„ .■ imnul... n, . u . '° " s™t"iicnta mpulse that he desened the toleration and considera- ■on wh.ch he asked for. . . . ,t was certa.nly well or or ,„.t he should not return. ... It would be bet for her to lay the entire matter before her sister-in-law —that was what she would do immediately ' She sprang to her feet and ran lightly up-stairs • but fast as she fled, thought outran her sl^nde'r H^ g foot, and she can,e at last yery leisurely into vLt -m, a subdued, demure opportunist, ap'parently 1 nothmg on her n.ind and conscience. " If I may have the carriage at ten, Celia, Ml berin on the Desftute Children to-morrow. . . . p^„r babiTs; ^ . . If they only had once a week as wholesome food as IS wasted m this city ..... ""■ 'ry day by Irish servants .is i AILSA PAIGE which reminds mc-I suppose yoxx will have to invite your new kinsman to dine with you." " There is loads of time for that, Honey-bud," said her sister-in-lttw, glancing up absently frJm the note she w» i writing. " I was merely wondering whether it was necessary at all," observed Ailsa Paige, without interest. But Celia had begun to writo again. " I'll ask him," she said in her softly preoccupied voice, " Satu'- day, I think." "Oh, but I'm invited to the Cortlandt's," began Ailsa, and caught her under lip in her teeth. Then she turned and walked noiselessly into her bedroom, and sat down on the bed and looked at the wall. '.0ti "jaP.^ CHAPTER IV It was almost mid-April ; and still the silvery-green tassels on the wistaria showed no hint of the blue petals folded within; but the maples' leafless symmetry was already veined with fire. Faint perfume from Long Island woodlands, wandering pufFs of wind from salt meadows freshened the city streets; St. Felix Street boasted a lilac bush in leaf; Oxford Street was gay with hyacinths and a winter-battered butterfly ; and in Fort Greene Place the grassy door-yards were exquisite with crocus bloom. Peace, good-will, and spring on earth; but in men's souls a silence as of winter. To Northland folk the unclosing buds of April brought no awakening; lethargy fettered all, arresting vigour, sapping desire. An immense inertia chained progress in its tracks, while overhead the gray stonn- wrack fled away,— misty, monstrous, gale-driven before the coming hurricane. Still, for the Northland, there remained now little of the keener suspense since those first fiery outbursts in the South; but all through the winter the dull pain throbbed in silence as star after star dropped from the old galaxy and fell flashing into the new. And it was a time of apathy, acquiescence, stupefied incredulity; a time of dull faith in destiny, duller resig- nation. 57 '1//..V.< Kl/r;/;- a ho pnn.o. now. .,.. „.a.l .l,,v ,.f,„ ,l„v I.,- „ ,H..,p|e nor l.„. I,„l, ,|,»,.„„i„«, „„, „ ,,.„, ,^_|, _^ ^^^^.^ « f, '■"• ' "• -'» ■« '"tliMK of tail ship. „„, ,,i,, tlKv ,„„,pr..|,e„,l ,1,.. „,....U,s u.„u,rs of,, ,1....,,, <-.u,„hl,„« „,„,,, ,„c ,„l„|.. pro.,„r.-„„r ,!,„, „, I,;, I.C v,>»l ,l,»,„,<.»ralio„ of ,|,e „„„Hx .ooM ,|i,<.|o,o tl,. f..rn„„„ ,.,,v.sh.l of ,.„o,|,.„ ,„„,,„ ,„,„„,, „,^,^^_ .!k".r """^ ""''" ""' ''"'"'"'"'"■ "' ""■ «-'"'"" "."n-hc .ho h,..l ,„e„ Pn.,i,|..„.-..„, .,,h it ^ ' t..M. K.„„t ,h„po th„, .„.„^ i^^,„ ,_^ ^,^^ 1 OU.SO ..„doH, »„„ ,„„k„, „„, ,„„ „„. ,„,;^^ •■th i.yc» that no man un.lcrstoo,! '^ And now the »ofl ,un of April ,p„„ a »pe|l up„„ ,he Nort l.„H folk; for they h..l e,o, but th', T^ car, had he,, but they heard not: neither spoke thev' through the mouth. ' To them only one figure .eemed real, looming above later T. """'""'"' ■"'"«" "''^" • """-^ '"-od -.tclung the parapets of a sea-girt fort off Charleston. But the nat,on looked too long; the mirage closed 2 '"rt. -a, the flag itself, became unreal; thelne^^ ure on the parapet turned to a phantom. God's .Ml was doing. Who dared doubt.' "There seems to be no doubt in the South," ob- -er,ed Adsa Paige to her brother-in-la. one fragrant 58 -ill t.->*;-- '>'!3l ^ :/'k ■'^•\/u*' "k .-;^ .■): -f^ ■•^:;?%'^i»i^ c-tt'tt/fii. \M-' ^i £■ w'.rJ. AILSA PAIGK tvenln^ after dinner where, in the chisk, the fu,„ily hnd leathered on the stoop «fter the cu«tom of a simpler eru. Along the ,n,n street long lines «f front stoops blos- somed with the light spring gowns of women and young g.rl8, pale. thing. Fo' example, there's Jin.my Lent's heart " A quick outbreak of laughter swept them-all ex- cept Pa.ge, who flushed furiously over her first school- girl attair. " Th»t poor Jimmy ,l,il,| came to „,e ,,l,out it," .-on. tmued their mother, "and a,ke.l „,. if I ..„„|,| ,,, ,„„ bo eng,.,^,i ,„ hi,,,, „„,, I ,„.,, .Certainly, if Paj^e "";"/" ■"• • •>• ' ««» «ng.iged n,ym to' time, oefo I was fo'teen ' " 68 AILSA PAIGE Another gale of hiughtcr .Irowned h,r worJs, and Khe 8ut tJ,crc .linipkd, inischicvou., nnnelv lookin^f around, vit in hor careful soul shrewdlv pur.sui,.^r hir «ise policy of Hiring ujl scntin.entMl riiHtt- r.s in tl.t f«,n- ilv circle-letting in fresh air an.i sun-hine on ulmt so often takes root and flourishes rather nmrhi.liv at six- teen. "IfH perfectly absur.l," observed Ailsa, "at vour age, I*aige " "Mother was married at sixteen! Weren't von dearest ? " ' ' '• I certainly was; but / am a bad rebel a.ul ,,ou are good httle Yankees; and good little Yankees «ait till they're twenty odd befo' they do anything ve'v ri.licu- lous." *' We expect to wait," said Paige, with a dig„ifie.i glance at her sister. " You've four years to wait, then," laughed Marye. " What's the use of being courted if you have to wait four years .* " " And you've three years to wait, silly," retorted Paige. "But I don't care; I'd rather wait. It isn't very l„ng, now. Ail.sa, why don't y.,u ,„arrv again .' " Ailsa's lip curled her comment upon the sug«esti.m She sat under the crystal chandelier reading a Southern newspaper which had been sent recently to (Vjia. Pres- ently her agreeable voice sounded in appreciative reci- tation of what she was ro;;»iing. " Listen, Celia," she said, " this is reallv beautiful: 69 AILSA PAIGE Q^ And »haU net evening eaU another .tar Out of the infinite region, of thr night To mark thu, day in Heavenf At laM ve are A nation among nations, and the world ShaU man behold m many a distant port Another flag unfurled!" «l.e naul noth.ng. And Ailsa went on. breathing ou the opening beauty of Timrod', " EthnogeneH.s ": "AW come what may, whose farmer need we eourtf And, under God, whose thunder need we fearV" •M»rf «.*«< i/. mod M u,™,, rt««rf«» *,„ «^ *,_ in their oum treachery caught. By their own fears made bold. And leagued with him of old H'Ao Umg since, in the limits of the North, Set up his etnl throng, and warred with Ood— fVhat if, both mad and blinded in their rage Our foes should fling us down the mortal gauge, A,id wuh a hostile horde profane our sod!" The girl reddened, sat breathing a little faster, eves on the page; then: "^ "Nor uHnM we shv-i au batUeground! • . Th* winds ir oir defence Shall seem to blow; to ,u the hilU shall lend Their firmness and their calm. And in our stiffened .Hncws „r shall blend The strength of pine and palm! 70 ^ AILSA PAIGE i! CaU up the Hashing eUmmt* arn„nd And tfM the riyht and urony! On one side rrr»Li that dare to preach M'hat Christ and Pa,U rrfn^ni In teach—" ^^ " Oh ! " «l.e l,n,k.. off with a Hhnrp intuk. o, l.rcnth : no hov hehc.o .uch thing, of US i„ tiK. South, The pink fin. cK-cponed in (eli,. fraig's eJueks • hor .ps uncloM..!, tightened, «« though a cjuick retort had lH.en ,,uirkl y reconsidered. She n,edit«t«l. Th.n • " Honey-hell," «he .«id tranquilly, " if we .re hitter, try to renieniher that we are a nation in pain." ** A nation! " " Dear, we have always been that~onlv the No'th has ju«t found it out. Charleston is telling her now. God give that our cannon need not repeat it." " But, Celia, the cannon can't! The san.e flac be- longs to us both." " Not when it flies over Sumter, Honey-bird." There came a subtle ringing sound in f'elia Craig's ^-oice; she leaned forward, taking the newspaper from Ail>H .s idle fingers: " Try to Im.. fair," she said in unsteady tones - Cod kru.ws I am not trying to teach you ' secession, hut •suppose the guns on Governor's Island u.-re suddenly ««ung round anri pointed at tins street- Would you CHre ve'y much what, flag happened to he flying over Castle William.' Listen to another warning from this •stamless poet of the South." She opened the news- paper feverishly, glanced quickly down the column., 71 :#SViVr%.i 5SfS!S?5^S3?5^T MICROCOPY RESOlUTirN TEST CHART (ANSI one ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 1^ lit Hi 2.8 ■ 40 2.5 2.2 2.0 1.8 ^ APPLIED IN/MGE '65 J East Main Street Rochester, New York '4609 USA (716) 482 -0300- Ph.-,ne (716) 288 - 5989 - Fa. i«?-^«*NI M.^j. IILSA PAIGE and holding it high under the chandelier, read in a Lushed but di.^tinct voice, picking out a verse here and there at random : "Cithn as that srcoiuf sutumrr uhich precedes The pM jail of the .siioir. In the hroad .sanliffht of hrmir deedn A city hideK her joe. "A.s net, behind hitjh ramparts stern and proud Where bolted thunders sleep. Dark- Samter like a battlemeuted cloud Towers o'er the solemn deep. "But .still alonrf the dim Atlantic's line The only hostile smoke Creeps like a harmless mi.st above the brine From .some frail floating oak. "And still through .streets re-echoing irith trade IVall: grave and thought Jul men Whose hands mag one dag ivield the patriot's blade As lightly as the pen. "And maiden.s, with such eyes as would groic dim Over a wounded hound Seem^ each one to have caught the strength of him Whose sword-knot she hath bound. "Thus, girt without ami garrisoned at home. Day patient jollowing day. Old Charleston looks jrom rooj and spire and dome Acro.ss her tranquil bay. "Shall the spring dawn, and she. still clad in steel, And ivith an unscathed brow. Watch o'er a sea unvexed by hostile keel As fair and free as now? 72 AILSA PAIGE "We hioiv not. In the Temples of the Fates God has inscribed her doom; And, all untroubled in her faith she waits Her triumph or her tomb!"' The hushed ch.-uMn of their ...other's voice fascinated he children. Troubled, t.ncertain, Ailsa rose, took a few irresolute steps toward the extension where her brother-in-law still paced to an'«» J'^^^'^. f^^ AILS A PAIGE lowing this new incarimtion wt-ariiig the faniihar shape of Celia Craig. " Ailsa ! " •• Ve.s. dear," '■ (an you think evil of a people who po' out their hearts in prayer and praise? Do traitors importune fo' hlessin<»s.' " She turned nervously to the piano and struck a ringing chord, another — and dropped to the cliaii, head iiowed on her slim c-hildish neck. Presently thiri' stole through the silence a tremulous voice intoning the " Lihera Nos," with its strange refrain : "J furore Sormunorum Libera non, () Doinine!"' Then, head raised, the gas-light flashing on her dull- gold hair, her voice poured forth all that was swelling and swelling up in her bruised and stifled heart: "God of our fathrr.s! King of Kings! Lord of the earth and wa! li'ith hcart.s repentant and .sincere We tarn in need to thee." She saw neithei- her children nor her husband nor Ailsa now. where they gathered silently beside her. And she sang on : ^t^ 'In the name of God! Amen! Stand for onr Southern rights; On our tiide. Southern men. The God of Battle.^ fight.s! Fling the invader far — Hurl bach hi.t work of woe — 74 ' 1 T^Ktif .. fl*~'-. ::;JIl; JILS.t PAIGE J /is roicr i.s- t/ir ruler of a hrolhrr, iSiil /li.s- lianils an thr hniuls „j „ j,>r. liif Ihr hinij irlnri, rrlrs In J/,, inn Cniii.siin upon our sotl Shitid. S„iit/ir„ns. fi(f/,t and cun„. A.lsa. h...side her, stooped and passed one ann aroniid her. '•\ou— are not crvin^^ are you, (Vlia, darHn^jr " she whispered. Her sister-in-law, hishes wet, rose with derision. "I think that r have made a ^ro„s,. of ,„yM.*f to- night. Marye, will you say to your failu'r tl.at if i. after eleven o'clock, and that I an. waiting to he well sc 'Ided and sent to bed.' " '• Father went out a iv\y moments ago," said Paige in an awed voice. " I hoard him unholt the front door." Ailsa turned and walked swiftly out into t!;e h.dl- way: the front door swung wide; Mr. ("raig stood on the steps wearing his hat. He looked around as .^iie touched his arm. " Oh, is it you, Ailsa. ^ " There was a momenfs in- decision. Through it, once more, far away in the city The Voices became audi!)le again, distant, vague, in- cessant. " I thought— if it is actually an extra—" he began carelessly and hesitated : and she said : AILS A PAIGE " Let me go with you. Wait. I'll speak to Celia." " Say to her that I'll be gone only a moment." When Ailsu returned she slipped her arm through his and they descended the steps and walked toward Fulton Avenue. The Voices were still distant ; a few people, passing swiftly through the dusk, preceded them. Far down the vista of the lighted avenue dark figures crossed and rccrosscd the street, silhouetted against the gas-lights; some were running. A man cjrlled out something as they passed him. Suddenly, right ahead in the darkness, they encountered people gathered before the boarded fence of a vacant lot, a silent crowd shouldering, pushing, surging back and forth, swarming far out along the dimly lighted avenue. " There's a bulletin posted there," whispered Ailsa. " Could you lift me in your arms.'' " Her brother-in-law stooped, clasped her k ices, and lifted her high up above the sea of heads. Kerosene torches flickered beyond, flanking a poster on wliich was printed in big black letters : " Washington, April 12, 1861, 6 a.m. " At half-past four o'clock this morning fire was opened on Fort Sumter by the rebel batteries in the harbour. Major Anderson is replying with his bar- bette guns." " 8 A.M. " A private despatch to the N. Y. Herald says that the batteries on Mount Pleasant have opened on Sum- ter. Major Anderson has brought into action two tiers of guns trained on Fort Moultrie and the Iron Battery." 76 m^ ■_.^L^^''^N|Ke.r*!L. i* 1 '^^ IILSA PAIGE "3 P.M. '• The fire at this liour is very heavy. Nineteen bat- teries ure bombarding Sumter. The fort rephes briskly. The excitement in Charleston is intense." " Later. " Heavy rain storm. Firing resumed this evening. The mortar batteries throw a shell into the fort every twenty minutes. The fort replies at intervals." " Latest. " The fort is still replying. Major Anderson has signalled the fleet outside." All this she read aloud, one hand resting on Craig's shoulder as he held her aloft above the throng. Men crowding around and striving to see, paused, with up- turned faces, listening to the emotionless young voice. There was no shouting, no sound save the trample and shuffle of feet; scarcely a voice raised, scarcely an exclamation. As Craig lowered her to the pavement, a man making his way out said to them : " Well, I guess that ends it." Somebody replied quietly : " I guess that begins it." Farther down the avenue toward the City Hall where the new marble court house was being built, a red glare quivered incessantly against the darkness; distant hoarse rumours penetrated the night air, ac- cented every moment by the sharper clamour of voices calling the Herald's extras. 77 AILS A PAIGE ' ' 1 i ,'i i "Curt?" '• Vfs, dear." " If la' Mirrendors- *• It iiiukos no difForence what he does now, child." " I know it. . . . They've dishonoured the flag, Thi.-) is war, i.su't it.'' " •• Ve.>." "Will it he a long war? " '• I think not." "Who will go?" " I don't know. . . , Soldiers." •• I didn't suppose wc had enough. Where are we going to get more?" *' The people — " he said absently — " everybody, I suppose. How do I know, child? " "Just ordinary people?" " Just ordinary people," he responded quietly. A iaw minutes later as they entered their own street he said : '• I suppose I had better tell my wife about this to-night. I don't know — it will be in the morning papers ; but I think I had better break it to her to- night." '* She will have to know — sometime — of course " Halting at the foot of the stoop he turned and peered through his glasses at his sister-in-law. " I don't want Stephen to start any nonsense about going." " Going where? " she asked innocently. He hesitated : " I dcn't want to hear any talk from 78 jL#.^jrnwbit I'l- AILSA PAIGE liin. .ilmut enlisting. Tlmt is wlmt I mean, ^•o^u• in- flut-nce counts with liiiii more dcopiv than v..u know. Rt'nicrnlur tliat." '* Sttvi — inlist! " she ropoatcd blankly. Shf could not yet comprehend what all this had to do with people she j rsonally knew— with her own kin. " He must not enlist, of course," she said curtly. '• There arc plenty of soldiers— there will he plenty, of course. I " Something silenced her, something within her sealed her lips. She stood in silence while Craig fitted his night-key, then entered th. house with him. Gas hurned low in the hall globes; when he turned it off a fainter light from above guided them. " C'elia, is that you.^ " she called gently. "Hush: go to bed, Honey-bell. Kverybody is asleep. How pale you are. Curt— dearest— dear- est *" The rear room was Ailsa's : she walked into it and dropped down on the bed in the darkness. The door between the rooms closed; she sat perfectly still, her eyes were wide open, staring in front of her. Queer little luminous shapes danced through obscur- ity like the flames from the kerosene torches around the bulletin; her ears st'll vibrated with the hoarse alarm of the voices; through her brain sounded her brother-in-law's words about Steve, repeated incessant- ly, stupidly. Presently she began to undress by sense of touch. The gas in the bathroom was lighted; she completed 79 -.*ss..^>A ••:: -1-^- AILS A PAIGE f W r>^ r ^ hiT ahlutioris, turned it off, uiul felt her wav Imck to tlio bed. Lvin^ there she heoiiriie jiware of soiuids from tlic front room, ("ehfi was still awake; she distinguished her voice in (juiek, frightened exclamation: then the low murmur continued for a while, then silence fill. She raised herself on one elbow; the crack of light under the door was gone; there was no sound, no move- ment in the house except tlie measured tick of the liall clock outside, tic-toe! — tic-toe! — tic-toe! And she had been Iving there a long, long while, eves open, before she realised that the rhythm of the hall clock was l)ut a repetition of a name which did not concern lier in an}' manner: " Berk-ley !— Berk-ley !— Berk-ley ! " How it had crept into her consciousness she could not understand ; she lay still, listening, but the tic-toe seemed to fit the syllables of his name; and when, an- noyed, she made a half disdainful mental attempt to substitute other syllables, it proved too nuich of an effort, and back into its sober, swinging rhythm slipDed the old clock's tic-toe, in wearisome, meaningless repe- tition : " Berk-lev !— Berk-lev !— Berk-lev ! " U ^ She was awakened by a rapping at her door and her cousin's imperative voice : " I want to talk to you; arc you in bed? " She drew the coverlet to her chin and called out : " Come in, Steve ! " 80 "/:' m^mm^''^ ' « m'm^z AILS A PAIGE Ho came, tremendously excited, clutching the Her- ald in one hand. " I've had enough of this rebel newspaper! " he said fiercely. "I don't want it in 'he house again, ever. Father says that the marine ne..» makes it worth tak- ing, hut " *• What on earth are you trying to say, Steve? " "I'm trying to tell you that we're at war! War, Ailsa! Do you understand.'' Father and I've had a fight already " " What 't " " They're still firing on Sumter, I tell you, anrl if the fort doesn't hold out do you think I'm going to sit around the house like a pussy cat.'' Do you think I'm going to business every day as though nothing was happening to the country I'm living in.'' I tell vou now — you and mother and father — that I'm not built that way " Ailsa rose in bed, snatched the paper from hi.s grasp, and leaning on one arm gazed down at the flar- ing head-lines : THE W^\R BEGUN Very Exciting News from Charleston Bombardment of Fort Sumter Conunenccd Terrible Fire from the Secessionists' Batteries Brilliant Defence of Maj. x\ndcrson Reckless Bravery of the Confederate States Troops. And, scanning it to the end, cried out: 81 ^mmW^ ' '.f^f^ , '^'SMWFTmmemF^m.'m^xs^ ■^^ AILSA PAIGE I * " Ilf hasfri Mimlc'd down his Ha^ ! Wlint are vou so excited about? " "I Tin excited, of eourse! He eati't po.ssil)lv liold out with ordv eighty men and nothinjr to feed them on. Something's got to he done!" he added, walking up and down the room. " Tve made fun of tlie mihtia— hke everybody else— but Jinmiy Lent is getting ready, and I'm doing nothing! Do you hear what I'm saying, Ailsa?" Slie looked up from tjie newspaper, sitting there cross-legged under the coverlet. " I hear you, Steve. I don't know what you mean by ' something's got to be done.' Major Anderson is doing what he can^ — bless him ! " *' That's all right, but the thing isn't going to stop there." "Stop where .>" " At Sumter. They'll begin firing on Fortress Monroe and Pensacola — I — how do you know they're not already thinking ibout bombanling Washington.^ Virginia is going out of the Union; the entire South is out, or going. Yesteruay, I didn't suppose there was any use in trying to ge them back again. Father did. but I didn't. I think it's got to be done, now. And the question is, Ailsa, whose going to do it.^* " But she was fiercely absorbed afj.'iin in the news, leaning dose over the paper, tumbled dull-gold hair falling around her bare shoulders, breath coming faster and more irregularly as she read the incredible story and strove to comprehend its cataclysmic significance. 82 AILSA PAlCiE " If otlKi> arc going, I am." r.p.attMl lur t()u>iti sullmlv. *• (Joing wlure, Sh>vi'?-()li " SIk , d.-ar a.s a/urc, .stt-ady N) pnnislimcnt given or taken— good eyes for a b.y to iidierit. And he inherited them from his rebel mother. •• Father can't keep me home if other people go," he said. " Wait until other people go." She reached o„t uiul hiid a hand on his arm. "Things arc happening too fast, Steve, too fast for everybody to quite understand just yet. Every- body will do what is the thing to do; the family \vill d() what it ought to. . . . Has your mother' seen this.»" " Ves. Neither she nor father have dared speak about it before us—" He made a gesture of quick de- spair, walked to the window and back. " It's a terrible thing, Ailsa, to have mother feel as she does." " How could she feel otherwise.' " " I've done my best to explain to her " "O Steve! Fou.'— when it's a matter between her soul and God ! " He said, reddening: "It's a matter of common- sense— I don't mean to insult mother— but— ^ood Lord, a nation is a nation, but a state is only a state ! 83 ■Wl^' TW»V ^'m« AILSA PAIGE W * I — hang it all — what's the use of trying to explain what is born one " " The contrary was born in your mother, Steve. Don't ever talk to her this way. And — go out, please, I wish to dress." He went away, saying over his shoulders : " I only wanted to tell you that I'n» not inclined to sit sucking my thumb if other men go, and you can say so to father, who has forbidden me to mention the subject to him again until I have his permission." But he went away to business that morning with his father, as usual; and when evening came the two men returned, anxious, dead tired, having passed most of the d ly standing in the dense throngs that choked every street around the bulletin boards of the newspaper offices. Ailsa had not been out during the day, nor had Mrs. Craig, except for an hour's drive in the family coupe around the district where preliminary surveys for the new Prospect Park were being pusher^.. They had driven for almost an hour in utter silence. Her sister-in-law's hand lay clasped in hers, but both looked from the carriage windows without speaking, and the return from the dri-^e found them strangely weary and inclined for the quiet of their own rooms. But Celia Craig could not close her eyes even to feign sleep to herself. When husband and son returned at evening, she asked nothing of the news from them, but her upturned face lingered a second or two longer as her husband 84 "^ - '^m^m'^r^m^^mm. AILSA PAIGE kissed her, and she clung a little to Stephen, who was inclined to be brief with her. Dinner was a miserable failure in that family, which usually had much to compare, much to impart, much badinage and laughter to distribute. But the men were weary and uncommunicative; Estcourt Craig went to his club after dinner; Stephen, now posse«smg a latch-key, disappeared shortly afterward. Paige and Marye did embroidery and gossipped to- gether under the big crystal chandelier while their mother read aloud to them from " Great Expectations," which was running serially in Harper's Weekly. Later she read in her prayer-book; later still, fully dressed, she lay across the bed in the alcove staring at the dark- ness and listening for the sound of her husband's latch- key in the front door. When it sounded, she sprang up and hastily dried her eyes. " The children and Ailsa are all abed, Curt. How late you are! It was not very wise of you to go out- being so tired—" She was hovering near him as though to help his weariness with her small offices ; she took his hat, stood looking at him, then stepped nearer, laying both hands on his shoulders, and her face against his. "I am— already tired of the— war," she sighed. " Is it ended yet. Curt ? " " There is no more news from Sumter." "You will— love me— best— anyway, Curt— won't you ? " 85 AILSA PAIGE ; 1 m I "Do you doubt it?" She only drew a deep, frightened breath. For within her heart slie felt the weight of the new appre- hension— the clairvoyant premonition of a rival that she must prepare to encounter — a rival that menaced her peace of mind — a shape, shadowy as yet, but ter- rible, slowly becoming frightfully defined — u Thing that might one day wean this man from her — husband, and son, too — both perhaps " " Curt," she faltered, " it will all come right in the end. Say it. I am afraid." " It will come out all right," he said gently. They kissed, and she turned to the mirror and silently began preparing for the night. With the calm notes of church bells floating out across the city, and an April breeze blowing her lace curtains, Ailsa awoke. Overhead she heard the tram- ple of Stephen's feet as he moved leisurely about his bedroom. Outside her windows in the backyard, early sunshine slanted across shrub and grass and white- washed fence ; the Sunday quiet was absolute, save for the church bells. She lay there listening and thinking; the church bells ceased; and after a while, lying there, she began to realise that the silence was unnatural — became con- scious of something ominous in the intense quiet out- side— a far-spread stillness which was more than the hush of Sabbath. Whether or not the household was still abed she 86 •r'Orr m^Hi 'iTIlP'^ ^^ ■'iss«rY?»~-^:'S5fiP3r'^aTE AILS A PAIGE did not know ; no sound came from Celia's room ; nor were Maryc and Paige stirring on the floor above wlien she rose and stole out barefooted to tlie landinir, holding a thin silk chamber robe around her. She paused, listening ; the tic-toe of the hall clock accented the silence ; the door that led from Celia's cham- ber into the hall stood wide open, and there was no- body in sight. Something drew her to the alcove win- dow, which was raised ; through the lace curtains she s{» the staff of the family flag set in its iron socket at right angles to the facade — saw the silken folds stir- ring lazily in the sunshine, tiptoed to the window and peered out. As far tis her eyes could see, east and west, the street was one rustling mass of flags. For a second her heart almost hurt her with its thrilling leap ; she caught her breath ; the hard tension in her throat was choking her ; she dropped to her knees by the sill, drew a corner of the flag to her, and laid her cheek against it. Her eyes unclosed and she gazed out upon the world of flags ; then, upright, she opened her fingers, and the crinkled edges of the flag, released, floated leisurely out once more into the April sunshine. When she had dressed she found the family in the dining-room — her sister-in-law, serene but pale, seated behind the coffee urn, Mr. Craig and Stephen reading the Sunday newspapers, Paige and Marye whispering together over their oatmeal and cream. She kissed Celia, dropped the old-fashioned, half- 7 87 W^ AILSA PAIGE forgotten curtsey to the others, and stood hesitating a moment, one hand resting on Celia's shoulder. " Is the fort holding out? " she asked. Stephen looked up angrily, made as though to speak, but a deep flush settled to the roots of his hair and he remained silent. " Fort Sumter has surrendered," said her brother- m-law quietly. Celia whispered: " Take your seat now. Honey-bell; your breakfast is getting cold." At church that Sunday the Northern clergy prayed m a dazed sort of way for the Union and for the Presi- dent; . >e addressed the Most High as " The God of Battles. The sun shone brightly; new leaves were starthng on every tree in every Northern city ; acres of starry banners drooped above thousands of departing congregations, and formed whispering canopies over- head. Vespers were solemn ; April dusk fell over a million roofs and spires; twinkling gas jets were lighted in street lamps; city, town, and hamlet drew their curtains and Dowed their heads in darkness. A dreadful silence fell over the North-a 7. ess that breeds epochs and the makers of them. But the first gray pallor of the dawn awoke a na- tion for the first time certain of its entity, roaring its comprehension of it from the Lakes to 'the Potomac, from sea to sea; and the red sun rose over twenty 88 ^ fMtfr*^^^- AILSA PAIGE States in solid battle line thundering their loyalty to a Union undivided. And on that day rang out the first loud call to arms; and the first battalion of the Northland, seventy- five thousand strong, formed ranks, cheering their in- sulted flag. Then, southward, another f].ig shot up above the horizon. The world already knew it as The Stars and Bars. And, beside it, from its pointed lance, whipped and snapped and fretted another flag— square, red, crossed by a blue saltier edged with white on which glittered thirteen stars. It was the battle flag of the Confederacy flashing the answer to the Northern cheer. 'i% n*jf' CHAPTER V "BUEGESS!" " Sir? " Berkley sat up in bed and viewed his environment with disgust. "These new lodgings would make a fair kennel, wouldn't they, Burgess?— if a man isn't too particular about his dog." The servant entered with a nasty smirk. " Yes, sir; I seen a rat last night." " He's not the only one, is he. Burgess," yawned Berkley. " Oh, hell ! I've got to dress. Did you paint that bathtub.? I -uess you did, the place reeks like a paint shop. Anyway, it kills less desirable aromas. Where's the water.? " He swung his symmetrical body to the bed's edge, dropped lightly to the caipe*, unloosed his night robe, and stretched himself. " Was I very drunk, Burgess? " " No, sir; you just went to sleep. You haven't got no headache, have you ? " " No — but it was only corn whisky. I didn't re- member what I did with it. Is there any left ? " " Not much, sir." The servant, ugly to the verge of deformity, and 90 AILS A PAIGE wearing invariably the abominable smirk that dis- gusted others but amused Ikrkley, went about his duties. Berkley blinked at him reflectively, then bathed, dressed, and sat down to a bowl of chocolate and a bit of bread. " What the devil was all that row this morning. Burgess? " " War, sir. The President has called for seventy- five thousand men. Here it is, sir." And he laid a morning paper beside the cup of chocolate, which Berk- ley studied between sips, commenting occasionally aloud : " Heavens, Burgess, why, we're a race of patriots ! Now who on earth could have suspected that. . . . Why, we seem to be heroes, too ! What do you think of that. Burgess.^ You're a hero; I'm a hero; every- body north of Charleston is an embattled citizen or a hero! Isn't it funny that nobody realised all this be- fore?" . . . He turned the paper leisurely sippit r his chocolate. ..." 0/ course — the ' dear old flag ' ! That's the cheese, isn't it. Burgess? Been insulted, hasn't it? And we're all going to Charleston to punch that wicked Beauregard in the nose. . . . Burgess, you and I are neglecting our duty as heroes ; there's much shouting to be done yet, much yelling in the streets, much arguing to be done, many, many cocktails to be firmly and uncompromisingly swallowed. Are you pre- pared to face the serious consequences of being a hero?" 91 ■JUrf.l wtr - 1 ' AILSA PAIGE " Yes, sir," said Burgess. "You merit well of the republic! The country needs >'ou. Here's half a dollar. Do your duty un- flinchingly—at the nearest bar ! " Burgess took the coin with a smirk. " Mr. Berkley, the landlady sent word that times is hard." "Bless her soul! They ar^ hard, Burgess. Inform her of my sentiments,'" aid Berkley cordially. " Now, my hat and cane, if you please. We're a wonderful people, Burgess; we'll beat our walking-sticks into bayonets if Mr. Beauregard insists on saying boo to us too many times in succession. . . . And, Burgess' " " Sir.? " " Now that you have waked up this morning to find yourself a hero, I think you'd better find yourself an- other and more spectacular master. My heroism, for the future, is to be more or less inconspicuous; in fact, I begin the campaign by inserting my own studs and eleanmg my -wn clothes, and keeping out of gaol; and the soonei I go where that kind of glory calls me the sooner my name will be emblazoned in the bright lexicon of youth where there's no such word as ' jail ' " " Sir.? " " In simpler and more archaic phrase, I can't af- ford you, Burgess, unless I pilfer for a living." " I don't eat much, sir." " No, you don't eat much." " I could quit drinking, sir." " That is really touching. Burgess. This alcohol 92 ■^ilf' AILSA PAIGE pickled integument of yours covers a trusting heart. But it won't do. Heroics in a hall bedroom cut no coupons, my poor friend. Our paths to glory and the grave part just outside the door-sill yonder." " She said I could stay, sir.'' " Which she? " " The landlady. I'm to fetch coal and run errants and wait on table. But you'll get the best cuts, sir. And after hours I can see to your clothes and linen and boots and hats, and do your errants same like the usual." " Now this is nearly as pathetic as our best fiction," said Berkley ; " ruined master, faithful man — wont leave — starves slowly at his master's feet — tootle music very sneaky — transformation ! Burgess in heaven, blinking, puzzled, stretching one wing, reflectively scratching his halo with right hind foot. Angel chorus. Burgess appears to enjoy it and lights one of my best cigars " " Sir.'' " said Burgess, very red. Berkley swung around, levelled his walking-stick, and indicated the pit of his servant's stomac'a: " Your face is talking now : wait till that begins to yell. It will take more than I'm earning to fill it," He stood a moment, smiling, curious. Then : " You've been as faithless a valet as any servant who ever watered wine, lost a gimcrack, or hooked a weed. Studs, neckcloths, bootjacks, silk socks, pins, underwear — all magically and eventually faded from my wardrobe, wafted to thoce silent bournes of swag 93 A'j-'^trT'ivjmjii AILSA PAIGE j:;^||.|Bgl •J I that vulcts wot of. Wlmf in l.-.ii i t_ , '• *^ ""* "• ''^'" ''" you want to stuv here for now, jou amusing wastrel? " " Ves, sir. I'd prefer to .sta;^- with you " nn ,7"V''"'''" ''' "" "'"'"'^ ^''"••^'"'t P'-'^'ng'*. mv poor and fait less .stow.irJ ' if i .. » » «"> poor .stcHanJ. If vou .should convert anvtliinif "V^'S sir," muttered Burgess; "I brought back I did-" X ■ ■ ; ■'' '"' ' ^*^*^''*^'' '^'" back, t/«c Miiirk for an instant;— "I „uoss ,nv „ n Avenue ,«.|l he ,„eet,-eve„ ,7 ,,e ain't et no dev 1 Dack at Uelnionico's. Xo, sir " unti^w''^T* ''"" -"'""''"''» «tee -n.) I«ugl,e.l unl.l ho coul, shouting endk-ss extras; people were gathering on corners, in squares, alcmg park railings, under porticos of hotels, an.l every one of them had a newspaper and was reading. In front of the St. \ich«,his Hotel a lank and shab- by man had mounted a cracker box, and was evidently making a .speech, but Berkley could distinguish nothing he said because of the wild cheering. Everywhere, threading the throng, hurried boys and men selling miniature flags, red-white-and-blue rosettes, and tricoloured cockades ; and everybody was purchas- ing the national colours— the passing crowd had al- ready become bright with badges; the Union colours floated in streamers from the throats or sleeves of pret- ^y g"Js glinted in the lapels of dignified okl gentlemen, deccrat. ouhMI,e.V,. ,,e .,elig,..ed to av«i, the,.,.elve o /u A quick laugh broke out from those around, but tiKTo ua. an undertone of n.onace in it, becau.se the u„- decorated gentlemen in front of the New York Hotel wore probably Southerners, and Secessionists in prin- nples; that hostelry being the ren.lezvous in New York of evervthmg Southern. So, hHving bestowed his mischievous advice, Berk- ey .trolled on down Broadway, his destination being he offices of (>aig and Son, City and Country Real I^^tate, where he had a desk to himself, a client or two •n prospect, and considerable leisure to study the street /r«S and sewer maps of New York City to ^^^ *!"' ^'^*''«^*'°"' ^- ^-^ always at liberty loo /:: *'""f ' '^''' '"^ P-^'^' ^--' blink, ani look out of the window at the City Park across the way -here excted citizens maintained a steady yelling mono tone before the neighbouring newspaper offices all dTy Ho was also free to reflect upon his own personal lortconungs, a speculation perhaps less damaging ban the recent one he J.d indulged in; and he though! about ,t sometmies; and sometimes about Ailsa Pa.V 96 AILSJ PAIGE whom he tiiul not again seen since the unuccoun table nm(Inc8« hnd driven him to triuiiplo and destrov the first real inclination hv had over had for a woman. This inclination he occasionally foiunl leisure to analyse, hut, not understan|,i„e. However, the prospect of u .s.nall ro,n,nis.si„n fro,,, ( nn^ k Son buoyed up his nutu,-al chicrfuh,. ss \|| the way .lowntown he flourishnl his cane; he hum.ncd I'vely tune., in his office as he studied his ,„aps an.l carefully read the real estate reports in the mit^- AILSA PAIGE There came a brutal rush from behind; ho braced his back to it ; she set one foot on the hub, the other on the tire, stepped to his shruul.r, s«unrr herself ah.ft, and crept up over the rooi of fhc stau. Here he joined her, offering an arm , seady he, as the stage 'shook under the impact of the reeling masses below. " How did you get into this mob? " he asked. " I was caught," she sai.l calmly, steadying herself by the arm he offered and glancing down at the peril below. " Celia and I were shopping in Grand Street at Lord and Taylor's, and I thought I'd step out of the shop for a moment to see if the 7th was com- i>ig, and I ventured too far-I sia.ply could not get back. . . . And— thank you for helping me." She had entirely recovered her serenity; she released his arm and now stood cautiously balanced behind the driver's empty seat, looking curiously out over the turbulent sea of people, where already hundreds of newsboys were racmg hither and thither shouting an afternoon extra, which seemed to excite everybody within hearing to frenzy. " Can you Jiear what they are shouting.? " she in- quired. " It seems to make people very angry." "They say that the 6th Massachusetts, which passed through here yesterday, was attacked by a mob in Baltimore." "Oar soldiers!" she said, incredulous. Then clenching ner small hands: " If I were Colonel Leffert. of the 7th I'd march my men through Baltimore to-morrow ! " 113 AILSA PAIGE \i ?f " I believe they expect to go through," he said, amused. " That is what they are for." The rising uproar around was affecting her; the vivid colour in her lips and cheeks deepened. Berkley looked at her, at the cockade with its fluttering red- white-and-blue ribbons on her breast, at the clear, fear- less^eyes now brilliant with excitement and indignation. "Have you thought of enlisting?" she. asked abruptly, without glancing at him. " Yes," he said, " I've ventured that far. It's per- fectly safe to think about it. Vou have no idea, Mrs. Paige, what warlike sentiments I cautiously entertain in my office chair." She turned nervously, with a sunny glint of gold hair and fluttering ribbons : "Are you never perfectly serious, Mr. Berkley.? Even at such a moment as this.? " " Always," he insisted. " I was only philosophising upon these scenes of inexpensive patriotism which fill even the most urbane and peaceful among us full of truculence. ... I recently saw my tailor wearing a sword, attired in the made-to-measure panoply of battle." *^ " Did that strike you as humorous? " " No, indeed : it fitted ; I am only afraid ho may find a soldier's grave before I can settle our sartorial ac- counts." There was a levity to his pleasantries which sounded discordant to her amid the solemnly thrilling circum- stances impending. For the flower of the city's 114 ■♦■«r Bfrt*: Tdni AILSA PAIGE soldiery was going forth to buttle — a thousand gav, thoughtless young fellows sunnnoned from ledger, office, and counting-house; and all about her a million of their neighbours had gathered to see them go. " Applause makes patriots. Why should I enlist when merely by cheering others I can stand here and create heroes in battalions ? " " I think," she said, " that there was once another scoffer who remained to pray." As he did not answer, she sent a swift side glance at him, found him tranquilly surveying the crowd below where, at the corner of Canal and Broadway, half a dozen Zouaves, clothed in their characteristic and bril- liant uniforms and wearing hairy knapsacks trussed up behind, were being vociferously acclaimed by the people as they passed, bayonets fixed. " More heroes," he observed, " made immortal while you wait." And now Ailsa became aware of a steady, sustained sound audible above the tumult around them ; a sound like surf washing on a distant reef. " Do you hear that.^ It's like the roar of the sea," she said. " I believe they're coming ; I think I caught a strain of military music a moment ago ! " They rose on tiptoe, straining their ears : even the skylarking gamins who had occupied the stage top be- hind them, and the driver, who had reappeared, drunk, and resumed his reins and seat, stood up to listen. Above the noise of the cheering, rolling steadily toward them over the human ocean, came the deadened 115 f AILSA PAIGE 'II throbbing of drums. A far, thin strain of military mus.c rose, was lost, rose again; the double thudd-ng of the drums sounded nearer; the tempest of cheers be- came terrific. Through it, at intervals, they could catch the clear marching music of the 7th as two platoons of police, sixty strong, arrived, forcing their way mto view, followed by a full companv of Zouaves. Then pandemonium broke loose as the matchless regiment swung into sight. The polished instruments of the musicians flashed in the sun; over the slanting drums the drumsticks rose and fell, but in the thun- dering cheers not a sound could be heard from bra.s or parchment. Field and stafF passed headed by the colonel; behind jolted two howitzers; behind them glittered the sabre- bayonets of the engineers; then, filling the roadway from sidewalk to sidewalk the perfect ranks of the in- fantry swept by under burnished bayonets. They wore their familiar gray and black uniforms, forage caps, and blue overcoats, and carried knapsacks with heavy blankets rolled on top. And New York went mad. What the Household troops are to England the Ju ; XX *"" .'^™'"'^' ^" '^' ^^"'^^ •* ^^^"^« the best that New York has to offer. The polished metal gor- gets of Its officers reflect a past unstained; its pedi- gree stretches to the cannon smoke fringing the Revo- lution. To America the 7th was always The Guard; and 116 AILSA PAIGE now, in the lurid obscurity of national disaster, where all things traditional were crashing down, where doubt, distrust, the agony of indecision turned gov- ernment to ridicule and law to anarchy, tliere was no doubt, no indecision in The Guard. Above the terrible clamour of political confusion rolled the drums of the 7th steadily beating the assembly; out of the dust of catastrophe emerged its disciplined gray columns. Doubters no lon^L'r doubted, uncertainty became con- viction ; in a situation without a precedent, the prece- dent was established; the corps d'cUte of all state soldiery was answering the national summons ; and once more the associated states of North America under- stood that they were first of all a nation indivisible. Down from window and balcony and roof, sifting among the bayonets, fluttered an unbroken shower of tokens — gloves, flowers, handkerchiefs, tricoloured bunches of ribbon; and here and tiicre a bracelet or some gem-set chain fell flashing through the sun. Ailsa Craig, like thousands of her sisters, tore the red-white-and-blue rosette from her breast and flung it down among the bayonets with a tremulous little cheer. Everywhere the crowd was breaking into the street ; citizens marched with their hands on the shoulders of the soldiers ; old gentlemen toddled along beside strap- ping sons ; brothers passed arms around brothers ; here and there a mother hung to the chevroned sleeve of son or husband who was striving to see ahead through blur- ring eyes ; here and there some fair young girl, badgcd with the national colours, stretched out her arms from 117 i£Ji^!; ^1 tf" - AILSA PAIGE the crowd and laid her hands to the hps of her passing, lover. * The lust shining files of bayonets had passed; the city swarmed like an ant-hill. Berkley's voice was in her ears, cool, good- humoured : " Perhaps we had better try to find Mrs. Craig. I saw Stephen in the crowd, and he saw us, so I do not think your sister-in law will be worried." She nodded, suffered him to aid her in the descent to the sidewalk, then drew a deep, unsteadv breath and pnzed around as though awaking from a dream. "It certainly was an impressive sight," he said. "The Government may thank me for a number of heroes. I'm really quite hoarse." She made no comment. " Even a thousand well-fed brokers in uniform are bound to be impressive," he meditated aloud. Her face flushed; she walked on ignoring his flip- pancy, ignoring everything concerning him until, cross- ing the street, she became aware that he wore no hat. " Did you lose it.? " she asked curtly. "I don't know what happened to that hysterical hat, Mrs. Paige. Probably it went war mad and fol- lowed the soldiers to the ferry. You can never count on hats. They're flighty." •' You will have to buy another," she . aid, smiling. " Oh, no," he said carelessly, " what is the use. It will only follow the next regiment out of town. Shall we cross ? " 118 :.? '-!^^ -•# AILSA PAIGE " Mr. Berkley, do you propose to go about town with me, hatless?" " You have an exceedingly beautiful one. Nobody will look at me." " Please be sensible ! " " I am. I'll take you to Lord and Taylor's, deliver you to your sister-in-law, and then slink home " '* But I don't wish to go there with a hatless man ! I can't understand " " Well, I'll have to tell you if you drive me to it," he said, looking at her very calmly, but a flush mounted to his cheek-bones ; " I have no money — with me. »» " Why didn't you say so.'' How absurd not to bor- row it from me " Something in his face checked her; then he laughed. " There's no reason why you shouldn't know how poor I am," he said. " It doesn't worry me, so it cer- tainly will not worry you. I can't afford i hat for a few days — and I'll leave you here if you wish. Why do you look so shocked? Oh, well — then we'll stop at Genin's. They know me there." They stopped at Genin's and he bought a hat and charged it, giving his addresses in a low voice ; but she heard it. "Is it becoming.'*" he asked airily, examining the e^ect in a glass. " Am I the bully bo; with the eye of glass, Mrs. Paige.'' " " You are, indeed," she said, laughing. " Shall we find Celia.? " 9 119 AILSA PAIGE i i ■ 1^ H But they could not find her sister-in-law in the shop, which was now refilling with excited people. "Celia non est^ ho observed cheerfully. "The office is closed by this time. May I see you safely to Urooklyn?" She turned to Ihe ferry stage which was now draw- ing up at the curb; he assisted her to mount, then en- tered fcimself, humming under his breatii : " To Brooklyn ! To Drookbjn ! So be it. Amen. Clippity, CloppUy, back again J " On the stony way to the ferry he chatted cheer- fully, irresponsibly, but he soon became convinced that the girl beside him was not listening, so he talked at random to amuse himself, amiably accepting her pre- occupation. "How those broker warriors did step out, in spite of Illinois Central and a sadly sagging list! At the morning board Pacific Mail fell 31/., New York Cen- trall/, Hudson River 14, Harlem preferred 1/., Illinois Central .4. . . . j .j^n't care. . . . You wo'n't care, but tlie last quotations were Tennessee 6's, 41, A 411/, ■ . . There's absolutely nothing doing in money o'r exchange. The bankers are asking 107 a 1/., but sell nothing. On call you can borrow money at" four and five per cent-" he glanced sideways at her, ironically, satisfied that she paid no hood-" you might, but / can t, Ailsa. I can't borrow anything from anybody at any per cent whatever. I know; I've tn>d.' Mean- 120 AILSA PAIGE while, few and tottering are my stocks, ulso they lon- tinue downward on their liellwurd way. " Mary inn wiped out in war. Profits are .scattered for, 77/ to the nearvKt hur, .til -hi uroonl" he hummed to himself, walking-stick under his chin, his new hat not ahsolutely straiglit on his weil-shaj)i'd head. A ferry-boat lay in the slip; they walked for- M*ard and stood in the crowd by the bow chains. The flag flew over Castle William; late sunshine turned river and bay to a harbour in fairyland, where, through the golden haze, far away between forests of pennant- dressed masts, a warship lay all aglitter, the sun strik- ing fire from her guns and bright work, and setting every red bar of her flag ablaze. " The Pocahontas, sloop of war from Charleston bar," said a man in the crowd. " She came in this morning at high water. She got to Sumter too late." " Yes. Powhatan had already knocked the he;ul off John Smith," observed Berkley thoughtfully. " They did these things better in colonial days." Several people began to discuss the inaction of the fleet ofl^ Charleston bar during the bombardment ; the navy was freely denounced and defended, and Berkley, pleased that he had started a row, listened complacent- ly, inserting a word here and there calculated to incite several prominent citizens to fisticuflFs. And the ferry- boat started with everybody getting madder. 1«1 i ujl i^* ii AILS A PAIGE But r.li"n fisticuffs appeared imminent in niid- ."treum, out of somewhat tardy consideration for Ailsa lie set free the dove of peace. " Perhaps," he remarked pleasantly, " the fleet couldn't cross the har. I've heard of such things." And as nohody had thought of that, hostilities were averted. Paddle-wheels churning, the rotund hoat swung into the Brooklyn dock. Her gunwales rubbed and squeaked along the straining piles green with sea slime; deck chains clinked, cog-wheels clattered, the stifling smell of dock water gave place to the fresher odour of the streets. " I would like t') valk uptown," said Ailsa Paige. "I really don't care to sit still in a car for two miles. You need not come any farther— unless you care to." He said airily : " A country ramble with a pretty girl is always agreeable to me. I'll come if you'll let me." She looked up at him, perplexed, undecided. •' Are you making fun of Brooklyn, or of me? " " Of neither. May I come.? " " If you care to," she said. They walked on together up Fulton Street, follow- ing the stream of returning sight-seers and business men, passing recruiting stations where red-legged in- fantry of the 14th city regiment stood in groups read- ing the extras just issued by the Eagle and Brooklyn Times concerning the bloody riot in Baltimore and the 122 -w >* lM>^•^$s#.lili^^>^'w') ^*v S iittuck on tlif 6Hi Massachusetts. Everywhere, too, ^oh^ie^s of the l.'3th, Ji8th, and 70th regiments of -ity infantry, in blue state uniforms, were marching about briskly, full of the business of recruiting and of theii departure, which was sciieduled for the twenty-third of April. Already the complexion of the Brooklyn civic side- walk crowds was everywhere brightened by military uniforms; cavalrymen of the troop of dragoons at- tached to the 8th New York, jaunty lancers from the troop of lancers attached to the 69th New York, riflemen in green epaulettes and facings, zouaves in red, blue, and brown uniforms came hurrying down the stony street to Fulton Ferry on their return from wit- nessing a parade of the l-ith Brooklyn at Fort Greene. And every figure in uniform thrilled the girl with sup- pressed excitement and pride. Berkley, eyeing them as! mce, began blandly: "Citizens of martial minds. Uniforms of wondrous kinds, Wonderful tf , sights we see — Ailsa, i/ou'l agree with me." "Are you utterly without human feeling?" she demanded. " Because, if you are, there isn't the sliglit- est use of my pretending to be civil to you any longer." "Have j'ou been pretending?" " I suppose you think me destitute of humour," she said, " but there is nothing humourous about patriotism 123 AILSA PAIGE and self-sacrifice to me, and nothing ver.v admirable about thoHc who mock it." Her clieekH were deeply flushed; she looked straight ahead of her m «he walked beside him. Vet, even now the swift little flash of anger revealed an inner glimpse to her of her unaltered desire to know this man; of her interest in him— of something about him that attracted her but defied analysis-or had de- fii-d it until, pursuing it too far one day, she had halted suddenly and backed away. Then, curiously, reflectively, little by little, she re- traced her steps. And curiosity urged *her to investi- gate in detail the Four Fears-fear of the known in another, fear of the unknown in another, fear of the known in one's self, fear of the unknown in one's self. That halted her again, for she knew now that it was something within herself that threatened her. But it was his nearness to her that evoked it. For she saw, now that her real inclination was to be With him, that she had liked him from the first, had found him agreeable— pleasant past belief— and that, although there seemed to be no reason for her liking,' no excuse, nothing to explain her half-fearful pleasure' in his presence, and her desire for it, she did desire it. And for the first time since her widowhood she felt that she had been living her life out along lines that lay closer to solitude than to the happy freedom of winch she had reluctantly dreamed locked in the mana- cles of a loveless marriage. 124 4ILSA PAIGE For her niarnagc hft kit L'i^'y. AILSA PAIGE f > house she had returned alone in her sombre weeds- utterlv ftlonc, in licr nineteenth year. This man had met her then as he n.et J.er now she remen.bered it, remembered, too, that after any ab- sence no matter how short, this old friend had always -not her at her own door-sill, standing aside with head bent as she crossed the sill. Now she gave mi both hands. " It is so kind of you, dear Colonel Arran ' It uouhl not be a home-coming without you—" And glancmg into the hall, nodded radiantly to the assembled servants-her parents' old and privileged and spoiled servants gathered to welcome the young mistress to her own. " Oh-and there's Missy! " she said, as an inquir- Hig 'meow!" sounded close to her skirts. "You irresponsible little thing-I suppose you have more kit- tens. H„s she, Susan.?" " Five m'm," said Susan drily. " Oh, dear. I suppose it can't be avoided. But we mustn't drown any, you know." And with one hand resting on Colonel Arran's arm she began a tour of the house to inspect the new improvements. Later they sat together amid the faded splendours of the southern drawing-room, where sunshine regilded cornice and pier glass, turned the lace curtains to nets of gold, and streaked the red damask iiangings with slanting bars of fire. Shiftless old Jonas shuffled in presently with the oval silver tray, ancient decanters, and seedcakes. 134 AILSA PAIGE And here, over their cakes and Madeira, she told him about her month's visit to the Oaigs': about her hfe in the quaint and quiet city, the restful, ohl-fash- ioned charm of the cultivated circles on Columbia Heights and the Hill: the attractions of a limited so- ciety, a little dull, a little prim, pedantic, perhaps pro- vincially simple, but a society caring f„r the best in art, in music. In literature, instinctively recognising the best although the best was nowhere common in the citv. She spoke of the agreeable people she had met —un- obtrusive, gentle-mannered folk whose homes mav have lacked such Madeira and silver as this, but lacked noth- ing in things of the mind. She spoke of her very modest and temporary duties in church work there, and in charities; told of the ad- vent of the war news and its effect on the sister city. And at last, casually, but without embarrassment, she mentioned Berkley. Colonel Arran's large hand lay along the back of the Virginia sofa, fingers restlessly tracing and retrac- ing the carved foliations supporting the horns of plenty. His heavy, highly coloured head was lowered and turned aside a little as though to bring one ear to bear on what she was saving. " Mr. Berkley seems to be an— unusual man," she ventured. "Do you happen to know him. Colonel Arran?" " Slightly." "Oh. Did you know hi> parents?" " His mother." AfV^jWl' i'% in AILSA PAIGE 1 ! " She is not living, I believe." " No." " Is liis father living? " " I— don't know." ** You never met him? Colonel Arrun'H forefinger slbwly outlined the deep- ly carved horn of plenty. " I am not perfectly sure that I ever met Mr. Berk- ley's father." She .sat, elbows on the table, ga/ing reflectively into .space. " He is a — curious — man." "Did you like him?" asked Colonel Arran with an effort. " Yes," she said, so simply that the Colonel's eyes turned directly toward her, lingered, then became fixed on the sunlit damask folds behind her. " What did you like about Mr. Berkley, Ailsa? '* She considered. " I — don't know — exactly." "Is he cultivated?" " Why, yes — I suppose so." "Is he well bred?" "Oh, yes; only—" she searched mentally — "he is not — may I say, conventional? formal?" "It is an ago of informality," observed Colonel Arran, carefully tracing out each separate grape in the horn of plenty. Ailsa assented; spoke casually of something else; but when Colonel Arran brought the conversation 136 .^.^^jpmixf.7gm^mmm_ AILSJ PAIGE nrouncl a^ain to Dorklov, she in nowiso sroiiu'd reluc- tant. "He is unusually attractive," she said frankly; •• his features, at moments, are almost he/iiitiful. I sometimes wonder whether he resenjhles his mother. Was she beautiful?" " Ves." " I thought she must have been. He resembles her, tioes he not ? " " Yes." " His father was—is—" She hesitated, hioked curi- ously at Colonel Arran, then smiled. "There was something I never thought of when I first met Mr. Berkley, but now I understand why his features seemed to me not entirely unfamiliar. I don't know exactly what it is, but there seems to be something about him that recalls you." Colonel Arran sat absolutely still, his heavy hand gripping the horn of plenty, his face so gray that it «as almost colourless. Ailsa, glancing again at his profile, saw nothing now in it resembling Berkley; and, as he made no response, thought him uninterested. But when again she would have changed the subject, the Colonel stirred, inter- rupting: " Does he seem — well ? " " Well.? " she repeated. " Oh, yes." "He — seems well . . . and in gooFr :-wr^vjBvp'sa&" AILSA PAIGE "" I should like to know him— if he will," he said absently. And took his leave of Ailsa Paige. Next afternoon he came again, and lingered, though neither he nor Ailsa spoke of Berkley. And the ne\t afternoon he reappeared, and sat silent, preoccupied, for a long time, in the peculiar hushed attitude of a man who listens. But the door-bell did not ring and the only sound in the house was from Ailsa's piano, where she sat idling through the sunny after- noon. The next afternoon he said: " Dees lie never call on you ? " "Who?" Mr. Berkley." I — asked him," she replied, flushing faintly. " He has not come, then? " " Not yet. I suppose — business " The Colonel said, ponderously careless: " I imagine that he is likely to come in the late afternoon — when he docs come.'* " I don't know. He is in business." " It doesn't keep him after three o'clock at his office." She looked up surprised: " Doesn't it?" And her eyes asked instinctively: " How did you know? " But the Colonel sat silent again, his head lowered and partly averted as though to turn his good ear toward her. Clearly his mind already dwelt on other matters, she Mas thinking; but she was mistaken. 1 40 f^.^^^m dlLSA PAIGE " When he comes," said Colonel Arran slowly, " will you have the kindness to say to him that ColonJl Arran will be glad to renew the acquaintance? " "Yes. . . . Perhaps he has forgotten the street and number. I might write to him— to remind hini? " Colonel Arran made no answer. She wrote that night : "Deae Mk. Berklky: " I am in my own house now and am very contented —which does not mean that I did not adore being with Cclia Craig and Estcourt and the children. " But home is pleasant, a.id I am wondering whether you might c. to see the home of which I have so often spoken to you when yoi, used to come over to Brooklyn to see me [me erased and ns neatly substituted in long, sweeping characters]. " I have been doing very little since I last saw you— it is not sheer idleness, but somehow one cannot go'light- heartedly to diimers and concerts and theatres in times like these, when traitors are trampling the flag under foot, and when thousands and thousands of young men are leaving the city every day to go to the\lefence of our distracted country. " I saw a friend the other day— a Mrs. Wells— and three of her boys, friends of n.ine, have gone with the 7th, and she is so nervous and excited that she can scarcely speak ai)out it. So many men I know have gone or are going. Stephen was here yesterday, wild to go with the 3d Zouaves, but I promised his father to use 141 'v'^^w:'wm'mm^ •w E't' .■:< -! :;^l AILSA PAIGE my influence — and he is too young — although it is very fine and chivalrous of him to wish to go. " I tliought I would write you a little note, to remind you that I am at home, and already it has become a letter. Please remember— when you think of it at all^ that it would give me pleasure to receive you. " Sincerely yours, "AiLsA Paigk." Toward the end of the week she received a heart- broken note from C'elia Craig, which caused her to hasten over to Brooklyn. She arrived late; the streets were continually blocked by departing troops, and the omnibus took a circuitous course to the ferry, going by way of Fourth Avenue and the Bowery. " Honey-bee ! O Honey-bell ! " whispered her sis- ter-in-law, taking Ailsa into her arms, " I could have behaved myse'f better if Curt were on the side of God and Justice .'—But to have to let him go this way— to know the awful danger — to know he is going against my own people, my own home — against God and the Right! — O Honey-bird! Honey-bud! And the Charleston Mercury says that the South is most bitter against the Zouaves '* "Curt! With the Zouaves!" "Oh yes, yes. Honey-bee! The Third Regiment. And he — soiv.c wicked old men came here yesterday and read a speech — right befo' me — here in this ve'y room — and began to say that they wished him to be colonel of the JJd Zouaves, and that the Governor wished it and — 142 T^a^ior^ AILSA PAIGE other fools! And I rose straight up fom my chair and I said, 'Curt!' And he gave me one look. Oh, Honey-bud! His face was changed; there was that •^ame thing in it that I saw the night the news came about Sumter! And he said: ' Gentlemen, my country educated me; now it honours me.' And I tried to speak Hgain and my lips were stiff; and then he said: 'I ac- cept the command you offer ' " " Oh, C'elia ! " " Yes, he said it, darling! I stood there, frozen— in a corner of my heart I had been afraid-such a long time!— but to have it come real— this terror!— to have this thing take my husband— come into our own home befo' I knew— befo' I dreamed— and take Curt !— take — my— Curt ! " " Where is he? " " With— them. They have a camp near Fort Ham- ilton. He went there this morning." " When is he coming back ? " "I don't know. Stephen is scaring me most to death; he is wild to go, too. And, oh— do you believe it.? Captain Lent has gone with Curt to the' camp, and Curt means to recommend him for his major. What a regiment !— all the soldiers are mere boys, they say — wilful, reckless, hair-brained Imys who don't know— fflnV know— where they're going. . . . And Curt is so blind without his glasses, and Captain Lent IS certainly a little mad, and I'm most distracted myse'f " " Darling — darling — don't rrv ! " 143 iW^e -.'^SrSg^. W .^ '^^ c--'^' AILSA PAIGE I " Cry? Oh, I could die, Ailsa. Yet, I'm Southern enough to c!iokc back cve'y tear and let them go with a smile if they had to go fo' God and the Right ! But to see my Curt go this way— and my only son crazy to join him— Oh, it is ha'd, Honey-bee! ve'v, vc'v ha'd." ■ ^ " Dearest ! " " O Honey-bud ! Honey-bud ! " And the two women mourned, uncomforted. Ailsa remained for three unhappy day-^ in Fort Greene Place, then fled to her own house. A light, amusing letter from Berkley awaited her. It was so like him, gay, cynical, epigrammatic, and inconsequent, that it cheered her. Besides, he subscribed himself very obediently hers, but on re-examining the letter she noticed that he had made no mention of coming to pay his respects to her. So she lived her tranquil life for another week : and Colonel Arran came every day and seemed always to be waiting for something— always listening— gray face buried in his stock. And at the week's end she answered Berkley's letter— although, -n it, he had asked no question. "Dear Mr, Berki-ev: " Such sad news from the Craigs. Estcourt has ac- cepted the command of one of the new zouave regiments — the 3d, in camp near Fort Hamilton. But, being in his office, I suppose you have heard all about it from 144 4ILSA PAIGE Stephen. I»oor Coliu Cruig! It is peculiarly (Ustressing ill her case : all her sympathies are with her native state, and to have her husband go under such unusually tragic circumstances seems too dreadful. Celia is convinced that he will never return ; she reads some Southern paper which breathes awful threats agjiinst the Zouaves in particular. Besides, Stephen is perfectly determined to enlist in his father's regiment, and I can see that they can't restrain him much longer. I have done my best : I have had him here and talked to him and argued with him, but I have made no headway. No appeal moves him; he says that the land will need every man sooner or later, and that the quicker he begins the sooner he will learn how to look out for himself in battle. " The regiment is almost full : to-day, the first six companies are to be mustered into the United States service for three years or for the war. Captain Barris of the regular army is the mustering officer. And on their (leparture I am to present a set of colours to the regiment. It is to be quite solemn. I have already bought the lances, and they are beautiful; the spears are silver gilt, the rings gilded, too, and the flags are made of the most beautiful silk with tassels and fringe of gold bullion. There arc three flags: the national colours, the state flag, and a purple regimental flag lettered in gold :' 3d Regt. N. Y. Zouaves,' and under it their motto : ' MuUorum manibus grande lexatur anus.' I hope it is good Latin, for it is mine. Is it.!* "AlLSA P.\ICE." 145 AILSA PAIGE To this letter he made no reply, and, after a week, his silence hurt her. One afternoon toward the middle of May Stephen was announced ; and with a sudden sense of foreboding she hastened down to the drawing-room. " Oh! " she cried. " Fou— Stephen ! " But the boy in his zouave uniform was beside him- self with excitement and pride, and he embraced her, laughing, and then began to walk up and down the room gesticulating. "I couldn't stand it any longer, and they let me go. I'm sorry for mother, but look at other men's mothers! They're calling for more and more troops every week ! I knew everybody would have to go, and I'm mighty fortunate to get into father's regiment— And O Ailsu! It is a fine regiment! We're drilling every minute, and now that we've got our uniforms it won't be long before our orders come " ' Stephen — does your mother " " Mother knows I can't help it. I do love her ; she knows that perfectly well. But men have got to settle this thing " " Two hundred thousand arc getting ready to settle it ! Are there not enough without you.?— your mother's only son " "Suppose everybody thought that way, where would our army be.'' " " But there are hundreds of regiments forming here —getting ready, drilling, leaving on boats and trains every day " 146 AILSA PAIGE lilv " And every re^rjment is co.npo.secl of ,nen cxoctly me! They g„ bemuse the Nation's business is overybocly's business. And the Nation's business conies first. There's no use talking to me, Ailsa. I've had it out «,th father. He saw that he couhln't prevent me from be talked about. /„hio„.Je and that bttl. a... Arthur VV^e. THaV. the c o.^™' . hor,c-r„o,„«, har.Mri„l,i„«, l,„rd-«„„,b,i„« ere." can he do such things " tool" lr.' "■'"?•-*'"■" """'■'^ '•'*'"'• I'""* who- took all lho»e de«,l ,t„ck, off l,i» ,,.nd». „'.,„•, i, ^ it", LIT "■^^ '"' ""''- '" «"■' - "■"^- ■•" «- " But it ended him. . Dh T «, / ■ . . I^e|^u, A.l»a. I hate like thunder to ..e hin. tZ " What »ay ! " " Oh not caring for an.vbody or anything. He', never .ober, I don't mean that I ever .,„.• hi™ other -o-he doesn't gc-t drunk like an ordinary n,a„ he us, turns deathly white and polite. I've ,net hi™-an. h.» r,end»-.evera, ti„,es. The.Vre too fast a str n^ t T*' '"J r '*"' '»"'' " " »>""» 'hat a „,an lik! Bcrkle, should go to the devil-.nd for no reasl j! " Ves," she said. When Stephen, .swinging hi.s crin,.son fez bv the tas- ^^•1^ stooc, read, to take hi.s leave, she put 'her a „. "round his neck and ki.ssed him. After he departed Colonel Ai as usual, siJcnt, listening. ^rran came, and sat. 149 J^i AILS A PAIGE AiUa was very unimatctl; she told him ftbout Stt- phcn*N enlistment, asked scores of questions about mili- tary life, the chances in battle, the proportion of those who went through war unscathed. And at lerjglh Colotiel Arran arose to take his di- parture; and she had not told what was hammering for utterance in every heart beat; she did not know how to tell, what to ask. Hat in hand Colonel Arran bent over her hot little hand where it lay in his own. " I have been offered the colonelcy j)f a volunteer regiment now forming," he said without apparent in- terest. " You ! '• " Cavalry," he explained wearily. " But — you have not accepted ! " He gave her an absent glance. " Yes, I have ac- cepted. . . . I nm going to Washington to-night." " Oh ! " she breathed, " but you are coming back before — before " " Yes, child. Cavalry is not made in a hurry. I am to sec General Scott — perhaps Mr. Cameron and the President. ... If, in my absence — " he hesitated, looked down, shook his head. And somehow she seemed to know that what he had not said coiuorned Berkley. Neither of them mentioned him. But after Coloiitl Arran had gone she went slowly to her room, ^ut down at her desk, sat there a long, long while think- ing. But it was after midnight before she wrote to Berkley : 150 AILSA PAIGE '* Hhvc V(.u c|iiiti' for^ottin inc? I \ux\X' had to swal- low « littlf orido to writf you uKain. Hut jKrlmps I think our pkasant friendship worth it. •* Stiphtn has hetn htri-. Hi. has onlistrd as a pri- vate in his fatlier's re^inu-nt of /ouavt-s. I I.-arnrd hv acrident from him that you are no longer associated with Crai^ k Son in business. I trust this means at least a Fmrtial reeovery of your fortune. If it d,Ks, with for- tune recovered responsihihties increase, and I ch.mse to Inliev.. that it is tlie. new and exacting v<> AIISA P.ttCE I.HI .Wro ...„|« „„. 1,„, ,|,r.,„«l, I,.,,..,.,,,, ..,,..„, ,^ "n^ht lose our noiiN to^rtlur. " '^"d ""«^ .vou will ,u v.r writ, to mr a^jn." All the Hftemoon si., hn.t at ' .. .K.k, ,„„•,« ov.r - letter I, h,, fH«,t..„.| ,. . ■ , .. kn. « that .o„:..- «'''"ff w, Inn her, not spirit.r.;. L ,- . ,...,,,,,,, . ,„„.,,,^^ nearno.,,,, of Ikt oonsc-iou. .u|,n. ;;<., A- ,. Co..l.Jtl.isbcshe~|.....,f-w.,.: ..t ,,,.„,,, s.ntten..nls--tl.iste I- :-..... tn..„nlous -.ure .tannK.,rv..v.lattl. -,.rin. ...s «,.i.,. cutlH. OP vcrasunclcWroM, tln.s.sdt-o„tla....|„..„, Uhs tins l.ttcr still „nln.n,nl. IF ,' sl.o not Iut fill of Its brutality, its Hickt.ln.ss? Kut she was verv tire.l, and she lai.l her arms „n 1- c csk and her hea.l between then.. And against her Lot face she felt the «h,1 letter-paper. All that she had .Irean.ed and fanned nn.l believed and cared for in n.an passed dully through her nund. IliT own asp.rations toward id.-al won.anhood followe.l --v..sa,ns of lofty desire, high ideals, i.u.oeent passions, the^ happiness of renunciation, the glory of forgive- She sat erect, breathing unevenly ; then her eyes Ml on the Mter, and she covered it w,th her hands, ,s hands coyer the shame on a stricken face. An.l after a long time her hps moved, repeating: 1;"3 ^' AILSJ PAIGE ncss- Tho glory of forgiveness— the glory of forgive Her heart wwis heating very hard ancl fast as her thoughts ran on. To forgive-help hin.-teach truth-nobler ideals " til She coul.l not rest; sleep, if it really came, was a ghostly thing that mocked her. And all the next day .she roamed about the house, haunted «ith the conscious- ness of where his letter lay lockeut some -n ; and the road to hell is a lonely one-damned onelv. Better let a n.an travel it like a gentlen.an if 1.0 can. It s .nore dignified than sliding into it on your back, clutching a handful of lace petticoat " He added: "There's only one hell; and it'« heU. perhaps, because there are no women there." CHAPTER VIII Bi5.KT.EY, hollow-eyed, ghasUy white, but smilinir, glanced at the clock. " Only one more hand after this," he said. " I open it for the limit." " All in." .said Cortlandt briefly. " What are vou going to do now.?" "Scindere glaciemr observed Berkley, "you may give me three cards, Cortlandt." He took them «ranned his hand, to.s.sed the di.scards into the centre' of the tah.e, and M ten dollar^. Through the tobacco smoke druung in level bands, the crystal chandeliers in (ortlandt'« hou.se glinm.ered murkily; the cigar ha/e oven stretched away into the farther room, where, under l.r.lhantly lighted .side brackets, a ymmg «irl sat play- mg at the piano, a glass of ch.unpagne, ^one Hat, at her dm,ple,l elbow. Another ^irl, in a shrimp-pink even- ' .g gown, one silken knee drooping over the other, lay half buried among the cushions, sinking the air which the player at the piano picked out by ear. A third girl velvet-eyed and dark of hair, listened pensively, turning the genjs on her fingers. The pretty musician at th.' piano was playing an old song, once much admire,} by the sentimenial ; the singer, rechnmg amid her cushions, .sang the word, absently : * lfi7 L^.^i 1 AILSA PAIGE "n'hy did I ijive my heart a way- Give it MO lujhihf, f,irr it to pay For a plmmnt dream „„ „ ^iimmrr'., day? "Why did I .jireY / do not hinw. Surely the p,i.<,.<,i„g y,.„r^ ,,,,yy ^f^^^^, ''Why did I f,i,r my Inrr airay— (iirr it in April, yire it in Slatf, For a young man. .mile on a summer', day? "Whydid I lorey r don,^ hunr. Perhaps the pa.simj years uHl show. "Why did I yire my soul awai/~ dire It MO yaily. ,,iee it to jxiy For a si,jh and a ki.H.H on a summerS day? "Perhaps the passing years may sfiow; My heart and /. ur do not hww." She broke off short, swung on tJ.e revolving chair, "Last jack, Miss Carew," said Berkley, "I'm op.rung it for the li„,it. Give me one roun.l\.f fi.ed anununition, Arthur." ; There's „„ use clrawing," observed another man, iHj.ng down his han.i, " Berkley cleans us up «, usual " He WHS nght: everything uent to Berkley, as usual, who laughed and turned a dissipated face to (. asson. '• Cohl (leeks? " he suggested politely. " Vour re- venge at your convenience. Jack.*' 158 AILSA PAIGE asM>n .loclinc.l. (urtlan.lt, i„ his brilliant .ouavo u.nforn., stood up a.ul strotclu.,! his arn.s „nt,| the scarlet chevrons on the blue sk-ews HrinkK.l into ja^'Ki'd lightning. "It's boon vorv kin.i of vou all to como to n.y last K«>o< -l>v. partv,' " ho vawno.l, lookin,, .,..,„■,,. a'rou.ul Inin through tho snioko at his bolongings. For a wook h.- had boon pvin^. .. " ^.,o.|-bvo party " ^erv^ove^mg in his hanting. Arthur I SHW your battery horses: they In^iong in a glue factory. How are you going to save your guns when the robs conie after you.^ " replied^ V\yc, yawnuig again. Then, rising: " I've g„t to got back to that cursed fort I'll escort anybody wiio'll let me." 160 AILSA PAIGE One more glass, then," said rortIan.lt. -Berkley, fill the parting cup! Ladies of the Canterhury. fair ^ha^crs of our hospitahty who have l.ft the triumphs of the drama to cheer the unfortunate sol.lier on hi, war-«ard way, I raise ,„y ^,,,,, ,„., ,,^. ,;^ ^^ ^^^^,^ lcrps.chorean tc. which, erstwhile, was pointe,! skyward a"n.l the thun.ler of metropolitan plaudits, and which "ow demurely taps „,y flattere.l carpet. (Jentlemen- «old.ers and civilians-I give y„u three toasts! Miss Cnrew Miss Ly,.den, Miss Trent! Long may they dunce ! Hurrah ! " " . / "Get on the table," said Ca.sson amieye.| the exorcises of the haute ccole in which three flushe.l an.l laughing young girls followe.l the «iashn,g lead of Cortlan.lt, while Berkley pUye.l a cavalry canter on the piano with one hanJ . d waved lus cigar m the other. Later, breathless, they touche.l glasses to the .lepart- ."g yolunteers, to each other, to the la.lies ('• Go.l bless then.! Hear! He-ah!"), to the war, to every re«i- "-.t go.ng, to each separate battery horse and mule ". Arthur s .>ecti.,n. An.l then began on the guns. I prophesy a ,,uick reunion!" sai.l Berkley Here s to it! Full glasses ! " "Speech: Speech-vou ni.nbK-witted. lin.ber- I'^fgcl pr,.ph.t ! '• roare.1 John Ca.son, throwing a p.ck of cards at Berklcv. " Head the cards for usf" 16!iJ ilLSA PAIGE Berkley very Krac.fullv caught « handful, an.l ««rt. uig tJani, begun improjnptu: " Dianiontl.s for you, Littlf Mi.H.s Carew, Stninjt in a n.w. Tie*! in a Imiw — What would y«»u (io If thfv canio true? "What ran it Ih*? Iliuri.'>: for Mis., L,.tty— Swei'theartji and b#'ai!x, Monarchs in rows. Knaves on their knees — ('ho«ise among th«-»e! 'Thibs now. I seel Ace! for Miss Hetty— (hihnian and swell. Soldier as wt-ll. ^es. he's all three; W'ho can he be ? "lone. l)e kind To monarch and knave. But make up your mind To make Vm behave. And when a man finds !/<>« The nicest he's met, In- Is likely to marry you, I-etly anet, iT({«r» so. "For — what.?" "I don't know," he said serenely, " but I am betting It will ^o for rent, and board, and things a girl needs- whenshe has no man to ask them of-and nothing to pay for them.*' ^ " You mean no man— excepting— you .? " ^ J' No," he said wearily, " I'm not trying to buy She crimsoned. "I thought-then why do you -" "Why.? Good God, child! / don't know! How do I know why I do anything.? I've enough left for mv journey. Take this and try to behave yourself if you 168 iM^L^.^^eMu^- .IB.. •.<*.. '•'I uou it fairly, and In, o„in,n- f. stake it all „„ .,Me Ia*.t bet.'" .•'J^^^^'\ ^ ■ . :i ■■■d ■>^^"WMi^'''^im>m •" ij" "■ 11 ^^m r..W^^i^m-i^: '^■h^rr AILSA PAIGE can— in the Canterbury and out of it! . . . Anil buy a new lock for that door of yours. Good nioht." She sprang up and laid a detaining luuid on hi, sleeve as he reached the hallway. " Mr. Berkley f I— I can't " He said, smiling: "My manners are really better than that " " I didn't mean " " You ought to. Don't let any man Lxke his leave in such a manner. Men belieye a woman to be what she thmks she is. Think well of yourself. And go to bed. I never saw such a sleepy youngster in my life ! Good night, you funny, sleepy little thing." " Mr. Berkley— I can't take— accept " " Oh, listen to her! " he said, disgusted. " Can't I make a bet with my own money if I want to.? I am bcttmg; and you are holding the stakes. It depends on how you use them whether I win or lose." "I don't understand— I don't, truly," she stam- mered; " d-do you wish me to— leave— the Canterbury.? Do you — rehat is it you wish.? " " You know better than I do. I'm not advising you. Where is your home ? Why don't you go there ? You have one somewhere, I suppose, haven't you? " " Y-yes ; I had." " Well — where is it ? " " In Philadelphia." II Couldn't you stand it.? " he inquired with a sneer. " No." She covered her faoe with h«r hands. "Trouble.?" 169 j^"ai»"^BRF,^';?-*r-'"'«i^Rra«i i^Bb ilLSA PAIGE n " V-ycs." "Man?" " Y y yes." " Won't they take you back? " " I — haven't written." "Write. Home s no stupider than the Canter- bury. Will you write?" She nodded, hiding lier face. "Then— /Aflr« settled. Meanwhile—" he took both her wrists and drew away her clinging hands : " I'd rather like to win this bet because- the odds are all against me." He smilc.l. letting lier hands swing back and hang inert at her sides. But she only closed her eyes and shook her head, standing there, slim and tear-stained in her ruffled, winc-staincd dinner dress. And, watching her, he re- treated, one step after another, slowly: and slowly closed the door, and went out into the dawn, weary, h.iggard, the taste of life bitter in his mouth. " What a spectacle," he sneered, referring to him- self, "the vicious god from the machine! Chorus of seraphim. Apotheosis of little Miss Turveydrop " He swayed a trifle as he walked, but it was not from the wine. A policeman Qycd him unf ivourably. " No," said Berkley, " I'm not drunk. You think I am. But I'm not. And I'm too tired to tell you how I left niy happy, happy home." In the rosy gray of the dawn he sat down on the steps of his new lodgings and gazed quietly into space. 170 v'K?¥'misH?*'«-^w.i»sai msrSF tILSA PAIGE " 77*/* isn't ^roin^r to liclp," ho said. - I can stand yours of it vet. And that's much too long." He hrooded for a few momenta. " I hope she doesn't write nie again. I can't stand everything." lie got up with an ugly, oblique glance at the red- dening sky. " I'm what he's made nic— and I've got to let her alone. . . . Let her alone. I-" He halted, laid his hand heavily on the door, standing so, motionless. " If I— go— near her, he'll tell her what I am. If he didn't, I'd have to tell her. There's no wav-any- M-here— for me. And he made me so. . . . And— l,v God! it's in me— in me— to— to— if she writes again—" He straightened up, turned the key calmly, and let him- self in. Burgess was asleep, but Berkley went into his room and awoke him, shining a candle in his eyes. " Burgess ! " " S-sir.^ " "Suppose you know you could never marry a woman. Would you keep away from her? Or would you do as nmch as you could to break her heart first? " Burgess yawned : " Yes, sir." " You'd do all you could ? " " Yes, sir." There was a long silence; then Bcrklev laughed. « They drowned the wrong pup," he said pleasa^ntly. " Good night." But Burgess was already asleep again. 171 ^«f? rm^A^rj^m jffTS^?£^5vSir j.>.'' •'i, •-- CHAPTKR IX And now at last she knew what it was she feared. For she was he^ri„„in^ to understand that this man was utterly unworthy, utterly insensible, without character, without one sympathetic trait that appealed to any- thing in her except her senses. She understood it now, |yi„g there alone in her room, knowing it to he true, admitting it in all the hit- ter humiliation of self-contempt. Hut even in the light of this new self-knowledge her inclination for him seemed a thing so unreasonable, so terrible, that, con- fused and terrified by the fear of s,,iritual demoralisa- tion, she believed that this bewildering passion was all that he had ever evoked in her, and fell sick in mind and body for the shame of it. A living fever was on lier night and day ; disordered memories of him haunted her, waking; defied her, sleep- ing; and her hatred for what he had awakened in her grew as her blind, childish longing to see him grew, leav- ing no peace for her. What kind of love was that .'—founded on nothino-, nurtured on nothing, thriving on nothing except wl.rt her senses beheld in him. Nothing higher, nothing purer, nothing more exalted had she ever learned of 1T2 AILS A PAIGE l.im than wluit her eyes saw; and they had seon only a man in his ripe youth, without purpose, without i,leal«, tak.nir carelessly of the worhl what he wouhl on.- .lay return to it-the luateriul, born in corruption, an.l to corruption dooujed. It was ni^rht she feared most. Bv (hiy there were duties awaitin^r, or to be invented. AIm,, sometimes, stand.n^r on her steps, she could hoar the distant soun.I of drums, catch a ^r|i,„p,se far to the eastward of .s,„n.. regiment bound South, the long rippling line of bay- onets, a flutter of colour where the North was passing on God's own errand. And lovo of country became a passion. Stephen came sometimes, but his news of Uirkley M-as always indefinite, usually expresse.l with a shrug and emphasised in silences. Colonel Arran was ,till in Washingtmi, but he wrote licr every day, and always }u »sked whether Berkley had come. She never told i Like thousands and thous.nds of other women in New York she did what she v^-4 for t . M>Idier8, con- tributing from her purse, a( ^uir meeHngs, making havelocks, n by eight, for .ijers' caps, rolling bandages, scraping lint in coinj. ,y with otiier girls of her acquaintance, visiting barr ks an.l can.j)s and " soldiers' rests," sending endle^. Mvhes of pies and cakes and dozens of jars of prt-er^ fr.)n *< r k tclicn to the various distributing depots. Sainte Ursula's Church sent oui a >arish- 173 H* "vl r': ■*'.'8»ll»'7 ■ IILSJ PAIGE loners; H notici- «,»> printrd in all tlio p/ijuTs rujucstin^ nny woni. n of \hv vontrrv^nilon wlio liml a knowledge of mir,sin/r to nu» » ,.t tl.r mtory for tlu- pm-poso of or^unisution. And Ailsa wvui and enrolled herself as one who had had home hospital experierue. Siekness anion;,' the thousands of troops in tlic city there already was, also u few cases of gunshots in the accident wards incident on the carelessness or i/r„orancc of raw- volunteers. Hut «s yet in the Kast there had been no sol.her wounded in hatfle, no violent death ex- cept that of the youn^r ndonel of the 1st Tire Zouaves, shot down at Alexandria. So there was no regular hospital duty asked of Ailsa Paige, none required; and she and a few other women attended a class of instruction conducted hy her own physician. Dr. Benton, who explained the simi)ler necessities of emergency cases and coolly predicted that there would be plenty of need for every properly in- structed woman who cared to volunteer. So the ladies of Sainte Ursula's listened very serious- ly; and some had enough of it very soon, and some re- mained longer, and finally only a small residue was left —quiet, silent, attentive women of various ages who came every day to hear what Dr. Benton had to tell them, and Wiite it down in their little morocco note- books. And these, after a whiL, became the Protestant sisterhood of Sainte Ursula, and wore, on duty, the garb of gray with the pectoral scarlet heart. May went out with the booming of shotted guns beyond the Southern horl/on, amid rumours of dead ITi .,.i^-^Z.Jm AILS. I PAiai: Z')n.n,.> mid r.ivalryni.ri soinrwIuTc h, vnn.i .\hx,,,nlt -.i. An.l on Hint day the 7Hi Kr^ri„u.„t nhininl t<. Karn\„M tlu- city, and Hiv anxious ,ity v\uwvi\ its nturn, and pfopi,. slept nioro soundly f.)r \\, tlM.u^d. all day l..n;f the stmts .cliood with tl.r nnisi,- „f troops d.partin^r' and of iT^ri„K.„ts paradin^r f,,,- ., |,i,f i,„p,.t.ti„„ |„,,„",. flif Last ;r()()d.|)y,..s uiTr said. Hi-rkicy saw snnu- of this from his window. N.v. r pirfoctly solur now, he s.ldoni l.ft his rooms cxci pt at ni^d.t: and all day lon/r hi- rnid, or hn.od.-d, or lav hstloss, or as mar drunk as Ir. vxvr couM he, indifr.'r.iit. n.-itluT pati.nt nor impatii-nt with a lifi- ho no lon^r^r cari'd fnou-rh ahout to lithcr use or taki>. There w.re intervals when (he de.p despair within him awoke (luiverin/r; instants of fierce ^mef instantly fontrolled, throttled: moments of listhss relaxati.m when some particularly contemptible trait in Burtress faintly .unused him, or some attempted invasion of his miserable seclusion provoked u sneer or ;i ha^'/;rard smile, or perhaps an uneasiness less i^r„oble, as when, pos- sibly, the brief series of letters lu-cra,, and en.led between liini and the dancing girl of the Canterbury. " Dkar Mr. Bkkki.kv: " Could you come for mc after the theatre this cven- " Letitia Lvxdex." i'>g? " Dkar Letty : " I'm afraid I couldn't. " Very truly yours, "P. O. Berkley.' 175 li^.H'agw »'■«*"!- % AILSA PAIGE ^^\ Ti' W'' " Deae Mr. Berkley: " Am I not to see you again? I think perhaps you might care to hear that I have been doing what you wished ever since that night. I have also written home, but nobody has repKed. I don't think they want me now. It is a httle lonely, being what you wish me to be. I thought you might come sometimes. Could you.? " Letitia Lynden." " Dear Letitia : " I seem to be winning my bet, but nobody can ever tell. Wait for a while and then write home again. Meantime, why not make bonnets.? If you want to, I'll see that you get a chance. "P. O. Berkley." " Dear Mr. Berkley : " I don't know how. I never had any skill. I was aosistant in a physician's office— once. Thank you for your kind and good offer— for all your goodness to me. I wish I could see you sometimes. You have been better to me than any man. Could I.' " Letty." " Dear Letty : " Why not try some physician's office.? " " Dear Mr. Berkley : " Do you wish me to.? Would you see me sometimes if I left the Canterbury.? It is so lonely— you don't know, Mr. Berkley, how lonely it is to be what you wish me to be. Please only come and speak to mc. " Letty." 176 A»-r '""'^lanr' ^^M?.^m^m¥^s^^^m AILSA PAIGE Dear Lktty: " "^7 '' « ^"'•d to a nice doctor, Phlneas Benton, M.D. I have not seen him in years ; he remembers me as I was. You will not, of course, disillusion him. I've Imd to he to him about you-and about myself. I've told h.m that I know your family in Philadelphia, that they asked me about the chances of a position here for you as an assistant in a physician's office, and that now vou had come on to seek for such a position. Let me know how the lie turns out. " P. O. Berkley." A fortnight later came her last letter: " Dear Mr. Berkley : " I have been with Dr. Benton nearly two weeks now. He took me at once. He is such a good man ! But-I don't know-sometimes he looks at me and looks at me as though he suspected what I am— and I feel my cheeks gettmg hot, and I can scarcely speak for nervousness; and then he always smiles so pleasantly and speaks so courteously that I know he is too kind and good to sus- pect. " I hold sponges and instruments in minor opera- tions, keep the office clean, usher in patients, offer them smelhng salts and fan them, prepare lint, roll bandages —and I know already how to do all this quite well I thmk he seems pleased with me. He is so very kind to me. And I have a little hall bedroom in his house, very tmy but very neat and clean ; and I have my meals with 177 ms^^r-. AILSA PAIGE A k liis housekeeper, an old, old woman who is very deaf and very pleasant. " I don't go out because I don't know where to go. I'm afraid to go near the Canterbury— afraid to meet anybody from there. I think I would die if any man I ever saw there ever came into Dr. Benton's office. The idea of that often frightens me. But nobody has come. And I sometimes do go out with Dr. Benton. He is instructing a class of ladies in the principles of hospital nursing, and lately I have gone with him to hold things f • him while he demonstrates. And once, when he was called away suddenly, I remained with the class alone, and I was not very nervous, and I answered all their questions for them and showed them how things ought to be done. They were so kind to me; and one very lovely girl came to me afterward and thanked me and said that she, too, had worked a little as a nurse for charity, and asked me to call on her. " I was so silly— do you know I couldn't see her for the tears, and I couldn't speak— and I couldn't let go of her hands. I wanted to kiss them, but I was ashamed. " Some day do you think I might see you again.? I am what you have asked me to be. I never wanted to be anything else. They will not believe that at home because they had warned me, and I was such a fool— and per- haps you won't believe me— but I didn't know what I was doing ; I didn't want to be what I became— This is really true, Mr. Berkley. Sometime may I see you ^S*"^-'' Yours sincerely, " Letitia a. Lynden." 178 AILSA PAIGE He had replied that he would see her some . mouth, all his now, fr> the taking, as he his arms. But he only stared down at »l*.t lav tk-re; and, trembling, breathless, her eyes un« in*ed « d ^^e looked up blindly into his flushed face. " Because I vou," she sighetl. -~ 1 b^■lie^ that — that I have— > er — seen — in u^a." lie looked back into her eyes, sten^l H-: "I am going mad over you, Ail Tl ) * im ; tic scetvt of relt. \ed, )air, hrr her \nUi n n \ )nl destruction for you in that madness. . . . St> U ! hi you go .-^ " "W-what.?" But the white p vsion in his face was enoUi'i; and, involuntarily her litl^ shut it out. But she did uot stir. " I — warned you," he said again. "I know. ... Is it in you to — destroy— ue?" " God knows. . . . Yes, it is." She scarcely breathed; only their hearts battled there in silence. Then he said harshly: " What else is there for us.^ You would not marry me. 187 u.'*^'i^.^*>r^ ^ "a**''?: AILSA PAIGE " Ask inc." " Vou Moul.l not inurrj n.e if I told you '• **W}mt?" ** I will not tell von ! " " Arc vou — nuirricd? " " \o ! " "Then /f//mc!" "G".i! So! I can't throw thU hour «w..v. I cunt hrow love .way! I want you anvwav-i/ vou have tlie — courage ! " . . . "■ "Toll ,„c. I promise to marry you anyway. I promwc It, whatever you are! Tell me." 1.- " 'r" '^". "'^'^ "•'-''''ini" neck «„,! f„rel,cn,l : "« embrace ,ud,lo„ly hurt her »o that ,he cried ou faintly, but her hand closed on l,i». "Tell me tell me, Ml me!" .he pleaded: "I tZ H ".T f """' '^^ -™"""«-»on,e dreads. • thng that has been done to you-" and ceased, palled at the .listorted visage he turncl on her i arms relaxed and fell away from her Released, she stood swaying as though stunned f;;;;"" '»"' '«'"<'» '" '- «^-. twn h he* am-s full; For a moment they confronted one another; then ttnxtr"''' '"'""' '' »'■-"'- ••■■'" « '-«" "No," he said, "I „„„-, t„,| , You „„ canng for me. Tn, bea.,t enough to let you. Go carmg! Love me-if you'r. brave enough. . Anl I war^ you now that I love you, and I don't care a'dam:' 188 AILSA PAIGE how I do it ! . . . Now you are frightened ! . , . Very well— I- " ^ ♦♦ He swayed a Httle, swung blin