The Storm Centre: A Novel, Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  The next day naught of interest would Baynell detail of his venture intothe storm centre. His invitation to the house of Judge Roscoe, somewhatnoted for the vigor of his rebellious sentiments, resentful, implacable,even heady in the assumptions of his age, had roused the curiosity ofBaynell's two most intimate friends concerning the traits of thatsecluded inner exclusive circle which only the accident of ancientassociation had enabled him to penetrate. In the tedium of camp routineeven slight matters were of interest, and it was the habit of the threeto compare notes and relate for mutual entertainment their variedexperiences since last they had met.

  The battery of six pieces which Baynell commanded enjoyed a certainrenown as a crack corps, and spectators were gathering to witness thegun-drill,--a number of soldiers from the adjoining cavalry and infantrycamps, a few of the railroad hands from the repair work on a neighboringtrack, and a contingent of freedmen, jubilantly idle. Standing a littleapart from these was a group, chiefly mounted, consisting of severalofficers of the different arms of the service, military experts,critically observant, among whom was Colonel Vertnor Ashley, whocommanded a volunteer regiment of horse, and a younger man, LieutenantSeymour of the infantry.

  It was a fine fresh morning, with white clouds scudding across a denselyblue sky chased by the wind, the grass springing into richer verdure,the buds bourgeoning, with almost the effect of leaflets already, in thegreat oak and tulip trees of the grove. Daffodils were blooming here andthere, scattered throughout the sward,--even beneath the carriages ofthe guns a score perhaps, untrampled still, reared aloft the golden"candlesticks" with an illuminating effect. The warm sun was flashingwith an embellishing glitter on the rows of the white tents of the armyon the hills around the little city as far as the eye could reach. Thedeep, broad river, here and there dazzling with lustrous stretches ofripples, was full of craft,--coal-barges, skiffs, gunboats, the ordinarysteam-packets, flatboats, and rafts; the peculiar dull roar of a railwaytrain heavily laden, transporting troops, came to the ear as the engine,shrieking like a monster, rushed upon the bridge with its greatconsignment of crowded humanity in the long line of box cars, anadditional locomotive assisting the speed of the transit.

  "Come here, Ashley, and see if you can make anything of Baynell," saidthe infantry lieutenant, whose regiment lay in camp a little to thewest, as the colonel reined in his horse under the tree where Seymourwas hanging on to Baynell's stirrup-leather. "He hasn't a syllable tosay. I want to know what is the name of that pretty girl at JudgeRoscoe's."

  Ashley came riding up with his inimitable pompous swagger, half theresult of jocose bravado, half of genuine and justifiable vanity. Itwent very well with the suggestions of his high cavalry boots, hisclanking sword, and his jingling spurs. His somewhat broad ruddy facehad the merit of a sidelong glance of great archness, delivered from apair of vivacious hazel eyes, and he twirled his handsome, long, darkmustache with the air of a conqueror at the very mention of a prettygirl.

  "I can tell you more about Judge Roscoe's family than Fluellen Baynellever will," Ashley declared gayly. "So ask _me_ what you want to know,Mark, and don't intrude on Nellie's finical delicacy."

  Throughout the campaign Colonel Ashley's squadrons had cooperated withBaynell's artillery. The officers had come to know and respect eachother well in the stress of danger and mutual dependence. It may bedoubted whether any other man alive could with impunity have calledFluellen Baynell "Nellie."

  Baynell was in full uniform, splendidly mounted, awaiting the hourappointed, and now and again casting his eye on the camp "street" atsome distance, the stable precincts all a turmoil of hurrying driversand artillerymen harnessing horses and adjusting accoutrements, while acontinuous hum of voices, jangling of metal, and tramping of steeds cameon the air. He withdrew his attention with an effort.

  "Why, what do you want me to tell?" he demanded sarcastically;--"whatthey had for supper?"

  "No--no--but just be neighborly. For sheer curiosity I want to know hisdaughter's name," persisted the lieutenant of infantry.

  "Judge Roscoe has no daughter," replied Baynell.

  "His granddaughter, then."

  "His granddaughters are children--I have forgotten their names."

  "Well, _who_ is that young lady there?--a beauty of beauties. I caught aglimpse of her at the window the day we pitched our camp in the peachorchard over there."

  "She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen," solemnly declaredAshley, who had artistic proclivities. "I never saw a face likethat--such chiselling, so perfect--unless it were some fine antiquecameo. It has the contour, the lines, the dignity, of a Diana! And herhair is really exquisite! Who is she, Fluellen?"

  Baynell was conscious of the constraint very perceptible in his voice ashe replied, "She is Judge Roscoe's niece, Mrs. Gwynn."

  Ashley stared. "_Mrs.!_ Why, she doesn't look twenty years old!" Then,with sudden illumination, "Why--that must be the '_widder 'oman!_'" withan unctuous imitation of old Ephraim's elocution. "I _am_ surprised.Mrs. Gwynn! 'De widder 'oman!'" He broke off to laugh at a suddenrecollection.

  "I wish you could have heard old Janus's account of his effort to cleanthe knives to suit her. She seems to be in command of the commissariatup there. The old darkey came into camp, searching for the methods ofpolishing metals that the soldiers use for their accoutrements.'Brilliancy without labor,' was Uncle Ephraim's desideratum. I gave himsome rotten-stone. His sketch of how the judgment day would overtake himstill polishing knives for the 'widder 'oman' was worth hearing."

  Baynell would not have so considered it--thus far apart were the friendsin prejudice and temperament. Yet there was no derogation in the simplegossip. To the campaigners the Roscoe household was but the temporaryincident of the mental landscape, and the confidential bit of criticismand comment served only to make conversation and pass the time.

  All of Vertnor Ashley's traits were on a broad scale, genial and open.He had the best opinion imaginable of himself, and somehow the worldshared it--so ingratiating was his joviality. His very defects wereobviated and went for naught. Although, being only of middle height,his tendency to portliness threatened the grace of his proportions, hewas esteemed a fine figure and a handsome man. He made a brave show inthe saddle, and was a magnificent presentment of a horseman. He was apoor drill; his discipline was lax, for he dearly loved popularity andfostered this incense to his vanity. He was adored in his regiment, andhe never put foot in stirrup to ride in or out of camp that even thiscasual appearance was not cheered to the echo. "That must be VertAshley, or a rabbit!" was a usual speculation upon the sound of suddenshouting, for the opportunity to chase a rabbit was a precious break inthe monotony of the life of the rank and file.

  Baynell's coming and going, on the contrary, was greeted with nodemonstration. He was a rigid disciplinarian. He exacted every capacityfor work that the men possessed, and his battery was one of the mostefficient of the horse artillery in the service. But when it came to thetest of battle, the cannoneers could not shout loud and long enough.They were sure of fine execution and yet of careful avoidance of thereckless sacrifice of their lives and the capture of their guns, oftenreturning, indeed, from action, covered with glory, having lost not oneman, not so much as a sponge-staff. So fine an officer could welldispense with the arts that fostered popularity and ministered tovanity. Thus the slightest peccadillo made the offender and the woodenhorse acquaint.

  None of Baynell's qualities were of the jovial order. He was a martinet,a technical expert in the science of gunnery, a stern and martial leaderof men. His mind was an orderly assimilation of valuable information,his consciousness a repelling exclusive assortment of sensitive fibres.He had a high and exacting moral sense, and his pride of many variouskinds passed all bounds. He listened with aghast dismay to the story ofMrs. Gwynn's unhappy married life that Ashley rehearsed,--the ordinarygossip of the day, to be heard everywhere,--and then a discussion tookplace as to whether or not the horse that killed her husband w
ere thevicious charger now ridden by the colonel of a certain regiment.

  "It couldn't be," said Ashley, "that happened nearly a year ago."

  This talk hung on for a long time, as it seemed to Baynell. Yet he didnot welcome its conclusion, for a greater source of irritation was tocome.

  "But now that you have a footing there, Fluellen, I want you tointroduce me," said Colonel Ashley, who was a person of consideration inhigh and select circles at home, and spoke easily from thevantage-ground of an acknowledged social position. "I should be glad tomeet Mrs. Gwynn. I never saw any one whose appearance so impressed me."

  "Take me with you when you two call," the lieutenant, all unprescient,interjected casually. The next moment he was flushing angrily, for,impossible as it seemed, Baynell was declining in set terms.

  "My footing there would not justify me in asking to introduce myfriends," he said. "I should be afraid of a refusal."

  Ashley, too, cast a swift, indignant glance upon him. Then, "I'll riskit," he said easily; for ill-humor with him was "about face" so suddenlythat it was hardly to be recognized.

  Baynell showed a stiff distaste for the persistence, but maintained hisposition.

  "Judge Roscoe made it plain that it was only for the sake of hisfriendship with my father that he offered any civility to me--noconcession politically. My status as an officer of the 'Yankee army' isan offence and a stumbling-block to him."

  "Bless his fire-eating soul! I don't want to convert him from histreason. I desire only to call on the lady."

  "I myself could not call on Mrs. Gwynn," protested Baynell. "She hardlyspoke a word to me."

  "It will be quite sufficient for her to listen to me," laughed Ashley.

  "She took only the most casual notice of my presence--barely to give mea cup of tea."

  "Now, Baynell," said the lieutenant, exceedingly wroth. "I want you tounderstand that I take this very ill of you."

  He was a tall, spare young fellow, with light, straight brown hair, alight-brown mustache, and a keen, excitable blue eye, which showedwell-opened and alert from under the dark brim of his cap as he lookedupward, still standing at the side of Baynell's restive horse. "I thinkit a very poor return for similar courtesy. I took _you_ with me to callon Miss Fisher--and--"

  "This is a very different case. I, personally, am not on terms with Mrs.Gwynn. Besides, she is very different from Miss Fisher, who entertainsgeneral society. Mrs. Gwynn is a widow--in deep mourning."

  "But it _is_ told in Gath that widows are not usually inconsolable,"suggested Ashley, with a brightening of his arch eyes, and stilllaughing it off.

  "I am much affronted, Captain Baynell," declared the irasciblelieutenant. "I consider this personal. And I will get even with you forthis!"

  "And I will get an introduction to Mrs. Gwynn without your kindoffices," declared Ashley, with a jocular imitation of their youngfriend's indignant manner.

  "I shall be very happy if you can meet her in any appropriate way. It isnot appropriate for me, cognizant of their ardent rebel sympathies andintense antagonism to the Union cause and antipathy to all itssupporters, to ask to introduce my friends of the invading 'Yankeearmy,'" Baynell replied with stiff hauteur.

  Just then the bugle sang out, its mandatory, clear, golden tones liftinginto the sunshine with such a full buoyant effect that it was like thevery spirit of martial courage transmuted into sound. Baynell instantlyput his horse into motion, and rode off through the brilliant air andthe sparse shadows of the budding trees. His blond hair and mustache,gilded by the sunlight, had as decorative an effect as his gold lace;his blue eyes glittered with a stern, vigilant light; his face wasflushed, something unusual, for he was wont to be pale, and his erect,imposing, soldierly figure sat his spirited young charger with thefirmness of a centaur. The eyes of all the group followed him, severalcommenting on his handsome appearance, his fine bearing, his splendidhorse, and his great value as an officer.

  "He is an admirable fellow," declared Dr. Grindley, a surgeon on his wayto the hospital hard by. He had paused at a little distance, and had notheard the conversation.

  "If he were not such a prig," Ashley assented dubiously. "Such anuncompromising stickler on trifles! Any other man in the world wouldhave slurred the matter over, and never kept the promise of theintroduction. If inconvenient or undesirable, he might have postponedthe call indefinitely."

  "He is a most confounded prig," said Lieutenant Seymour, in greatirritation.

  "Baynell must have everything out--to the bitter end," said Ashley.

  "I'd like to break his head! I'd like to break his face--with my fist,"exclaimed the lieutenant, petulantly, clenching his hand again andagain. He detailed the tenor of the conversation to the surgeon as thegroup watched the manoeuvring battery. "Isn't that a dog-in-the-manger-ishtrick, Dr. Grindley? He wants to keep his Roscoes to himself. Mrs. Gwynnwon't speak to him, and so he wants nobody else to go there whom she_might_ speak to!"

  Baynell, still uncomfortably conscious of the rancor he had roused, hadtaken his position in the centre, just the regulation twelve paces infront of the leading horses, with the music four paces distant from theright of the first gun. As the sound blared out gayly on the crisp,clear, vernal breeze, the glittering ranks, every soldier mounted on astrong, fresh steed, moved forward swiftly, with the gun-carriages andcaissons each drawn by a team of six horses. The air was full of thetramp of hoofs and the clangor of heavy, revolving wheels, ever and anonpunctuated by the sharp monition, "Obstacle!" as one of the giant oaksof the grove intervened and the direction of the march of a piece wasobliqued. The efficiency of the battery was very evident. The drill wasalmost perfect, despite the difficulty of manoeuvring among the trees.But when the ranks passed from the grove they swept like a whirlwindover the open spaces of the adjoining pasture-lands, the whole batteryswinging here and there in sharp turns, never losing the prescribedintervals of the relative distance of squads, and guns, andcaissons--all like some single intricate piece of connected mechanism,impossible of disassociation in its several parts. Ever and anon theclear tenor tones of the captain rang out with a trumpet-like effect,and the refrain of the subalterns and non-commissioned officerscommanding the sections followed in their various clamors, while thegreat whirling congeries of horses and men and wheels and guns obeyedthe sound like some automatic creation of the ingenuity of man. Once thesurgeon bent an attentive ear.

  "By sections--break from the right to march to left!" called thecommander, with a sudden "catch" in the tones.

  "Caissons forward! Trot! March!" came from a different voice.

  "Section forward, guide left!" thundered a basso profundo.

  "March!" cried the captain, sharply.

  "March!" came the subaltern's echo.

  As the moving panorama turned and wheeled and shifted, the surgeoncommented in a spirit of forecast:--

  "If that fellow doesn't pay some attention to his bronchial tubes, theywill pay some attention to him, and that promptly."

  So promptly indeed was this prophecy verified that within the next fewdays old Ephraim, who purveyed all the news of the period to the remotesecluded country house, informed Judge Roscoe that Captain Baynell wasseriously ill with bronchitis and threatened with pneumonia. In order tohave indoor protection and treatment he was to be removed as soon aspossible to the hospital near the town. Judge Roscoe verified this rumorupon hastening to camp, and with hospitable warmth he invited the son ofhis old schoolmate to sojourn instead in his house; for in the collegedays to which he was fond of recurring he had been taken into the homeof the elder Fluellen Baynell, and nursed by his friend's mother througha typhoid attack. To repay the obligation thus was peculiarly acceptableto a man of his type. But Baynell hardly heeded the detail of thehospitable precedent. He needed no persuasion, and thereafter he seemedmore than ever lapsed in the serenities of the storm centre, ensconcedin one of the great square upper bedrooms, with the spare furnishing ofheavy mahogany that gave an idea of so much space, the order of the
daywhen the plethora of decoration, the "cosy corner," the wall pocket, the"art drapery," the crowded knickknackery, did not obtain. For more thana week Baynell could not rise; the surgeon visited him at regularintervals, and Judge Roscoe appeared unfailingly each morning in thesick room; but the rest of the family remained invisible, and heldunsympathetically aloof.

  This was a shrewd loss to Ashley, for although he had called at firstwith genuine anxiety as to his friend's state, the humors of thesituation appealed to him as time wore on, and he recollected with theenhanced interest of enforced idleness his boast that he would compassan introduction to Mrs. Gwynn, despite Baynell's stiff refusal. Seymourstill resented the circumstance so seriously that he had withheld allmanifestations of sympathy or concern, and this, the kind Ashleyconsidered, carried the matter much too far. He thought it might effecta general reconciliation if he should meet Mrs. Gwynn by accident, whenhe fancied he would not fear to introduce any one whom he considered fitfor good society. Thus, after he had ceased to be apprehensiveconcerning Baynell's condition, he called on him again and again, buthearing never a light footfall on the stair or the flutter of flouncesthat might promise a realization of his quest. He was all unconsciousthat his project had an unwitting ally in Judge Roscoe himself. For morethan once Judge Roscoe was uncomfortably visited by hospitablemonitions.

  "I should have liked to ask Colonel Ashley to dine with us," he saidtentatively to Mrs. Gwynn. "He was leaving the house just as the mealwas being served. Old Ephraim--confound the old fellow--has no sort oftact. He brought in the soup to Captain Baynell with Colonel Ashleysitting by the bedside! It was indeed a hint to beat a retreat. I was--Iwas mortified. I was really mortified not to ask him to stay."

  "Heavens, Uncle Gerald!--what are you dreaming about? Ask people todine, and no trained servant to wait on the table--and this china--andthe ladies in their pinafores!" And Mrs. Gwynn glanced scoffingly aroundthe domestic board, for the place had once been famous for the eleganceof its entertainments; but the balls, the "wine suppers," the formallate dinners of many courses, had come to an end with the conclusion ofthe period of prosperity, and the perfectly trained service had vanishedwith the vanishing butler and his corps of assistants whom he himselfhad rigorously drilled in the school of the pantry, in strict accordancewith old traditions.

  "Well, we have better china," said the judge, inexorably. "And thepinafores don't grow on the ladies; we have excellent precedent forbelieving they can be dispensed with."

  Mrs. Gwynn fixed him with a resolute eye. "I don't intend to have theladies taken from their studies in the forenoon to dress for company anddistract their minds with fascinating gentlemen. Besides it is too greata compliment to receive an absolute stranger informally, as one ofourselves,--as we treat Captain Baynell,--and it is almost impossibleto entertain Colonel Ashley otherwise. You forget that we have notrained servants. And I am not going to trust the handling of my aunt'sbeautiful old Sevres dinner set to our inexperienced factotum--oh, theidea! It makes me shudder to think of the nicks and smashings. It oughtto be kept intact for Julius's wife when he takes one, or for Clarence'sif he should ever marry again. A stray Yankee officer isn't sufficientjustification for risking it."

  "He has called so often, and has been so kind to Captain Baynell."

  "Well, so have I been kind to Captain Baynell, and here am I eating onthe everyday china--no Sevres for me! And I am going to be kinder still,for he is allowed to have some dessert to-day, and I have spread thistray with mine own hands."

  She touched a call-bell, and, as old Janus appeared, "Take this trayupstairs to Captain Baynell," she said, as she transferred it, "becareful--don't tilt it so!" Then, as the old servant left the room, sheresumed, addressing Judge Roscoe: "You can sentimentalize about yourprecious Captain Baynell, if you like, on the score of old friendship. Ican appreciate the claims of old friendship, especially as he has beenso ill, and possibly was better off here than at the hospital. But to goin generally for entertaining Yankee officers,--and all our near anddear out yonder in those cold wet trenches, half starved, and ragged,and wounded, and dying,--indeed, no! For my own part, I couldn't beinduced to spread a board for another one, except at the point of thebayonet."

  "Colonel Ashley don't wear no bayonet," interposed Adelaide, glibly.

  "He's got him a sword," acceded Geraldine.

  "A long sword, clickety-clank," suggested the first "lady."

  "Clickety, clickety-clank," echoed the other, with brightening eyes.

  "Don't eat with your fingers--nor the spoon; take the fork." Mrs.Gwynn's admonitory aside was hardly an interruption.

  "That is a very narrow view, Leonora," the judge contended. "There canbe no parity between the fervor of convictions on the issues of a greatnational question and merely human predilections as between individuals.Patriotism is not license for rancor. I have shown my devotion to theSouthern cause. I have risked the lives of my dear, dear sons. I haveexpended much in its interests; I have endangered and lost my fortune.The future of all I hold dear is in jeopardy in many aspects. But I _donot_ feel bound for that reason to hate individually everyfellow-creature who has opposite convictions, to which he has a right,and takes up arms to sustain them."

  "Well--_I do_! Being a woman, and having no reasoning capacities, thereis no necessity for me to be logical on the subject. I feel what Ifeel, without qualification. And I know what I know without either legalproof or ocular demonstration. You are welcome to your intellect, UncleGerald! Much good may it do you! Intuition is enough for me. Meantimethe Sevres is safe on the shelves."

  Beaten from the field as Judge Roscoe must needs be when his vauntedratiocination was no available weapon, he held stanchly nevertheless tohis own opinion, helpless though he was in the domestic administration.He adopted such measures as were practicable to comport with his ownview. Flattered by Ashley's interest in Baynell and recognizant of thefrequency of his visits, never dreaming that a glimpse of Mrs. Gwynn wastheir ultimate object, he took occasion to offer him such slightcourtesies as opportunity presented.

  One day when they were descending the stairs Judge Roscoe chanced tocomment on the fine bouquet of a certain choice old wine. He stillhoarded a few costly bottles of an ancient importation, and with asudden thought he insisted on pausing in the library to take a glass andfinish a discussion happily begun by the invalid's bedside. The room wasvacant, as the colonel's keen glance swiftly assured him, and thejudge's order for wine was inaugurated through the bell-cord, whichjangling summons old Ephraim answered somewhat procrastinatingly. Theexpression of surprise in the old darkey's eyes, even admonitorydissuasion, as he hearkened to the demand, very definitely nettled thejudge and secretly amused Ashley, who divined the old servitor's doubtsas to gaining the permission of "de widder 'oman." The host was morerelieved than he cared to acknowledge to himself when the factotumpresently reappeared, bearing a tray, with the old-fashionedred-and-white Bohemian wine-glasses and decanter which contained therare vintage, and he felt with a sigh that he was still supreme in hisown house, despite the sway of Mrs. Gwynn. He recognized the moregratefully, however, her influence in the perfection of the service andthe solemnly careful, preternaturally watchful step of old Ephraim, ashe bore about the delicate glass with all the effect of treading oneggs,--finally depositing it on the table and withdrawing at hishabitual plunging gait.

  Although Ashley dawdled as he listened and sipped his wine languorously,no rustle of draperies rewarded his attentive ear, no graceful presencegladdened his expectant eye. And when at last he could linger no longer,he took up his hope even as he had laid it down, in the expectation of aluckier day.

  "Come again, my dear sir, whenever you can. I am always glad to see you,and your presence cheers Captain Baynell. His father was my dearestfriend. I felt his death as if he had been a brother. I have growngreatly attached to his son, who closely resembles him. Anything you cando for Captain Baynell I appreciate as a personal favor. Come again!Come again soon!"

  Perhaps if
Colonel Ashley had not been so bereft of the normal interestsof life, in this interval of inactivity, his curiosity as to thatfleeting glimpse of a beautiful woman might not have maintained itswhetted edge. Perhaps constantly recurrent disappointment roused hispersistence. He came again and yet again, and still he saw no member ofthe family save Judge Roscoe. Even the surgeon commented. "There is aconsiderable feminine garrison up there," he said one day; "I often hearmention of the ladies, but they never make a sally. I suspect the oldjudge is more of a fire-eater than he shows nowadays, for his womenfolksare evidently straight-out 'Secesh'!"