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THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 i 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 
 OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 
FORT LAFAYETTE; 
 
 OB, 
 
 LOVE AND SECESSION, 
 
 % fffW, 
 
 BY BENJAMIN WOOD 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 Carleto% Publisher^ 413 Broadway^ 
 
 (LATE, RUDD & CARLETON). 
 MDCCCLXII. 
 
Entkbkp according to Act of Congress, in the year ISGS, by 
 G. W. CARLETON, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the DUtrict Court of the United States, for the Southern District 
 of New York. 
 
 W. H. TissoK, Stereotyper, 
 
 R. Craighead, Printer 
 
Whom they please they lay in basest bonds." 
 
 Venice Preserved, 
 
 " O, beauteous Peace ! 
 Sweet union of a state ! what else but thou 
 Gives safety, strength, and glory to a people ?" 
 
 Thomson, 
 
 " Oh, Peace ! thou source and soul of social hfe ; 
 Beneath whose calm inspiring influence. 
 Science his views enlarges, art refines. 
 And sweUing commerce opens all her ports ; 
 Blest be the man divine, who gives us thee !" 
 
 Thomson, 
 
 " A peace is of the nature of a conquest ; 
 For then both parties nobly are subdued. 
 And neither party loser." 
 
 Shakspeare, 
 
 603324 
 
FORT LAFAYETTE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 LOVE AND SECESSION. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 There is a pleasant villa on the soiitliern bank 
 of the James River, a few miles below the city 
 of Richmond. The family mansion, an old 
 fashioned building of white stone, surrounded 
 by a spacious veranda, and embowered among 
 stately elms and grave old oaks, is sure to at- 
 tract the attention of the traveller by its pic- 
 turesque appearance, and the dreamy elegance 
 and air of comfort that pervade the spot. The 
 volumes of smoke that roll from the tall chim- 
 neys, the wide portals of the hall, flung open as 
 if for a sign of welcome, the merry chat and 
 
8 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 cheerful faces of the sable hoiisehokl, lazily 
 alternating their domestic labors with a sly 
 romp or a lounge in some quiet nook, these and 
 other traits of the old Yirginia home, complete 
 the picture of hospitable affluence which the 
 stranger instinctively draws as his gaze lingers 
 on the grateful scene. The house stands on a 
 wooded knoll, within a bowshot of the river 
 bank, and from the steps of the back veranda, 
 where creeping flowers form a perfumed net- 
 work of a thousand hues, the velvety iawn 
 shelves gracefully down to the water's edge. 
 
 Toward sunset of one of the early days of 
 April, 1861, a young girl stood leaning upon 
 the wicket of a fence which separated the 
 garden from the highway. She stood there 
 dreamily gazing along the road, as if awaiting 
 the approach of some one who would be welcome 
 when he came. The slanting rays of the de- 
 clining sun glanced through the honeysuckles 
 and tendrils that intertwined among the white 
 palings, and thi-ew a subdued light upon her 
 face. It was a face that was beautiful in repose, 
 but that promised to be more beautiful when 
 awakened into animation. The large, grey eyes 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 9 
 
 were half veiled with their black lashes at that 
 moment, and their expression was thoughtful 
 and subdued ; but ever as the lids were raised, 
 when some distant sound arrested her attention, 
 the expression changed with a sudden flash, and 
 a gleam like an electric fire darted from the 
 glowing orbs. Her features were small and 
 delicately cut, the nostrils thin and firm, and 
 the lips most exquisitely molded, but in the 
 severe chiselling of their arched lines betraying 
 a somewhat passionate and haughty nature. But 
 the rose tint was so warm upon her cheek, the 
 raven hair clustered with such luxuriant grace 
 about her brows, and the :petite and lithe figure 
 was so symmetrical at every point, that the 
 impression of haughtiness was lost in the con- 
 templation of so many charms. 
 
 Oriana Weems, the subject of our sketch, was 
 an orphan. Her father, a wealthy Yirginian, 
 died while his daughter was yet an infant, and 
 her mother, who had been almost constantly an 
 invalid, did not long survive. Oriana and her 
 brother, Beverly, her senior by two years, had 
 thus been left at an early age in the charge of 
 their mother's sister, a maiden lady oi excellent 
 
10 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 heart and quiet disposition, wlio certainly had 
 most conscientiously fulfilled tlie sacred trust. 
 Oriana had returned but a twelvemonth before 
 from a northern seminary, where she had gath- 
 ered up more accomplishments than she would 
 ever be likely to make use of in the old home- 
 stead ; while Beverly, having graduated at Yale 
 the preceding month, had written to his sister 
 that she might expect him that very day, in 
 company with his classmate and friend, Arthur 
 Wayne. 
 
 She stood, therefore, at the wicket, gazing 
 down the road, in expectation of catching the 
 first glimpse of her brother and his friend, for 
 whom horses had been sent to Richmond, to 
 await their arrival at the depot. So much was 
 she absorbed in revery, that she failed to ob- 
 serve a solitary horseman who approached from 
 the opposite direction. He plodded leisurely 
 along until within a few feet of the wicket, 
 when he quietly drew rein and gazed for a mo- 
 ment in silence upon the unconscious girl. He 
 was a tall, gaunt man, with stooping shoulders, 
 angular features, lank, black hair and a sinister 
 expression, in which cunning and malice com- 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. H 
 
 bined. He finally urged his horse a step nearer, 
 and as softly as his rough voice wouM admit, he 
 bade : " Good evening, Miss Oriana." 
 
 She started, and turned with a suddenness 
 that caused the animal he rode to swerve. Ec- 
 covering her composure as suddenly, she slightly 
 inclined her head and turning from him, pro- 
 ceeded toward the house. 
 
 " Stay, Miss Oriana, if you please." 
 She paused and glanced somewhat haughtily 
 over her shoulder. 
 
 " May I speak a word with you ?" 
 " My aunt, sir, is within ; if you have busi- 
 ness, I will inform her of your presence." 
 
 " My business is with you, Miss Weems," and, 
 dismounting, he passed through the gate and 
 stepped quickly to her side. 
 " Why do you avoid me ?" 
 Her dark eye flashed in the twilight, and she 
 drew her slight form up till it seemed to gain a 
 foot in height. 
 
 " We do not seek to enlarge our social circle, 
 
 Mr. Eawbon. You will excuse me if I leave 
 
 you abruptly, but the night dew begins to fall." 
 
 She moved on, but he followed and placed his 
 
12 FOET LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 Land gently on lier arm. She shook it off with 
 more of fierceness than dignity, and the man's 
 eves fairly sought the ground beneath the glance 
 she gave him. 
 
 " You know that I love you," he said, in a 
 hoarse murmur, " and that's the reason you treat 
 me like a dog." 
 
 She turned her back upon him, and walked, 
 as if she heard him not, along the garden path. 
 His brow darkened, and quickening his pace, he 
 stepped rudely before her and blocked the way. 
 
 " Look you. Miss Weems, you have insulted 
 me with your proud ways time and time again, 
 and I have borne it tamely, because I loved 
 you, and because I've sworn that I shall have 
 you. It's that puppy, Harold Hare, that has 
 stepped in between you and me. Kow mark 
 you," and he raised his finger threateningly, 
 " I won't be so meek with him as I've been 
 wdth you." 
 
 The girl shuddered slightly, but recovering, 
 walked forward with a step so stately and com- 
 manding, that Itawbon, bold and angry as he 
 was, involuntarily made way for her, and she 
 sprang up the steps of the veranda and passed 
 
LOVE AXD SECESSION. 18 
 
 into the liall. He stood gazing after her for a 
 moment, nervously switching the rosebush at his 
 side with his heavy horsewhip ; then, with a 
 muttered curse, he strode hastily away, and 
 leaping upon his horse, galloped furiously down 
 the road. 
 
 Seth Kawbon was a native of Massachusetts, 
 but for some ten years previously to the date at 
 which our tale commences, he had been mostly 
 a resident of Richmond, where his acuteness and 
 active business habits had enabled him to accu- 
 mulate an independent fortune. His wealth 
 and vigorous progressive spirit had given him a 
 certain degree of influence among the middle 
 classes of the community, but his uncouth man- 
 ner, and a suspicion that he was not altogether 
 free from the degradation of slave-dealing, had, 
 to his great mortification and in spite of his 
 persistent efforts, excluded him from social 
 intercourse with the aristocracy of the Old 
 Dominion. He was not a man, however, to 
 give way to obstacles, and with characteristic 
 vanity and self-reliance, he had, shortly after 
 her return from school, greatly astonished the 
 proud Oriana with a bold declaration of love 
 
14 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 and an offer of his hand and fortune. Not 
 intimidated by a sharp and decidedly ungra- 
 cious refusal, he had at every opportunity 
 advocated his hopeless suit, and with so much 
 persistence and effrontery, that the object of his 
 unwelcome passion had been goaded from indif- 
 ference to repugnance and absolute loathing. 
 Harold Hare, whose name he had mentioned 
 with so much bitterness in the course of the 
 interview we have represented, was a young 
 Khode Islander, who had, upon her brother's 
 invitation, sojourned a few weeks at the man- 
 sion some six months previously, while on his 
 way to engage in a surveying expedition in 
 Western Virginia. He had promised to return 
 in good time, to join Beverly and his guest, 
 Arthur Wayne, at the close of their academic 
 labors. 
 
 A few moments after Kawbon's angry depar- 
 ture, the family carriage drove rapidly up to 
 the hall door, and the next instant Beverly was 
 in his sister's arms, and had been affectionately 
 welcomed by his old-fashioned, kindly looking 
 aunt.- As he turned to introduce his friend, 
 Arthur, the latter was gazing with an air of 
 
LOVE AXD SECESSIOX. ' 15 
 
 absent admiration upon the kindled features of 
 Oriana. The two young men were of the same 
 age, apparently about one-and-twenty ; but in 
 character and appearance they were widely 
 difierent. Beverly was, in countenance and 
 manner, curiously like his sister, except that the 
 features were bolder and more strongly marked. 
 Arthur, on the contrary, was delicate in feature 
 almost to effeminacy. His brow was pale and 
 lofty, and above the auburn locks were massed 
 like a golden coronet. His eyes were very large 
 and blue, with a peculiar softness and sadness 
 that suited well the expression of thoughtfulness 
 and repose about his lips. He was taller than 
 his friend, and although well-formed and grace- 
 ful, was slim and evidently not in robust health. 
 His voice, as he spoke in acknowledgment of 
 the introduction, was low and musical, but 
 touched with a mournfulness that was apparent 
 even in the few words of conventional courtesy 
 that he pronounced. 
 
 Having thus domiciliated them comfortably 
 in the old hall, we will leave them to recover 
 from the fatigues of the journey, and to taste of 
 the i^lentiful hospitalities of Eiverside manor. 
 
IG rORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Eaely in the fresli April morning, the party 
 at Riverside manor were congregated in the 
 hall, doing full justice to Aunt Nancy's substan- 
 tial breakfast. 
 
 " Oriana," said Beverly, as he paused from 
 demolishing a well-buttered batter cake, and 
 handed his cup for a second supply of the fra- 
 grant Mocha, "I will leave it to your savow 
 faille to transform our friend Arthur into a 
 thorough southerner, before we yield him back 
 to his Green Mountains. He is already half a 
 convert to our institutions, and will give you not 
 half so much trouble as that obstinate Harold 
 Hare." 
 
 She slightly colored at the name, but quietly 
 remarked : 
 
 " Mr. Wayne must look about him and judge 
 from his own observation, not my arguments. 
 I certainly do not intend to annoy him during 
 liis visit, with political discussions." 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 17 
 
 " And yet you drove Harold wild with your 
 flaming harangues, and gave him more logic in 
 an afternoon ride than he had ever been bored 
 with in Cambridge in a month." 
 
 " Only when he provoked and invited the 
 assault," she replied, smiling. "But I trust, 
 Mr. Wayne, that the cloud which is gathering 
 above our country will not darken the sunshine 
 of your visit at Eiverside manor. It is unfor- 
 tunate that you should have come at an unpro- 
 pitious moment, when we cannot promise you 
 that perhaps there will not be some cold looks 
 here and there among the townsfolk, to give you 
 a false impression of a Yirginia welcome." 
 
 " IS'ot at all, Oriana ; Arthur will have smiles 
 and welcome enough here at the manor house to 
 make him proof against all the hard looks in 
 Richmond. I prevailed on him to come at all 
 hazards, and we are bound to have a good time 
 and don't want you to discourage us ; eh, Ar- 
 thur.?" 
 
 '' I am but little of a politician. Miss Weems," 
 said Arthur, "although I take our country's 
 differences much at heart. I shall surely not 
 provoke discussion with you, like our friend 
 
18 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 Harold, upon an unpleasant subject, while you 
 give me carte hlanche to enjoy your conversa- 
 tion upon themes more congenial to my nature." 
 
 She inclined her head with rather more of 
 gravity than the nature of the conversation 
 warranted, and her lips were slightly com- 
 pressed as she observed that Arthur's blue 
 eyes were fixed pensively, but intently, on her 
 face. 
 
 The meal being over, Oriana and "Wayne 
 strolled on the lawn toward the river bank, 
 while the carriage was being prepared for a 
 morning di'ive. They stood on the soft grass at 
 the water's edge, and as Arthur gazed with a 
 glow of pleasm*e at the beautiful prospect 
 before him, his fair companion pointed out with 
 evident pride the many objects of beauty and 
 interest that were within view on the opj^osite 
 bank. 
 
 " Are you a sailor, Mr. Wayne ? If so, we 
 must have out the boat this afternoon, and you 
 will find some fairy nooks beyond the bend 
 that will repay you for exploring them, if you 
 have a taste for a lovely waterscape. I know 
 you are proud of the grand old hills of your 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 19 
 
 native State, but we have Bomething to boast of 
 too in our Virginia scenery." 
 
 " K you will be my helmswoman, I can 
 imagine nothing more delightful than the ex- 
 cui'sion you propose. But I am inland bred, 
 and must place myself at the mercy of your 
 nautical experience." 
 
 "Oh, I am a skillful captain, Mr. Wayne, 
 and will make a good sailor of you before you 
 leave us. Mr. Hare will tell you that I am to 
 be trusted with the helm, even when the wind 
 blows right smartly, as it sometimes does even 
 on that now placid stream. But with his 
 memories of the magnificent Hudson, he was 
 too prone to quiz me about what he called our 
 pretty rivulet. You know him, do you not ?" 
 
 " Oh, well. He was Beverly's college-mate 
 and mine, though somewhat our senior." 
 
 " And your warm friend, I believe ?" 
 
 " Yes, and well worthy our friendship. Some- 
 what high-tempered and quick-spoken, but with 
 a heart — ^like your brother's, Miss "Weems, as 
 generous and frank as a summer day." 
 
 "I do not tliink him high-tempered beyond 
 the requisites of manhood," she replied, with 
 
20 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 sometliing like asperity in her tone. " I cannot 
 endure your meek, mild mannered men, who 
 seem to forget their sex, and almost make me 
 long to change my own with them, that their 
 sweet dispositions may be better placed." 
 
 He glanced at her with a somewhat sui-prised 
 air, that brought a slight blush to her cheek ; 
 but he seemed unconscious of it, and said, almost 
 mechanically : 
 
 " And yet, that same high spirit, which you 
 prize so dearly, had, in his case, almost caused 
 you a severe affliction." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " Have you not heard how curiously Beverly's 
 intimacy with Harold was brought about ? 
 And yet it was not likely that he should have 
 told you, although I know no harm in letting 
 you know." 
 
 She turned toward him with an air of atten- 
 tion, as if in expectation. 
 
 " It was simply this. ]N'ot being class-mates, 
 they had been almost strangers to each other at 
 college, until, by a mere accident, an argument 
 respecting your Southern institutions led to an 
 angry dispute, and harsh words passed between 
 
LOVE AXD SECESSION. 22 
 
 tliem. Being both of the ardent temperament 
 jon so much admire, a challenge ensued, and, 
 in spite of my entreaty and remonstrance, a 
 duel. Your brother was seriously wounded, 
 and Harold, shocked beyond expression, knelt 
 by his side as he lay bleeding on the sward, and 
 bitterly accusing himself, begged his forgive- 
 ness, and, I need not add, received it frankly. 
 Harold was unremitting in his attentions to 
 your brother during the period of his illness, 
 and from the day of that hostile meeting, the 
 most devoted friendship has existed between 
 them. But it was an idle quarrel. Miss Weems, 
 and was near to have cost you an only brother." 
 
 She remained silent for a few moments, and 
 was evidently affected by the recital. Then she 
 spoke, softly as if communing with herself : 
 " Harold is a brave and noble fellow, and I 
 thank God that he did* not kill my brother!" 
 and a bright tear rolled upon her cheek. She 
 dashed it away, almost angrily, and glancing 
 steadily at Arthur : 
 ^Do you condemn duelling?" 
 
 " Assuredly." 
 
 "But what would you have men do in the 
 
22 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 face of insult? "Would you not have fought 
 under the same provocation ?" 
 
 " JS'o, nor under any provocation. I hold too 
 sacred the life that God has given. With 
 God's helj), I shall not shed human blood, ex- 
 cept in the strict line of necessity and duty." 
 
 "It is evident, sir, that you hold youi* own 
 life most sacred," she said, with a curl of her 
 proud lip that was unmistakable. 
 
 She did not observe the pallor that over- 
 spread his features, nor the expression, not of 
 anger, but of anguish, that settled upon his 
 face, for she had turned half away from him, 
 and was gazing vacantly across the river. 
 There was an unpleasant pause, which was 
 broken by the noise of voices in alarm near 
 the house, the trampling of hoofs, and the rattle 
 of wheels. 
 
 The carriage had been standing at the door, 
 while Beverly was arranging some casual busi- 
 ness, which delayed him in his rooms. "While the 
 attention of the groom in charge had been at- 
 racted by some freak of his companions, a nftle 
 black urchin, not over five years of age, had 
 clambered unnoticed into the vehicle^ and seizing 
 
r 
 
 LOVE AND SECESSION. 23 
 
 the long whip, began to flourish it about with 
 all his baby strength. The horses, which were 
 high bred and spirited, had become impatient, 
 and feeling the lash, started suddenly, jerking 
 themselves free from the careless grasp of the 
 inattentive groom. The sudden shout of sur- 
 prise and terror that arose from the group of 
 idle negroes, startled the animals into a gallop, 
 and they went coursing, not along the road, 
 but upon the lawn, straight toward the river 
 bank, which, in the line of their course, was 
 precipitous and rocky. As Oriana and Arthur 
 turned at the sound, they beheld the frightened 
 steeds plunging across the lawn, and upon the 
 carriage seat the little fellow who had caused 
 the miscMpf was crouching bewildered and 
 helpless, j|^d screaming with affright. Oriana 
 clasped her hands, and cried tearfully : 
 " Oh ! poor little Pomp will be killed !" 
 In fact the danger was Imminent, for the 
 lawn at 'that spot merged into a rocfey space, 
 forming a little bluff which overhung .liie 
 st»m some fifteen feet. Oriana's hand was 
 laflr instinctively upon Arthur's shoulder, and 
 with the other she pointed, with a gesture of 
 
 '\ 
 
24 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 bewildered anxiety, at the approacliing vehicle. 
 Arthur paused only long enongh to understand 
 the situation, and then stepping calmly a few 
 paces to the left, stood directly in the path of 
 the rushing steeds. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Wayne ! no, no !" cried Oriana, in 
 a tone half of fear and half supplication ; but 
 he stood thei-^ unmoved, with the same quiet, 
 mournful expression that he habitually wore. 
 The horses faltered somewhat when they became 
 conscious of this fixed, calm figure directly in 
 their course. They would have turned, but 
 their impetus was too great, and they swerved 
 only enough to bring the head of the ofi" horse 
 in a line Avith Arthur's body. As coolly as if 
 he was taking up a favorite book, but with a 
 rapid movement, he grasped the rein below the 
 bit with both hands firmly, and swung upon 
 it with his wliole weight. The frightened ani- 
 mal turned half round, stumbled, and rolled 
 upon his side, his mate falling upon his knees 
 beside him ; tlie carriage was overturned with 
 a crash, and little Pompey pitched out upofthe 
 greensward, unhurt. 
 
 By this time, Beverly, followed by a 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 25 
 
 crowd of excited negroes, had reached the 
 spot. 
 
 "How is it, Arthur," said Beverly, placing 
 his hand affectionately on his friend's shoulder, 
 " are you hurt ?" 
 
 *' IS'o," he replied, the melancholy look soften- 
 ing into a pleasant smile ; but as he rose and 
 adjusted his disordered dress, he coughed pain- 
 fully—the same dry, hacking cougli that had 
 often made those who loved him turn to him 
 witli an anxious look. It was evident that his 
 delicate frame was ill suited to such rough 
 exercise. 
 
 '' We shall be cheated out of our ride this 
 morning," said Beverly, "for that axle has been 
 less fortunate than you, Arthur ; it is seriously 
 hurt." 
 
 They moved slowly toward the house, Oriana 
 looking silently at the grass as she walked 
 mechanically at her brother's side. When 
 Arthur descended into the drawing-room, after 
 having clianged his soiled apparel, he found 
 her seated there alone, by the casement, with 
 her brow upon her hand. He sat down at the 
 table and glanced abstractedly over the leaves 
 
 2 
 
26 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 of a scrap-book. Thus tliey sat silently for a 
 quarter hour, when she arose, and stood beside 
 him. 
 
 " Will you forgive me, Mr. Wayne ?" 
 
 He looked up and saw that she had been 
 weeping. The haughty curl of the lip and 
 proud look from the eye were all gone, and 
 her expression was of humility and sorrow. 
 She held out her hand to him with an air 
 almost of entreaty. He raised it respectfully 
 to his lips, and with the low, musical voice, 
 sadder than ever before, he said : 
 
 " I am sorry that you should grieve about 
 anything. There is nothing to forgive. Let us 
 forget it." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Wayne, how unkind I have been, 
 and how cruelly I have wronged you !" 
 
 She pressed his hand between both her palms 
 for a moment, and looked into his face, as if 
 studying to read if some trace of resentment 
 were not visible. But the blue eyes looked 
 down kindly and mournfully upon her, and 
 bursting into tears, she turned from him, and 
 hurriedly left the room. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 27 
 
 CHAPTEK in. 
 
 The incident related in the preceding chapter 
 seemed to have effected a marked change in the 
 demeanor of Oriana toward her brother's guest. 
 She realized with painful force the wrong that 
 her thoughtlessness, more than her malice, had 
 inflicted on a noble character, and it required 
 all of Arthur's winning sweetness of disposition 
 to remove from her mind the impression that 
 she stood, while in his presence, in the light of 
 an unforgiven culprit. They were necessarily 
 much in each other's company, in the course of 
 the many rambles and excursions that were 
 devised to relieve the monotony of the old 
 manor house, and Oriana was surprised to feel 
 herself insensibly attracted toward the shy and 
 pensive man, whose character, so far as it was 
 betrayed by outward sign, was the very reverse 
 of her own impassioned temperament. She dis- 
 covered that the unruffled surface covered an 
 under-current of pure thought and exquisite feel- 
 
28 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 ing, and when, on tlie bosom of the river, or in 
 the solitudes of the forest, his spirit threw off its 
 reserve under the spell of nature's inspiration, 
 she felt her own impetuous organization rebuked 
 and held in awe bj the simple and quiet gran- 
 deur that his eloquence revealed. 
 
 One afternoon, some two weeks after his arrival 
 at the Kiverside manor, while returning from a 
 canter in the neighborhood, thej paused upon 
 an eminence that overlooked a portion of the 
 city of Eichmond. There, upon an open space, 
 could be seen a great number of the citizens 
 assembled, apparently listening to the harangue 
 of an orator. The occasional cheer that arose 
 from the multitude faintly reached their ears, 
 and that mass of humanity, restless, turbulent 
 and excited, seemed, even at that distance, to be 
 swayed by some mighty passion. 
 
 " Look, Miss Weems," said Arthur, " at this 
 magnificent circle of gorgeous scenery, that you 
 are so justly proud of, that lies around you in 
 the golden sunset like a dream of a fairy land- 
 scape. See how the slanting rays just tip the 
 crest of that distant ridge, making it glow like a 
 coronet of gold, and then, leaping into the river 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 29 
 
 beneath, spangle its bosom with dazzling sheen, 
 save where a part rests in the purple shadow of 
 the mountain. Look to the right, and sec how 
 those crimson clouds seem bending from heaven 
 to kiss the yellow corn-fields that stretch along 
 the horizon. And at jour feet, the city of Rich- 
 mond extends along the valley." 
 
 '^ We admit the beauty of the scene and the 
 accuracy of the description," said Beverly, '^ but, 
 for my part, I should prefer the less romantic 
 view of some of Aunt JS'ancy's batter-cakes, for 
 this ride has famished me." 
 
 " IS'ow look below," continued Arthur, " at 
 that swarm of human beings clustering together 
 like angry bees. As we stand here gazing at 
 the glorious pageant which nature spreads out 
 before us, one might suppose that only for some 
 festival of rejoicing or thanksgiving would men 
 assemble at such an hour and in such a scene. 
 But what are the beauties of the landscape, 
 bathed in the glories of the setting-sun, to them ? 
 They have met to listen to words of passion and 
 bitterness, to doctrines of strife, to denunciations 
 and criminations against their fellow-men. And, 
 doubtless, a similar scene of freemen invoking 
 
30 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 the spirit of contention tliat "we behold yonder 
 in that pleasant vallej of the Old Dominion, is 
 being enacted at the Korth and at the South, at 
 the East and at the West, all over the length 
 and breadth of our country. The seeds of dis- 
 cord are being carefully and persistently gath- 
 ered and disseminated, and on both sides, these 
 erring mortals will claim to be acting in the 
 name of patriotism. Beverly, do you surmise 
 nothing ominous of evil in that gathering ?" 
 
 " Ten to one, some stirring news from Charles- 
 ton. "We must ride over after supper, Arthur, 
 and learn the upshot of it." 
 
 " And I will be a sybil for the nonce," said 
 Oriana, with a kindling eye, " and prophecy 
 that Southern cannon have opened upon Sumter." 
 
 In the evening, in despite of a threatening 
 sky, Arthur and Beverly mounted their horses 
 and galloped toward Eichmond. As they ap- 
 proached the city, the rain fell heavily and they 
 sought shelter at a wayside tavern. Observing 
 the public room to be full, they passed into a 
 private parlor and ordered some slight refresh- 
 ment. In the adjoining tap-room they could 
 hear the voices of excited men, discussing some 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 3I 
 
 topic of absorbing interest. Their anticipations 
 were realized, for they quickly gathered from 
 the tenor of the disjointed conversation that the 
 bombardment of Fort Sumter had begun. 
 
 " I'll bet my pile," said a rough voice, " that 
 the gridiron bunting won't float another day 
 in South Carolina." 
 
 " I'll go you halves on that, boss, and you 
 and I won't grow greyer nor we be, before Old 
 Yirginny says ' me too.' " 
 
 " Seth Rawbon, you'd better be packing your 
 traps for Massachusetts. She'll want you afore 
 long." 
 
 " Boys," ejaculated the last-mentioned per- 
 sonage, with an oath, '^ I left off being a Massa- 
 cbusetts man twelve years ago. I'm with you, 
 and you know it. Let's drink. Boys, here's to 
 s]3unky little South Carolina ; may she go in and 
 win ! Stranger, what'll you drink ?" 
 
 " I will not drink," replied a clear, manly 
 voice, which had been silent till then. 
 
 " And why will you not drink ?" rejoined the 
 other, mocking the dignified and determined 
 tone in which the invitation was refused. 
 
 " It is sufficient tliat I will not." 
 
^ FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 " Majliap you don't like my sentiment ?" 
 
 '' Eight." 
 
 " Look yon, Mr. Harold Hare, I know you 
 well, and I think we'll take yon down from your 
 high horse before yon're many honrs older in 
 these parts. Boys, let's make him drink to 
 Sonth Carolina." 
 
 " Who is he, anyhow ?" 
 
 " He's an abolitionist ; just the kind that'll 
 look a darned sight more natural in a coat of 
 tar and feathers. Cut out his heart and you'll 
 find John Brown's j)icture there as large as life." 
 
 At the mention of Harold's name, Arthur 
 and Beverly had started up simultaneously, and 
 throwing open the bar-room door, entered hastily. 
 Harold had risen from his seat and stood con- 
 fronting Hawbon with an air in which anger 
 and contempt were strangely blended. The latter 
 leaned with awkward carelessness against the 
 counter, sipping a glass of spirits and water with 
 a malicious smile. 
 
 " You are an insolent scoundrel," said Harold, 
 " and I would horsewhip you, if you were worth 
 the pains." 
 
 Rawbon looked around and for a second seemed 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 33 
 
 to study the faces of those about him. Tlien 
 Lizily reaching o^r toward Harold, he took 
 him by tlie arm and drew him toward the 
 counter. 
 
 " Say, you just come and drink to South 
 Carolina." 
 
 The heavy horsewhip in Harold's hand rose 
 suddenly and descended like a flash. The 
 knotted lash struck Rawbon full in the mouth, 
 splitting the lips like a knife. In an instant 
 several knives were drawn, and Rawbon, splut- 
 tering an oath through the spurting blood that 
 choked his utterance, drew a revolver from its 
 holster at his side. 
 
 Tlie entrance of the two young men was 
 timely. They immediately placed themselves 
 in front of Harold, and Arthur, with his usual 
 mild expression, looked full in Rawbon's eye, 
 although the latter's pistol was in a line with 
 his breast. 
 
 " Stand out of the way, you two," shouted 
 Eawbon, savagely. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this, gentlemen ?" 
 said Beverly, quietly, to the excited bystanders, 
 to several of whom he was personally known 
 
 2* 
 
34 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 " Squire Weems," replied one among them, 
 " jon had better stand aside* Rawbon lias a 
 lien on that fellow's hide. He's an abolitionist, 
 anyhow, and ain't worth your interference." 
 
 " He is my very intimate friend, and I will 
 answer for him to any one here," said Beverly, 
 warmly. 
 
 '' I will answer for myself," said Hare, press- 
 ing forward. 
 
 '' Hien answer that !" yelled Rawbon, level- 
 ling and shooting with a rapid movement. 
 But "Wayne's quiet eye had been riveted upon 
 him all the while, and he had thrown up the 
 ruffian's arm as he pulled the trigger.^ 
 
 Beverly's eyes flashed like live coals, and he 
 sprang at Rawbon's throat, but the crowd 
 pressed between them, and for a while the 
 utmost confusion prevailed, but no blows were 
 struck. The landlord, a sullen, black-browed 
 man, who had hitherto leaned silently on the 
 counter, taking no part in the fray, now inter- 
 posed. 
 
 " Come, 1 don't want no more loose shooting 
 here !" and, by way of assisting his remark, he 
 took down his double-barrelled shot-gun and 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 35 
 
 jumped upon the counter. The fellow was 
 well known for a desperate though not quarrel- 
 some character, and lils action had the effect of 
 somewhat quieting the excited crowd. 
 
 " Boys," continued he, " it's only Yankee 
 against Yankee, anyhow ; if they're gwine to 
 light, let the stranger have fair play. Here 
 stranger, if you're a friend of Squire W"eems, 
 you kin have a fair show in my house, I reckon, 
 so take hold of this," and taking a revolver from 
 his belt, he passed it to Beverly, who cocked 
 it and slipped it into Harold's hand. Rawbon, 
 who throughout the confusion had been watch- 
 ing for the opportunity of a shot at his antago- 
 nist, now found himself front to front with the 
 object of his hate, for the bystanders had in- 
 stinctively drawn back a space, and even Wayne 
 and Weems, willing to trust to their friend's 
 coolness and judgment, had stepped aside. 
 
 Harold sighted his man as coolly as if he had 
 been aiming at a squirrel. Bawbon did not 
 flinch, for he was not wanting in physical 
 courage, but he evidently concluded that the 
 chances were against him, and with a bitter 
 smile, he walked slowly toward the door. Turn- 
 
30 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 ing at the tliresliold, he scowled for a moment at 
 Harold, as if hesitating whether to accej^t the 
 encounter. 
 
 " I'll fix you jet," he finally muttered, and 
 left the room. A few moments afterward, the 
 three friends were mounted and riding briskly 
 toward Eiverside manor. 
 
LOVE AXD SECESSION. 3^ 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Oeiana, after awaiting till a late hour the 
 return of her brother and his friend, had retired 
 to rest, and was sleeping soundly when the party 
 entered the house, after their remarkable adven- 
 ture. She was therefore unconscious, upon 
 descending from her apartment in the morning, 
 of the addition to her little household. Stand- 
 ing upon the veranda, she perceived what she 
 supposed to be her brother's form moving 
 among the shrubbery in the garden. She 
 hastened to accost him, curious to ascertain the 
 nature of the excitement in Richmond on the 
 preceding afternoon. Great was her astonish- 
 ment and unfeigned her pleasure, upon turning 
 a little clump of bushes, to find herself face to 
 face with Harold Hare. 
 
 He had been lost in meditation, but upon 
 seeing her his brow lit up as a midnight sky 
 brightens when a passing cloud has unshrouded 
 the full moon. With a cry of joy she held out 
 
38 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 both her hands to him, which he pressed silently 
 for a moment as he gazed tenderly upon the 
 upturned, smiling face, and then, pushing back 
 the black tresses, he touched her white forehead 
 with his lips. 
 
 Arthur Wayne was looking out from his 
 lattice above, and his eye chanced to turn that 
 way at the moment of the meeting. He started 
 as if struck with a sudden pang, and his cheek, 
 always pale, became of an ashen hue. Long he 
 gazed with labored breath upon the pair, as if 
 unable to realize what he had seen ; then, with 
 a suppressed moan, he sank into a chair, and 
 leaned his brow heavily upon his hand. Thus 
 for half an hour he remained motionless ; it was 
 only after a second summons that he roused 
 himself and descended to the morning meal. 
 
 At the breakfast table Oriana was in high 
 spirits, and failed to observe that Arthur was 
 more sad than usual. Her brother, however, 
 was preoccupied and thoughtful, and even 
 Harold, although happy in the society of one he 
 loved, could not refrain from moments of abstrac- 
 tion. Of course the adventure of the preceding 
 night was concealed from Oriana, but it yet 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 39 
 
 furnished the young men with matter for 
 reflection; and, coupled with the exciting intelli- 
 gence from South Carolina, it suggested, to 
 Harold especially, a vision of an unhappy 
 future. It was natural that the thought should 
 obtrude itself of how soon a barrier might be 
 placed between friends and loved ones, and the 
 most sacred ties sundered, perhaps forever. 
 
 Miss Randolph, Oriana's aunt, usually re- 
 served and silent, seemed on this occasion the 
 most inquisitive and talkative of the party. 
 Her interest in the momentous turn that affairs 
 had taken was naturally aroused, and she 
 questioned the young men closely as to their 
 view of the probable consequences. 
 
 " Surely," she remarked, " a nation of Chris- 
 tian people will choose some alternative other 
 than the sword to adjust their differences." 
 
 " Wliy, aunt," replied Oriana, with spirit, 
 "what better weapon than the sword for the 
 oppressed ?" 
 
 " I feal* there is treason lurking in that little 
 heart of yours," said Harold, with a pensive 
 smile. 
 
 " I am a true Southerner, Mr. Hare ; and if 
 
40 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 I were a man, I would take down my father's 
 rifle and march into General Beauregard's 
 camp. We have been too long anathematized 
 as the vilest of God's creatures, because we 
 will not turn over to the world's cold charity 
 the helpless beings that were bequeathed into 
 our charge by our fathers. I would protect my 
 slave against Northern fanaticism as firmly as 
 I would guard my children from the interfer- 
 ence of a stranger, were I a mother." 
 
 " The government against which you would 
 rebel," said Harold, " contemplates no interfer- 
 ence with your slaves." 
 
 " Why, Mr. Hare," rejoined Oriana, warmly, 
 " we of the South can see the spirit of abolitiou- 
 ism sitting in the executive chair, as plainly as 
 we see the sunshine on an unclouded summer 
 day. As well might we change places with our 
 bondmen, as submit to this deliberate crusade 
 against our institutions. Mr. Wayne, you are a 
 man not prone to prejudice, I sincerely believe. 
 Would you from your heart assert that this 
 government is not hostile to Southern slavery ?" 
 
 " I believe you are, on both sides, too sensi- 
 tive upon the unhappy subject. You are breed- 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 41 
 
 ing danger, and perliaps ruin, out of abstract 
 ideas, and civil war will have laid the country 
 waste before either party will have awakened 
 to a knowledge that no actual cause of conten- 
 tion exists." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Beverly, " the mere fact that 
 the two sections are hostile in sentiment, is the 
 best reason why they should be hostile in deed, 
 if a separation can only be accomplished by 
 force of arms." 
 
 " And do you really fancy," said Harold, 
 sharply, "that a separation is possible, in the 
 face of the opposition of twenty millions of 
 loyal citizens ?" 
 
 " Yes," interrupted Oriana, " in the face of 
 the opjDosing world. We established our right 
 to self-government in 1776; and in 1861 we 
 are prepared to prove our power to sustain that 
 right." 
 
 " You are a young enthusiast," said Harold, 
 smiling. " This rebellion will be crushed before 
 the flowers in that garden shall be touched w4th 
 the earliest frost." 
 
 " I think you have formed a false' estimate of 
 the movement," remarked Beverly, gravely ; 
 
42 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 *^ or rather, you have not fully considered of the 
 subject." 
 
 " Harold," said Arthur, sadly, " I regret, and 
 perhaps censure, equally with yourself, the pre- 
 cipitancy of our Carolinian brothers ; but this 
 is not an age, nor a country, where six millions 
 of freeborn people can be controlled by bayo- 
 nets and cannon." 
 
 They were about rising from the table, when 
 a servant announced that some gentlemen 
 desired to speak with Mr. "Weems in private. 
 He passed into the drawing-room, and found 
 himself in the presence of three men, two of 
 whom he recognized as small farmers of the 
 neighborhood, and the other as the landlord of a 
 public house. With a brief salutation, he seated 
 himself beside them, and after a few common- 
 place remarks, paused, as if to learn their busi- 
 ness with him. 
 
 After a little somewhat awkward hesitation, 
 the publican broke silence. 
 
 ^' Squire Weems, we've called about a rather 
 unpleasant sort of business " 
 
 " The sooner we transact it, then, the better 
 for all, I fancy, gentlemen." 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 43 
 
 " Just 80. Old Judge "Weems, vour father, 
 was a true Yirginian, squire, and we know you 
 are of the right sort, too." Beverly bowed in 
 acknowledgment of the compliment. " Squire, 
 the boys hereabouts met down thar at my house 
 last night, to take into consideration them two 
 Northern fellows that are putting up with 
 you." 
 
 "Well, sir?" 
 
 " 'We don't want any Yankee abolitionists in 
 these parts." 
 
 " Mr. Lucas, I have no guests for whom I will 
 not vouch." 
 
 " Can't help that, squire, them chaps is 
 spotted, and the boys have voted they must 
 leave. As they be your company, us threeVe 
 been deputized to call on you and have a talk 
 about it. We don't want to do nothing unplea- 
 sant whar you're consarned, squire." 
 
 " Gentlemen, my guests shall remain with me 
 while they please to honor me with their com- 
 pany, and I -^vill protect them from violence or 
 indignity with my life." 
 
 "There's no mistake but you're good grit, 
 squire, but 'tain't no use. You know what the 
 
44: FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 bojs mean to do, they'll do. E'ow, wliar's the 
 good of kicking up a sliindj about it ?" 
 
 " No good whatever, Mr. Lucas. You had 
 better let this matter drop. You know me too 
 well to suppose that I would harbor dangerous 
 characters. It is my earnest desire to avoid 
 everything that may bring about an unnecessary 
 excitement, or disturb the peace of the commu- 
 nity ; and I shall therefore make no secret of 
 this intereviw to my friends. But whether they 
 remain with me or go, shall be entirely at their 
 option. I trust that my roof will be held sacred 
 by my fellow-citizens." 
 
 "There'll be no harm done to you or yours, 
 Squire "Weems, whatever happens. But those 
 strangers had better be out of these parts by 
 to-morrow, sure. Good morning, squire." 
 
 " Good morning, gentlemen." 
 
 And the three worthies took their departure, 
 not fully satisfied whether the object of their 
 mission had been fulfilled. 
 
 Beverly, anxious to avoid a collision with the 
 wild spirits of the neighborhood, which would 
 be disagreeable, if not dangerous, to his guests, 
 frankly related to Harold and Arthur the tenor 
 
LOVE AXD SECESSION. 4§ 
 
 of tlie conversation that Lad passed. Oriana 
 was on fire with indignation, but her concern 
 for Harold's safety had its weight with her, and 
 she wisely refrained from opposing their depar- 
 ture ; and both the young men, aware that a 
 prolongation of their visit would cause the 
 family at Riverside manor much inconvenience 
 and anxiety, straightway announced their inten- 
 tion of proceeding northward on the following 
 morning. 
 
 But it was no part of Seth Eawbon's purpose 
 to allow his rival, Hare, to depart in peace. 
 The chastisement which he had received at 
 Harold's hands added a most deadly hate to 
 the jealousy which his knowledge of Oriana's 
 preference had caused. He had considerable 
 influence with several of the dissolute and law- 
 less characters of the vicinity, and a liberal 
 allowance of Monongahela, together with sundry 
 pecuniary favors, enabled him to depend upon 
 their assistance in any adventure that did not 
 promise particularly serious results. ]N'ow the 
 capture and mock trial of a couple of Yankee 
 strangers did not seem much out of the way to 
 these not over-scrupulous worthies ; and Raw- 
 
46 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 b Oil's cunning representations as to the extent 
 of their abolition proclivities were scarcely 
 necessary, in view of the liberality of his 
 bribes, to secure their cooperation in his scheme. 
 
 Rawbon had been prowling about the manor 
 house during the day, in the hope of obtaining 
 some clue to the intentions of the inmates, 
 and observing a mulatto boy engaged in 
 arranging the boat for present use, he walked 
 carelessly along the bank to the old boat-house, 
 and, by a few adroit questions, ascertained that 
 " Missis and the two gen'lmen gwine to take a 
 sail this arternoon." 
 
 The evening was drawing on apace when 
 Oriana, accompanied by Arthur and Harold, 
 set forth on the last of the many excursions 
 they had enjoyed on James River; but they 
 had purposely selected a late hour, that on their 
 return they might realize the tranquil pleasures 
 of a sail by moonlight. Beverly was busy 
 finishing some correspondence for the IS'orth, 
 which he intended giving into the charge of his 
 friend Arthur, and he therefore remained at 
 home. Phil, a smart mulatto, about ten years 
 of age, who was a general favorite in the family 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 47 
 
 and an especial pet of Oriana, was allowed to 
 accompany the party. 
 
 It Avas a lovely evening, only cool enough to 
 be comfortable for Oriana to be wrapped in her 
 woollen sliawl. As the shadows of twilight dark- 
 ened on the silent river, a spirit of sadness was 
 with the party, that vague and painful melan- 
 choly that weighs upon the heart when happy 
 ties are about to be sundered, and loved ones are 
 about to part. Arthur had brought his flute, 
 and with an effort to throw off the feeling of 
 gloom, he essayed a lively air; but it seemed 
 like discord by association with their thoughts. 
 He ceased abruptly, and, at Oriana's request, 
 chose a more mournful theme. When the last 
 notes of the plaintive melody had been lost in 
 the stillness of the night, there was an oppres- 
 sive pause, only broken by the rustle of the little 
 sail and the faint rippling of the wave. 
 
 "I seem to be sailing into the shadows of 
 misfortune," said Oriana, in a low, sad tone. " I 
 wish the moon would rise, for this darkness 
 presses upon my heart like the fingers of a sor- 
 rowful destiny. "What a coward I am to-night !" 
 
 "A most obedient satellite," replied Arthur. 
 
48 rORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 ^'Look where slie heralds her approach by 
 spreading a misty glow on the brow of yonder 
 hill." 
 
 " We have left the shadows of misfortune 
 behind us," said Harold, as a flood of moonlight 
 flashed over the river, seeming to dash a million 
 of diamonds in the path of the gliding boat. 
 
 " Alas ! the fickle orb !" murmured Oriana ; 
 " it rises but to mock us, and hides itself already 
 in the bosom of that sable cloud. Is there not 
 a threat of rain there, Mr. Hare ?" 
 
 " It looks unpromising, at the best," said 
 Harold ; " I think it would be prudent to 
 return." 
 
 Suddenly, little Phil, who had been lying at 
 ease, with his head against the thwarts, arose on 
 his elbow and cried out : 
 
 "AYlia'dat?" 
 
 " What is what, Phil ?" asked Oriana. " Why, 
 Phil, you have been dreaming," she added, 
 observing the lad's confusion at having spoken 
 so veliemently. 
 
 "Miss Orany, dar's a boat out yonder. I 
 heard 'em pulling, sure." 
 
 ^' Nonsense, Phil ! you've been asleep," 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 49 
 
 "By Gol! I heard 'em, sure. Wliat a boat 
 doing round here dis time o' night ? Dem's 
 some niggers arter chickens, sure." 
 
 And little Phil, satisfied that he had fathomed 
 the mystery, lay down again in a fit of silent 
 indignation. The boat was put about, but the 
 wind had died away, and the sail flapped idly 
 against the mast. Harold, glad of the oppor- 
 tunity for a little exercise, shij^ped the sculls and 
 bent to his work. 
 
 " Miss Oriana, put her head for the bank if 
 you please. We shall have less current to pull 
 against in-shore." 
 
 The boat glided along under the shadow of 
 the bank, and no sound was heard but the regu- 
 lar thugging and splashing of the oars and the 
 voices of insects on the shore. They approached 
 a curve in the river where the bank was thickly 
 wooded, and dense shrubbery projected over the 
 stream. 
 
 " Wha' dat '?" shouted Phil again, starting up 
 in the bow and peering into the darkness. A 
 boat shot out from the shadow of the foliage, 
 and her course was checked directly in their 
 path. The movement was so sudden that, before 
 3 
 
50 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 Harold could check his headway, the two boats 
 fouled. A boathook was thrust into the thwarts; 
 Arthur sprang to the bows to cast it off. 
 
 "Don't touch that," shouted a hoarse voice; 
 and he felt the muzzle of a pistol thrust into his 
 breast. 
 
 " Kone of that, Seth," cried another ; and the 
 speaker laid hold of his comrade's arm. " "We 
 must have no shooting, you know." 
 
 Arthur had thrown off the boathook, but 
 some half-dozen armed men had already leaped 
 into the frail vessel, crowding it to such an 
 extent that a struggle, even had it not been 
 madness against such odds, would have occa- 
 sioned great personal danger to Oriana. Both 
 Arthur and Harold seemed instinctively to com- 
 prehend this, and therefore offered no opposi- 
 tion. Their boat was taken in tow, and in a few 
 moments the entire party, with one exception, 
 were landed upon the adjacent bank. That 
 exception was little Phil. In the confusion that 
 ensued upon the collision of the two boats, the 
 lad had quietly slipped overboard, and swam 
 around to the stern where his mistress sat. 
 
 " Miss Orany, hist ! Miss Orany I" 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 51 
 
 Tlie bewildered girl turned and belield the 
 black face peering over the gunwale. 
 
 " Miss Oranj, here I is. O Lor' ! Miss Orany, 
 what we gwine to do ?" 
 
 She bowed her head toward him and whis- 
 pered hurriedly, but calmly : 
 
 " Mind what I tell you, Phil. You watch 
 where they take us to, and then run home and 
 tell Master Beverlj. Do you understand me, 
 Phil ?" 
 
 " Yes, I does, Miss Orany ;" and the little 
 fellow struck out silently for the shore, and 
 crept among the bushes. 
 
 Oriana betrayed no sign of fear as she stood 
 with her two companions on the bank a few 
 paces from their captors. The latter, in a low 
 but earnest tone, were disputing with one who 
 seemed to act as their leader. 
 
 " You didn't tell us nothing about the lady," 
 said a brawny, rugged-looking fellow, angrily. 
 "JS'ow, look here, Seth Kawbon, this ain't a 
 goin' to do. I'd cut your heart out, before 
 I'd let any harm come to Squire Weems' sis- 
 ter." 
 
 "You lied to us, you long-headed Yankee 
 
52 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 turncoat," muttered another. What in thunder 
 do you mean bringing us down here for kid- 
 napping a lady ?" 
 
 " Ain't I worried about it as much as you ?" 
 answered Kawbon. " Can't you understand it's 
 all a mistake ?" 
 
 " Well, now, you go and apologize to Miss 
 Weems and fix matters, d'ye hear ?" 
 
 " But what can we do ?" 
 
 " Do ? Undo what you've done, and show her 
 back into the boat." 
 
 " But the two abo " 
 
 " Damn them and you along with 'em I Come^ 
 boys, don't let's keep the lady waiting thar." 
 
 The party approached their prisoners, and one 
 among them, hat in hand, respectfully addressed 
 Oriana. 
 
 " Miss Weems, we're plaguy sorry this 
 should 'a happened. It's a mistake and none 
 of our fault. Your boat's down thar and yer 
 shan't be merlested." 
 
 " Am I free to go ?" asked Oriana, calmly. 
 
 " Free as air, Miss Weems." 
 
 " With my companions ?" 
 
 " Koj they remain with us," said Rawbon. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 53 
 
 " Then I remain with them," she replied, with 
 dignity and firmness. 
 
 The man Avho had first remonstrated with 
 HaAvbon, stepped up to him and laid his hand 
 heavily on his shoulder : 
 
 " Look here, Seth Hawbon, you've played out 
 your hand in this game, now mind that. Miss 
 Weems, you're free to go, anyhow, w4th them 
 chaps or not, just as you like." 
 
 " They stepped down the embankment, but 
 the boats were nowhere to be seen. Rawbon, 
 anticipating some trouble with his gang, had 
 made a pretence only of securing the craft to a 
 neighboring bush. The current had carried the 
 boats out into the stream, and they had floated 
 down the river and were lost to sight in the 
 darkness. 
 
54 FORT LAFAYETTE; OB, 
 
 CHAPTEK Y. 
 
 There was no remedy but to cross the -wood- 
 land and cornfields that for about a league 
 intervened between their position and the high- 
 way. They commenced the tedious tramp, 
 Arthur and Harold exerting themselves to the 
 utmost to protect Oriana from the brambles, and 
 to guide her footsteps along the uneven ground 
 and among the decayed branches and other 
 obstacles that beset their j)ath. Their rude 
 comj)anions, too, with the exception of Eawbon, 
 who walked moodily apart, seemed solicitous to 
 assist her with their rough attentions. To add 
 to the disagreeable nature of their situation, the 
 rain began to fall in torrents before they had 
 accomplished one half of the distance. They 
 were then in the midst of a tract of wooded 
 land that was almost impassable for a lady in 
 the darkness, on account of the yielding nature 
 of the soil, and the numerous ruts and hollows 
 that were soon transformed into miniature pools 
 
LOVE AlsB SECESSION. 55 
 
 and streams. Oriana strove to treat tlie adven- 
 ture as a theme for laughter, and for awhile 
 chatted gaily witli her companions ; but it was 
 evident that she was fast becoming weary, and 
 that her thin-shod feet were wounded by con- 
 stant contact with the twigs and sharp stones 
 that it was impossible to avoid in the darkness. 
 Her dress was torn, and heavy with mud and 
 moisture, and the two young men were pained 
 to perceive that, in spite of her efforts and their 
 watchful care, she stumbled frequently with 
 exhaustion, and leaned heavily on their arms as 
 she labored through the miry soil. 
 
 One of the party opportunely remembered a 
 charcoal-burner's hut in the vicinity, that would 
 at least afford a rude shelter from the drivino- 
 storm. Several of the men hastened in search 
 of it, and soon a halloo not far distant indicated 
 that the cabin, such as it was, had been dis- 
 covered. As tliey approached, they were sur- 
 prised to observe rays of light streamino; throuo-h 
 the cracks and crevices, as if a fire were blazino- 
 within. It was an uninviting structure, hastily 
 constructed of unhewn logs, and upon ordinary 
 occasions Oriana would have hesitated to pass 
 
56 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 the threshold ; but wet and weary as she was, 
 she was glad to obtain the shelter of even so 
 poor a hovel. 
 
 " There's a runaway in thar, I reckon/' said 
 one of the party. He threw open the door, and 
 several of the men entered. A fire of logs was 
 burning on the earthen floor, and beside it was 
 stretched a negro's form, wrapj)ed in a tattered 
 blanket. He started up as his unwelcome 
 visitors entered, and looked frightened and 
 bewildered, as if suddenly awakened from a 
 sound sleep. However, he had no sooner laid 
 eyes upon Seth Eawbon than, with a yell of fear, 
 he sprang with a powerful leap through tlie 
 doorway, leaving his blanket in the hands of 
 those who sought to grasp him. 
 
 " That's my nigger Jim !" cried Eawbon, 
 discharging his revolver at the dusky form as it 
 ran like a deer into the shadow of the woods. 
 At every shot, the negro jumped and screamed, 
 but, from his accelerated speed, was apparently 
 untouched. 
 
 " After him, boys !" shouted Eawbon. " Five 
 dollars apiece and a gallon of whisky if you 
 bring the varmint in." 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 57 
 
 With a wlioop, the whole party went off in 
 chase and were soon lost to view in the dark- 
 ness. 
 
 Harold and Arthur led Oriana into the hut, 
 and, spreading their coats upon the damp floor, 
 made a rude couch for her beside the fire. The 
 poor girl was evidently prostrated with fatigue 
 and excitement, yet, with a faint laugh and a 
 jest as she glanced around upon the questionable 
 accommodations, she thanhed thein for their 
 kindness, and seated herself beside the blazing 
 fagots. 
 
 " This is a strange finale to our pleasure 
 excursion," she said, as the grateful warmth 
 somewhat revived her spirits. '^ You must 
 acknowledge me a prophetess, gentlemen," she 
 added, with a smile, " for you see that we sailed 
 indeed into the shadows of misfortune." 
 
 "Should your health not suffer from this 
 exposure," replied Arthur, " our adventure will 
 prove no misfortune, but only a theme for mirth 
 hereafter, when we recall to mind our present 
 piteous plight." 
 
 " Oh, I am strong, Mr. Wayne," she an- 
 swered cheerfully, perceiving the expression of 
 4* 
 
58 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 solicitude in the countenances of lier com- 
 panions, " and have passed the ordeal of many 
 a thorough wetting with impunity. ]JTever fear 
 but I shall fare well enough. I am only sorry 
 and ashamed that all our boasted Yirginia 
 hospitality can afford you no better quarters 
 than this for your last night among us." 
 
 " Apart from the discomfort to yourself, this 
 little episode will only make brighter by contrast 
 my remembrance of the many happy hours we 
 have passed together," said Arthur, with a tone 
 of deep feeling that caused Oriana to turn and 
 gaze thoughtfully into the flaming pile. 
 
 Harold said nothing, and stood leaning mood- 
 ily against the wall of the hovel, evidently a 
 prey to painful thoughts. His mind wandered 
 into the glooms of the future, and dwelt upon 
 the hour when he, perhaps, should tread with 
 hostile arms the soil that was the birthplace of 
 his beloved. " Can it be possible," he thought, 
 "that between us twain, united as we are in 
 soul, there can exist such variance of opinion as 
 will make her kin and mine enemies, and per- 
 haps the shedders of each other's blood !" 
 
 There was a pause, and Oriana, her raiment 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 59 
 
 being partially dried, rested her head u^on her 
 arm and slumbered. 
 
 The storm increased in yiolence, and the rain, 
 pelting against the cabin roof, with its weird 
 music, formed a dismal accompaniment to the 
 grotesque discomfort of their situation. Arthur 
 threw fresh fuel upon the fire, and the crackling 
 twigs sent up a fitful flame, that fell athwart the 
 face of the sleeping girl, and revealed an expres- 
 sion of sorrow upon her features that caused 
 him to turn away with a sigh. 
 
 "Arthur," asked Harold, abruptly, "do you 
 think tliis unfortunate affair at Sumter will breed 
 much trouble ?" 
 
 " I fear it," said Arthur, sadly. " Our JS'orth- 
 ern hearts are made of sterner stuff than is 
 consistent with the spirit of conciliation." 
 
 " And what of Southern hearts ?" 
 
 " You have studied them," said Arthur, with 
 a pensive smile, and bending his gaze upon the 
 sleeping maiden. 
 
 Harold colored slightly, and glanced half 
 reproachfully at his friend. 
 
 " I cannot help believing," continued the lat- 
 ter, " that we are blindly invoking a fatal strife. 
 
60 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 more in tlie spirit of exaltation than of calm and 
 searching philosoj^hj. I am confident that the 
 elements of nnion still exist within the sections, 
 but my instinct, no less than my judgment, tells 
 me that they will no longer exist when the 
 chariot-wheels of war shall have swept over the 
 land. "Whatever be the disparity of strength, 
 wealth and numbers, and whatever may be the 
 result of encounters upon the battle-field, such a 
 terrible war as both sides are capable of waging 
 can never build up or sustain a fabric whose 
 cement must be brotherhood and kindly feeling. 
 I would as soon think to woo the woman of my 
 cboice with angry words and blows, as to recon- 
 cile our divided fellow citizens by force of 
 arms." 
 
 " You are more a philosopher than a patriot," 
 said Harold, with some bitterness. 
 
 " [N'ot so," answered Arthur, warmly. " I love 
 my country — so well, indeed, that I cannot be 
 aroused into hostility to any section of it. My 
 reason does not admit the necessity for civil war, 
 and it becomes therefore a sacred obligation 
 with me to give my voice against the doctrine 
 of coercion. My judgment may err, or my 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. gl 
 
 sensibilities may be ' too full of tlic milk of 
 liiiman kindness ' to serve the stern exigencies 
 of the crisis with a Spartan's callousness and a 
 Roman's impenetrability ; but for you to affirm 
 that, because true to my own opinions, I must be 
 false to my country, is to deny me that inde- 
 pendence of thought to wliich my country, as a 
 nation, owes its existence and its grandeur." 
 
 "You boast your patriotism, and yet you 
 seem to excuse those who seek the dismember- 
 ment of your country." 
 
 "I do not excuse them, but I would not have 
 them judged harshly, for I believe they have 
 act(id under provocation." 
 
 •^'What provocation can justify rebellion 
 against a government so beneficent as ours ?'' 
 
 '' I will not pretend to justify, because I think 
 there is much to be forgiven on either side. But 
 if anything can palliate the act, it is that system 
 of determined hostility which for years has been 
 levelled against an institution which they believe 
 to be righteous and founded upon divine pre- 
 cept. But I think this is not the hour for justi- 
 fication or for crimination. I am convinced that 
 the integrity of the Union can only be preserved 
 
62 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 by withliolding the armed iiand at this crisis. 
 And pray Heaven, our government may forbear 
 to strike !" 
 
 "Would you, then, have our flag trampled 
 upon with impunity, and our government con- 
 fessed a cipher, because, forsooth, you have a 
 constitutional repugnance to the severities of 
 warfare? Away with such sickly sentimental- 
 ity ! Such theories, if carried into practice, 
 would reduce us to a nation of political dwarfs 
 and puny drivellers, fit only to grovel at the 
 footstools of tyrants." 
 
 "I could better bear an insult to our flag 
 than a deathblow to our nationality. And I feel 
 that our nationality would not survive a struggle 
 between the sections. There is no danger that 
 we should be dwarfed in intellect or spirit by 
 practising forbearance toward our brothers." 
 
 "Is treason less criminal because it is the 
 treason of brother against brother ? If so, then 
 must a traitor of necessity go unpunished, since 
 the nature of the crime requires that the culprit 
 be your countryman. How hollow are your 
 arguments when applied to existing facts !" 
 
 " You foro^et that I counsel moderation as an 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 63 
 
 expediency, as even a necessity, for the public 
 good. It were poor policy to compass the conn- 
 try's ruin for the sake of bringing chastisement 
 ■uj)on error." 
 
 " That can be but a questionable love of coun- 
 try that would humiliate a government to the act 
 of parleying with rebellion." 
 
 " My love of country is not confined to one 
 section of the country, or to one division of my 
 countrymen. The lessons of the historic past 
 have taught me otherwise. If, when a school- 
 boy, poring over the pages of my country's 
 history, I have stood, in imagination, with Pres- 
 cott at Bunker Hill, and stormed with Ethan 
 Allien at the gates of Ticonderoga, I have also 
 mourned with Washington at Yalley Forge, 
 and followed Marion and Sumter through the 
 wilds of Carolina. If I have fancied myself at 
 work with Yankee sailors at the guns, and 
 poured the shivering broadside into the Guer- 
 riere, I have helped to man the breastworks at 
 'New Orleans, and seen the ranks that stood 
 firm at Waterloo wavering before the blaze of 
 Southern rifies. K I have read of the hardy 
 Northern volunteers on the battle-plains of 
 
64 FORT LATATETTE; OR, 
 
 Mexico ; I remember tlie Palmetto boys at Cbe- 
 rubusco, and the brave Mississippians at Buena 
 Yista. Is it a wonder, then, that my heart- 
 strings ache when I see the links breaking that 
 bind me to such memories ? If I would have 
 the Government parley awhile for the sake of 
 peace, even although the strict law sanction the 
 bayonet and cannon, I do it in the name of the 
 sacred past, when the ties of brotherhood were 
 strong. I counsel not humiliation nor submis- 
 sion, but conciliation. I counsel it, not only as 
 an expedient, but as a tribute to the affinities of 
 almost a century. I love the Union too well 
 to be willing that its fate should be risked upon 
 the uncertainties of war. I believe in my con- 
 science that the chances of its reconstructiou 
 depend rather upon negotiation than upon 
 battles. I may err, or you, as my o^^ponent 
 in opinion, may err; for while I assume not 
 infallibility for myself, I deny it, with justice, to 
 my neighbor. But I think as my heart and 
 intellect dictate, and my patriotism should not 
 be questioned by one as liable to error as myself. 
 Should I yield my honest convictions upon a 
 question of such vital importance as my coun- 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 05 
 
 try's welfare, then indeed should I be a traitor 
 to my country and myself. But to accuse me 
 of questionable patriotism for my independence 
 of thought, is, in itself, treason against God and 
 man." 
 
 " I believe you sincere in your convictions, 
 Arthur, not because touched by your argument, 
 but because I have known you too long and 
 well to believe you capable of an unworthy 
 motive. But what, in the name of common 
 justice, would you have us do, w^lien rebellion 
 already thunders at the gates of our citadels 
 w^tli belching cannon ? Shall we sit by our 
 iiresides and nod to the music of their artil- 
 lery ?" 
 
 " I would have every American citizen, in 
 this crisis, as in all others, divest himself of all 
 prejudice and sectional feeling : I would have 
 him listen to and ponder upon the opinions of 
 liis fellow citizens, and, with the exercise of his 
 best judgment, to discard the bad, and take 
 counsel from the good ; then, I would have him 
 conclude for himself, not whether his flag has 
 been insulted, or whether there are injuries to 
 avenge, or criminals to be punished, but what 
 
66 FORT LATAYETTE; OR, 
 
 is best and surest to be done for the welfare of 
 bis country. If be believe tbe Union can only 
 be preserved by war, let bis voice be for war ; 
 if by peace, let bim counsel peace, as I do, from 
 my heart ; if he remain in doubt, let him incline 
 to peace, secure that in so doing he will best 
 obey the teachings of Christianity, the laws of 
 humanity, and the mighty voice that is speaking 
 from the soul of enlightenment, pointing out the 
 errors of the past, and disclosing the secret of 
 human happiness for the future." 
 
 Arthur's eye kindled as he spoke, and the 
 flush of excitement, to which he was habitually 
 a stranger, colored his pale cheek. Oriana had 
 awakened with the vehemence of his language, 
 and gazing with interest upon his now animated 
 features, had been listening to his closing words. 
 Harold was about to answer, when suddenly the 
 baying of a hound broke through the noise of 
 the storm. 
 
 " Tliat is a bloodhound !" exclaimed Harold 
 with an accent of surprise. 
 
 '' Oh, no," said Oriana. '' There are no blood- 
 bounds in this neighborhood, nor are they at all 
 in use, I am sure, in Yirginia." 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 6Y 
 
 " I am not mistaken," replied Harold. " I 
 have been made familiar with their baying while 
 surveying on the coast of Florida. Listen !" 
 
 The deep, full tones came swelling upon the 
 night wind, and fell with a startling distinctness 
 ■upon the ear. 
 
 "It's my hound. Mister Hare," said a low, 
 coarse voice at the doorway, and Seth Kawbon 
 entered the cabin and closed the door behind 
 him. 
 
08 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 " It's my hound, Miss Weems, and I guess 
 lie's on the track of that nigger, Jim." 
 
 Oriana started as if stung by a serpent, and 
 rising to her feet, looked upon the man with 
 such an expression of contempt and loathing 
 that the ruffian's brow gi-ew black with anger as 
 he returned her gaze. Harold confronted him, 
 and spoke in a low, earnest tone, and between 
 his clenched teeth : 
 
 " If you are a man you will go at once. This 
 persecution of a woman is beneath even your 
 brutahty. If you have an account with me, I 
 will not balk you. But relieve her from the 
 outrage of your presence here." 
 
 " I guess I'd better be around," rej)lied Eaw- 
 bon, coolly, as he leaned against the door, with 
 his hands in his coat pocket. "Tliat dog is 
 dangerous when he's on the scent. You see. 
 Miss Weems," he continued, speaking over 
 Harold's shoulder, " my niggers are plaguy 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 59 
 
 troublesome, and I keep the lioiind to cow them 
 down a trifle. But he wouldn't hurt a ladj, I 
 think — unless I happened to encourage him a 
 bit, do jou see." 
 
 And the man showed his black teeth with a 
 grin that caused Oriana to shudder and turn 
 awaj. 
 
 Harold's brow was like a thunder-cloud, from 
 beneath which his eyes flashed like the light- 
 ning at midnight. 
 
 " Your words imply a threat which I cannot 
 understand. EuflSan ! What do mean ?" 
 
 " I mean no good to you, my buck !" 
 
 His lip, with the deep cut upon it, curled 
 with hate, but he still leaned coolly against the 
 door, though a quick ear might have caught a 
 click, as if he had cocked a pistol in his pocket. 
 It was a habit with Harold to go unarmed. 
 Fearless and self-reliant by nature, even upon 
 his surveying expeditions in wild and out of the 
 way districts, he carried no weapon beyond 
 sometimes a stout oaken stafi". But now, his 
 form dilated, and the muscles of his arm con- 
 tracted, as if he were about to strike. Oriana 
 understood the movement and the danger. She 
 
70 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 advanced quietly but quickly to his side, and 
 took his hand within her own. 
 
 " He is not worth your anger, Harold. For 
 my sake, Harold, do not provoke him further," 
 she added softly, as she drew him from the 
 spot. 
 
 At this moment the baying of the hound was 
 heard, apparently in close proximity to the 
 hovel, and presently there was a heavy breath- 
 ing and snuffling at the threshold, followed by a 
 bound against the door, and a howl of rage and 
 impatience. [N'othing prevented the entrance 
 of the animal except the form of Kawbon, 
 who still leaned quietly against the rude frame, 
 which, hanging upon leathern hinges, closed the 
 aperture. 
 
 There was something frightful in the hoarse 
 snarling of the angry beast, as he dashed his 
 his heavy shoulder against the rickety frame- 
 work, and Oriana shrank nervously to Harold's 
 side. 
 
 "Secure that dog!" he said, as, while sooth- 
 ing the trembling girl, he looked over his 
 shoulder reproachfully at Rawbon. His tone 
 was low, and even gentle, but it was tremulous 
 
LOYE AND SECESSION. 71 
 
 with passio:\. But the man gave no answer, 
 and continued leering at them as before. 
 
 Arthur walked to him and spoke almost in an 
 accent of entreaty. 
 
 " Sir, for the sake of your manhood, take 
 away your dog and leave us." 
 
 He did not answer. 
 
 The hound, excited by the sound of voices, 
 redoubled his efforts and his fury. Oriana was 
 sinking into Harold's arms. 
 
 " This must end," he muttered. " Arthur, 
 take her from me, she's fainting. I'll go out 
 and brain the dog." 
 
 " ]N'ot yet, not yet," whispered Arthur. " For 
 her sake be calm," and while he received Oriana 
 upon one arm, with the other he sought to stay 
 his friend. 
 
 But Harold seized a brand from the fire, and 
 sprang toward the door. 
 
 " Stand from the door," he shouted, lifting 
 the brand above Eawbon's head. " Leave that, 
 I say !" 
 
 Rawbon's lank form straightened, and in an 
 instant the revolver flashed in the glare of the 
 fagots. 
 
72 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 He did not slioot, but his face grew black 
 with passion. 
 
 " By God ! you strike me, and I'll set the dog 
 at the woman." 
 
 At the sound of his master's voice, the hound 
 set up a yell that seemed unearthly. Harold 
 was familiar with the nature of the species, and 
 even in the extremity of his anger, his anxiety 
 for Oriana withheld his arm. 
 
 " Look you here !" continued Rawbon, losing 
 his quiet, mocking tone, and fairly screaming 
 with excitement, "do you see this?" He 
 pointed to his mangled lip, from which, by the 
 action of his jaws while talking, the plaster had 
 just been torn, and the blood was streaming out 
 afresh. "Do you see this? I've got that to settle 
 with you. ril hunt you, by G— d ! as that hound 
 hunts a nigger. ISTow see if I don't spoil that 
 pretty face of yours, some day, so that she won't 
 look so sweet on you for all your pretty talk." 
 
 He seemed to calm abruptly after this, put 
 up his pistol, and resumed the wicked leer. 
 
 ""What would you have?" at last asked 
 Arthur, mildly and with no trace of anger in 
 his voice. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 73 
 
 Kawboii liirned to him with a searching 
 glance, and, after a pause, said : 
 
 " Terms." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " I want to make terms with you." 
 
 " About what ?" 
 
 " About this whole affair." 
 
 " Well. Go on." 
 
 " I know you can hurt me for this with the 
 law, and I know you mean to. E^ow I want this 
 matter hushed up." 
 
 Harold would have spoken, but Arthur im- 
 plored him with a glance, and answered : 
 
 " What assurance can you give us against 
 your outrages in the future ?" 
 
 "None." 
 
 " None ! Then why should we compromise 
 with you ?" 
 
 " Because I've got the best hand to-night, and 
 you know it. For her, you know, you'll do 'most 
 anything — now, won't you ?" 
 
 The fellow's complaisant smile caused Arthur 
 
 to look away with disgust. He turned to 
 
 Harold, and they were conferring about Haw- 
 
 bon's strange proposition, when Oriana raised 
 
 4 
 
74 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 liei' head siicldenlj and her face assumed an 
 expression of attention, as if her ear had canght 
 a distant sound. She had not forgotten little 
 Phil, and knowing his sagacity and faithfnhiess, 
 she depended mnch npon his having followed 
 her instructions. And indeed, a moment after, 
 the j^lashing of the hoofs of horses in the wet soil 
 could be distinctly heard. 
 
 " Them's my overseer and his man, I guess," 
 said Rawbon, with composure, and he smiled 
 again as he observed how effectually he had 
 checked the gleam of joy that had lightened 
 Oriana's face. 
 
 " 'Twas he, you see, that set the dog on Jim's 
 track, and now he's following after, that's all." 
 
 He had scarcely concluded, when a vigorous 
 and excited voice was heard, shouting : " There 
 'tis ! — there's the hut, gentlemen! Push on !" 
 
 " It is my brother ! my brother !" cried Oriana, 
 clasping her hands with joy ; and for the first 
 time that night she burst into tears and sobbed 
 on Harold's shoulder. 
 
 Pawbon's face grew livid with rage and dis- 
 appointment. He flung open the door and 
 sprang out into the open air ; but Oriana could 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 75 
 
 see him pause an instant at the threshold, and 
 stooping, point into tlie cabin. The low hissing 
 word of command that accompanied the action 
 reached her ear. She knew what it meant and 
 a faint shriek burst from her lips, more perhaps 
 from horror at the demoniac cruelty of the man, 
 than from fear. The next moment, a gigantic 
 bloodhound, gaunt, mud -bespattered and with 
 the froth of fury oozing from his distended jaws, 
 plunged through the doorway and stood glaring 
 in the centre of the cabin. 
 
 Oriana stood like a sculptured ideal of terror, 
 white and immovable ; Harold with his left 
 arm encircled the rigid form, while his right 
 hand was uplifted, weaponless, but clenched 
 with the energy of despair, till the blood-drops 
 burst from his palm. But Arthur stepped 
 before them both and fixed his calm blue eyes 
 upon the monster's burning orbs. There was 
 neither fear, nor excitement, nor irresolution in 
 that steadfast gaze — it was like the clear, 
 straightforward glance of a father checking a 
 wayward child — even the habitual sadness lin- 
 gered in the deep azure, and the features only 
 changed to be cast in more placid mold. It 
 
76 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 was the struggle of a brave and tranquil soul 
 with the ferocious instincts of the brute. The 
 hound, crouched for a deadly spring, was fasci- 
 nated by this spectacle of the utter absence of 
 emotion, ffis huge chest heaved like a billow 
 with his labored respiration, but the regular 
 breathing of the being that awed him was like 
 that of a sleeping child. For full five minutes — 
 but it seemed an age — this silent but terrible 
 duel was being fought, and yet no succor came. 
 Beverly and those who came with him must 
 have changed their course to pursue the fleeing 
 Rawbon. 
 
 " Lead her out softly, Harold," murmured 
 Arthur, without changing a muscle or altering 
 his gaze. But the agony of suspense had been 
 too great — Oriana, with a convulsive shudder, 
 swooned and hung like a corpse upon Harold's 
 arm. 
 
 " Oh, God ! she is dying, Arthur !" he could 
 not help exclaiming, for it was indeed a counter- 
 part of death that he held in his embrace. 
 
 Then only did Arthur falter for an instant, 
 and the hound was at his throat. The powerful 
 jaws closed with a snap upon his shoulder, and 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 77 
 
 you iniglit have heard the sharp faDgs grate 
 against the bone. The shock of the spring 
 brought Arthur to the ground, and man and 
 brute rolled over together, and struggled in the 
 mud and gore. Harold bore the lifeless girl out 
 into the air, and returning, closed the door. 
 lie seized a brand, and ^vnh both hands levelled 
 a fierce blow at the dog's neck. The stick shiv- 
 ered like glass, but the creature only shook his 
 grisly head, but never quit his hold. With his 
 bare hand he seized the live coals from the 
 thickest of the fire and pressed them against the 
 flanks and stomach of the tenacious animal ; the 
 brute howled and quivered in every limb, but 
 still the blood-stained fangs were firmly set into 
 the lacerated flesh. With both hands clasped 
 around the monster's throat, he exerted his 
 strength till the finger-bones seemed to crack, 
 lie could feel the pulsations of the dog's heart 
 grow fainter and slower, and could see in his 
 rolling and upheaved eyeballs that the death- 
 pang was upon him ; but those iron jaws still 
 were locked in the torn shoulder; and as Harold 
 beheld the big drops start from his friend's ashy 
 brow, and his eyes filming with the leaden hue 
 
78 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 of unconsciousness, tlie agonizing thought came 
 to him that the clog and the man were dying 
 together in that terrible embrace. 
 
 It was then that he fairly sobbed with the 
 sensation of relief, as he heard the prancing of 
 steeds close by the cabin-door; and Beverly, 
 entering hastily, with a cry of horror, stood one 
 moment aghast as he looked on the frightful 
 scene. Then, with repeated shots from his 
 revolver, he scattered the dog's brains over 
 Arthur's blood-stained bosom. 
 
 Harold arose, and, faint and trembling with 
 excitement and exhaustion, leaned against the 
 wall. Beverly knelt by the side of the wounded 
 man, and placed his hand above his heart. 
 Harold turned to him with an anxious look. 
 
 " He has but fainted from loss of blood," said 
 Beverly. "Harold, where is my sister?" 
 
 As he spoke, Oriana, who, in the fresh night 
 air, had recovered from her swoon, pale and 
 with dishevelled hair, appeared at the cabin-door. 
 Harold and Beverly sought to lead her out 
 before her eyes fell upon Arthur's bleeding 
 form ; but she had already seen the pale, calm 
 face, clotted with blood, but with the beautiful 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. ^9 
 
 Bad smile still lingering upon the parted lips. 
 She appeared to see neither Harold nor her 
 brother, but only those tranquil features, above 
 which the angel of Death seemed already to 
 have brushed his dewy wing. She put aside 
 Beverly's arm, which was extended to support 
 her, and thrust him away as if he had been a 
 strano^er. She unloosed her hand from Harold's 
 affectionate grasp, and with a long and sup- 
 pressed moan of intense anguish, she kneeled 
 down in the little pool of blood beside the 
 extended form, with her hands tightly clasped, 
 and wept bitterly. 
 
 They raised her tenderly, and assured her that 
 Arthur was not dead. 
 
 '' Oh, no ! oh, no !" she murmured, as the 
 tears streamed out afresh, "he must not die! 
 He must not die for me! He is so good! so 
 brave 1 A child's heart, with the courage of a 
 lion. Oh, Harold ! why did you not save him V 
 
 But as she took Harold's hand almost re- 
 proachfully, she perceived that it was black and 
 burnt, and he too was suffering ; and she leaned 
 her brow upon his bosom and sobbed with a 
 new sorrow. 
 
80 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 Beverly was almost vexed at the weakness liis 
 sister displayed. It was unusual to her, and he 
 forgot her weariness and the trial she had 
 passed. He had been binding some linen about 
 Arthur's shoulder, and he looked up and spoke 
 to her in a less gentle tone. 
 
 "Oriana, you are a child to-night. I have 
 never seen you thus. Come, help me with this 
 bandage." 
 
 She sighed heavily, but immediately ceased to 
 weep, and said "Yes," calmlj and with firm- 
 ness. Bending beside her brother, without 
 faltering or shrinking, she gave her white 
 fingers to the painful task. 
 
 In the stormy midnight, by the fitful glare of 
 the dying embers, those two silent men and 
 that pale woman seemed to be keeping a vigil 
 in an abode of death. And the pattering rain 
 and moan of the night-wind sounded like a 
 dirge. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 81 
 
 CHAPTEE yn. 
 
 Several gentlemen of tlie neighborhood, 
 whom Beverly, upon hearing little Phil's story, 
 had hastily summoned to his assistance, now 
 entered the cabin, together with the male 
 negi'oes of his household, who had mounted the 
 fiirm horses and eagerly followed to the rescue 
 of their young mistress. They had been detained 
 without by an unsuccessful pursuit of Kawbon, 
 whose flight they had discovered, but who had 
 easily evaded them in the darkness. A rude 
 litter was constructed for Arthur, but Oriana 
 declared herself well able to proceed on horse- 
 back, and would not listen to any suggestion of 
 delay on her account. She mounted Beverly's 
 horse, while he and Harold supplied themselves 
 from amouo; the horses that the neijjroes had 
 rode, and thus, slowly and silently, they threaded 
 the lonely forest, while ever and anon a groan 
 fi'om the litter struck painfully upon their ears. 
 4* 
 
82 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 Arrived at tlie manor house, a physician who 
 had been summoned, pronounced Arthur's hurt 
 to be serious, but not dangerous. Upon receiv- 
 ing this intelligence, Oriana and Harold were 
 persuaded to retire, and Beverly and his aunt 
 remained as watchers at the bedside of the 
 wounded man. 
 
 Oriana, despite her agitation, slept well, her 
 rest being only disturbed by fitful dreams, in 
 which Arthur's pale face seemed ever present, 
 now smiling upon her mournfully, and now 
 locked in the repose of death. She arose some- 
 what refreshed, though still feverish and anxious, 
 and walking upon the veranda to breathe the 
 morning air, she was joined by Harold, with his 
 hand in a sling, and much relieved by the appli- 
 cation of a poultice, which the skill of Miss 
 Eandolph had prepared. He informed her that 
 Ai'thur was sleeping quietly, and that she might 
 dismiss all fears as to his safety ; and perhaps, if 
 he had watched her closely, the earnest expres- 
 sion of something more than pleasure with which 
 she received this assurance, might have given 
 him cause for rumination. Beverly descended 
 soon afterward, and conjfirmed the favorable 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 33 
 
 report from the sick chamber, and Oriana 
 retired into the house to assist in preparing the 
 morning meal. 
 
 " Let us take a stroll by the riverside," said 
 Beverly; "the air breathes freshly after my 
 night's vigil." 
 
 " The storm has left none but traces of beauty 
 behind," observed Harold, as they crossed the 
 lawn. The loveliness of the early morning was 
 indeed a pleasant sequel to the rude tempest of 
 the preceding night. The dewdrops glistened 
 upon grass-blade and foliage, and the bosom of 
 the stream flashed merrily in the sunbeams. 
 
 "It is," answered Beverly, "as if mture 
 were rejoicing that the war of the elements is 
 over, and a peace proclaimed. Would that the 
 black cloud upon our political horizon had as 
 happily passed away." 
 
 After a pause, he continued : " Harold, you 
 need not fear to remain with us a while longer. 
 I am sure that Kawbon's confederates are heartily 
 ashamed of their participation in last night's 
 outrage, and will on no account be seduced to a 
 similar adventure. Eawbon himself will not be 
 likely to show himself in this vicinity for some 
 
84 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 time to come, unless as the inmate of a jail, for 
 I have ordered a warrant to be issued against 
 him. The whole affair* has resulted evidently 
 from some unaccountable antipathy which the 
 fellow entertains against us." 
 
 "I agree with you," replied Harold, "but 
 still I think this is an unpropitious time for the 
 prolongation of my visit. There are events, I 
 fear, breeding for the immediate future, in which 
 I must take a part. I shall only remain with 
 you a few days, that I may be assured of 
 Arthur's safety." 
 
 " I will not disguise from you my impression 
 tliat Virginia will withdraw from the Union. 
 Li that case, we will be nominal enemies. God 
 grant that our paths may not cross each 
 other." 
 
 " Amen !" replied Harold, with much feeling. 
 " But I do not understand why we should be 
 enemies. You surely will not lend your voice 
 to this rebellion ?" 
 
 " "When the question of secession is before the 
 people of my State, I shall cast my vote as my 
 judgment and conscience shall dictate. Mean- 
 while I shall examine the issue, and, I trust, 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 85 
 
 dispassionately. But whatever may become of 
 my individual opinion, where Virginia goes 1 
 go, wliatever be the event." 
 
 " Would you upliold a wrong in the face of 
 your own conscience ?" 
 
 *' Oh, as to that, I do not hold it a question 
 between right and wrong, but simply of advisa- 
 bility. The right of secession I entertain no 
 doubt about." 
 
 " K"o doubt as to the right of dismembering 
 and destroying a government which has fostered 
 your infancy, developed your strengtli, and 
 made you one among the parts of a nation that 
 has no peer in a world's history ? Is it possible 
 that intellect and honesty can harbor such a 
 doctrine !" 
 
 " My dear Harold, you look at the subject as 
 an enthusiast, and you allow your heart not to 
 assist but to control your brain. Men, by asso- 
 ciation, become attached to forms and symbols, 
 so as in time to believe that u])on their existence 
 depends the substance of which they are but 
 the signs. Forty years ago, in tho Hawaiian 
 Islands, the death-penalty was inflicted upon a 
 native of the inferior caste, should he chance to 
 
86 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 pass over tlie shadow of one of noble birth 
 So would yon avenge an insult to a shadow, 
 while jou allow the substance to be stolen from 
 your grasp. Our jewel, as freemen, is the right 
 of self-government ; the form of government is 
 a mere convenience — a machine, which may be 
 dismembered, destroyed, remodelled a thousand 
 times, without detriment to the great principle 
 of which it is the outward sign." 
 
 " You draw a picture of anarchy that would 
 disgrace a confederation of petty savage tribes. 
 What miserable apology for a government would 
 that be whose integrity depends upon the caprice 
 of the governed ?" 
 
 "It is as likely that a government should 
 become tyi-annical, as that a people should be- 
 come capricious. You have simply chosen an 
 unfair word. For cajyrice substitute will^ and 
 you have my ideal of a true republic." 
 
 " And by that ideal, one State, by its indi- 
 vidual act, might overturn the entire system 
 adopted for the convenience and safety of the 
 whole." 
 
 " I^ot so. It does not follow that the system 
 should be overturned because circumscribed in 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 87 
 
 limit, more than tliat a business firm sliould 
 necessarily be ruined by the withdrawal of a 
 partner. Observe, Harold, that the General 
 Government was never a sovereignty, and came 
 into existence only by the consent of each and 
 every individual State. The States were the 
 sovereignties, and their connection with the 
 Union, being the mere creature of their will, 
 can exist only by that will." 
 
 "Why, Beverly, you might as well argue 
 that this pencil-case, which became mine by 
 an act of volition on your part, because you 
 gave it me, ceases to be mine when you re- 
 claim it." 
 
 "If I had appointed you my amanuensis, and 
 had transferred my pencil to you simj)ly for the 
 purposes of your labor in my behalf, when I 
 choose to dismiss you, I should expect the return 
 of my property. The States made no gifts to 
 the Federal Government for the sake of giving, 
 but only delegated certain powers for specific 
 purposes. Tliey never could have delegated the 
 power of coercion, since no one State or number 
 of States possessed that power as against their 
 sister States." 
 
88 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 " But surely, in entering into the bonds of 
 union, tliey formed a contract with each othei 
 which should be inviolable." 
 
 " Then, at the worst, the seceding States are 
 guilty of a breach of contract with the remain- 
 ino: States, but not with the General Govern- 
 ment, with which they made no contract. They 
 formed a union, it is true. But of what ? Of 
 sovereignties. IIow can those States be sove- 
 reignties which admit a power above them, 
 possessing tlie right of coercion ? To admit the 
 right of coercion is to deny the existence of 
 sovereignity." 
 
 " You can find nothing in the Constitution to 
 intimate the right of secession." 
 
 " Because its framers considered the right 
 sufficiently established by the very nature of 
 the confederation. The fears upon the subject 
 that were expressed by Patrick Henry, and 
 other zealous supporters of State Eights, were 
 quieted by the assurances of the opposite party, 
 who ridiculed the idea that a convention, 
 similar to that which in each State adopted 
 the Constitution, could not thereafter, in repre- 
 sentation of the popular will, withdraw such 
 
LOVE AXD SECESSION. 89 
 
 Stale from tlic confederacy. You have, in proof 
 of this, but to refer to the annals of tlie 
 occasion." 
 
 " I discard the theory as utterly inconsistent 
 with any legislative power. AVe have either a 
 government or we have not. If we have one, it 
 must possess within itself the power to sustain 
 itself. Our chief magistrate becomes otherwise 
 a mere puppet, and our Congress a shallow 
 mockery, and the shadow only of a legislative 
 body. Our nationality becomes a word, and 
 notliing more. Our place among the nations 
 becomes vacant, and the great Republic, our 
 pride and the world's wonder, crumbles into 
 fragments, and with its downfall perishes the 
 hope of the oppressed of every clime. I won- 
 der, Beverly, that you can coldly argue against 
 the very life of your country, and not feel the 
 parricide's remorse ! Have you no lingering 
 aifection for the glorious structure whicli our 
 fathers built for and bequeathed to us, and 
 which you now seek to hurl from its founda- 
 tions? Have you no pride and love for the 
 brave old flag that has been borne in the van- 
 guard to victory so often, that has shrouded the 
 
90 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 lifeless form of Lawrence, that has gladdened the 
 heart of the American wandering in foreign 
 climes, and has spread its sacred folds over 
 the head of Washington, here, on your own 
 native soil ?" 
 
 " Yes, Harold, yes ! I love the Union, and I 
 love and am proud of the brave okl flag; I 
 would die for either, and, although I reason 
 with you coldly, my soul yearns to them both, 
 and my heart aches when I think that soon, 
 perhaps, they will no more belong to me. But 
 I must sacrifice even my pride and love to a 
 stern sense of duty. So Washington did, when 
 he hurled his armed squadrons against the 
 proud banner of St. George, under which he 
 had been trained in soldiership, and had won 
 the laurel of his early fame. He, too, no doubt, 
 was not without a pang, to be sundered from his 
 share of Old England's glorious memories, the 
 land of his allegiance, the king wl\om he had 
 served, the soil where the bones of his ancestors 
 lay at rest. It would cause me many a throb 
 of agony to draw my sword against the stand- 
 ard of the Eepublic — but I would do it, Harold, 
 if my conscience bade me, althougli my nearest 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 91 
 
 friends, althoiigli you, Harold— and I love you 
 dearly — were in tlie foremost rank." 
 
 " Where I will strive to be, sliould my coun- 
 try call ui)on me. But Heaven forbid that we 
 should meet thus, Beverly !" 
 
 " Heaven forbid ?" he replied, with a sigh, as 
 he pressed Harold's hand. " But yonder comes 
 little Phil, running like mad, to tell us, doubt- 
 less, that breakfast is cold with waiting for us." 
 
 They retraced their steps, and found Miss 
 Kandolph and Oriana awaiting their presence at 
 the breakfast-table. 
 
92 FORT LAPAYETTE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTEK Yin. 
 
 DuKiNG the four succeeding days, the house 
 hold at Riverside manor were much alarmed 
 for Arthur's safety, for a violent fever had 
 ensued, and, to judge from the physician's 
 evasive answers, the event was doubtful. The 
 family were unremitting in their attentions, and 
 Oriana, quietly, but with her characteristic self- 
 will, insisted upon fulfilling her share of the 
 duties of a nurse. And no hand more gently 
 smoothed the sick man's pillow or administered 
 more tenderly the coolins: draus^ht. It seemed 
 that Arthur's sleep was calmer when her form 
 was bending over him, and even when his 
 thoughts were wandering and his eyes were 
 restless with delirium, they turned to welcome 
 her as she took her accustomed seat. Once, 
 while she watched there alone in the twilight, 
 the open book unheeded in her hand, and her 
 subdued eyes bent thoughtfully upon his face 
 as he slept unconscious of her presence, slie saw 
 
LOVE AXD SECESSION. 93 
 
 the wliite lips move and heard tlie murmur of 
 the low, musical voice. Her fair head was bent 
 to catch the words — they were the words of 
 delirium or of dreams, but they brought a 
 blush to her cheek. And yet she bent her head 
 still lower and listened, until her forehead 
 rested on the pillow, and when she looked 
 up again with a sigh, and fixed her eyes 
 mechanically on the page before her, there was 
 a trace of tears upon the drooping lashes. 
 
 He awoke from a refreshing slumber and it 
 seemed that the fever was gone ; for his glance 
 was calm and clear, and the old smile was upon 
 his lips. When he beheld Oriana, a slight flush 
 passed over his cheek. 
 
 "Are you indeed there. Miss Weems," he 
 said, " or do I still dream ? I have been dream- 
 ing, I know not what, but I was very happy." 
 He sighed, and closed his eyes, as if he longed 
 to woo back the vision which had fled. She 
 seemed to know what he had been dreaming, 
 for while his cheek paled again, hers glowed 
 like an autumn cloud at sunset. 
 
 " I trust you are much better, Mr. Wayne ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, much better. I fear I have been 
 
94 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 very troublesome to you all. You have been 
 very kind to me." 
 
 '' Do not speak so, Mr. WayDe," slie replied, 
 and a tear glistened in her eyes. " If you knew 
 how grateful we all are to you ! You have 
 suffered terribly for my sake, Mr. Wayne. You 
 have a brave, pure heart, and I could hate 
 myself with thinking that 1 once dared to wrong 
 and to insult it." 
 
 " In my turn, I say do not speak so. I pray 
 you, let there be no thoughts between us that 
 make you unhappy. What you accuse yourself 
 of, I have forgotten, or remembei' only as a 
 passing cloud that lingered for a moment on a 
 pure and lovely sky. There must be no self- 
 reproaches between us twain, Miss Weems, for 
 we must become strangers to each other in this 
 world, and when we part I would not leave 
 with you one bitter recollection." 
 
 There was sorrow in his tone, and the young 
 girl paused awhile and gazed through the lattice 
 earnestly into the gathering gloom of evening. 
 
 " We must not be strangers, Mr. Wayne." 
 
 " Alas ! yes, for to be otherwise were fatal, 
 at least to me." 
 
LOVE AXD SECESSION. 95 
 
 She did not answer, and both remained silent 
 and thoughtful, so long, indeed, that the night 
 shadows obscured the room. Oriana arose and 
 lit the lamp. 
 
 " I must go and prepare some supper for 
 you," she said, in a lighter tone. 
 
 He took her hand as she stood at his bed- 
 side and spoke in a low but earnest voice : 
 
 " You must forget what I have said to you, 
 Miss "Weems. I am weak and feverish, and my 
 brain has been wandering among misty dreams. 
 If I have spoken indiscreetly, you will forgive 
 me, will you not ?" 
 
 " It is I that am to be forgiven, for allowing 
 my patient to talk when the doctor prescribes 
 silence. I am going to get your supper, for I 
 am sure you must be hungry ; so, good bye," 
 she added gaily, as she smoothed the pillow, 
 and glided from the room. Oriana was silent 
 and reserved for some days after this, and 
 Harold seemed also to be disturbed and ill at 
 ease. Some link appeared to be broken between 
 them, for she did not look into his eyes with the 
 same frank, trusting gaze that had so often 
 returned his glance of tenderness, and some- 
 
90 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 times even she looked fm-tively away witL 
 lieiglitened color, when, with some gentle com- 
 monplace, his voice broke in upon her medita- 
 tion. Arthur was now able to sit for some hours 
 daily in his easy-chair, and Oriana often came 
 to him at such times, and although they con- 
 versed but rarely, and upon indifferent themes, 
 she was never weary of reading to him, at his 
 request, some favorite book. And sometimes, as 
 the author's sentiment found an echo in her heart, 
 she would pause and gaze listlessly at the wil- 
 low branches that waved before the casement, 
 and both would remain silent and pensive, till 
 some member of the family entered, and broke 
 in upon their revery. 
 
 " Come, Oriana," said Harold, one afternoon, 
 " let us walk to the top of yonder hillock, and 
 look at this glorious sunset." 
 
 She went for her bonnet and shawl, and 
 joined him. They had reached the summit of 
 the hill before either of them broke silence, 
 and then Oriana mechanically made some com- 
 monplace remark about the beauty of the 
 western sky. He replied with a monosyllable, 
 and sat down upon a moss-covered rock. She 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 97 
 
 plucked a few wild-flowers, and toyed with 
 tliem. 
 
 " Oriana, Artliur is nnich better now." 
 
 " Much better, Harold." 
 
 " 1 have no fears for his safety now. I think 
 I shall go to-morrow." 
 
 "Go, Harold?" 
 
 " Yes, to l^ew York. The President has 
 appealed to the States for troops. I am no 
 soldier, but I cannot remain idle while my 
 fellow citizens are rallying to arms." 
 
 " Will you fight, Harold ?" 
 
 " K needs be." 
 
 " Against your countrymen ?" 
 
 " Against traitors." 
 
 " Against me, perhaps." 
 
 " Heaven forbid that the blood of any of your 
 kin should be upon my hands. I know how 
 much you have suffered, dearest, with the 
 thought that this unhappy business may sepa- 
 rate us for a time. Think you that the eye of 
 affection could fail to notice your dejection and 
 reflective mood for some days past ?" 
 
 Her face grew crimson, and she tore nervously 
 the petals of the. flower in her hand. 
 
98 rORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 " Oriana, yon are mj betrothed, and no 
 earthly discords should sever our destinies or 
 estrange our hearts. Why should we part at 
 all. Be mine at once, Oriana, and go with me 
 to the loyal ISTorth, for none may tell how soon 
 a barrier may be set between your home and 
 me." 
 
 " That would be treason to my kindred and 
 the home of my birth." 
 
 " And to be severed from me — would it not 
 be treason to your heart ?" 
 
 She did not answer. 
 
 " I have spoken to Beverly about it, and he 
 will not seek to control you. "\Ye are most 
 nnhappy, Oriana, in our national troubles ; why 
 should we be so in our domestic ties. We can 
 be blest, even among the rude alarms of war. 
 This strife will soon be over, and you shall see 
 the old homestead once again. But while the 
 dark cloud lowers, I call upon you, in the name 
 of your pledged affection, to share my fortunes 
 with me, and bless me with this dear hand." 
 
 That hand remained passively within his own, 
 but her bosom swelled with emotion, and pre- 
 sently the large tears rolled upon her cheek. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 99 
 
 He would have pressed her to his bosom, but 
 she gently turned from him, and sinking upon 
 the sward, sobbed through her clasped fingers. 
 
 " Why are you thus unhappy, dear Oriana ?" 
 he murmured, as he bent tenderly above her. 
 " Surely you do not love me less because of this 
 poison of rebellion that infects the land. And 
 with love, woman's best consolation, to be your 
 comforter, why should you be unhappy ?" 
 
 She arose, pale and excited, and raised his 
 hand to her lips. The act seemed to him a 
 strange one for an affianced bride, and he gazed 
 upon her with a troubled air. 
 
 " Let us go home, Harold." 
 
 " But tell me that you love me." 
 
 She placed her two hands lightly about his 
 neck, and looked up mournfully but steadily 
 into his face. 
 
 " I will be your true wife, Harold, and pray 
 heaven I may love you as you deserve to be 
 loved. But I am not well to-day, Harold. 
 Let us speak no more of this now, for there 
 is something at my heart that must be quieted 
 with penitence and prayer. Oh, do not ques- 
 tion me, Harold," she added, as she leaned 
 
100 ^'ORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 her clieek upon ]iis breast ; " we will talk with 
 Beverly, and to-morrow I shall be stronger 
 and less foolish. Come, Harold, let ns go 
 home." 
 
 She placed her arm within his, and they 
 walked silently homeward. When they reached 
 the house, Oriana was hastening to her chamber, 
 but she lingered at the threshold, and returned 
 to Harold. 
 
 " I am not well to-night, and shall not come 
 down to tea. Good night, Harold. Smile upon 
 me as you were wont to do," she added, as she 
 pressed his hand and raised her swollen eyes, 
 beneath whose white lids were crushed two tear- 
 drops that were striving to burst forth. " Give 
 me the smile of the old time, and the old kiss, 
 Harold," and she raised her forehead to receive 
 it. Do not look disturbed ; I have but a head- 
 ache, and shall be well to-morrow. Good 
 night — dear — Harold. ' ' 
 
 She strove to look pleasantly as she left the 
 room, but Harold was bewildered and anxious, 
 and, till the summons came for supper, he paced 
 the veranda with slow and meditative steps. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 101 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The following morning was warm and spring- 
 like, and Arthur was sufficiently strong and well 
 to walk out a little in the open air. He had 
 been seated upon the veranda conversing with 
 Beverly and Harold, when the latter proposed a 
 stroll with Beverly, with whom he wished to 
 converse in relation to his proposed marriage. 
 As the beams of the imclouded sun had already 
 chased away the morning dew, and the air was 
 warm and balmy, Arthur walked out into the 
 garden and breathed the freshness of the atmos- 
 phere with the . exhilaration of a convalescent 
 freed for the first time from the sick-room. 
 Accidentally, or by instinct, he turned his steps 
 to the little grove which he knew was Oriana's 
 favorite haunt ; and there, indeed, she sat, upon 
 the rustic bench, above which the drooping 
 limbs of the willow formed a leafy canopy. 
 Tlie pensive girl, her white hand, on which she 
 leaned, buried among the raven tresses, waa 
 
102 FORT LAl^AYETTE; OR, 
 
 gazing fixedly into the depths of the clear sky, 
 as if she sought to penetrate that azure veil, and 
 find some hope realized among the mysteries of 
 the space beyond. The neglected volume had 
 fallen from her laj), and lay among the blue- 
 bells at her feet. Arthm-'s feeble steps were 
 unheard upon the sward, and he had taken 
 his seat beside her, before, conscious of an intru- 
 der, she started from her dream. 
 
 " The first pilgrimage of my convalescence is 
 to your bower, my gentle nurse. 1 have come 
 to thank you for more kindness than I can ever 
 repay, except with grateful thoughts." 
 
 She had risen when she became aware of his 
 presence; and when she resumed her seat, it 
 seemed with hesitation, and almost an effort, as 
 if two impulses were struggling within her. 
 But lier pleasure to see him abroad again was 
 too hearty to be checked, and she timidly gave 
 him the hand which his extended palm invited 
 to a friendly grasp. 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Wayne, I am very glad to see 
 you so far recovered." 
 
 "To your kind offices chiefly I owe it, and 
 those of my good friends, your brother and 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 193 
 
 Harold, and our excellent Miss Eandolpli. My 
 sick-room lias been tlie test of so much friend- 
 ship, that I could almost be sinful enough to 
 regret the returning health which makes me no 
 longer a dependent on your care. But you are 
 pale, Miss Weems. Or is it that my eyes are 
 unused to this broad daylight ? Indeed, I trust 
 you are not ill ?" 
 
 "Oh, no, I am quite well," she answered; but 
 it was with an involuntary sigh that was in con- 
 trast with the words. " But you are not strong 
 yet, Mr. Wayne, and I must not let you linger 
 too long in the fresh morning air. We had best 
 go in under shelter of the veranda." 
 
 She arose, and would have led the way, but 
 he detained her gently with a light touch upon 
 her sleeve. 
 
 '* Stay one moment, I pray you. I seem to 
 breathe new life with this pure air, and the per- 
 fume of these bowers awakens within me an 
 inexpressible and calm delight. I shall be all 
 the better for one tranquil hour with nature in 
 bloom, if you, like the guardian nymph of these 
 floral treasures, will sit beside me." 
 
 He drew her gently back into the seat, and 
 
104: FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 looked long and earnestly upon lier face. She 
 felt his gaze, but dared not return it, and her 
 fair head drooped like a flower that bends 
 beneath the glance of a scorching sun. 
 
 " Miss Weems," he said at last, but his voice 
 was so low and tremulous that it scarce rose 
 above the rustle of the swinging willoTV boughs, 
 " jou are soon to be a bride, and in your path 
 the kind Destinies will shower blessings. Wlien 
 they wreathe the orange blossoms in your hair, 
 aud you are led to the altar by the hand to 
 which you must cling for life, if I should not be 
 there to wish you joy, you will not deem, will 
 you, that 1 am less your friend ?" 
 
 The fair head drooping yet lower was her only 
 answer. 
 
 "And when you shall be the mistress of a 
 home where Content will be shrined, the com- 
 panion of your virtues, and over your thresliold 
 many friends shall be welcomed, if I should 
 never sit beside your hearthstone, you will not, 
 will you, believe that I have forgotten, or that I 
 could forget ?" 
 
 Still lower the fau' head drooped, but she 
 answered only with a falling tear. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 105 
 
 *' I told 5'ou the other day that we should be 
 strangers through life, and why, I must not tell, 
 although perhaps your woman's heart may whis- 
 per, and yet not condemn me for that whicli. 
 Heaven knows, I have struggled against — alas, 
 in vain ! Do not turn from me. I would not 
 breathe a word to you that in all honor you 
 should not hear, although my heart seems burst- 
 ing with its longing, and I would yield my soul 
 with rapture from its frail casket, for but one 
 moment's right to give its secret wings. I will 
 bid you farewell to-morrow " 
 
 " To-morrow !" 
 
 " Yes, the doctor says that the sea air will do 
 me good, and an occasion offers to-morrow which 
 I shall embrace. It will be like setting forth 
 upon a journey through endless solitudes, where 
 my only companions will be a memory and a 
 sorrow." 
 
 He paused a while, but continued with an 
 effort at composure. 
 
 " Our hearts are tyrants to us. Miss Weems, 
 and will not, sometimes, be tutored into silence. 
 I see that I have moved, but I trust not offended 
 you." 
 
 5* 
 
106 I'OI^T LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 ^'You have not ofiended," slie murmiired, 
 but in so low a tone that perhaps the words 
 were lost in the faint moan of the swaying 
 foliage. 
 
 "What I have said," he continued earnestly, 
 and taking her hand with a gentle but respectful 
 pressure, " has been spoken as one who is dying 
 speaks with his fleeting breath ; for evermore my 
 lips shall be shackled against my heart, and the 
 past shall be sealed and avoided as a forbidden 
 theme. We are, then, good fi-iends at parting, 
 are we not ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And, believe me, I shall be happiest when I 
 think that you are happy — for you will be happy." 
 
 She sighed so deeply that the words were 
 checked upon his lips, as if some new emotion 
 had turned the current of his thought. 
 
 "Are you not happy?" 
 
 The tears that, in spite of her endeavor, burst 
 from beneath the downcast lids, answered him as 
 words could not have done. He was agit-ated 
 and unnerved, and, leaning his brow against his 
 hand, remained silent while she wept. 
 
 "Harold is a noble fellow," he said at last. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. lOY 
 
 after a long silence, and when she had grown 
 calmer, " and deserves to be loved as I am sure 
 you love him." 
 
 " Oh, he has a noble heart, and I would die 
 rather than cause him pain." 
 
 " And you love him ?" 
 
 " I thouorht I loved him." 
 
 The words were faint — hardly more than a 
 breath upon her lips; but he heard them, and 
 his heart grew big with an undefined awe, as if 
 some vague danger were looming among the 
 shadows of his destiny. Oriana turned to him 
 suddenly, and clasped his hand within her trem- 
 bling fingers. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Wayne ! you must go, and never 
 see me more. I am standing on the brink of an 
 abyss, and my heart bids me leap. I see the 
 danger, and, oh God ! I have prayed for power to 
 yhun it. - But Arthur, Arthur, if you do not 
 help me, I am lost. You are a man, an honest 
 man, an honorable man, who will not wrong 
 your friend, or tempt the woman that cannot 
 love you without sin. Oh, save me from myself 
 — from you — from the cruel wrong that I could 
 even dream of against him to whom I have 
 
108 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 sworn my Tvoman's faith. I am a child in yonr 
 hands, Arthm*, and in the face of the reproach- 
 ing Providence above me, I feel — 1 feel that I 
 am at your mercy. I feel that what yon speak 
 I mnst listen to ; that should yon bid me stand 
 beside yon at the altar, I should not have cour- 
 age to refuse. I feel, oh God ! Arthur, that I love 
 yon, and am betrothed to Harold. But yon are 
 strong — you have courage, will, the power to defy 
 such weakness of the heart — and yon will save 
 me, for I know yon are a good and honest man." 
 
 As she spoke, with her face upturned to him, 
 and the hot tears rolling down her cheeks, her 
 fingers convulsively clasped about his hand, and 
 her form bending closer and closer toward him, 
 till her cheek was resting on his bosom, Arthur 
 shuddered with intensity of feeling, and from his 
 averted eyes the scalding drops, that had never 
 once before moistened their surface, betrayed 
 how terribly he was shaken with emotion. 
 
 But while she spoke, rapt as they were within 
 themselves, they saw not one who stood with 
 folded arms beside the rustic bench, and gazed 
 upon them. 
 
 " As God is my hope," said Arthur," I will 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 109 
 
 disarm temptation. Fear not. From this hour 
 we part. Henceforth the living and the dead 
 shall not be more estranged than we." 
 
 lie arose, but started as if an apparition met 
 his gaze. Oriana knelt beside him, and touched 
 her lips to his hand in gratitude. An arm raised 
 her tenderly, and a gentle voice murmured her 
 name. 
 
 It was n®t Arthur's. 
 
 Oriana raised her head, with a faint cry of 
 terror. She gasped and swooned upon the 
 intruder's breast. 
 
 It was Harold Hare who held her in his 
 arms. 
 
 Arthur, with folded arms, stood erect, but 
 pale, in the presence of his friend. His eye, 
 sorrowful, yet calm, was fixed upon Harold, as 
 if awaiting his angry glance. But Harold 
 lookec" only on the lifefess form he held, and 
 parting the tresses from her cold brow, his lips 
 rested there a moment wit.li such a fond caress 
 as sometimes a father gives his child. 
 
 " Poor girl !" he murmured, '' would that my 
 sorrow could avail for both. Arthur, I have 
 heard enough to know you would not do me 
 
110 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 wrong. Grief is in store for us, but let us not 
 be enemies." 
 
 Mournfully, he gave bis band to Arthur, and 
 Oriana, as she wakened from her trance, beheld 
 them locked in that sad grasp, like two twin 
 statues of despair. 
 
 They led her to the house, and then the two 
 young men walked out alone, and talked 
 frankly and tranquilly upon the subject. It was 
 determined that both should leave Kiverside 
 manor on the morrow, and that Oriana should 
 be left to commune with her own heart, and 
 take counsel of time and meditation. They 
 would not grieve Beverly with their secret, at 
 least not for the present, when his sister was so 
 ill prepared to bear remonstrance or reproof. 
 Harold wrote a kind letter for Oriana, in which 
 he released her from her pledged faith, asking 
 only that she should take time to study her 
 heart, but in no wise let a sense of duty stand in 
 the way of her happiness. He took pains to 
 conceal the depth of his own affliction, and to 
 avoid whatever she might construe as reproach. 
 
 They would have gone without an interview 
 with Oriana, but that would have seemed 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. m 
 
 strange to Beverly. However, Oriana, although 
 pale and nervous, met them in the morning with 
 more composure than they had anticipated. 
 Harold, just before starting, drew her aside, and 
 placed the letter in her hand. 
 
 " That will tell you all I would say, and you 
 must read it when your heart is strong and firm. 
 Do not look so wretched. All may yet be well. 
 I would fain see you smile before I go." 
 
 But though she had evidently nerved herself 
 to be composed, the tears would come, and her 
 heart seemed rising to her throat and about to 
 burst in sobs. 
 
 " I will be your true wife, Harold, and I will 
 love you. Do not desert me, do not cast 
 me from you. I cannot bear to be so guilty. 
 Indeed, Harold, I will be true and faithful to 
 
 you." 
 
 There is no guilt in that young heart," he 
 answered, as he kissed her forehead. " But 
 now, we must not talk of love ; hereafter, per- 
 haps, when time and absence shall teach us 
 where to choose for happiness. Part from me 
 now as if I were your brother, and give me a 
 sister's kiss. Would you see Arthur ?" 
 
112 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 She trembled and wliisj^ered painfully : 
 
 " No, Harold, no — I dare not. Oh, Harold, 
 bid him forget me." 
 
 " It is better that yon should not see him. 
 Farewell ! be brave. We are good friends, re- 
 member. Farewell, dear girl." 
 
 Beverly had been waiting with the carriage, 
 and as the time was short, he called to Harold. 
 Arthur, who stood at the carriage wheel, simply 
 raised his hat to Oriana, as if in a parting 
 salute. He would have given his right hand to 
 have pressed hers for a moment ; but his will 
 was iron, and he did not once look back as the 
 carriage whirled away. 
 
LOVE AXD SECESSION. 113 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 In the drawing-room of an elegant mansion 
 in a fashionable quarter of the city of E'ew 
 York, toward the close of April, a social party 
 were assembled, distributed mostly in small con- 
 versational groups. The head of the establish- 
 ment, a pompous, well-to-do merchant, stout, 
 short, and baldheaded, and evidently well satis- 
 fied with himself and his position in society, 
 was vehemently expressing his opinions upon the 
 affairs of the nation to an attentive audience of 
 two or three elderly business men, with a ponder- 
 ous earnestness that proved him, in his own esti- 
 mation, as much au fait in political affairs as in 
 the routine of his counting-room. An individual 
 of middle age, a man of the world, apparently, 
 who was seated at a side-table, carelessly glanc- 
 ing over a book of engravings, was the only 
 one who occasionally exasperated the pompous 
 gentleman with contradictions or ill-timed inter- 
 ruptions. 
 
114 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 "The government must be sustained," said 
 tlie stout gentleman, " and we, the merchants of 
 the ISTorth, will do it. It is money, sir, monej," 
 he continued, unconsciously rattling the cojn in 
 his breeches pocket, " that settles every question 
 at the present day, and our money will bring 
 these beggarly rebels to their senses. They 
 can't do without us, sir. They would be ruined 
 in six months, if shut out from commercial inter- 
 course with the JSTorth." 
 
 " How long before you would be ruined by 
 the operations of the same cause ?" inquired the 
 individual at the side-table. 
 
 " Sir, we of the [N'orth hold the wealth of the 
 country in our pockets. They can't fight against 
 our money — they can't do it, sir." 
 
 " Your ancestors fought against money, and 
 fought passably well." 
 
 " Yes, sir, for the great principles of human 
 liberty." 
 
 " "Which these rebels believe they are fighting 
 for. You have need of all your money to keep 
 a respectable arm}^ in the field. These South- 
 erners may have to fight in rags, as insurgents 
 generally do : witness the struggle of your Eevo- 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 115 
 
 lutioii ; but until you lay waste their corn-fields 
 and drive off their cattle, they will have full 
 stomachs, and that, after all, is the first con- 
 sideration." 
 
 " You are an alien, sir, a foreigner ; you know 
 nothing of our great institutions; you know 
 notliing of the wealth of the ]S"orth, and the 
 spirit of the people." 
 
 " I see a great deal of bunting in the streets, 
 and hear any quantity of declamation at your 
 popular gatherings. But as I journeyed north- 
 ward from 'New Orleans, I saw the same in the 
 South — perhaps more of it." 
 
 "And could not distinguish between the 
 frenzy of treason and the enthusiasm of 
 patriotism ?" 
 
 " Not at all ; except that treason seemed more 
 earnest and unanimous." 
 
 " You have seen with the eyes of an English- 
 man — of one hostile to our institutions." 
 
 " Oh, no ; as a man of the world, a traveller, 
 without prejudice or passion, receiving impres- 
 sions and noting them. I like your country ; I 
 like your people. I have observed foibles in the 
 North and in the South, but there is an under- 
 
116 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 cuiTent of strong feeling and good sense which I 
 have noted and admired. I think your quarrel 
 is one of foibles — one conceived in the spirit of 
 petulance, and about to be prosecuted in the 
 spirit of exaltation. I believe the professed 
 mutual hatred of the sections to be superficial, 
 and that it could be cancelled. It is fostered by 
 the bitterness of fanatics, assisted by a very 
 natural disinclination on the part of the masses 
 to yield a disputed point. K hostilities should 
 cease to-morrow, you would be better friends 
 than ever." 
 
 " But the principle, sir ! The right of the 
 thing, and the wrong of the thing! Can we 
 parley with traitors? Can we negotiate with 
 armed rebellion? Is it not our paramount 
 duty to set at rest forever the doctrine of seces- 
 sion?" 
 
 " As a matter of policy, perhaps. But as a 
 right, I doubt it. Your government I look upon 
 as a mere agency appointed by contracting 
 parties to transact certain aflTairs for their con- 
 venience. Should one or more of those con- 
 tracting parties, sovereignties in themselves, 
 hold it to their interest to transact their business 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. II7 
 
 without the assistance of an agent, I cannot per- 
 ceive that the right can be denied by any pro- 
 vision of the contract. In your case, the em- 
 ployers have dismissed their agent, who seeks to 
 reinstate the office by force of arms. As 
 justly might my lawyer, when I no longer 
 need his services, attempt to coerce me into 
 a continuance of business relations, by invad- 
 ing my residence with a loaded pistol. The 
 States, without extinguishing their sovereignty, 
 created the Federal Government ; it is the child 
 of State legislation, and now the child seeks to 
 chastise and control the parent. The General 
 Government can possess no inherent or self- 
 created function ; its power, its very existence, 
 were granted for certain uses. As regards your 
 State's connection with that Government, no 
 other State has the right to interfere ; but as for 
 another State's connection with it, the power 
 that made it can unmake." 
 
 " So you would have the government quietly 
 acquiesce in the robbery of public property, the 
 occupation of Federal strongholds and the seizure 
 of ships and revenues in which they have but 
 a share ?" 
 
118 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 *' If, by the necessity of tlie case, the seceded 
 States hold in their possession more than their 
 share of public property, a division should be 
 made by arbitration, as in other cases where a 
 distribution of common property is required. 
 It may have been a wrong and an insult to 
 bombard Fort Sumter and haul down the Federal 
 flag, but that does not establish a right on the 
 part of the Federal Government to coerce the 
 wrong-doing States into a union with the others. 
 And that, I take it, is the avowed purpose of 
 your administration." 
 
 " Yes, and that purpose will be fulfilled. 
 We have the money to do it, and we will do it, 
 sir." 
 
 A tall, thin gentleman, with a white cravat 
 and a bilious complexion, approached the party 
 from a difi'erent part of the room. 
 
 " It can't be done with money, Mr. Pursely," 
 said the new comer, '• Unless the great, the 
 divine principle of universal human liberty is 
 invoked. An offended but merciful Providence 
 has given the people this chance for redemption, 
 in the opportunity to strike the shackle from the 
 slave. I hold the war a blessing to the nation 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. HQ 
 
 and to humanity, in that it will cleanse the land 
 from its curse of slavery. It is an invitation 
 from God to wipe away the record of our past 
 tardiness and tolerance, by striking at the great 
 sin with fire and sword. The blood of millions 
 is nothing — the woe, the lamentation, the ruin 
 of the land is nothing — the overthrow of the 
 Union itself is nothing, if we can but win God's 
 smile by setting a brand in the hand of the 
 bondman to scourge his master. But assuredly 
 unless we arouse the slave to seize the torch and 
 the dagger, and avenge the wrongs of his race, 
 Providence will frown upon our efforts, and our 
 arms will not prevail." 
 
 A tall man in military undress replied with 
 considerable emphasis : 
 
 "Then your black-coated gentry must fight 
 their own battle. The people will not arm if 
 abolition is to be the watchword. I for one will 
 not strike a blow if it be not understood that 
 the institutions of the South shall be respected." 
 
 " Tlie government must be sustained, that is 
 the point," cried Mr. Pursely. " It matters 
 little what becomes of the negro, but the 
 government must be sustained. Otherwise, 
 
120 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 what security will there be for property, and 
 what will become of trade ?" 
 
 " Who thinks of trade or property at such a 
 crisis ?" interrupted an enthusiast, in figured 
 trowsers and a gay cravat. " Our beloved Union 
 must and shall be preserved. The fabric that 
 our fathers reared for us must not be allowed to 
 crumble. We will prop it with our mangled 
 bodies," and he brushed a speck of dust from 
 the fine broadcloth of his sleeve. 
 
 " Tlie insult to our flag must be wiped out," 
 said the military gentleman. " The honor of the 
 glorious stripes and stars must be vindicated to 
 the world." 
 
 " Let us chastise these boasting Southrons," 
 ^aid another, " and prove our supremacy in 
 arms, and I shall be satisfied." 
 
 ^' But above all," insisted a third, " we must 
 check the sneers and exultation of European 
 powers, and show them that we have not for- 
 gotten the art of war since the days of 1776 
 and 1812." 
 
 " I should like to know what you are going 
 to fight about," said the Englishman, quietly ; 
 " for there appears to be much diversity of 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 121 
 
 opinion. However, if you are determined to 
 cut each others' throats, perhaps one pretext is 
 as good as another, and a dozen better than 
 only one." 
 
 In the quiet recess of a window, shadowed by 
 the crimsom curtains, sat a fail* young girl, and 
 a man, young and handsome, but upon whose 
 countenance the traces of dissipation and of 
 passion were deeply marked. Miranda Ayleff 
 was a Yirginian, the cousin and quondam play- 
 mate of Oriana Weems, like her an orphan, and 
 a ward of Beverly. Her companion was Philip 
 Searle. She had known him in Richmond, and 
 had become much attached to him,^ut his 
 habits and character were such, that her friends, 
 and Beverly chiefly, had earnestly discouraged 
 their intimacy. Philip left for the JSTorth, and 
 Miranda, who at the date of our story was the 
 guest of Mrs. Pursely, her relative, met him in 
 IS'ew York, after a separation of two years. 
 Philip, who, in spite of his evil ways, was sin- 
 gularly handsome and agreeable in manners, 
 found little difficulty in fanning the old flame, 
 and, upon the plea of old acquaintance, became 
 a frequent visitor upon Miranda at Mr. Pursely's 
 6 
 
1-22 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 mansion, where we now find them, earnestly 
 conversing, but in low tones, in the little soli- 
 tude of the great bay window. 
 
 "You reproach me with vices which your 
 unkindness has helped to stain me with. Driven 
 from your presence, whom alone I cared to live 
 for, what marvel if I sought oblivion in the 
 wine-cup and the dice-box? Give me one 
 chance, Miranda, to redeem myself. Let me call 
 you wife, and you will become my guardian 
 angel, and save me from myself." 
 
 " You know that I love you, Philip," she 
 replied, " and willingly would I share your des- 
 tiny, ho;^ng to win you from evil. Go with me 
 to Kichmond. We will speak with Beverly, who 
 is kind and truly loves me. We will convince 
 him of your good purposes, and will win his 
 consent to our union." 
 
 "ITo, ^Miranda; Beverly and your friends in 
 Richmond will never believe me worthy of you. 
 Besides, it would be dangerous for me to visit 
 Richmond. I have identified myself with the 
 ISTorthern cause, and although, for your sake, I 
 might refrain from bearing arms against Yirgi- 
 nia, yet I have little sympathy with any there, 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 123 
 
 where I liave been branded as a drunkard and a 
 gambler." 
 
 " Yet, Philip, is it not the land of your birth — 
 the home of your boyhood ?" 
 
 '' The land of my shame and humiliation. ]N"o, 
 Miranda, I will not return to Yirginia. And if 
 you love me, you will not return. "What are 
 these senseless quarrels to us ? We can be happy 
 in each other's love, and forget that madmen are 
 at war around us. "Why will you not trust me, 
 Miranda — why do you thus withhold from me 
 my onlj hope of redemption from the terrible 
 vice that is killing me ? I put my destiny, my 
 very life in your keeping, and you hesitate to 
 accept the trust that alone can save me. Oh, 
 Miranda ! you do not love me." 
 
 "Philip, I cannot renounce my friends, my 
 dear country, the home of my childhood." 
 
 " "Kien look you what will be my fate : I will 
 join the armies of the ISTorth, and fling away my 
 life in battle against my native soil. Ruin and 
 death cannot come too soon when you forsake me." 
 
 Miranda remained silent, but, through the 
 gloom of the recess, he could see the glistening 
 of a tear upon her cheek. 
 
124: FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 The hall-bell rang, and the servant brought in 
 a card for Miss Ajleff. Following it, Arthur 
 Wajne was ushered into the room. 
 
 She rose to receive him, somewhat surprised at 
 a visit from a stranger. 
 
 " I have brought these letters for jou from my 
 good friend Beverly Weems," said Arthur. "At 
 his request, I have ventured to call in person, 
 most happy, if you will forgive the presumption, 
 in the opportunity." 
 
 She gave her hand, and welcomed him grace- 
 fully and warmly, and, having introduced Mr. 
 Searle, excused herself while she glanced at the 
 contents of Beverly's letter. While thus em- 
 ployed, Arthur marked her changing color; and 
 then, lifting his eyes lest his scrutiny might be 
 rude, observed Philip's dark eye fixed upon her 
 with a suspicious and searching expression. Then 
 Philip looked up, and their glances met — the 
 calm blue eye and the flashing black — but for an 
 instant, but long enough to confirm the instinc- 
 tive feeling that there was no sympathy between 
 their hearts. 
 
 A half-hour's general conversation ensued, but 
 Philip appeared restless and uneasy, and rose to 
 
LOYE AND SECESSION. 125 
 
 take liis leave. She followed liim to the parlor 
 door. 
 
 '' Come to me to-morrow," she said, as she 
 gave her hand, " and we will talk again." 
 
 A smile of triumph rested upon his pale lips 
 for a second; but he pressed her hand, and, 
 murmuring an affectionate farewell, withdrew. 
 
 Arthur remained a few moments, but observ- 
 ing that Miranda was pensive and absent, he 
 bade her good evening, accepting her urgent 
 invitation to call at an early period. 
 
126 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTEE XI. 
 
 " Well, Ai-thur," said Harold Hare, entering 
 tiie room of the former at liis hotel, on the fol- 
 lowing evening, " I have come to bid you good 
 bje. I start for home to-morrow morning," he 
 added, in reply to Arthur's questioning glance. 
 " I am to have a company of Providence boys in 
 
 my old friend Colonel K 's regiment. And 
 
 after a little brisk recruiting, ho ! for Washing- 
 ton and the wars !" 
 
 " You have determined for the war, then ?" 
 
 " Of course. And you ?" 
 
 " I shall go to my Vermont farm, and live 
 quietly among my books and pastures." 
 
 " A dull life, Ai'thur, when every wind that 
 blows will bring to your ears the swell of mar- 
 tial music and the din of arms." 
 
 " If I were in love with the pomp of war, 
 which, thank heaven, I am not, Harold, I would 
 rather dwell in a hermit's cave, than follow the 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 127 
 
 ^fe and drum over the bodies of my Soutliem 
 coimtrjmen." 
 
 ^' Those Southern countrymen, that you seem 
 to love better than the countjy they would ruin, 
 would have little remorse in marching over your 
 body, even among the ashes of your farm-house. 
 Doubtless you would stand at your threshold, 
 and welcome their butchery, should their ruffian 
 legions ravage our land as far as your Green 
 Mountains." 
 
 " I do not think they will invade one foot 
 of ]N'orthern soil, unless compelled by strict 
 military necessity. However, should the State 
 to which I owe allegiance be attacked by foreign 
 or domestic foe, I will stand among its defenders. 
 But, dear Harold, let us not argue this sad sub- 
 ject, which it is grief enough but to contemplate. 
 Tell me of your plans, and how I shall commu- 
 nicate with you, while you are absent. My 
 distress about this unhappy war will be keener, 
 when I feel that my dear friend may be its 
 victim." 
 
 Harold pressed his hand affectionately, and 
 the two friends spoke of the misty future, till 
 Harold arose to depart. They had not men- 
 
123 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 tioned Oriana's name, tliougli slie was in tlieir 
 thonglits, and each, as lie bade farewell, knew 
 that some i^art of the other's sadness was for her 
 sake. 
 
 Arthur accompanied Harold a short distance 
 up Broadway, and returning, found at the office 
 of the hotel, a letter, without post-mark, to his 
 address. He stepped into the reading-room to 
 peruse it. It was from Beverly, and ran thus : 
 
 " PtiCHMOXD, May — , ISGl. 
 " Deae Aethue : The departure of a friend gives me an 
 opportunity to write you about a matter that I beg you 
 will attend to, for my sake, thoroughly. I learned this 
 morning, upon receipt of a letter from Mr. Pursely, that 
 Miranda Ayleff, of whom we spoke together, and to 
 whom I presume you have already delivered my commu- 
 nication, is receiving the visits of one Philip Searle, to 
 whom, some two years since, she was much attached. 
 £fitre nous, Arthur, I can tell you, the man is a scoundrel 
 of the deepest dye. Xot only a drunkard and a gambler, 
 but dishonest, and unfit for any decent girl's society. He 
 is guilty of forgery against me, and, against my con- 
 science, I hushed the matter only out of consideration for 
 her feelings. I would still have concealed the matter 
 from her, had this resumption of their intimacy not 
 ocourred. But her welfare must cancel all scruples of 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. ^gg 
 
 that character ; and I therefore entreat you to see her at 
 once, and unmask the man fully and unequivocally. If 
 necessary you may show my letter for that purpose. I 
 would go on to New York myself immediately, were I not 
 employed upon a State mission of exceeding delicacy and 
 importance ; but I have full confidence in your good 
 judgment. Spare no arguments to induce her to return 
 immediately to Eichmond. 
 
 " Oriana has not been well ; I know not what ails her, 
 but, though she makes no complaint, the girl seems really 
 ill. She knows not of my writing, for I would not pain 
 her about Miranda, of whom she is very fond. But I can 
 venture, without consulting her, to send you her good 
 wishes. Let me hear from you in fuU about what I have 
 written. Your friend. 
 
 " Beverly TVeems." 
 
 "P. S.— Knowing that you must yet be weak with your 
 late illness, I would have troubled Harold, rather than 
 you, about this matter, but I am ignorant of his present 
 whereabouts, while I know that you contemplated remain- 
 ing a week or so in New York. Write me about the ugly 
 bite in the shoulder, from which I trust you are well 
 recovered. B "W " 
 
 Arthur looked up from the letter, and beheld 
 Pliilip Searle seated at the opposite side of the 
 table. He had entered while Arthur's attention 
 Avas absorbed in reading, and having glanced at 
 
 6* 
 
130 ^ORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 the address of the envelope which lay upon the 
 table, he recognized the hand of Beverly. This 
 prompted him to pause, and taking np one of 
 the newspapers which were strewn about the 
 table, he sat down, and while he appeared to 
 read, glanced furtively at his vis-d-vis over the 
 paper's edge. "Wlien his presence was noticed, 
 he bowed, and Arthur, with a slight and stern 
 inclination of the head, fixed his calm eye upon 
 him with a searching severity that brought a 
 flush of anger to Philip's brow. 
 
 " That is Weems' hand," he muttered, in- 
 wardly, " and by that fellow's look, I fancy that 
 no less a person than myself is the subject of 
 his epistle." 
 
 Arthur had walked away, but, in his surprise 
 at the unexpected presence of Searle, he had 
 allowed the letter to remain uj)on the table. 
 jSTo sooner had he passed out of the room, than 
 Philij) quietly but rapidly stretched his hand 
 beneath the pile of scattered journals, and drew 
 it toward him. It required but an instant for 
 his quick eye to catch the substance. His face 
 grew livid, and his teeth grated harshly with 
 suppressed rage. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 131 
 
 " We sliall have a game of plot and counter- 
 plot before this ends, my man," he muttered. 
 
 There were pen and paper on the table, and 
 he wrote a few lines hastily, placed them in the 
 envelope, and put Beverly's letter in his pocket. 
 He had hardly finished when Arthur reentered 
 the room, advanced rapidly to the table, and, 
 with a look of relief, took up the envelope and 
 its contents, and again left the room. Philip's 
 lip curled beneath the black moustache with a 
 smile of triumphant malice. 
 
 " Keep it safe in your pocket for a few hours, 
 my gamecock, and my heiress to a beggar-girl, 
 I'll have stone walls between you and me." 
 
132 FORT LAFAYETTE; OB, 
 
 CHAPTER Xn. 
 
 The evening was somewhat advanced, but 
 Arthur determined at once to seek an interview 
 with Miss Ayleff. Hastily arranging his toilet, 
 he walked briskly np Broadway, revolving in 
 his mind a fit course for fulfilling his delicate 
 errand. 
 
 To shorten his way, he turned into a cross 
 street in the upper part of the city. As he 
 approached the hall door of a large brick house, 
 his eye chanced to fall upon a man who was 
 ringing for admittance. The light from the 
 street lamp fell full upon his face, and he recog- 
 nized the features of Philip Searle. At that 
 moment the door was opened, and Philip en- 
 tered. Arthur would have passed on, but 
 something in the appearance of the house 
 arrested his attention, and, on closer scrutiny, 
 revealed to him its character. One of those 
 impulses which sometimes sway our actions, 
 tempted him to enter, and learn, if possible. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. I33 
 
 something further respecting the habits of the 
 man whose scheme he had been commissioned 
 to thwart. A moment's reflection might have 
 changed his purpose, but his hand was already 
 npon the bell, and the summons was quickly- 
 answered by a good-looking but faded young 
 woman, with painted cheeks and gay attire. 
 She fixed her keen, bold eyes upon him for a 
 few seconds, and then, tossing her ringlets, 
 pertly invited him to enter. 
 
 "Who is within?" asked Arthur, standing in 
 the hall. 
 
 " Only the girls. Walk in." 
 
 "The gentleman who came in before me, is 
 he there ?" 
 
 " Do you want to see him ?" she asked, suspi- 
 ciously. 
 
 " Oh, no. Only I would avoid bemg seen by 
 any one." 
 
 "He will not see you. Come right in." 
 And she threw open the door, and flaunted in. 
 
 Arthur followed her without hesitation. 
 
 Bursts of forced and cheerless laughter, and 
 the shrill sound of rude and flippant talk, smote 
 unpleasantly upon his ear. The room was 
 
134 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 riclily funiislied, but without taste or modesty. 
 The tall mirrors were displayed with ostentation, 
 and the paintings, offensive in design, hung con- 
 S]3icuous in showy frames. The numerous gas 
 jets, flashing among glittering crystal pendants, 
 made vice more glaring and heartlessness more 
 terribly apparent. Women, with bold and hag- 
 gard eyes, with brazen brows, and cheeks from 
 which the roses of virgin shame had been 
 plucked to bloom no more forever — mostly 
 young girls, scourging their youth into old age, 
 and gathering poison at once for soul and body 
 — with sensual indolence reclined upon the rich 
 ottomans, or with fantastic grace whirled 
 throuo;h lewd waltzes over the velvet car- 
 pets. There was laughter without joy — there 
 was frivolity without merriment — there was 
 the surface of enjoyment and the substance of 
 woe, for beneath those painted cheeks was the 
 pallor of despair and broken health, and beneath 
 those whitened bosoms, half veiled with gaudy 
 silks, were hearts that were aching with remorse, 
 or, yet more unhappy, benumbed and callous 
 with habitual sin. 
 
 Yet there, like a crushed pearl upon a heap of 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. I35 
 
 garbage, lingers the trace of beauty ; and there, 
 surely, though sepulchred in the caverns of vice, 
 dwells something that was once innocence, and 
 not unredeemable. But whence is the friendly 
 word to come, whence the guardian hand that 
 might lift them from the slough. They live 
 accursed by even charity, shunned by philan- 
 thropy, and shut from the Christian world like a 
 ti'ibe of lepers whose touch is contagion and 
 whose breath is pestilence. In the glittering 
 halls of fashion, the high-born beauty, with 
 wreaths about her white temples and diamonds 
 upon her chaste bosom, gives her gloved hand 
 for the dance, and forgets that an erring sister, 
 by the touch of those white fingers, might be 
 raised from the grave of her chastity, and clothed 
 anew with the white garments of repentance. 
 But no ; the cold world of fashion, that from its 
 cushioned pew has listened with stately devotion 
 to the words of the Eedeemer, has taught her 
 that to redeem the fallen is beneath her caste. 
 Hie bond of sisterhood is broken. Tlie lost one 
 must pursue her hideous destiny, each avenue of 
 escape blocked by the scorn and loathing which 
 denies her the contact of virtue and the counsel 
 
136 I'ORT LAi'AYETTE; OR, 
 
 of pui'ity. In tlie broad fields of charity, 
 invaded bj cold philosophers, losing themselves 
 in searching unreal and vague philanthropies, 
 none so practical in beneficence as to take her 
 by the hand, saying, " Go, and sin no more." 
 
 But whenever the path of benevolence is intri- 
 cate and doubtful, whenever the work is linked 
 with a riddle whose solving will breed discord 
 and trouble among men, whenever there is a 
 chance to make j)hilanthropy a plea for hate, 
 and bitterness and charity can be made a battle- 
 cry to arouse the spirit of destruction, and spread 
 ruin and desolation over the fair face of the 
 earth, then will the domes of our churches 
 resound with eloquence, then will the journals 
 of the land teem with their mystic theories, then 
 will the moui-ners of human woe be loud in 
 lamentation, and lift up their mighty voices to 
 cry down an abstract evil. When actual misery 
 appeals to them, they are deaf; when the plain 
 and palpable error stalks before them, they turn 
 aside. They are too busy with the tangles of 
 some philanthropic Gordian knot, to stretch out 
 a helping hand to the sufi'erer at their sides. 
 They are frenzied with their zeal to build a 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. I37 
 
 bridge over a sj^anless ocean, while the drowning 
 wretch is sinking within their grasp. They 
 scorn the simple charity of the good Samaritan ; 
 theirs must be a gigantic and splendid achieve- 
 ment in experimental beneficence, worthy of 
 their philosophic brains. The wrong they 
 would redress must be one that half the world 
 esteems a right ; else there would be no room 
 for their arguments, no occasion for their invec- 
 tive, no excuse for their passion. To do good is 
 too simple for their transcendentalism ; they 
 must first make evil out of their logic, and then, 
 through blood and wasting flames, drive on the 
 people to destruction, that the imaginary evil 
 may be destroyed. While Charity soars so high 
 among the clouds, she will never stoop to lift the 
 Magdalen from sin. 
 
138 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTEE Xm. 
 
 Aethtje heaved an iuvoluntaiy sigh, as he 
 gazed upon those sad wrecks of -womanhood, 
 striving to harden their sense of degradation bj 
 its impudent display. But an expression of 
 bewildered and sorrowful surprise suddenly over- 
 spread his countenance. Seated alone upon a 
 cushioned stool, at the chimney-corner, was a 
 young woman, her elbows resting uj)on her 
 knees, and her face bent thoughtfully upon her 
 palms. She was apparently lost in thought to 
 all around her. She was thinking — of what? 
 Perhaps of the green fields where she played in 
 childhood; perhaps of her days of innocence; 
 perhaps of the mother at whose feet she had 
 once knelt in prayer. But she was far away, in 
 thought, from that scene of infamy of which she 
 was a part ; for, in the glare of the gaslight, a 
 tear struggled through her eyelashes, and glit- 
 tered like a ray from heaven piercing the glooms 
 of hell. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 139 
 
 Artliiir walked to her, and jDlaced liis hand 
 Boftly npon her yellow liair. 
 
 ''Oh, Mary!" he murmured, in a tone of 
 gentle sorrow, that sounded strangely amid the 
 discordant merriment that filled tlie room. 
 
 She looked u]), at his touch, but when his 
 voice fell upon her ear, she arose suddenly and 
 stood before him like one struck dumb betwixt 
 humiliation and wonder. The angel had not yet 
 fled that bosom, for the blush of shame glowed 
 through the chalk upon her brow and outcrim- 
 soned the paint upon her cheek. As it passed 
 away, she would have wreathed her lip mechani- 
 cally with the pert smile of her vocation, but 
 the smile was frozen ere it reached her lips, and 
 the coarse words she would have spoken died 
 into a murmur and a sob. She sank down again 
 upon the cushion, and bent her face low down 
 upon her hands. 
 
 " Oh, Mary ! is it you ! is it you ! I pray 
 heaven your mother be in her grave !" 
 
 She rose and escaped quickly from the room ; 
 but he followed her and checked her at the 
 stairway. 
 
 "Let me speak with you, Mary, l^o, not 
 here ; lead me to your room." * 
 
140 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 He followed lier iip-stairs, and closing the 
 door, sat beside lier as she leaned upon the bed 
 and buried her face in the pillow. 
 
 It was the child of his old nurse. Upon the 
 hill-sides of his native State they had played 
 together when children, and now she lay there 
 before him, with scarce enough of woman's 
 nature left to weep for her own misery. 
 
 " Mary, how is this ? Look up, child," he 
 said, taking her hand kindly. " I had rather 
 see you thus, bent low with sorrow, than bold 
 and hard in guilt. But yet look up and speak 
 to me. I will be your friend, you know. Tell 
 me, why are you thus?" 
 
 " Oh, ^Ii*. Wayne, do not scold me, please 
 don't. I was thinking of home and mother 
 when you came and put your hand on my head. 
 Mother's dead." 
 
 "• "Well for her, poor woman. But how came 
 you thus V 
 
 " I scarcely seem to know. It seems to me a 
 dream. I married John, and he brought me to 
 iN'ew York. Then the war came, and he went 
 and was killed. And mother was dead, and I 
 had no friends in the great city. I could get no 
 work, and I was starving, indeed I was, Mr. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 141 
 
 Wayne. So a young man, wlio was very hand- 
 some, and rich, I think, for he gave me money 
 
 and fine dresses, he promised me Oh, Mr. 
 
 Wayne, I was very wrong and foolish, and I 
 wish I could die, and be buried by my poor 
 mother." 
 
 " And did he bring you here ?" 
 " Oh no, sir. I came here two weeks ago, 
 after he had left me. And when he came in one 
 night and found me here, he was very angry, 
 and said he would kill me if I told any one that 
 I knew him. And I know why ; but you won't 
 tell, Mr. AYayne, for it would make him angry. 
 I have found out that he is married to the mis- 
 tress of this house. He's a bad man, I know 
 now, and often comes here drunk, and swears at 
 the woman and the girls. Hark! that's her 
 room, next to mine, and I think he's in there 
 now." 
 
 The faint sound of voices, smothered by the 
 walls, reached them from the adjoining cham- 
 ber ; but as they listened, the door of that 
 room opened, and the loud and angry tones of 
 a man, speaking at the threshold, could be dis- 
 tinctly heard. Arthur quietly and carefully 
 
142 ^ORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 opened tlie door of Mary's room, an incli or 
 less, and listened at the aperture. He was not 
 mistaken ; lie recognized the voice of PJiilip 
 Searle. 
 
 " I'll do it, anyhow," said Philip, angrily, and 
 with the thick utterance of one who had been 
 drinking. "I'll do it; and if you trouble me, 
 I'll fix you." 
 
 " Philip, if you marry that girl I'U peach ; I 
 will, so help me G — d," replied a woman's 
 voice. "I've given you the money, and I've 
 given you plenty before, as much as I had to 
 give you, Philip, and you know it. I don't 
 mind that, but you shan't marry till I'm dead. 
 I'm your lawful wife, and if I'm low now, it's 
 your fault, for you drove me to it." 
 
 " I'll drive you to hell if you worry me. I 
 tell you she's got lots of money, and a farm, 
 and niggers, and you shall have half if you 
 only keep your mouth shut. Come, now, Molly, 
 don't be a fool ; what's the use, now ?" 
 
 They went down the stairway together, and 
 their voices were lost as they descended. Arthur 
 determined to follow and get some clue, if pos- 
 sible, as to the man's intentions. He therefore 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 14,3 
 
 gave his address to Maiy, and made lier promise 
 faitlifiillj to meet him on the following morn- 
 ing, promising to befriend her and send her to 
 his mother in Yermont. Hearing the front door 
 close, and surmising that Philip had departed, 
 he bade her good night, and descending hastily, 
 was upon the sidewalk in time to observe 
 Philip's form in the starlight as he turned the 
 corner. 
 
 It was now ten o'clock ; too late to call upon 
 Miranda without disturbing the household, 
 which he desired to avoid. Arthur's present 
 fear was that possibly an elopement had been 
 planned for that night, and he therefore deter- 
 mined, if practicable, to keep Searle in view till 
 he had traced him home. The latter entered a 
 refreshment saloon upon Broadway ; Arthur fol- 
 lowed, and ordering, in a low tone, some dish 
 that would require time in the preparation, he 
 stepped, without noise, into an alcove adjoining 
 one whence came the sound of conversation. 
 
 " Well, what's up ?" inquired a gruff, coarse 
 voice. 
 
 " Fill me some brandy," replied Philip. *^ I 
 tell you, Eradshaw, it's risky, but I'll do it. 
 
144 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 The old woman's rock. She'll blow upon me if 
 she gets the chance ; but I'm in for it, and I'll 
 put it through. We must manage to keep it 
 mum from her, and as soon as I get the girl I'll 
 accept the lieutenancy, and be off to the wars 
 till all blows over. If Moll should smoke me 
 out there, I'll cross the line and take sanctuary 
 with Jeff. Davis. 
 
 " What about the girl ?" 
 
 " Oh, she's all right," replied Philip, with a 
 drunken chuckle. " I had an interview with 
 the dear creature this morning, and she's like 
 wax in my hands. It's all arranged for to-mor- 
 row morning. You be sure to have the carriage 
 ready at the Park — the same spot, you know — 
 by ten o'clock. She can't well get away 
 before, but that will be time enough for the 
 train." 
 
 " I want that money now." 
 
 " Moll's hard up, but I got a couple of hundred 
 from her. Here's fifty for you ; now don't 
 grumble, I'm doing the best I can, d — n you, 
 and you know it. l^ow listen — I want to fix 
 things with you about that blue-eyed chap." 
 
 The waiter here brought in Arthur's order, 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 145 
 
 and a sudden silence ensued in the alcove. The 
 two men had evidently been unaware of the 
 proximity of a third party, and their tone, 
 though low, had not been sufficiently guarded 
 to escape Arthur hearing, whose ear, leaning 
 against the thin partition, was within a few 
 inches of Philip's head. A muttered curse and 
 the gurgling of liquor from a decanter was all 
 that could be heard for the space of a few 
 moments, when the two, after a brief whisper, 
 arose and left the place, not, however, without 
 making ineffectual efforts to catch a glimpse of 
 the occupant of the tenanted alcove. Arthur 
 soon after followed them into the street. He was 
 aware that he was watched from the opposite 
 comer, and that his steps were dogged in the 
 darkness. But he drew his felt hat well over his 
 face, and by mingling with the crowd that 
 chanced to be pouring from one of the theatres, 
 he avoided recognition and passed unnoticed into 
 his hotel. 
 
14:6 FORT LAFAYETTE; OB, 
 
 CHAPTEK XIV. 
 
 Aethtjk felt ill and much fatigued when he 
 retired to rest, and was restless and disturbed 
 with fever throughout the night. He had over- 
 tasked his delicate frame, yet scarce recovered 
 from the effects of recent suffering, and he arose 
 in the morning with a feeling of prostration that 
 he could with difficulty overcome. However, 
 he refreshed himself with a cup of tea, and 
 prepared to call upon Miss Ayleff*. It was but 
 seven o'clock, a somewhat early hour for a morn- 
 ing visit, but the occasion was one for little 
 ceremony. As he was on the point of leaving 
 his room, there was a peremptory knock at the 
 door, and, upon his invitation to walk in, a 
 stranger entered. It was a gentlemanly per- 
 sonage, with a searching eye and a calm and 
 quiet manner. Arthur was vexed to be delayed, 
 but received the intruder with a civil inclination 
 of the head, somewhat surprised, however, that 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 147 
 
 no card had been sent to give bim intimation of 
 the visit. 
 
 " Are you Mr. Arthur Wayne ?" inquired the 
 stranger. 
 
 "I am be," replied Arthur. "Be seated, 
 sir." 
 
 " I thank yon. My name is . I am a 
 
 deputy United States marshal of this district." 
 
 " Arthur bowed, and awaited a further state- 
 ment of the purpose of bis visit. 
 
 "You have lately arrived from Virginia, I 
 understand ?" 
 
 " A few days since, sir — from a brief sojourn 
 in the vicinity of Eicbmond." 
 
 "And yesterday received a communication 
 from that quarter ?" 
 
 " I did. A letter from an intimate acquaint- 
 ance." 
 
 " My office will excuse me from an imputation 
 of inquisitiveness. May I see that letter ?" 
 
 " Excuse me, sir. Its contents are of a private 
 and delicate nature, and intended only for my 
 own perusal." 
 
 " It is because its contents are of that nature 
 that I am constrained to ask you for it. Pardon 
 
14:8 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 me, Mr. Wayne ; but to be brief and frank with, 
 you, I must either receive that communication by 
 your good will, or call in my officers, and insti- 
 tute a search. I am sure you will not make my 
 duty more unpleasant than necessary." 
 
 Arthur paused awhile. He was conscious 
 that it would be impossible for him to avoid 
 complying with the marshal's request, and yet 
 it was most annoying to be obliged to make a 
 third party cognizant of the facts contained in 
 Beverly's epistle. 
 
 " I have no desire to oppose you in the per- 
 formance of your functions," he finally replied, 
 " but really there are very particular reasons 
 why the contents of this letter should not be 
 made public." 
 
 A very faint indication of a smile passed over 
 the marshal's serious face ; Arthur did not 
 observe it, but continued : 
 
 " I will hand you the letter, for I perceive 
 there has been some mistake and misapprehen- 
 sion which of course it is your duty to clear up. 
 But you must promise me that, when your 
 perusal of it shall have satisfied you that its 
 nature is strictly private, and not ofi'ensive to 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 14.9 
 
 the law, you will return it me and preserve an 
 inviolable secrecy as to its contents." 
 
 " "When I shall be satisfied on that score, I 
 will do as you desire." 
 
 Arthur handed him the letter, somewhat to 
 the other's surprise, for he had certainly been 
 watching for an attempt at its destruction, or at 
 least was prepared for prevarication and strata- 
 gem. He took the paper from its envelope 
 and read it carefully. It was in the following 
 words : 
 
 Richmond, May — , 1861. 
 Dear Arthur : This will be handed to you by a sure 
 hand. Communicate freely with the bearer — ^he can be 
 trusted. The arms can be safely shipped as he represents, 
 and you will therefore send them on at once. Your last 
 communication was of great service to the cause, and, 
 although I would be glad to have you with us, the Pre- 
 sident thinks you are too valuable, for the present, 
 where you are. When you come, the commission will 
 be ready for you. Yours truly, 
 
 Beverly Weems, Capt. C. S. A. 
 
 " Are you satisfied ?" inquired Arthur, after 
 the marshal had silently concluded his exami- 
 nation of the document. 
 
150 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 ^' Perfectly satisfied," replied the other, plac- 
 ing the letter in his pocket. " Mr. "Wayne, it is 
 my duty to arrest you." 
 
 " Arrest me !" 
 
 " In the name of the United States." 
 
 "For what offence?" 
 
 " Treason." 
 
 Arthur remained for a while silent with aston- 
 ishment. At last, as the marshal arose and took 
 his hat, he said : 
 
 " I cannot conceive what act or word of mine 
 can be construed as treasonable. There is some 
 mistake, surely ; I am a quiet man, a stranger 
 in the city, and have conversed with but one or 
 two persons since my arrival. Explain to me, 
 if you please, the particular nature of the charge 
 against me. 
 
 " It is not my province, at this moment, to 
 do so, Mr. "Wayne. It is sufficient that, upon 
 information lodged with me last evening, and 
 forwarded to Washington by telegraph, I re- 
 ceived from the Secretary of War orders for 
 your immediate arrest, should I find the infor- 
 mation true. I have found it true, and I arrest 
 you." 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 151 
 
 " Surely, nothing in that letter can be so mis- 
 construed as to implicate me." 
 
 *' Mr. Wayne, this prevarication is as useless 
 as it is unseemly. You know that the letter 
 is sufficient warrant for my proceeding. My 
 carriage is at the door. I trust you will accom- 
 pany me without further delay." 
 
 " Sir, I was about to proceed, when you en- 
 tered, upon an errand that involves the safety 
 and happiness of the young lady mentioned in 
 that letter. The letter itself will inform you 
 of the circumstance, and I assure you, events 
 are in progress that require my immediate 
 action. You will at least allow me to visit the 
 party?" 
 
 The marshal looked at him with surprise. 
 
 " What party ?" 
 
 " The lady of whom my friend makes men- 
 tion." 
 
 " I do not understand you. I can only con- 
 ceive that, for some purpose of your own, you 
 are anxious to gain time. I must request you 
 to accompany me at once to the carriage." 
 
 " You will permit me at least to send a letter 
 — a word — a warning ?" 
 
152 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 " That your accomplice may receive informa- 
 tion ? Assuredly not." 
 
 " Be yourself the messenger — or send " 
 
 "This subterfuge is idle." He opened the 
 door and stood beside it. " I must request your 
 company to the carriage." 
 
 Arthur's cheek flushed for a moment with 
 anger. 
 
 " This severity," he said, " is ridiculous and 
 unjust. I tell you, you and those for whom 
 you act will be accountable for a great crime — 
 for innocence betrayed — for a young life made 
 desolate — ^for perhaps a dishonored grave. I 
 plead not for myself, but for one helpless and 
 pure, who at this hour may be the victim of 
 a villain's plot. In the name of humanity, I 
 entreat you give me but time to avert the 
 calamity, and I will follow you without remon- 
 strance. Go with me yourself. Be present at 
 the interview. Of what consequence to you 
 will be an hour's delay ?" 
 
 " It may be of much consequence to those 
 who are in league with you. I cannot grant 
 your request. You must come with me, sir, 
 or I shall be obliged to call for assistance," 
 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 
 
 153 
 
 and lie drew a pair of handcuffs from his 
 pocket. 
 
 Arthur perceived that further argument or 
 
 entreaty would be of no avail. He was much 
 
 agitated and distressed beyond measure at the 
 
 possible misfortune to Miranda, which, by this 
 
 untimely arrest, he was powerless to avert. 
 
 Knowing nothing of the true contents of the 
 
 letter which Philip had substituted for the one 
 
 received from Beverly, he could not imagine an 
 
 excuse for the marshal's inflexibility. He was 
 
 quite ill, too, and what with fever and agitation, 
 
 his brain was in a whirl. He leaned against the 
 
 chair, faint and dispirited. The painful cough, 
 
 the harbinger of that fatal malady which had 
 
 already brought a sister to an early grave, 
 
 oppressed him, and the hectic glowed upon his 
 
 pale cheeks. The marshal approached him, and 
 
 laid his hand gently on his shoulder. 
 
 " You seem ill," he said ; " I am sorry to be 
 harsh with you, but I must do my duty. They 
 will make you as comfortable as possible at the 
 fort. But you must come." 
 
 Arthur followed him mechanically, and like 
 one in a dream. They stepped into the carriage 
 7* 
 
154 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 and were driven rapidly away ; but Arthur, as 
 lie leaned back exhausted in his seat, murmured 
 sorrowfully : 
 
 "And poor little Mary, too! "Who will 
 befriend her now ?" 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 165 
 
 CHAPTEK XV, 
 
 In the upper apartment of a cottage standing 
 alone by the roadside on the outskirts of Boston, 
 Miranda, pale and dejected, sat gazing vacantly 
 at the light of the solitary lamp that lit the 
 room. The clock was striking midnight, and 
 the driving rain beat dismally against the 
 window-blinds. But one month had passed 
 since her elopement with Philip Searlo, yet her 
 wan cheeks and altered aspect revealed how 
 much of suffering can be crowded into that little 
 space of time. She started from her revery 
 when the striking of the timepiece told the late- 
 ness of the hour. Heavy footsteps sounded upon 
 the stairway, and, while she listened, Philip, 
 followed by Bradshaw, entered the room ab- 
 ruptly. 
 
 " How is this ?" asked Philip, angrily. " Why 
 are you not in bed ?" 
 
 " I did not know it was so late, Philip," she 
 answered, in a deprecating tone. " I was half 
 
156 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 asleep upon tlie rocking-chair, listening to the 
 storm. It's a bad night, Philip. How wet you 
 are !" 
 
 He brushed off the hand she had laid upon his 
 shoulder, and muttered, with bad humor : 
 
 " I've told you a dozen times I don't want you 
 to sit up for me. Fetch the brandy and glasses, 
 and go to bed." 
 
 "Oh, Philip, it is so late! Don't drink 
 to-night, Philip. You are wet, and you look 
 tired. Come to bed." 
 
 " Do as I tell you," he answered, roughly, 
 flinging himself into a chair, and beckoning 
 Bradshaw to a seat. Miranda sighed, and 
 brought the bottle and glasses from the closet. 
 
 " Now, you go to sleep, do you hear ; and 
 don't be whining and crying all night, like a 
 sick girl." 
 
 The poor girl moved slowly to the door, and 
 turned at the threshold. 
 
 « Good night, Philip." 
 
 " Oh, good night — there, get along," lie cried, 
 impatiently, without looking at her, and gulping 
 down a tumblerful of spirits. Miranda closed 
 the door, and left the two men alone together. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 157 
 
 They remained silent for a while, Bradshaw 
 quietly sipping his liquor, and Philip evidently 
 disturbed and angry. 
 
 " You're sure 'twas she ?" he asked at last. 
 
 '' Oh, bother !" replied Bradshaw. '' I'm not 
 a mole nor a blind man. Don't I know Moll 
 when I see her ?" 
 
 "Curse her! she'll stick to me like a leech. 
 "What could have brought her here? Do you 
 think she's tracked me ?" 
 
 " She'd track you through fire, if she once 
 got on the scent. Moll ain't the gal to be fooled, 
 and you know it." 
 
 "What's to be done?" 
 
 " Move out of this. Take the girl to Yir- 
 ginia. You'll be safe enough there." 
 
 " You're right, Bradshaw. It's the best way. 
 I ought to have done it at first. But, hang the 
 girl, she'll weary me to death with her ser- 
 mons and crying fits. Moll's worth two of her 
 for that matter — she scolds, but at least she 
 never would look like a stuck fawn when I 
 came home a little queer. For the matter 
 of that, she don't mind a spree herself at 
 times." And, emptying his glass, the libertine 
 
158 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 laughed at the remembrance of some past 
 orgies. 
 
 While he was thus, in his half-drunken mood, 
 consoling himself for present perplexities by 
 dwelling upon the bacchanalian joys of other 
 days, a carriage drove up the street, and stopped 
 before the door. Soon afterward, the hall 
 bell was rung, and Philip, alarmed and aston- 
 ished, started from his seat. 
 
 " Who's that ?" he asked, almost in a whisper. 
 
 " Don't know," replied his companion. 
 
 " She couldn't have traced me here already — 
 unless you have betrayed me, Bradshaw," he 
 added suddenly, darting a suspicious glance 
 upon his comrade. 
 
 "You're just drunk enough to be a fool," 
 replied Bradshaw, rising from his seat, as a 
 second summons, more violent than the first, 
 echoed through the corridors. " I'll go down 
 and see what's the matter. Some one's mis- 
 taken the house, I suppose. That's all." 
 
 " Let no one in, Bradshaw," cried Philip, as 
 that worthy left the room. He descended the 
 stairs, opened the door, and presently afterward 
 the carriage drove rapidly away. Philip, who had 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 159 
 
 been listening earnestly, could hear the sound of 
 the wheels as they whirled over the pavement. 
 
 " All right," he said, as he applied himself 
 once more to the bottle before him. " Some 
 fool has mistaken his whereabouts. Curse me, 
 but I'm getting as nervous as an old woman." 
 
 He was in the act of lifting the glass to his 
 lips, when the door was flung wide open. The 
 glass fell from his hands, and shivered upon the 
 floor. Moll stood before him. 
 
 She stood at the threshold with a wicked 
 gleam in her eye, and a smile of triumph upon 
 her lips ; then advanced into the room, closed 
 the door quietly, locked it, seated herself 
 composedly in the nearest chair, and filled 
 herself a glass of spirits. Philip glared upon 
 her with an expression of mingled anger, fear 
 and wonderment. 
 
 " Are you a devil ? Where in thunder did 
 you spring from ?" he asked at last. 
 
 " You'll make me a devil, with your tricks, 
 Philip Searle," she said, sipping the liquor, and 
 looking at him wickedly over the rim of the 
 tumbler. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha !" she laughed aloud, as he 
 
1^0 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 muttered a curse between his clenclied teetli, 
 " I'm not the country girl, Philip dear, that I 
 was when you whispered your sweet nonsense 
 in my ear. I know your game, my bully boy, 
 and I'll play you card for card." 
 
 " Bradshaw !" shouted Philip, going to the 
 door and striving to open it. 
 
 " It's no use," she said. " I've got the key in 
 my pocket. Sit down. I want to talk to you. 
 Don't be a fool." 
 
 " Where's Bradshaw, Moll ?" 
 
 " At the depot by this time, I fancy, for the 
 carriage went off at a deuce of a rate." 
 
 She laughed again, while he paced the room 
 with angry strides. 
 
 " 'Twas he, then, that betrayed me. The vil- 
 lain ! I'll have his life for that, as I'm a sin- 
 ner." 
 
 " You're a great sinner, Philip Searle. Sit 
 down, now, and be quiet. Where's the girl ?" 
 
 "What girl?" 
 
 " Miranda Ayleff. The girl you've ruined ; 
 the girl you've put in my-place, and that I've 
 come to drive out of it. Where is she ?" 
 
 " Don't speak so loud, Moll. Be quiet, can't 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 161 
 
 you ? See here, Moll," he continued, drawing a 
 chair to her side, and speaking in his old win- 
 ning way — " see here, Moll : why can't you just 
 let this matter stand as it is, and take your share 
 of the plunder ? You know I don't care about 
 the girl ; so what difference does it make to you, 
 if we allow her to think that she's my lawful 
 wife ? Come, give us a kiss, Moll, and let's hear 
 no more about it." 
 
 " Honey won't catch such an old fly as I am, 
 Philip," replied the woman, but with a gentler 
 tone. " "Where is the girl ?" she asked suddenly, 
 starting from the chair. " I want to see her. Is 
 she in there ?" 
 
 " Ko," said Philip, quickly, and rising to bar 
 her passage to the door of Miranda's chamber. 
 " She is not there, Moll ; you can't see her. Are 
 you crazy ? You'd frighten the poor girl out of 
 her senses." 
 
 " She's in tnere. I'm going in to speak with her. 
 Yes I shall, Philip, and you needn't stop me." 
 
 " Keep back. Keep quiet, can't you ?" 
 
 " No. Don't hold me, Philip Searle. Keep 
 your hands off me, if you know what's good for 
 you." 
 
162 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 She brushed past him, and laid her hand upon 
 the door-knob; but he seized her violently by 
 the arm and pulled her back. The action hurt 
 her wrist, and she was boiling with rage in a 
 second. With her clenched fist, she struck him 
 straight in the face repeatedly, while with every 
 blow, she screamed out an imprecation. 
 
 " Keep quiet, you hag ! Keep quiet, con- 
 found you!" said the infuriated man. "Won't 
 you? Take that!" and he planted his fist upon 
 her mouth. 
 
 The woman, through her tears and sobs, 
 howled at him curse upon curse. With one 
 hand upon her throat, he essayed to choke her 
 utterance, and thus they scuffled about the 
 room. 
 
 " I'll cut you, Philip ; I will, by " 
 
 Her hand, in fact, was fumbling about her 
 pocket, and she drew forth a small knife and 
 thrust it into his shoulder. They were near the 
 table, over which Philip had thrust her down. 
 He was wild with rage and the brandy he had 
 drank. His right hand instinctively grasped the 
 heavy bottle that by chance it came in contact 
 with. The next instant, it descended full upon 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 163 
 
 her forehead, and with a moan of fear and pain, 
 she fell like lead upon the floor, and lay bleeding 
 and motionless. 
 
 Philip, still grasping the shattered bottle, 
 gazed aghast npon the lifeless form. Then a cry 
 of terror burst upon his ear. He turned, and 
 beheld Miranda, with dishevelled hair, pale as 
 her night-clothes, standing at the threshold of 
 the open door. "With a convulsive shudder, she 
 staggered into the room, and fainted at his feet, 
 her white arm stained with the blood that was 
 sinking in little pools into the carpet. 
 
 He stood there gazing from one to the other, 
 but without seeking to succor either. The fumes 
 of brandy, and the sudden revulsion from active 
 wrath to apathy, seemed to stupefy his brain. 
 At last he stooped beside the outstretched form 
 of Molly, and, with averted face, felt in her 
 pocket and drew out the key. Stealthily, as if 
 he feared that they could hear him, he moved 
 toward the door, opened it, and passing through, 
 closed it gently, as one does who would not 
 waken a sleeping child or invalid. Rapidly, but 
 with soft steps, he descended the stairs, and went 
 out into the darkness and the storm. 
 
164 FORT LAFAYETTE; OB, 
 
 CHAPTEE XYI. 
 
 When Miranda awakened from her swoon, 
 the lamp was burning dimly, and the first light 
 of dawn came faintly through the blinds. All 
 was still around her, and for some moments she 
 could not recall the terrible scene which had 
 passed before her eyes. Presently her fingers 
 came in contact with the clots of gore that were 
 thickening on her garment, and she arose 
 quickly, and, with a shudder, tottered against 
 the wall. Her eyes fell upon Moll's white face, 
 the brow mangled and bruised, and the dis- 
 hevelled hair soaking in the crimson tide that 
 kept faintly oozing from the cut. She was 
 alone in the house with that terrible object ; for 
 Philip, careless of her convenience, had only 
 procured the services of a girl from a neighbor- 
 ing farm-house, who attended to the household 
 duties during the day, and went home in the 
 evening. But her womanly compassion was 
 stronger than her sense of horror, and kneeling 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 165 
 
 by the side of the prostrate woman, witli inex- 
 pressible relief she perceived, by the slight pul- 
 sation of the heart, that life was there. Enter- 
 ing her chamber, she hastily put on a morning 
 wrapper, and returing with towel and water, 
 raised Moll's head upon her lap, and washed the 
 thick blood from her face. The cooling mois- 
 ture revived the wounded woman ; her bosom 
 swelled with a deep sigh, and she opened her 
 eyes and looked languidly around. 
 
 " How do you feel now, madam ?" asked 
 Miranda, gently. 
 
 " Who are you ?" said Moll, in reply, after a 
 moment's pause. 
 
 '' Miranda — Miranda Searle, the wife of 
 Philip," she added, trembling at the remem- 
 brance of the woman's treatment at her hus- 
 band's hands. 
 
 Molly raised herself with an effort, and sat 
 upon the floor, looking at Miranda, while she 
 laughed with a loud and hollow sound. 
 
 " Philip's wife, eh ? And you love him, don't 
 you ? Well, dreams can't last forever.*' 
 
 " Don't you feel strong enough to get up and 
 lie upon the bed?" asked Miranda, soothingly, 
 
166 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 for she was uncomfortable under the strange 
 glare that the woman fixed upon her. 
 
 "I'm well enough/' said Moll. "Where's 
 Philip?" 
 
 " Indeed, I do not know. I am very sorry, 
 ma'am, that — that " 
 
 " Never mind. Give me a glass of water." 
 
 Miranda hastened to comply, and Moll swal- 
 lowed the water, and remained silent for a 
 ment. 
 
 " Shan't I go for assistance ?" asked Miranda, 
 who was anxious to put an end to this painful 
 interview, and was also distressed about her hus- 
 band's absence. "There's no one except our- 
 selves in the house, but I can go to the farmer's 
 house near by." 
 
 " E"ot for the world," interrupted Moll, taking 
 her by the arm. " I'm well enough. Here, let 
 me lean on you. That's it. I'll sit on the 
 rocking-chair. Thank you. Just bind my 
 head up, will you? Is it an ugly cut?" she 
 asked, as Miranda, having procured some linen, 
 carefully bandaged the wounded part. 
 
 " Oh, yes ! It's very bad. Does it pain you 
 much, ma'am ?" 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 1^7 
 
 " Never mind. There, that will do. Now sit 
 down there. Don't be afraid of me. I ain't 
 a-going to hurt you. It's only the cut that 
 makes me look so ugly." 
 
 " Oh, no ! I am not at all afraid, ma'am," 
 said Miranda, shuddering in spite of herself. 
 
 "You are a sweet-looking girl," said Moll, 
 fixing her haggard, but yet beautiful eyes upon 
 the fragile form beside her. " It's a pity you 
 must be unhappy. Has that feUow been unkind 
 to you ?" 
 
 "What fellow?" madam. 
 
 " Philip." 
 
 " He is my husband, madam," replied Mi- 
 randa, mildly, but with the slightest accent of 
 displeasure. 
 
 "He is, eh? Hum! You love him dearly, 
 don't you?" 
 
 Miranda blushed, and asked : 
 
 " Do you know my husband ?" 
 
 " Know him ! If you knew him as well, it 
 would be better for you. You'll know him well 
 enough before long. You come from Yirginia, 
 don't you ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
168 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 " You must go back there." 
 
 "K Philip wishes it." 
 
 " I tell you, you must go at once — to-day. I 
 will give you money, if you have none. And 
 you must never speak of what has happened in 
 this house. Do you understand me ?" 
 
 "But Philip" 
 
 " Forget Philip. You must never see him any 
 more. Why should you want to ? Don't you 
 know that he's a brute, and will beat you as he 
 beat me, if you stay with him. Why should 
 you care about him ?" 
 
 " He is my husband, and you should not speak 
 about him so to me," said Miranda, struggling 
 with her tears, and scarce knowing in what vein 
 to converse with the rude woman, whose strange 
 language bewildered and frightened her. 
 
 "Bah!" said Moll, roughly. "You're a sim- 
 pleton. There, don't cry, though heaven knows 
 you've cause enough, poor thing ! Philij) Searle's 
 a villain. I could send him to the State prison if 
 I chose." 
 
 " Oh, no ! don't say that ; indeed, don't." 
 
 " I tell you I could ; but I will not, if you 
 mind me, and do what I tell you. I'm a bad 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 1(30 
 
 creature, but I won't harm you, if I can help 
 it. You helped me when I was lying there, after 
 that A'illain hurt me, and I can't help liking you. 
 And yet you've hurt me, too." 
 
 "I!" 
 
 " Yes. Shall I tell you a story 'i Poor girl ! 
 you're wretched enough now, but you'd better 
 know the truth at once. Listen to me : I was an 
 innocent girl, like you, once. 'Not so beautiful, 
 perhaps, and not so good ; for I was always 
 proud and willful, and loved to have my own 
 way. I was a country girl, and had money left 
 to me by my dead parents. A young man made 
 my acquaintance. He was gay and handsome, 
 and made me believe that he loved me. Well, I 
 married him — do you hear ? I married him — at 
 the church, with witnesses, and a minister to 
 make me his true and lawful wife. Curse him ! 
 I wish he had dropped down dead at the altar. 
 There, you needn't shudder ; it would have been 
 well for you if he had. I married him, and then 
 commenced my days of sorrow and — of guilt. 
 He squandered my money at the gambling-table, 
 and I was sometimes in rags and without food. 
 He was drunk half the time, and abused me; 
 8 
 
170 ^<^^T LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 but I was even with him there, and gave him as 
 good as he gave me. He taught nie to drink, 
 and such a time as we sometimes made together 
 would have made Satan blush. I thought I 
 was low enough; but he drove me lower yet. 
 He put temptation in my way — he did, curse his 
 black heart ! though he denied it. I fell as low 
 as woman can fall, and then I suppose you think 
 he left me ? "Well, he did, for a time ; he went 
 off somewhere, and perhaps it was then he was 
 trying to ruin some other girl, as foolish as I had 
 been. But he came back, and got money from 
 me — the wages of my sin. And all the while, 
 he was as handsome, and could talk as softly as 
 if he was a saint. And with that smooth tongue 
 and handsome face he won another bride, and 
 married her — married her, I tell you ; and that's 
 why I can send him to the State prison." 
 
 " Send him ! Who ? My God ! what do you 
 mean?" cried Miranda, rising slowly from her 
 chair, with clasped hands and ashen cheeks. 
 
 "Philip Searle, my husband !" shouted Moll, 
 rising also, and standing with gleaming eyes 
 before the trembling girl. 
 
 Miranda sank slowly back into her seat, tear- 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 171 
 
 less, but shuddering as with an ague fit. Only 
 from her lips, with a moaning sound, a murmur 
 came: 
 
 " ISTo, no, no ! oh, no !" 
 
 " May God strike me dead this instant, if it is 
 not true !" said Moll, sadly ; for she felt for the 
 poor girl's, distress. 
 
 Miranda rose, her hands pressed tightly against 
 her heart, and moved toward the door with tot- 
 tering and uncertain steps, like one who suffo- 
 cates and seeks fresh air. Then her white lips 
 were stained with purple ; a red stream gushed 
 from her mouth and dyed the vestment on her 
 bosom ; and ere Moll could reach her, she had 
 sunk, with an agonizing sob, upon the floor. 
 
172 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTEK XYH. 
 
 The night after the unhappy circnmstance we 
 have related, in the bar-room of a Broadway 
 hotel, in 'New York city, a colonel of volun- 
 teers, moustached and uniformed, and evi- 
 dently in a very unmilitary condition of un- 
 steadiness, was entertaining a group of convivial 
 acquaintances, with bacchanalian exercises and 
 martian gossip. 
 
 He had already, with a month's experience at 
 the seat of war, culled the glories of unfought 
 fields, and was therefore an object of admiration 
 to his civilian friends, and of envy to several 
 unfledged heroes, whose maiden swords had 
 as yet only jingled on the pavement of Broad- 
 way, or flashed in the gaslight of saloons. They 
 were yet none the less conscious of their own 
 importance, these embryo I^apoleons, but wore 
 their shoulder straps with a killing air, and had 
 often, on a sunny afternoon, stood the fire pf 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 173 
 
 bright eyes from innumerable promenading bat-* 
 teries, with gallantry, to say the least. 
 
 And now they stood, like Caesars, amid clouds 
 of smoke, and wielded their formidable goblets 
 with the ease of veterans, though not always 
 with a soldierly precision. And why should 
 they not ? Their tailors had made them heroes, 
 every one ; and they had never yet once led the 
 van in a retreat. 
 
 " And how's Tim ?" asked one of the black- 
 coated hangers-on ujDon prospective glory. 
 
 " Tim's in hot water," answered the colonel, 
 elevating his chin and elbow with a gesture 
 more suggestive of Bacchus than of Mars. 
 
 " Hot brandy and water would be more like 
 him," said the acknowledged wit of the party, 
 looking gravely at the sugar in his empty glass, 
 as if indiiFerent to the bursts of laughter which 
 rewarded his appropriate sally 
 
 " I'll tell you about it," said the colonel. 
 " Fill up, boys. Thompson, take a fresh 
 segar." 
 
 Thompson took it, and the boys filled up, 
 while the colonel flung down a specimen of 
 Uncle Sam's eagle w^ith an emphasis that de- 
 
174: FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 monstrated what he would do for the bird when 
 opportunity offered. 
 
 " You see, we had a party of Congressmen in 
 camp, and were cracking some champagne bot- 
 tles in the adjutant's tent. We considered it a 
 military necessity to floor the legislators, you 
 know ; but one old senator was tough as a siege- 
 gun, and wouldn't even wink at his third bottle. 
 So the corks flew about like minie balls, but 
 never a man but was too good a soldier to cry 
 'hold, enough.' As for that old demijohn of a 
 senator, it seemed he couldn't hold enough, and 
 wouldn't if he could ; so we directed the main 
 battle against him, and opened a masked bat- 
 tery upon him, by uncovering a bottle of Otard ; 
 but he never flinched. It was a game of Brag 
 all over, and every one kept ordering ' a little 
 more grape.' Presently, up slaps a mounted 
 aid, galloping like mad, and in tumbles the 
 sleepy orderly for the officer of the day. 
 
 " ' That's you, Tim,' says I. But Tim was 
 just then singing the Star Spangled Banner in 
 a convivial whisper to the tune of the Eed, 
 White, and Blue, and wouldn't be disturbed on 
 no account. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. I75 
 
 " ' Tumble out, Tim,' says I, ' or I'll have you 
 court-martialled and shot.' 
 
 " ' In the neck,' says Tim. But he did manage 
 to tumble out, and finished the last stanzas with 
 a flourisli, for the edification of the mounted aid- 
 de-camp. 
 
 " ' Where's the officer of the day ?' asked the 
 aid, looking suspiciously at Tim's shaky knees. 
 
 " ' He stands before you,' replied Tim, steady- 
 ing himself a little by afi'ectionately hanging on 
 to the horse's tail. 
 
 " ' You sir ? you're unfit for duty, and I'll 
 report you, sir, at headquarters,' said the aid, 
 who was a West Pointer, you know, stiff as a 
 poker in regimentals. 
 
 " ' Sir ! — hie,' replied Tim, with an attempt 
 at oflended dignity, the effect of which was 
 rather spoiled by the accompanying hiccough. 
 
 " ' Where's the colonel !' asked the aid. 
 
 " ' Drunk,' says that rascal, Tim, confidentially, 
 with a knowing w^ink. 
 
 " ' Where's the adjutant V 
 
 "'Drunk.' 
 
 " ' Good God, sir, are you all drunk V 
 
 " ' 'Cept the surgeon — lie's got the measles.' 
 
176 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 " ^ Orderly, give this dispatch to the first sober 
 officer you can find.' 
 
 " ' It's no use, captain,' says Tim, ' the regi- 
 ment's drunk — 'cept me, hie !' and Tim lost his 
 balance, and tumbled over the orderly, for you 
 see the captain put sj)urs to his horse rather sud- 
 denly, and whisked the friendly tail out of his 
 hands. 
 
 '' So we were all up before the general the 
 next day, but swore ourselves clear, all except 
 Tim, who had the circumstantial evidence rather 
 too strong against him." 
 
 " And such are the men in whom the country 
 has placed its trust?" muttered a grey-headed 
 old gentleman, who, while apparently absorbed 
 in his newspaper, had been listening to the 
 colonel's narrative. 
 
 A young man who had lounged into the 
 room approached the party and caught the 
 colonel's eye : 
 
 " Ah ! Searle, how are you ? Come up and 
 take a drink." 
 
 A further requisition was made upon the bar- 
 tender, and the company indulged anew. Searle, 
 although a little pale and nervous, was all life 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 177 
 
 and gaiety. His coming was a fresh brand on 
 tlie convivial flame, and the party, too much 
 exhilarated to be content with pushing one vice to 
 excess, sallied forth in search of whatever other 
 the great city might aiFord. They had not to 
 look far. Folly is at no fault in the metropolis 
 for food of whatever quality to feed upon ; 
 and they were soon accommodated with excite- 
 ment to their hearts content at a fashionable 
 gambling saloon on Broadway. The colonel 
 played with recklessness and daring that, if he 
 carries it to the battle-field, will wreathe his brow 
 with laurels ; but like many a rash soldier 
 before him, he did not win. On the contrary, 
 his eagles took flight with a rapidity suggestive 
 of the old adage that '^ gold hath wings," and 
 when, long after midnight, he stood upon the 
 deserted street alone with Philip Searle and his 
 reflections, he was a sadder and a soberer man. 
 
 " Searle, I'm a ruined man." 
 
 " You'll fight all the better for it," replied 
 Philip, knocking the ashes from his segar. 
 " Come, you'll never mend the matter by taking 
 cold here in the night air; where do you put 
 up ? ril see you home." 
 8* 
 
178 I'ORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 " D — n you, yon take it easy," said the colo- 
 nel, bitterly. Philip could afford to take it 
 easy, for he had most of the colonel's money 
 in his pocket. In fact, the unhappy votary of 
 Mars was more thoroughly ruined than his com- 
 panion was aware of, for when fortune was hit- 
 ting him hardest, he had not hesitated to bring 
 into action a reserve of government funds which 
 had been intrusted to his charge for specific 
 purposes. 
 
 " Searle," said the colonel, after they had 
 walked along silently for a few minutes, *' 1 was 
 telling you this evening about that vacant 
 captaincy." 
 
 " Yes, you were telling me I shouldn't have 
 it," replied Philip, with an accent of injured 
 friendship. 
 
 ^' Well, I fancied it out of my power to do 
 anything about it. But " 
 
 " Well, but ?" 
 
 " I think I might get it for you, for — 
 for" 
 
 " A consideration ?" suggested Philip, inter- 
 rogatively, 
 
 Well, to be plain with you, let me have five 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 17^ 
 
 Inmdred, and you've won all of that to-night, 
 and I'll get you the captaincy." 
 
 " We'll talk about it to-morrow morning," 
 replied Philip. 
 
 And in the morning the bargain was con- 
 cluded ; Philip, with the promise that all should 
 be satisfactorily arranged, started the same day 
 for Washington, to await the commission so 
 honorably disposed of by the gallant colonel. 
 
180 FORT LATAYETTE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XYin. 
 
 "We will let thirty days pass on, and bear tlie 
 reader Sonth of the Potomac, beyond tlie Fede- 
 ral lines and witliin rifle-shot of an advanced 
 picket of the Confederate army, under General 
 Beauregard. It was a dismal night — the 16tli 
 of July. The rain fell heavily and the wind 
 moaned and shrieked through the lone forests 
 like unhappy spirits wailing in the darkness. 
 A solitary horseman was cautiously wending his 
 way through the storm upon the Centreville 
 road and toward the Confederate line. He bore 
 a white handkerchief, and from time to time, as 
 his ear seemed to catch a sound other than the 
 voice of the tempest, he drew his rein and raised 
 the fluttering symbol at his drawn sword's 
 point. Through the dark masses of foliage that 
 skirted the roadside, presently could be seen 
 the fitful glimmer of a watchfire, and the tra- 
 veller redoubled his precautions, but yet rode 
 steadily on. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 181 
 
 " Halt !" cried a stern, loud voice from a 
 clump of buslics that looked black and threaten- 
 ing in the darkness. The horseman checked 
 his horse and sat immovable in the centre of 
 the road. 
 
 " Who goes there T' followed quick, in the 
 same deep, peremptory tone. 
 
 " An officer of the United States, with a flag 
 of truce," was answered in a clear, firm voice. 
 
 " Stand where you are." There was a pause, 
 and presently four dark forms emerged from the 
 roadside, and stood at the horse's head. 
 
 " You've chosen a strange time for your 
 errand, and a dangerous one," said one of the 
 party, with a mild and gentlemanly accent. 
 
 '^ Who speaks ?" 
 
 " The officer in command of this picket." 
 
 " Is not that Beverly Weems ?" 
 
 " The same. And surely I know that 
 voice." 
 
 " Of course you do, if you know Harold 
 Hare." 
 
 And the stranger, dismounting, stretched out 
 his hand, which was eagerly and warmly clasped, 
 and followed by a silent and prolonged embrace. 
 
182 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 ^' How rasli you have been, Harold," said 
 Beverly, at last. "It is a mercy that I was 
 by, else might a bullet have been your welcome. 
 "Why did you not wait till morning?" 
 
 " Because my mission admits of no delay. It 
 is most opportune that I have met you. You 
 have spoken to me at times, and Oriana often, 
 of your young cousin, Miranda." 
 
 " Yes, Harold, what of her ?" 
 
 " Beverly, she is within a riiie-shot of where 
 we stand, very sick — dying I believe." 
 
 " Good God, Harold ! what strange tale is 
 this?" 
 
 "I am in command of an advanced picket, 
 stationed at the old farm-house yonder. Toward 
 dusk this evening, a carriage drove up, and 
 when challenged, a pass was presented, with 
 orders to assist the bearer, Miranda Ayleff, 
 beyond the lines. I remembered the name, and 
 stepping to the carriage door, beheld two 
 females, one of whom was bending over her 
 companion, and holding a vial, a restorative, I 
 suppose, to her lips. 
 
 " ' She has fainted, sir,' said the woman, ' and 
 is very ill. I'm afraid she won't last till she 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 183 
 
 gets to Eichmond. Can't you help her ; isn't 
 there a surgeon among you at the farm-house 
 there V 
 
 " We had no surgeon, but I had her taken into 
 the house, and made as comfortable as possible. 
 When she recovered from her swoon, she asked 
 for you, and repeatedly for Oriana, and would 
 not be comforted until I promised her that she 
 should be taken immediately on to Eichmond. 
 'She could not die there, among strangers,' 
 she said ; ' she must see one friend before she 
 died. She must go home at once and be for- 
 given.' And thus she went, half in delirium, 
 until I feared that her life would pass away, from 
 sheer exhaustion. I determined to ride over to 
 your picket at once, not dreaming, however, that 
 you were in command. At dawn to-morrow we 
 shall probably be relieved, and it might be 
 beyond my power then to meet her wishes." 
 
 " I need not say how much I thank you, 
 Harold. But you were ever kind and generous. 
 Poor girl ! Let us ride over at once, Harold. 
 Who is her companion ?" 
 
 " A woman some years her senior, but yet 
 young, though prematurely faded. I could get 
 
184 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 little from her. Not even her name. She is 
 gloomy and reserveclj even morose at times ; but 
 she seems to be kind and attentive to Miranda." 
 
 Beverly left some hasty instructions with his 
 sergeant, and rode over with Harold to the farm- 
 house. They found Miranda reclining upon a 
 couch of blankets, over which Harold had spread 
 his military cloak, for the dwelling had been 
 stripped of its furniture, and was, in fact, little 
 more than a deserted ruin. The suffering girl 
 was pale and attenuated, and her sunken eyes 
 were wild and bright with the fire of delirium. 
 Yet she seemed to recognize Beverly, and 
 stretched out her thin arms when he approached, 
 exclaiming in tremulous accents : 
 
 " Take me home, Beverly, oh, take me 
 home !" 
 
 Moll was seated by her side, upon a soldier's 
 knapsack ; her chin resting upon her hands, and 
 her black eyes fixed sullenly upon the floor. 
 She would give but short and evasive answers 
 to Beverly's questions, and stubbornly refused 
 to communicate the particulars of Miranda's 
 history. 
 
 " She broke a blood-vessel a month ago in 
 
LOVE AXD SECESSION. l85 
 
 Boston. But she got better, and was always 
 wanting to go to lier friends in Riclimond. And 
 so I brought lier on. And now you must take 
 care of her, for I'm going back to camp." 
 
 Tliis was about all the information she would 
 give, and the two young men ceased to impor- 
 tune her, and directed their attentions to the 
 patient. 
 
 The carriage was prepared and the cushions so 
 arranged, with the help of blankets, as to form a 
 kind of couch within the vehicle. Upon this 
 Miranda was tenderly lifted, and when she was 
 told tliat she should be taken home without 
 delay, and would soon see Oriana, she smiled 
 like a pleased child, and ceased complaining. 
 
 Beverly stood beside his horse, with his hand 
 clasped in Harold's. The rain poured down 
 upon them, and the single watchfire, a little 
 apart from which the silent sentinel stood lean- 
 ing on his rifle, threw its rude glare upon their 
 saddened faces. 
 
 " Good bye, old friend," said Beverly. '' We 
 have met strangely to-night, and sadly. Pray 
 heaven we may not meet more sadly on the 
 battle-iield." 
 
186 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 " Tell Oriana," replied Harold, " that I am 
 with her in mj prayers." He had not spoken 
 of her before, although Beverly had mentioned 
 that she was at the old manor house, and well. 
 " I have not heard from Arthur," he continued, 
 " for I have been much about upon scouting 
 parties since I came, but I doubt not he is well, 
 and I may find a letter when I return to camp. 
 Good bye ; and may our next meeting see peace 
 upon the land." 
 
 They parted, and the carriage, wdth Beverly 
 riding at its side, moved slowly into the dark- 
 ness, and was gone. 
 
 Harold returned into the farm-house, and found 
 Moll seated where he had left her, and still 
 gazing fixedly at the floor. He did not disturb 
 her, but paced the floor slowly, lost in his own 
 melancholy thoughts. After a silence of some 
 minutes, the woman spoke, without looking up. 
 
 " Have they gone ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " She is dying, ain't she ?" 
 
 " I fear she is very ill." 
 
 " I tell you, she's dying^and it's better that 
 she is." 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 187 
 
 She then relapsed into her former mood, but 
 after a while, as Harold paused at the window 
 and looked out, she spoke again. 
 
 " Will it soon be day ?" 
 
 " Within an hour, I think," replied Harold. 
 " Do you go back at daylight ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You have no horse ?" 
 
 " You'll lend me one, won't you ? If you 
 don't, I don't care ; I can walk." 
 
 " We will do what we can for you. What is 
 your business at the camp ?" 
 
 "IsTever mind," she answered gruffly. And 
 then, after a pause, she asked : 
 
 " Is there a man named Searle in your army 
 — Philip Searle?" 
 
 " Xay, I know not. There may be. I have 
 never heard the name. Do you seek such a per- 
 son ? Is he your friend, or relative ?" 
 
 " Never mind," she said again, and then was 
 silent as before. 
 
 With the approach of dawn, the sentry chal- 
 lenged an advancing troop, which proved to be 
 the relief picket guard. Harold saluted the 
 officer in command, and having left orders 
 
188 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 respectiyely with their subordinates, they 
 entered the farm-house together, and proceeded 
 to the apartment where Moll still remained 
 seated. She did not seem to notice their 
 entrance ; but when the new-comer's voice, in 
 some casual remark, reached her ear, she rose 
 up suddenly, and walking straight forward to 
 where the two stood, looking out at the window, 
 she placed her hand heavily, and even rudely, 
 upon his shoulder. He turned at the touch, and 
 beholding her, started back, with not only 
 astonishment, but fear. 
 
 " You needn't look so white, Philip Searle," 
 she said at last, in a low, hoarse tone. " It's 
 not a ghost you're looking at. But perhaps 
 you're only angry that you only half did your 
 business while you were at it." 
 
 " Where did you pick up this woman ?" asked 
 Searle of Harold, drawing him aside. 
 
 '' She came with an invalid on her way to 
 Richmond," replied Harold. 
 
 " What invalid ?" 
 
 He sx^oke almost in a whisper, but Moll over- 
 heard him, and answered fiercely : 
 
 '' One that is dying, Philip ; and you know 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 189 
 
 well enough who murdered her. 'Twasn't me 
 you struck the hardest blow that night. Do you 
 see that scar ? That's nothing ; but you struck 
 her to the heart." 
 
 " What does she mean ?" asked Harold, look- 
 ing sternly into Philip's disturbed eye. 
 
 " Heaven knows. She's mad," he answered. 
 " Did she tell you nothing— no absurd story ?" 
 
 " Nothing. She was sullen and uncommuni- 
 cative, and half the time took no notice of our 
 questions." 
 
 "ISTo wonder, poor thing!" said Philip. 
 "She's mad. However, I have some little 
 power with her, and if you will leave us alone 
 awhile, I will prevail upon her to go quietly 
 back to "Washington." 
 
 Harold went up to the woman, who was lean- 
 ing with folded arms against the wall, and 
 spoke kindly to her. 
 
 " Should you want assistance, I will help you. 
 We shall be going in half an hour. You must 
 be ready to go with us, you know, for you 
 can't stay here, where there may be fighting 
 presently." 
 
 " Tliank you," she replied. " Don't mind me. 
 
190 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 I can take care of myself. You can leave ns 
 alone together. I'm not afraid of liim." 
 
 Harold left tlie room, and busied himself 
 about the preparations for departure. Left alone 
 with the woman he had wronged, Philip for 
 some moments paced the room nervously and 
 with clouded brow. Finally, he stopped 
 abruptly before Moll, who had been following 
 his motions with her wild, unquiet eyes. 
 
 ""Where have you sprung from now, and 
 what do you want ?" 
 
 " Do you see that scar ?" she said again, but 
 more fiercely than before. " While that lasts, 
 there's no love 'twixt you and me, and it'll last 
 me till my death." 
 
 " Then why do you trouble me. If you 
 don't love me, why do you hang about me 
 wherever I go? We'll be better friends away 
 from each other than together. Why don't you 
 leave me alone ?" 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! we must be quits for that, you 
 know," she answered, rather wildly, and point- 
 ing to her forehead. " Do you think I'm a poor 
 whining fool like her, to get sick and die when 
 you abuse me ? I'll haunt you till I die,,£hilip ; 
 
 
• 
 
 LOYE AND SECESSION. 191 
 
 and after, too, if I can, to punish you for 
 that." 
 
 Philip fancied that he detected the gleam of 
 insanity in her eye, and he was not wrong, for 
 the terrible blow he had inflicted had injured 
 her brain ; and her mind, weakened by dissipa- 
 tion and the action of excitement upon her vio- 
 lent temperament, was tottering upon the verge 
 of madness. 
 
 " When I was watching that poor sick girl," 
 she continued, "I thought I could have loved 
 her, she was so beautiful and gentle, as she lay- 
 there, white and thin, and never speaking a word 
 against you, Philip, but thinking of her friends 
 far away, and asking to be taken home — home,- 
 where her mother was sleeping under the sod — 
 home, to be loved and kissed again before she 
 died. And I would have loved her if I hadn't 
 hated you so much that there wasn't room for 
 the love of any living creature in my bad heart. 
 1 used to sit all night and hear her talk — talk in 
 her dreams and in her fever — as if there were 
 kind people listening to her, people that were 
 kind to her long ago. And the room seemed 
 full of angels sometimes, so that I was afraid to 
 
192 ^<^KT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 move and look about ; for I could swear I heard 
 tlie framing of their wings and the rustle of their 
 feet upon the carpet. Sometimes I saw big 
 round tears upon her wasted cheeks, and I 
 wouldn't brush them awaj, for they looked like 
 jewels that the angels had dropped there. And 
 then I tried to cry myself, but, ha ! ha ! I had to 
 laugh instead, although my heart was bursting. 
 I wished I could have cried ; I'm sure it would 
 have made my heart so light, and perhaps it 
 • would have burst that ring of hot iron that was 
 pressing so hard around my head. It's there now, 
 sinking and burning right against my temples. 
 But I can't cry, I haven't since I was a little 
 girl, long ago, long ago; but I think I cried 
 when mother died, long ago, long ago." 
 
 She was speaking in a kind of dreamy mur- 
 mur, while Philip paced the room ; and finally 
 she sank down upon the floor, and sat there with 
 her hands pressed against her brows, rocking 
 herself to and fro. 
 
 "Moll," said Philip, stooping over her, and 
 speaking in a gentle tone, "I'm sorry I struck 
 you, indeed I am ; but I was drunk, and when 
 you cut me, I didn't know what I was about. 
 
LOVE AXD SECESSION. 193 
 
 Kow let's be friends, there's a good girl. You 
 must go back to Washington, you know, and to 
 New York, and stay there till I come back. 
 Won't yon, now, Moll?" 
 
 "Won't I? JS'o, Philip Searle, I won't. I'll 
 stay by you till you kill me ; yes, I will. You 
 want to go after that poor girl and torment her ; 
 but she's dying and soon you won't be able to 
 hurt her any more." 
 
 "Was it she, Moll, was it Miranda that came 
 here with you? Was she going to Rich- 
 mond ?" 
 
 " She was going to heaven, Philip Searle, out 
 of the reach of such as you and me. Fm good 
 enough for you, Philip, bad as I am ; and Pm 
 your wife, besides." 
 
 " You told her that ?" 
 
 "Told her? Ha! ha! Told her? do you 
 think I'm going to make that a secret ? 'No, no. 
 We're a bad couple, sure enough ; but I'm not 
 going to deny you, for all that. Look you, 
 young man," she continued, addressing Harold, 
 who at that moment entered the room, " that is 
 Philip Searle, and Philip Searle is my husband — 
 my husband, curse his black heart ! and if he 
 
 
194: FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 dares deny it, I'll liave him in the State prison, 
 
 for I can do it." 
 
 "She's perfectly insane," said Philip; but 
 
 Harold looked thouglitful and perplexed, and 
 
 scanned his fellow-officer's countenance with a 
 
 searching glance. 
 
 ''At all events," he said, "she must not 
 
 remain here. Mj good woman, we are ready 
 
 now, and you must come with us. We have a 
 
 horse for you, and will make you comfortable. 
 
 Are you ready ?" 
 
 " JS'o," she replied, sullenly, " I won't go. I'll 
 
 stay with my husband." 
 
 "ITay," remonstrated Harold, gently, "you 
 cannot stay here. This is no place for women. 
 "When we arrive at headquarters, you shall tell 
 your story to General McDowell, and he will see 
 that you are taken care of, and have justice if 
 you have been wronged. But you must not 
 keep us waiting. We are soldiers, you know, 
 and must do our duty." 
 
 Still, however, she insisted upon remaining 
 where she was ; but when two soldiers, at a gesture 
 from Harold, approached and took her gently by 
 the arms, she offered no resistance, and suffered 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 195 
 
 herself to be led quietly out. Harold coldly 
 saluted Searle, and left him in charge of the 
 post ; while himself and party, accompanied by 
 Moll and the coachman who had driven them 
 from Washington, were soon briskly marching 
 toward the camp. 
 
196 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTEK XIX. 
 
 Toward dusk of tlie same day, while Philip 
 and his lieutenant were seated at the rude pine 
 table, conversing after their evening meal, the 
 sergeant of the guard entered with a slip of 
 paper, on which was traced a line in pencil. 
 
 " Is the bearer below ?" asked Philip, as he 
 cast his eyes over the paper. 
 
 " Yes, sir. He was challenged a minute ago, 
 and answered with the countersign and that slip 
 for jou, sir." 
 
 '^ It's all right, sergeant ; you may send him 
 up. Mr. Williams," he continued, to his com- 
 rade, " will you please to look about a little and 
 see that all is in order. I will speak a few words 
 with this messenger." 
 
 The lieutenant and sergeant left the room, and 
 presently afterward there entered, closing the 
 door carefully after him, no less a personage 
 than Seth Eawbon. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. I97 
 
 " You're late," said Pliilip, motioning liiin to 
 a chair. 
 
 "There's an old proverb to answer that," 
 answered Rawbon, as he leisurely adjusted his 
 lank frame upon the seat. Having established 
 himself to his satisfaction, he continued : 
 
 " I had to make a considerable circuit to 
 avoid the returning picket, who might have 
 bothered me with questions. I'm in good time, 
 though. If you've made up your mind to go, 
 you'll do it as well by night, and safer too." 
 
 " What have you learned ?" 
 
 " Enough to make me welcome at headquar- 
 ters. You were right about the battle. There'll 
 be tough work soon. They're fixing for a gene- 
 ral advance. If you expect to do your first 
 fighting under the stars and bars, you must 
 swear by them to-night." 
 
 " Have you been in Washington?" 
 
 " Every nook and corner of it. They don't 
 keep their eyes skinned, I fancy, up there. Your 
 fancy colonels have slippery tongues when the 
 champagne corks are flying. If they fight as 
 hard as they drink, they'll give us trouble. Well, 
 what do you calculate to do?" lie added, after a 
 
198 J'ORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 pause, during whicli Philip was moody and lost 
 in thought. 
 
 Philip rose from his seat and paced the floor 
 uneasily, while Kawbon filled a glass from a 
 flask of brandy on the table. It was now quite 
 dark without, and neither of them observed the 
 figure of a woman crouched on the narrow 
 veranda, her chin resting on the sill of the open 
 window. At last Philip resumed his seat, and 
 he, too, swallowed a deep draught from the flask 
 of brandy. 
 
 " Tell me what I can count upon ?" he asked. 
 
 " The same grade you have, and in a crack 
 regiment. It's no use asking for money. They've 
 none to spare for such as you — now don't look 
 savage — I mean they won't buy men that hain't 
 seen service, and you can't expect them to. I 
 told you all about that before, and it's time you 
 had your mind made up." 
 
 " What proofs of good faith can you give me ?" 
 
 Eawbon thrust his hand into his bosom and 
 drew out a roll of parchment. 
 
 " This commission, under Gen. Beauregard's 
 hand, to be approved when you report yourself 
 at headquarters." 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 199 
 
 Philip took the clocTiment and read it atten- 
 tively, while Eawhon occupied himself with 
 filling his pipe from a leathern pouch. Tlio 
 female figure stepped in at the window, and, 
 gliding noiselessly into the room, seated her- 
 self in a tliii-d chair by the table before either 
 of the men became aware of her presence. Thev 
 started up with astonishment and consternation. 
 She did not seem to heed them, but leaning 
 upon tlie table, she stretched her hand to the 
 brandy flask and applied it to her lips. 
 
 " Who's this ?" demanded Eawbon, with his 
 hand upon the hilt of his large bowie knife. 
 
 " Curse her ! my evil genius," answered 
 Philip, grating his teeth with anger. It was 
 Moll. 
 
 " What's this, Philip !" she said, clutching 
 the parchment which had been dropped upon 
 the table. 
 
 " Leave that," ejaculated her husband, sav- 
 fio-elv, and dartin2; to take it from her 
 
 But she eluded his grflsp, and ran with the 
 document into a corner of the room. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! I know what it is," she said, 
 waving it about as a schoolboy sometimes exult- 
 
200 ^ORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 inglj exhibits a toy that he has mischievously 
 snatched from a comrade. 
 
 " It's your death-warrant, Philip Searle, if 
 somebody sees it over yonder. I heard you. I 
 heard you. You're going over to fight for Jeff. 
 Davis. "Well, I don't care, but I'll go with you. 
 Don't come near me. Don't hurt me, Philip, or 
 I'll scream to the soldier out there." 
 
 " I won't hurt you, Moll. Be quiet now, 
 there's a good girl. Come here and take a sup 
 more of brandy." 
 
 " I won't. You want to hurt me. But you 
 can't. I'm a match for you both. Ha ! ha ! 
 You don't know how nicely I slipped away from 
 the soldiers when they were resting. I went 
 into the thick bushes, right down in the water, 
 and lay still. I wanted to laugh when I saw 
 them hunting for me, and I could almost have 
 touched the young officer if I had wished. "But 
 I lay still as a mouse, and they went off and 
 never found me. Ha ! ha ! ha !" 
 
 '' Is she drunk or mad ?" asked Pawbon. 
 
 '•' jMad," answered Philip, " but cunning enough 
 to do mischief, if she has a mind to. Moll, dear, 
 come sit down here and be quiet; come, now." 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 201 
 
 " Mad ? mad ?" murmured Moll, catcliing his 
 word. " Ko, I'm not mad," she continued wildly, 
 passing her hands over her brows, ^' but I saw 
 spirits just now in the woods, and heard voices, 
 and they've frightened me. The ghost of the 
 girl that died in the hospital was there. You 
 knew little blue-eyed Lizzie, Philip. She was 
 cursing me when she died and calling for her 
 mother. But I don't care. The man paid me 
 well for getting her, and 'twasn't my fault if 
 she got sick and died. Poor thing ! poor thing ! 
 poor little blue-eyed Lizzie ! She was innocent 
 enough, when she first came, but she got to be 
 as bad as any — until she got sick and died. 
 Poor little Lizzie !" And thus murmuring inco- 
 herently, the unhappy woman sat down upon 
 the floor, and bent her head upon her knees. 
 
 " Clap that into her mouth," whispered 
 Philip, handing Kawbon his handkerchief rolled 
 tightly into a ball. " Quietly now, but quick. 
 Look out now. She's strong as a trooper." 
 
 They approached her without noise, but sud- 
 denly, and while Philip grasped her wrists, 
 Eawbon threw back her head, and forcing the 
 jaws open by a violent pressure of his knuckles 
 9* 
 
203 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 against the joint, thrust the handkerchief be- 
 tween her teeth and bound it tightly there with 
 two turns of his sash. The shriek was checked 
 upon her hps and changed into a painful, gurg- 
 ling groan. The poor creature, with convulsive 
 efforts, struggled to free her arms from Philip's 
 grasp, but he managed to keep his hold until 
 Rawbon had secured her wrists with the stout 
 cord that suspended his canteen. A silk neck- 
 erchief was then tightly bound around her 
 ankles, and Moll, with heaving breast and glar- 
 ing eyes, lay, moaning piteously, but speechless 
 and motionless, upon the floor. 
 
 " We can leave her there," said Rawbon. " It's 
 not likely any of your men will come in, until 
 morning at least. Let's be off at once." 
 
 Philip snatched up the parchment where it 
 had fallen, and silently followed his companion. 
 
 " We are going beyond the line to look about 
 a bit," he said to the sergeant on duty, as they 
 passed his post. " Keep all still and quiet till 
 we return." 
 
 ^' Take some of the boys with you, captain," 
 replied the sergeant. '* We're impleasant close 
 to those devils, sir." 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 203 
 
 " It's all riglit, sergeant. There's no danger." 
 And nodding to Setli, the two walked leisurely 
 along the road until concealed by the darkness, 
 when they quickened their pace and pushed 
 boldly toward the Confederate lines. 
 
 Half an hour, or less perhaps, after their de- 
 parture, the sentry, posted at about a hundred 
 yards from the house, observed an unusual light 
 gleaming from the windows of the old farm- 
 house. He called the attention of Lieutenant 
 Williams, who was walking by in conversation 
 with the sergeant, to the circumstance. 
 
 " Is not the captain there ?" asked the lieute- 
 nant. 
 
 " ]^o, sir," replied the sergeant, *' he started 
 off to go beyond the line half an hour ago." 
 
 "Alone?" 
 
 " IS'o, sir ; that chap that came in at dusk 
 was with him." 
 
 " It's strange he should have gone without 
 speaking to me about it." 
 
 " I wanted him to take some of our fellows 
 along, sir, but he didn't care to. By George! 
 that house is afire, sir. Look there." 
 
 While talking, they had been proceeding 
 
204 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 toward tlie farm-house, wlien the light from the 
 "windows brightened snddenlj into a broad 
 glare, and called forth the sergeant's exclama- 
 tion. Before thej reached the building a jet 
 of flame had leaped from one of the casements, 
 and continued to whirl like a flaming ribbon in 
 the air. Thev quickened their pace to a run, 
 and bursting into the doorway, were driven 
 back by a dense volume of smoke, that rolled 
 in black masses along the corridor. They went 
 in again, and the sergeant pushed open the door 
 of the room where Moll lay bound, but shut it 
 quickly again, as a tongue of flame lashed itself 
 toward him like an angry snake. 
 
 " It's all afire, sir," he said, coughing and 
 spluttering through the smoke. " Are there any 
 of the captain's traps inside ?" 
 
 "^Nothing at all," replied the lieutenant. 
 " Let's go in, however, and see what can be 
 done." 
 
 Tliey entered, but were driven back by the 
 bafiiing smoke and the flames that were now 
 licking all over the dry plastering of the room. 
 
 " It's no use," said the lieutenant, when they 
 had gained theii* breath in the open air. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 205 
 
 " There's no Wcater, except in the brook down 
 yonder, and what the men have in their can- 
 teens. The honse is like tinder. Let it go, 
 sergeant ; it's not worth saving at the risk of 
 singing your whiskers." 
 
 The men had now come np, and gathered 
 about the officer to receive his commands. 
 
 " Let tlie old shed go, my lads," he said. 
 " It's well enough that some rebel should give 
 ns a bonfire now and then. Only stand out of 
 the glare, boys, or you may have some of those 
 devils yonder making targets of you." 
 
 The men fell back into the shadow, and stand- 
 ing in little groups, or seated upon the sward, 
 watched the burning house, well pleased to 
 have some spectacle to relieve the monotony 
 of the night. And they looked w^ith indolent 
 gratification, passing the light jest and the 
 merry word, while the red flames kept up their 
 wild sport, and great masses of rolling vapor 
 upheaved from the crackling roof, and black- 
 ened the midnight sky. Xone sought to read 
 the mystery of that conflagration. It was but 
 an old barn gone to ashes a little before its 
 time. Perhaps some mischievous hand among 
 
206 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 them had applied the torch for a bit of devil- 
 try. Perhaps the flames had caught from 
 Kawbon's pipe, which he had thrown carelessly 
 among a heap of rubbish when startled by Molly's 
 sudden apparition. Or yet, perhaps, though 
 Heaven forbid it, for the sake of human nature, 
 the same hand that had struck so nearly fatally 
 once, had been tempted to complete the work 
 of death in a more terrible form. 
 
 But within those blistering walls, who can 
 tell what ghastly revels the mad flames were 
 having over their bound and solitary victim! 
 Perhaps, as she lay there with distended jaws, 
 and eyeballs starting from their sockets, that 
 brain, amid the visions of its madness, became 
 conscious of the first kindling of the subtle 
 element that was so soon to clasp her in its 
 terrible embrace. How dreadful, while the 
 long minutes dragged, to watch its stealthy 
 progress, and to feel that one little efiort of 
 an unbound hand could avert the danger, and 
 yet to lie there helpless, motionless, without 
 even the power to give utterance to the shriek 
 of terror which strained her throat to sufi*oca- 
 tion. And then, as the creeping flame became 
 
LOYE AND SECESSION. §07 
 
 stronger and brighter, and took long and silent 
 leaps from one object to another, gliding along 
 the lathed and papered wall, rolling and curl- 
 ing along the raftered ceiling, would not the 
 wretched woman, raving already in delirium, 
 behold the spectres that her madness feared, 
 beckoning to her in the lurid glare, or gliding 
 in and out among the wild fires that whirled 
 in fantastic gambols around and overhead! 
 IS'earer and nearer yet the rolling flame ad- 
 vances ; it commences to hiss and murmur in 
 its progress ; it wreathes itself about the chairs 
 and tables, and laps up the little pool of brandy 
 spilled from the forgotten flask ; it plays about 
 her feet, and creeps lazily amid the folds of 
 her gown, yet wet from the brook in which 
 she had concealed herself that day ; it scorches 
 and shrivels up the flesh upon her limbs, while 
 pendent fiery tongues leap from the burning 
 rafters, and kiss her cheeks and brows where 
 the black veins swell almost to bursting ; every 
 muscle and nerve of her frame is strained with 
 convulsive efforts to escape, but the cords only 
 sink into the bloating flesh, and she lies there 
 crisping like a log, and as powerless to move. 
 
208 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 The dense, black smoke hangs over her like a 
 pall, but prostrate as she is, it cannot sink 
 low enough to sufiocate and end her agony. 
 How the bared bosom heaves! how the tor- 
 tured limbs writhe, and the blackening cuticle 
 emits a nauseous steam! Tlie black blood 
 oozing from her nostrils proclaims how terrible 
 the inward struggle. The whole frame bends 
 and shrinks, and warps like a fragment of 
 leather thrown into a furnace — the flame has 
 reached her vitals — at last, bj God's mercj, 
 she is dead. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 20^ 
 
 CHxiPTER XX. 
 
 At dawn of tlie morning of the 21st of July, 
 an officer in 23lain undress was bnsily writing at 
 a table in a plainlj-furnislied apartment of a 
 farm-house near Manassas. He was of middle 
 age and medium size, with dark complexion, 
 bold, prominent features, and steady, piercing 
 black eyes. His manner and the respectful 
 demeanor of several officers in attendance, rather 
 than any insignia of office which he wore, 
 bespoke him of high rank ; and the earnest 
 attention which he bestowed upon his labor, 
 together with the numerous orders, written and 
 verbal, which he delivered at intervals to mem- 
 bers of his staff, denoted that an affair of 
 importance was in hand. Several horses, ready 
 caparisoned, were held by orderlies at the door- 
 way, and each aid, as he received instructions, 
 mounted and dashed away at a gallop. 
 
 Tlie building was upon a slight elevation of 
 land, and along the plain beneath could be seen 
 
210 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 the long rows of tents and the curling smoke of 
 camp-fires ; while the hum of many voices in the 
 distance, with here and there a bugle-blast and 
 the spirit-stirring roll of drums, denoted the site 
 of the Confederate army. The reveille had just 
 sounded, and the din of active preparation could 
 be heard throughout the camp. Regiments 
 were forming, and troops of horse were mar- 
 shalling in squadron, while others were galloping 
 here and there ; while, through the ringing of 
 sabres and the strains of marshal music, the low 
 rumbling of the heavy- wheeled artillery was the 
 most ominous sound. 
 
 An orderly entered the apartment where Gene- 
 ral Beauregard was writing, and spoke with one 
 of the members of the staff in waiting. 
 
 "What is it, colonel?" asked the general, 
 looking up. 
 
 " An officer from the outposts, with two 
 prisoners, general." And he added something 
 in a lower tone. 
 
 " Yery opportune," said Beauregard. " Let 
 them come in." 
 
 Hie orderly withdrew and reentered with 
 Captain Weems, followed by Philip Searle and 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 211 
 
 Kawbon. A glance of recognition passed be- 
 tween the latter and Beauregard, and Seth, 
 obeying a gesture of the general, advanced and 
 placed a small package on the table. The gene- 
 ral opened it hastily and glanced over its contents. 
 
 "As I thought," he muttered. " You are sure 
 as to the disposition of the advance ?" 
 
 " Quite sure of the main features." 
 
 " When did you get in ?" 
 
 " Only an hour ago. Their vanguard was 
 close behind. Before noon, I think they will be 
 upon you in three columns from the different 
 roads." 
 
 " Yery well, you may go now. Come to me 
 in half an hour. I shall have work for you. 
 Who is that with you ?" 
 
 " Captain Searle." 
 
 " Of whom we spoke ?" 
 
 " The same." 
 
 The general nodded, and Seth left the apart- 
 ment. Beauregard for a second scanned Philip's 
 countenance with a searching glance. 
 
 "Approach, sir, if you please. We have 
 little time for words. Have you information to 
 impart ?" 
 
212 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 "Nothing beyond what I think you know 
 already. You may expect at every moment to 
 hear the boom of McDowell's guns." 
 
 " On the right ?" 
 
 " I think the movement will be on your left. 
 Kichardson remains on the soutliern road, in 
 reserve. Tyler commands the centre. Carlisle, 
 Kicket and Ay re will give you trouble there 
 with their batteries. Hunter and Heintzelman, 
 with fourteen thousand, will act upon your left." 
 
 "Then we are wrong, Taylor," said Beaure- 
 gard, turning to an officer at his side ; and 
 rising, the two conversed for a moment in low 
 but earnest tone. 
 
 " It is plausible," said Beauregard, at length. 
 "Taylor, ride down to Bee and see about it. 
 Captain Searle, you will report yourself to Colo- 
 nel Hampton at once. He will have orders for 
 you. Captain Weems, you will please see him 
 provided for. Come, gentlemen, to the field !" 
 
 The £:eneral and his staff were soon mounted 
 and riding rapidly toward the masses and long 
 lines of troops that were marshalling on tlie 
 plain below. 
 
 Beverly stood at the doorway alone with 
 
LOYE Am) SECESSION. 213 
 
 Philip Searle. He was grave and sad, although 
 the bustle and preparation of an expected battle 
 lent a lustre to his eye. To his companion he 
 was stern and distant, and they both walked 
 onward for some moments without a word. At 
 a short distance from the building, they came 
 upon a black groom holding two saddled horses. 
 
 " Mount, sir, if you please," said Beverly, and 
 they rode forward at a rapid pace. Philip was 
 somewhat surprised to observe that their course 
 lay away from the camp, and in fact the sounds 
 of military life were lessening as they went on. 
 They passed the brow of the hill and descended 
 by a bridle-path into a little valley, thick with 
 shrubbery and trees. At the gateway of a plea- 
 sant looking cottage Beverly drew rein. 
 
 " I must ask you to enter here," he said, dis- 
 mounting. " Within a few hours we shall both 
 be, probably, in the ranks of battle ; but first I 
 have a duty to perform." 
 
 They entered the cottage, within which all 
 was hushed and still ; the sounds of an active 
 household were not heard. Tliey ascended the 
 little stair, and Beverly pushed gently open the 
 door of an apartment and motioned to Philip to 
 
214: FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 enter. He paused at first, for as lie stood on the 
 threshold a low sob reached his ear. 
 
 "Pass in," said Beverlj, in a grave, stern 
 tone. "I have promised that I would bring 
 you, else, be assured, I would not linger in your 
 presence." 
 
 They entered. It was a small, pleasant room, 
 and through the lattice, interwoven with wood- 
 bine the rising sun looked in like a friendly 
 visitor. Upon a bed was stretched the form of a 
 young girl, sleeping or dead, it would be hard 
 to tell, the features were so placid and beautiful 
 in repose. One ray of sunlight fell among the 
 tangles of her golden hair, and glowed like a 
 halo above the marble- white brow. The long 
 dark lashes rested upon her cheek with a deli- 
 cate contrast like that of the velvety moss when 
 it peeps from the new-fallen snow. Her hands 
 were folded upon her bosom above the white 
 coverlet ; they clasped a lily, that seemed as if 
 sculptured upon a churchyard stone, so white 
 was the flower, so white the bosom that it 
 pressed. One step nearer revealed that she was 
 dead ; earthly sleep was never so calm and beau- 
 tiful. By the bedside Oriana Weems was 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 215 
 
 seated, weeping silently. She arose when her 
 brother entered, and went to him, putting her 
 hands about liis neck. Beverly tenderly circled 
 his arm about her waist, and they stood together 
 at the bedside, gazing on all that death had left 
 upon earth of their young cousin, Miranda. 
 
 " She died this morning very soon after you 
 left," said Oriana, " without pain and I think 
 without sorrow, for she wore that same sweet 
 smile that you see now frozen upon her lips. 
 Oh, Beverly, I am sorry you brought him here !" 
 she added, in a lower tone, glancing with a shud- 
 der at Philip Searle, who stood looking with a 
 frown out at the lattice, and stopping the sun- 
 beam from coming into the room. " It seems," 
 she continued, " as if his presence brought a 
 curse that would drag upon the angels' wings 
 that are bearing her to heaven. Though, thank 
 God, she is beyond his power to harm her now!" 
 and she knelt beside the pillow and pressed her 
 lips upon the cold, white brow. 
 
 *^ She wished to see him, Oriana, before she 
 died," said Beverly, " and I promised to bring 
 him ; and yet I am glad she passed away before 
 his coming, for I am sure he could bring no 
 
216 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 peace witli him for tlie dying, and liis presence 
 now is but an insult to the dead." 
 
 When he had spoken, there was silence for a 
 while, which was broken bj the sudden boom 
 of a distant cannon. They all started at the 
 sound, for it awakened them from mournful 
 memories, to yet perhaps more solemn thoughts 
 of what was to come before that bright sun 
 should rise upon the morrow. Beverly turned 
 slowly to where Philip stood, and pointed sternly 
 at the death-bed. 
 
 " You have seen enough, if you have dared 
 to look at all," he said. '' I have not the power, 
 nor the will, to punish. A soldier's death to-day 
 is what you can best pray for, that you may not 
 live to think of this hereafter. She sent for you 
 to forgive you, but died and you are unforgiven. 
 Bad as you are, I j)ity you that you must go 
 to battle haunted by the remembrance of this 
 murder that you have done." 
 
 Philip half turned with an angry curl upon 
 his lip, as if prepared for some harsh answer; 
 but he saw the white thin face and folded hands, 
 and left the room without a word. 
 
 " Farewell ! dear sister," said Beverly, clasp- 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 217 
 
 ing the weeping girl in his arms. " I have 
 already overstaid the hour, and must spur hard 
 to he at my post in time. God bless you ! it 
 may be I shall never see you again ; if so, I 
 leave you to God and my country. But I trust 
 all will be well." 
 
 " Oh, Beverly ! come back to me, my brother ; 
 I am alone in the world 'without you. I would 
 not have you swerve from your duty, although, 
 death came with it ; but yet, remember that I 
 am alone without you, and be not rash or reck- 
 less. I will watch and pray for you beside this 
 death-bed, Beverly, while you are fighting, and 
 may God be with you." 
 
 Beverly summoned an old negress to the 
 room, and consigned his sister to her care. De- 
 scending the stairs rapidly, he leaped upon his 
 horse, and waving his hand to Philip, who was 
 already mounted, they plunged along the valley, 
 and ascending the crest of the hill, beheld, while 
 they still spurred on, the vast army in motion 
 before them, while far off in the vanward, from 
 time to time, the dull, heavy booming of artil- 
 lery told that the work was already begun. 
 10 
 
218 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 On the evening of the 20th July, Hunter's 
 division, to which Harold Hare was attached, 
 was bivouacked on the old Braddock Road, 
 about a mile and a half southeast of Centreville. 
 It was midnight. TJiere was a strange and 
 solemn hush throughout the camp, broken only 
 by the hail of the sentinel and the occasional 
 trampling of horses hoofs, as some aid-de-camp 
 galloped hastily along the line. Some of the 
 troops were sleeping, dreaming, perhaps, of 
 home, and far away, for the time, from the 
 thougrht of the morrow's dan2:er. But most 
 were keeping vigil through the long hours of 
 darkness, communing with themselves or talking 
 in low murmurs with some comrade ; for each 
 soldier knew that the battle-hour was at liand. 
 Harold was stretched upon his cloak, striving in 
 vain to win the boon of an hour's sleep, for he 
 was weary with the toil of the preceding day ; 
 but he could not shut out from his brain the 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 219 
 
 whirl of excitement and suspense wliich that 
 night kept so many tired fellows wakeful when 
 they most needed rest. It was useless to court 
 slumber, on the eve, perhaps, of his eternal 
 sleep; he arose and walked about into the 
 night. . 
 
 Standing beside the dying embers of a watch- 
 fire, wrapped in his blanket, and gazing thought- 
 fully into the little drowsy flames that yet curled 
 about the blackened fagots, was a tall and 
 manly form, which Harold recognized as that of 
 his companion in arms, a young lieutenant of his 
 company. He approached, and placed his hand 
 upon his fellow-soldier's arm. 
 
 ^^What book of fate are you reading in the 
 ashes, Harry?" he asked, in a pleasant tone, 
 anxious to dispel some portion of his own and 
 his comrade's moodiness. 
 
 The soldier turned to him and smiled, but sor- 
 rowfully and with effort. 
 
 "My own destiny, perhaps," he answered. 
 "Tliose ashes were glowing once with light and 
 warmth, and before the dawn they will be cold, 
 as you or I may be to-morrow, Harold." 
 
 " I thought you were too old a soldier to nurse 
 
220 F^^RT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 such fancies upon the eve of battle. 1 must 
 confess that I, who am a novice in this work, am 
 as restless and nervous as a woman ; but you 
 have been seasoned by a Mexican campaign, 
 and I came to you expressly to be laughed into 
 fortitude again." 
 
 "You must go on till you meet one more 
 lighthearted than myself," answered the other, 
 with a sigh. '' Ah ! Harold, I have noue of the 
 old elasticity about me to-night. I would I were 
 back under my father's roof, never to hear the 
 roll of the battle-drum again. Tliis is a cruel 
 war, Harold." 
 
 "A just one." 
 
 " Yes, but cruel. Have you any that you love 
 over yonder, Harold ? Any that are dear to you, 
 and that you must strike at on the morrow ?" 
 
 " Yes, Harry, that is it. It is, as you say, a 
 cruel war." 
 
 '' I have a brother there," continued his com- 
 panion ; and he looked sadly into the gloom, as 
 if he yearned through the darkness and distance 
 to catch a glimpse of the well-kno^vn form. "A 
 brother that, when I last saw him, was a little 
 rosy-cheeked boy, and used to ride upon my 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 221 
 
 knee. lie is scarce more tliaii a boy now, and 
 yet lie will shoulder Lis musket to-morrow, and 
 stand in the ranks perhaps to he cut down by 
 the hand that has caressed him. lie was our 
 mother's darling, and it is a mercy that she 
 is not living to see us armed against each other." 
 
 "It is a painful thought," said Harold, "and 
 one that you should dismiss from contemplation. 
 The chances are thousands to one that you will 
 never meet in battle." 
 
 " I trust the first bullet that will be fired may 
 reach my heart, rather than that we should. 
 But who can tell? I have a strange, gloomy 
 feeling upon me ; I would say a presentiment, if 
 I were superstitious." 
 
 " It is a natural feeling upon the eve of battle. 
 Think no more of it. Look how prettily the 
 moon is creeping from under the edge of yonder 
 cloud. ^Ye shall have a bright day for the fight, 
 I think." 
 
 "Yes, that's a comfort. One fights all the 
 better in the warm sunlight, as if to show the 
 bright heavens what bloodthirsty devils Ave can 
 be upon occasion. Ilark !" 
 
 It was the roll of the drum, startling the still- 
 
FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 ness of the niglit ; and presently, the brief, stern 
 orders of the sergeants could be heard calling 
 the men into the ranks. There is a strange 
 mingled feeling of awe and excitement in this 
 marshalling of men at night for a dangerous 
 expedition. The orders are given instinctively 
 in a more subdued and sterner tone, as if in 
 unison with the solemnity of the hour. The 
 tramp of marching feet strikes with a more dis- 
 tinct and hollow sound upon the ear. The dark 
 masses seem to move more compactly, as if each 
 soldier drew nearer to his comrade for compa- 
 nionship. The very horses, although alert and 
 eager, seem to forego their prancing, and move 
 with sober tread. And when the word " for- 
 ward !" rings along the dark column, and the 
 long and silent ranks bend and move on as with 
 an electric impulse, there is a thrill in every 
 vein, and each heart contracts for an instant, as 
 if the black portals of a terrible destiny were 
 open in the van. 
 
 A half hour of silent hurry and activity 
 passed away, and at last the whole army was in 
 motion. It was now three o'clock ; the moon 
 shone down upon the serried ranks, gleaming 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 223 
 
 from bayonet and cannon, and stretching long 
 black shadows athwart the road. From time to 
 time along the column could be heard tlie ring- 
 ing voice of some commander, as he galloped to 
 the van, cheering his men with some well-timed 
 allusion, or dispelling the surrounding gloom with 
 a cheerful promise of victory. Where tlie wood 
 road branched from the Warrentown. turnpike. 
 Gen. McDowell, standing in his open carriage, 
 looked down upon the passing columns, and 
 raised his hat, when the excited soldiers cheered 
 as they hurried on. Here Hunter's column 
 turned to the right, while the main body moved 
 straight on to the centre. Then all became 
 more silent than before, and the light . jest 
 passing from comrade to comrade was less fre- 
 quent, for each one felt that every step onward 
 brouf>:ht him nearer to the foe. 
 
 The eastern sky soon paled into a greyish, 
 light, and ruddy streaks pushed out from the 
 horizon. The air breathed fresher and purer 
 than in the darkness, and the bright sun, with 
 an advance guard of thin, rosy clouds, shot 
 upward from the horizon in a blaze of splendor. 
 It was the Sabbath morn. 
 
224 FORT lafaye3:te; or, 
 
 The boom of a heavy gun is heard from the 
 centre. Carlisle has opened the ball. The 
 day's work is begun. Anotlier ! The echoes 
 spring from the hillsides all around, like a thou- 
 sand angry tongues that threaten death. But 
 on the right, no trace of an enemy is to be seen. 
 Burnside's brigade was in the van ; they 
 reached the ford at Sudley's Springs ; a momen- 
 tary confusion ensues as the column prepares to 
 cross. Soon the men are pushing boldly through 
 the shallow stream, but the temptation is too great 
 for their parched throats ; they stoop to drink and 
 to fill their canteens from the cool wave. But 
 as they look up they see a cloud of dust roll- 
 ing up from the plain beyond, and their thirst 
 has passed away — they know that the foe is 
 there. 
 
 An aid comes spurring down the bank, 
 waving his hand and splashing into the stream. 
 
 '' Forward, men ! forward !" 
 
 Hunter gallops to meet him, with his staff 
 clattering at his horse's heels. 
 
 " Break the heads of regiments from the col- 
 umn and push on — ^pusli on !" 
 
 Tlie field officers dash along the ranks, and the 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 225 
 
 men spring to tlieir work, as tlie word of com- 
 mand is echoed from mouth to mouth. 
 
 Crossing the stream, their course extended for 
 a mile through a thick wood, but soon they came 
 to the open country, with unduhiting fields, 
 rolling toward a little valley through which a 
 brooklet ran. And beyond that stream, among 
 the trees and foliage which line its bank and 
 extend in wooded patches southward, the left 
 wing of the enemy are in battle order. 
 
 From a clump of bushes directly in front, 
 came a puff of white smoke wreathed with 
 flame ; the whir of the hollow ball is heard, and 
 it ploughs the moist ground a few rods from 
 our advance. 
 
 Scarcely had the dull report reverberated, 
 when, in quick succession, a dozen jets of fire 
 gleamed out, and the shells came plunging into 
 the ranks. Burnside's brigade was in advance 
 and unsupported, but under the iron hail the 
 line was formed, and the cry " Forward !" was 
 answered with a cheer.. A long grey line spread 
 out upon the hillside, forming rapidly from the 
 outskirts of the little wood. It was the Southern 
 
 10* 
 
226 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 iiifantiy, and soon along their line a deadly fire 
 of musketry was opened. 
 
 Meanwhile the heavy firing from the left and 
 further on, announced that the centre and 
 extreme left were engaged. A detachment of 
 regulars was sent to Burnside's relief, and held 
 the enemy in check till a portion of Porter's and 
 Heintzelman's division came up and pressed 
 them back from their position. 
 
 The battle was fiercely raging in the centre, 
 where the 69th had led the van and were charg- 
 ing the murderous batteries with the bayonet. 
 "We must leave their deeds to be traced by the 
 historic pen, and confine our narrative to the 
 scene in which Harold bore a part. The nearest 
 battery, supported by Carolinians, had been 
 silenced. The Mississippians had wavered before 
 successive charges, and an Alabama regiment, 
 after four times hurling back the serried ranks 
 that dashed against them, had fallen back, out- 
 flanked and terribly cut up. On the left was a 
 farm-house, situated on an elevated ridge a little 
 back from the road. Within, while the fiercest 
 battle raged, was its solitary inmate, an aged 
 and bed-ridden lady, whose paralyzed and help- 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 227 
 
 less form was stretched upon the bed where for 
 fourscore years she had slept the calm sleep of a 
 Christian. She had sent her attendants from the 
 dwelling to seek a place of safety, but would not 
 herself consent to be removed, for she heard the 
 whisper of the angel of death, and chose to meet 
 him there in the house of her childhood. For 
 the possession of the hill on which the building 
 stood, the opposing hosts were hotly struggling. 
 The fury of the battle seemed to concentre there, 
 and through the time-worn walls the shot was 
 plunging, splintering the planks and beams, and 
 shivering tlie stone foundation. Sherman's bat- 
 tery came thundering up the hill upon its last 
 desperate advance. Just as the foaming horses 
 were wheeled upon its summit, the van of 
 Hampton's legion sprang up the opposite side, 
 and the crack of a hundred rifles simultaneously 
 sounded. Down fell the cannoneers beside their 
 guns before those deadly missiles, and the 
 plunging horses were slaughtered in the traces, 
 or, wounded to the death, lashed out their iron 
 hoofs among the maimed and writhing soldiers 
 and into the heaps of dead. The battery was 
 captured, but held only for an instant, when two 
 
FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 companies of Eliocle Islanders, led on bj Harold 
 Hare, charged madlj up the hill. 
 
 " Save the guns, boys I" he cried, as the gal- 
 lant fellows bent their heads low, and sprang 
 up the ascent right in the face of the blazing 
 rifles. 
 
 " Fire low ! stand firm ! drive them back once 
 again, mv brave Virginians !" shouted a young 
 Southern officer, springing to the foremost rank. 
 
 The mutual fire was delivered almost at the 
 rifles' muzzles, and the long sword-bajonets 
 clashed together. Without yielding ground, for 
 a few terrible seconds they thrust and parried 
 with the clanging steel, while on either side the 
 dead were stiffening beneath their feet, and the 
 wounded, with shrieks of agony, were clutching 
 at their limbs. Harold and the young Southron 
 met ; their swords clashed together once in the 
 smoke and dust, and but once, when each drew 
 back and lowered his weapon, wliile all around 
 were striking. Then, amid that terrible discord, 
 their two left hands were pressed together for an 
 instant, and a low " God bless you !" came from 
 the lips of both. 
 
 " To the right, Beverly, keep you to the 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 229 
 
 right !" said Harold, and lie himself, straight 
 through the liostile ranks, sprang in an o])posite 
 direction. 
 
 When Harold's party had first charged np the 
 hill, the young lieutenant with ^lioni he had 
 conversed beside the watch-fire on the previous 
 evening, was at the head of his platoon, and as 
 the two bodies met, he sent the last shot from his 
 revolver full in the faces of the foremost rank. 
 So close were they, that the victim of that shot, 
 struck in the centre of the forehead, tottered for- 
 ward, and fell into his arms. There was a cry 
 of horror that pierced even above the shrieks of 
 the wounded and the yells of the fierce com- 
 batants. One glance at that fair, ^'■outhful face 
 sufficed — it was his brother — dead in his arms, 
 dead by a brother's hand. The yellow hair yet 
 curled above the temples, but the rosy bloom 
 upon the cheek was gone ; already the ashen 
 hue of death was there. There was a small 
 round hole just where the golden locks waved 
 from the edge of the brow, and from it there 
 slowly welled a single globule of black gore. It 
 left the face undisfigured — ^pale, but tranquil 
 and undistorted as a sleeping child's — not even 
 
280 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 a clot of blood was there to mar its beauty. The 
 strong and manly soldier knelt upon the dust, 
 and holding the dead boy with both arms 
 clasped about his waist, bent his head low down 
 upon the lifeless bosom, and gasped with an 
 agony more terrible than that which the death- 
 wound gives. 
 
 " Charley ! Oh God ! Charley ! Charley !" was 
 all that came from his white lips, and he sat 
 there like stone, with the corpse in his arms, still 
 murmuring " Charley !" unconscious that blades 
 were flashing and bullets whistling around him. 
 The blood streamed from his wounds, the bayo- 
 nets were gleaming round, and once a random 
 shot ploughed into his thigh and shivered the 
 bone. He only bent a little lower and his 
 voice was fainter ; but still he murmured 
 " Charley ! Oh God ! Charley," and never un- 
 folded his arms from its embrace. And there, 
 when the battle was over, the Southrons found 
 \iim, dead — with his dead brother in his arms. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 231 
 
 CHAPTEH XXn. 
 
 At tlie door-way of the building on the hill, 
 where the aged invalid was yielding her last 
 breath amid the roar of battle, a wounded officer 
 sat among the dying and the dead, while the 
 conflict swept a little away from that quarter 
 of the field. Tlie blood was streaming from 
 the shattered bosom, and feebly he strove to 
 staunch it with his silken scarf. He had 
 dragged himself through gore and dust until 
 he reached that spot, and now, rising again 
 with a convulsive effort, he leaned his red hands 
 against the wall, and entered over the frag- 
 ments of the door, which had been shivered by 
 a shell. With tottering steps he passed along 
 the hall and up the little stairway, as one who 
 had been familiar wi!h the place. Before the 
 door of the aged lady's chamber he paused 
 a moment and listened; all was still there, 
 although the terrible tumult of the battle was 
 soundino; all around. He entered ; he advanced 
 
232 ^ORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 to the bed-side ; the dying -woman was mur- 
 muring a prayer. A random shot had torn the 
 shrivelled flesh upon her bosom and the white 
 counterpane was stained with blood. She did 
 not see him — her thoughts were away from 
 earth, she was already seeking communion with 
 the spirits of the blest. The soldier knelt by 
 that strange death-bed and leaned his pale brow 
 upon the pillow. 
 
 " Mother !'' 
 
 How strangely the word sounded amid the 
 shouts of combatants and the din of war. It 
 was like a good angel's voice drowning the dis- 
 cords of hell. 
 
 "Mother!" 
 
 She heard not the cannon's roar, but that one 
 word, scarce louder than the murmur of a dream- 
 ing infant, reached her ear. Tlie palsied head 
 was turned upon the pillow and the light of life 
 returned to her glazing eyes. 
 
 '- Who speaks ?" she gasped, while her thin 
 hands were tremulously clasped together with 
 emotion. 
 
 '' 'Tis I, mother. Philip, your son." 
 
 " Philip, my son !" and the nerveless form, 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 033 
 
 tliat had scarce moved for years, was raised upon 
 the bed by the hist yearning effort of a mother's 
 love. 
 
 " Is it you, Philip, is it yon, indeed ? I can 
 scarce see your form, but surely I liave heard 
 the voice of my boy — my long absent boy. Oh ! 
 Philip ! why have I not heard it oftener to com- 
 fort my old age ?" 
 
 " I am dying, mother. I have been a bad 
 son and a guilty man. But I am dying, mother. 
 Oh ! I am punished for my sin ! The avenging 
 bullet struck me dov/n at the gate of the lionie 
 I had deserted — the home 1 have made desolate 
 to you. Mother, I have crawled here to die." 
 
 "To die! O God! your hand is cold — or is 
 it but the chill of death upon my own ? Oh ! 
 I had thought to have said farewell to earth 
 forever, but yet let me linger but a little while, 
 O Lord ! if but to bless my son." She sank 
 exhausted upon the ])illow, but yet clasped the 
 gory fingers of the dying man. 
 
 "Philip, are you there? Let me hear your 
 voice. I hear strange murmurs afar off; but 
 not the voice of my son. Are you there, Philip, 
 are you there ?" 
 
234 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 Philip Searle was crouching lower and lower 
 by the bed-side, and his forehead, upon which the 
 dews of death were starting, lay languidly beside 
 the thin, white locks that rested on the pillow. 
 
 " Look, mother !" he said, raising his head and 
 glaring into the corner of the room. '' Do you 
 see that form in white ? — there — she with the 
 pale cheeks and golden hair! I saw her once 
 before to-day, when she lay stretched upon the 
 bed, with a lily in her white fingers. ' And once 
 again I saw her in that last desperate charge, 
 when the bullet struck my side. And now 
 she is there again, pale, motionless, but smil- 
 ing. Does she smile in mockery or forgive- 
 ness ? I could rather bear a frown than that 
 terrible — that frozen smile. O God ! she is 
 coming to me, mother, she is coming to me — 
 she will lay her cold hand upon me. Ko — it 
 is not she ! it is Moll — look, mother, it is Moll, 
 all blackened with smoke and seared with living 
 fire. O God! how terrible! But, mother, I 
 did not do that. When I saw the flames afar 
 off, I shuddered, for 1 knew how it must be. But 
 I did not do it, Moll, by my lost soul, I did not !" 
 He started to his feet with a convulsive effort. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 235 
 
 The hot blood spurted from liis Avouiid with the 
 exertion and spattered upon the face and breast 
 of his mother— but she felt it not, for she was 
 dead. Tlie last glimmering ray of reason seemed 
 to drive away the phantoms. He turned toward 
 those sharp and withered features, he saw the 
 fallen jaw and lustreless glazed eye. A shudder 
 shook his frame at every point, and with a groan 
 of pain and terror, lie fell forward upon the 
 corpse — a corpse himself. 
 
286 FORT LAJAYETTE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XXni. 
 
 The Federal troops, with successive cliarges, 
 had now pushed the enemy from their first posi- 
 tion, and the torn battalions were still being 
 hurled asiainst the batteries that swept their 
 ranks. The excellent generalship of the Confe- 
 derate leaders availed itself of the valor and 
 impetuosity of their assailants to lure them, by 
 consecutive advance and backward movement, 
 into the deadly range of their well planted guns. 
 It was then that, far to the riglit, a heavy column 
 could be seen moving rapidly in the rear of the 
 contending hosts. Was it a part of Hunter's 
 division that had turned the enemy's rear ? 
 Such was the thouglit at first, and with the 
 delusion triumphant cheers rang from the parched 
 throats of the weary Federals. They were soon 
 to be undeceived. The stars and bars flaunted 
 amid those advancing ranks, and the constant 
 yells of the Confederates proclaimed the truth. 
 Johnston was pouring his fresh troops upon the 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 237 
 
 battle-field. The field was lost, but still was 
 struggled for in the faco of hope. It was now 
 late in the afternoon, and the soldiers, exhausted 
 with their desperate exertions, fought on, dog- 
 gedly, but without that fiery spirit which earlier 
 in the day had urged them to the cannon's 
 mouth. There was a lull in the storm of car- 
 nage, the brief pause that precedes the last 
 terrific fury of the tempest. Tlie Confederates 
 were concentrating their energies for a decisive 
 effort. It came. From the woods that skirted 
 the left centre of their position, a squadron of 
 horsemen came thundering down uj)on our 
 columns. Right down upon Carlisle's battery 
 they rode, slashing the cannoneers and capturing 
 the guns. Then followed their rushing ranks 
 of infantry, and full upon our flank swooped 
 down another troop of cavalry, dashing into the 
 road wliere the baggage-train had been incau- 
 tiously advanced. Our tired and broken regi- 
 ments were scattered to the right and left. In 
 vain a few devoted ofiicers spurred among them, 
 and called on them to lally; they broke from 
 the ranks in every quarter of the field, and 
 rushed madly up the hillsides and into the shel- 
 
238 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 ter of the trees. The magnificent army tliat liad 
 hailed the rising sun with hopes of victory was 
 soon pouring along the road in inextricable con- 
 fusion and disorderly retreat. Foot soldier and 
 horseman, field -piece and wagon, caisson and 
 ambulance, teamster and cannoneer, all were 
 mingled together and rushing backward from 
 the field they had half won, with their backs to 
 the pursuing foe. That rout has been traced, 
 to our shame, in history ; the pen of the novel- 
 ist shuns the disgraceful theme. 
 
 Harold, although faint with loss of blood, 
 which oozed from a flesh-wound in his shoulder, 
 was among the gallant few who strove to stem 
 the ebbing current; struck at last by a spent 
 ball in the temple, he fell senseless to lie 
 ground. He would have been trampled upon 
 and crushed by the retreating column, had not a 
 friendly hand dragged him from the road to a 
 little mound over which spread the branches of 
 an oak. Here he was found an hour afterward 
 by a body of Confederate troops and lifted into 
 an ambulance with others wounded and bleed- 
 ing like himself. 
 
 While the vehicle, with its melancholy freight. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 239 
 
 was being slowly trailed over the scene of the 
 late battle, Harold partially recovered his be- 
 numbed senses. He lay there as in a dream, 
 striving to recall himself to consciousness of his 
 position. He felt the dull throbbing pain upon 
 his brow and the stinging sensation in his shoul- 
 der, and knew that he was wounded, but whe- 
 ther dangerously or not he could not judge. 
 He could feel the trickling of blood from the 
 bosom of a wounded comrade at his side, and 
 could hear the groans of another whose thigh 
 was shattered by the fragment of a shell ; but 
 the situation brought no feeling of repugnance, 
 for he was yet half stunned and lay as in a 
 lethargy, wishing only to drain one draught of 
 water and then to sleep. The monotonous rum- 
 bling of the ambulance wheels sounded distinctly 
 upon his ear, and he could listen, with a kind of 
 objectless curiosity, to the casual conversation 
 of the driver, as he exchanged words here and 
 there with others, who were returning upon the 
 same dismal errand from the scene of carnage. 
 The shadows of night spread around him, cover- 
 ing the field of battle like a pall flung in charity 
 by nature over the corpses of the slain. Tlien 
 
240 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 his bewildered fancies darkened with the sur- 
 rounding gloom, and he thought that he was 
 coffined and in a hearse, being dragged to the 
 graveyard to be buried. He put forth his hand 
 to push the coffin lid, but it fell again with 
 weakness, and when his fingers came in contact 
 with the splintered bone that protruded from 
 his neighbor's thigh, and he felt the warm gush- 
 ing of the blood that welled with each throb of 
 the hastily bound artery, he puzzled his dreamy 
 thoughts to know what it might mean. At last 
 all became a blank upon his brain, and he 
 relapsed once more into unconsciousness. 
 
 And so, from dreamy wakefulness to total 
 oblivion he passed to and fro, without an inter- 
 val to part the real from the unreal. He was 
 conscious of being lifted into the arms of men, 
 and being borne along carefully by strong arms. 
 Whither? It seemed to his dull senses that they 
 were bearing him into a sepulchre, but he was 
 not terrified, but careless and resigned ; or if he 
 thought of it at all, it was to rejoice that w^hen 
 laid there, he should be undisturbed. Presently 
 a vague fancy passed athwart his mind, that per- 
 haps the crawling worms would annoy him, and 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION 241 
 
 lie felt uneasy, but yet not afraid. Aftenvard, 
 there was a sensation of quiet and relief, and his 
 brain, for a space, was in repose. Then a bright 
 form bent over him, and he thought it was an 
 angel. He could feel a soft hand brushing the 
 dampness from his brow, and fingers, whose light 
 touch soothed him, parting his clotted hair. 
 The features grew more distinct, and it pleased 
 him to look upon them, although he strove in 
 vain to ^x them in his memory, until a tear-drop 
 fell upon his cheek, and recalled his wandering 
 senses ; then he knew that Oriana was bending 
 over him and weeping. 
 
 He was in the cottage where Beverly had last 
 parted from his sister ; not in the same room, 
 for they feared to place him there, where 
 Miranda was lying in a shroud, with a coffin 
 by her bed-side, lest the sad spectacle should 
 disturb him when he woke. But he lay upon a 
 comfortable bed in another room, and Beverly 
 and Oriana stood beside, while the surgeon 
 dressed his wounds. 
 
 11 
 
242 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTEE XXIY. 
 
 No need to say that Harold was well cared 
 for by his two friendly foes. Beverly had given 
 his personal parole for his safe keeping, and he 
 was therefore free from all surveillance or annoy- 
 ance on that score. His wounds were not seri- 
 ous, although the contusion on the temple, 
 which, however, had left the skull uninjured, 
 occasioned some uneasiness at first. But the 
 third day he was able to leave his bed, and with 
 his arm in a sling, sat comfortably in an easy- 
 chair, and conversed freely with his two excel- 
 lent nurses. 
 
 " Did Beverly tell you of Arthur's imprison- 
 ment ?" he asked of Oriana, breaking a pause in 
 the general conversation. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, looking down, with a 
 scarcely perceptible blush upon her cheek. 
 " Poor Arthur ! Yours is a cruel government, 
 Harold, that would make traitors of such men. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 243 
 
 His noble heart would not harbor a dangerous 
 thought, much less a traitorous design." 
 
 '' I think with you," said Harold. " There is 
 some strange mistake, which we must fathom. 
 I received his letter only the day preceding the 
 battle. Had there been no immediate prospect 
 of an engagement, I would have asked a fur- 
 lough, and have answered it in person. I have 
 small reason to regret my own imprisonment," he 
 added, " my jailers are so kind ; yet I do regret 
 it for his sake." 
 
 " You know that we are powerless to help 
 him," said Beverly, "or even to shorten your 
 captivity, since your government will not ex- 
 change witli us. However, you must write, 
 both to Arthur and to Mr. Lincoln, and I will 
 use my best interest with the general to have 
 your letters sent on with a flag." 
 
 " I know that you will do all in your power, 
 and I trust that my representations may avail 
 witli the government, for I judge from Arthur's 
 letter that he is not well, although he makes no 
 complaint. He is but delicate at the best, and 
 what with the effects of his late injuries, I fear 
 that the restraint of a prison may go ill with him." 
 
244 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 " How unnatural is this strife that makes us 
 sorrow for our foes no less than for our friends ?" 
 said Oriana. " I seem to be living in a strange 
 clime, and in an age that has passed awaj. And 
 how long can friendship endure this fiery- 
 ordeal ? How many scenes of carnage like this 
 last terrible one can afflict the land, witliout wip- 
 ing away all trace of brotherhood, and leaving in 
 the void the seed of deadly hate ?" 
 
 " If this repulse," said Beverly, " which your 
 arms have suffered so early in the contest, will 
 awaken the l^orth to a sense of the utter futility 
 of their design of subjugation, the blood that 
 flowed at Manassas will not have been shed in 
 vain." 
 
 " ^o, not in vain," replied Harold, " but its 
 fruits will be other than you anticipate. The 
 l^orth will be awakened, but only to gird up its 
 loins and put forth its giant strength. The 
 shame of that one defeat will be worth to us 
 hereafter a hundred victories. The Korth has 
 has been smitten in its sleep ; it will arouse from 
 its lethargy like a lion awakening under the 
 smart of the hunter's spear. Beverly, base no 
 vain hopes upon the triumph of the hour ; it 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. v45 
 
 seals your doom, for it serves but to throw into 
 the scale against you the aroused energies that 
 till now have been withheld." 
 
 " You count upon your resources, Harold, like 
 a purse-proud millionaire, who boasts his burst- 
 ing coffers. AYe depend rather upon our deter- 
 mined hearts and resolute right hands. Upon 
 our power to endure, greater than yours to 
 inflict, reverse. Upon our united people, and 
 the spirit that animates them, which can never 
 be subdued. The naked Britons could defend their 
 native soil against Caesar's legions, the veterans 
 of a hundred fights. Shall we do less, who have 
 already tasted the fruits of liberty so dearly 
 earned ? Harold, your people have assumed an 
 impossible task, and you ma^ as well go cast 
 your treasures into the sea as squander them in 
 arms to smite your kith and kin. We are 
 Americans, like yourselves ; and when you con- 
 fess that you can be conquered by invading 
 armies, then dream of conquering us." 
 
 " And we will startle you from your dream 
 with the crack of our Southern rifles," added 
 Oriana, somewhat maliciously, while Harold 
 smiled at her enthusiasm. 
 
216 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 ^' There is a great deal of romance in both 
 jour natures," he rej)lied. "But it is not so 
 good as powder for a fighting medium. The 
 spirit yon boast of will not support you long 
 without the aid of good round dollars." 
 
 " Thank heaven we have less faith in their 
 efficacy than you Northern gold-worshippers," 
 observed Oriana, with playful sarcasm. "While 
 our soldiers have good round corn-cakes, they 
 will ask for no richer metals than lead and 
 steel. Have you never heard of the regi- 
 ment of Mississippians, who, liaving received 
 their pay in government certificates, to a man 
 tore up the documents as they took up the 
 line of march, saying 'we do not fight for 
 money V " • 
 
 Harold smiled, thinking perhaps that nothing 
 better could have been done with the currency 
 in question. 
 
 " I think," said Beverly, " you are far out of 
 the way in your estimate of our resources. The 
 South is strictly an agricultural country, and as 
 such, best able to support itself under the ex- 
 haustion consequent upon a lengthened warfare, 
 esj^ecially as it will remain in the attitude of re- 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 247 
 
 sistance to invasion. From the bosom of its pro- 
 lific soil it can draw its natural nourisliment and 
 retain its vigor throiigliout any period of isolation, 
 while you are draining your resources for the 
 means of providing an active aggressive warfare. 
 The rallying of our white population to the battle 
 field will not interrupt the course of agricultural 
 pursuit, while every enlistment in the North will 
 take one man away from the tillage of the land 
 or from some industrial avocation." 
 
 " Kot so," replied Harold. " Our armies for 
 the most part will be recruited from the surplus 
 population, and abundant hands will remain 
 behind for the purposes of industry." 
 
 " At first, perhaps. But not after a few more 
 such fields as were fought on Sunday last. To 
 carry out even a show of your project of subju- 
 gation, you must keep a million of men in the 
 field from year to year. Your manufacturing 
 interests will be paralyzed, your best customers 
 shut out. You will be spending enormously and 
 producing little beyond the necessities of con- 
 sumption. We, on the contrary, will be pro- 
 ducing as usual, and spending little more than 
 before." 
 
248 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 " Can jour armies be fed, clotlied, and 
 equipped Avitliout expense ?" 
 
 " 'No. But all our means will be ap2:)lied to 
 military uses, and our operations will be neces- 
 sarily mucli less expensive tlian yours. In other 
 matters, we will forget our habits of extrr.va- 
 gance. We will become, by the law of necessity, 
 economists in place of spendthrifts. We will 
 gather in rich harvests, but will stint ourselves 
 to the bare necessities of life, that our troops 
 anay be fed and clothed. Tlie money that our 
 wealthy planters have been in the liabit of 
 spending yearly in jSTorthern cities and vratering 
 places, will be circulated at home. Some fifty 
 millions of Southern dollars, heretofore annually 
 wasted in fashionable dissipation, will thus be 
 kept in our own pockets and out of yours. The 
 spendthrift sons of our planters, and their yet 
 more extravagant daugliters, will be found 
 studying economy in the rude school of the 
 soldier, and plying the needle to supply tlie 
 soldiers' wants, in place of drawing upon the 
 paternal estates for frivolous enjoyments. Our 
 spending population will be on the battle-field, 
 and the laborer will remain in tiie cotton and 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 249 
 
 corn-field. There will be snfFering and priva- 
 tion, it is true, but rest assured, Harold, we will 
 bear it all without a murmur, as our fathers did 
 in the days of '76. And we will trust to the 
 good old soil we are defending to give us our 
 daily bread." 
 
 " Or if it should not," said Oriana, " we can at 
 least claim from it, each one, a grave, over which 
 the foot of the invader may trample, but not over 
 our living bodies." 
 
 ''I have no power to convince you of your 
 error," answered Harold. " Let us speak of it 
 no more, since it is destined that the sword must 
 decide between us. Beverly, you promised that 
 I should go visit my wounded comrade's, who 
 have not yet been removed. Shall we go now ? 
 I think it would do me good to breathe the 
 air." 
 
 They prepared for the charitable errand, and 
 Oriana went with them, with a little basket of 
 delicacies for the suffering prisoners. 
 
 ir 
 
250 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTEE XXV. 
 
 It was a fair morning in August, the twentieth 
 day after the eventful 21st of July. Beverly was 
 busy with his military duties, and Harold, who 
 had already fully recovered from his wounds, 
 was enjoying, in company with Oriana, a plea- 
 sant canter over the neighboring country. They 
 came to where the rolling meadow subsided into 
 a level plain of considerable extent on either side 
 of the road. At its verge a thick forest formed 
 a dark background, beyond which the peering 
 summits of green hills showed that the land- 
 scape was rugged and uneven. Oriana slack- 
 ened her pace, and pointed out over the broad 
 expanse of level country. 
 
 " You see this plain that stretches to our right 
 and left?" 
 
 " Of course I do," replied Harold. 
 
 " Yes ; but I want you to mark it well," she 
 continued, with a significant glance; "and also 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 251 
 
 that stretch of woodland yonder, beyond which, 
 you see, the country rises again." 
 
 " Yes, a wild country, I should judge, like that 
 to the left, wdiere we fought your batteries a 
 month ago." 
 
 "It is, indeed, a wild country as you say. 
 There are ravines there, and deep glens, fringed 
 with almost impenetrable shrubbery, and deep 
 down in these recesses flows many a winding 
 water-course, lined and overarched with twisted 
 foliage. Are you skillful at threading a wood- 
 land labyrinth ?" 
 
 ^' Yes; my surveying expeditions have schooled 
 me pretty well. Why do you ask ? Do you 
 want me to guide you through the wilderness, in 
 search of a hermit's cave." 
 
 "Perhaps; women have all manner of ca- 
 prices, you know. But I want you to pay atten- 
 tion to those landmarks. Over yonder, there are 
 some nooks that would do well to hide a run- 
 away. I have explored some of them myself, for 
 I passed some months here formerly, before the 
 war. Poor Miranda's family resided once in the 
 little cottage where we are stopping now. That 
 is why I came from Richmond to spend a few 
 
252 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 days and be with Beverly. I little tliouglit tliat 
 my coming would bring me to Miranda's deatli- 
 bed. Look there, now : yon have a better view 
 of where the forest ascends into the hilly 
 ground." 
 
 " Why are you so topographical to-day ? One 
 would think you were tempting me to run 
 away," said Harold, smiling, as he followed her 
 pointing finger with his eyes. 
 
 " Xo ; I know you would not do that, because 
 Beverly, you know, has pledged himself for your 
 safe-keeping. 
 
 " Yery true ; and I am therefore a closer pris- 
 oner than if I were loaded down with chains. 
 When do you return to Bichmond ?" 
 
 "I shall return on the day after to-morrow. 
 Beverly has been charged with an important 
 service, and will be absent for several weeks. 
 But he can procure your parole, if you wish, and 
 you can come to the old manor-house again." 
 
 "I think I shall not accept parole," replied 
 Harold, thoughtfully. "I must escape, if possi- 
 ble, for Arthur's sake. Beverly, of course, will 
 release himself from all obligations about me, 
 before he goes ?" 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 253 
 
 ^Yes, to-moiTow; but you will be strictly 
 guarded, unless you give parole. See here, I 
 have a little present for you; it is not very 
 pretty, but it is useful. " 
 
 She handed him a small pocket-compass, set 
 in a brass case. 
 
 '' You can have this too," she added, drawing 
 a small but strong and sharp poignard from her 
 bosom. "But you must promise me never to 
 use it except to save your life ?" 
 
 " I will promise that cheerfully," said Harold, 
 as he received the precious gifts. 
 
 " To-morrow we will ride out again. We will 
 have the same horses that bear us so bravely 
 now. Do you note how strong and well-bred is 
 the noble animal you ride ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Harold, patting the glorious arch 
 of his steed's neck. " He's a fine fellow, and 
 fleet, I warrant." 
 
 "Fleet as the winds. Tliere are few in this 
 neighborhood that can match him. Let us go 
 home now. You need not tell Beverly that I 
 have given you presents. And be ready to ride 
 to-morrow at four o'clock j)recisely." 
 
 He understood her thorou2:hly, and they can- 
 
254: FORT LIFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 tered homeward, conversing upon indifferent 
 subjects and reverting no further to their pre- 
 vious somewhat enigmatical theme. 
 
 On the following afternoon, at four o'clock 
 precisely, the horses were at the door, and five 
 minutes afterward a mounted officer, followed by- 
 two troopers, galloped up the lane and drew rein 
 at the gateway. 
 
 Harold was arranging the girths of Oriana's 
 saddle, and she herself was standing in her rid- 
 ing-habit beside the porch. The officer, dis- 
 mounting, approached her and raised his cap in 
 respectful salute. He was young and well- 
 looking, evidently one accustomed to polite 
 society. 
 
 " Good afternoon, Captain Haralson," said 
 Oriana, with her most gracious smile. " I am 
 very glad to see you, although, as you bring 
 your military escort, I presume you come to see 
 Beverly upon business, and not for the friendly 
 visit you promised me. But Beverly is not 
 here." 
 
 " I left him at the camp on duty, Miss 
 Weems," replied the captain. "It is my mis- 
 fortune that mv own duties have been too strict 
 
LOVE AND SECESSIOX. 255 
 
 of late to permit me the pleasure of my contem- 
 plated visit." 
 
 '' I must bide my time, captain. Let me 
 introduce my friend, Captain Hare, our prisoner, 
 Mr. Haralson ; but I know you will help me to 
 make him forget it, when I tell you that he was 
 my brother's schoolmate and is our old and val- 
 ued friend;" 
 
 The young officer took Harold frankly by the 
 hand, but he looked grave and somewhat discon- 
 certed as he answered : 
 
 " Captain Hare, as a soldier, will forgive me 
 that my duty compels me to play a most ungra- 
 cious part upon our first acquaintance. I have 
 orders to return with him to headquarters, where 
 I trust his acceptance of parole will enable me 
 to avail myself of your introduction to show 
 him what courtesy our camp life admits, in atone- 
 ment for the execution of my present unpleasant 
 
 devoir." 
 
 " I shall esteem your acquaintance the 
 more highly," answered Harold, "that you 
 know so well to blend your soldiersliip with 
 kindness. I am entirely at your disposition, 
 sir, having only to apologize to Miss Weems 
 
256 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 for the deprivation of her contemplated 
 ride." 
 
 '' Oil, no, we must not lose our ride," said 
 Oriana. " It is perhaps the last we shall enjoy 
 together, and such a lovely afternoon. I am 
 sure that Captain Haralson is too gallant to 
 interrupt our excursion." 
 
 She turned to him with an arch smile, but he 
 looked serious as he replied : 
 
 " Alas ! Miss Weems, our gallantry receives 
 some rude rebuffs in the harsh school of the sol- 
 dier. It grieves me to mar your harmless recre- 
 ation, but even that mortilication I must endure 
 when it comes in the strict line of my duty." 
 
 " But your duty does not forbid you to take a 
 canter with us this charmins^ afternoon. ITow 
 put away tliat mihtary sternness, which does not 
 become you at all, and help me to mount my 
 pretty l^elly, who is getting impatient to be off. 
 And so am I. Come, you will get into camp in 
 due season, for we will go only as far as the 
 Run, and canter all the way." 
 
 She took his arm, and he assisted her to the 
 saddle, won into acquiescence by her graceful 
 obstinacy, and, in fact, seeing but little harm 
 
LOVE ANT) SECESSIOX. 257 
 
 ill the slight departiu'e from tlie strict perform- 
 ance of his errand. Tliey mounted and rode out 
 together, Oriana leading the way, and choosing 
 the path they had followed on the preceding 
 day. 
 
 " Keep ns within sight, but you need not press 
 too closely upon us," said Captain Haralson to 
 the two troopers as he passed. The men fol- 
 lowed the cavalcade, riding far enough in the 
 background to avoid the appearance of being 
 an armed escort. 
 
 The afternoon was truly delightful, and the 
 polite young Southron, too much an admirer of 
 beauty to fail of appreciating the opportunity of 
 caracolling by the side of so charming a horse- 
 woman as Oriana, soon lost all sense of uneasi- 
 ness in the pleasure he derived from her com- 
 pany and conversation. Harold at first was 
 taciturn, but his reserve soon gave way before 
 the inevitable exhilaration produced by the com- 
 bined influences of bracing air, exercise, good 
 company, and lovely scenery. 
 
 " Do you think we will let you ISTortlierners 
 drive us from such scenery as tliat ?" said Oriana, 
 good naturedly, pointing witii her whip to where 
 
258 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 the tufted hills rolled into one another like the 
 waves of a swelling sea, their crests tipped with 
 the slant rays of the descending sun, and their 
 graceful slopes alternating among pm-ple sha- 
 dows and gleams of floating light. 
 
 " It is indeed so beautiful," answered Harold, 
 ^' that I should deem you might be content to 
 live there as of old, without inviting the terrible 
 companionship of Mars." 
 
 " We do not invite it," said the young captain. 
 *• Leave us in peaceful possession of our own, 
 and no war cries shall echo among those hills. 
 If Mars has driven his chariot into our homes, 
 he comes at your bidding, an unwelcome 
 intruder, to be scourged back again." 
 
 " At our bidding ! Xo. The first gun that 
 was fired at Sumter summoned him, and if he 
 should leave his foot-prints deep in your soil, 
 you have well earned the penalty." 
 
 " It will cost you, to inflict it, many such 
 another day's work as that at Manassas a month 
 ago." 
 
 The taunt was spoken hastily, and the young 
 Southron colored as if ashamed of his discour- 
 tesv, and added : 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 259 
 
 " Forgive me my ungracious speech. It was my 
 first field, sir, and I am wont to speak of it too 
 boastingly. I shall become more modest, I hope, 
 when I shall have abetter riglit to be a boaster." 
 
 " Oh," replied Harold, " I admit the sliame of 
 our discomfiture, and take it as a good lesson to 
 our negligence and want of purpose. But all 
 tliat has passed ^way. One good whipping has 
 awakened us to an understanding of the work 
 we have in hand. Henceforth we will apply 
 ourselves to the task in earnest." 
 
 " You think, then, that your gf)vernment will 
 prosecute the war more vigorously than before ?" 
 
 " Undoubtedly. You have heard but the pre- 
 lude of a gale that shall sweep every vestige of 
 treason from the land." 
 
 " Let it blow on," said the Southron, proudly. 
 " There will be counter-blasts to meet it. You 
 cannot raise a tempest that will make us bow 
 our heads." 
 
 " Do you not think," interrupted Oriana, 
 "that a large proportion of your ]N"orthern popu- 
 lation are ready at least to listen to terms of 
 separation ?" 
 
 " No," replied Harold, firmly. " Or if there be 
 
260 FORT LAi\iYETTE; OR, 
 
 any wlio entertain sucli tliouglits, we will make 
 them outcasts among us, and the finger of scorn 
 ^-ill be pointed at them as recreant to their 
 holiest duty." 
 
 " Tnat is hardly fair," said Oriana. " Why 
 should you scorn or maltreat those who honestly 
 believe that the doctrine in support of which so 
 many are ready to stake their lives and their 
 fortunes, may be worthy of consideration i Do 
 you believe us all mad and wicked people in 
 the South — people without hearts, and without 
 brains, incapalile of forming an opinion that is 
 worth an arofument ? If there are some amons: 
 you who think we are acting for the best, and 
 Heaven knows we are acting with sincerity, you 
 should give them at least a hearing, for the 
 sake of liberty of conscience. Remember, there 
 are millions of us united in sentiment in the 
 South, and millions, perhaps, abroad who think 
 with us. How can you decide by your mere 
 impulses where the i-ight lies ?" 
 
 '' TTe decide by the promptings of our loyal 
 hearts, and by our reason, which tells us that 
 secession is treason, and that treason must be 
 crushed." 
 
LOVE AXD SECESSION. 261 
 
 " Heart and brain have been mistaken ere 
 now," returned Oriana. " But if you are a type 
 of your countrymen, I see that hard blows alone 
 will teach you that God has given us the right 
 to think for ourselves." 
 
 " Do you believe, then," asked Haralson, " that 
 there can be no peace between us until one side 
 or the other shall be exhausted and subdued ?" 
 
 "l^ot so," replied Harold. "I think that 
 when we have retrieved the disgrace of Bull 
 Run and given you in addition, some whole- 
 some chastisement, your better judgment 
 will return to you, and you will accept for- 
 giveness at our hands and return to your alle- 
 giance." 
 
 " You are mistaken," said the Southron. 
 " Even were we ready to accept your terms, 
 you would not be ready to grant them. Should 
 the IN'orth succeed in striking some heavy blow at 
 the South, I will tell you what will happen ; your 
 abolitionists will seize the occasion of the peo- 
 ples' exultation to push their doctrine to a con- 
 summation. Whenever you shall hear the tocsin 
 of victory sounding in the !N'orth, then listen for 
 the echoing cry of emancipation — for you will 
 
262 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 hear it. You will see it in every column of 
 your daily prints ; you will hear your statesmen 
 urging it in your legislative halls, and your 
 cabinet ministers making it tlieir theme. And, 
 most dangerous of all, you will hear your gene- 
 rals and colonels, demagogues at heart, and 
 soldiers only of occasion, preaching it to their 
 battalions, and making converts of their subor- 
 dinates by the mere influences of their rank and 
 calling. And when your military chieftains 
 harangue their soldiers upon political themes, 
 think not of our treason, as you call it, but look 
 well to the political freedom that is still your 
 own. With five hundred thonsand armed pup- 
 pets, moving at the will of a clique of ambitious 
 epauletted politicians and experimentalists, you 
 may live to witness, whether we be sub- 
 dued or not, a coup d^etat for which there 
 is a precedent not far back in the annals of 
 republics." 
 
 "Have you already learned to contemplate 
 the danger that you are incurring? Do you at 
 last fear the monster that you have nursed and 
 strengthened in your midst ? Well, if your 
 slaves should rise against you, sm'ely you 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 263 
 
 cannot blame us for the evil of your own crea- 
 tion." 
 
 "It is the hope of your abolitionists, not our 
 fear, that I am rehearsing. Should your armies 
 obtain a foothold on our soil, we know that you 
 will put knives and guns into the hands of our 
 slaves, and incite them to emulate the deeds of 
 their race in San Domingo. You will parcel 
 out our lands and wealth to your victorious 
 soldiery, not so much as a reward for their past 
 services, but to seal the bond between them and 
 the government that will seek to rule by their 
 bayonets. You see, we know the peril and are 
 prepared to meet it. Should you conquer us, at 
 the same time you would conquer the liberties of 
 the ^N'orthern citizen. You will be at the mercy 
 of the successful general whose triumph may 
 make him the idol of the armed millions that 
 alone can accomplish our subjugation. In the 
 South, butchery and rapine by hordes of des- 
 perate negroes — in the l^orth anarchy and polit- 
 ical intrigue, to be merged into dictatorship 
 and the absolutism of military power. Such 
 would be the results of your triumph and our 
 defeat." 
 
264 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 '^Tliose are the visions of a heated brain," 
 said Harold. " I mnst confess that your fighting 
 is better than your logic. There is no clanger to 
 our country that the loyalty of its people cannot 
 overcome — as it will vour rebellion." 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 265 
 
 CHAPTEE XXYL 
 
 They bad now approached the edge of the 
 plain which Oriana had ]3ointed out on the pre- 
 ceding day. The sun, which had been tinging 
 the western sky with gorgeous hues,, was peering 
 from among masses of pui-ple and golden clouds, 
 within an hour's space of the horizon. Captain 
 Haralson, interested and excited by his disputa- 
 tion, had been riding leisurely along by the side 
 of his prisoner, taking but little note of the route 
 or of the lapse of time. 
 
 " Cease your unprofitable argument," cried 
 Oriana, " and let us have a race over this beauti- 
 ful plain. Look ! 'tis as smooth as a race-course, 
 and I will lay you a wager. Captain Haralson, 
 that my Kelly will lead you to yonder clump, by 
 a neck." 
 
 She touched her horse lightly with the whip, 
 and turned from the road into the meadows. 
 
 " It is late, Miss Weems," said the Southron, 
 " and I must report at headquarters before sun- 
 12 
 
^e FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 down. Besides, I am badly mounted, and it 
 would be but a sorry victory to distance me. I 
 pray you, let us return." 
 
 '' Nonsense ! Nelly is not breathed. I must 
 liave one fair run over this field; and, gentle- 
 men, I challenge you both to outstrip Nelly if 
 you can." 
 
 "With a merry shout, she struck the fleet mare 
 smartly on the flank, and the spirited animal, 
 more at the sound of her voice than aroused by 
 the whip-lash, stretched forward her neck and 
 sprang over the tufted level. Harold waved his 
 hand, as if in invitation, to his companion, and 
 was soon urging his powerful horse in the same 
 direction. Haralson shouted to them to stop, 
 but they only turned their heads and beckoned 
 to him gaily, and plunging the spurs into the 
 strong but heavy-hoofed charger that he rode, he 
 followed them as best he could. He kept close 
 in their rear very well at first, but he soon 
 observed that he was losing distance, and that 
 the two swift steeds in front, that had been held 
 in check a little at the start, were now skimming 
 the smooth meadow at a tremendous pace. 
 
 " Halt !" he cried, at the top of his lungs ; but 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 
 
 267 
 
 either thej heard it not or heeded it not, for they 
 still swept on, bending low forward in the saddle, 
 almost side bj side. 
 
 A vagne suspicion crossed his mind. 
 
 "Halt, there!" 
 
 Oriana glanced over her shoulder, and could 
 see a sunraj gleaming from something that he 
 held in his right hand. He had drawn a pistol 
 from his holster. She slackened her pace a little, 
 and allowing Harold to take the lead, rode on in 
 the line between him and the pursuer. Harold 
 turned in his saddle. She could hear the tones 
 of his voice rushing past her on the wind. 
 
 "Come no further with me, lest suspicion 
 attach to yourself. The good horse will bear me 
 beyond pursuit. Eemember, it is for Arthur's 
 sake I have consented you should make this 
 sacrifice. God bless you ! and farewell !" 
 
 A pistol-shot resounded in the air. Oriana 
 knew it was fired but to intimidate — the distance 
 was too great to give the leaden messenger a 
 deadlier errand. Yet she drew rein, and waited, 
 breathless with excitement and swift motion, till 
 Haralson came np. He turned one reproachful 
 glance upon her as he passed, and spurred on in 
 
26S FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 pui-suit. Harold turned once again, to assure 
 himself that she was unhurt, then waved his 
 hand, and urging his swift steed to the utmost, 
 sped on toward the forest which was now close 
 at hand. The two troopers soon came galloping 
 up to where Oriana still sat motionless upon her 
 saddle, watching the race with strained eyes and 
 heaving bosom. 
 
 " Your prisoner has escaped," she said ; " spur 
 on in pursuit." 
 
 She knew that it was of no avail, for Harold 
 had already disappeared among the mazes of the 
 wood, and the sun was just dipping below the 
 horizon. Darkness would soon shroud the fugi- 
 tive in its friendly mantle. She turned J^elly's 
 head homeward, and cantered silently away in 
 the gathering twilight. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 269 
 
 CHAPTER XXYII. 
 
 When Captain Haralson and the two troopers 
 reached the verge of the forest, they could trace 
 for a short distance the hoof-prints of Harold's 
 horse, and followed them eagerly among the 
 labyrinthine paths which the fugitive had made 
 through the tangled shrubbery and among the 
 briery thickets. But soon the gloom of night 
 closed in upon them in the depth of the silent 
 wood, and they were left without a sign by 
 w^hich to direct the pursuit. It was near mid- 
 night when they reached the fm-ther edge of the 
 forest, and there, throwing fantastic gleams of 
 red light among the shadows of the tall trees, 
 they caught sight of what seemed to be the 
 glimmer of a watchfire. Soon after, the growl 
 of a hound was heard, followed by a deep- 
 mouthed bay, and approaching cautiously, they 
 were hailed by the watchful sentinel. It was a 
 Confederate picket, posted on the outskirt of the 
 
270 ^ORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 forest, and Haralson, making himself known, 
 rode np to where the party, awakened by their 
 approach, had roused themselves from their 
 blankets, and were standing with ready rifles 
 beside the blazing fagots. 
 
 Haralson made known his errand to tlie officer 
 in command, and the sentries were questioned, 
 but all declared that nothing had disturbed their 
 watch ; if the fugitive had passed their line, he 
 had succeeded in eluding their vigilance. 
 
 " I must send one of my men back to camp to 
 report the escape," said Haralson, " and will ask 
 you to spare me a couple of your fellows to help 
 me hunt the Yankee down. Confound him, I 
 deserve to lose my epaulettes for my folly, but I'll 
 follow him to the Potomac, rather than return to 
 headquarters without him." 
 
 " Who was it ?" asked the officer ; " was he 
 of rank?" 
 
 " A captain. Captain Hare, well named for his 
 fleetness ; but he was mounted superbly, and I 
 suspect the whole thing was cut and dried." 
 
 " Hare ?" cried a hoarse voice ; and the 
 speaker, a tall, lank man, who had been 
 stretched bv the fire, with the head of a large, 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 271 
 
 gaunt bloodhound in his lap, rose suddenly and 
 stepped forward. 
 
 " Harold Hare, by G— d !" he exclaimed ; " I 
 know the fellow. Captain, I'm with you on this 
 hunt, and Bully there, too, who is worth the pair 
 of us. Hey, Bully?" 
 
 The dog stretched himself lazily, and lifted his 
 heavy lip with a grin above the formidable fangs 
 that glistened in the gleam of the watchfire. 
 
 " You may go," said his officer, " but I can't 
 spare another. You three, with the dog, will be 
 enough. Rawbon's as good a man as you can 
 get, captain. Set a thief to catch a thief, and a 
 Yankee to outwit a Yankee. You'd better 
 start at once, unless you need rest or refresh- 
 ment." 
 
 " IS'othing," replied Haralson. " Let your 
 man put something into his haversack. Good 
 night, lieutenant. Come along, boys, and keep 
 your eyes peeled, for these Yankees are slippery 
 eels, you know." 
 
 Seth Bawbon had already bridled his horse 
 that was grazing hard by, and the party, with 
 the hound close at his master's side, rode forth 
 upon their search. 
 
272 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTEE XXYin. 
 
 Harold bad perceived the watcMre an houi 
 earlier than his pursuers, having obtained thus 
 much the advantage of them bj the fleetness of 
 his steed. He moved well off to the right, 
 riding slowly and cautiously, until another faint 
 glimmer in that direction gave him to under- 
 stand that he was about equi-distant between 
 two pickets of the enemy. He dismounted at 
 the edge of the forest, and securing his steed to 
 the branch of a tree, crept forward a few paces 
 beyond the shelter of the wood, and looked 
 about earnestly in the darkness. ISTothing could 
 be seen but the long, straggling line of the forest 
 losing itself in the gloom, and the black outlines 
 of the hills before him ; but his quick ear 
 detected the sound of coming hoof and the ring- 
 ing of steel scabbards. A patrol was approach- 
 ing, and fearful that his horse, conscious of the 
 neighborhood of his kind, might betray his 
 presence with a sign of recognition, he hurried 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 273 
 
 back, and standing beside tlie animal, caressed 
 his glossy neck and won Lis attention Avitli the 
 low murniurs of his voice. The good steed 
 remained silent, onlj i)ricking up his ears and 
 peering through the branches as the patrol went 
 clattering by. Harold waited till the trampling 
 of hoofs died away in the distance, and judging, 
 from their riding on without a challenge or a 
 pause, that there was no sentry within hail, he 
 mounted and rode boldly out into the open 
 country. The stars were mostly obscured by 
 heavy clouds, but here and there was a patch of 
 clear blue sky, and his eye, practised with many 
 a surveying night-tramp, discovered at last a 
 twinkling guide by which to shape his path in a 
 northerly direction. It was a wild, rough 
 country over which he passed. With slow and 
 careful steps, his sagacious steed moved on, 
 obedient to the rein, at one time topping the 
 crest of a rugged hill, and then winding at a 
 snail's pace down the steep declivity, or follow- 
 ing the tortuous course of the streamlet through 
 deep ravines, whose jagged and bush- clad sides 
 frowned down upon them on either side, deepen- 
 ing the gloom of night. 
 
 12* 
 
274 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 So all through the long hours of darkness, 
 Harold toiled on his lonely way, startled at 
 times by the shriek of the night bird, and 
 listening intently to catch the sign of danger. 
 At last the dawn, welcome although it en- 
 hanced the chances of detection, blushed faintly 
 through the clouded eastern sky, and Harold, 
 through the mists of morning, could see a fair 
 and rolling landscape stretched before him. The 
 sky was overcast, and presently the heavy drops 
 began to fall. Consulting the little friendly 
 compass which Oriana had given him, he pushed 
 on briskly, turning always to the right or left, as 
 the smoke, circling from some early housewife's 
 kitchen, betrayed the dangerous neighborhood"" 
 of a human habitation. 
 
 Crossing a rivulet, he dismounted, and filled a 
 small leathern bottle that he carried with him, 
 his good steed and himself meanwhile satisfying 
 their thirst from the cool wave. His appetite, 
 freshened by exercise, caused him to remember 
 a package which Oriana's forethought had pro- 
 vided for him on the preceding afternoon. He 
 drew it from his pocket, and while his steed 
 clipped the tender herbage from the streamlet's 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 
 
 tiTo 
 
 bank, lie made an excellent breakfast of the 
 corn bread and bacon, and other substantial 
 edibles, which his kind friend had bountifully 
 supplied. Man and horse thus refreshed, he 
 remounted, and rode forward at a gallant pace, 
 the strong animal he bestrode seeming as yet to 
 show no signs of fatigue. 
 
 The rain was now falling in torrents, a propi- 
 tious circumstance, since it lessened the probabi- 
 lities of his encountering the neighboring inhab- 
 itants, most of whom must have sought shelter 
 from the pelting storm. He occasionally came 
 up with a trudging negro, sometimes a group of 
 three or four, who answered timidly whenever 
 he accosted them, and glanced at him askance, 
 but yet gave the iuformation he requested. 
 Once, indeed, he could discern a troop of cavalry 
 plashing along at some distance through the 
 muddy road, but he screened himself in a corn- 
 field, and was unobserved. His watch had been 
 injured in tlie battle, and he had no means, ex- 
 cept conjecture, of judging of the hour ; but 
 by the flagging pace of his horse^ and his ov\u 
 fatigue, he knew that he must have been many 
 hours in the saddle. Surely the Potomac must 
 
276 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 be at hand ! Yet there was no sign of it, and 
 over interminable hill and dale, through corn- 
 fields, and over patches of woodland and mea- 
 dow, the wearj steed was urged on, slipping 
 and sliding in the saturated soil. What was 
 that sound which caused his horse to prick up 
 his ears and quicken his pace with the instinct 
 of danger ? He heard it himself distinctly. It 
 was the baying of a bloodhound. 
 
 " They are on my track !" muttered Harold ; 
 " and unless the river is at hand, I am lost. 
 Forward, sir ! forward, good fellow!" he shouted 
 cheerily to his horse, and the noble animal, 
 snorting and tossing his silken mane, answered 
 with an effort, and broke into a gallop. 
 
 Down one hill into a little valley they pushed 
 on, and up the ascent of another. They 
 reached the crest, and then, thank Heaven ! 
 there was the broad river, windino^ throudi the 
 valley. Dull and leaden hued as it looked, 
 reflecting the clouded sky, he had never hailed 
 it so joyfully when sparkling with sunbeams 
 as he did at the close of that weary day. 
 Yet the danger was not past ; up and down 
 the stream he gazed, and far to the riejht 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 277 
 
 he could distinguish a group of tents peering 
 from among the foliage of a grove, and marking 
 the site of a Confederate battery. But just in 
 front of him was a cheering sight ; an armed 
 schooner swung lazily at anchor in the channel, 
 and the wet bunting that drooped listlessly over 
 her stern, revealed the stars and stripes. 
 
 Tlie full tones of the bloodhound's voice 
 aroused him to the necessity of action ; he 
 turned in the saddle and glanced over the route 
 he had come. On the crest of the hill beyond 
 that on which he stood, the forms of three horse- 
 men were outlined against the greyish sky. 
 They distinguished him at the same moment, for 
 he could hear their shouts of exultation, borne to 
 him on the humid air. 
 
 It was yet a full mile to the river bank, and 
 his horse was almost broken down with fatigue. 
 Dashing his armed heels against the throbbing 
 flanks of the jaded animal, he rushed down the 
 hill in a straight line for the water. The sun 
 was already below the horizon, and darkness 
 was coming on apace. As he pushed on, the 
 shouts of his pursuers rang louder upon his ear 
 at every rod; it was evident that they were 
 
278 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 fresh mounted, \vliile his own steed was labor- 
 ing, with a last effort, over the rugged ground, 
 stumbling among stones, and groaning at inter- 
 vals with the severity of exertion. He could 
 hear the trampling behind him, he could catch 
 the words of triumph that seemed to be shouted 
 almost in his very ear. A bullet whizzed by 
 him, and then another, and with each report 
 there came a derisive cheer. But it was now 
 quite dark, and that, with the rapid motion, ren- 
 dered him comparatively fearless of being struck. 
 He spurred on, straining his eyes to see what was 
 before him, for it seemed that the ground in 
 front became suddenly and curiously lost in 
 the mist and gloom. Just then, simultaneously 
 with the report of a pistol, he felt his good 
 steed quiver beneath him ; a bullet had reached 
 his flank, and the poor animal fell upon his 
 knees and rolled over in the agony of death. 
 
 It was well that he had fallen ; Harold, thrown 
 forward a few feet, touched the earth upon the 
 edge of the rocky bank that descended precipi- 
 tously a hundred feet or more to the river — a 
 few steps further, and horse and rider would 
 have plunged over the verge of the bluff. ■ 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 279 
 
 Harold, though bruised by his fall, was not 
 considerably hurt ; without hesitation, he com- 
 menced the hazardous descent, difficult by day, 
 but perilous and uncertain in the darkness. 
 Clinging to each projecting rock and feeling 
 cantionsly for a foothold among the slippery- 
 ledges, he had accomplished half the distance 
 and could already hear the light plashing of the 
 wave upon the boulders below. He heard a 
 voice above, shouting : " Look out for the bluff 
 there, we must be near it !" 
 
 The warnmg came too late. There was a cry 
 of terror — the blended voice of man and horse, 
 startling the night and causing Harold to crouch 
 with instinctive horror close to the dripping 
 rock. There was a rush of wind and the bound- 
 ing by of a dark whirling body, which rolled 
 over and over, tearing over the sharp angles of 
 the cliff, and scattering the loose fragments of 
 stone over him as he clung motionless to his 
 support. Then there was a dull thump below, 
 and a little afterward a terrible moan, and then 
 all was still. 
 
 Harold continued his descent and reached the 
 base of the bluff in safety. Tlirough the dark- 
 
280 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 ness lie could see a dark mass lying like a sha- 
 dow among tlie pointed stones, with the waves 
 of the river rij)j)ling about it. He approached it. 
 There lay the steed gasping in the last agony, 
 and the rider beneath him, crushed, mangled and 
 dead. He stooped down by the side of the 
 corpse ; it was bent double beneath the quiver- 
 ing body of the dying horse, in such a manner 
 as must have snapped the spine in twain. 
 Harold lifted the head, but let it fall again with 
 a shudder, for his fingers had slipped into the 
 crevice of the cleft skull and were all smeared 
 with the oozing brain. Yet, despite the obscu- 
 rity and the disfigurement, despite the bui-sting 
 eyeballs and the clenched jaws through which 
 the blood was trickling, he recognized the fea- 
 tures of Seth Eawbon. 
 
 Ko time for contemplation or for revery. 
 There was a scrambling orerhead, with now and 
 then a snarl and an angry gi'owl. And further 
 up, he heard the sound of voices, labored and 
 suppressed, as of men who were speaking while 
 toiling at some unwonted exercise. Harold 
 threw off his coat and boots, and waded out 
 into the river. The dark hull of the schooner 
 
LOVE AXD SECESSION. 2S1 
 
 could be seen looming above the gloomy surface 
 of tlie water, and lie dashed toward it tliroucrli 
 the deepening wave. Tliere was a splash behind 
 him and soon he could hear tlie puffing and 
 short breathing of a swimming dog. lie was 
 then up to his arm-pits in the water, and a few 
 yards further would bring him off his footing. 
 He determined to wait the onset there, while he 
 could yet stand firm upon the shelving bottom. 
 He had not long to wait. The bloodhound 
 made directly for him ; he could see his eyes 
 snapping and glaring like red coals above the 
 black water. Harold braced himself as well as 
 he could upon the yielding sand, and held his 
 poignard, Oriana's welcome gift, with a steady 
 grasp. The dog came so close that his fetid 
 breath played upon Harold's cheek ; then he 
 aimed a swift blow at his neck, but tlie brute 
 dodged it like a fish. Harold lost his balance 
 and fell forward into the water, but in tailing, 
 he launched out his left hand and caught the 
 tough loose skin above the animal's shoulder. 
 He held it with the grasp of a drowning man, 
 and over and over they rolled in the water, like 
 two sea monsters at their sport. With all his 
 
282 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 strength, Harold drew the fierce brute toward 
 him, circling his neck tightly with his left arm, 
 and pressed the sharp blade against his throat. 
 The hot blood gushed out over his hand, but he 
 drove the weapon deeper, slitting the sinewy 
 flesh to the right and left, till the dog ceased to 
 struggle. Then Harold flung the huge carcass 
 from him, and struck out, breathless as he was, 
 for the schooner. It was time, for already his 
 pursuers were upon the bank, aiming their pistol 
 shots at the black spot which they could just 
 distinguish cleaving through the water. But 
 a few vigorous strokes carried him beyond their 
 vision and they ceased firing. Soon he heard the 
 sound of mufiled oars and a dark shape seemed 
 to rise from the water in front of him. The 
 watch on board the schooner, alarmed by the 
 firing, had sent a boat^s crew to reconnoitre. 
 Harold divined that it was so, and hailing the 
 approaching boat, was taken in, and ten minutes 
 afterward, stood, exhausted but safe, upon the 
 schooner's deck. 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 283 
 
 CHAPTEK XXIX 
 
 With the earliest opportunity, Harold pro- 
 ceeded to Washington, and sought an interview 
 with the President, in relation to Arthur's case. 
 Mr. Lincoln received him kindly, but could give 
 no information respecting the arrest or alleged 
 criminality of his friend. " There were so many 
 and pressing affairs of state that he could find 
 no room for individual cases in his memory." 
 However, he referred him to the Secretary of 
 War, with a request that the latter would look 
 into the matter. By dint of persistent inquiries 
 at various sources, Harold finally ascertained 
 that the prisoner had a few days previously been 
 released, upon the assurance of the surgeon at 
 the fort, that his failing health required his im- 
 mediate removal. Inquiry had been made into 
 the circumstances leading to his arrest ; made 
 too late, however, to benefit the victim of a State 
 mistake, whose delicate health had already been 
 too severely tried by the discomforts attendant 
 
284 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 upon his situation. However, enougli had been 
 ascertained to leave but little doubt as to his inno- 
 cence ; and Arthur, with the ghastly signs of a 
 rapid consumption upon his wan cheek, was dis- 
 missed from the portals of a prison, which had 
 already prepared him for the tomb. 
 
 Harold hastened to Vermont, whither he knew 
 the invalid had been conveyed. It was toward 
 the close of the first autumn day that he entered 
 the little village, upon whose outskirts was situ- 
 ated the farm of his dying friend. The air was 
 mild and balmy, but the voices of nature seemed 
 to him more hushed than usual, as if in mournful 
 unison with his own sad reveries. He had passed 
 on foot from the village to the farm-house, 
 and when he opened the little white wicket, and 
 walked along the gravelled avenue that led to 
 the flower-clad porch, the willows on either side 
 seemed to droop lower than willows are used to 
 droop, and the soft September air sighed through 
 the swinging boughs, like the prelude of a dirge. 
 
 Arthur was reclining upon an easy-chair upon 
 the little porch, and beside him sat a venerable 
 lady, readkig from the worn silver-clasped Bible, 
 which rested on her lap. The lady rose when he 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 285 
 
 approached ; and Arthur, whose gaze had been 
 wandering among the autumn clouds, that 
 wreathed the points of the far-off mountains, 
 turned his head languidly, when the footsteps 
 broke his dream. 
 
 He did not rise. Alas ! he was too weak to 
 do so without the support of his aged mother's 
 arm, which had so often cradled him in infancy 
 and had now become the staff of his broken 
 manhood. Bat a beautiful and happy smile 
 illumined his pale lips, and spread all over the 
 thin and wasted features, like sunlight gleaming 
 on the grey surface of a church-yard stone. He 
 lifted his attenuated hand, and when Harold 
 clasped it, the fingers were so cold and death- 
 like that their pressure seemed to close about his 
 heart, compressing it, and chilling the life cur- 
 rent in his veins. 
 
 ^' I knew that you would come, Harold. 
 Although I read that you were missing at the 
 close of that dreadful battle, something told me 
 that we should meet again. Whether it was a 
 sick man's fancy, or the foresight of a parting 
 soul, it is realized, for you are here. And you 
 come not too soon, Harold," he added, Avith a 
 
286 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 pressure of the feeble hand, '' for I am going 
 fast — fast from the discords of earth— fast to the 
 calm and harmony beyond !" 
 
 " Oh, Arthur, how changed you are !" said 
 Harold, who could not keep from fastening his 
 gaze on the white, sunken cheek and hollow 
 eyes of his dying comrade. " But you will get 
 better now, will you not — now that you are 
 home again, and we can nurse you ?" 
 
 Arthur shook his head with a mournful smile, 
 and the fit of painful coughing which overtook 
 him answered his friend's vain hope. 
 
 " Xo, Harold, no. All of earth is past to me, 
 even hope. And I am ready, cheerful even, to 
 go, except for the sake of some loved ones that 
 will sorrow for me." 
 
 He took his mother's hand as he spoke, and 
 looked at her with touching tenderness, while 
 the poor dame brushed away her tears. 
 
 " I have but a brief while to stay behind," 
 she said, " and my sorrow will be less, to know 
 that you have ever been a good son to me. Oh, 
 Mr. Hare, he might have lived to comfort me, 
 and close my old eyes in death, if they had not 
 been so cruel with him, and locked him within 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 287 
 
 prison walls. He, who never dreamed of wrong, 
 and never injured willingly a worm in liis path." 
 " Nay, mother, they were not unkind to me in 
 the fort, and did what they could to make me 
 comfortable. But, Harold, it is wrong. I have 
 thought of it in the long, weary nights in prison, 
 and I have thought of it when I knew that 
 death was beckoning me to come and rest from 
 the thoughts of earth. It is wrong to tamper 
 with the sacred law that shields the citizen. I 
 believe that many a man within those fortress 
 walls is as innocent in the eyes of God as those 
 who sent him there. Yet I accuse none of will- 
 ful wrong, but only of unconscious error. If 
 the sacrifice of my poor life could shed one ray 
 upon the darkness, I would rejoice to be the vic- 
 tim that I am, of a violated right. But all, 
 statesmen, and chieftains, and humble citizens, 
 are being swept along upon the whirlwinds of 
 passion ; all hearts are ablaze with the fiery 
 magnificence of war, and none will take warn- 
 ing till the land shall be desolate, and thousands, 
 stricken in their prime, shall be sleeping — where 
 I shall soon be — ^beneath the cold sod. I am 
 weary, mother, and chill. Let us go in." 
 
288 FORT LAi\^YETTE; OR, 
 
 They bore liim in and helped him to his bed, 
 where he lay pale and silent, seeming much 
 worse from the fatigne of conversation and the 
 excitement of his meeting with his old college 
 friend. Mrs. Wayne left him in charge of 
 Harold, while she went below to prepare what 
 little nourishment he could take, and to pro^dde 
 refreshment for her guest. 
 
 Arthur lay, for a space, with his eyes closed, 
 and apparently in sleep. But he looked up, at 
 last, and stretched out his hand to Harold, who 
 pressed the thin fingers, whiter than the coverlet 
 on which they rested. 
 
 " Is mother there ?" 
 
 " Xo, Arthur," replied Harold. " Shall I call 
 her?" 
 
 "aSo. I thought to have spoken to you, to- 
 morrow, of something that has been often my 
 theme of thought ; but I know not what strange 
 feeling has crept upon me ; and perhaps, Harold 
 — for we know not what the morrow may bring — 
 perhaps T had better speak now." 
 
 "It hurts you, Arthur; you are too weak. 
 Indeed, you must sleep now, and to-morrow we 
 Ehall talk." 
 
LOVE AXD SECESSION. 289 
 
 " Ko ; now, Harold. It will not liiirt mc, or 
 if it does, it matters little now. Harold, I would 
 fain that no shadow of unkindness should linorer 
 between us twain when I am gone." 
 
 " Whj should there, Arthur ? You have been 
 my true friend always, and as such shall I 
 remember you." 
 
 " Yet have I ^vronged you ; yet have I caused 
 you much grief and bitterness, and only your 
 own generous nature preserved us from estrange- 
 ment. Harold, have you heard from he?' .^" 
 
 "I have seen her, Arthur. During my cap- 
 tivity, she was my jailer ; in my sickness, for I 
 was slightly wounded, she was my nurse. I will 
 tell you all about it to-morrow." 
 
 "Yes, to-morrow," replied Arthur, breathing 
 heavily. " To-morrow ! the word sounds mean- 
 ingless to me, like something whose significance 
 has left me. Is she well, Harold ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And happy?" 
 
 " I think 60, Arthur. As happy as any of us 
 can be, amid severed ties and dread uncertain- 
 ties." 
 
 " I am glad that she is well. Harold, you will 
 18 
 
290 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 tell lier, for I am sure jou will meet again, you 
 will tell her it was mj dying wish that you two 
 should he united. Will you promis^, Harold ?" 
 
 " I will tell her all that you wish, Arthur." 
 
 " I seem to feel that I shall he happy in my 
 grave, to know that she will he your wife ; to 
 know that my guilty love — for I loved her, 
 Harold, and it was guilt to love — to know that it 
 left no poison hehind, that its shadow has passed 
 away from the path that you must tread." 
 
 " Speak not of guilt, my friend. There could 
 live no crime between two such noble hearts. 
 And had I thought you would have accepted 
 the sacrifice, I could almost have been happy to 
 have given her to you, so much was her happi- 
 ness the aim of my own love." 
 
 " Yes, for you have a glorious heart, Harold ; 
 and I thank Heaven that she cannot fail to love 
 you. And you do not think, do you, Harold, 
 that it would be wrong for you two to speak of 
 me when I am gone ? I cannot bear to think 
 that you should deem it necessary to drive me 
 from your memories, as one who had stepped in 
 between your hearts. I am sure she will love 
 you none the less for her remembrance of me, 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 291 
 
 and therefore sometimes you will talk together 
 of me, will you not ?" 
 
 "Yes, we will often talk of you, far what 
 dearer theme to both could we choose ; what 
 purer recollections could our memories cherish 
 than of the friend we both loved so much, and 
 who so well deserved our love ?" 
 
 " And I am forgiven, Harold ?" 
 
 "Were there aught to be forgiven, I would 
 forgive ; but I have never harbored in my most 
 secret heart one trace of anger or resentment 
 toward you. Do not talk more, dear Ai'thur. 
 To-morrow, perhaps, you will be stronger, and 
 then we will speak again. Here comes your 
 mother, and she will scold me for letting you 
 fatigue yourself so much." 
 
 "Raise me a little on the pillow, please. I 
 seem to breathe more heavily to-night. Thank 
 you, I will sleep now. Good night, mother ; I 
 will eat the gruel when I wake. I had rather 
 sleep now. Good night, Harold !" 
 
 He fell into a slumber almost immediately, 
 and they would not disturb him, although his 
 mother had prepared the food he had been used 
 to take. 
 
292 '^^^'^ LAJFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 " I think lie is better to-niglit. He seems to 
 sleep more tranquilly," said Mrs. Wayne. " If 
 you will step below, I liave got a dish of tea for 
 you, and some little supper." 
 
 Harold went down and refreshed himself at 
 the widow's neat and hospitable board, and then 
 walked out into the evening, to dissipate, if pos- 
 sible, the cloud that was lowering about his 
 heart. He paced up and down the avenue of 
 willows, and though the fresh night air soothed 
 the fever of his brain, he could not chase away 
 the gloom that weighed upon his spirit. His 
 mind wandered among mournful memories — 
 the field of battle, strewn with the dying and 
 the dead ; the hospital where brave suffering 
 men were groaning under the surgeon's knife; 
 the sick chamber, where his friend was dying. 
 
 "And I, too," bethought, "have become the 
 craftsman of Death, trainiug my arm and intel- 
 lect to be cunning in the butchery of my fellows ! 
 Wearing the instrument of torture at my side, 
 and using the faculties God gave me to mutilate 
 His image. Yet, from the pulpit and the states- 
 man's chair, and far back through ages from the 
 pages of history, precept and example have 
 
LOVE AND SECESSION. 203 
 
 sought to record its justification, under the giant 
 plea of necessity. But is it justified ? Has man, 
 in his enlightenment, sufficiently studied to throw 
 aside the hereditary errors that come from the 
 past, clothed in barbarous splendors to mislead 
 thought and dazzle conscience ? Oh, for one 
 glimpse of the Eternal Truth! to teach us how 
 far is delegated to mortal man the right to take 
 away the life he cannot give. When shall the 
 sword be held accursed ? When shall man cease 
 to meddle with the most awful prerogative of his 
 God? When shall our right hands be cleansed 
 forever from the stain of blood, and homicide be 
 no longer a purpose and a glory upon earth ? I 
 shudder when I look up at the beautiful serenity 
 of this autumn sky, and remember that my deed 
 has loosened an immortal soul from its clay, and 
 hurled it, unprepared, into its Maker's presence. 
 My conscience would rebuke my hand, should it 
 willfully shatter the sculptor's marble wrought 
 into human shape, or deface the artist's ideal 
 pictured upon canvas, or destroy aught that is 
 beautiful and costly of man's ingenuity and 
 labor. And yet these I might replace with 
 emptying a purse into the craftsman's hand. 
 
201- FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 But will my gold recall the vital spark into those 
 cold forms that, stricken by my steel or bullet, 
 are rotting in their graves? The mastei-piece 
 of God I have destroyed. His image have I 
 defaced; the wonderful mechanism that He 
 alone can mold, and molded for His own holy 
 purpose, have I shattered and dismembered ; the 
 soul, an essence of His own eternity, have I 
 chased from its alotted earthly home, and I rely 
 for my justification upon — what? — the fact that 
 my victim differed from me in political belief. 
 Must the hand of man be raised against the 
 workmanship of God because an earthly bond 
 has been sundered ? Our statesmen teach us so, 
 the ministers of our faith pronounce it just ; but, 
 oh God ! should it be wrong ! When the blood 
 is hot, when the heart throbs with exaltation, 
 when martial music swells, and the war-steed 
 prances, and the bayonets gleam in the bright 
 sunlight — then I think not of the doubt, nor of 
 the long train of horrors, the tears, the bereave- 
 ments, the agonies, of which this martial mag- 
 nificence is but the vanguard. But now, in the 
 still calmness of the night, when all around me 
 and above me breathes of the loveliness and 
 
LOVE AXD SECESSIOX. 295 
 
 holiness of peace, I fear. I question nature, 
 hushed as she is and smiling in repose, and her 
 calm beauty tells me that Peace is sacred ; that 
 her Master sanctions no discords among His 
 children. I question my own conscience, and it 
 tells me that the sword wins not the everlasting 
 triumphr— that the voice of war finds no echo 
 within the gates of heaven." 
 
 Ill-comforted by his reflections, he returned to 
 the quiet dwelling, and entered the chamber of 
 his friend. 
 
296 FOI^T LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTEK XXX. 
 
 The sufferer was still sleeping, and Mrs. 
 Wayne was watching hj the bedside. Harold 
 seated himself beside her, and gazed mournfully 
 upon the pale, still features that already, but 
 for the expression of pain that lingered there, 
 seemed to have passed from the quiet of sleep to 
 the deeper calm of death. 
 
 " Each moment that I look," said Mrs. Wayne, 
 wiping her tears away, " I seem to see the grey 
 shadows of the grave stealing over his brow. 
 The doctor was here a few moments before you 
 came. The minister, too, sat with him all the 
 morning. I know from their kind warning that 
 I shall soon be childless. He has but a few 
 hours to be with me. Oh, my son ! my 
 son !" 
 
 She bent her head upon the pillow, and wept 
 silently in the bitterness of her heart. Harold 
 forebore to check that holy grief ; but when the 
 
LOVE AND SECESSroX. 297 
 
 old lady, with Christian resignation, had recov- 
 ered her composure, he pressed her to seek 
 that repose which her aged frame so much 
 needed. 
 
 " I will sit by Arthur while you rest awhile ; 
 you have already overtasked your strength with 
 vigil. I will awake you should there be a 
 change." 
 
 She consented to lie upon the sofa, and soon 
 wept herself to sleep, for she was really quite 
 broken down with watching. Everything was 
 hushed around, save the monotones of the insects 
 in the fields, and the breathing of those that slept. 
 If there is an hour when the soul is lifted above 
 earth and communes with holy things, it is in 
 the stillness of the country night, when the 
 solitary watcher sits beside the pillow of a loved 
 one, waiting the coming of the dark angel, whose 
 footsteps are at the threshold. Harold sat 
 gazing silently at the face of the invalid ; some- 
 times a feeble smile would struggle with the 
 lines of suffering upon the pinched and haggard 
 lineaments, and once from the white lips came 
 the murmur of a name, so low that only tlie 
 
 13* 
 
298 FORT LAFAYETTE; OR, 
 
 solemn stillness made tlie sound palpable — tlie 
 name of Oriana. 
 
 Toward midnight, Arthur's breathing became 
 more difficult and painful, and his features 
 changed so rapidly that Harold became fearful 
 that the end was com«. With a sigh, he stepped 
 softly to the sofa, and wakened Mrs. Wayne, 
 taking her gently by the hand which trembled 
 in his grasp. She knew that she was awakened 
 to a terrible sorrow — that she was about to bid 
 farewell to the joy of her old age. Arthur 
 opened his eyes, but the weeping mother 4urned 
 from them ; she could not bear to meet them, 
 for already the glassy film was veiling the 
 azure depths whose light had been so often 
 turned to her in tenderness. 
 
 '' Give me some air, mother. It is so close — 
 I cannot breathe." 
 
 They raised him upon the pillow, and his 
 mother supported the languid head upon her 
 bosom. 
 
 " Arthur, my son ! are you suffering, my poor 
 boy?" 
 
 "Yes. It will pass away. Do not grieve. 
 Kiss me, dear mother." 
 
LOVE AXD SECESSION. 299 
 
 He was gasping for breath, and Lis hand was 
 tightly clasped about his mother's withered 
 palm. She wiped the dampness from his brow, 
 mingling her tears with the cold dews of 
 death. 
 
 ''Is Harold there?' 
 
 "Yes, Arthur." 
 
 " You will not forget ? And you will love and 
 guard her well?" 
 
 " Yes, Al-thur." 
 
 " Put away the sword, Harold ; it is accursed 
 of God. Is not that the moonlight that streams 
 upon the bed ?" 
 
 " Yes. Does it disturb you, Arthur?" 
 
 "^N"©. Let it come in. Let it all come in; 
 it seems a flood of glory." 
 
 His voice grew faint, till they could scarce 
 hear its murmur. His breathing was less pain- 
 ful, and the old smile began to wreathe about 
 his lips, smoothing the lines of pain. 
 
 " Kiss me, dear mother ! You need not hold 
 me. I am well enougli — I am happy, mother. 
 I can sleep now." 
 
 He* slept no earthly slumber. As the sum- 
 mer air that wafts a rose-leaf from its stem, 
 
300 FORT LAFAYETTE. 
 
 gentlj his last sigli stole upon the stillness of the 
 night. Harold lifted the lifeless form from the 
 mother's arms, and when it drooped upon the 
 pillow, he turned away, that the parent might 
 close the lids of the dead son. 
 
 THE END, 
 
CARLETOIT, PUBLISHER, 
 
 (LATE EUDD & CAELETOX,) 
 
 413 Broadway, 
 NEW YORK. 
 
^ 
 
 NEW BOOKS 
 
 And New Editions Recently Issued by 
 
 OARLETON, PUBLISHER, 
 
 (LATE RUDD & CARLETON.) 
 418 BBOADWAT, NEW YORK. 
 
 N.B. — The Ppblishee, upon receipt of the price in advance, will send any 
 of the following Books, by mall, postage free, to any part of the United States. 
 This convenient and very safe mode may be adopted when the neighboring Book- 
 sellers are not supplied with the desired work. State name and address in full. 
 
 Tlie Cloister and tlie Heartb. 
 
 A magnificent new historical novel, by Charles Reade, author 
 of " Peg Woffington," "Christie Johnstone," etc., etc., $1.25. 
 
 A Book about Doctors. 
 An amusing, entertaining, and gossipy volume about the medi- 
 cal profession — with many anecdotes. From English ed., $1.50, 
 
 Rntledge. 
 A powerful new American novel, by an unknown author, $1 .25. 
 
 Tbe Sutlierlauds. 
 The new novel by the popular author of " Rutledge," $1.25. 
 
 The Habits of Good Society, 
 
 A hand-book for ladies and gentlemen. Best, wittiest, most en- 
 tertaining work on taste and good manners ever printed, $1.25, 
 
 Tbe Great Tribulation. 
 Or, Things coming on the earth, by Rev. John Cumming, D.D., 
 author ** Apocalyptic Sketches," etc., two series, each $1.00, 
 
 Tbe Great Preparation. 
 Or, Redemption draweth nigh, by Rev. John Cumming, D.D., 
 author "The Great Tribulation," etc., two series, each $1.00. 
 
 Teach us to Pray. 
 A new devotional work on The Lord's Prayer, by Rev. John 
 Cumming, D.D., author " The Great Tribulation," etc., $1.00. 
 
LIST OF BOOKS PUBLISHED 
 
 Iiove (li^Amour), 
 
 A remarkable and celebrated volume on Love, translated from 
 the French of M. J. Michelet, by Dr. J. W. Palmer, $i.oo. 
 
 "Woman (I^a Femme). 
 A continuation of *' Love (L'Amour)," by same author, $1.00. 
 
 Tlie Sea (L,a Mer). 
 New work by Michelet, author " Love" and " Woman," $1.00. 
 
 The Moral History of Women. 
 Companion to Michelec's '* L'Amour," from the French, 81.00. 
 
 Motlier Goose for GroTvn Folks. 
 A brochure of humorous and satirical rhymes for old folks, based 
 upon the famous " Mother Goose Melodies," illustrated, 75 cts. 
 
 Tlie Adventures of Verdant Green. 
 A rollicking humorous novel of English College life and expe- 
 riences at Oxford University, with nearly 200 illus., $1.00. 
 
 Tlie Old ITIercliants of New York. 
 Being entertaining reminiscences and recollections of ancient 
 mercantile New York City, by ** Walter Barrett, clerk," $1.50. 
 
 The Culprit Fay. 
 Joseph Rodman Drake's faery poem, elegantly printed, 50 cts. 
 
 Doctor Antonio. 
 One of the very best love-tales of Italian life ever published, 
 by G. RufEni, author of "Lorenzo Benoni," etc., etc., $1.25. 
 
 liavinia. 
 A new love-story, by the author of "Doctor Antonio," $1.25. 
 
 Dear Experience. 
 An amusing Parisian novel, by author " Doctor Antonio," $ 1 .00. 
 
 The liife of Alexander Von Humboldt. 
 A new and popular biography of this savant, including his 
 travels and labors, with an introduction by Bayard Taylor, 81.25. 
 
 The Private Correspondence of Von HEumholdt 
 With Varnhagen VonEnseand other European celebrities,^ 1.25. 
 
 Artemus IVard. 
 The best writings of this humorous author — illustrations, $1.00. 
 
 Beatrice Cencl. 
 An historical novel by F. D. Guerrazzi, from the Italian, 81.25. 
 
 Isabella Orsinl. 
 An historical novel by the author of " Beatrice Cenci," $1.25. 
 
 The Spirit of Hebrew Poetry. 
 A new theological work by Isaac Taylor, author " History of 
 Enthusiasm," etc. — introduction by Wm. Adams DJ)., $2.00. 
 
BY CARLEYON, NEW YORK. 
 
 Cesar Birotteau, 
 
 The first of a scries of selections from the best French novels of 
 Honore de Balzac. Translated from the latest Paris editions by 
 O. W. Wight and Frank B.Goodrich (" Dick Tinto"), $1.00. 
 
 Petty Annoyanecs of Married Life. 
 The second of the series of Balzac's best French novels, $1.00. 
 
 Tlie Alcliemist. 
 The third of the series of Balzac's best French novels, $1.00. 
 
 Engeuie Grandet. 
 
 The fourth of the series of Balzac's best French novels, 81.00. 
 The National School for the Soldier. 
 
 An elementary work for the soldier ; teaching by questions and 
 answers, thorough military tactics, by Capt. Van Ness, 50 cts. 
 
 The Partisan Leader. 
 The notorious Disunion novel, published at the South many 
 years ago — then suppressed — now reprinted, 2 vols, in 1, 81.00. 
 
 A Woman's thoughts about Women. 
 A new and one of her best works, by Miss Mulock, author of 
 *' John Halifax, Gentleman," "A Life for a Life," etc., $1.00. 
 
 Ballad of Babie Bell. 
 Together with other poems by Thomas Bailey Aldrich, 75 cts. 
 
 The Course of True Love 
 Never did run smooth, a poem by Thomas B. Aldrich, 50 cts. 
 
 Poems of a Year. 
 
 By Thomas B. Aldrich, author of " Babie Bell," &c., 75 cts. 
 
 Curiosities of Natural History. 
 
 An entertaining and gossiping volume on beasts, birds, and 
 fishes, by F. T. Buckland ; two series, ea. sold separately, $1.25, 
 
 The Diamond Wedding. 
 And other miscellaneous poems, by Edmund C. Stedman, 75 cts. 
 
 The Prince's Ball. 
 A satirical poem by E. C. Stedman, with illustrations, 50 cts. 
 
 A Life of Hugh Miller. 
 Author of " Testimony of the Rocks," &c., new edition, $1.25. 
 
 Eric; or, Little by Little. 
 A capital tale of English school-life, by F. W. Farrar, $1.00. 
 
 Lola Montcz. 
 Her lectures and autobiography, steel portrait, new ed., 81.25. 
 
 .Spots on the Sun. 
 Or; The Plumb-Line: papers, by Rev. T. M. Hopkins, 81.00 
 
6 LIST OF BOOKS PUBLISHED 
 
 Toutt Titldlei-'s Ground. 
 
 Charles Dickens's Christmas Stoiy for 1861, paper cover, 25 cts. 
 
 National Slyuitis. 
 An essay by Richard Grant White. 8vo. embelhshed, $1.00. 
 
 George Brimley. 
 
 Literary essays reprinted from the British Quarterhes, $1.25. 
 
 The Relly's and tlie O'Kelly's. 
 
 Novel by Anthony Trollope, author of '* Doctor Thorne," $1.25. 
 General Natlianiel L.yon. 
 
 The life and pohtical writings of this patriot soldier, $1.00. 
 
 Twenty Years Around tlie World. 
 
 A volume of travel by John G. Vassar, Poughkeepsie, $2.50. 
 
 Pliilip Tlxaxter. 
 
 A new American novel, one vol. i2mo., cloth bound, $1.00. 
 
 Nothing to Wear. 
 A satirical poem by Wm. A. Butler, with illustrations, 50 cts. 
 
 Political History oi NeTr York. 
 By Jabez B. Hammond, LL.D., 3 vols, steel portraits, $6.00. 
 
 Vernon Grove. 
 A novel by Mrs. Caroline H. Glover, Charleston, S. C, $1.00. 
 
 The Book of Chess Iiitorature. 
 A complete Encyclopaedia of this subject, byD. W. Fiske, $1.50. 
 
 From Haytime to Hopping. 
 A novel by the author of* Our Farm of Four Acres," $1.00. 
 
 Miles Standish, Illustrated. 
 Longfellow's poem with illustrations by J. W. Ehninger, $6.00. 
 
 The Afternoon of Unmarried Life. 
 An interesting theme admirably treated, new edition, $1.25. 
 
 Fast Day Sermons 
 Of 1 86 1, the best Sermons by the prominent Divines, $1.25. 
 
 A Guide to W^ashington. 
 A complete hand-book for the National Capitol, illus., $1.00. 
 
 Doesticks' Letters. 
 The original letters of this great humorist, illustrated, $1.25. 
 
 Flu-ri-bus-tah. 
 A comic history of America, by "Doesticks," illus., $1.25. 
 
 The Elephant Club. 
 A humorous view of club-life, by "Doesticks," illus., $1.25. 
 
 The Witches of New York. 
 Comic adventures among fortune tellers, by ** Doesticks," $1.25. 
 
BY CARLETOK, NEW YORK. 
 
 Fort Liafayette. 
 
 A novel by the Hon. Benjamin Wood of New York, $i.oo. 
 Tlie Mexican Papers. 
 
 In five separate parts; by Edward E. Dunbar, per set, $1.00. 
 
 Debt and Grace. 
 
 The Doctrine of a Future Life by Rev. C. F. Hudson, $1.25. 
 
 Tlicssalouica. 
 
 Or; the model church, by H. L. Hastings, izmo., 75 cts. 
 
 Pcenis by E:. G. Holland. 
 
 Niagara, and other poems; in blue and gold binding, 75 cts. 
 "Wild Southern Scenes. 
 
 A tale, by the author of *' Wild Western Scenes," 81.25. 
 
 Sybelle 
 
 And other poems by L , blue and gold binding, 75 cts. 
 
 The Spuytenduyvil Chronicle. 
 
 A novel of fashionable life and society in New York, 75 cts. 
 
 Ballads of the War. 
 
 A collection of poems for 1861, by George W. Hewes, 75 cts. 
 
 Hartley Norman. 
 
 A new and striking American novel; one large izmo., $1.25. 
 
 The Vagabond. 
 
 Sketches on Hterature, art, and society, by Adam Badeau, $1.00. 
 
 £:nteline Sherman Smith. 
 A collection of selected poems, large octavo, elegant, $2.00. 
 
 £dgar Poe and his Critics. 
 A literary critique by Mrs. Sarah Helen Whitman, 75 cts. 
 
 The Ne-w and the Old. 
 Sketches in California and India, by Dr. J. W. Palmer, $1.25. 
 
 Up and Down the Irrawaddi. 
 Adventures in the Burman Empire, by J. W. Palmer, $1.00. 
 
 Sarah Gould. 
 A volume of miscellaneous poems, in blue and gold, 75 cts. 
 
 Cosmogony ; 
 Or, the mysteries of creation, by Thomas A. Davies, $1.50. 
 
 An Answer to Hugh ITIiller 
 And other kindred geologists, by Thomas A. Davies, $1.25. 
 
 Walter Ashwood. 
 A novel by *' Palu Siogvolk," author of " Schediasms," $1.00. 
 
 South'w^old. 
 A new society novel by Mrs. Lillie Devereux Umsted, $1.00. 
 
LIST OF BOOKS PUBLISHED 
 
 Bro^vn's Tarpenter's Assistant. 
 
 A practical work on architecture, with plans, large 4to., $:;.oo. 
 
 Two Hays to ^Vedlocli. 
 A novelette reprinted from the X. Y. Home Journal, $i.oc. 
 
 A Tribute to Kane, 
 And other poems, by Geo. W. Chapman, Milwaukee, 75 cts. 
 
 Etiiel's liove Life. 
 A lo\'e-story by Mrs. Margaret J. M. Sweat, Portland, 81.00. 
 
 Recollections of the Revolation. 
 A private journal and diary of 1776, by Sidney Barclay, Si. 00. 
 
 Poems by FlasU. 
 A collection of poems by Henry L. Flash, Mobile, 75 cts. 
 
 Romance of a Poor Young Man. 
 A capital novel from the French of Octave Feuillet, $1.00. 
 
 A New Monetary System. 
 Or; rights of labor and property, by Edward Kellogg, $1.00. 
 
 Tl^a-TYa-TTanda. 
 A legend of old Orange County, New York, in verse, 75 cts. 
 
 Flirtation 
 And what comes of it. A play, by Frank B. Goodrich, 25 cts. 
 
 Rlauclie. 
 A legend in verse, by Sarah W. Brooks, Providence, 50 cts. 
 
 Husband vs. "Wife, 
 
 A satirical poem, by Henry Clapp, Jr., illus. by Hoppin, 60 cts. 
 
 Roumania. 
 Travels in Eastern Europe by J. O. Noyes, illustrated, $1.50. 
 
 Tlie Christmas Tree. 
 A volume of miscellany for the young, with illustrations, 75 cts. 
 
 The Captive IVightingale. 
 A charming little book for children, many illustrations, 75 cts. 
 
 Sunshine through the Clouds. 
 Comprising stories for juveniles, beautifully illustrated, 75 cts. 
 
 Abraham Lincoln. 
 A popular life of Lincoln and Hamlin, pamphlet, 25 cts. 
 
 John C. Fremont. 
 A popular life of Fremont and Dayton, pamphlet, 25 cts. 
 
 James Suchanan. 
 A popular life of Buchanan and Breckenridge, pamphlet, 25 cts. 
 
 John Bell. 
 A popular life of Bell and Everett, pamphlet covers, 25 cts. 
 
RARE BOOK 
 COLLECTION 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT 
 
 CHAPEL HILL 
 
 Wilmer 
 1181 
 
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