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THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 
9 /y 
 
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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2009 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/bloodychasmnovelOOdefo 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY 
 
 J. W. DE FOEEST, 
 
 AtTTHOB OF " KATE BEATTMONT," " PLATlXa THE MISCHrEF," " OVEELAKD," 
 " IEE>"E THE MISSIONARY," ETC., ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 D. APPLET ON AND COMPANY, 
 
 1, 3, AND 5 Bond Street. 
 
 1881. 
 
COPYEIGirr BY 
 
 D. APPLETOIT AND COMPANY, 
 1881. 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The war of secession was ended — lately ended; and 
 Mr. Silas Mather was once more in Charleston. 
 
 It had been many years since he was in that notori- 
 ous city — so much more notorious even than when he 
 quitted it, when he shook off the dust of his feet against 
 it. Over and over he had said to himself and to others 
 that he would never again go there. Over and over, 
 too, he had resolved that he icould go there — would 
 somehow or other force an entry into the accursed 
 place ; would visit it in enmity, and trample it with his 
 triumph. As a man who had suffered from its social 
 pride, and as a citizen whose patriotism abhorred its 
 counsels, he had regarded it with vindictiveness and 
 with deep hatred. 
 
 Xow he stood amid its ruins. He saw its few and 
 fallen burghers walking meekly to and fro, decimated, 
 impoverished, humbled, and disconsolate. Their rai- 
 ment was homespun, or, if they still had broadcloth, 
 it was wofuUy stained and threadbare. Four out of 
 five of the lounging and laborless passers-by were ne- 
 
 602805 
 
6 THE BL OD Y CHASM. 
 
 groes of extreme raggedness. There was no stir of busi- 
 ness or sound of prosperity in the streets. The great 
 majority of the shops and warehouses were closed. The 
 great majority of the dwellings showed no sign of habi- 
 tation. Here and there, through the interstices of the 
 neglected pavements, sprouted thin grass and long weeds. 
 The upper town, the part where he now stood, was little 
 better than a desert and a silence. 
 
 As he strolled on toward the Battery, the desert be- 
 came a desolation. The well-remembered Huguenot 
 Church was a ruin. The Catholic Cathedral was a ruin. 
 Crumbled and flame-blackened fragments of buildings 
 — many of them once superb mansions — covered a space 
 of many acres. This was the quarter where, for month 
 after month, Gillmore's shells were the only possessors 
 and tenants. There they had rioted at will, crashing 
 through walls, tearing open roofs, and prostrating stee- 
 ples. To this solitary abolitionist and patriot from Bos- 
 ton the spectacle was fascinating, solemn, and satisfac- 
 tory. He had never before seen ruins which had been 
 wrought by the hand of war. He had never before 
 seen half a city in ruins. He thought of Babylon, her 
 haughtiness, her violence, and her desolation. At that 
 moment it was a keen pleasure to remember the prophe- 
 cies against Babylon, and their fulfillment. 
 
 Then a gentler remembrance came to him. He halt- 
 ed before a large brick mansion, stained nearly to black- 
 ness by time and the damp of ocean air, and fenced in 
 by a lofty wall garnished with spikes of iron, all remi- 
 niscent of the days of grandeeism and of slavery. In 
 that dwelling, now evidently untenanted and fallen to 
 neglect, he had won life-long affection, and an ill-will at 
 least as durable, if not as fervent. There he had been 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 7 
 
 a meek and laborious tutor ; then a dazzled, an auda- 
 cious, and a successful lover. Thence he had gone 
 forth, almost penniless, to struggle manfully with the 
 world for its pelf, and to set his bosom's jewel in gold. 
 The half, or perhaps a quarter, of his present income 
 would obviously purchase that mansion now. But he 
 was not thinking of that ; his thoughts were in another 
 world. After standing a long time with bent head, like 
 one who stands beside a bier or a grave, he lifted a face 
 wet with tears, and walked feebly away. 
 
 He was still wiping the dimness from his eyes when 
 he came upon another mourner. This companion in 
 grief, however, Avas clearly sighing over Charleston. 
 He glanced sadly around the field of ruins, and then, 
 settling his gaze upon the shattered Huguenot Church, 
 folded his arms with an air of submission to final and 
 crushing calamity. He was a man of over sixty, thin 
 in figure and haggard in countenance, with long, white, 
 neglected hair. His clothing was a suit of black alpaca, 
 glossy with long wear, and pathetically brocaded with 
 darns and patches. His attenuated figure, showing 
 plainly through the fluttering raiment, made confession 
 of either illness or starvation. A white cravat, deco- 
 rously clean, though frayed along the edges, seemed to 
 indicate that he was a clergyman. 
 
 Mr. Mather, who had not yet learned to be pitiful 
 toward Confederate distress, at first surveyed this spec- 
 ter with mere vague curiosity. But presently his care- 
 less gaze changed to sharp inspection, and eventually 
 to recognition. Yes, there could be no doubt of it, he 
 had before him the minister who had married him — the 
 minister of the Church of the Huguenots. Advancing 
 eagerly, he said in a tone of sympathy — and also par- 
 
8 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 tially of inquiry, so changed was the man by years and 
 misfortune— " The Reverend Joseph Roget, I believe?" 
 
 The clergyman turned slowly, gazed at him a mo- 
 ment with dull, watery eyes, and replied in a feeble, 
 disheartened tone, almost devoid of human interest, 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " I am one of your old parishioners," said the North- 
 erner, putting forth his hand. " Silas Mather, formerly 
 of Charleston, latterly of Boston." 
 
 The specter accepted the proffered hand, and forced 
 a feeble smile. " I am glad to see you," he murmured. 
 After an instant of hesitation, much like that of a man 
 whose mind is wandering, he added with impressive 
 pathos : " I am glad to see you alive. It is a surprise. 
 The majority of the people whom I know are in the 
 graveyard." 
 
 Mr. Mather realized all at once, and for the first 
 time, that he was in a land of bereavement and mourn- 
 ing. His instant impulse was to resist this unexpected 
 claim upon his pity. "It is the usual experience of 
 men of our age," he said. " Death is everywhere." 
 
 Mr. Roget shook his head — shook it pensively and 
 repeatedly — as if seeking to repulse many .sad recollec- 
 tions. " But here," he sighed, " it has been a whirlwind 
 of death." 
 
 Mather shook his head also, but somewhat with an 
 air of sternness, as if dispensing judgment. " You sowed 
 the wind," he said, " and you reaped the whirlwind." 
 
 The clergyman made no response in words. He 
 merely glanced in a meek, troubled way about the field 
 of ruins. He had the air of thinking that the whirl- 
 wind was enough, without joining to it the exultation 
 of a foe. Mather followed his wandering, sorrowful 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 9 
 
 gaze, and then looked at the shattered, tattered man 
 himself. " I don't reproach you, sir," he added. " I 
 think I heard that you personally did not accord with 
 the fiendish madness of secession. I was thinking of 
 the wicked leaders in the movement and their crazed 
 followers. They brought their doom — the doom of this 
 destruction — upon their own heads. You surely owe 
 them no sympathy." 
 
 *' I could not help suffering with them," groaned Mr. 
 Roget. " I can not help grieving with them." 
 
 " Ah, well, I will say no more about it — no more of 
 it to 2/ow," returned Mather. " There is sorrow every- 
 where — unavoidable sorrow. I have had my own." 
 
 The clergyman bent upon him a look of interroga- 
 tion, compassionate with the habit of compassion. 
 
 "My wife — " continued Mather, and there stopped 
 suddenly, his voice gone. 
 
 "Ah ! " said Roget in a tone of comprehension and 
 pity. Then he put forth his hand, and added, "The 
 Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away." 
 
 His manner was that of one who understands an- 
 other's sorrow, because he remembers full many of his 
 own. For a few moments the two broken and bereaved 
 men stood with clasped hands in silence. At last Ro- 
 get added : " I shall never forget her. She was the 
 sweetest of her race. Have you children ? " 
 
 Mather shook his head ; it was a great grief to him. 
 But after a little he asked, " Did you know my sister, 
 Mrs. Underbill?" 
 
 "Perfectly. I recollect her winterings here with 
 great pleasure." 
 
 "And her son, perhaps? He was a boy in those 
 days." 
 
10 TEE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 "I think I remember the lad." 
 
 " He is my son now — the only one I have — the only 
 child. I am doing my best to be a father to him." 
 
 " I trust that he will abundantly repay your care." 
 
 Mr. Mather sighed. Apparently this nephew gave 
 him sorrow, or at least anxiety. 
 
 " I am sure that I shall have your sympathy," he 
 said, looking up sharply into the face of the minister. 
 "I am afraid of his turning papist." 
 
 "Is it possible? Has he fallen into the hands of 
 some clever priest ? " 
 
 " Oh, I could forgive that — almost. If it were an 
 honest change of opinion, however perverted, I could 
 bear that — after a fashion. But this danger comes from 
 a meaner source — one of the pure follies of youth." 
 
 He paused, drew a long sigh, expelled the breath 
 with an angry hiss, and then continued : " It is a love- 
 affair, as I suppose. I must really talk with you about 
 it. I remember you as a counselor of old, and I sadly 
 need counsel now. You have, perhaps, seen manias of 
 this sort. This youngster — by-the-way, he is twenty- 
 seven years old — is crazy about a Catholic girl — an Irish 
 Catholic. She is a decent girl, perhaps, but still a com- 
 monplace Irish girl and a Catholic. How can I leave 
 him my money ? " 
 
 The impoverished clergyman stared. The word 
 " money " struck him with something like surprise. 
 There were so few people in his acquaintance who had 
 any money to be troubled about ! Protestant as he 
 was, he could not yet feel that the rich man's sorrow 
 was overwhelming, and could not at once bring forth 
 an apt word of consolation. 
 
 " They always convert their husbands — those Catho- 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. H 
 
 lie women," resumed the Boston Puritan. " The Church 
 insists upon that. I can't let my fortune go into that 
 Church." 
 
 " Let us hope that it is only a passing fancy," sug- 
 gested Mr. Roget. 
 
 " I don't know," sighed Mather. " I wish I could 
 think so. The girl is very good, I fear — that is, I hope 
 and believe. But so much the worse — that is, in a cer- 
 tain sense. What I am afraid of, you of course under- 
 stand, is a marriage." 
 
 " One can hardly credit that," judged Roget, a South- 
 erner of patrician descent, and not accustomed to ex- 
 pect misalliances. " Is the young person attractive ? " 
 
 " She is what people call handsome," admitted Math- 
 er. Then he shook his head negatively at the epithet 
 and proceeded to qualify it. " She is unmistakably 
 Irish — a pleasing sort of face — that is all. The attrac- 
 tion is that she is a singer, and Harry is absurdly fond 
 of music — foolish about it. I have no ear myself, and I 
 am almost thankful for it, when I see what a snare it is." 
 
 The clergyman reflected gravely. Presently, how- 
 ever, there came to him a thought which announced 
 itself by a feeble smile. It seemed a specter of a smile, 
 rather than a real one ; it almost looked surprised to 
 find itself on those wasted lips. 
 
 " Would it not be possible," he suggested hesitat- 
 ino;ly '^to find for him another sinofer ? " 
 
 Mr. Mather opened his stony-gray eyes with aston- 
 ishment at the proposition. Then a faint expression of 
 humor stole into his white, wrinkled face, and he an- 
 swered with an air of assent and hopefulness : " Ex- 
 actly ! I would give fifty thousand dollars for her. 
 Where is she ? " 
 
12 TEE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 *' I can tell you who she is, but not where," said Mr. 
 Roget. " It is a young lady whom you would doubt- 
 less be interested in looking up. You know of your 
 wife's niece. Miss Virginia Beaufort ? " 
 
 " I came here to seek out the Beauforts," returned 
 Mather with strong interest. " Where is this girl ? " 
 
 ** I can not say. I have just arrived from my exile 
 in the mountains. My flock was dispersed, and I fled 
 with it. But I understand that she remained in Charles- 
 ton during the whole siege, or at least the greater part 
 of it. She may be here yet, probably in deep poverty." 
 
 " If you hear of her whereabout, please let me know 
 it, at the Charleston Hotel," begged Mr. Mather. " It 
 is an urgent case. I must help the Beauforts, if they 
 need help ; yes, yes, I must help the Beauforts," he re- 
 peated, solemnly. 
 
 After a minute or so he began talking of his nephew 
 again. The young man worried him much, he con- 
 fessed ; he had brought him from the North to save 
 him from that Miss Macmorran ; and — would it be be- 
 lieved ! — he had found her here in Charleston ; he had 
 seen her on Meeting Street that very morning. It 
 looked like an arrangement — like a silly or wicked con- 
 spiracy. 
 
 " Come and dine with me," he said at last. " I shall 
 have a private dinner at two. We will talk everything 
 over. Possibly something can be suggested for the 
 good of the Church of the Huguenots. We will talk 
 that over." 
 
 The invitation was accepted, and then the two old 
 friends parted, each going his own way through the 
 field of ruins, and each weighted with his own burden. 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 13 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Not far from where Mather and the clergyman 
 parted, but hidden from them by fragments of ugly 
 and pitiable ruin, a girl of some twenty years stood on 
 the dilapidated sidewalk of Meeting Street, gazing up 
 the long thoroughfare with the air of one who waits 
 an acquaintance or a conveyance. 
 
 She had a tall and slender figure, a pale brunette 
 complexion, wavy black hair, and extremely black eyes. 
 Her features were regular and quite handsome, but the 
 jawbones were somewhat more marked than is usual in 
 American beauty, and there was an indescribable touch 
 here and there which indicated the blood of Erin. Her 
 expression was most interesting : it was grave, com- 
 posed, very sweetly modest, and very sweetly digni- 
 fied ; it gave one the idea of a naturally pure soul, 
 which had been trained to meekness and obedience. 
 Her dress enhanced this impression : the coarse robe of 
 black alpaca suited the wearer, both physically and 
 morally ; it fitted so neatly as to be an ornament, and 
 yet was plain enough to confess humility or poverty. 
 On the whole, she was an exceedingly attractive speci- 
 men of the dark Irish, that mysterious race which was 
 conquered so long ago by the yellow-haired Tuatha na 
 Danaan. 
 
 Behind her, emerging from a labyrinth of shattered 
 houses, appeared the Sassenach. He was a young man, 
 blonde, and handsome in face, with short, curling, sunny 
 hair and mustache, and resolute blue eyes. His figure 
 was tall and powerful ; his erect carriage seemed to 
 proclaim the ex-soldier, and his fashionable traveling- 
 costume revealed the Northerner. He had the air of 
 
14: THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 recognizing the girl, and his expression showed pleasure 
 as well as surprise. There was a little pause, as if he 
 were devising some suitable address ; then he advanced 
 quickly to her side, and said, gayly, " Will you please 
 sing me something ? " 
 
 The young lady started as if something quite terri- 
 ble had happened. " O Mr. Underbill ! " she exclaimed, 
 turning upon him. " How came you here ? " 
 
 There was no doubting the honesty of her amaze- 
 ment and trepidation. Her pale cheek filled with a 
 dark-red blush, and then instantly became paler than 
 before. 
 
 "I came by boat," he laughed. "I arrived this 
 morning, and I am delighted to see you, and I want you 
 to sing me something." 
 
 " I remember," she answered, shyly, and dropping 
 her eyes to the pavement. " I should have known who 
 it was by those words, without looking round. But, 
 Mr. Underbill" — and here she became very grave — 
 why did you come ? " 
 
 Well, Miss Macmorran," he said, with a teasing 
 air, " because I knew you were here." 
 
 The girl was clearly as artless and unsuspecting as a 
 cbild ; she obviously believed, or at least feared, that 
 he spoke in earnest. 
 
 " Oh, no, Mr. Underbill ! " she replied, with a glance 
 of meek reproof. " I hope it isn't true. At any rate, 
 you shouldn't be here for that reason." 
 
 " What a dreadful creature you are ! " he smiled, 
 continuing to gaze at her steadily. She was evidently 
 a curiosity to him, as well as an object of admiration. 
 " Now, Miss Norah Macmorran," he resumed, more se- 
 riously, " what is the need of being so prim ? " 
 
 vv 
 
 ii 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 15 
 
 She lifted her eyes to his for a moment, and then 
 dropped them timidly and shyly. This appeared to be 
 a habit with her, and it was almost her only gesture. 
 There was something nunlike in it — something very 
 subdued and pathetic. One might have guessed from 
 it that she had known the discipline of a convent, or the 
 strict and calm schooling of the Sisters of Charity. 
 
 " I have to be prim," she said, with a faint, placat- 
 ing smile, meanwhile regarding the grasses which were 
 struggling through the neglected pavement. "I am 
 only a poor chorister — the daughter of a poor woman. 
 I must remember what I am. I told you so in Boston." 
 
 Underhill was moved by this appeal of the lowly to 
 the lordly. " Reassure yourself, Norah," he said. " I 
 came here without the least idea that you were here. 
 As to my seeking your society — well, I can't help liking 
 to hear you sing, and I don't see the harm of it." 
 
 " Nor do I see the harm of it. But, when people be- 
 gin to talk and point, I have to say that I must stop — 
 must stop seeing so much of you. You know that your 
 uncle — and he is a sort of father to you " — she added, 
 with a sweet little expression of gravity and reverence — 
 " you know that he dislikes to have you come where I 
 am." 
 
 " Such perfect nonsense ! It puts me in a fury. I 
 abominate him." 
 
 " You mustn't ! " protested !N"orah, with a shocked 
 expression. " You know that that is wrong. You 
 shouldn't say such things." 
 
 " I don't mean them," laughed Underhill, greatly 
 amused with her lecture. " What a good little thing 
 you are ! I begin to believe that the Catholic Church 
 brings up the- best girls in the world." 
 
16 TEE BLOODY GEASM. 
 
 " Then you should let us stay good," said Norah, 
 lifting her eyes with a look of gratitude, and instantly 
 dropping them under his steady gaze. " You shouldn't 
 want us to do things against our conscience." 
 
 "Against your conscience? Don't bring in such 
 grave ideas. It sounds like scolding." 
 
 " Now tell me the truth," answered Norah, with an- 
 other placating smile. " Who is it that is scolding you ? 
 Isn't it your own conscience ? " 
 
 " You are very keen, Miss Macmorran." 
 
 " ISTo, I am not a bit keen ; but I suppose that I am 
 right, and that you feel it." 
 
 " Can't I call to see you ? " he begged. 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't ask it, Mr. Underhill." 
 
 "What did you come South for? To run away 
 from me ? " 
 
 " I was sent out here on a salary — a better one than 
 I had in Boston. The Church in the North is helping 
 the Church in the South, and a choir was to be started 
 for Saint Patrick's here. It was best for me to come, 
 and also it was a Church duty." 
 
 " And also you wanted to run away from me ? " 
 
 "I did think of that, sir." This was said with a 
 charming expression, partly native modesty and gentle- 
 ness, and partly disciplined primness. 
 
 "You good — horrid — little thing!" grumbled Un- 
 derhill. 
 
 Norah was trying to be grave and severe, but she 
 had an Irish girl's sense of humor, and she helplessly 
 burst out laughing. " You see that you can't help prais- 
 ing me for it," she answered, just glancing at him and 
 then away. " I think that you, too, are good — and 
 horrid." 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM, 17 
 
 *' I am coming to Saint Patrick's to hear you sing." 
 
 " You are at liberty, I suppose, sir," she murmured, 
 looking serious again, as if she were trying to remember 
 a prayer. 
 
 "Horrid little thing ! I shall sit in the choir." 
 
 " I wish you would not, Mr. Underbill." 
 
 " Away back, where you won't see me, where I sha'n't 
 divert you from the service ? " 
 
 " Please don't, Mr. Underbill ; please sit below." 
 
 " Dreadful little nun ! Well, I suppose I must do 
 as you order. Where are you going now?" 
 
 Norah glanced down Meeting Street. There had 
 already been an effort to resurrect some of the dead in- 
 dustries of the town ; and one of the first to draw the 
 breath of renewed existence, and even of some little 
 prosperity, was the City Railroad Company — so eager 
 were the negroes to ride alongside of white people, 
 and so willing to spend their last sixpence for that 
 privilege. A street-car — ponderous, rumbling shuttle 
 of cheap transit — was traversing the ruinous warp 
 and woof of Charleston, going from the Battery to- 
 ward the Arsenal. 
 
 " I have an errand to the railroad depot," said !N'orah. 
 "I want to take this car." 
 
 " So do I," smiled Underbill. 
 
 " Then I — mustn't," returned ISTorah, after a moment 
 of hesitation. " I think I had better walk." 
 
 " Oh, you obstinate little Puritan ! " he laughed. 
 " Well, I won't tease you ; I won't go with you, though 
 I want to. Good-by," he added, extending his hand. 
 " I wish I could hear you sing before Sunday comes. I 
 wish I could meet you oftener." 
 
 She shyly gave him her hand, and replied vaguely, 
 
18 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 "Thank you, sir." Then she turned, stepped alertly 
 toward the car as if to prevent him from helping her in, 
 and rode away without looking back. 
 
 Underhill followed her with his eyes as long as he 
 could see her. It was a pleasure to him to watch her 
 thin, graceful figure and swift, springy gait. He knew 
 that figure and that gait at any distance. When he saw, 
 at last, that she would not throw him a parting glance, 
 and that the vehicle itself was getting beyond range of 
 distinct vision, he turned away with an air of disappoint- 
 ment, and walked rapidly down Meeting Street, hum- 
 ming one of her solos. It was his purpose to reach the 
 Battery and obtain from there a distant view of Fort 
 Sumter. He had only taken a few steps, however, when 
 he became aware that his uncle was approaching him, 
 and that the old man's countenance was troubled and 
 grim. 
 
 " Ah, sir ! " he said, with some little confusion of 
 manner. " So you have been studying the ruins ? " 
 
 "Yes," returned Mr. Mather, dryly. "You have 
 found an acquaintance, I see, sir." 
 
 Underhill smiled very slightly. He was too mature 
 a person, and too self -respectful, to be easily perturbed. 
 " It was Miss Macmorran," he said ; " the Boston singer 
 you know — the Irish singer." 
 
 " I remember," was the elder gentleman's sulky re- 
 sponse. 
 
 " I met her by accident, quite to my surprise," ex- 
 plained the nephew, not choosing to be misunderstood. 
 " She is a very nice, good girl," he added, a little irri- 
 tated by the condemnation in his uncle's manner. 
 
 "A good Catholic, I suppose you mean, Harry," re- 
 turned the Massachusetts Puritan, speaking out of a 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 19 
 
 life-long hatred of Giant Pope, and also out of his terror 
 lest his nephew and heir should wed unworthily " I 
 have no confidence in the virtue taught by that Church. 
 It is a superficial, formal, false Church." 
 
 Harry tried to joke the matter away. " Oh, yes," 
 he smiled, " it is the mother of abominations, and all 
 that sort of thing." But, seeing that his uncle was only 
 irritated by his attempt at sportiveness, he checked 
 it and spoke seriously. " I am not going to be a 
 pervert, sir, if that is what you fear. I merely 
 admire Miss Macmorran's singing, and approve her 
 character." 
 
 It was evident that, whether these two men liked 
 each other or not, there were regard and respect between 
 them, and unwillingness to displease. Mr. Mather 
 looked as if he wanted to speak bitterly, but could not 
 muster courage to do so. Hard words would probably 
 have hurt his own feelings quite as much as they would 
 have hurt Underhill's. 
 
 " I have nothing to say against her character," he 
 mumbled, glancing about him aimlessly to avoid meet- 
 ing his nephew's eyes. " As to her singing, I wish it 
 didn't take you to her church and among such common- 
 place people." 
 
 " I saw very little of them. The chorister was about 
 
 all." 
 
 " What has she come to Charleston for ? " 
 
 " She came on— in fact, she was sent on— to be so- 
 prano in a church here." 
 
 " Oh," said Mather, suspiciously. " It's very singu- 
 lar. I wonder if we shall find her in Savannah ?" 
 
 " Possibly ; she may be on a mission — a musical pil- 
 grimage," returned Harry, ironically. 
 
20 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 The elder gentleman had the air of being fretted, if 
 not downright angered, by this trifling. The nephew 
 took note of it, and became serious once more. 
 
 " I beg that you will do the girl justice," he urged. 
 " She certainly could not have come here to meet me. 
 She has no money for such adventures, and, I honestly 
 believe, no fancy for them. I am confident that she 
 was entirely surprised to see me." 
 
 " Oh, well," groaned Mather. " It is a coincidence, 
 I suppose. I really hope that you won't seek her so- 
 ciety. It can't do any good, you know. Are you for 
 the hotel ? " 
 
 " If you will excuse me, I'll push on to the Battery. 
 I want to get a glimpse of Fort Sumter, and of the 
 fighting arena generally." 
 
 Mr. Mather's thoughts took a cheerful turn as he 
 remembered the bombardment of Charleston. *' Of 
 course," he said, brightly. " Of course a soldier wants 
 to see all that. You took a part in those matters, thank 
 Heaven ! I mean to have a look at Fort Sumter myself. 
 But I take fatigue easily, and I need to get to my room 
 now. Don't trouble yourself," he added, as the young 
 man turned to accompany him. " I can go perfectly 
 well alone. My old complaint," laying his hand tran- 
 quilly on his heart, "seems to have left me — for a 
 time." 
 
 " Good-by, sir," said Underbill, respectfully, and, 
 touching hats to each other, they separated. 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 21 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Left to himself amid the ruins of Charleston, Mr. 
 Mather soon recovered his equanimity. The widespread 
 spectacle of that flame-blackened desolation was very 
 comforting and exhilarating to him. In all honesty 
 and purity of spirit he compared himself to a prophet 
 Avalking among the ruins of Babylon. * 
 
 " I knew it would come," he said aloud. " I knew 
 that slavery and treason and unprovoked rebellion could 
 not conquer in the end. I felt and asserted that, so sure 
 as there is a God above — a God of justice and holiness 
 and awful power — just so surely would the violent South 
 be brought to destruction. This spectacle is the most 
 striking proof that I have ever seen of the might of a 
 good cause, and of the overruling watchfulness of a holy 
 Creator and Governor." 
 
 He ended his soliloquy because he became conscious 
 that some one had overtaken and w^as slowly passing 
 him. Glancing sidelong, he noted that the person was 
 evidently a Southerner — a superbly tall and stalwart 
 man of middle age, with a grave and almost grim aqui- 
 line countenance, and an air of dignity which contrasted 
 strangely with his seedy suit of gray homespun. Mr. 
 Mather looked carelessly at the worn face ; then he sud- 
 denly leaned forward to peer at it eagerly ; then he 
 made an effort to get abreast of the stranger. Touch- 
 ing him gently on the arm, he said, in a clear, hard, 
 emphatic voice, "As I was saying, sir, it can't be 
 done." 
 
 Both men halted and gazed at each other in silence. 
 The Southerner had an air of non-recognition and of 
 amazement. After a moment he remarked in a deep, 
 
22 TEE BLOODY CEASM, 
 
 • 
 
 mellow bass, and with a singularly collected and cour- 
 teous demeanor, considering the oddness of the situa- 
 tion : " I beg your pardon, sir. You have the advantage 
 of me. I really beg your pardon, sir." 
 
 " Four years ago," said Mather, slowly, " in my of- 
 fice in Boston I told you it could not be done." 
 
 " Boston ? Your office ? " queried the other. " Oh, 
 God bless my soul ! Is it— is it Mr. Mather ? God 
 bless my soul ! I remember you now." 
 
 " And our conversation ? " insisted the ISTortherner." 
 
 " God bless me ! I had forgotten it. I recollect 
 it now," admitted the Carolinian, with a faint smile. 
 " What a memory you have ! Yes, I recall it. I said 
 that the South icould go out, and you said — " 
 
 "That it could not be done." 
 
 " I see it can't," bowed the Southerner. He laughed, 
 but not blithely, and then shook his head very sadly. 
 " We did our best," he added. 
 
 " Or worst." 
 
 " Ah, sir ! you are victors." This was uttered with 
 a sigh. " You have the right to exult. I would sim- 
 ply ask, my dear sir, is it magnanimous ? " 
 
 "It seems harsh, no doubt. General Hilton," con- 
 ceded the Unionist. " I believe you became a general 
 in the rebel army ? " he queried. 
 
 Hilton bowed gravely, and with a very slight frown, 
 probably at the word " rebel." 
 
 " It seems harsh," repeated Mather, " but that one 
 sentence I have kept in my heart for four years. I 
 meant all that time to say it to you, and to say it here. 
 I meant to say it not only to you, but to many others. 
 I meant it as a duty." 
 
 Hilton gazed at him with the pathetic composure of 
 
THE BLOODY CEASM. 23 
 
 one who has learned to be patient in the school of fail- 
 ure and suffering. 
 
 " Well, sir," he replied, " let me tell you in all so- 
 lemnity, and with such kindness of spirit as I can mus- 
 ter, that, before you have been here a fortnight, you 
 will look upon it as a cruel duty. We are a crushed, 
 beggared, prostrate people." 
 
 Mr. Mather surveyed the speaker attentively. There 
 had been a great change in him since that meeting of 
 four years ago. His figure was still tall and upright 
 and imposing, but it looked bony and wasted through 
 his mean raiment. His face had lost its old plumpness 
 and air of confidence ; it was much darkened in color 
 and sharpened in outline ; it was a haggard and weary 
 countenance. His walk had that emphatic and pathetic 
 deliberation, that limp with a strongly marked pause 
 before each step, which indicates an artificial leg. One 
 of his hands, also, was crippled and disfigured, as if by 
 the tearing of a bullet. 
 
 " I am sorry to see that you personally have suf- 
 fered," said the Bostonian. <'I have no spite toward 
 individuals." 
 
 " I was forty years old when I called on you in re- 
 gard to the Beaufort properties," returned Hilton. "I 
 was in my prime. Look at me now," he sighed, taking 
 off his hat. " Did you ever before see a man of middle 
 age who was seventy years old ? " 
 
 "Ah ! Your hair was black then," said Mather. He 
 scowled slightly, like one who is unexpectedly and pain- 
 fully forced into pity— who is, as it were, dazzled by a 
 sudden glare of misery. It is doubtful whether he was 
 quite conscious that he took the ex-Confederate General 
 by the hand. 
 
24 THE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 "A gray head is no misfortune," continued Hilton. 
 *' But this is a gray head dishonored. I am a bank- 
 rupt." He paused a moment ; the other could hear, 
 through his closed lips, the grinding of his teeth ; then 
 came a deep sigh, and the ruined man added : "But let 
 that pass. It is small business to dwell upon my per- 
 sonal calamities. We are all bankrupts — a people of 
 bankrupts. The South is an almshouse ! " 
 
 The Unionist, standing on the height of his patriotic 
 integrity, facing this ruin of a rebel, and surrounded by 
 the ruins of Charleston, felt himself driven to apologize. 
 
 " I have said my one word of exultation and reproof," 
 he murmured. " I am not ashamed of it. I said it as 
 a citizen, however, and not as an individual." 
 
 " If you had been a soldier as well, you would prob- 
 ably not have said it," observed the Southerner, speak- 
 ing with a gentle pensiveness, like a man who meditates 
 rather than retorts. 
 
 Mr. Mather let go of the crippled hand, and asked, 
 with some irritability, " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Soldiers are comrades," said Hilton. " They may 
 fight under hostile flags, but still they are comrades. I 
 have encountered many of your officers since we laid 
 down our arms. We can meet and do meet as com- 
 rades. I wish you personally had fought us. You 
 would have liked us better." 
 
 " I didn't guess that you cared to be liked." 
 
 " The war is over. It would be well to be friends 
 again." 
 
 Once more the Unionist took the hand of the ex- 
 Confederate. " So be it henceforward, at least between 
 us two," he said. " I came here to be friendly. I can't 
 forget the past. I am a Union man — a bitter one. But, 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 25 
 
 as for the future, let that be peace. Come and dine 
 with me to-day, General, at the hotel. I want to pre- 
 sent to you my nephew. Colonel Underhill." 
 
 " I accept with great pleasure, and I shall be happy 
 to meet your relative," bowed Hilton, with Southern 
 urbanity. 
 
 " He fought against you, I am proud to say," smiled 
 Mather. 
 
 " All the better. We shall have a common ground 
 of sympathy and interest." 
 
 Mr. Mather seemed much gratified by this declara- 
 tion. " I am glad that I met you," he said. " I am 
 glad on my own account. By-the-way, can you tell me 
 anything of the Beaufort family ? " 
 
 " Ah ! your wife's relatives," returned Hilton, becom- 
 ing quite grave again. " I can tell you much, sir, in 
 one word — gone ! " 
 
 " What ! All gone ? Do you mean — dead ? " 
 
 " There's not a man of that noble race on the face of 
 this miserable earth," continued Hilton, evidently with 
 strong feeling. " I must call it a noble race, sir. It had 
 furnished many gentlemen to South Carolina, and it 
 ended as a line of gentlemen should. Every one of 
 those four Beaufort boys fell in the fore-front of battle, 
 with his back to the field and his face to the foe." 
 
 " May God forgive them ! " said Mather, solemnly. 
 "They have gone to their account." 
 
 For a moment the General seemed to forget his elab- 
 orate Southern urbanity. "It strikes me, sir," he ob- 
 served, dryly, " that God may find it easier to forgive 
 than a New England Puritan can." 
 
 " I trust that I remember, sir, that I am not the Judge 
 of all the earth," retorted Mather, with equal dryness. 
 2 
 
28 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 Hilton became pensive and reflective again. *' You 
 forget one thing," he smiled, sadly. " You forget that 
 you Northerners stand to us in the place of a divinity. 
 Your foot is upon our necks." 
 
 *• I had hardly become aware of it," murmured Math- 
 er. " One can scarcely believe yet that that terrific re- 
 sistance is over. Well, as I said before, I came to be 
 friendly. Isn't there one Beaufort left ? I heard of a 
 daughter." 
 
 " Yes — Miss Virginia Beaufort," said Hilton, with a 
 bright smile. " The flower of the low country. Heav- 
 en help her ! Yes, she is here in Charleston, entirely 
 alone and very poor. I presume she will see you — I 
 don't know. Four brothers gone ! She is very bitter. 
 Our women are all in black or in rags, and they are 
 very bitter. God help them ! " 
 
 "Do me the favor, General, to tell me where this 
 young lady lives." 
 
 "I shall take great pleasure in so doing," Hilton 
 bowed, almost gratefully. " It is only a step. But let 
 me beg of you, sir, to be prepared to shoAV patience. 
 You may find her very bitter." 
 
 " I know the Beauforts," Mather returned in a tone 
 which was full of significance, and which had a slight 
 twang of vindictiveness. " I have not been accustomed 
 to expect much courtesy from them. You are aware, no 
 doubt, of the nature of our domestic relations. They 
 never forgave my wife for marrying a Yankee tutor — 
 not even after that Yankee had surrounded her with 
 prosperity." 
 
 " Old blood, Mr. Mather — very proud old blood — 
 rather grim blood," was the General's somewhat awk- 
 ward apology. "All the same, noble blood." 
 
TEE BLOODY CEASM. 27 
 
 " Thank Heaven, my wife was unlike the rest ! " ex- 
 claimed the old man, his voice suddenly tremulous. 
 " She could forgive. I am here by her wish." 
 
 The General resjoectfully lifted his shabby Kossuth 
 hat, tattered with long field service and a bullet-hole 
 or two. " Faithful and true — not so much unlike the 
 rest," he said. " Mr. Mather, I tell you that it was one 
 of South Carolina's grandest lineages of men and of 
 women. I was educated in reverence toward it. May 
 I exhort you once more to long-suffering and mercy for 
 the last one who bears its name ? This very lovely young 
 lady needs friends. She is very poor and very sad." 
 
 " No doubt of it," sighed Mather. " God help me 
 to comfort her ! She is terribly alone." 
 
 There was so much emotion in these final words that 
 Hilton turned and gazed at the speaker with compas- 
 sionate inquiry. For the first time he noticed that 
 Mather's fresh and prim hat was encircled with a broad 
 weed. " God help her to comfort youf^ he murmured. 
 " There is grief everywhere." 
 
 Then they walked on in silence until the General 
 stopped before a small shanty of unpainted boards, sad- 
 ly rent and stained by time and the weather. 
 
 " What ! — here ? " asked Mather in an awed and 
 pitying whisper, like that of a man who gazes upon a 
 coffin. He seemed to himself to be standing by the 
 funereal receptacle of a whole family. 
 
 " This is what remains to the Beauforts — the house 
 of one of their slaves ! " said Hilton. " You will prob- 
 ably find her there, washing and ironing with Aunt 
 Chloe. Or perhaps she has gone to carry the laundry- 
 work to the hotel. She sometimes does that when the 
 old woman is rheumatic and Uncle Phil is looking up 
 
28 TEE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 a job. I have helped her along the street with her 
 basket." 
 
 " Father of mercies ! " muttered Mather. *' Why 
 didn't I come before ? " 
 
 The General, turning quickly away, and tottering a 
 moment on his wooden leg, raised his eyes desperately 
 to heaven, covered his face with his battle-scarred hand, 
 and uttered a sob. 
 
 " O my God ! " he groaned, " how crushed and de- 
 filed we are ! Trampled into the dust and dishonored ! 
 This is only one. There are hundreds more — the flower 
 of South Carolina — reduced to this, or worse ! " 
 
 He limped onward up the deserted street, and Mather 
 prepared to enter the ruinous shanty alone. 
 
 CHAPTER ly. 
 
 Inside the shanty, on a wooden bench, such as 
 daughters of toil stand their tubs upon, sat an elderly 
 colored woman. 
 
 She had the mild eyes, the bright and adroit expres- 
 sion, the regular and almost delicate features and the 
 maroon complexion of the Fellatahs — a brown race of 
 north-middle Africa, far superior in parts and comeli- 
 ness to the pure negro. In spite of a few wrinkles, and 
 of ravages wrought by privation and illness, her face 
 was still an agreeable one, and in its kind handsome. 
 Her attire was as singular a mixture as poverty could 
 well gather out of the wreck of opulence. On her 
 head, folded in the manner of a turban, glared a Turkish 
 towel of red-and-white stripes. Her waist, or jacket. 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 29 
 
 wofully frayed and split by long use, was of clieckered 
 black and crimson, and had evidently been made out of 
 a table-cover. The diapering in her white skirt — white 
 only by extreme courtesy of speech — showed that it 
 had once been a sumptuous bed-counterpane. A single 
 glance at her leathery and hardened feet was enough to 
 reveal the fact that she had not for a long time worn 
 shoes and stockings. 
 
 This was Aunt Chloe, otherwise called Mauma Chloe, 
 the last faithful remnant of the feminine property of 
 the Beauforts. She was obviously in bodily pain, and 
 also in dejection of soul. "With her crumpled and horny 
 right hand she rubbed one thigh and knee, while her 
 patient eyes gazed mournfully at an empty and fireless 
 hearth. Meantime she muttered in a slow, dislocated 
 fashion the following soliloquy : " 'Pears like dese yere 
 pains 'ud breck me up some day. Ain't no 'count much 
 longer, I'se afeard. An' Phil — he's a kind o' no 'count 
 nigger, too — don' fotch in mos' nothin' lately. Ef me 
 an' him doos breck up, what's to come o' Miss Ginny ? 
 Oh, Lordy ! " 
 
 At this moment Uncle Phil, the brother of Mauma 
 Chloe, a curiously little old brown man, not unlike to 
 a withered sweet-potato, and dressed in such shabby 
 raiment that it seemed to stay on him only by miracle, 
 meekly entered the rear doorway of the shanty, and 
 seated himself wearily on the broken sill. In response 
 to an impatient glance from his sister, which obviously 
 reproached him for not being at work, he muttered in a 
 feeble, grunting tone : " 'Pears like dar ain't no jobs at 
 all, nowhar. Nothin' to give away, nuther. Could'n 
 fotch nothin' along, nohow." 
 
 " Oh, you brucken-down nigger ! " groaned Mauma 
 
30 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 Chloe. " What d'ye come home fur ? 'Spec's ye's gwine 
 ter find chickin an' sweet-pertater ? How's I to cook 
 dinnah without vittle ? 
 
 " Ain't dar nothing lef ? " asked Uncle Phil, who 
 looked weak and famished. " Whar's Miss Ginny ? " he 
 added, as if there were some help in that presence — the 
 presence of a Beaufort. 
 
 " Gone ter kerry de does," grumbled Chloe. " Would 
 kerry 'em, 'cause I was limpin'. Jess been cryin' 'bout 
 it myself. Every time she goes out on the public street 
 with dat ar basket, I'se ready to die o' shame. I'd like 
 to butt my ole head agin a stone wall." 
 
 " So I would," assented Uncle Phil. Then, remem- 
 bering his hunger once more, he added desperately, 
 *' Ain't dar no dinnah at all ? " 
 
 "Not 'less Miss Ginny gets paid. S'pose she can't 
 eat xis. Wish she could. Oh, dear ! what's to come o' 
 that chile ? 'Pears like de Lawd did'n take no notice o' 
 awphans now'days." 
 
 At this moment Mr. Mather's knock was heard, and 
 Aunt Chloe fervently exclaimed : " Dar's help ! Bet 
 you de Lawd sent dem folks, whoever dey is. — Come 
 in!" 
 
 Mr. Mather entered with a gentle step, looked around 
 him in vain for a Beaufort, and then courteously saluted 
 the two colored people. 
 
 " Evenin', Masr," responded Aunt Chloe, although it 
 was but a little after mid-day. " Walk right in, Masr. 
 — Phil, brush out Miss Ginny's chair, an' han' it to the 
 gen'leman. — 'Scuse me^ Masr ; Pse tarrible rheumatic, 
 an' it makes me kinder slow." 
 
 Uncle Phil, without ceasing to bow and grin, did as 
 he was bidden. The visitor seated himself with an 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 31 
 
 elderly person's deliberation, and then glanced again 
 about the cabin. It was a.contracted and shabby place 
 of abode, discomforting to the sight, and not entirely 
 pleasing to the sense of smell. The room in which he 
 sat could not have been more than twelve feet square, 
 and was barren of all furniture except a rush-bottomed 
 chair, a rickety pine table, a wash-bench, and two tubs. 
 In the fireplace stood a battered tin coffee-pot, a small 
 iron stewpan, and three or four plates of common crock- 
 ery. An open door, cut through a partition of un- 
 painted boards, disclosed a sort of sleeping-closet, in 
 which there was a bed made up on the floor. A rude 
 stairway, as narrow and nearly as steep as a ladder, led 
 up through a hole in the unfinished ceiling to a low 
 attic. Mr. Mather surveyed every item of this poverty 
 minutely and gravely, and shook his silvery head in 
 compassionate protest. 
 
 " My good people," he said, turning to the old cou- 
 ple, " I came to see if I could be of any service to you." 
 " Oh, laws ! I know'd you did, Masr," returned Aunt 
 Chloe, breaking into a whimper, but smiling as she 
 whimpered. "De Lawd he sont you. You's one o' 
 dem Nawth'n gen'lemen." 
 
 " Gin us our freedom. Boss, you folks did," meekly 
 smirked Uncle Phil. " We knows it, Boss, an' 'mem- 
 bers it." 
 
 Mr. Mather glanced at the dinnerless fireplace, and 
 sighed, " I fear it hasn't done you much good so far." 
 
 " Mighty starvin' times sence de wah. Boss," con- 
 ceded the hungry uncle. " Niggers is drefful poo' folks 
 dese yere days. All de same, we'd ruther be our own 
 poo' folks, an' not somebody else's." 
 
 Mr. Mather put his fingers into his vest-pocket and 
 
32 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 handed the old man a small roll of bills. There 
 were copious and humble expressions of gratitude, to 
 which he listened with a half -pitying, half -impatient 
 
 smile. 
 
 " You used to belong to the Beauf orts, didn't you ? " 
 he asked, as soon as he could get a chance to speak. 
 
 " Yes, Masr," returned the old woman, and she was 
 clearly very proud to say it. " I'se Mauma Chloe, an' 
 dis yere's Phil, my ole brother. We was Beaufort nig- 
 gers, an' no mistake. Lived down on de island planta- 
 tion, befo' de wah." 
 
 Mather seemed to care little for their history. He 
 had the abstracted, cheerless countenance of a man 
 who is recalling a happy past which ended in calamity. 
 Presently he inquired, with a fitfully twitching mouth, 
 *' Do you remember Elizabeth Beaufort ? " 
 
 " 'Member her ! " exclaimed Aunt Chloe. "I was Aer 
 gal. "When she was down to th' island I was her per- 
 tickler gal. I was older'n she was, but I tended her. 
 'Member her ? I loved her best of all till little Miss 
 Ginny come. Wasn't she grand, though ! She was 
 jess Beaufort from head to foot — only sweeter. But 
 who is you, Masr ? " 
 
 Mr. Mather's head had sunk on his breast, as if op- 
 pressed by these reminiscences. Without lifting his 
 face he now responded in a low, unsteady voice, " Did 
 you ever see her husband ? " 
 
 " Oh ! is you him ? " cried the old woman, breaking 
 into a whimper and lifting her hands in thanks. " O 
 Masr, you's come to help us, fur sartin — you's come to 
 help Miss Ginny. I know'd it befo' you opened the do'. 
 Praise de Lawd, what sont you ! " 
 
 The bereaved man made a great struggle for speech 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM, 33 
 
 and answered slowly, " Yes, he sent me, by one of his 
 angels." 
 
 "An' Miss Lizabeth, whar is she?" asked Aunt 
 Chloe, little guessing how terrible was the query to 
 her visitor. 
 
 The widower did not reply at once. Just at this 
 moment he felt all the might of his sorrow, his years, 
 and his invalidism. His thin white lips moved repeat- 
 edly before he could send an audible word through 
 them. At last he said, with unexpected and spasmodic 
 and almost startling force, " She is gone ! " 
 
 " O Masr ! " exclaimed Aunt Chloe. " Oh, 'tain't 
 possible, Masr ! " Then, stricken with sudden pity, and 
 with a desire to give consolation, she added, " De Lawd 
 he wants his saints near him." 
 
 Uncle Phil, rubbing his horny hands apologetically, 
 ventured to offer his mite of compassion. " Boss, it's 
 hard times for all of us, ain't it ? " he mumbled. " But 
 you has the hardest." 
 
 There was a brief silence, during which Mather 
 rested his elbow on. his knee and his chin in his hand, 
 while he gazed fixedly at the floor. At last he an- 
 swered, with a deep sigh : " Yes, I have the hardest. I 
 am worth a great fortune, and yet I am, perhaps, the 
 poorest of us three — the poorest in happiness. Ah, dear ! 
 Separations are too much for the old and feeble. The 
 young and strong can bear them. I can'ty 
 
 "Masr," said Aunt Chloe, "jess now I thought we 
 was powerful mis'able — the mis'ablest of all the mis'able. 
 The Lawd has show'd us greater trouble than ourn." 
 
 There was nothing extraordinary in the poor, rheu- 
 matic creature's lack of egoism. From childhood she 
 had been ruled and drilled into subordinating her ow^n 
 
34 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 thoughts and feelings to those of white people. Never- 
 theless, Mather seemed struck as well as touched by- 
 hearing so much sympathy out of such an abyss of in- 
 digence. Pie looked up at Aunt Chloe with an air of 
 surprise, and made an obvious effort to recover his self- 
 possession. " Your trouble can be helped, I trust," he 
 said, gently. " My wife's last charge was to care for 
 her people. What can you tell me about her flesh and 
 blood ? " 
 
 "Done gone dead, Masr — all but Miss Ginny, an' 
 her aunt. Miss Anna, if so be she^s alive. De ole Curnel, 
 Masr Laurens Beaufort, Miss Ginny's father, an' Miss 
 Lizabeth's brother, ye know — he cotched fever buildin' 
 fo'ts in de swamp round Georgetown, an' come home 
 to die. He was a gen'leman, Masr. His mem'ry got 
 mighty poo' at las', but he allays 'membered he was a 
 Beaufort — never stopped sayin' it. His four boys was 
 killed in battles. Miss May, what married Curnel 
 Manross, she died up to C'lumby. Only Miss Ginny 
 left, I 'spec's." 
 
 Mather inquired where Miss Virginia was, and, be- 
 ing told vaguely that she had gone out, stated that he 
 would wait for her. 
 
 " But, Masr — " began the old Mauma, with an air of 
 embarrassment — " had'n I better see her firs' — jess to 
 break it to her, kinder ? " 
 
 " Break it to her ? " stared Mather. " Won't she see 
 me?" 
 
 " Reckon so, Masr," hesitated Aunt Chloe. " Only, 
 she's mightily stirred up, she is. She don jess have 
 much patience, when she 'members it all." 
 
 " Ye see. Boss, she's had a heap o' trouble," put in 
 Uncle Phil. " You mus'n mind her. Boss." 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 35 
 
 " Is she crazy ? " asked the visitor. 
 
 " No, Boss — she has her senses," explained the old 
 man. *' But she's kinder mad — mad agin Yankees. She 
 calls 'em hard names, and keeps kinder clar of 'em. 
 Don ye see. Boss ? it's Beaufort style, dat is. Dey was 
 allays powerful fur sperrit." 
 
 "Oh, I know the family," said Mather, bitterly. 
 " Not ten letters to my angel of a wife in her thirty 
 years of marriage ! But won't this mad girl speak to 
 an old man who wants to befriend her ? It passes all 
 belief." 
 
 " Ye see, Masr, she's los' so many ! " pleaded Mauma 
 Chloe. " It's 'mazin' how dat ar f am'ly has gone up. 
 Reckon nobody ever did have s'many uncles 'n' aunts 
 'n' cousins as d' ole Curnel ; an' now d' ain't a single one 
 of 'em outside de grabeyard-fence. An' dey all fotched 
 her up to be so fierce agin Yankees ! Oh, de sperrit dar 
 was in dat ar fam'ly ! Dey was powerful livin', an' 
 powerful dyin'." 
 
 " Miss May, now," suggested Uncle Phil. " Tell him 
 'bout Miss May." 
 
 "Does ye 'member hearin' of her, Masr?" began 
 Aunt Chloe. "She was older sister to Miss Ginny. 
 Her husban' was killed, 'bout the end of the wah, fightin' 
 'long with Gin'ral Lee. Dey mostly called her Raven — 
 Raven Beaufort. It was a kind o' joke dey had, 'cause 
 she was so white. She was jess de whitest thing ever 
 you see — real milk skin, an' hair like sunshine in de 
 mornin'; an' sechejes — blue as de good Lordy's heaven. 
 Well, she was in C'lumby — we was mostly in C'lumby — 
 when Gin'ral Sherman he marched in. De cullud folks 
 had been lookin' fur him, Masr, like fur de glory of de 
 Lawd ; but his chariot was a good while in comin', an 
 
36 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 so we'd flopped down to sleep. Reckon 'twas after mid- 
 night a spell when I heerd de scared white folks a racin' 
 by, an putty soon a gret, solemn rumblin' an' trampin'. 
 Miss Raven she was fast asleep, an' her baby 'longside 
 of her. I was so wild an' full o' joy I never stopped to 
 think how she'd take it — never thought to 'member what 
 sawt o' sperrit all de Beauf orts had in 'em. I shook her, 
 an' says I, ' Miss Raven, yere's de Yankees.' " 
 
 *' Wish you wasn't thar," struck in Uncle Phil. 
 
 " So / do," groaned Aunt Chloe. " But what's did, 
 's did. ^Yell, she got right up, in her night-cloes, long 
 yellow hair down her back, an' took a pistil out from 
 under her pillow." 
 
 " Dat's so — so did," murmured Uncle Phil. 
 
 " Looked awful," continued Aunt Chloe, *' Her eyes 
 v/as a-shinin' — an' she was all white, like a sperrit — white 
 does an' white face. Next thing, she was out o' do', 
 befo' I could cotch her. Dar was de Yankees — you 
 could see 'em by de light of de burnin' — great black 
 column from curbstone to curbstone — dar dey come ! 
 tramp, tramp, tramp — couldn' see no end to 'em." 
 
 *' It vv^as kinder skeery. Boss," shuddered Uncle Phil. 
 " Seemed 's though the yeath was full of 'em — like the 
 las' day come, an' the dead risin'." 
 
 -*'So did, Masr," assented Aunt Chloe, solemnly. 
 "Believe I shouted — I was so possest. An' den she 
 fotched a scream. Miss Raven did — never heerd no such 
 a scream befo' or sence — an' up with her pistil an' fired 
 — yes, Masr, fired right into 'em." 
 
 " The — mad- woman ! " exclaimed Mather. 
 
 " Beaufort grit. Boss," said Uncle Phil. " Dey was 
 all like dat — was so." 
 
 " Did the troops fire back ?" Mather inquired, eagerly. 
 
TEE BLOODY CEASM. 37 
 
 "No, Masr," returned Aunt Chloe. "Didn' fire, 
 nor stop, nor dodge, nor speak, nuther. Dey jess come 
 on, all de same ; come on like a gret black flood — slow 
 an' silent an' steady. Didn' take no notice of her ; 
 didn' take no notice of nothin'. Seemed like it was a 
 black, monsous dream." 
 
 " An' den Miss Raven — " put in Uncle Phil, urging 
 on the story. 
 
 " Yes, Miss Raven," said Aunt Chloe, " she dropped 
 dead — right dar in her tracks ; yes, Masr — dead ! " 
 . " What ! " gasped Mather. " Did any man fire ? " 
 
 "Xo, Masr ; didn' fire ; didn' look at her ; tramped 
 right by without noticin' ; an' she lyin' dar till we ker- 
 ried her in. It bruck her heart to see de Yankees ; her 
 heart jess bust right dar an' den." 
 
 "Dat's de kind o' stuff Beauforts is," commented 
 Uncle Phil. " Grit to de las' bref. If dey can't whip, 
 it kills 'em." 
 
 There was a silence of some seconds. Then Mather 
 muttered, as if speaking to himself : " Well — I shall find 
 the girl bitter. I shall do little good here." 
 
 "Masr, I hopes you'll see her — arter we's tole her 
 'bout you," pleaded Aunt Chloe. " I icatits you to see 
 her. She's mighty poo' and mighty pitiful. An' she's 
 mighty han'some an' peart too ; peartest Beaufort gal 
 sence Miss Lizabeth. Some Beaufort women has been 
 peart an' some hasn't ; 'peared like it took putty much 
 all deir senses to 'member dey was Beauforts ; had'n no 
 liveliness leff fur anythin' else. But Miss Ginny ain't 
 tiresome ; she kin say things an' do things. Laws, masr ! 
 if you should see her — ef you should hear her sing jess 
 once — you'd want to make up with her ; you'd set you' 
 heart on it." 
 
38 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 " Yes, I must see her," assented Mather. " A charge 
 has been laid upon me. I must keep it." 
 
 At this moment Uncle Phil pricked up his ears, 
 walked hastily to one of the two little front windows, 
 and then whispered, " Heah she is ! " 
 
 Mather started ; the idea of facing the last of the 
 Beauf orts seemed to cow him : he glanced toward the 
 yard in rear of the shanty and asked, " Shall I go ? " 
 
 " No, Masr — too late now," murmured Aunt Chloe. 
 *' We mus' all talk to onct, an' talk de bes' we kin. " 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 The young lady who entered the shanty looked a 
 very suitable person to bear the character of the last of 
 a notable family. 
 
 She was handsome enough to justify Aurit Chloe's 
 affirmations as to her beauty. Her dark hazel eyes were 
 brilliant, her chestnut eyebrows were delicately penciled, 
 and her brown hair was thick, glossy, and wavy. Her 
 features were as regular as one often sees in real life 
 and her complexion — a medium brunette — was slightly 
 flushed with color. Throughout the whole fine oval of 
 the youthful face, moreover, there was a high-bred air 
 which greatly increased its charm. The figure, too, was 
 admirable, and showed to great advantage through a 
 simple '' baby- waist," although the stuff of the dress 
 was the very coarsest and cheapest calico. In age she 
 was then nineteen ; but a girlhood of agitations and 
 sorrows had matured her early ; and she had the ex- 
 pression, if not the appearance in all respects, of being 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 39 
 
 two or three and twenty. All through the singular 
 scene which follows we must remember that she was 
 still in a period of life which is ruled by emotion rather 
 than by judgment. 
 
 Aunt Chloe spoke first. "Is you come, honey?" 
 she said, with a wheedling tone and a placating smile. 
 " I'se so glad ! We's be'n a-lookin' fur ye." 
 
 Virginia Beaufort bowed slightly to the stranger, 
 quietly set down her large, shabby clothes-basket, and 
 then turned to the old woman with a grave gaze of in- 
 quiry. Her manner was entirely self-possessed and dig- 
 nified, and her expression had a seriousness very pathetic 
 in one so young. 
 
 *' Yere's a gen'leman wants ter see ye," continued 
 Aunt Chloe, still seeking to smile away the gravity of 
 the situation. " One of your uncles. Miss Ginny." 
 
 Mr.- Mather advanced with an air of hesitation, but 
 resolutely extended his hand. " I am most happy to 
 find you. Miss Beaufort," he said. Then, with a sudden 
 revulsion to reserve, near akin to defiance, he added, 
 " My name is Mather." 
 
 Virginia had given her hand mechanicallv, and she 
 now quietly withdrew it. " I have heard of you, sir," 
 was her cool reply. "How is my aunt ?" 
 
 " She is well — well for ever ! " sighed the bereaved, 
 worn old man. He was looking at vacancy now — at 
 least not at Virginia. 
 
 "Is it possible ! " the girl whispered, comprehending 
 him instantly. After a brief silence, during which she 
 glanced once at his shaken face, she continued in a 
 steady, low voice: "I am sincerely grieved. Be good 
 enough to sit down." 
 
 "Miss Ginny understan's," muttered Uncle Phil, 
 
40 TEE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 with something like pride. " We's used ter dat sawt o' 
 news." 
 
 Mather sank into the rush-bottomed chair, and rested 
 his head against his hand. The young lady gazed sober- 
 ly at him, and the old Mauma sobbed aloud. After 
 a little silence the widower, an invalid as well as a 
 mourner, we must remember, raised his tearful eyes to 
 Virginia's face, and said feebly : " The sight of you re- 
 calls so much ! You have your aunt's eyes and hair." 
 
 " So have ! " exclaimed Mauma Chloe. " Mouf, too, 
 Masr, when she laughs. I hain't done f o'get Miss Liza- 
 beth's little laugh. Never shall." 
 
 "I never saw her," said Miss Beaufort, as cold as a 
 statue. It was evident that she had already deter- 
 mined not to be surprised into friendliness. 
 
 Mather gazed at her with an air of disappointment, 
 rather than of anger. " There was bad blood," he mur- 
 mured. " It was not her fault. Well, it was not yours, 
 either. I blame no one now. I have come here in all 
 possible friendliness. The war is over. Everything is 
 over. Let us begin again. Miss Beaufort, I should like 
 to renew amity with your family." 
 
 It was now the orphan's turn to be shaken. She sat 
 down upon the washing-bench and covered her face. 
 "My family!" she sobbed; "where is it?" Then, 
 looking up passionately, she added in a strident voice, 
 " Don't you know where, it is ? Buried on the battle- 
 field ! " 
 
 Mr. Mather shook his head softly and waved his hand 
 gently. " I come in obedience to my wife's charge," he 
 repeated. " You can accept the good-will of your own 
 blood, can't you ? — of the dead, can't you ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes — I suppose so," gasped the girl. " There 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM, 41 
 
 is no other good-will for me. Every one that ever owed 
 me any good-will is dead and buried." 
 
 " No, no, Miss Ginny ! " pleaded Aunt Chloe, touched 
 and frightened by the grief and despair of her darling. 
 
 " I forgot you two," said Virginia, glancing at the 
 old couple through her tears. 
 
 " An' dis yere gen'leman," insisted Chloe. " He's 
 come all de way from dem foreign States to look arter 
 ye, chile." 
 
 The daughter of the Southland shook her head in 
 petulant incredulity. She was saying to herself that of 
 course he had his business ; that Yankees always had 
 money on their minds — the busy, eager vultures ! 
 
 " I shall not live so very long. Miss Beaufort, as to 
 be a burden to you," resumed Mather. " I am likely 
 soon to be one of those from whom you can accept 
 good-will." 
 
 "I don't wish you dead, sir," answered the girl, 
 looking him full and honestly in the face, but with no 
 sympathy in her expression — only suppressed aversion. 
 "Why should I ? Death or life, it makes no difference 
 — none to me. I never can accept a favor from a 
 Northerner." 
 
 The old Bostonian undoubtedly regarded this as 
 Southern rant or Southern wickedness ; and his pallid, 
 prim countenance showed a displeasure which was nearly 
 akin to disgust. But he remembered his business train- 
 ing, and strove to be calm, practical, and logical. " I 
 should like," he said, " to hear your reasons in plain, 
 simple English." 
 
 " A Beaufort never spoke any other English," Vir- 
 ginia flamed out. " I should think you would know my 
 reasons. The North has ruined my country — " 
 
42 TEE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 " Your country ! " interrupted Mather, in a tone of 
 argument which he meant to be persuasive. "Where 
 is your country ? What is it ? " 
 
 " South Carolina ! " exclaimed the girl, evidently in 
 earnest — defiantly in earnest. 
 
 The inflamed Unionist was so angered by this rebel- 
 lious declaration that he answered with a bitter laugh. 
 " Do you mean the whole of it, or only the low 
 country?" 
 
 Virginia vouchsafed no reply beyond a glare of in- 
 dignation. The two antagonistic ideas of American 
 politics faced each other angrily in the persons of this 
 sickly old man and this passionate, impoverished or- 
 phan. The man picked up his hat with a shaking 
 hand, and half rose as if about to depart. Then his eye 
 caught the troubled face of Aunt Chloe, and, drawing 
 a deep breath, he slowly fell back in his seat. 
 
 Meantime Uncle Phil sidled up to his young mis- 
 tress, and said in a hoarse whisper, " Miss Ginny, 'pears 
 like d' ain't no use in dis yere talk." 
 
 She turned upon him with a sharp " Be silent ! " 
 
 " Uncle Phil — " said Mather, his face flushing. 
 
 " Sar ? " 
 
 " We must all be silent in the presence of our born 
 superiors." 
 
 "Yes, sar," responded Uncle Phil, entirely in the 
 dark as to the old gentleman's meaning, but knowing 
 by experience that it was good to say " Yes, sar," to 
 white folks. 
 
 "Mr. Mather, I understand your satire," retorted 
 Virginia. " I don't know that I owe you any apologies. 
 You are not over-gentle yourself." 
 
 The veteran abolitionist and Unionist would, per- 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 43 
 
 haps, have returned bitterness for bitterness, if he had 
 not happened to glance at Mauma Chloe, and noted 
 that her lips were moving as if in prayer. Helped to 
 patience by the pathos of this spectacle, he bowed his 
 silvery head meekly, and said : " I know it. I accept 
 the reproof. I am a sick man, Miss Beaufort — sick and 
 irritable. I was not fit to come on this errand. But 
 there was no one else." 
 
 Gentleness is certainly very powerful. The sensitive 
 and vehement girl felt that she was put upon the de- 
 fensive. 
 
 *' I want to justify myself," she answered, in a soft- 
 ened tone. "You think very little of my State, and 
 that I ought to think little of it. But how is it with 
 regard to my family ? Am I to care nothing for that ? 
 Look at it ! " Here she sprang up, and stamped her foot 
 with a sudden throb of anguish or anger. " It is ruined 
 and slaughtered ! I haven't a brother left. I haven't 
 a dollar in the world. My old father — " But at this 
 point her pathetic declamation broke into sobbing, and 
 came to an end. 
 
 " Sit down, my poor child," begged Mather, sincere- 
 ly affected. After gazing at her pitifully for a moment, 
 he added : " We are both mourners. Wouldn't it be 
 possible for us both to forgive, and to at least strive to 
 forget ? " 
 
 But the child of the crushed South was implacable ; 
 mindful only of her own sorrows, she retorted, " What 
 have you to forgive?" 
 
 " We are both mourners," he repeated, dreamily, as 
 if he were thinking of his dead, and of naught besides. 
 
 " Oh, I remember," said Virginia. " Well, I had no 
 quarrel with my aunt." 
 
44 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 " No ; you were too young. Nor have I any reason 
 for quarrel with you. Indeed, I have a strong reason 
 for seeking your good-will and amity. I desire it most 
 
 earnestly." 
 
 " Do make up, Miss Ginny, please do ! " begged Aunt 
 Chloe. " Take all de kindness dat de Lawd sends, if 
 its ebber so much. Mighty poo' bee dat don't make 
 mo' honey dan he wants." 
 
 The girl pondered for a little, and then, with a 
 evident effort, asked, "Well, sir, what is it that you 
 wish ? " 
 
 " Dat's de kind o' talk ! " exclaimed Uncle Phil. 
 " Dat's mighty sensible, dat ar is." 
 
 " I will be clear about it," said Mather. " I propose 
 to take you North." 
 
 • Virginia shook her head ; then queried, " To come 
 back ? " 
 
 " I propose to adopt you," continued Mather, " to 
 finish your education, if that is needed ; also to leave 
 you a part of my fortune." 
 
 " O Miss Ginny ! take us 'long with you," besought 
 Aunt Chloe, not doubting but that the offer would be 
 accepted. 
 
 But the girl's expression changed slowly from 
 thoughtf ulness to sullenness. " I am to be picked up, 
 like a beggar-girl," she muttered. " Yes, and I am a 
 beggar ! " 
 
 " No, Miss Ginny ; not s' long 's we kin work," put 
 in Uncle Phil, with exceeding unwisdom. 
 
 " Shut you mouf, you big fool, you ! " whispered 
 Aunt Chloe, who was ready to cuff and kick her no7i 
 compos of a brother. 
 
 But mischief had been done. The high-spirited, 
 
TEE BLOODY CEASM. 45 
 
 hair-brained child gave Phil a bright smile and thanked 
 him for his stupid devotion. 
 
 " Yes, we can all work — so far," she added. " We 
 are not quite beggars. We have nearly a dollar among- 
 us," she laughed, with affected gayety. — " There, aunty, 
 take it and get some dinner. We must show Mr. Math- 
 er Southern hospitality." 
 
 Chloe snatched the money, handed it to the unlucky 
 Phil, and pushed him savagely out of the shanty. 
 
 Mather had shown no irritation under the girl's 
 levity, and he was greatly moved by this revelation of 
 poverty. " Had you nothing in the house ? " he asked, 
 putting his hand to his pocket. 
 
 " Stop, sir ! " broke out Virginia, angered by the gest- 
 ure. " Don't you dare take out your purse ! Marion 
 could dine on potatoes," she added, proudly remember- 
 ing South Carolina's almost mythical hero. " We shall 
 have more than that." 
 
 " O Miss Ginny, you's so awful tart ! " whimpered 
 Aunt Chloe. Then, turning to Mather, she urged : " Don 
 you mind her ways, sar. She's nothing but a chile." 
 
 " Go on and buy the dinner," Virginia called to Un- 
 cle Phil, who still lingered in the doorway. ^' Mauma 
 Chloe, sit down," she rattled on. "I'll get the water. — 
 You will please excuse me, Mr. Mather ; Aunt Chloe 
 will entertain you." 
 
 This final speech was, of course, a hit at the sup- 
 posed love of the Yankee for the nigger, and Virginia 
 probably hoped that its sarcasm would irritate Mather 
 into quitting her presence. She was seeking a quarrel ; 
 striving to draw from wrath the strength to utterly re- 
 ject his advances — striving to nerve herself to behave 
 as became a Southerner and a Beaufort. 
 
46 THE BLOODY CEASM, 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Me. Mather gravely waited while Virginia went 
 out for water and returned with it. 
 
 He hoped, of course, that she would tire of her pet- 
 ulant defiance, and voluntarily accord him an opportu- 
 nity to renew his friendly negotiation. But she paid no 
 attention to him. She busied herself with kindling a 
 fire on her poverty-stricken hearth. If she spoke, it was 
 to Mauma Chloe and about culinary matters. At last 
 his little stock of patience gave out, and, rising tremu- 
 lously from his chair, he said, in a tone which he vainly 
 sought to render calm, " This means, I suppose, that you 
 decline my offer ? " 
 
 " I never will touch a Yankee dollar — never ! " af- 
 firmed Virginia, without looking up from her pottering. 
 
 " I wish to relieve my soul of all responsibility," he 
 replied, solemnly. " Do you decline the whole of my 
 offer ? — the residence at the North ? — the education ? — 
 the legacy ? or do you merely decline some particularly 
 offensive part of it ? The word dollar is such a gener- 
 ality." 
 
 " I don't see how I could possibly be plainer," said 
 the obstinate child, still pretending to be busy with her 
 fire. " If I should ever touch one Yankee dollar, the 
 dead of all those battle-fields — every brother and cousin, 
 remember — they would haunt me for ever." 
 
 " I wish to clear myself," insisted Mather. " I, too, 
 have the dead to remember. I want an explicit and 
 unmistakable answer, and not a figure of speech. Do 
 you accept any part of my offer ? " 
 
 Virginia rose from her kneeling posture on the hearth 
 and faced him, flushed either with the effort of rising, 
 
TEE BLOODY CEASM. 47 
 
 or with anger. *' I have no intention of being vague, 
 sir," she said. " That is a fling at Southern eloquence, 
 I suppose. I will not touch a dollar for any purpose." 
 
 " Do you refuse to go North ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Do you refuse the education ? " 
 
 " Yes. I need it. I haven't had a lesson in four 
 years. But I do refuse it." 
 
 " Do you refuse the legacy ? " 
 
 " Oh, that — of course ! Certainly ! " 
 
 " Not a Yankee dollar ? " repeated Mather, with a 
 sarcastic and indis^nant sinile. 
 
 " Never ! " exclaimed Virginia, thoroughly infuri- 
 ated by his tone and expression. " Look here I I may 
 as well be frank with you. I hate the whole race. I 
 hate everything that they are and have. I can't express 
 to you my aversion. Why shouldn't I hate them ? My 
 country in ruins — my family exterminated — their work ! 
 As for you — well, I owe you thanks for your good in- 
 tentions, and I ought perhaps to have been calmer and 
 gentler. But I couldn't be — no, I couldn't ! " 
 
 Mather dropped his eyes to the floor, wearied of this 
 image of rebeldom. Then, as if speaking to himself, he 
 muttered, "I believe I have had all the patience that 
 could be asked of me." 
 
 **' I haven't asked any," returned Virginia. 
 
 " I was not thinking of you," he sighed, without lift- 
 ing his eyes. " I was thinking of my wife and her 
 charge." 
 
 " O Mas'r, don quit thinkin' of it," broke in Mauma 
 Chloe. " You's had a mighty heap o' patience. But 
 don tire on't, Mas'r. Don mind dis yere chile's high- 
 ty-tighty talk. She's jess a spiled baby, what I spiled 
 
48 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 myself. She don know nothin' wliat's good for her ; 
 don know nothin' 'bout the world at all, nohow ; jess 
 gabbles like she was on a jogglin'-board." 
 
 " Don't know the world ! " Virginia laughed, angrily. 
 "I know the sorrow of it, at all events." 
 
 Mather gazed at her vacantly. He seemed, half the 
 time, to be musing of some one else. It may have been 
 of the wife whom he had lately buried ; it may have 
 been of the nephew who gave him so much anxiety. 
 Of a sudden, a fresh light — the flash of a new and star- 
 tling idea or purpose — came into his faded, dreamy eyes. 
 He looked a little cruel, if not a little crazy, as he settled 
 his gaze on the girl and said, " I will make one more 
 proposition." 
 
 Virginia, as if daunted by his expression, made a 
 hasty negative gesture, and replied, " Excuse me from 
 hearing it." 
 
 The old man turned his back upon her and addi'essed 
 himself to the negress. " Aunt Chloe, I will talk to 
 you," he began. **Ihave a nephew — a young man — 
 young and handsome. He is to be my heir. Of course, 
 I wish him to marry." 
 
 " Of co'se you doos, Mas'r," broke out the woman 
 in Mauma Chloe. 
 
 "He is rich enough already," continued Mather. 
 " But I shall leave him a large fortune — at least five 
 hundred thousand dollars — so much in any case. If he 
 should marry, and marry according to my choice, I shall 
 double that. His wife will have half a million as a 
 dowry." 
 
 " Is dat ar a big heap o' money, Masr ? " asked the 
 old woman, trembling visibly, and throwing a glance of 
 piteous anxiety and pleading at Virginia. 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 49 
 
 " Miss Beaufort will be able to explain to you that 
 it is," said Mather. He paused a moment, drew a long 
 breath, and then added firmly : *' I desire to devote 
 it to her support and comfort. I desire to see my 
 wife's niece and my sister's son rich and happy to- 
 gether." 
 
 A moment of awful silence, during w^hich it seemed 
 as if hearts stopped beating, followed this extraordinary 
 announcement. Then Aunt Chloe exclaimed, in shrill 
 excitement, " Sar ! does you mean to give all dat money 
 to Miss Ginny ? " 
 
 " If she ever marries my nephew," he answered — " if 
 she renews between our families the bond of relation- 
 ship." 
 
 The old Mauma limped toward the girl with her 
 hands extended and her knees bent, as if she were about 
 to fall on the floor in supplication. " O Miss Ginny ! '» 
 she begged ; " oh, please be good an' sensible ! Please 
 hark to ole aunty ! " 
 
 Virginia stood with her eyes fixed on the floor. Her 
 face had turned to a sort of sea-shell whiteness, with 
 the exception of a small crimson spot in either cheek. 
 She looked very beautiful, but also very obdurate. At 
 last she broke forth, in a loud, gasping whisper, " It is 
 outrageous ! " 
 
 " Oh, my chile ! " besought the negress. " Don 
 be a spiled, contrary baby ! Do stop an' reckon befo' 
 you says another word ! Do have marcy on you'self, 
 for ole Mauma's sake ! " 
 
 But Beaufort blood, and the pride of ancient lineage, 
 
 and the intense anger of the beaten South, and the still 
 
 fiercer wrath of personal bereavement, rose victorious 
 
 over intercession and temptation. Virginia suddenly 
 
 3 
 
50 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 ran out of the back door into the narrow, dirty, and 
 evil-scented yard in rear of the shanty. 
 
 " WonH you say somethin' good ? " pleaded Aunt 
 Chloe, following her to the door and calling after her. 
 
 A sobbing voice answered from without, " Tell him 
 7iever ! — I never will ! " 
 
 The unhappy Mauma turned and gazed at Mather 
 with a countenance of despair. The blood had forsaken 
 her v/rinkled face, and her reddish-brown color had 
 changed to an ashy yellow. She was crying aloud, like 
 a child in pain. 
 
 The old man did not seem to notice her distress ; he 
 was for the moment much too angry to be pitiful. " IS'ot 
 a Yankee dollar ! " he repeated, with a bitter smile. 
 " Not a dirtv dollar ! " 
 
 "O Masr, don go jess yit," prayed Aunt Chloe 
 through her sobs. " She'll come back. She's jess like 
 all young gals — mighty skittish an' onsartin. She'll 
 think on't ; suah to think on't. I knows she'll come to 
 want to make up ; an' you'll want to, too, Masr. Ef 
 you could see her when she's quiet, an' see how she 
 looks and behaves like her own aunty what's gone to 
 glory, you would'n' let go of her. Masr, you could'''rCr 
 
 Mather had wheeled toward the street door, but his 
 steps were as unsteady as a sick man's, and he was evi- 
 dently very much shaken. All at once he put one hand 
 to his heart, sank down feebly into the rush-bottomed 
 chair, and sat in silence with closed eyes. His milky- 
 white face had such an expression of mere weariness 
 and listlessness that Aunt Chloe feared lest she had not 
 moved him, and recommenced her supplications. 
 
 " Oh, to think 'at dat ar chile what I fotched up 
 should make me so mis'able ! " she moaned. " I's as 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 51 
 
 mis'able 'bout it as you is, Masr. But she'll come roun'. 
 Dar's ever s' much sense in her, way down. Dar's ever 
 b' much smartness. Never was no Beaufort smarter'n 
 dat ar hussy. Wish you could hear her talk when she 
 ain't stirred up thinkin' 'bout de wah. You'd want her 
 to live in you' own house all you' life. An' oh, ef you 
 could hear her sing, Masr ! — jess hear her sing once ! — 
 you'd ask her to stay with you, like Abraham did the 
 angels." 
 
 Mather lifted his face with an expression of desire 
 and hope which was almost a smile. Virginia's singing, 
 he recollected, was to have saved his nephew from the 
 musical wiles of that Irish Lorelei, and from peril of 
 conversion to papacy. 
 
 " Ah, dear ! it seems to me that I have done my 
 whole duty," he sighed. " Still, she shall have time 
 to think of it. I will so make my will as to give her 
 time. She shall have half a million, on the death of 
 her husband, if that husband is my nephew. When 
 she comes in, tell her that, and tell her to think of it. 
 If she wishes to see me again, or to write to me, I am 
 at the Charleston Hotel." 
 
 Aunt Chloe brimmed over with quavering thanks 
 and benedictions. " You won't never be sorry, Masr," 
 she promised. " De young gen'leman won't be sorry, 
 nuther. Dey makes good wives — Beaufort women 
 doos — ef dey is spunky. You knows it, Masr." 
 
 " Yes, I know it," said Mather, wiping his eyes. He 
 glanced toward the back door and listened a moment. 
 " She won't come in," he added, with an air of disap- 
 pointment and vexation. Then, rising slowly, he drew 
 a large pocket-book from the breast of his coat, and 
 gave it to the old woman. Hide that," he whispered. 
 
52 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 " It's full of Yankee dollars — the things she hates. And 
 here is a shake of a Yankee hand." 
 
 " God bless it, Masr ! " wept Aunt Chloe. " Bless 
 all de Yankee han's. Dey's as good as dey is strong." 
 
 She tried to kiss his hand, but he gently drew it 
 away from her, glanced once more at the back door, 
 and then went forth into the street. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The next day was Sunday, or, as Mr. Mather pre- 
 ferred to call it, the Sabbath. He attended the Presby- 
 terian service in the morning, dutifully and decently 
 accompanied by his relative, the ex-Colonel, although 
 the latter would have preferred a ritual which offered 
 more music and less doctrine. In the afternoon, finding 
 himself very weary, possibly from the excitement of the 
 previous day, he took a nap, and left the young man to 
 his own devices. Toward supper-time he awoke much 
 refreshed, read a chapter or two in his small traveling 
 Bible, and began to ponder his double duty of convert- 
 ing his rebellious niece to Unionism and saving his be- 
 wildered nephew from Popery. He was growing a little 
 nervous and fretful over the double problem, when Un- 
 derhill returned from a stroll and entered the room. 
 The uncle did his best to smile cordially and to speak in 
 a tone of cheery unconcern ; but, in spite of all, there 
 was an air of suspicion about him as he said, " Well, 
 sir, and where have you been ? " 
 
 It so happened that the young man had attended 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 53 
 
 vespers at St. Patrick's, and he candidly avowed the 
 fact, although he could not have wished to do so. 
 
 "What for?" grumbled Mather, his cheerfulness 
 vanishing at once, — so well did he know the reason 
 which he demanded. 
 
 Underhill foresaw a disagreeable discussion, but his 
 health and temper were good, and he smiled pleasantly 
 as he replied, " To tell the truth, sir, I went there to 
 hear Miss Macmorran sing." 
 
 " Look here, Harry ! " broke out the senior, with a 
 face of sincere distress, " I don't like this. I can't bear 
 it. What does it all mean ? Is it a flirtation ? I must 
 say that I think nothing quite so degrading to the in- 
 tellect and morals as a passion for cheap conquests." 
 
 "My dear uncle, I am not making a cheap con- 
 quest." 
 
 " No, it wouldn't be a cheap conquest ; it would be 
 a frightfully dear one." 
 
 "I don't think I quite understand you, sir. Dear to 
 whom ? " 
 
 " Dear to yourself — very costly to yourself." 
 
 " I am glad, at least, that you consider me a foolish 
 fellow, rather than a bad one." 
 
 " I don't charge you with being a bad fellow — not 
 yet. But I don't know how it will terminate. When 
 a man courts a woman far beneath him, he may end by 
 being either a knave or a fool. Where do you expect 
 to end ? Not in marriage, I suppose and trust. What 
 can a young gentleman of your breeding and education 
 do with a commonplace, uncultivated wife ? " 
 
 "It hasn't come to thinking of that," interrupted 
 Harry, rather indignantly. 
 
 " Don't try to head me off," answered the uncle with 
 
64 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 equal heat. " I want to have my say out. Are you 
 prepared to turn Papist ? I presume not. Are you pre- 
 pared to sign a bond engaging yourself to educate your 
 children as Papists ? I hope not. Then what is the use 
 of flirting with a Catholic girl ? It can't end in mar- 
 riage." 
 
 " I should say not, decidedly." 
 
 " In that case, why not let this girl alone ? Why do 
 you run the risk of troubling her imagination and ruin- 
 ing her peace ? " 
 
 " My dear uncle, I have simply been to hear her sing. 
 I didn't speak to her, nor get a chance to." 
 
 " It seems to me, Harry, that you, with the surround- 
 ings you have, might find your music otherwhere." 
 
 "Well, now, not so very easily. I don't know a 
 single young lady in society who sings like this girl." 
 
 Mr. Mather rose and walked slowly up and down the 
 room, with his hands twisted together behind his back, 
 and his head bent in meditation. Perhaps he was 
 querying whether a Christian man really had a right to 
 draw his ass out of a pit on the Sabbath-day. Perhaps 
 he was simply pondering how best to introduce his proj- 
 ect of marriage between the said ass and Virginia Beau- 
 fort. After two or three turns he stopped in front of 
 his nephew, and said in a gentle voice and with a faint 
 smile, " Suppose I should introduce you to one ? " 
 
 " A singer ? " asked Underhill, staring and amused. 
 " I should like it prodigiously." 
 
 The uncle took another ruminative walk, halted 
 again and added : "I am trying to tame a beautiful 
 young rebel. I should like you to help me." 
 
 " Just give me a chance at her," laughed Harry. 
 
 " She is a wonderful singer. So they tell me." 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 55 
 
 " I'll promise to be attentive to all the wonderful 
 singers that you'll show me. Who is she ? " 
 
 " Miss Virginia Beaufort. The last of the Beaufort 
 name — the last ! It is a very sad case." 
 
 " Why, she is a connection ! Why shouldn't I see 
 her ? I should like very much to call on her." 
 
 ]Mr. Mather was obviously gratified, indeed he was 
 pathetically elated, by this expression of interest. He 
 sat down by the young man and told him the whole 
 story of Virginia Beaufort's calamities and grief — not 
 even omitting her bitterness. 
 
 " It is very touching," said Harry, who was as yet 
 far from suspecting his uncle's matrimonial project. 
 " But it looks like a desperate case for reconstruction. 
 All the same, something ought to be done for her — I 
 mean in the financial way." 
 
 " I should like to get her married to some well-to-do 
 young IN'ortherner," cautiously suggested Mather. 
 
 " Yes ; but what's to become of the young North- 
 erner ? " Underbill laughed. " He would have to turn 
 rebel, and bond himself to educate his children as rebels. 
 What I meant was a dowry, and let her find her own 
 husband. Couldn't you and I subscribe — ? " 
 
 " I have made her an offer," interrupted the old gen- 
 tleman. "I hope to hear from her to-morrow." 
 
 " Anything that I can do in the way of courtesy and 
 attention, sir ? " asked Harry. 
 
 Mr. Mather fell into profound thought, twirling his 
 thumbs nervously around each other, and moving his 
 lips as if he were arguing earnestly with some one. 
 After a while he looked up with an air of confirmed 
 resolution and said : " I have a plan for her. I think I 
 had better tell you frankly all about it. This girl, my 
 
56 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 wife's niece, is behaving like a madwoman. You, my 
 sister's son, are behaving like a madman." 
 
 " There's a pair of us," conceded the ex-Colonel, 
 smiling. 
 
 *' I saw her yesterday, and I thought of you," con- 
 tinued the uncle. " I decided then and there what to 
 do with my estate. It is my own, you know — morally 
 as well as legally — my own in every way. I owe no 
 man anything." 
 
 Underbill was attentive, but tranquil. He must have 
 divined just then that his uncle's fortune, or a great part 
 of it, was likely to slip away from him. But, as he was 
 well off in his own right, and also very healthy in mind 
 and body, he bore the situation easily. After arching his 
 eyebrows pensively for a moment, he said : " Excuse me, 
 sir ; I think you owe something to the community. To 
 a certain extent we get and keep property through the 
 protection of the community." 
 
 " Yes," returned the old capitalist, emphatically and 
 proudly. " When estates are as large as mine, they are 
 not altogether the work of one man. I am glad to ac- 
 knowledge my debt to my country and my fellow-citi- 
 zens. The community — that is, its works of piety and 
 beneficence — will have one fifth of my fortune." 
 
 " It is a very splendid gift, sir. It is none too much." 
 
 "The other four fifths," continued Mather, "a mill- 
 ion of dollars, Harry — it is a great deal of money ! — the 
 other four fifths will go to you and Miss Beaufort, on 
 condition — " 
 
 Here he paused a moment. On the brink of divulg- 
 ing his plan, he trembled at it. There was a possibility 
 that to other men, and especially to the man who was 
 principally interested in it, it might appear like lunacy. 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 5T 
 
 " Well, sir," he somewhat timorously concluded, 
 " what condition do you propose yourself ? " 
 
 "I really don't know, sir," stammered Harry, who 
 began to see w^hither the conversation was leading. 
 " Thank you, for your great good-will and generosity. 
 I am sorry to talk of this subject. Of course, I have no 
 right to propose the condition. I should hope it would 
 be possible and comfortable." 
 
 " Marriage ! " pronounced Mather, as if he were or- 
 dering it ; and immediately asked, anxiously, " What 
 do you say ? " 
 
 Underhill looked thunderstruck and antagonistic. 
 He drew a long breath, glanced at the old man's eager 
 face, and then made an effort to gain time. 
 
 " Yes ; but she won't, will she ? " he prevaricated. 
 " She's a frantic rebel, you tell me." 
 
 " Well — that is, for the present," admitted Mather, 
 who had driven many a bargain in his life, and had the 
 air of driving one now. " I don't want to put off a lu- 
 natic on to you. But I suppose a wedding-portion of 
 this magnitude will restore her to sanity." 
 
 " Perhaps so," Harry smiled, not very merrily. " It 
 seems reasonable, in a general way, to hope it. But 
 suppose it shouldn't, then how about me f What sort 
 of a chance for connubial bliss should I have ? What 
 if my wife should secede ? I can't order a levy of three 
 hundred thousand volunteers to bring her back." 
 
 " If a man is a good husband, his wife doesn't se- 
 cede," said Mather, recollecting his own happy w^edded 
 life. 
 
 " As a rule, I dare say. But, my dear uncle, this is 
 an exceptional case. Here is one of your high-strung, 
 vindictive Southern girls to be wedlocked with an ex- 
 
58 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 Colonel of the Federal forces. The very honeymoon 
 might be a thirty-days' battle. She would hold me re- 
 sponsible for the bombardment of Charleston. I should 
 have to throw up field-works. I couldn't say * United 
 States,' except under protection of a flag of truce. You 
 wouldnH like to see me driven to turn Copperhead, 
 would you ? " 
 
 Mr. Mather was not amused at this raillery ; on the 
 contrary, he seemed irritated. "The wedding-journey 
 would convert her," he affirmed. " Northern comfort and 
 elegance would make her a good Unionist. One year of 
 married life would turn her into a black Republican." 
 
 Harry stared at his potent and resolute relative, and 
 uttered the embarrassed laugh of a man who is at his 
 wits' end. 
 
 " I am tremendously scared, uncle," he said, present- 
 ly. " Couldn't you detail me to lighter duty, and let 
 somebody else storm this battery ? " 
 
 " I tell you it is not heavy duty," insisted the self- 
 willed old capitalist and fretful invalid. " You will not 
 find it heavy when you come to it. You remember my 
 wife, Harry ? You remember our life together ? You 
 remember her last charge to me ? Z remember — I must 
 remember ! It is particularly my desire that my sis- 
 ter's son should marry my wife's niece." 
 
 " I understand all that, sir," Underbill bowed, re- 
 spectfully. *' I assure you that I sympathize with your 
 recollections and feelings. But just look for a moment 
 at my side of the case. A man ought to love his wife, 
 
 BU*." 
 
 "Wait till you have seen her. She is handsome 
 enough for you — handsome enough for King Ahasuerus. 
 She is a wonderful singer, too — so Hilton and others 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 59 
 
 tell me. Finally, she is a lady— or will be one when 
 this rebel craze wears out. She must be a lady— my 
 
 wife's blood ! " 
 
 "Ah! well, we'll see," promised Harry, inclining 
 his head thoughtfully, and then laughing once more, 
 like a man utterly nonplused. " Of course, I must have 
 a look at her first. We can't be married by proxy, like 
 kings and queens. I should like just a word with her 
 before the ceremony takes place." 
 
 "Certainly you will see her and have a word with 
 her," answered the uncle, pettishly. 
 
 " By Jove ! I'm afraid I shall have a great many 
 words with her," thought Underhill ; but he did not say 
 it aloud, and had the air of being tranquilly acquiescent. 
 
 "Harry, I'm obliged to you for your good-will in 
 this matter," resumed Mather. " I can understand that 
 to you my proposition must seem strange and savoring 
 of family tyranny. Let me explain that I am not order- 
 ing this marriage. No, no ! I simply desire that it may 
 take place, and that you will favor it. Do what you 
 can for it. Oblige me ! If it fails through Miss Beau- 
 fort's fault, I shall not hold you responsible — I shall not 
 seek to punish you. I want to bring this union about ; 
 but I will be rational in the business — I am not a mad- 
 man." 
 
 Underhill looked as if he doubted this final state- 
 ment ; but he preserved the courtesy which even the 
 sauciest of us usually extend to wealthy relatives ; he 
 simply asked when he was likely to meet the young 
 lady. 
 
 " I ought to have heard from her before this," grum- 
 bled the old gentleman. " She might have tried to see 
 me, I think." 
 
60 TEE BLOODY CEASJI. 
 
 " Perhaps she couldn't borrow a revolver," ventured 
 Harry. 
 
 " She may have expected another call from me," 
 Mather continued. " Well, we will go there, you and 
 I, to-morrow." 
 
 " Hadn't we better wear some kind of helmets, to 
 keep off scalding water ? " 
 
 The uncle smiled, half fretfully, half sadly. " You 
 forget who she is and what she has suffered," he said. 
 " When you have seen her you will stop these jokes. 
 It is a most pitiable case. I was very sorry for her, — 
 as well as very angry with her." 
 
 Underbill apologized. Then he suggested that it 
 would be well to use some art in making the call, if only 
 to gain admittance. Why not send a friendly native 
 ahead to ask for a parley ? There was General Hilton, 
 for instance, a pleasant-mannered, genial-hearted sort 
 of a man — tolerably reconstructed in politics, and friend- 
 ly in disposition also — the legal adviser of the Beaufort 
 family in its days of prosperity. Why not engage him 
 to bear a message and ask an audience ? 
 
 " An ex-rebel General ! " growled Mather. " It's 
 hard for a Boston man to trust those fellows, or get on 
 with them." 
 
 " The question is here what sort of a fellow a Charles- 
 ton lady can get on with," urged Underbill. "I feel 
 certain that Hilton can start my suit better than I can 
 start it myself." 
 
 Then it was agreed that the whole story should be 
 told to the General in confidence, and that he should be 
 induced, if possible, to befriend and forward the pro- 
 posed courtship. 
 
 " An excellent idea ! " said Mather, who considered 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 61 
 
 it his own invention as soon as he had assented to it. 
 "Hilton and I will call first. Then you will call. 
 You'll take a bouquet, or something of that sort, you 
 know. You know best what to take." 
 
 He looked quite satisfied with himself, like a man 
 who has given full and sound counsel, and is aware of 
 it. Next he put his hand caressingly on his nephew's 
 shoulder, and they went amicably down to tea together. 
 
 That evening — writing to a friend in Boston — the 
 Colonel expressed an opinion that his uncle's mind was 
 failing — undermined by invalidism, grief, and the long 
 excitement of the war. 
 
 CHAPTER Yin. 
 
 As early as possible on Monday Mr. Mather looked 
 up General Hilton and communicated to him his ex- 
 traordinary project of marriage. 
 
 The urbane and warm-hearted South Carolinian re- 
 ceived the announcement with unconcealable astonish- 
 ment, indeed, but also with expressions of rejoicing and 
 promises of earnest furtherance. " I will go with you 
 to call on Miss Beaufort," he volunteered. " I scarcely 
 think that she will decline to receive any one who is in 
 my company. Allow me to suggest, by-the-way, that 
 nothing more should be said, for the present, of this 
 matrimonial overture. That will come up in time be- 
 tween the young people, I trust. The utmost that you 
 and I can hope to effect is a reconciliation between the 
 families, and a resumption of intercourse." 
 
 Mr. Mather, having first remarked fretfully that 
 
62 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 there never had been any intercourse, went on to state 
 that he agreed with the General's plan of ojjerations. 
 The young lady should not be pestered just now about 
 the marriage, and should simply be urged to receive 
 her Northern connections as friends, or at least as ac- 
 quaintance. " Suppose we call on her this afternoon at 
 four," he said in his positive, business-like way. " Is 
 the hour convenient to you ? Will you meet me there ? " 
 
 " Quite convenient," bowed the General. " But, if 
 you will permit me to say so, I think we had better go 
 to Miss Beaufort's residence together," he added, giving 
 such respectful mention to Virginia's shanty that it 
 almost sounded like a joke. *' Your appearance there 
 alone — excuse me for mentioning it — might renew her 
 excitement. With your permission, I will call for you 
 at the hotel." 
 
 " Very good — thank you," said Mr. Mather, briefly, 
 but perhaps none the less gratefully. Then he went 
 home to look up his nephew and inform him of the 
 plan of operations. " In six hours from now," he said, 
 looking at his watch, " I hope to know what we are to 
 expect." 
 
 *' Make it six hours and twenty minutes," replied 
 the young man, with rather a grim smile. " I can wait 
 that long." 
 
 But, although Underhill could joke, he was not 
 meny nor tranquil. By the time it got to be a quarter 
 of four in the afternoon he felt as if preparations were 
 being made for his hanging. He was too uneasy to 
 remain in the hotel, and wandered forth to divert his 
 mind. After strolling a few minutes without any defi- 
 nite goal in view, it occurred to him that he might 
 properly look up his proposed bride's place of abode. 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 63 
 
 and lie in ambush for a chance sight of her. Accord- 
 ingly, he set off in the direction of the shanty, walking 
 swiftly in order to reach it before the arrival of the 
 seniors. His air meanwhile was that of a man whose 
 soul is perplexed and whose intentions are various. It 
 must be remembered that he had Norah Macmorran to 
 think of, as well as Virginia Beaufort. Chance ordained 
 that he should stumble upon the pretty Irish songster as 
 he turned a street corner. 
 
 " I am delighted ! " he exclaimed, stopping her at 
 once. " I am very, very glad to meet you," he added, 
 with perilous interest. 
 
 Norah received him in a manner quite characteristic 
 of herself. She recoiled slightly, colored deeply, glanced 
 at him in her shy way, dropped her eyes to the pave- 
 ment, and said nothing. 
 
 " I should like to tell you something," he went on 
 eagerly. " But I mustn't." 
 
 " I suppose it is because I ought not to know it," 
 she answered, gravely. " Of course, I mustn't wish to 
 
 know it." 
 
 " Oh, you lovely little prude ! " he murmured, gaz- 
 ing at her with frank admiration and liking. " You are 
 perfectly fascinating." 
 
 She gave him a quick, troubled look, and then 
 dropped her long lashes again. " I wish you wouldn't 
 say such things, sir," she begged, in a very low tone, 
 almost a whisper. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " complained Harry. " I wish you would 
 hear them with the good-will that I have in saying 
 them." 
 
 " I must bid you good-afternoon, sir," she responded 
 without lifting her eyes. Her expression was really 
 
64 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 troubled, and her voice constrained and serious. She 
 had the air of a person who, under pressure of con- 
 science, performs a painful duty. As she spoke she 
 drew gently to one side and sought to pass the young 
 man. 
 
 " Wait, Miss Macmorran ! — listen to me one mo- 
 ment ! " he begged. Then, as she persisted in gliding 
 by, he added, breathlessly : " When can I see you again ? 
 Where can I see you ? " 
 
 ** I don't know, sir," returned Norah, in an utterance 
 which was so near to a gasp that it betrayed a violently 
 beating heart. " Please excuse me now," she added, 
 with a piteous smile which besought him not to be an- 
 gry. " Good-by, sir." 
 
 There was no possibility of detaining her ; there 
 was no chance of doing any further folly. He said 
 "Good-by," and let her depart, lifting his hat respect- 
 fully. Then he walked onward with a perturbed coun- 
 tenance, muttering irrational and contradictory things. 
 " Little goose ! " he fretted. " What does she treat me 
 in that style for ? Probably she has had a lot of advice 
 from some Sister of Charity. Girls always tell. But 
 what a pretty expression ! Oh, that shy little dropping 
 of the eyes ! I shall fall in love with her yet. Non- 
 sense ! I can't afford it. What would Boston say ? " 
 
 In his meditations concerning Miss Macmorran he 
 forgot that he wanted to get a glimpse of Miss Beau- 
 fort, passed the street which led toward her shanty, and 
 took one far below it. After a time he discovered his 
 mistake, and meandered back in a blundering hurry, 
 only to come upon his uncle and General Hilton. They 
 had halted at the corner nearest Virginia's humble resi- 
 dence, and the Carolinian was discoursing with an air 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 65 
 
 of oratory, while the Bostonian listened in silence. Un- 
 derhill could discern that the old Puritan seemed wor- 
 ried, and was studying his fluent companion with an air 
 of suspicion. 
 
 " Is that you, Harry ? " said Mr. Mather. " I under- 
 stood that you were not to be with us." 
 
 " Couldn't keep away from this part of the town," 
 explained the young man. " I want to steal a peep, if 
 possible, at Miss Beaufort." 
 
 " Reconnoitring ! " laughed the General. " That's a 
 good soldier. All's fair in love and in war." 
 
 There was something in Hilton's face and tone of 
 voice which indicated that he had followed the too com- 
 mon Southern custom of preparing for an unusual scene 
 or effort by a liberal refreshment of strong liquors. He 
 grasped Underhill's hand and shook it with embarrass- 
 ing fervor. 
 
 "Colonel," he said, dwelling upon and repeating the 
 title — " Colonel, I never meet one of you gentlemen who 
 fought against us but what my heart warms to him. 
 By Jove, sir, you are more of a comrade of mine than 
 any scallawag of a Southron who staid behind in the 
 bomb-proofs and bake-shops." 
 
 " Thank you, General," smiled Harry, quite conscious 
 the while that he owed at least a part of this fraterniza- 
 tion to the bottle. " Comrade as much as you will, and 
 comrade to every good soldier. Southern or Northern." 
 
 " That is the spirit of a gentleman and a Christian," 
 declared Hilton, wheeling upon the bothered Mather. 
 " The men in blue were the noblest and highest-souled 
 part of your population. If you had been twenty years 
 younger, sir, you would have had on the uniform your- 
 self." 
 
m TEE BLOODY CEA8M. 
 
 " I trust so," fretted the old Puritan. " I thank 
 Heaven that I had a nephew who could wear it for me." 
 
 He looked nothing less than disgusted. He had an 
 air of sniffing the atmosphere with his thin white nose 
 for the hated odor of whisky. He suspected the Gen- 
 eral's mellowness with the uncharitable suspicion of a 
 teetotaler. 
 
 *' Gentlemen, this is a love-feast," continued Hilton, 
 not in the least guessing Mather's horror of him. " I 
 enjoy it beyond expression. But we have something to 
 do. We must lay out our plan of battle. Colonel — my 
 very dear Colonel — I am with you in this warfare — God 
 bless you, sir ! " 
 
 By this time the prim Bostonian had quite lost pa- 
 tience ; he interrupted the voluble and fervent South 
 Carolinian. " Sir, I think it would be best to give up 
 this call," he said. " I have a feeling that it will end in 
 no good. My opinion is, that my nephew had better 
 send in his card and try his chance alone." 
 
 The General shook his head with energy, and con- 
 tinued to address Underhill. " Your uncle, sir — with 
 that business-like faculty which characterizes him and 
 you IsTortherners generally — has lucidly and vividly ex- 
 plained to me the object of our conjoint operation. I 
 can't express to you my sympathy with your purpose, 
 and my longings for your success. She is a most lovely 
 and noble young lady, sir. You couldn't have chosen 
 better, nor she either." 
 
 "Remember, General, that she hasn't chosen yet," 
 suggested Harry, gently. " We are a long way from 
 that." 
 
 " I understand perfectly," bowed Hilton. " Suffer- 
 ings must be forgotten. Aversions are to be overcome. 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 67 
 
 Suasion is needed. Time must do its work. My opin- 
 ion is, Colonel, that you had better keep out of sight — 
 in ambush. Your place, for the present, is in the tim- 
 ber." 
 
 " Do you think so ? " grumbled Mather, still full of 
 doubt and disgust, though there was evidently sense in 
 the General's talk. " I had hoped that the presence of 
 a young man might have some influence." 
 
 " Her brothers were young men," responded Hilton, 
 turning upon him with solemnity. He paused, lifted 
 his mangled hand and passed it across his eyes, as if to 
 brush away the mists of strong drink. There was a 
 tremulous expression of sorrowful reminiscence and of 
 tender sympathy in his masculine and naturally noble 
 countenance. He seemed to become sober at once. 
 *' It would not be well to remind her of her broth- 
 ers," he resumed, shaking his head compassionately. 
 " I wonder that the poor child keeps her reason." 
 
 " I will go," said Underbill, touched with awe and 
 pity. " It is a good deal like a funeral," he muttered, 
 as he turned away. 
 
 Hilton now took Mather's arm into his own and led 
 him slowly toward the shanty. " We are going to the 
 house of mourning," he murmured, in his deep, mellow 
 bass — a voice something like the low bellow of a bull in 
 pacific mood. " I have had a good deal of whisky to- 
 day — it is one of our unfortunate Southern habits — be- 
 sides, I am a weak, sad old fellow. But I am perfectly 
 myself at this moment. There are some bereaved per- 
 sons who are more solemnizing than the dead them- 
 selves. I never see this girl without seeing her attended 
 by the ghosts of all she loved." 
 
 " Heaven be merciful to her, and restore her reason ! " 
 
68 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 sighed Mather. " I shall leave the whole interview to 
 vou." 
 
 They approached the cabin, and were crossing the 
 little unfenced yard which separated it from the street, 
 when Aunt Chloe came solemnly forth and handed 
 Mather a package. 
 
 " I'se so sorry, Masr ! " she whispered, beginning to 
 cry. " It's de money you gin us. She won't let us 
 keep it." 
 
 The Bostonian turned excitedly upon the Carolinian, 
 as if he would hold him responsible for this act of hos- 
 tility. 
 
 " Very well, aunty," said Hilton, urbanely. " The 
 gentleman will take his money. Miss Beaufort's wishes 
 must be respected." 
 
 Mr. Mather silently pocketed his plethoric wallet 
 with the air of a man who pockets a very big insult. 
 
 "Gin'ral, she's a mighty triflin', spiled baby,' 
 whimpered Aunt Chloe. " Never see no sech behavin' 
 sence I was bawn. Mule's hind-leg longer dan his 
 ears." 
 
 " Hush ! " murmured Hilton, patting the old creat- 
 ure's shoulder. " Give my compliments to your young 
 missis, and ask her to grant us the favor of an inter- 
 view." 
 
 *' She — she wants ter be sensed, Masr," stammered 
 Chloe. " She's powerful sorry — oughter be, anyway — 
 but she wants ter be sensed." 
 
 "Tell her," broke in Mather, excitedly— " tell her I 
 shall soon leave Charleston, and this may be my last 
 opportunity to meet her in this world ! " 
 
 Mauma Chloe hesitated, and glanced timidly at the 
 General. 
 
THE BLOODY CEASM. 69 
 
 " Yes, my good aunty," he said, " step in and tell 
 her that." 
 
 The old woman limped eagerly into the cabin, softly 
 closing the door after her. Mather looked angrily at 
 Hilton, and muttered, " The girl is stark-mad ! " 
 
 " We Southerners have all been mad, sir," was the 
 grave response. " Some of us haven't yet got over it." 
 
 " How long shall you need to come to your senses ? " 
 grumbled the stalwart Unionist. 
 
 " It takes six feet of gravel to cure some frenzies. 
 I sincerely hope that this isn't one of those cases." 
 
 At this moment Aunt Chloe reappeared, slammed 
 the door violently behind her, and sobbed out : " She's 
 jess 's stubborn ! — jess 's stubborn ! — oh, ain't dat chile 
 stubborn ! Don wanter do nothin' ; don wanter see no- 
 body." 
 
 " I must say that I am a little tired of being treated 
 in this fashion," declared Mr. Mather, trembling with 
 indignation. " One would think that I was an enemy 
 and an infamous scoundrel ! " 
 
 " I wish that my apologies could suffice for you," in- 
 terposed Hilton, with melancholy urbanity. " Can you 
 accept them on her behalf — my sincere and heart-felt 
 apologies?" 
 
 " Please, Masr, don git outright mad at her," begged 
 Mauma Chloe. " Ain't so bad 's this every day. She'll 
 come round yit." 
 
 " Aunty," said the General, " step in once more, and 
 ask Miss Beaufort if she will see her father's old friend 
 Marion Hilton." 
 
70 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Aunt Chloe limped into the cabin with the mes- 
 sage, and another brief dialogue took place between the 
 General and Mather. 
 
 " This is the kind of spirit that you raise," charged 
 the petulant Unionist. " The girl is behaving just as 
 the whole South behaved." 
 
 "And suffering as the whole South suffers," sighed 
 Hilton. " My dear and good sir, isn't it just possible, 
 in view of oui* anguish, to have patience with our writh- 
 ing ? " 
 
 " Oh, well — when you put it that way — of course 
 one must try," grumbled the old gentleman. 
 
 Then Aunt Chloe reappeared, her face beaming with 
 hope, and said in a loud, eager whisper : " She's willin'. 
 Jess you go right in, Gin'ral, an' see ef you kin coax 
 her." 
 
 Hilton entered the cabin, and Mather drew Aunt 
 Chloe aside. " See here, my good woman," he muttered, 
 " I want you to take back this pocket-book. I didn't 
 give it to Miss Beaufort ; I gave it to you and your 
 brother. You are free people, and you can keep it." 
 
 Aunt Chloe hesitated for a moment. The pocket- 
 book was less of a temptation than we might suppose, 
 for the reason that all through her slave-life she had got 
 on with very little money, and her freedom had not 
 lasted long enough to impress her deeply with the value 
 of it. Nevertheless, in the present bare state of her 
 cupboard, and in her vague consciousness of the many 
 needs of her delicately nurtured young missis, the 
 pocket-book did seem very desirable. She had to pon- 
 der a little, therefore, and to set duty against desire, 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 71 
 
 before she could resist temptation and make this high- 
 minded reply : 
 
 " I knows we's free, Masr. But we can't abear fur 
 to plague Miss Ginny. Ef you'd a seen how she cried 
 an' took on, you wouldn' blame us, Masr." 
 
 "What's her objection to your having something 
 to buy necessaries with?" demanded Mather. "What 
 right has she to object ? It's inhuman." 
 
 " What we has is hern too," explained Aunt Chloe. 
 " She knows dat ar puffeckly. Ef we has your money, 
 it'll go to buy her vittle, an' den she'd be feedin' off de 
 Yankees, she said." 
 
 " But feed off it yourselves, can't you ? You are 
 both old, and need good food. Buy little bits for your- 
 selves." 
 
 " How could we eat when she wasn' eatin' ? " queried 
 the astonished Mauma. " How could we squat down to 
 chickin' an' rice when she only had hoe-cake ? O Masr, 
 me an' Phil couldn' do dat ar noways." 
 
 "I believe you are all mad together, black and 
 white," snapped the veteran abolitionist. 
 
 ^^Mebbe so," conceded Aunt Chloe, meekly. "Of 
 cose, dey's excepshums. Dar is niggers as don mind 
 'bout de folks what raised 'em. But dey is gin'rally nig- 
 gers of no 'count fam'lies ; or dey is niggers what was 
 bawn low an' mean ; dar's a mighty diff'rence in niggers. 
 But, ye see, de Beauforts was gret folks from all time ; 
 an' so de people what b'longed to 'em takes a pride in 
 stannin' by 'em ; for we gits a heap o' things, Masr, from 
 some of d' ole ban's — gets taters an' meal an' poke — an' 
 it helps powerfully. Besides, as fur Miss Ginny an' me, 
 she was my own pertickler chile — jess my own own, to 
 nuss an' fotch up." 
 
72 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 " And a pretty bringing up you made of it ! " sighed 
 Mather. 
 
 " O Masr ! you hain't seen the las' o' her ; you'll 
 see mo' an' better some day ; you'll be mighty glad an' 
 proud of her yit." 
 
 Then there was a silence for some minutes, the old 
 gentleman walking impatiently up and down the little 
 yard, and the old negress moving her lips as if in whis- 
 pered prayer. At last Mather halted by the side of 
 Aunt Chloe, and murmured : " The General stays a long 
 time. I can't but hope that he is succeeding." 
 
 " Dat's jess d' way I was feelin' myself," responded 
 the Mauma. "I'se been a-layin' it befo' the Lawd. I 
 has a hope." 
 
 Presently the General appeared, closed the door soft- 
 ly behind him, and joined the pair. They gazed at him 
 for a moment in speechless suspense and anxiety. 
 
 " I am sincerely obliged to you, Mr. Mather, for your 
 patience," he said, with grave urbanity. 
 
 " What news ? " demanded the old man, who had no 
 patience at all. " Will Miss Beaufort see me ? " 
 
 "I am extremely sorry to say, and I apologize to 
 you most heartily for it, that she still desires to be ex- 
 cused from an interview." 
 
 Mather stared in angry astonishment, and Aunt 
 Chloe fell to sobbing and moaning. 
 
 " Run in and talk to your baby, aunty," whispered 
 the General, wiping his eyes with his hand. " She is 
 crying — terribly ! " 
 
 " O Mas'r ! don' go yit ! " begged the old woman, 
 as she moved toward the cabin. " Wait till I kin say 
 one las' word to her." 
 
 " Am I to stay here all night ? " exclaimed the of- 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. Y3 
 
 fended capitalist, speaking to himself rather than 
 %o Hilton. "I don't care to be trifled with any- 
 longer." Then, recollecting his courtesy, he glanced 
 at the General and added : " I was not alluding to 
 you, sir. You have done your best to favor me, and 
 I am sincerely obliged to you. Let me ask plainly 
 what is your opinion as to this young person's inten- 
 tions ? " 
 
 " She means non-intercourse," sighed Hilton. " There 
 is, I am grieved to say, no doubt as to that." 
 
 " Did she refuse my offer — the whole of it — every 
 part of it ? " 
 
 " She declined all assistance." 
 
 " * Not a Yankee dollar ' — did she use those words ? " 
 
 The General gazed at him gravely, reflected a mo- 
 ment, and bowed in silence. 
 
 " Very well ! "—Mr. Mather feebly stamped his foot 
 here — " then I will go." 
 
 " Could you wait one moment for Aunt Chloe's re- 
 turn ? " pleaded Hilton. 
 
 Mather, who had already turned toward the street, 
 paused irresolutely, and slowly faced about. "Oh, I 
 will wait — it's of no use," he mumbled. "What did 
 Miss Beaufort say ? What was the tenor of her con- 
 versation ? " 
 
 The General shook his head repeatedly, like one who 
 recalls a very painful scene. "It was dolorous," he 
 said, in a low, compassionate tone. " I had no full idea 
 before of the soreness of her heart. Please excuse me 
 from rehearsing the interview. It can do no good. 
 Moreover, such grief is a confidence — a sacred trust. 
 Here comes Aunt Chloe." 
 
 The old negress had no amicable message to deliver. 
 4 
 
74 TEE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 She looked out, shook her head sorrowfully, and closed 
 the door again. 
 
 Mather's milky face flushed to a deep carnation, and 
 he said, in a voice trembling with renewed wrath, "I 
 have waited, you see." 
 
 " I beg that you will patiently and mercifully look 
 upon this as a temporary insanity of grief," was the 
 meek response. 
 
 " General, I thank you for your patience," said 
 Mather, suddenly reverting to courtesy. " You have had 
 need to be patient with me, as well as with her. Ah, 
 dear ! I am sadly disappointed. This shakes me. I 
 don't know that I can get home alone. Will you kindly 
 go to the hotel with me ? " 
 
 Hilton took his arm, and the two walked slowly 
 away in silence, the wooden-legged veteran supporting 
 the invalid sexagenarian. They had barely reached 
 Meeting Street when they were encountered by iJnder- 
 hill, advancing with the swift, strong step of youth, and 
 the smile of health and gayety. He presented an al- 
 most painful contrast to the two more or less crippled 
 and entirely disheartened men with whom he joined 
 himself. 
 
 "I couldn't go far away, you see," he laughed. 
 " What was the result ? " 
 
 " We return to Boston," said Mather, grimly. 
 
 Underhill glanced at his uncle, as if to see whether 
 he could bear further questioning, and then dropped 
 into silence. But Hilton, who knew less of the old 
 man's feebleness and nervous irritability, ventured to 
 protest, " I sincerely hope not at once." 
 
 " It was dreadful ! " insisted Mather. " Shocking ! " 
 
 "It was very sad, Colonel," murmured Hilton. 
 
THE BLOODY OR ASM. 75 
 
 "The house of mourning doesn't always welcome a 
 
 guest." 
 
 " Kot a Yankee dollar ! " broke out the old banker, 
 savagely repeating the phrase which at once rejected 
 his good-will and threw scorn upon the intrinsic result 
 of his life's labor. " She wouldn't even suffer those 
 faithful old negroes to accept bread from a Yankee." 
 
 He drew out his pocket-book, flourished it as if it 
 were a weapon, and then of a sudden handed it to Hil- 
 ton. "General, will you favor me by devoting this 
 money to the comfort of such needy Charlestonians as 
 will deign to make use of it ? " 
 
 " Take it, General— you will oblige him," said Un- 
 derhill, seeing that Hilton hesitated. 
 
 " Thank you for your noble gift to our poor," bowed 
 the urbane veteran. " But, Mr. Mather, let me also beg 
 for a little compassion of spirit toward this unhappy 
 
 young lady." 
 
 " I hope you won't give her up, sir," added Harry. 
 "Time will probably change her opinions and feelings." 
 
 The old man shook his head angrily and walked on 
 without speaking. But a minute or so later he looked 
 up at his nephew and said : "I'll grant her a year— per- 
 haps two years. I'll make my will as I told you, and 
 give her a year for reflection. But meanwhile let her 
 take care of herself." 
 
 When they reached the hotel Mather retired to his 
 room and sofa, broken down physically by the struggle 
 and defeat of the day. Underhill drew the General to 
 his own room, supplied him abundantly with his favor- 
 ite refreshment, and catechised him about the Beau- 
 forts. It was a subject which Hilton loved ; he had 
 many stories to tell concerning it. At first he was stern 
 
Y6 THE BLOODY CHASM, 
 
 and sad, like a stoic of the Roman Empire talking of the 
 greatness of the republic, or a prophet of the captivity- 
 recalling the glories of Zion. But, when the whisky had 
 a little mellowed his sorrow, a tint of humor and even 
 of compassionate satire stole over his reminiscences, and 
 made him amusing. 
 
 " The Colonel, Virginia's father, was not the great 
 man of his race," he said. " There was a declension in 
 the vitality and force of the breed during his incarna- 
 tion of it. His grandfather, the old General of the Rev- 
 olution, made the Beauforts. I don't know but that he 
 unmade them also. Every Beaufort since his time has 
 tried to live in his lordly style. That venerable ghost, 
 sir, has been a sort of vampire, sucking the blood of 
 prosperity out of the family. His example and his sup- 
 posed demands have done much to ruin it. Colonel 
 Beaufort, for instance, when he came to the estate, 
 found himself with three hundred thousand dollars in 
 property and two hundred thousand in debts. He 
 seemed to think, sir, that that made five hundred thou- 
 sand dollars, and he proceeded to live accordingly. He 
 kept up his city house and two country houses ; he held 
 on to both his plantations — some six thousand badly- 
 worked acres ; he entertained a score of impoverished 
 relatives, and at least another score of their attendants ; 
 he wouldn't sell one of his three hundred head of ne- 
 groes. All this he did because the old General had 
 done it ; but to do it he had to pay interest on enormous 
 loans. The result was that the year 1860 found him in 
 debt to nearly the whole extent of his property. 
 
 " Then came the war, with its wastage of substance, 
 and its depreciation of what remained. The Colonel's 
 contributions to the Confederacy were enormous. He 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 77 
 
 gave liberally at first, and the details took the rest. His 
 horses went to the front ; his cows, pigs, and poultry 
 followed them ; his live-stock was reduced to an old 
 poll-parrot. Even his sweet-potatoes and corn-nubbins 
 took up their line of march for Lee's bivouacs. His 
 carpets were gradually swept off, and cut up into blan- 
 kets for the soldiers. As for wool blankets such as 
 Beauforts had always slept under, there wasn't so much 
 of a one left as would toss a small abolitionist. The 
 damask window-curtains were made into raiment, and 
 the mulatto house-maids capered about in figured crim- 
 son. I remember Uncle Phil looking insolvently sump- 
 tuous in a suit made out of a green-and-gold piano- 
 cover. All the carriages went for ambulances, except 
 one venerable coach, the last relic of the old General's 
 personal pomp. It was an amazing spectacle, sir ; you 
 couldn't call it anything but a spectacle — there wasn't 
 an atom of use or service in it. You couldn't have vent- 
 ured to drive it out of the grounds without taking an 
 axe and a coil of rope along for repairs. Its panels 
 needed a barrel or so of paint and varnish, and its top 
 had been much disfigured by the roosting of poultry. 
 However, all that mattered little, for there were no 
 horses to draw it. There were not even any poultry to 
 roost on it. 
 
 "At last, sir, just before he died, the Colonel's spirit 
 broke a little. He was driven to sell one of his planta- 
 tions, which was painful, and, furthermore, he took the 
 pay for it, which was ruinous. When the war ended, 
 the Beauforts had in hand a vast amount of Confederate 
 bills, worth a good deal less than so much brown wrap- 
 ping-paper. It would have been no waste, but rather 
 an economy, to light fires with them, instead of with 
 
78 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 pine-knots. Then there were the debts ; the estate had 
 fairly wallowed in our Southern credit system ; it was 
 bemired in it and incrusted with it. The liberation of 
 the negroes, the only unmortgaged portion of it, left it 
 absolutely no estate at all. I judge, sir, that secession 
 cost the Colonel alone more than he supposed it would 
 cost the entire South. 
 
 "Now, you smile at this story," continued Hilton, 
 with a sigh. " I don't know that I blame you. There 
 is something ludicrous in building such immense pur- 
 poses and expectations upon such a small basis. But it 
 made a tragedy. The Beaufort history during the last 
 four years has been a long tragedy. It was awful to 
 see how fast destitution and degradation and battle 
 swept them into the other world. The poor relations 
 died for lack of sufficient nourishing food. The good 
 old Colonel — a most honorable and kind-hearted man — 
 died of a broken heart, rather than of fever. His boys 
 fell, you know how. Of all the breed there are only 
 two lean and half-crazed women left. You can pity 
 them, I am certain. Can you do anything for them ? 
 Can you bring your uncle to use further patience ? " 
 
 Underbill was greatly interested and touched. "I 
 will try," he promised. After a little reflection, he 
 added : " It isn't easy to bend him. Mild as he looks, 
 he is amazingly stubborn, once he has come to a de- 
 cision." 
 
 At this moment the pale and haggard face of Mather 
 looked into the room, and his feeble, monotonous voice 
 announced : " We shall leave to-morrow morning, Harry. 
 Be sure that everything is ready." 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM, 79 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Some weeks after Mr. Mather's departure for the 
 North, Virginia Beaufort's only aunt and surviving rel- 
 ative, a widow of some fifty years or so, named Mrs. 
 Dumont, known aforetime as Miss Anna Beaufort, 
 gave up the uninhabitable shanty which she had occu- 
 pied in Columbia, and sought shelter in the scarcely 
 inhabitable shanty in Charleston. 
 
 She brought not a dollar with her, nor any raiment 
 except the rather shabby clothing on her back, and, in 
 short, no possessions beyond her highly-valued birth- 
 right in the Beaufort blood and name. It was another 
 hungry mouth to feed, and two more not very skillful 
 hands to work. Meantime Southern prosperity had 
 not revived ; the fallen and desolated city absolutely 
 swarmed with poor ; there was little labor to be done, 
 and wages were meager. Under such circumstances it 
 may readily be supposed that the two Beaufort« and 
 their two faithful adherents were often in straits. Let 
 us glance into their wretched abode, and see what man- 
 ner of life they led. 
 
 On a certain day, which turned out to be eventful, 
 Virginia and Aunt Chloe were ironing. The young 
 lady — who had that morning washed her calico frock 
 and hung it out to dry — wore a dress of black alpaca, 
 which had seen better days, and which was her Sunday 
 garment. The sleeves were carefully tucked above her 
 elbows, revealing a pair of large, round, firm arms, a 
 little reddened by exposure and toil. Her face, though 
 still beautiful, and noticeably high-bred in expression, 
 was thinner and paler than when we saw it last. She 
 had the air of being physically jaded, and also of being 
 
80 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 depressed in spirit. A shrewd observer would have 
 guessed that she got either insuiRcient food or food of 
 a poor quality. 
 
 Behind her, seated in the rush-bottomed chair, and 
 dabbling masculine collars in a bowl of starched water, 
 was her aunt. A tallish and angular lady was Mrs. 
 Dumont, with a regularly cut but haggard countenance, 
 carelessly arranged iron-gray hair, and fierce, unquiet, 
 coal-black eyes. She had been a handsome woman 
 once, and reminiscences of beauty still lingered about 
 her, though sadly eclipsed by suffering and bitterness 
 of spirit. There was something in the shape of her fore- 
 head and in her expression which indicated a very mod- 
 erate intellectual development. A frequent gesture with 
 her was to put one hand to her breast, draw a quick 
 gasp, and roll her eyes upward. She had had abundant 
 cause during the four past years for this signal of dis- 
 tress. 
 
 " Aunt Dumont, what are you sighing about ? " de- 
 manded Virginia, turning upon her relative with just a 
 little impatience. 
 
 " It does woiTy me inexpressibly, Virginia, to see 
 you going barefoot," complained ]\irs. Dumont. Her 
 tone was dolorous, and her enunciation so deliberate as 
 to be nearly a drawl ; but, for all that, the voice had a 
 cultivated cadence, and was full and mellow ; it was 
 the pleasant voice of the South and of Beauforts. 
 
 " You must get used to it," said the girl. " I don't 
 want to wear out my one pair of shoes. I don't see the 
 slightest prospect of ever getting another." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont (smiting her breast and rolling her 
 eyes at Providence). " Oh, dear, dear, dear ! " 
 
 Aunt Ghloe. " An' she might roll in her coach, jess 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM, 81 
 
 like all cle Beauforts befo' her, 'stead o' trampin' round 
 like poo' white folks." 
 
 Virginia. " Aunt Chloe, you wear my patience hard- 
 er than I wear my shoes. It will give out, some day." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont. " Virginia must conduct herself as a 
 Beaufort, Chloe. She must never forget that she is a 
 
 Beaufort." 
 
 Virginia. " I am not likely to forget it, aunt. I 
 suppose I have had those very words said to me ten 
 thousand times. My belief is, that I began to hear them 
 before I could talk." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont. " I'm sure I don't know of anything 
 more proper to say, especially in our present humilia- 
 tion, when we are so likely to lose heart." 
 
 Virginia. " Quite proper, my dear aunt. I didn't 
 mean to be satirical." 
 
 Au7it Chloe. 'Pears to me dar's things might be said 
 what 'd f otch in mo' vittle. What we wants is words 
 what has got some nourishment in 'em." 
 
 Virginia (with a weary sigh). "Oh, yes, Mauma 
 Chloe, if a Beaufort could say them ! " 
 
 Aunt Chloe. " Poo' folks ain't reel shu' enough Beau- 
 forts. We's awful poo', Miss Ginny. De times hits 
 hard. Kwishins on mules' foots done gone out o' fashin." 
 Mrs. Dumont (fretfully). " It does appear to me that 
 Uncle Phil might earn more. If I were a man—" 
 
 Virginia. " Don't say a word against Phil. Do you 
 know, aunt, why he wasn't here to dinner ? " 
 
 Mrs. Dumont. " He was asked out ; he told me so. 
 Stuffed himself somewhere else." 
 
 Virginia. " It was because there wasn't enough for 
 us and him too. He earned our pork and corn-bread, 
 and then went and begged for himself." 
 
82 TEE BLOODY CHASM, 
 
 Mrs. Dmno7it (rolling her eyes and sighing). " Oh, 
 dear, dear, dear ! The broken-down creature ! " 
 
 Aimt Chloe. " Don you go mournin' 'bout it. Miss 
 Anna. Phil got his belly full, I reckon. (Aside.) Don 
 know, though. Dar ain't so very many bellyfuls in 
 dese yere parts sence de wah." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont shed a few tears, which were rather 
 drops of wrath than of pity. She positively could not 
 help being angry with Uncle Phil for having come short 
 of rations. The knowledge of the touching and worry- 
 ing fact was but another wound to her already sore 
 spirit. We must not consider her with condemnation, 
 nor even with wonder. Among the miserable, petulance 
 is far more common, and, for physical reasons, necessa- 
 rily more common, than sympathy. One result of the 
 poor woman's fretful grief was an access of unusual hu- 
 mility. "This is unendurable, Virginia," she sighed. 
 "At times I don't know but that you ought to write to 
 that Mather. I suppose he meant well." 
 
 " Why doesn't he write ? " demanded the girl. She 
 spoke with a very moderate degree of bitterness, as if 
 her constancy had been a little sapped by poverty. 
 
 *^ Bekase you treated him so mean," broke in Aunt 
 Chloe. " Wouldn' speak to him no mo' 'n' ef he was a 
 free nigger. Never was no decent man so treated bef o', 
 sence de good ole Dan'l." 
 
 " I think Virginia behaved very properly," said Mrs. 
 Dumont, struggling back to dignity of manner and 
 greatness of mind. " I think she behaved like a Beau- 
 fort." 
 
 " An' here she is bar'foot, like me an' Phil," grunted 
 the Mauma. 
 
 " It's a perfect shame to Mather — my own sister's 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 83 
 
 husband ! He's just like all of them. Oh, how I hate 
 those Vandals ! " 
 
 " He is not responsible for my bare feet," remarked 
 Virginia. " I refused everything." 
 
 " I hope it hurt his feelings," exclaimed the senior 
 lady, her black eyes sparkling almost savagely. " * Not 
 a Yankee dollar ! ' It was just the right thing to say to 
 him." 
 
 " Mus' hurt him powerful to keep his dollars," scoffed 
 Aunt Chloe. " Reckon he don sleep nights, dey wor- 
 ries him so." 
 
 For a time there was silence. The ironing went on 
 wearisomely and drearily. Mrs. Dumont soaked and 
 patted her collars, or sighed and rolled her eyes, by 
 turns. After some minutes she resumed the subject of 
 the Boston Vandal and his offer. 
 
 " Virginia, I don't know — I am still thinking about 
 it, my dear — I don't know but you made a mistake." 
 
 " My good aunt, I can't change my mind half a 
 dozen times a day," replied the young lady, with a mild 
 sarcasm. 
 
 " An' it's an awful pity fur you. Miss Ginny," lect- 
 ured Aunt Chloe. " Women-folks is like niggers — 
 can't have deir way much in dis yere world ; gits along 
 easier ef dey can change deir minds." 
 
 At this moment Uncle Phil, a very meager and with- 
 ered old darky m these days, wandered feebly up to 
 the cabin-door and sat down on the threshold with a 
 weary sigh. Mrs. Dumont glanced at him fretfully, 
 thinking, no doubt, that he ought to be at work. Vir- 
 ginia asked, " Did you get a good dinner, uncle ? " 
 
 " Specs so, Miss Ginny," mumbled Phil, evasively. 
 " Would'n' be likely to find a dinnah anyways but 
 
84 THE BLOODY CRASJf. 
 
 good. Never complained of no dinnah yit, when I 
 got one." 
 
 The girl eyed him sharply, and was evidently about 
 to question him further, when he suddenly exclaimed : 
 " Fo' God I f o'got. I'se gittin' so em'ty-headed ! Yere's 
 a lettah from de pose-office." 
 
 He put his shaky, horny hand into the one remain- 
 ing pocket of his wonderfully shabby cotton jacket, and 
 produced a large business envelope. Virginia hurriedly 
 tore it open and glanced through the contents of the 
 voluminous inclosure, while the others watched her 
 with the anxious eyes of wretches who dream daily of 
 marvelous interpositions of grace. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " she presently exclaimed. " Oh, this is 
 very sad ! I am sorry. I wish I had given him a kind 
 word." 
 
 " What is it ? Who ? " screamed Mrs. Dumont, in 
 the sharp voice of one tortured by suspense. ' 
 
 " Mr. Mather — he is dead ! " replied Virginia, look- 
 ing at her with a momentary solemnity, and then eager- 
 ly returning to her reading. 
 
 " As — ton — ishing ! " exclaimed the elder lady, as if 
 Yankees were a kind of monsters who lived for ever. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! I wish I had given him a word of kind- 
 ness," Virginia repeated, her eyes still running along 
 the lines. 
 
 " What do you mean, Virginia ? " begged Mrs. Du- 
 mont. " Has it ended well ? Do, for mercy's sake, 
 speak ! " 
 
 " It is amazing ! " exclaimed the girl, her face sud- 
 denly flushing crimson. " He has not changed his will. 
 I can still have that money — if I choose it." 
 
 There was a brief period of silence. The beating of 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 85 
 
 hearts was at first too violent to admit of speech. Next 
 after dumb amazement and mere pulsation of emotion 
 came the reflection, what should be done ? Then arose 
 an eager, confused, shrill talk of three excited "women, 
 as wild and dissonant as the vociferation of birds, and 
 as difficult to understand. It is impossible to report the 
 first outburst of such a conversation. The speakers con- 
 tradicted each other and themselves. In one breath, 
 for instance, Mrs. Dumont alluded to the deceased mill- 
 ionaire as " that Yankee," and in the next called him 
 "brother-in-law Mather." She had counsel after coun- 
 sel to give, and differed from herself minute by minute. 
 There was only one thing that she stuck to : " What- 
 ever you do, Virginia, I trust you will do it like a Beau- 
 fort." 
 
 "Oh, yes," the girl at last retorted, impatiently. 
 " How did they do this sort of thing ? " 
 
 " I don't know," gasped Mrs. Dumont, as helpless as 
 a child in face of the question. "But surely whatever 
 you decide to do you can remember that you are a Beau- 
 fort." 
 
 Then Aunt Chloe (who had hitherto confined herself 
 chiefly to praising God and blessing Mather) burst in- 
 dignantly into the discussion, and, with arms akimbo, 
 delivered a set speech. 
 
 " Miss Ginny, you has got to be sensible now," she 
 declared. ^' Don go to sayin' dat ar ole-time nonsense 
 over an' over. Miss Anna here talks like d' ole poll- 
 parrot. He useter holler * I'm a Buf or' ! I'm a Buf or' ! ' 
 jess 's loud 's he could screech. Laws ! he'd larned it 
 's peart 's Miss Anna. Some of the plantin' ban's use- 
 ter think he was a Beaufort, shu enough. Does ye 'mem- 
 ber him ? He had a hook nose, an' a limp like your 
 
86 TEE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 graDpa after lie got gouty. Ef dar ever was a bird 
 proud of b'longin' to a fam'ly, 'twas dat ar ole, limpin', 
 towsled poll-parrot. But de fam'ly ain't what it was. 
 Things has mightily changed with it. Dar ain't no 
 sense now hollerin' * I'm a Bufor' ! I'm a Bufor' ! ' De 
 time am come fur to quit foolin' an' talkin' bird-talk 
 'bout folks what's done gone to glory. De time am 
 come fur you to think how you's gwine ter git some mo' 
 shoes an' stockin's." 
 
 " Do hush, Chloe ! " interposed Mrs. Dumont, show- 
 ing no offense at the Mauma's satire, and indeed taking 
 no notice of it, so preoccupied was she with curiosity. 
 "I want to know more about this letter. Oh, dear ! what 
 a loss it was to break my spectacles ! Is it the young 
 gentleman who writes, Virginia? I hope his tone is 
 respectful. Of course a Yankee would be in a great 
 rage to see so much money taken out of his hands." 
 
 " It is not the young gentleman who writes," said 
 Virginia. She pondered a moment, drew herself up to 
 her full height, and added, " And the money is not taken 
 out of his hands." 
 
 " What ! " screamed Aunt Chloe, comprehending 
 with the quickness of fear. " Ain't you gwine ter take 
 anything ? O Miss Ginny ! " 
 
 Here the old creature fell to wringing her horny 
 hands and sobbing like a distressed child. 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 87 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 After a loDg silence Mrs. Dumont murmured, " It is 
 like a Beaufort " ; but she was evidently much dismayed, 
 and a tear rolled down her haggard cheek. 
 
 " I should like to read the letter — if I had my spec- 
 tacles," she added, in a shaking voice. " Are you sure, 
 Virginia, that you understand it ? Are you sure that 
 there are conditions ? " 
 
 The girl read the letter aloud. The purport of it 
 was clear enough — she could have the fortune if she 
 would take the man. 
 
 *' The question is," sighed Mrs. Dumont, and stopped 
 to meditate — "the question is," she resumed, "what 
 ought a Beaufort to do under the circumstances ? " 
 
 " Go bar'f oot," scoffed Aunt Chloe, loudly and wrath- 
 fully. 
 
 " Go hungry," echoed Uncle Phil, in a feeble, wasp- 
 ish tone, which gave notice of physical malaise and dis- 
 content. 
 
 Virginia turned upon him, eyed him sharply, and 
 asked : " What's the matter with you, uncle ? You look 
 sick." 
 
 " 'Specs likely d' ole man's dinnah distresses him," 
 said Mauma Chloe, bitterly. " Nothin' sets wuss dan 
 sour grapes." 
 
 " O Phil ! " moaned the young lady. " Didn't you 
 have any dinner ? Didn't you have any at all ? " 
 
 He tried to smile cheerfully, but there was hunger 
 in his eyes, and Virginia understood their dumb com- 
 plaint. She sat down on her washing-bench, covered 
 her face with her bare arms, like a desperate infant, and 
 sobbed convulsively. Mrs. Dumont gazed at her with 
 
88 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 an air of stately reproof, as if she wanted to say, "My 
 dear, bear it like a Beaufort." Aunt Chloe, harrowed 
 by the grief of her darling, made at her brother, and 
 demanded : " What'n you go an' tell her 'bout havin' 
 no dinnah fur ? Mus' like to make her cry." 
 
 " Fo' God, didn't tell her nuffin of de sawt," protest- 
 ed Uncle Phil, resentfully. " Twas all got up 'mongst 
 you women-folks. Dat's de kind o' jestice a man gits. 
 I gits 's much jestice as I do hoe-cake." 
 
 "Aunt Dumont," said Virginia, lifting her head 
 from her knees, " give Phil that fifty-cent piece." 
 
 " It's the last money in the house," pleaded the star- 
 tled lady. "It was for supper." 
 
 " Give it to him," insisted the girl. " We'll eat alike 
 as long as we do eat. — Phil, do you take that and buy 
 some food. I won't stop crying till you do." 
 
 She was such a domineering, beloved, spoiled, ador- 
 able pet ! they were all, black and white, accustomed 
 to yield to her every passionate desire. The old negro's 
 face was pitiful ; it was full of shame and humiliation 
 and feebleness ; he had the cringing expression of a 
 famished dog. He wanted to refuse the precious gift, 
 but he was dragged toward it by the urgent longing of 
 hunger ; and then there was the hope, of course, that 
 some other half-dollar would ere long come on the wings 
 of happy accident. 
 
 " I'se an ole man, or I wouldn' do it," he stammered 
 as he took the money. " It'll git suppah, too. Miss 
 Ginny," as he tottered out of the shanty. 
 
 " We'll have our supper to-morrow morning," said 
 Virginia. " We must go to bed early to-night — as we 
 have done before." 
 
 " Something must be done," groaned Mrs. Dumont. 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 89 
 
 " I don't know, Virginia — of course it is very dreadful 
 — ^but Providence seems to be driving us to it — I don't 
 know but you ought to — accept." 
 
 " Dar, Miss Ginny ! " exclaimed Aunt Chloe, joyfully. 
 " Do give in ! Why, its jess mirac'lous. Never heerd 
 Miss Anna talk so much sense befo'." 
 
 "I shall have to take him," moaned Virginia. She 
 burst into a hysterical laugh, and added, " For Uncle 
 Phil's sake." 
 
 " Glory to God ! " shouted the delighted Mauma. 
 *' Oh, de Lawd bless your innocent, sweet soul, my own 
 blessed baby ! You has some sense, after all, if you is 
 a bawn lady. Blessed be God dat he fotched us down 
 to fifty cents ! Dar's no cure for an em'ty head like an 
 em'ty puss." 
 
 " And do you really mean it, my child ? " asked Mrs. 
 Dumont, vainly striving to dissemble her satisfaction. 
 
 "I — mws^," was the desperate response. 
 
 Mrs. Dumont's eyes sparkled joyfully ; nevertheless, 
 she pursed her lips with gravity and dignity ; then came 
 the matured and weighty judgment : " Virginia, I don't 
 know but you have made a mistake." 
 
 " Oh, my dear aunt ! let us think one thing or the 
 other." 
 
 " I want you always," pursued the dear aunt, trying 
 to whimper, " always to think and act> like a Beaufort." 
 
 "Dar goes d' ole poll-parrot agin," broke in Aunt 
 Chloe, out of patience with this unpractical gabble. 
 " Never no Beauf orts what I ever heerd of let deirselves 
 starve when dar was vittle handy." 
 
 Virginia uttered one of those bursts of spasmodic 
 and mistimed laughter which betoken hysteria or des- 
 peration of spirit. *'I am the first Beaufort that ever 
 
90 TEE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 went hungry," she said. "I have fasted enough for the 
 whole breed. I never will keep Lent again as long as I 
 live." 
 
 *' Yir — gin — ia ! " screamed Mrs. Dumont, who was 
 a very churchly person. " How recklessly you talk ! 
 I believe you have lost your senses. The Beauforts 
 have always respected the ordinances." 
 
 Uncle Phil now reappeared with a large piece of 
 corn-cake in one hand, another not very much smaller 
 piece in his mouth, and something like a buckler of the 
 same under his arm. 
 
 " Yere's fur twenty," he mumbled. " An' yere's 
 twenty dollars. Miss Ginny. General Hilton he met up 
 with me an' tole how it was somethin' he collected for 
 ye out'n what was owin' to yer father." 
 
 The girl took the bills with hesitation. " Why didn't 
 he keep it himself ? " she said. " My father's estate is 
 indebted to him for thousands of dollars." 
 
 "Virginia, that has nothing to do with it," struck in 
 Aunt Dumont. " This was owing to you, and, of course. 
 General Hilton ought to pay it, and it is your duty to 
 keep it. His own bill is entirely another matter. When 
 he sends that, we will see about it," concluded the good 
 lady as composedly as if she had thousands in bank. 
 
 " It is a pure charity," declared Virginia, who was 
 far from suspecting, by-the-way, that it was a dole out 
 of the Mather pocket-book. " However — it is food — I 
 must take it." 
 
 " Aunt Chloe, hand me a bit of that corn-cake," was 
 Mrs. Dumont's next remark. She could have got it 
 herself easily, but she had not altogether lost the state- 
 ly habit of bygone days, and retained an almost auto- 
 matic preference for being waited on. "I feel," she 
 
TEE BLOODY CEASM. 91 
 
 added, as she commenced eating heartily — " I feel a little 
 empty-headed." 
 
 " 'Specs likely, Miss Anna," responded Chloe, wheth- 
 er satirically or not it was difficult to say. She gave 
 a large piece to Mrs. Dumont, and then pressed a still 
 larger one upon Virginia, who was surveying the coarse 
 edible with an interest which any one unused to scenes 
 of hunger would have found wofully pathetic. Lastly, 
 the unselfish soul helped herself, and devoured like an 
 earthquake. 
 
 "You didn' miss much in missin' our dinnah, ole 
 man," she said to her brother. " 'Twan't enough for 
 one Yankee's dog." 
 
 " Greedy Yandals ! " mumbled Mrs. Dumont, with 
 her mouth full. " Fattening on our possessions ! " 
 
 "Ef dat was all dey had," gobbled Aunt Chloe, 
 " 't wouldn't make 'em 'possum-fat." 
 
 " How food does restore one's spunk and self-re- 
 spect ! " said Virginia, smiling over her slice of toasted 
 dough. " I feel as if I had on shoes and stock- 
 mgs. 
 
 Then Mrs. Dumont broke out with a prediction that 
 this payment of twenty dollars would prove to be the 
 beginning of a turn in the family fortunes. If General 
 Hilton had begun to collect, there was no reason why 
 he should stop. She had faith to believe that the Beau- 
 forts would recover all they had lost. 
 
 "Da 's jess d' way 'tis," corroborated Uncle Phil. 
 " Gin'ral Hilton he said dis yere money wasn' all — said 
 dar was as much mo' a-comin' — anyhow, kinder hoped 
 so." 
 
 " As much more ! " exclaimed Mrs. Dumont. " I 
 should think so ! Ever so much more ! Two hundred 
 
92 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 thousand dollars, at least. — Virginia, I do hope you 
 won't be hasty." 
 
 "Don you be a spiled baby now," eagerly coun- 
 seled Mauma Chloe, addressing her pet. " Don you go 
 fur to mind Phil's nonsiuse. Wish he'd choke hisself 
 with hoe-cake ! " 
 
 " I wish the Yankee was to marry you, Aunt Du- 
 mont," laughed Virginia. 
 
 " Horrors ! I wouldn't have him ! " screamed the 
 elder lady, as much in earnest as if the thing were pos- 
 sible, and perhaps much more so. 
 
 " And yet you counsel ??ie," exclaimed the girl, flush- 
 ing with sudden passion. 
 
 " Nothing of the sort," interrupted Mrs. Dumont. 
 *'I did not. It was your own notion. What I said 
 was, don't make a mistake. I leave it to Aunt Chloe." 
 
 " Oh, what shall I do ? " cried the haughty, sensitive, 
 vehement, unreasonable child, the product of genera- 
 tions of grandeeism and years of civil war. " The idea 
 fills me with loathing — the mere idea of this match. 
 My very name seems to forbid it." 
 
 " Yes," whimpered Aunt Dumont — " all the Beau- 
 forts who fell fighting those wretches ! — O Virginia, 
 think of them ! " 
 
 However absurd her talk might be under the circum- 
 stances, and whether the poor lady desired the Under- 
 bill marriage or not, it was clear enough that she was 
 quite sincere in her grief and hatred. Her emotion 
 aroused all the passion which lay in the ardent nature 
 of her niece. 
 
 " Think of them ! " she replied, in a high, wild tone. 
 " I do ! They are never out of my thoughts. I canH 
 marry a Yankee." 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 93 
 
 " Dar ain't no Yankee ast you yit," stormed in Aunt 
 Chloe, trembling with disappointment and grief. " You's 
 got to wait till you's ast." 
 
 " I shall wait — and wait after that ! " declared the 
 girl. 
 
 The old Mauma collapsed into a whimper. " Ain't 
 you gwine to write to him ? " she pleaded. 
 
 "No!" 
 
 There was a brief silence. Mrs. Dumont, who per- 
 ceived that she had vindicated her character as a good 
 Southerner at a frightful expense, looked considerably 
 dismayed. " I don't know, Virginia," she stammered — 
 " after all, I don't know— but this may be a mistake. I 
 advise you not to be hasty. You are always so hasty ! " 
 
 " Haven't I decided like a Beaufort ? " retorted the 
 niece, impatiently, not to say scornfully. 
 
 " Oh, yes," sighed the perplexed and worried aunt. 
 « But — if General Hilton shouldn't collect — what is to 
 become of us ? " 
 
 " Just what has become of all the other Beauf orts. 
 We shall die, when we do die, honorably." 
 
 It was not ranting ; it was the sullen utterance of 
 grief and pride and desperation ; it had a dismal accent 
 of finality. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A coNSiDEEABLE time slipped by without bringing 
 to the affairs of the Beauforts any change worthy of 
 record. 
 
 No further word arrived from the executors of Mr, 
 Mather. They had fully explained in their one letter 
 
94 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 that they were empowered to advise Miss Beaufort of 
 the conditions of the will, and also to mail her a liberal 
 advance in case she assented to those conditions. Hav- 
 ing made this formal and adamantine statement, they 
 had fallen back into silence and mystery. 
 
 Mysterious, also, and to an even more perplexing 
 and exasperating degree, remained Mr. Harry Underbill. 
 Far from offering hand and heart, far from throwing 
 himself in hot haste at the feet of the Beauf orts, he did 
 not write a line. It began to look as if this irrational, 
 low Yankee did not hanker after the noble alliance 
 which had been arranged for him. Exasperating sus- 
 picions arose that he looked upon it as a matter of no 
 consequence, which he might attend to at his leisure, or 
 possibly leave entirely unnoticed. There were shame- 
 faced anxieties lest he had fallen in love with some one 
 else ; there were even unnatural terrors lest the abomi- 
 nated Vandal might be dead. 
 
 Meantime, the wolf of poverty went in and out of 
 the cabin at his ease. The heroine of our story was 
 daily driven to marvel and shudder at the bigness of 
 his mouth. Jobs of work were few, and the wage there- 
 of scant. The pocket-book, which had been intrusted 
 to General Hilton, drawn upon as it was by the many- 
 headed pauperism of Charleston, eventually ran empty. 
 As for the Beaufort estate, not only were its debits far 
 superior to its credits, but the latter could not be gath- 
 ered in by any industry of attorneys. The situation 
 was very like that of the Irish squire who said, " Sir, if 
 I could collect my debts — and by my debts I mean what 
 I owe to other people — I should be in easy circum- 
 stances." 
 
 Things being thus with the denizens of Mauma Chloe's 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 95 
 
 shanty, it is not wonderful that they should often dis- 
 cuss the Mather testament. A day came — Virginia and 
 Mrs. Dumont and Chloe being present — when they had 
 an unusually full and decisive interchange of views on 
 the subject. 
 
 " I can't help thinking about it," sighed the senior 
 Beaufort lady. " It is dreadful not to know anything 
 at all of a matter which concerns us so much." 
 
 Virginia. " It seems like something which happened 
 in my childhood, or to somebody else. It is fading out 
 of memory." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont. " Such struggling and pinching ! it 
 is enough to fade out everything. Oh, what grubbing 
 and pinching! 80 degrading ! " 
 
 Virginia. " They talk about the war being over. It 
 isn't over for the widows and orphans." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont (spitefully). " No, and never will be ! 
 How can it be ? " 
 
 Aunt Chloe. " Keeps it up deirselves — some on 'em. 
 Blessed is de peacemakers. Does you 'spose wah-mak- 
 ers is blessed, too ? " 
 
 Mrs. Dumont. " I'm sure God ought not to starve 
 us. We work hard enough — and I've begged, too — act- 
 ually asked charity — a bom lady ! " 
 
 Aunt Chloe (aside). "An' a bawn goose, too. La- 
 dy enough, but goose too much." 
 
 Virginia. " Chloe, I wish you wouldn't mutter. 
 Everything irritates me." 
 
 Aunt Chloe. " It's dumb ager — comes o' workin' 
 befo' breakfuss." 
 
 Virginia. "How else are we to have breakfast? 
 Oh, dear ! how are we to have it to-morrow morning ? 
 Only a few cents left ! " 
 
96 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 Aunt Chloe. " Dar's enough fur you to send a lettah 
 to Bosting an' say you's willin' to be richer'n King Sol- 
 omon." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont. " And abandon her commanding po- 
 sition ! — O Virginia, your attitude is so noble ! No 
 other girl in the South is scorning such a fortune for the 
 sake of Southern principles. Only a Beaufort could do 
 it. Still, you may have to bend, if General Hilton 
 doesn't collect. Why doesnH he attend to his business ? 
 There are thousands of dollars owing us — thousands on 
 thousands of dollars. Oh, if I were a man ! " 
 
 Virginia. " General Hilton can't make his own col- 
 lections, I fear. He dresses very shabbily — nothing but 
 old homespun." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont (loftily). " It is the dress of heroes 
 and gentlemen ! " 
 
 Aunt Chloe. " An' niggers. You don see no Yan- 
 kees in dose kind o' does. Reckon homespun's out o' 
 fashion in Bosting. — Miss Ginny, dere you is barefoot 
 agin ! You'll run a nail inter you' foot some day." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont (shuddering). " O Virginia ! lock- 
 jaw ! We shall ha'oe to give up. We shall have to 
 swallow our pride and hate." 
 
 Aunt Chloe. "Dar ain't much else to swaller. 
 Mighty poo' f eedin' dey is, too. Mule can't live on his 
 own kickin'." 
 
 There was an interval of silence, only broken by the 
 dull thump of the irons on the ironing-table, and by the 
 frequent sighs of Mrs. Dumont. Then the dreary, wea- 
 risome, contradictory conversation resumed its uncer- 
 tain course, now flowing in a current of assent to the in- 
 evitable, and now whirling into eddies of aversion and 
 revolt. 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 97 
 
 " Why doesn't he write to me ? " complained Vir- 
 ginia, alluding, of course, to Underhill. " Does he mean 
 that I shall say the first word ? That is a man's business.'^ 
 
 " So haughty and cruel ! " snapped Mrs. Dumont. 
 "He means to roll us in the dust. Brother-in-law 
 3Iather was decent compared to this creature. He 
 wants to humble the Beauforts. That is Yankee hu- 
 manity and courtesy, I suppose ! I don't believe there 
 is one chivalrous family— not one family at all like ours 
 — in the whole North." 
 
 "Miss Lizabeth was a Beaufort," remarked Aunt 
 Chloe. " She didn' take no shame to marry a Yankee." 
 
 " Oh, my poor sister ! " interrupted Mrs. Dumont. 
 " How she must have suffered among those people ! 
 "What a mistake she made ! " 
 
 "She was de brightest an' sensiblest of d'hull 
 fam'ly," declared Aunt Chloe, stoutly. 
 
 "She was a very superior woman," agreed Mrs. Du- 
 mont. proudly. " She must have been a very queen in 
 Boston. Poor Elizabeth ! I never saw her but twice 
 after that unhappy marriage. She looked healthier and 
 more cheerful than I expected. She bore up under it as 
 only a Beaufort could." 
 
 " Reckon 'twan't no gret affliction in it," opined the 
 Mauma. " Didn' have to live on hoe-cake an' go bar'- 
 legged." 
 
 At this point Virginia, who had apparently been 
 carrying on a sad and stern meditation, broke out in her 
 impassioned way : " Aunt Dumont ! shall I write ? " 
 
 " O child ! what can a relative say ? Remember 
 who you are," was the enlightening resj^onse. 
 
 "An' kinder 'member, too, what you've got," added 
 Aunt Chloe, surlily. 
 5 
 
98 THE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 " I don't love him," said Virginia, much as if she 
 had been trying to, and regretted that she could not. 
 Then, bursting into a sardonic laugh, she added, " Who 
 ever asked me to ? " 
 
 " It's a shame," affirmed Mrs. Dumont, with severe 
 emphasis — " it's a burning shame that he treats you so ! 
 He ought to have written at once. A South Carolina 
 gentleman would have done that. Well, perhaps not 
 to a Yankee girl," she subjoined, on reflection. " No, in- 
 deed — of course not ! " she concluded with proper spirit. 
 
 " This is such nonsense ! " exclaimed Virginia, im- 
 patiently. " I mean my hesitation is nonsensical," she 
 explained, remembering her aunt's feelings. " I yynist 
 write, and I wilV* 
 
 " Oh, my child ! what are you going to write ? — 
 what ? " asked Mrs. Dumont, pressing her hand con- 
 vulsively to her breast and rolling up her eyes. 
 
 " I shall say that I consent to the marriage," replied 
 the girl, meanwhile searching the drawer of the ironing- 
 table for her meager stock of writing materials. 
 
 *' Oh, mercy ! " gasped the elder lady. " To think 
 of a Beaufort coming to that ! " 
 
 " Shall I refuse, then ? " demanded Virginia, sullenly. 
 
 " No, no ! I didn't say so. Dear, dear, dear ! how 
 shall we put it ? On reflection, my dear, I think you 
 have put it very delicately ; it is as though the proposal 
 had come from him, the ungentlemanly fellow ! Yes, 
 say consent — that is the very word." 
 
 " I shall not disguise my feelings," continued Miss 
 Beaufort, looking up nobly from her one sheet of note- 
 paper already spread on the ironing-board. "I shall 
 tell him frankly that I accept the alliance solely because 
 of my poverty and that of my family." 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 99 
 
 " Don' you go fur to tell hira no sech foolish non- 
 sinse ! " protested Aunt Chloe. " Tell him you likes 
 him ; say you's a-dyin' fur him." 
 
 Virginia's solemn and lofty tone changed into a 
 burst of girlish laughter, perhaps a little nervous and 
 hysterical in its foundational nature. " Why, you old 
 goose ! " she giggled, " I never saw him. He wouldn't 
 believe it." 
 
 " Bet you he would. Dey allays doos, de men- 
 folks," asserted Chloe. 
 
 " I shall tell him that I demand nothing of him per- 
 sonally," pursued Virginia, resuming her serious mood. 
 "I shall tell him that I leave him his entire freedom." 
 
 " What ! " stared Mrs. Dumont. " Live apart ? That 
 would be very unusual — in a Beaufort. Besides, he 
 might take offense, my dear. Do be careful." 
 
 " I thought you had an aversion to the match," said 
 the girl, losing patience. " I thought you objected to 
 it." 
 
 " O Virginia, you quite misunderstand my posi- 
 tion," declared the elder lady in that sugared tone of 
 pacification which is so hard to bear, because it inti- 
 mates that the person addressed has an unreasonable 
 spirit and a peevish temper. " What I think is that, 
 under the circumstances — our present dreadful circum- 
 stances — you may have to — to bend. If Elizabeth 
 could bear it, you can, my dear." 
 
 " ]^ow dat's human talk, dat ar is," approved Aunt 
 Chloe. " D' ain't no poll-parrot in all dat. As fur Miss 
 Ginny not wantin' to be married, never heerd no gal 
 talk different. Smart dog always allow he can't bear 
 sheep-meat." 
 
 " Of course I grieve for you," continued Mrs. Du- 
 
100 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 mont, striving in vain to shed a tear. " Snch a sacri- 
 fice ! Ah, dear ! " 
 
 " O Miss Anna ! do stop you' mouf," interrupted 
 the old negress, exceedingly troubled and angered. 
 " Wish you was little enough to be spanked." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont was horrified ; she really did weep 
 now. " I never thought," she sobbed, " to be so ad- 
 dressed by one of our own people." 
 
 " I can't help it, Miss Anna," apologized Aunt Chloe, 
 whimpering also. " I'se so mad to see Beauf orts hungry 
 an' bar'legged ! I don bust out so 'cause I'se free. I 
 hain't got no mo' rights nor I had befo' the wah. I 
 allays did have a right to speak up fur Beauf orts, even 
 agin deirselves." 
 
 "Never mind, Chloe," returned Mrs. Dumont, who 
 was as much of a lady as one well could be with her 
 parts. " I know you are faithful, and mean to be re- 
 spectful. I shall remember you for it," she promised 
 with an air of munificence. — " And now, Virginia, as to 
 that match. I should be sorry to see it broken off 
 now." 
 
 " Oh, of course," said the girl, ironically. " It would 
 be a pity to break it off. Such a scandal ! " 
 
 " An' you means to tell him you ain't gwine ter live 
 with him ? " demanded Aunt Chloe. 
 
 " Yes, plainly and firmly ; that is what I shall tell 
 him." 
 
 The widow shook her experienced head. " I think, 
 Virginia," she hesitated — " wouldn't it be better to tell 
 him so, plainly and firmly, of course, but aftericardf'' 
 
 " O aunt ! " stared the niece. " What a Yankee 
 trick ! You seem to forget that I am a South Caroli- 
 nian and a Beaufort." 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 101 
 
 "Fox like to go to church, ef he kin walk home 
 with chicken," grinned Aunt Chloe. 
 
 Mrs. Dumont looked extremely confused. There 
 was a silence for a minute or two. Then the fatiguing 
 dialogue dribbled on once more. 
 
 Virginia (looking up from her writing). "I— can- 
 not — live with him." 
 
 Aunt Chloe (with arms akimbo). "Is you a grown 
 woman, or a baby ? Does you s'pose a grown-up man 
 — a man as wears britches an' tail-coats — is a-gwine ter 
 agree not to marry his wife ? You two's jess talkin' 
 like folks in a di'eam." 
 
 3frs. Dumont. "Z didn't propose it, Chloe. I 
 didn't propose this absurd plan. Of course, I hope he 
 will accept it. He may. Just consider what an honor 
 even that is to him ! We might concede something. 
 "We might allow him to take the Beaufort name." 
 
 Virginia (writing). " Aunt, how could I live with 
 him ? Remember my poor brothers. You loved them. 
 — And you loved them too, Chloe, didn't you ? " 
 
 Aunt Chloe. "I loves you a heap better, chile. I 
 wants you to write a sonsible lettah, an' not put in no 
 poll-parrot talk." 
 
 Virginia (laughing bitterly). "I am writing my 
 offer of marriage. That ought to satisfy you." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont (smiting her breast). " Oh, my dear ! 
 my poor dear ! Are you quite determined ? " 
 
 Virginia (tartly). " I am." 
 
 3frs. Dumont. " O Virginia ! you are always so ir- 
 ritable when I make a remark, but I can't help saying I 
 hope you are not making a mistake." 
 
 Aimt Chloe. " Now you wants her to, an' now you 
 don want her to. Question is yere, what does he want ? " 
 
102 THE BLOODY CHASM, 
 
 Virginia. " Just so, Chloe. But we shall know that. 
 The letter is written." 
 
 3frs. Duniont. " Oh, dear, dear, dear ! Shall we 
 send it?" 
 
 Aunt Chloe. "A pusson would s'pose. Miss Anna, 
 de young gen'leman was a-gwine ter marry bofe of 
 you." 
 
 " There ! " exclaimed Virginia. She had finished 
 the letter, and the superscription thereof. As she looked 
 at it, the full sense of what it included and might in- 
 clude seemed to come into her mind, for a deep blush 
 of womanly modesty suddenly flooded her whole face, 
 and her eyes sank to the floor. For a moment she sat 
 shrinking and irresolute ; then she rose in silence and 
 put on her frayed and faded hat. 
 
 " It 7yiust go," she gasped, without glancing at either 
 her aunt or her old nurse. " I will mail it myself, to 
 make sure." 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The first consequence of Yirginia Beaufort's letter 
 was that Underhill at once made a rapid journey to 
 Charleston. 
 
 Immediately on his arrival, he looked up General 
 Hilton, the lawyer and devoted friend of the Beauforts, 
 and, not finding him at his ofiice, left a pressing mes- 
 sage, begging him to call at the hotel. During the 
 evening, therefore, the wooden-legged veteran stumped 
 into the young man's private parlor. 
 
 The meeting was friendly and courteous, but slight- 
 ly ceremonious. Underhill, naturally frank and easy 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 103 
 
 and genial in manner, showed a seriousness almost 
 amounting to anxiety, and spoke with unusual elab- 
 orateness of address. Hilton, who had not even the 
 smell of whisky upon him, behaved as if he had gone 
 into training for the interview. He evidently realized 
 that he had before him a capitalist, and a person who 
 could weightily influence the fate of one whom he held 
 very dear. Self -respectful as a gentleman should be, 
 and dignified in bearing by habit and by the gift of an 
 imposing figure, he was even more carefully urbane than 
 common, as well as more reserved and watchful. He 
 bowed, shook hands, smiled, and said : "You wanted to 
 see me. Colonel. I am very much indebted to you. The 
 wish is a compliment." 
 
 " General, you oblige me greatly by calling," was 
 the young man's response. " I had no doubt, of course, 
 that you would favor me. You were very courteous to 
 me during my former visit." 
 
 " Don't mention it," begged Hilton. 
 
 " You may suppose that I wouldn't have risked put- 
 ting you to this trouble for any slight matter," pursued 
 Underhill. " I wanted a long and private conversation 
 concerning your friends and my connections, the Beau- 
 forts." 
 
 " I suspected as much. I am exceedingly gratified 
 
 to make sure of it." 
 
 "You remember my uncle's talk about his will, I 
 presume. Well, he actually made it— the strangest 
 will — the maddest — " 
 
 " Excuse me ; I hope no offense, but I know all 
 about it. As the legal adviser and old friend of the 
 family, you understand." 
 
 " Very proper. They did quite right to consult you. 
 
104 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 Well, I have received — " Here the young gentleman 
 hesitated ; he did not know how much Hilton knew of 
 the matrimonial imbroglio ; he found it embarrassing 
 to unveil what might be a young lady's secret. 
 
 " Yes, you received an assent from Miss Beaufort," 
 added the General. " Pardon me for being so well in- 
 formed." 
 
 " Oh, very good ! " nodded Harry, drawing a sigh 
 of relief and dropping his ceremoniousness. " Glad you 
 know all. Saves explanations." 
 
 " And you will try to see her, may I hope ? " in- 
 quired Hilton. 
 
 Underhill pondered. "I am sorry for this young 
 lady," he said at last. " If this marriage doesn't take 
 place, she gets nothing. My uncle did a very strange 
 and very cruel thing. I sometimes think that he was 
 in reality a little insane." 
 
 " It is a common saying among lawyers that a man 
 frequently saves up all his lunacy for his last will and 
 testament. Well, it was a cruel will, since you permit 
 me to say so." 
 
 " Very hard on her — his wife's niece — very hard ! 
 All the more so as I don't lose my half if I refuse the 
 marriage." 
 
 " There was no reason why you should," conceded 
 the General. But he looked very sad, for he could not 
 help discerning that Underhill was not inclined to the 
 match, and a fear came upon him that his pet, the last 
 of the Beauforts, was doomed to a life of penury. 
 
 " Well, now," resumed the younger man, " you know 
 the terms of Miss Beaufort's letter, I suppose. Don't 
 you think she rides a rather high horse ? " 
 
 "I want you to pardon the poor, inexi^erienced 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 105 
 
 child, if possible. Please consider how she has been 
 tortured : a girlhood of poverty, and calamity, and 
 mourning ; property lost — brothers lost ! " 
 
 " Oh, I know all that. Am I responsible ? " 
 
 " It would be useless to open a discussion on that 
 
 point." 
 
 " Oh, quite so. My question was absurd. I will try 
 
 to look at the matter practically." 
 
 The General bowed his thanks ; he continued to be 
 very polite, almost submissive. "I concede that her 
 terms are quixotic," he went on. *' But how long will 
 she insist upon them ? At her age people change their 
 ideas easily. Moreover, she is honorable, particularly 
 high-minded. I think she will soon become ashamed of 
 receiving much and giving nothing. It is not Southern 
 fashion ; it is not Beaufort fashion." 
 
 "All that is true enough, I presume," admitted Un- 
 derhill. Then he added with a light smile, " And there 
 would be something poetic, too, in a fellow courting his 
 own wife, if he could make her acquaintance." 
 
 The General smiled also, but rather sorrowfully. 
 " I don't like to laugh about it," he said, gently. " It 
 is to my mind a serious and sad affair." 
 
 "Well, that depends somewhat upon Miss Beaufort. 
 Do you think she will insist upon her programme— meet, 
 marry, and separate ? " 
 
 Hilton gazed at the young man, gravely and without 
 speaking. He clearly knew that the girl would so in- 
 sist, and dreaded to avow it. 
 
 "Yery well," Underhill laughed, with some natural 
 petulance. " Then I shall get on as best I can without her." 
 
 "I am extremely grieved, sir. I am not surprised, 
 of course." 
 
106 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 " This drives me to look up my Irish nightingale, or 
 some other nightingale that is willing to sing," pursued 
 the young man. " I really did and do want a musical 
 wife, so far as I want one at all." 
 
 The General made no reply, and appeared so exceed- 
 ingly cast down, that the Colonel pushed forward a de- 
 canter of whisky and urged him to try the quality of it. 
 
 " Thank you ! " sighed Hilton, shaking his head. 
 " But do me the very great favor to excuse me. I have 
 lately taken a resolution to evade that sort of inspira- 
 tion when I have serious matters to think of. I have 
 learned that alcohol is a poor counselor, and I begin to 
 doubt whether it is a good consoler. This affair lies 
 very near my heart, and I prefer to treat it without 
 whisky. " 
 
 But Underbill had apparently determined not to talk 
 any more about the Beaufort alliance. " Miss Macmor- 
 ran is here still, isn't she?" he asked. "Have you 
 heard her sing yet ? " 
 
 " Do you mean the soprano of St. Patrick's ? I have 
 had the pleasure not of hearing her sing but of speaking 
 with her." 
 
 " Ah, General ! Lucky dog ! Take care ! I may 
 make a personal matter of it." 
 
 " I have had twenty years of marriage. Colonel," 
 said Hilton, seriously. " When a man alights at the end 
 of such a journey as that he feels like asking if people 
 ever marry twice, just as Lord Chesterjfield asked if peo- 
 ple ever hunted twice. I don't mean that I was unhap- 
 py — far from it ! But marriage is a struggle — that is, 
 for a poor gentleman. One such jaunt is enough for a 
 lifetime." 
 
 Underbill gazed at him with the vague sympathy 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 107 
 
 and respect which the novice accords to the tried vet- 
 eran. "I know nothing of struggles," he confessed. 
 " I feel like a small fellow, compared with those who 
 have had them. Miss Macmorran has struggled, and I 
 admire her for it. What did you think of her. General ?" 
 
 Hilton could not have wanted to eulogize the pretty 
 Irish singer just then, but he was too honest and high- 
 minded to say anything but the truth, or anything short 
 of the truth. " She is a very modest and i^leasing young 
 lady," he declared. 
 
 " Isn't she ! " smiled Underhill, obviously gratified. 
 " What a sweet, nun-like way she has of casting down 
 her eyes, just lifting them shyly to your face when you 
 speak, and then dropping them ! It is prodigiously fas- 
 cinating. I think that girl, in spite of defects of edu- 
 cation, might make an admirable wife — such a gentle, 
 meek wife as men dream of." 
 
 The General had a troubled air of carrying on a per- 
 plexing discussion with himself. There was apparently 
 something on his mind which he wished to say, while he 
 doubted whether it would be fair and gentlemanly to 
 say it. At last, with an apologetical smile, he contin- 
 ued, " I saw her family, also." 
 
 " What ! " laughed the Colonel. " You went to her 
 house and she let you in ! You must have some talis- 
 man." 
 
 " I was caught by a storm of rain. Miss Macmor- 
 ran was thoughtful enough to offer shelter to a limping 
 old fellow." 
 
 " Lucky storm ! I wish I could find one in that 
 neighborhood. You must know that I never have been 
 allowed to call on her. Well, what were her surround- 
 ings ? " 
 
108 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 '•'The young lady is the pearl of the family, Colonel. 
 She seems out of place in it." 
 
 " Oh," muttered Underhill, " the others are rather 
 common, I suppose. I never saw them." 
 
 " The mother is a worn woman — has done a srood 
 deal of washing, I fancy ; her rounded back tells the 
 plaintive story of labor — hard and long labor." 
 
 " Gracious ! I hadn't guessed a mother — a washer- 
 woman mother." 
 
 "There is a sister, also — a hard-featured, strongly 
 built person of thirty — who is at service in a Northern 
 family here, as I understood." 
 
 Underhill absolutely blushed. The sister of his St. 
 Cecilia at service ! One's own possible sister-in-law ! 
 *' It's perfectly dreadful," he grumbled, " to think of 
 that sweet girl dans cette galere ! " 
 
 " It reminds one of an angel with human relatives," 
 answered the General, expressing himself with poetic 
 delicacy, though he could not have been ill pleased with 
 the impression which he had produced. " They are en- 
 tirely decent people. Colonel, and honorably self -respect- 
 ful. I was pleased to see that they were not ashamed 
 of their humble interior, and that Miss Macmorran was 
 not ashamed of her own flesh and blood. But, as a fam- 
 ily, they are not of our sort." 
 
 "Of course, I might have supposed all this," resumed 
 the young man, after a moment of brooding. " In fact, 
 I did suppose something of the kind, but not with any 
 distinctness or reality ; couldn't make a clear picture 
 of it — didn't want to. The truth is, that I have been 
 idealizing that girl, and idealizing everything about her. 
 If you like fine music, you can understand it. Well, I 
 must stop making poetry on that subject. I meant to 
 
TEE BLOODY CEASM. 109 
 
 go and see Miss Macmorran, if the little nun would let 
 me. But I mustn't. It couldn't come to any good." 
 
 "No, you mustn't go there," said Hilton, with the 
 smile of a good-hearted senior addressing a hot-headed 
 junior whom he admires for worthy qualities. "You 
 don't want to turn that good child's head merely for 
 your passing amusement." 
 
 "It would be shabby, General,"- Underbill sighed. 
 "I can't be shabby. Once an officer and gentleman, 
 always an officer and gentleman." 
 
 " I wish you were a South Carolinian, Colonel," de- 
 clared Hilton, with honest fervor. " But, merely as a 
 brother man and brother soldier, I am proud of you." 
 
 Underbill laughed cheerfully. He was evidently 
 gratified by the compliment. " General, you are too 
 much for me," he said. " You make me want to do 
 something noble. Well, now, since this subject is closed 
 for ever, let us talk once more of my uncle's project." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 To General Hilton it must have seemed a little like 
 sacrilege to change the conversation so abruptly from 
 the daughter of a washer- woman to the daughter of one 
 of the noblest families of the Palmetto State. He 
 probably had irritable reflections concerning the obtuse- 
 ness of Northern democracy, and the ingrained lack of 
 delicacy in the Yankee nation. On the other hand, as 
 he was a peculiarly self-possessed and rational gentle- 
 man, he no doubt remembered that Underbill must 
 regard Virginia Beaufort as an embarrassing and even 
 
110 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 hostile personage, and exhibited at least good-nature in 
 being able to talk of her without vindictiveness. At 
 all events, his countenance and demeanor revealed nei- 
 ther vexation, nor surprise, nor impatience. He gazed 
 tranquilly and blandly at the young man, while waiting 
 with keen anxiety for him to speak. 
 
 " As for Miss Beaufort," resumed Underbill, " can 
 I see her ? " 
 
 The General took from his breast-pocket a large en- 
 velope, tenderly drew therefrom an " imperial " photo- 
 graph, and laid it on the table between them. It was 
 his own valued copy, paid for out of his own beggarly 
 pocket, of the likeness of the beautiful ultimate Beau- 
 fort. Underbill bent over it with an expression which 
 rapidly changed from curiosity to admiration. Hilton 
 watched him with anxiety, and then smiled with simple, 
 honest, sympathetic pleasure. 
 
 " She is handsomer than I supposed," murmured the 
 young fellow. " My uncle said she was very handsome. 
 But this is a remarkable face. It's astonishinor how 
 blood tells. That's a w^onderf ully high-bred air. Gen- 
 eral. Why didn't you tell me before that she was a 
 Diana victrix ? " 
 
 " There never was a Beaufort who hadn't that air — 
 at least to some degree," returned Hilton, in a tone of 
 beatitude. 
 
 " Yes ; she resembles my aunt, the only Beaufort 
 that I ever saw," nodded Underbill, still studying the 
 portrait. 
 
 "Your aunt was a most charming lady," said the 
 General ; " and a model wdf e, I believe," he sagaciously 
 added. 
 
 " My uncle had no reason to complain," replied Har- 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. HI 
 
 ry, Ic/oking up sharply. " But his wife lived with him. 
 There is the trouble in this case ; there is to be no liv- 
 ing together. I don't want to marry, and then go mad 
 about ray beauty of a wife, because I can't win her lik- 
 ing, and somebody else can." 
 
 " Oh ! That last idea is insupposable," exclaimed 
 Hilton, looking almost angry enough to ring for pistols. 
 " I know this girl. She is a Beaufort and a South Caro- 
 lina lady." 
 
 *' Pardon me," said Underhill, but he nearly laughed 
 at the Southerner's heat, and at the general oddity 
 of the situation. " Please observe that absence might 
 breed suspicion, even when there was no reason for it. 
 I can't help insisting that my uncle and my prospective 
 wife have laid a heavy burden upon me." 
 
 " Certainly — for the present," admitted the General. 
 " On the other hand, it is proper to remember — you will 
 excuse me, I hope, for suggesting it — it seems proper to 
 remember that you owe your uncle something." 
 
 " Oh, yes — everything in reason. But is this rea- 
 sonable ? " 
 
 " I can imagine that he had this match very much at 
 heart. He had loved a Beaufort a great many years." 
 
 " Well, let my uncle pass. I owe him too much to 
 want to have the air of saying anything against him. 
 But how is it " — glancing at the photograph — " how is 
 it with this lovely young person ? Is she reasonable ? " 
 
 " Xo," conceded Hilton, " Miss Beaufort is not rea- 
 sonable. But I hope and believe that Mrs. Underhill 
 will be." 
 
 The Colonel uttered a laugh of incredulity and im- 
 patience. " I should like to know what chance you can 
 see of it," he retorted. 
 
112 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 Once more the General explained that Virginia was 
 a baited and irritated woman ; that she was high-spirit- 
 ed and not to be put down by baiting — only angered by 
 it. What she needed to soften her and render her sym- 
 pathetic, he argued, was a taste of prosperity. He be- 
 lieved that to noble souls prosperity was humanizing ; 
 it brought them to want to bestow happiness upon their 
 fellow-creatures. 
 
 " Of course, I hope so," assented Underhill. " But 
 I don't know that it will turn out so in this particular 
 case. I am afraid Miss Beaufort has suffered too much 
 ever to forget or forgive." 
 
 " She must be got out of this atmosphere, no doubt," 
 said Hilton. " The very air of South Carolina is loaded 
 with sorrow and wrath. She hears words of vindictive- 
 ness every day, here. But let her once go ^N^orth, or to 
 Europe — let her abide only a few months afar from 
 our desolation — she will be unable to keep up her vivid 
 remembrance of injuries. When she once begins to 
 forget, she will begin to forgive." 
 
 " Forgive me — her husband ! " Underhill laughed 
 with comprehensible bitterness. 
 
 " My dear sir, I envy you," the General declared, 
 not only with seriousness, but with something like en- 
 thusiasm. " It will be a fine moment — that moment of 
 reconciliation." 
 
 " Yes ; I see all that. I have an imagination." The 
 young man smiled, rather amused by the senior's tone 
 of romance. " But there is the previous humiliation ! 
 Just think of it — dismissed at the church- door — like the 
 sexton, or a beggar ! Obliged to sue humbly, for years 
 perhaps, because somebody else ate forbidden fruit, or 
 didn't eat it ! Forgiven at last for nothing ! Keally, 
 
TEE BLOODY CEA8M. 113 
 
 the programme is almost alluring through its oddity — 
 through its unlikeness to anything out of ballads and 
 fairy-stories. Such a chance doesn't come once in a 
 man's lifetime." 
 
 " Colonel, such a chance doesn't come to one man in 
 a hundred millions," returned Hilton, fervently. "It is 
 a sacrifice of pride and of feeling, I admit. But it is 
 a sacrifice worthy of a chivalrous gentleman and of a 
 great soul." 
 
 " And you would do this ? " stared Underhill. 
 " Word of honor. General ! " 
 
 " Word of honor. Colonel ! " declared Hilton with 
 solemnity ; " if I were in your place I would not let the 
 opportunity slip. As Heaven is my witness, I would 
 seize it ! " 
 
 The young man meditated for some moments in 
 silence ; when he spoke again it was in a tone of pro- 
 found seriousness. " If I don 't do this, she will have 
 nothing," he murmured. " And if I do — " 
 
 " You will have your reward somehow," interposed 
 the General. " Depend upon that, my dear Colonel — 
 you will have your reward." 
 
 " In the next world, perhaps," said Underhill, shak- 
 ing his head gravely. 
 
 " Certainly there ! " returned Hilton with emphasis. 
 " And here, too ! It is worth something in this life to 
 be conscious of a deed of singular mercy and self-abne- 
 gation, even if it brings no recognition from those whom 
 it benefits. The greatest names in earthly history are 
 the names of those who have suffered for the uncom- 
 prehending and ungrateful." 
 
 Underhill rose slowly from his chair and walked the 
 room for some minutes in silence. At last he halted in 
 
IM THE BLOODY CHASM, 
 
 front of his anxious companion, gave him his hand with 
 a bright, cheerful smile, and said, in a tranquil voice, 
 " Very well, let it be done." 
 
 The General started up w^ith a vivacity which made 
 his wooden leg creak, and burst into a passion of thanks 
 and joy — of congratulation and panegyric. With pa- 
 thetic fervor and with unhesitating confidence he prom- 
 ised the Colonel his reverence for life, and the reverence 
 of every chivalrous gentleman and of every true South- 
 erner. He looked him straight in the eyes, and called 
 him the Bayard of the age. He said all these things 
 without being absurd, and without seeming to be ex- 
 travagant. His Southern fluency, and the fervid beat- 
 ing of his Southern heart, made his very hyperbole con- 
 vincing and touching. It was evident that the man was 
 an orator, and that Kature had done more than art to 
 make him one. 
 
 At last Underbill found opportunity to reply : 
 " Thank you, thank you exceedingly. I hope it will 
 turn out as you predict, and I wish I were as grand a 
 fellow as you say." 
 
 Then, after they had resumed their seats, he picked 
 up the photograph and studied it intently, as if seeking 
 to discover some softness and sign of pliability in the 
 high-bred features. 
 
 " I shall keep this," he observed ; " so much, at least, 
 is mine." 
 
 " I feel at liberty to leave it with you," bowed Hil- 
 ton, who clearly had not been commissioned so to do. 
 "May I suggest that it might be well to send her 
 yours ? " 
 
 Underhill did not answer for a little ; he seemed to be 
 meditating earnestly. At last he said, " She will see me." 
 
THE BLOODY CEASM. 115 
 
 It was now the General's turn to hesitate and pon- 
 der. " Possibly not," he finally explained. " Perhaps 
 I ought to tell you that the church is to be darkened." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed the young man, surprised and in- 
 dignant, as well he might be, " so we are not even to 
 see each other ? In that case I had better send her my 
 portrait. She'll be wretched without it." 
 
 After further thought he went to his trunk, took out 
 an elegantly mounted photograph, and brought it to the 
 General. 
 
 " Thank you," bowed Hilton ; but he had scarcely 
 glanced at the picture when he added, " Excuse me, 
 there is some mistake here — this is another person." 
 
 " It will do — for her," was the reply. " It is the 
 likeness of my brother, who fell at Gettysburg. She 
 shall have mine when she makes peace with the origi- 
 nal." 
 
 With a very gentle hand, but with a resolved coun- 
 tenance, the General laid the photograph on the table. 
 
 Underhill took up a pen and wrote his name at the 
 bottom of the card. " That will save explanations and 
 prevarications," he said. " You can simply give or send 
 it to her." 
 
 " Would you kindly do me the favor to transmit it 
 by some other hand ? " requested the South Carolinian. 
 
 " Oh, certainly," answered the young man, coloring. 
 " I really beg your pardon. I, of course, had no right 
 to ask you to play a part in my — my bit of finessing." 
 
 " Pardon me, if I had the air of taking offense," 
 bowed Hilton. " But in such an affair a man had better 
 bear his own responsibility. Well, it is all settled, I 
 believe," he added. " You permit me to say so to Miss 
 Beaufort?" 
 
116 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 " Yes," sighed Underhill, and then thanked the Gen- 
 eral for his patience and courtesy ; for, in the presence 
 of this urbane Southron, he also became elaborate in 
 manner and complimentary in speech. 
 
 " Colonel, you deserve all the courtesy that I or any 
 other man can render," was the fervid parting utterance 
 of the fast friend of the Beauforts. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 General Hilton", of course, carried report of Un- 
 derhill's decision to Virginia ; but we will not relate 
 the particulars of the remarkable interview which en- 
 sued ; we will simply state that the engagement became 
 a fact. 
 
 This point once established, events marched rapidly. 
 It was the young lady's purpose that the marriage 
 should be kept as secret as possible ; and, to increase 
 the chance of securing privacy, she fixed an early day 
 for the sacrificial rites. Meantime she remained quietly 
 in Aunt Chloe's lodgings, and made there all her few 
 and mysterious preparations. She had money enough 
 at command to do otherwise, and even magnificently 
 otherwise. Underhill had promptly transmitted to her 
 a large check, signed by the Mather executors, and she 
 might have taken rooms at the hotel, or rented the 
 grandest house in Charleston, both of which plans were 
 suggested to her at random moments by Mrs. Dumont. 
 But, partly through whim, and partly to be more sure 
 of escaping gossip and publicity, she continued to abide 
 
THE BLOODY CEASM. 117 
 
 in the tattered shanty, and scarcely modified her humble 
 style of living. 
 
 All this while the amount of agitation and discussion 
 in the little household was something indescribable. 
 Notwithstanding that the three women were now better 
 fed than they had been for years, they positively palpi- 
 tated and talked the flesh off their bones. Aunt Chloe, 
 in particular, went nearly wild, prattled incessantly and 
 with continually rising vehemence, and was specially 
 copious in denouncing the manner and method of the 
 marriage. 
 
 " It's jess like a weddin' of mad folks," she lectured. 
 ** Married w^ithout co'ting ! Never heerd the like, 'cept 
 among slave niggers or dumb crittahs. Wha's d' young 
 man all dis time ? Why don he come 'long ? We don 
 's much 's se« him gwdne by. Wouldn' know him from 
 Adam ef 'twant fur his poetrait. What's dat, Miss 
 Ginny ? You don look at it ? Yis you has looked at 
 it ; you's seen it onct, anyway — got up las' night an' 
 looked at it by moonlight. I seen you trew de cracks 
 in de flo'. You jess couldn' go to sleep without one peek. 
 No, I ain't shamed to lie awake spyin' on ye. How kin 
 I shet an eye, Tvdth all dese yere crazy doin's ? I's a 
 mos' gone loony with a fearin' you should back out, an' 
 with moumin' an' tremblin' 'bout you bein' married in 
 black. Ugh ! black-crape dress ! All de Beaufort 
 ladies ever I heerd of stood up in white satin. — Miss 
 Anna, you was married in satin — powerful satin — fit to 
 Stan' alone an' be married all by itself." 
 
 "We don't see such satin nowadays, Chloe," re- 
 sponded Mrs. Dumont, warming up at the recollection 
 of her bridal glories. 
 
 The worthy lady, by-the-way, was much improved 
 
118 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 in appearance since we last saw her, and had such a 
 gloss of prosperity that it was not difficult to imagine 
 her in wedding-garments. The purchasing power of 
 " Yankee dollars " revealed itself in dainty bootees, a 
 well-fitted black-silk dress, and a becoming little cap on 
 her now carefully brushed hair. In her expression there 
 was that wonderful embellishment and refinement which 
 handsome attire and a consciousness of well-being bring 
 to humanity, and especially to womanhood. She had 
 lost the hard and hungry glare which once made her 
 eyes pathetically displeasing — that glare of eagerness 
 and bitterness which caused her to resemble a " sand- 
 hiller " rather than a Beaufort. She looked a- lady — 
 decent, even-tempered, high-bred, and dignified — though 
 not intellectually powerful. 
 
 " I don' keer ef we don' see no sech satin nowadays," 
 grumbled Aunt Chloe. " You could git somefin white. 
 Ugh ! black-crape dress ! Jess 's ef you was gwine to 
 a fu'nal ! " 
 
 " So I am, aunty 5" said Virginia. " It's only a fu- 
 neral to me." 
 
 " I must say that I shouldn't object to white," put 
 in Mrs. Dumont. " Black will look — well, it will look 
 ungrateful — I mean to brother-in-law Mather." 
 
 " So I am ungrateful," declared Virginia. " Am I 
 to shine out in thanks for this bondage ? What have I 
 to be grateful for ? " 
 
 "It is a great deal of money, Virginia," said the 
 elder lady, eagerly and pleadingly, as though she still 
 feared lest it might vanish. " We shall be comfortable 
 for life." 
 
 "Ah, Aunt Dumont, you have been bought over," 
 the girl laughed. Then, seeing that her relative looked 
 
THE BLOODY CEASM. 119 
 
 annoyed, she added : " Never mind what I say, aunt. I 
 have been bought, if you haven't." 
 
 " I don't like to hear you talk of it so lightly," mur- 
 mured Mrs. Dumont. "After all, whether we are 
 thankful or not, it is a wonderful providence, and seems 
 like a direct interposition." 
 
 She spoke in a low and as it were awe-stricken voice 
 whenever she alluded to the Mather inheritance. It 
 seemed as if she remembered the tales of treasure-dig- 
 gers who have seen the iron chest disappear because 
 some one uttered a loud word. 
 
 "Of co'se it's a providence," affirmed Aunt Chloe. 
 " An' you goes to meet it in a black dress ! Dar 
 was a man in Scripter what went to the Lawd's feast 
 without any weddin'-garment, an' got hisself cast 
 inter outer darkness fur his impidence. Da's what'll 
 happen to you. Such behavin' 's shuah to bring ill- 
 luck." 
 
 " The ill-luck has come," said Virginia. " The mar- 
 riage is the ill-luck. There can't be any worse." 
 
 " An' de bridesmaids ? " queried the old woman. 
 " Is dey to be in black, too — like mourners ? " 
 
 " There won't be any bridesmaids, aunty ; nor 
 groomsmen, either." 
 
 " No bridesmaids ? An' is dis yere young gen'leman 
 to Stan' all dese cracker 'rangements ? I 'gin to b'lieve, 
 fur true, d' Yankees has'n' got • no sperrit. An' no 
 groomsmen, nuther ? You two stan' up alone, like poo' 
 white folks ? Oh, you wait ! You'll see ! He'll have 
 groomsmen. D'aint no rich young man gwine ter be 
 'posed on dat ar way. He'll fotch on his own grooms- 
 men, an' bridesmaids, too — bawn Yankees, every one of 
 'em — jess to punish ye." 
 
120 TEE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 " Then there won't be any bride, not if I have my 
 senses," declared Virginia. 
 
 " "Well, you has'n' got 'em," retorted Aunt Chloe. 
 " Dar has'n' been no sense in Sou' Carliny sence d' wah 
 — no, nor fur a good while befo' d' wah. De bosses 
 has a heap sight mo' gumption nor de folks. Why ! 
 how's you gwine ter look, stannin' up without brides- 
 maids, an' towsled with black crape ? — What's dat you 
 say ? No lights in de church ! What ! married in the 
 dark ? I shall jess go 's crazy 's a bawn Beaufort. 
 Married in the dark ! How's you to know which is 
 you' husban' ? How's he to know which is you ? You'll 
 jess git you'self married to Gin'ral Hilton, an' never find 
 it out till you sees it in de papahs." 
 
 "Aunty, I think I could stand that better," said 
 Virginia, half laughing, half groaning. 
 
 " Why ! you' husban' won't see you," pursued the 
 scandalized Mauma — "won't see what he marries — 
 black, or white, or yaller gal. Don' you mean he shall 
 ever see you' face ? What, never ? !N'ot in all you' life ? 
 Ef dat young man puts up with all dese yere tomfool- 
 eries, I'm done with him. I mos' dispises him now. 
 Why don' he behave hisself like a gen'leman ? Why don' 
 he come here, an' f o'ce hisself in ? Who's to bender ? " 
 
 "He wouldn't dare — he has no right !" exclaimed 
 Virginia, coloring with alarm and indignation at the 
 mere thought of such an intrusion. 
 
 " Right ! He'll have right enough when d' words 
 is said an' de ring is on. He kin fotch along de police 
 an' break in. Reckon he will, too ; anyway, he oughter." 
 
 " O Chloe ! " murmured the girl, her fears getting 
 the upper hand of her defiance. " You scare me out of 
 my wits." 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 121 
 
 " Wish I could skeer you inter 'em — wish I could 
 now. Hain't been in 'em fur fo' yeahs." 
 
 " I half think so myself when I remember what I 
 am doing," sighed Virginia. 
 
 " An' how you's a-doin' it ! " snapped the Mauma. 
 " Never was no sech loony business sence Adam an' Eve 
 ate the apple. It's wuss 'n crazy. It's jess like a wed- 
 din' in de bad place — a weddin' 'mongst Satan's angels 
 an' fallen sperrits— all blackness an' darkness an' hatred 
 an' lies. Ef d' Ole Boy hisself don' come to 'tend it, it's 
 bekase he's acsumdentally got outside o' Sou' Carliny." 
 
 " O Chloe ! " screamed the churchly Mrs. Dumont. 
 " How can you ! I think you are awfully profane — and 
 so cruel and discouraging, too ! It all comes of freedom. 
 You didn't talk so in the good, quiet old times." 
 
 " Didn' dast to, Miss Anna ; wanted to, lots o' times 
 — wanted to talk wuss." 
 
 Just here Mrs. Dumont observed through the win- 
 dow that some one was approaching the house, and, with 
 the indolent dignity of a person accustomed to be waited 
 on, directed Chloe to see who it might be. 
 
 " Da's d' i'nin'," explained the old woman. " Da's 
 d' young lady what fotches d' i'nin'." 
 
 " Young lady ! young lady that fetches the ironing ! 
 What are we coming to ? " gasped Mrs. Dumont, with an 
 upward roll of her eyes. 
 
 " Dis yere's mighty 'spectable, an' a powerful fine 
 singer, too, as I heern tell," added Chloe. " She on'y 
 fotches when her mother's out o' sawts, like Miss Ginny 
 useter when I was rheumatical." 
 
 " A Beaufort is a lady, whatever she does," declared 
 Mrs. Dumont, tartly. " I really don't like your com- 
 paring my niece with a common-born Irish girl." 
 6 
 
122 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 Thus speaking, the rehabilitated grandee passed into 
 her wretched little sleeping-closet with as august an air 
 as if it were a withdrawing-rpom of lordly dimensions 
 and furnishings. 
 
 Mauma Chloe now opened the door and courtesied in 
 Korah Macmorran, bearing a basket of fine linen dainti- 
 ly starched and ruffled. Virginia glanced at the mod- 
 est and pretty girl with the surprise which we accord to 
 unexpected refinement of expression and bearing, and 
 with the interest which one handsome young woman 
 usually grants to another. When Norah spoke, too, she 
 turned and looked at her with something like admira- 
 tion, so delicious was the voice and so neat was the ut- 
 terance. 
 
 "The heavy pieces will be done to-morrow," ex- 
 plained Norah. " I brought the small things because 
 mother said you wanted them directly." 
 
 "I am very much obliged to you," returned Vir- 
 ginia, with an instinctive civility which did her honor. 
 " Please sit down while I look them over." 
 
 In another instant she had forgotten Norah in her 
 finery. She picked up the basket, hurried with it into 
 the sleeping-room, closed the door behind her with a 
 push of her foot, and proceeded to take out the rustling 
 delicacies of raiment. The lowly bed was soon covered 
 with glossy cuffs and collars, snowy handkerchiefs, and 
 other fine linen. The two ladies bent over them and 
 fingered them and counted them with a joy which was 
 almost great enough for tears. It was a long time since 
 they had been able to look upon such a pageant as their 
 own. 
 
 Meanwhile Aunt Chloe, left alone with N^orah, seat- 
 ed her in the arm-chair and began to babble. " You's 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM, 123 
 
 just in time, miss," she chuckled. " Things is mighty 
 pressin'." 
 
 " So I understood," was the tranquil reply. 
 
 " Oh ! then you heern of it ? " stared and smirked 
 Aunt Chloe. 
 
 "My mother told me," said Norah, meaning simply 
 that her mother had told her that the washing was 
 needed promptly. 
 
 " Laws ! so it's all out," giggled the old woman, de- 
 lighted that the fact should- be so, since it left her free 
 to talk. " Yis, Miss Ginny's been spoke for," she went 
 on. " Wonder ef you knows de young gen'leman ? " 
 
 "I suppose not," answered Norah, with her sweet 
 smile, for the subject of nuptials interested her pleas- 
 antly, as it does many young women. It was surely a 
 pathetic speech, when one remembers how well she did 
 know him, and what scenes had passed between him 
 and her. "But you misunderstood me," she added, 
 quickly. " I didn't mean to say — " 
 
 "Perhaps you knows him," interrupted Chloe, alto- 
 gether heedless of Norah's explanation, so eager was 
 she to learn something about the mysterious groom. 
 "He's from the Nawth, whar you comes from. His 
 name is Underhill, an' he's a Yankee colonel." 
 
 The girl quivered a little, like one who has been 
 stabbed mortally, and who can only quiver. Her lips 
 parted slightly, but did not give forth a word, not even 
 a sigh. Her eyes dropped to the floor. 
 
 " So you don' know him ? " queried Aunt Chloe, dis- 
 appointed. Then, staring vaguely at ISTorah, she noted 
 that her face had turned very white, and broke out with 
 " Law sakes ! wha's de mattah ? " 
 
 "Nothing," murmured the girl ; but she was clutch- 
 
124: THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 ing the arms of her chair, and seeraed to be struggling 
 against faintness. 
 
 " Why, you looks dead sick," insisted the Mauma, 
 and began to call aloud, " Miss Ginny ! Miss Ginny ! " 
 
 " Oh, please don't call her ! " gasped Korah. " Have 
 you got any water ? " 
 
 But Virginia had already entered the room and di- 
 vined the situation, at least so far as concerned the fact 
 of faintness. She hastily filled a tumbler with water 
 and brought it to the invalid. 
 
 Norah drank eagerly, without raising her eyes, and 
 then whispered : " Thank you. It is nothing. I have 
 such turns sometimes. I haven't been well lately." 
 
 " Let me help you into the other room," said Virgin- 
 ia. "You must lie down a minute." 
 
 Norah merely shook her head and tried to smile. 
 After a moment of waiting and silence, compressing her 
 lips for a desperate effort, she grasped the arms of the 
 chair and rose to her feet. 
 
 " Take care ! " exclaimed Virginia, catching hold of 
 her arm to steady her. " Don't go yet ; you might fall 
 in the street." 
 
 For the first time since the revelation of the engage- 
 ment the girl glanced at her. It was a quick, furtive, 
 strange look ; it seemed to express fear, humiliation, 
 and resignation ; it was a look which the other probably 
 never forgot. 
 
 "I must go," she murmured. "I am quite able. 
 Thank you." 
 
 Next, without lifting her eyes again upon any of 
 them, she seized her basket, opened the door hurriedly, 
 and passed out. 
 
 " What does all this mean ? " demanded Mrs. Du- 
 
THE BLOODY CEASM. 125 
 
 mont, appearing from the sleeping-closet. " What's 
 that girl fainting about ? " 
 
 Then, little by little, the whole story came out — 
 how Aunt Chloe had blunderingly given up the secret 
 of the engagement, and how thereupon the girl had 
 come nigh to swooning. It was obvious that all three 
 of the women suspected a love-affair between Norah 
 and Underhill. 
 
 "Reckon she ain't strong-like," urged the subdued 
 and alarmed Mauma. " Some women has watery blood, 
 and turns white fur nothin' at all." 
 
 " It is not worth minding," asserted Mrs. Dumont, 
 glancing with anxious eyes at her frowning niece. " The 
 world is full of cases of misplaced affection. Those 
 commonplace girls, I suppose, are always reading trashy 
 novels, and dreaming about impossible marriages. Or, 
 it may be as Chloe says — some girls are for ever faint- 
 ing. My opinion is, that it comes from an irregular cir- 
 culation." 
 
 At last Virginia spoke. " I suppose he has trifled 
 with her," she said, sullenly. " I think he is a bad, 
 cruel man. "Well, it is what I expected. They are a 
 mean race." 
 
 " My dear, I really hope you will do nothing rash," 
 implored the aunt, fairly trembling with terror lest the 
 marvelously found treasure should vanish away. 
 
 " 'Sposin' he has behaved bad," put in Aunt Chloe, 
 who had recovered somewhat of her spirit, " what's his 
 behavin' to you, ef you ain't gwine ter live with him ? " 
 
 " Oh, I shall go on," returned the girl, with a groan 
 of mingled aversion and despair. " Nothing can make 
 it worse than it is in itself. I shall marry him now, no 
 matter what I hear." 
 
126 TEE BLOODY CSASM. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 It is not worth while to relate minutely how Under- 
 hill passed the time of his brief engagement, nor to make 
 full record of the emotions and thoughts with which he 
 approached his very extraordinary marriage. 
 
 All that — the perpetual remembrance of the fact ; 
 the constantly varying dispositions with regard to it ; 
 the querying whether Miss Beaufort would hold her 
 strange purpose to the end ; the occasional wrath at re- 
 ceiving from her no kindly message, or notice of any 
 kind ; the petulant resolves to see the thing through, 
 since it had been begun ; the desperate glances ahead at 
 the oddest of all fashions of blighted lives ; the fre- 
 quent temptations toward a breaking loose from the un- 
 natural arrangement ; the enforced meditations upon 
 motives of pity and honor and plighted troth ; the 
 periods of romantic expectation, and of easy confidence, 
 and of total indifference — all that we will leave to 
 sympathetic imaginations, and will come at once to the 
 evening of the wedding. 
 
 An hour or so previous to the moment fixed for the 
 ceremony, TJnderhill came out of the Charleston Hotel, 
 and set off alone down Meeting Street. At first he 
 walked rapidly, as if he had a well-defined object in 
 view ; but of a sudden he halted, folded his arms, and 
 stared vacantly at the pavement. A ragged negro ap- 
 proached, took off his tatter of a cap with a scrape, and 
 asked: "Does you want anythin'. Boss ? I'se an er- 
 ran'-boy, I is." 
 
 "Yes," said TJnderhill, surlily ; "I want to be let 
 alone." Then, glancing at the fellow's poverty-stricken 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 127 
 
 raiment, he threw him a wad of the currency of those 
 days, and added, " Clear out ! " 
 
 " Wah, wah, wah ! tankee. Boss," guffawed the negro, 
 and made his exit with another resounding " Wah, wah, 
 wah ! » 
 
 The laughter was not unlike the " Ho ! ho ! " of Meph- 
 istopheles, and probably reminded Underhill of that 
 diabolical merriment. 
 
 " Confound the black imp ! " he muttered ; and his 
 face became more sullen than before. He looked at his 
 watch, pushed on hastily down the street, and came to 
 another abrupt halt. This time he aroused the curiosity 
 of a policeman who was standing in the shadow of 
 a neighboring building. The official watched him a 
 moment, edged forward with a noiseless step, and 
 remarked, " Foine evenin', surr." 
 
 Underhill started, turned upon the man, stared at 
 him impatiently, and yawned : " Oh — yes — fine even- 
 ing." 
 
 " Lost yer way, surr ? " inquired the guardian of the 
 public tranquillity. 
 
 " No," returned Underhill, sharply. He was moving 
 on, but after one or two steps he stopped and said, 
 " Officer, how deep is the water off the Battery ? " 
 
 The star reflected with an air of perplexity, which 
 was followed by a gleam of wariness. It is probable 
 that the suspicion came into his head that here was a 
 fellow, impudent enough or mad enough to try to learn 
 from a member of the force where he might convenient- 
 ly drown himself. Of course, the notion was an im- 
 probable one ; but, on the other hand, there were cases 
 of policemen who had been humbugged by frankness 
 and straightforwardness ; and it was highly desirable 
 
128 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 not to get a repute at the office for being a simpleton. 
 At last he replied with thoughtful deliberation, " Well, 
 surr, I couldn't say for sure, the tide is out just now — 
 it's three feet or so, mebbe less." 
 
 " Is that so ? shallow as that ? " was the sulky com- 
 ment. 
 
 " I might walk along wid ye, an' we might have a 
 look," suggested the official. "My bate's down that 
 way." 
 
 " Oh, no ! don't want to go there," answered Under- 
 bill. He faced about, as if to return whence he came, 
 but did not stir. ^'^By-the-way, officer," he added, 
 " can you tell me when the next train leaves town ? " 
 
 " There's niver a train out till six of the mornin', 
 
 surr." 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! " said the young man, yawning with 
 an air of complete indifference. "Thank you, officer. 
 Good-night." 
 
 He now set off swiftly, neither toward the Battery 
 nor toward the hotel, but across Meeting Street and in 
 the direction of the Ashley River. The policeman 
 watched him for a minute, and then started in pursuit. 
 He did not follow far in a direct line, but turned to the 
 left down the first alley, and there broke into a double, 
 as if to wheel around a block and head off his quarry. 
 
 Underhill walked at full speed for a quarter of a 
 mile, and came to a halt before a small, isolated dwell- 
 ing, evidently the residence of people in humble life. 
 There was a small, bare, well-trampled yard in front of 
 it, inclosed by a dilapidated wooden fence. At one end 
 this fence was flanked by a shapeless thicket of under- 
 growth, quite characteristic of the half -depopulated and 
 ill-cared-for little city. At the other end stood the 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 129 
 
 corner building of the block, apparently a deserted 
 grocery — ^no light in its windows, and no revelry at its 
 counters. Underbill posted himself in the shadow of 
 the thicket, and quietly watched the silent dwelling- 
 house. He had been there several minutes when a fe- 
 male figure came around the corner beyond and ad- 
 vanced rapidly toward the gate. He stepped forward, 
 reached the gate first, seized it with one hand, and said 
 in a low, tremulous voice, " Miss Macmorran ! " 
 
 " Sir ? " was the reply. It was partly a query, and 
 partly a remonstrance, or rather a reproof. The tone 
 was very gentle, but also very grave. 
 
 " Only a moment ! " he begged. *' Just one word, 
 Miss Macmorran ! " 
 
 " I can not talk with you, sir," answered Norah, her 
 utterance suddenly dropping to a gasp. 
 
 " Only a word of good-by. How hard you are with 
 
 me ! " 
 
 " I have no right to be anything else," murmured 
 Norah, bringing out the words one by one and with 
 ' great difficulty. 
 
 "You might have had the right." He could not 
 help saying it, no matter whether it was true or false. 
 " Do listen to me. You might have had the right." 
 
 " Oh, please let me pass ! " whispered Norah, strug- 
 gling in vain to speak aloud. 
 
 " In a moment," he answered, still holding the gate. 
 " Can't you hear a word from me ? " 
 
 " Oh, what is the use — now ? Bid me good-by, and 
 let me go in." 
 
 " Ah, Norah ! That is just what I don't want to 
 do. I don't want to bid you good-by." 
 
 Something or other, perhaps an impulse of con- 
 
130 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 science, perhaps a throb of indignation, restored her 
 voice to her for a moment. " You have no claim, Mr. 
 Underhill, to talk to me in this way," she said aloud. 
 Then, breaking down into a sob, she added, " It is very- 
 cruel." 
 
 " Ah, forgive me ! forgive me ! " he pleaded, lean- 
 ing toward her and whispering with the tenderness of 
 penitence. " I don't mean to be cruel — not to you. I am 
 suffering enough myself. How can I want to be cruel ? " 
 
 " You ! — suffering ? " was the amazed and incredu- 
 lous reply. 
 
 " Yes," he insisted. " It is your fault. Why have 
 you always kept me at a distance ? Why ? " 
 
 " I can't tell you. I mustn't talk with you." 
 
 " Tell me ! " he implored, or rather commanded. " I 
 insist upon it. Did you think I could never seriously 
 care for you ? " 
 
 She broke into outright crying here, but was able to 
 sob forth, "Yes, sir, I — did." 
 
 "But you wouldn't let me be near you. You 
 wouldn't give me a chance to speak. Why was it ? 
 Did you hate me ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed, as if in horror at the thought. 
 " Xo, sir ! " 
 
 " Was it the difference of Catholic and Protestant ? " 
 he asked, gently. As she made no reply, he continued, 
 " Was it — other differences ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir," said Norah, with the simplicity and 
 pathos of a weeping child. " I didn't think you could 
 honestly care for a poor girl like me." 
 
 " But you wouldn't give me a chance — not a chance 
 to talk with you — not a chance to hear you sing, even, 
 by myself." 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 131 
 
 " It was best for you I sliouldn't." She had got 
 upon the subject of duty now, and could speak more 
 firmly and clearly. *' Don't you know it was ? Oh, I 
 know it, and knew it then. It was told to me." 
 
 " What ! " stared Underhill. " Did my uncle write 
 to you ? " he demanded, wrathful for a moment with 
 the dead. 
 
 Norah hesitated. " It was told to me," she repeated. 
 " I knew he would cut you off if you took a Catholic. 
 Isn't that in his will ? Ah, I know it is, Mr. Underhill, 
 or you would answer. That is all," she added, endeav- 
 oring to pass him. " Now please let me go." 
 
 *' Oh, you little angel, I can't ! " he answered, still 
 holding the gate firmly. " How good and sweet of you 
 to think of me ! " 
 
 He was trying to take her hand, but this seemed to 
 startle her, and she drew back sharply. "Sir, you 
 must wo^," she protested with really touching solem- 
 nity. " And you should not be here, either," she con- 
 tinued, still more gravely. " Why are you not with 
 her?'' 
 
 " So you know that ? " he fretted. " ISTorah, I am 
 perfectly miserable. You must help me — help me to 
 break out of this situation." 
 
 " What ! Out of your marriage-troth ? Oh, sir, it 
 would be such a sin ! " 
 
 "It would be mine — all mine," he urged, seizing her 
 hand and holding it. "I won't let you go till you 
 promise yourself to me. I must break away from this 
 horrible marriage, and you must help me." 
 
 " O Virgin Mother, aid me ! " whispered Norah. 
 She made a violent effort and released herself from his 
 grasp. " Now let me go," she implored, sobbing once 
 
132 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 more. " May God help you ! But you never shall 
 touch my hand again. Let me pass." 
 
 " Give me one good-by kiss, Norah," he begged. 
 
 "I must not," she answered. "It would be wrong." 
 
 He still held the gate and gazed at her eagerly. He 
 was quite beside himself now with longing for this girl. 
 He had come hither in obedience to that impulse which 
 leads a man, on the brink of a distasteful marriage, to 
 grasp at the temporary consolation of a tender parting 
 from some one else. But this passionate dialogue had 
 made him a lover, and he was really prepared to rush 
 into a hasty and ill-assorted marriage, not merely be- 
 cause he abhorred his unnatural engagement, but also 
 because he was infatuated with the nun-like creature at 
 his side. If he could not have her for life, he must at 
 least hold her a moment in his arms, and win from her a 
 farewell embrace. This he now strove to do, putting 
 forth his right hand as she pressed against the gate, and 
 passing it around her waist. Norah uttered a stifled 
 cry and swiftly turned away her head, so that his kiss 
 only touched a ripple of her black hair. 
 
 " O Holy Virgin, forgive me ! " she exclaimed, and, 
 breaking the gate from his grasp, fled into the house. 
 
 At the same moment a policeman appeared, advan- 
 cing on a run from the neighboring corner, and calling 
 angrily : " Let that girl alone ! Keep away from that 
 house ! " 
 
 Underbill turned, recognized his companion of a 
 quarter of an hour previous, and responded in a rage, 
 " What have you got to do with it ? " 
 
 " Can't you see my shield ? " demanded the official, 
 who was clearly in a furious passion, and hardly able to 
 refrain from violence. 
 
THE BLOODY CEASM. 133 
 
 " When a man is talking to a young lady, what has 
 the police to do with it?" reiterated the exasperated 
 Colonel, advancing upon the policeman with that air of 
 domination which is apt to come to a man with years 
 of martial life. 
 
 "I'll tell ye, surr," returned the other, lowering his 
 tone to a surly growl. " Me name is John Macmorran, 
 an' that young lady is me sister." 
 
 Underhill seemed thunderstruck ; for some seconds 
 he remained speechless ; at last he muttered : " Good 
 Heavens ! This is too much." 
 
 "That's what I say meself," responded Macmorran. 
 " I hope I sha'n't have to take ye in charge, surr." 
 
 The miserable young gentleman burst into a wretch- 
 ed laugh. " Oh, no," he said. " If she has a brother 
 on the force, that answers every purpose." 
 
 Then, while Macmorran entered his mother's house, 
 to inquire doubtless into the meaning of this extraordi- 
 nary scene, our modern Bayard, the chivalrous hero of 
 the age, turned his back and sauntered slowly home- 
 ward. 
 
 CHAPTER XYII. 
 
 Reaching Meeting Street, Underhill discovered Gen- 
 eral Hilton, standing under one of the lamp-posts in 
 front of the market, and peering anxiously in all direc- 
 tions. He crossed over, walked straight up to him, and 
 said in a tranquil tone, which contrasted singularly with 
 his late agitation, " General, I suppose you are looking 
 for me." 
 
134: THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 " My dear Colonel, I am very glad to find you," re- 
 turned Hilton, not forgetting to shake hands cordially. 
 " They couldn't tell me at the hotel where you were." 
 
 " I felt too gay and festive to stay there," was the 
 sardonic answer. " I wanted to get out and frolic ! " 
 
 " What time is it ? " asked the General. " I don't 
 carry a watch in these days." 
 
 Underhill drew forth a magnificent repeater. " We 
 have ten minutes — plenty of time to get there," he said. 
 *' General, let me ask you to accept this, in token of my 
 profound respect, and also of my regrets for having 
 caused you anxiety. I ought to have been at the hotel, 
 if only on your account." 
 
 Hilton gently begged leave to decline the gift. 
 " Not now, at any rate," he smiled. " If this marriage 
 turns out well, as I profoundly believe it will, then you 
 shall give me that watch, and your thanks with it." 
 
 " May the hour come ! " responded the young man, 
 with a sigh of hopelessness. *' Well," he added, pass- 
 ing his arm through Hilton's, " I am all ready — as ready 
 as I can be. Let us go to the place of execution." 
 
 " Ah, Colonel ! " the General sighed also, as they set 
 forward, taking the direction of Grace Church. 
 
 " I understand," said Underhill. " This isn't talking 
 like a Bayard, is it ? Well, I have found — I have just 
 now clearly discovered — that I am not a Bayard. I have 
 been behaving, during this last mauvais quart dlieure^ 
 like a perfect blackguard." 
 
 " I can't credit it. Colonel. You couldn't behave like 
 one for fifteen minutes together, if for one." 
 
 " I don't believe. General, that you have ever known 
 what it is to be driven to desperation." 
 
 " My dear fellow, this is the dark hour before the 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 135 
 
 dawn," said Hilton. " I can remember enough of youth- 
 ful feelings to comprehend that it must seem very som- 
 ber. I remember, also, hours in which I have myself 
 been very desperate. Never mind. A gentleman does 
 his devoir all the same." 
 
 " Noblesse oblige — a gentleman must," repeated Un- 
 derhill. Then he added wdth a smile, " So you can say 
 that to a Yankee ? " 
 
 " To any brother soldier — to any good soldier — Yan- 
 kee or Southern — I can say that." 
 
 " Good Heavens ! I w^sh it was war again," broke 
 out the Colonel. " I wish there was somebody to fight 
 — instead of this." 
 
 " There is no one," Hilton answered, gravely. " Miss 
 Beaufort hasn't a male relative left." It was character- 
 istic of the Southron that he should think at once of the 
 duel, and suppose that his interlocutor had alluded to 
 that method of settling fastidious questions. 
 
 " Ah, if she had ! " groaned Harry, coming to a halt. 
 " I should rather like to be shot." 
 
 " But you can't be. Colonel — unless you shoot your- 
 self," responded Hilton, halting also, and watching him 
 anxiously. 
 
 Underhill looked up in his face with the smile of a 
 man who assents to an overwhelming argument. " No," 
 he said, " I must be married, instead of buried. Parole 
 iVhonneur! I remember now that I gave it. I forgot 
 it once this evening." 
 
 " Yes — word of honor ! " murmured Hilton in a rev- 
 erent tone. " Word of an officer and gentleman ! " 
 
 " So be it," sighed Underhill, resuming his course. 
 " Lead on to my nuptials," he added with a miserable 
 laugh. " Vive lajoie ! " 
 
136 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 They reached the vicinity of the church in time to 
 see a group of three or four dark figures turn into the 
 side-alley which led up to the vestry-door. 
 
 " Walking ! " commented the opulent young gentle- 
 man, with an air of surprise. " Why didn't my wife 
 drive ? " 
 
 "She wished to escape notice," muttered Hilton. 
 " She'll regret it some day, and regret all this. I don't 
 believe a girl ever had a queer or private wedding 
 without feeling more or less sore about it all her 
 life." 
 
 Then they also reached the alley, pushed up it to the 
 vestry-door, and stumbled into the shadowy church, 
 dimly conscious of massive pillars and pointed arches, 
 the latter being guessed rather than discerned. Two 
 wax-candles in front of the altar faintly lighted a group 
 which was huddled in the center of the transept. The 
 clergyman, a middle-aged gentleman of mild expres- 
 sion and thin, patrician features, was listening to the 
 whisperings of a portly and elderly lady, dressed in 
 mourning. By the side of this last stood another female 
 figure, tall and slender and evidently youthful, although 
 her hair was hidden by a black veil and her face was 
 turned away. 
 
 Underbill gripped his companion's arm, and brought 
 him to a halt. *' Which is Miss Beaufort ? " he whis- 
 pered. 
 
 " The youngest lady — the slender one — the crape 
 veil." 
 
 And the large one, I suppose, is her aunt ? " 
 No. At the last moment Mrs. Dumont's courage 
 failed her. She called it a funeral. A woman, you know 
 — sensitive and imaginative — perhaps superstitious — she 
 
 li 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 137 
 
 refused to see it. The large lady is a Mrs. Chester, a 
 distant connection." 
 
 " Are there witnesses enough ? Have all the legali- 
 ties been seen to ? It would be awkward for the lady, 
 if not." 
 
 " Thank you for the suggestion," said Hilton, evi- 
 dently much gratified by this sign of good-will. " Ev- 
 erything has been arranged." 
 
 The clergyman now came toward them with a soft 
 and urbane solemnity. The General introduced his 
 companion in full, as Mr. Henry Edwards Underbill, of 
 Boston, the affianced of Miss Virginia Temple Beau- 
 fort. There was a slight touching of hands, a faint 
 murmuring of a civil phrase or two, and then a brief, 
 oppressive silence. Underbill turned his head, and 
 glanced at the dimly visible figure in the crape veil. 
 The face was still averted from him. 
 
 " All is ready," whispered the clergyman, and glided 
 back to his place of office. Hilton took Underbill's 
 arm, and they walked together down the transept to 
 join the group in front of the altar. The slight grating 
 of their feet on the bare and apparently sanded floor 
 was the only sound in the shadowy edifice. The mo- 
 ment they baited there was a complete and lugubrious 
 silence. A moment later there was a sharp sigh ; it 
 was only the struggling, gasping breath of a woman ; 
 but it could be heard with painful distinctness. 
 
 Underbill was now by the side of his bride, some 
 three or four feet distant from her, and fronting the 
 clergyman. [Not until he had thus placed himself did 
 she turn in the same direction. He glanced — he prob- 
 ably could not help glancing — toward the woman who 
 uttered that sigh. Then he discovered that her face 
 
138 TEE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 was shielded by her veil, so that he could not distin- 
 guish a single feature. Looking at her sidewise, she 
 was a mass of funereal black, from her feet to her fore- 
 head. Her pose was that of a statue. Not once, not 
 even in the slightest degree, did she turn her head 
 toward the man whom she was about to marry. It was 
 evident that she did not mean to see him, any more 
 than to be seen by him. 
 
 The service commenced. The clergyman knew his 
 task by heart, and it was well that he did so know it, 
 for the feebleness of the light forbade reading. Vir- 
 ginia made her responses in a low, monotonous, mechan- 
 ical tone, without a tremor or any other sign of emotion. 
 TJnderhill spoke in such a suppressed and unnatural 
 mutter that Hilton stared at him with an air of surprise, 
 and bent forward as if to see whether he were the right 
 man. Indeed, ever since the General had entered the 
 church, he had worn an expression of perplexity, and 
 had stared hard and repeatedly at the bridegroom. 
 
 The service ended. The marriage-vows had been 
 really and fully uttered and interchanged. Henry Ed- 
 wards Underhill and Virginia Temple Beaufort were 
 lawfully man and wife. That moment they separated. 
 In obedience to a touch of Hilton's hand, the husband 
 fell back two paces and stood motionless. The wife, 
 drawing her veil entirely over her face, turned to the 
 right, walked hastily by him, and, accompanied by her 
 three friends, swept along the transept toward the ves- 
 try exit. Then, at a little distance, the two men slowly 
 followed, and groped their way out of the shadowy edi- 
 fice. The door was softly closed behind them by an 
 invisible hand, giving a lugubrious impression of the 
 presence of some ghostly verger. Underhill halted in 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 139 
 
 the moonlight, folded his arms, drew a long sigh, and 
 waited for his bride to pass out of sight. Meantime 
 the General gazed at him with an air of scrutiny and 
 bewilderment. 
 
 " My dear Colonel, when did you raise those ? " he 
 said, at last, pointing with his finger to the young man's 
 cheek. " I never noticed before that you had whiskers." 
 
 Underbill uttered a low laugh — not quite a pleasant 
 one to hear — rather a sardonic merriment. " Oh, it was 
 a miracle," he said. ' " This has been a supernatural af- 
 fair throughout. I raised them as we stepped into the 
 church." 
 
 He lifted his hat, took off a j^air of false whiskers, 
 and put them in his pocket. 
 
 " Well, I am glad to see that it is yourself," returned 
 Hilton. " I positively had my doubts, in there. I 
 wouldn't have believed that such a small thing could 
 so change a face. You had your reasons, doubtless, for 
 the disguise." 
 
 " Of course. I had sent her my brother's picture 
 as mine, you remember. It was necessary to look like 
 him, or she might have been puzzled, and might have 
 refused to go on. I had these got up some days ago. 
 I came near forgetting them this evening, and only put 
 them on as we entered the church." 
 
 He took the whiskers out of his pocket, waved them 
 in the moonlight, and laughed again. " It was my only 
 preparation for the wedding," he said. " Very appro- 
 priate ! Sham marriage and sham whiskers ! " 
 
 " Ah ! Colonel, this bitterness will pass — it will sure- 
 ly pass," affirmed Hilton, laying a petting hand on Un- 
 derhiU's shoulder. " There will be a reconciliation. 
 Meantime, don't murmur over your superb self-sacrifice. 
 
14:0 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 It was a grand deed. I wish a Southerner could have 
 had the honor of it." 
 
 " General, I might have escaped it as easily as not," 
 said Harry. " I wonder I didn't think of it and do it. 
 I had a chance, half an hour ago, to get myself arrested 
 and locked up for the night. It's amazing that I 
 shouldn't think to avail myself of it. My wits are not 
 in first-rate order to-night. General. You mustn't won- 
 der that I can't mount to your plane of discourse. 
 Well, my wife is out of the way," he added, with a 
 forced smile. " Come along. We'll go to the hotel 
 and crack a bottle of champagne. I shall leave to-mor- 
 row. We'll drink to Mrs. Underhill." 
 
 " Going ! — going to-morrow ! " protested Hilton. 
 " Wait awhile ; wait for events. Send a message and 
 ask an interview." 
 
 " I have had an interview to-night," said Harry, his 
 voice trembling for a moment with anger. " She didn't 
 look at me. I doubt whether she will ever have an- 
 other chance. Come along, and let us try the grape. 
 
 " ' Come, fill the cup, and in the fire of spring 
 The winter garment of repentance fling; 
 The bird of time has but a little way 
 To flutter — and the bird is on tbe wing.' " 
 
 The General did not recognize the quotation from 
 Omar Khayyam, whom indeed he had never read, nor 
 even heard of, as few English-speaking people then had. 
 But he seemed to be solemnized by the bacchanalian 
 despair of the great Persian. He shook his head sor- 
 rowfully and answered in a tone of compassion : " No. 
 Excuse me from joining* you. I can't feel like cham- 
 pagne this evening. Good-night, my dear fellow ; and 
 God guide you and reward you ! " 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 141 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 At an early hour after breakfast the next morning, 
 Hilton entered Underhill's parlor and presence with an 
 enthusiasm of greeting which seemed to indicate the 
 inflammation of strong drink, but which really sprang 
 from Southern sensibility and heartiness. 
 
 " Ah, my dear Colonel ! " he exclaimed, seizing and 
 squeezing both the young fellow's hands. " Colonel of 
 my heart and soul : My superior officer in the ranks of 
 chivalry ! So you didn't at once shake off our dust 
 from your feet ? I am delighted. I wanted one more 
 sight of your face. I come to look on you — to look up 
 at you. Colonel — and to congratulate you." 
 
 "Don't be satirical. General," returned Underhill, 
 rather glumly. " I am neither to be worshiped nor to 
 be envied." 
 
 " You still can't see your own position," said Hilton. 
 " It is a very noble one, much nobler than your wife's." 
 
 " My wife ? " repeated the husband, with an angry 
 laugh ; '' yes, I icas married, I believe. I suppose I am 
 married at this present moment. Does anybody know 
 where my wife is ? " . 
 
 The General made no reply to the petulant but nat- 
 ural sarcasm. He simply sat down with the patient 
 and compassionate air of a physician who perceives 
 that he has on hand a troublesome patient. 
 
 "I did dream of something different," continued 
 Underhill. " I did nurse a feeble, foolish hope that a 
 Southern lady might mean something when she swore 
 to love." 
 
 "And you?" inquired Hilton. "You could live 
 with her ? — would prefer it ? — now ? " 
 
142 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 " General, I didn't take any champagne last even- 
 ing," said Harry, speaking very deliberately and gravely. 
 *'I passed the evening, and a large part of the night 
 too, in thinking and remembering. Those vows re- 
 peated themselves to me over and over. That presence 
 haunted me. I decided not to leave here without try- 
 ing to see my wife. I decided that I should prefer to 
 live with her." 
 
 " I am glad beyond measure to know it," returned 
 Hilton, drawing a deep breath of satisfaction. "You 
 have given me greater pleasure than any other man 
 could possibly give me. I repeat and solemnly affirm 
 that you are worthy of your good fortune, and of all 
 good fortune. You are meeting these singular and very 
 trying circumstances in a noble spirit. If you are not 
 a Bayard," he concluded with a smile of wonder and 
 worship, *'' then we have no Bayards on earth." 
 
 " No, I am not a Bayard," denied Underbill, shaking 
 his head sorrowfully. " I came very near breaking pa- 
 role last evening. I should have run away with another 
 woman, if she would have let me." 
 
 " I don't marvel," conceded Hilton, though he looked 
 startled. " It must have been a trying hour. Well, I 
 praise you all the more — all the more because you did 
 the improbable — all the more because you had a temp- 
 tation and resisted it." 
 
 Underbill paused a moment, as if pondering some 
 fastidious subject, and then asked, "You remember 
 Miss Macmorran ? " 
 
 The General bowed urbanely, and raised his hand 
 with the gesture of a soldier saluting a superior officer. 
 
 "I owe her a kindness," murmured Harry. "She 
 saved me from doing a foolish and dishonorable act. 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 143 
 
 Can you help me in the matter, or rather in the manner, 
 of paying my debt ? " 
 
 " Colonel, oblige me by putting me to any trouble 
 on your account, or on hers. She is a most admirable 
 young lady. I don't care what her lineage is. I say 
 — lady ! " 
 
 " She would not accept a favor from me. I have 
 done her no wrong : ah ! yes, I have — I have pained 
 her. Never mind — I won't go over that. But she is 
 delicate and high-minded ; she would never accept my 
 kindnesses. Whatever is done for her must seem to 
 come from some other source." 
 
 Then, after some discussion, it was agreed that two 
 thousand dollars should be passed over to Hilton ; that 
 he should privately deliver it to the priest of Saint Pat- 
 rick's for the use and benefit of Norah Macmorran ; and 
 that she should be led, if possible, to look upon it as 
 the gift of the Church. With this money she would 
 be free to go to Europe and pursue her education in 
 music. 
 
 "That is what she wants," explained Underbill. 
 " It is the best thing I can do for her at present. It 
 must answer for the present." He paused, looked 
 steadily at the General with a bitter smile, and then 
 added, " It is a part of the money which I meant for 
 my bridal trip, in case such a trip might be." 
 
 "The bridal trip will come," affirmed Hilton. "I 
 promise and prophesy it, Colonel. No, doubt it de- 
 pends somewhat upon yourself how soon it shall come." 
 
 " Suppose I should make a morning call upon my 
 wife — a mere call of ceremony — and congratulation ? " 
 
 " I am glad to hope and believe that you wish to see 
 her," responded the General, disregarding the tone of 
 
144 TEE BLOODY CEA8M. 
 
 sarcasm. " But let me beg of you to be considerate," 
 he resumed, after a moment of meditation. "Don't 
 be hasty with regard to Miss Beaufort — I mean Mrs. 
 Underbill.'' 
 
 " She might fire on me, as her sister fired on Sher- 
 man's column." . 
 
 " Ah ! you have heard of that ? Well, now, I 
 don't want to say a word in excuse of such an act of 
 ecstatic madness — mere womanish excitability and hys- 
 teria, you of course understand — though our impas- 
 sioned people made a good deal of it at the time. But 
 it shows the nature of the Beaufort blood. It is a story 
 which says, Be gentle." 
 
 " I mean to be gentle." 
 
 " I hope you do seriously mean it. I thought you 
 spoke harshly — excuse me, I should say sardonically — a 
 moment ago." 
 
 "Very true. Of course, I am sardonic and indig- 
 nant. I had hoped — it was a ridiculous idea. General — 
 but I had hoped for a message this morning, a message 
 of ordinary courtesy, at least. You brought nothing of 
 the sort, I see." 
 
 Hilton shook his head and sighed, " Alas ! not yet." 
 
 " Well, who wouldn't be indignant ? " demanded Un- 
 derhill, striking his fist on the table. There was a 
 pause, and then he resumed with singular tranquillity, 
 and in a low voice : " Never mind all that. General, I 
 have decided what to do." 
 
 The old friend of the Beauf orts leaned forward with 
 an expression of extreme anxiety. 
 
 " Last night, all alone here, I came to a resolution," 
 continued Underhill. " I resolved to win my wife to 
 myself, if it cost me the labor of a life to do it." 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 145 
 
 The General leaned still farther forward and grasped 
 the young man's hand, murmuring: " Oh, God bless you, 
 my boy ! Do it ! She is worth a lifetime." 
 
 "I will," affirmed Underhill, as solemnly as if he 
 were registering an oath. " I will win her as surely as 
 the North won the South. I will do it — I will certainly 
 do it — no matter what it costs. If four years won't an- 
 swer, I will put in forty ! " 
 
 "Really, Colonel, you awe me," said Hilton, drop- 
 ping back in the chair and studying the young man's 
 face. " You are the North incarnate." 
 
 '• And my wife is the South." 
 
 " Yes — a woman," sighed the General, " a generous 
 and impassioned woman. The South has been just that, 
 and only that, all my lifetime. I see it now." 
 
 Underhill rose and walked the room in silence for a 
 minute or two. When he resumed his seat, he asked 
 quietly, " Shall I have your help ? " 
 
 " Yes — loyal help," fervently promised Hilton. " In 
 this fight I am a Union man, heart and soul." 
 
 " I expected as much of you, General ; still, I am 
 greatly obliged. Well, the first service that I want of 
 you is that you should bear a message to my wife." 
 • *' Colonel, I will bear it. I earnestly hope — excuse 
 me for presuming to counsel — I earnestly hope that it 
 will be a kind one." 
 
 " She won't think it kind, I suppose. You have 
 brought up your young people as madmen and mad- 
 women. They look upon an extended hand, if it is a 
 Northern hand, as an insult." 
 
 " Alas ! what could you expect ? We were beaten 
 and humiliated ; we were beaten in peace and beaten in 
 war — terribly humiliated in both. Please to remember, 
 
 7 
 
146 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 moreover, that in this particular case there have been 
 special reasons for bitterness." 
 
 " Yes, I remember. I am sorry for it. But there 
 are special reasons for good-will, too." 
 
 " Colonel, I admit it fully and gladly ; and I believe 
 that the good-will is sure to come." 
 
 " The message is this," said Underbill, after a mo- 
 ment of reflection. " Tell her that I have given her my 
 hand, and I now offer her my heart." 
 
 " Ah ! my dear fellow," exclaimed the General, ris- 
 ing in such enthusiasm and haste that his wooden leg 
 nearly gave way under him, and putting his hand on 
 the young man's shoulder, as much to find support as to 
 bestow a caress — " ah ! my noble friend, you have won 
 my heart, at all events. That message I will bear at 
 once, and I hope not unavailingly." 
 
 "Let me know the answer, whatever it may be," 
 called Underhill, leaning out of the door after the de- 
 parting veteran. 
 
 " You shall see me again to-day — within two hours, 
 if possible," promised Hilton as he tramped down the 
 resounding hall. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 While the General was making his way toward 
 Aunt Chloe's shanty, the inhabitants thereof were pack- 
 ing their small properties and otherwise preparing for a 
 migration to the venerable town-house of the Beauf orts, 
 abandoned some two years ago to the occupancy of 
 Confederate military officers, and, since their removal, 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 147 
 
 abandoned to rats and cockroaches. Virginia's purpose 
 was to gradually refit and refurnish it, and recommence 
 therein the Honored plenteous existence of other days. 
 Why should Beauforts relinquish the family mansion, 
 or depart from the sacred sand and muck of Charles- 
 ton? 
 
 The household was a remarkably cheerful one this 
 morning. There was a continuous tinkle of feminine 
 prattle, mingled at times with hilarity. Obviously, the 
 change from pinching poverty to full-handed wealth 
 was enough to efface, at least for the moment, many a 
 somber recollection, and every kind of foreboding. The 
 two ladies were gay, in spite of bygone bereavements 
 and disasters, and in spite of the thought that their pres- 
 ent prosperity had come to them from the Yankees. 
 The occasional remembrance of Mr. Underbill, even, 
 could not banish smiles from Mrs. Underhill's lips. Only 
 Mauma Chloe, that veteran grumbler, that maroon-col- 
 ored accusing angel, showed an intermittent disposition 
 to murmur and upbraid. 
 
 " We shall soon be out of this wretched den," said 
 Mrs. Dumont, striving in vain to be dignified, and not 
 to smile all the time. " Only half an hour more, and 
 we shall be in the dear old mansion again, the house 
 where Beauforts have lived and died for a century." ^ 
 
 "You hasn' been so powerful mis'able yere, Miss 
 Anna," retorted Aunt Chloe. " Yous enj'yed you' health 
 an' swallered you' vittles like a wil'-cat." 
 
 " I have been miserable," insisted Mrs. Dumont, with 
 great cheerfulness. "Don't tell that story to a born 
 lady who remembers that she has lived and slaved like 
 a sand-hiller." 
 
 " Sand-hillers don' work ef dey kin help it. Well, 
 
148 TEE ELOODY CEASM, 
 
 you has worked dat way — worked bekase you couldn' 
 help it." 
 
 " We don't want to be reminded of it, Chloe," 
 laughed Virginia, — " Never mind, Aunt Dumont, we 
 have come into our own again — or somebody else's own." 
 
 " You hasn' got all you' own. Miss Ginny," grum- 
 bled the Mauma. " Don' seem to be no husban' 'bout, 
 's he oughter be." 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't be harping on that," said the 
 bride, with just a momentary shade of gloom on her 
 face. '' It's quite enough to pay such a price for com- 
 fort, without being reminded of it every ten minutes." 
 
 " A husban's a mighty handy thing to have roun' a 
 house, an' mighty comfo'ting, too, fur a body as has 
 sense. You jess try yourn a month, honey. Ef you 
 gits tired on him, you kin quit agin, like niggah-folks. 
 'Tain't nohow fair play, dis yere 'rangement. You gits 
 a heap, and he gits nothin' ; you's better off, an' he's 
 wuss off. An' you calls it good luck, an' goes roun' 
 a-smirkin', like a niggah dat's stole a sheep an' got some- 
 body else in jail for it. Wonner what de raal ole-time 
 Beauf orts 'd say to 't ? Dey useter talk a heap 'bout 
 fair play, d' ole-time Beauforts did." 
 
 Virginia seemed to be stung at last, and with a slight 
 stamp of her slipper (the once bare foot was in a lovely 
 slipper now) she ordered Chloe to stop scolding. 
 
 " Spiled baby," muttered the old woman, meantime 
 petulantly cording a mattress. " Doos she s'pose d'whole 
 yea'th is gwine ter shet up bekase she stomps her foot ? 
 Other folks '11 talk ef I don't. Spiled baby ! — spiled 
 her myself — couldn' help it — she was so putty." 
 
 Presently Virginia heard approaching footsteps. 
 " There comes somebody," she said. " Remember, Chloe, 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 149 
 
 you are not to speak of my wedding, except to General 
 Hilton. It's to be hushed up as much as possible." 
 
 Then Hilton entered, and saluted everybody in his 
 most cheerful fashion, his face radiant with content over 
 the reestablished fortunes of the Beauforts. 
 
 " The evil days are over," he smiled. " What a 
 pleasure it is to think of you once more as being in cir- 
 cumstances of comfort — yes, and of opulence ! You are 
 situated as Beauforts should be — as Beauforts are ac- 
 customed to be." 
 
 " Ah, yes ! " answered Virginia, gayly. She was 
 young and could not help being elated by prosperity, 
 nor help showing her gladness. "Isn't it a relieJ&? 
 Isn't it delightful ? " 
 
 Presently she began to talk of the family debt to 
 Hilton. "I must begin to settle with my creditors,'' 
 she said. " I owe you over twenty thousand dollars. I 
 want to pay at once." 
 
 "You can't," the General laughed. "Your prin- 
 cipal, you must remember, is trusteed, and you can't 
 touch it. Your income is thirty thousand dollars, pay- 
 able in semi-annual installments — fifteen thousand every 
 six months. That is your situation financially." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! Well, but I can pay you ten thousand 
 pretty soon, can't I ? — and ten thousand more when 
 I get my next installment. In a year I can pay up 
 everything : that is, all the money — never the obliga- 
 tion." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont, poor woman, greatly terrorized by 
 the bygone poverty, looked scared at the thought of 
 parting with such a sum so soon. " Isn't there one ob- 
 jection to being hasty about this ? " she asked. " Sup- 
 pose Mr. Underbill should hear of the payment ? Isn't 
 
150 THE BLOODY CEA8M. 
 
 there some danger that he might think the General had 
 favored the marriage in order that Virginia might be 
 able to settle with him ? A Yankee, you know, would 
 judge from a selfish point of view." 
 
 Hilton smilingly waved away the supposition. " Not 
 this Yankee," he said. "As for the debt, I am in no 
 hurry. I am safe, and can wait. But as for Underhill's 
 suspicions, he knows all about my claim. I told him of 
 it myself ; I couldn't in honor do otherwise. Moreover, 
 the Colonel is incapable of a mean judgment. A more 
 high-minded young gentleman I never met." 
 
 " Dar, now ! " exulted Aunt Chloe. " D'ain't nothin' 
 so mean 'bout dem Yankees. Ef dey was mean, why 
 didn't dey take us fur dar own niggahs, 'stead o' givin' 
 us our freedom ? " 
 
 " You've got us there, aunty," the General laughed. 
 "As for this particular Yankee, you will respect and. 
 admire him — when you come to know him ! " 
 
 He seemed to be addressing Virginia, and that young 
 lady looked rather startled, not to say annoyed. " I 
 never shall know him ! " she retorted, hastily. " What 
 do you mean ? " 
 
 " Of course, she never will know him," echoed JVIrs. 
 Dumont, though not with her niece's energy. 
 
 " Xow, General, don't tell me that you are beginning 
 to take this man's part," implored Virginia. " If you 
 have brought me any message from him, you and I will 
 have a quarrel." 
 
 " My child, do be more calm," lectured Mrs. Du- 
 mont, who had a talent of good advice, and never buried 
 it in a naj^kin. *' Always remember what you are." 
 
 " She ain't no Beaufort," snapped Aunt Chloe. — 
 " Miss Ginny, remember dat you is a Underhill." 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 151 
 
 "I command you never to call me by that name 
 again ! " ordained the bride, her cheeks glowing. 
 
 The General glanced smilingly and patiently from 
 face to face during this dialogue. At last he said : " I 
 noticed as I came in that there was a hack at the door. 
 Perhaps I am interfering with the family pleasures. 
 Ah, butterflies of fashion ! A hack already ! '■ 
 
 " Dear me ! " exclaimed Mrs. Dumont, recollecting, 
 no doubt, that the vehicle was to be paid for by the 
 hour, and still troubled by a feeling that money was 
 very precious. *' Chloe, you and I must be off. — Do ex- 
 cuse us, General ; we are going to the dear old man- 
 sion ; we are moving out of this place — wretched 
 hole ! " 
 
 Uncle Phil and the coachman soon charged the hack 
 with packages and bundles. Then the General gave 
 Mrs. Dumont his arm, and gallantly escorted her to her 
 seat, followed by Aunt Chloe. As the two women 
 drove away, they looked out of the window of the ram- 
 shackle conveyance with smiles of satisfaction which 
 were really pathetic. 
 
 " Ain't dis yere like d' ole times ! " chuckled the 
 Mauma, who evidently considered Beaufort prosperities 
 as her own, whether in the past or the present. " It's 
 nigh upon three yeahs sence we's rid in a coach." 
 
 The General lifted his hat in stately farewell to Mrs. 
 Dumont, and returned to the cabin to deliver Under- 
 hill's message to Virginia. 
 
 " What have you got to say to me ? " she demanded, 
 after one glance at his thoughtful face. " I won't hear 
 it." 
 
 " My dear young lady, I am bearer of a word to you 
 from — " 
 
152 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 " I won't hear it — I won't hear it ! " interrupted the 
 girl, making a gesture of stopping her ears. 
 
 " I think you ought to hear it. Don't refuse when 
 you are ignorant of its tenor, and even of its subject." 
 
 " He was to let me alone, and I was to let him alone. 
 That was the understanding. Still," she hesitated, " if 
 it concerns business — " 
 
 " It concerns the marriage." 
 
 " Then I don't want to hear it. Please, my dear, 
 good old friend — please don't try to force it upon me." 
 
 " I think you ought to accord some weight to the 
 opinion of an old friend and a South Carolina gentle- 
 man. My opinion is, that you should listen to the mes- 
 sage." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " groaned Virginia, in whose eyes real 
 gentlemen. Southern gentlemen, were great beings. " I 
 want to do what a lady should, however disagreeable it 
 may be. Well, if I ought, I must. What is it ? " 
 
 *' Let me beg of you in advance to note one thing — a 
 lady and a Beaufort should note it : This young man 
 has put his happiness at stake, if he has not absolutely 
 sacrificed it, in order to give you this fortune. For 
 your sake (and he owed you nothing, remember), he has 
 sacrificed a liberty and opportunities which a young 
 man must necessarily hold very dear. It was a most 
 noble action. I doubt if ever a Beaufort did a nobler." 
 
 Virginia had the susceptible conscience and the ten- 
 der feelings of youth. Her face expressed conviction of 
 wrong, and her lips quivered with a sense of humilia- 
 tion, as she answered, " What are you siding against me 
 for ? " 
 
 " My dear child, I am not siding against you ; I am 
 not condemning you." 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 153 
 
 " You arc. You intimated that there was one Beau- 
 fort less magnanimous than this Federal officer. I wish 
 you would speak out. Am I a mean woman for taking 
 this money ? " 
 
 " The lawful owner of it meant it for you. You did 
 right in taking it. But ought you not to go further ? 
 He had other wishes." 
 
 " I could give it up rather than scorn myself," sighed 
 Virginia. 
 
 " And send your aunt back to ironing rather than 
 scorn yourself ? Besides, the marriage was yesterday, 
 and not to-morrow." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " the girl repeated, her mind reverting 
 to the scene of her bridal. " What a horrible evening 
 it was ! I wonder I slept after it." 
 
 • "Keep the estate, of course," pursued the General. 
 " It was meant for you, and you terribly need it. But 
 you ought to keep the man also." 
 
 " I've got to keep him," said Virginia, with a sim- 
 plicity which w^ould have been amusing, only that she 
 suddenly broke into sobs. It was necessarily a terrible 
 thing to a young woman to lose every hope and imagi- 
 nation of hope as to ever marrying any one whom she 
 could love. " I'm as much bound and chained as he is,'' 
 she went on, as soon as she could speak. " More ! He 
 can get a divorce. He can go to some of those horrid 
 Northern States, and get a divorce for abandonment." 
 
 " He is a gentleman ; there is no doubt of that," 
 said Hilton. " Suppose he doesn't choose to dishonor 
 himself, and publish his dishonor to the world ? " 
 
 " Ah — well ! " sighed Virginia, in the tone of a 
 woman who gives up a hope — a shabby hope which she 
 was ashamed of. " Then he means to hold me ? Well, 
 
154 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 he can. I sha'n't ask for a divorce. InTo South Carolina 
 lady ever did. There are no divorces here, thank 
 Heaven ! " 
 
 " I take it for granted that you have no such pur- 
 pose," returned the General, very gravely. "It would 
 not be suited to a person of your blood." 
 
 " You needn't fear," declared the girl, reddening. 
 " I shall keep for life the exact agreement that I made. 
 I shall remember what I am and who I am." 
 
 " Will you kindly and considerately hear the mes- 
 sage which I have thought it right and decorous to 
 bear ? " 
 
 " I must, if you bring it," gasped Virginia. 
 
 Hilton paused a moment, and then said, with a ten- 
 der and touching solemnity, "Mr. Underhiir charged 
 me to say that he had given you his hand, and that he 
 now offers you his heart." 
 
 Virginia sprang to her feet, and recoiled two or 
 three steps, as if from the offer of a serpent. Her face 
 was crimson all over, her eyebrows were joined in a 
 straight line, and her eyes were dilated, black, and 
 sparkling. She looked as terrible as a beautiful young 
 woman well can. 
 
 " His heart ? " she demanded, in a kind of scream. 
 " What does the man mean ? How can he give me his 
 heart ? He has never seen me. He must hate me — as 
 I hate him. We shall always hate each other. We are 
 enemies for life." 
 
 " Think of it," urged the General, in a low, quieting 
 voice. " Think of it by yourself, and as kindly as you 
 
 can." 
 
 ** I will not think of it ! Oh, my dear friend, I can't. 
 How can I ? Remember my brothers and my sister. 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 155 
 
 How could I live with him ? Do advise with him ; tell 
 him all about it ; tell him it can't be. I don't want to 
 be harsh with him. Tell him I thank him — thank 
 him on my very knees — for what he has done for me. 
 But he wouldn't be happy with me. I couldn't make 
 him happy. He couldn't make me happy. Tell him 
 that— do ! " 
 
 " Ah, dear ! " sighed Hilton, very sadly. " Is this 
 final ? " 
 
 " Yes — oh, yes ! Have pity on me and say so. Per- 
 suade him that it is final, and that he musnt't try to 
 change it." 
 
 "I am greatly disappointed and grieved," said the 
 General, rising to go. " But I will honorably tell him 
 what you have said." 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! What a weight you take off my 
 heart ! " 
 
 " To lay it on his," murmured Hilton. " Well — now 
 we have done with the subject — for the present." 
 
 " For ever," insisted Virginia. Then a new thought 
 seemed to strike her, and she asked, with eager interest : 
 " Where is he ? What is he going to do ? Does he 
 mean to stay here ? " 
 
 " I understand that he is disposed to remain for a 
 time," stated the General. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " exclaimed the girl. " This breaks 
 up all my plans. I am so disappointed ! I had hoped 
 and trusted that I was to be free and undisturbed. I 
 wanted to reoccupy the old mansion. But, if he 
 stays here, that ends everything. I can't meet him 
 — I can't, you know. I must go to Europe and hide 
 there." 
 
 " It is very sad," groaned Hilton, as he opened the 
 
156 TEE BLOODY CHASM, 
 
 door. " Well, my kindest wishes to you, and my ad- 
 vice whenever you want it. Good-by, my child." 
 
 " Good-by," answered Virginia, and sat down in the 
 old rush-bottomed chair, crying bitterly. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 The immediate result of Underhill's offer of his 
 heart was, that his wife gave up the stately project of 
 abiding in the mansion of her forefathers and made a 
 hasty hegira to Europe. 
 
 She led away into the desert of earth (afar from 
 the Arabia Felix of South Carolina and the Mecca of 
 Charleston) her aunt and her two faithful adherents, 
 Mauma Chloe and Uncle Phil. She would not pass 
 through the triumphant and barbarous North ; she 
 revolted from the idea of taking a Northern line of 
 steamers. It was dreadful even to think of seeing 
 hordes of Yankees, and of sitting cheek by jowl at 
 table with abolitionists, and of being easily tracked by 
 one's Bostonian husband. For the sake of securing all 
 possible secrecy and tranquillity, the romantic evasion 
 was made by a fruiterer to Havana, and thence by 
 Spanish steamer to Cadiz. Afterward came a leisure- 
 ly, a marvelous, an unexpectedly comforting saunter 
 through Spain, Italy, and Switzerland, ending, as the 
 European journeyings of Americans must, with an en- 
 try into Paris. We shall find them amid the clocks 
 and mirrors and other knickknackeries of a handsome 
 apartment on the second floor of the Hotel du Louvre. 
 
 Virginia, who has just returned from a drive through 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 157 
 
 the glamour of Parisian squares and architecture and 
 triumphal columns, is exclaiming and repeating : *' I 
 am so glad we ventured to come here ! What a won- 
 derful, beautiful, bewitching city ! " 
 
 " It is a Babylon," declares Mrs. Dumont, who can 
 not forget the poverty-stricken sanctity of South Caro- 
 lina, though she has obviously done much expensive 
 shopping of late, and is arrayed in rather Babylonish 
 garments. " God will visit it some day with the besom 
 of destruction," she adds, rolling up her eyes at the 
 crystal chandelier. " Such pride and luxury Avill surely 
 bring judgment." 
 
 " My dear aunt, you have called every city that we 
 have seen a Babylon," laughs Virginia. " Every place 
 bigger than Charleston you have set down for a visita- 
 tion." 
 
 " There is no use in any place being bigger than 
 Charleston," says Mrs. Dumont, with firmness and so- 
 lemnity. 
 
 " Except for the purpose of holding more people," 
 is the comment of a young woman who has evidently 
 learned to like big places. 
 
 " The greater the city, the greater the iniquity of 
 it," affirms the elder lady, refusing to smile or be com- 
 forted. " I recoil from masses of people. I abhor a 
 crowd. A man ran against me in the street to-day. 
 Of course, he touched his hat and begged pardon ; but 
 still one doesn't like to have one's ribs joggled by a 
 perfect stranger. There is too much of our fallen hu- 
 manity here. Soul and body are alike in danger amid 
 such a multitude. I am filled with terror and grief 
 when I think of Paris. I feel like a prophet of old, 
 looking for the coming of the spoiler." 
 
158 TEE BLOODY CHASM, 
 
 " Perhaps we are a little envious, aunt. It is rather 
 humiliating to find that Charleston is only a hamlet." 
 
 " It is a ruin," cries Mrs. Dumont, proudly. 
 
 " I hope that doesn't prove that it has been a sink 
 of iniquity." 
 
 " Virginia ! You shock me. What do you mean 
 by such wild talk ? " 
 
 " I dare say the Yankee preachers make that infer- 
 ence quite seriously." 
 
 " No doubt of it. Shame on them ! The hypocriti- 
 cal inquisitors ! " 
 
 Virginia yawned — actually yawned over the ques- 
 tion of North and South, including the desolation of 
 Charleston. It seemed fearfully possible that absence 
 from home and much gazing upon the great, fascinating 
 world outside of South Carolina had begun to lull to 
 sleep her once wakeful local patriotism. 
 
 "I can't seem to care so much here," she yawned 
 again. " Paris is so beautiful — so absorbing and fasci- 
 nating ! " 
 
 "Virginia, you must not forget your country. If 
 South Carolina is nothing, we are nothing. It is the 
 home of the Beauforts and of chivalry." 
 
 " Not now, dear aunt. There are no more Beau- 
 forts, and there will soon be no more chivalry." 
 
 " Oh, dear ! " groaned Mrs. Dumont, smiting her 
 breast and turning up her eyes. " All our heroes gone ! 
 All our grand hopes dashed ! We were to have had a 
 chivalry of title. It would have come in time. The 
 first families only, of course — the rice and long-staple 
 cotton families. I am sure nothino; could have been 
 more natural and proper. The Beauforts and Dumonts, 
 for instance, were not only great planting people, but 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM, 159 
 
 they were undoubtedly noble before they crossed the 
 Atlantic. It would have been as proud and grand a 
 peerage as any on the face of the earth ; I mean mor- 
 ally and intellectually. Of course, there would have 
 been no castles. It would have been an aristocracy — 
 as your father and Mr. Dumont used to say — like that 
 of Cincinnatus, who plowed his own fields. True no- 
 bility lies in noble blood, and in that alone. Your 
 uncle often uttered those very words." 
 
 "And the noble blood has been all spilt," sighed 
 Virginia. " Oh, the dreadful subject ! I used to want 
 to talk about it. Kow I don't." 
 
 "I wish we had some friend to speak to of our 
 sorrows," said Mrs. Dumont. " I would not have them 
 die out of mind. It would be like suffering the tomb- 
 stones of one's family to go to decay. General Hilton 
 will soon be here, with his sublime wooden leg. What 
 a sad pleasure it will be to meet him ! I would rather 
 listen to the thump of a Confederate soldier's stump 
 than to an opera. By-the-way, Virginia, you must 
 resume your music. When do you propose to be- 
 gin ? " 
 
 At this moment Aunt Chloe entered the room, fat 
 and jolly in face and neat in costume, though still queer 
 about the head in consequence of a high-colored tur- 
 ban. 
 
 " Well ! this is pretty behavior," exclaimed Mrs. 
 Dumont. " We expected to find you here to take off 
 our things when we got in. Virginia had to pull off 
 my bootees, my feet were so swollen ! Where in the 
 name of wonder have you been ? " 
 
 " Laws a massy ! dunno," returned Chloe. " Jess 
 allowed we never should git back yere agin. Ye see, 
 
160 THE BLOODX CHASM. 
 
 me an' Phil we went over to dat other big hotel — dat 
 are one right crost de way — " 
 
 " She means the palace of the Louvre," suggested 
 Virginia. 
 
 " 'Specs likely," assented the Mauma. " But we 
 allowed it was a hotel, an' reckoned we might see 
 some 'Mericans 'bout ; an' so, 's everybody was gwine 
 in, we went in with the crowd. Laws a massy ! sech 
 a lot o' stone gods an' picters an' all sawts o' things — 
 rooms an' rooms an' rooms an' rooms full of 'em — never 
 s'posed dar could be s' many rooms in one house, nor in 
 one town — kinder seemed sometimes 's though we'd 
 got to another city. An we got los' — jess entirely los' 
 — like chil'n in de wood — could'n' find our way out no- 
 how. Tell ye, we was skeered ; we walked an' walked 
 an' walked ; reckon we walked mo'n forty mile ; did 
 so, Miss Ginny — need'n' snicker. Tell ye, dat ar hotel 
 is bigger inside dan it is outside — bigger'n all Charles- 
 ton. Well, finally we met up with a man looked like 
 he was one of our folks ; an' Phil says to him, says he, 
 * Boss, kin you speak English ? ' An' he 'lowed he 
 could. An' so, as he was a-gwine out, he shown us the 
 do', an' tole us which way to travel, fur we was clean 
 turned round, an' did'n' know where to go no more'n a 
 cat what's been kerried away from home in a meal-bag 
 an' had his feet buttered. An' so heah we is. But dat 
 ar hotel is jess wonnerful. Dar's mo' stone gods in it 
 dan dar is folks in Charleston. Is so. You ask Phil. 
 Doos dese yere French people wusship 'em. Miss Ginny ? " 
 
 " No, aunty ; they keep them as curiosities," briefly 
 explained the young lady. " There are just such gal- 
 leries in several places where we have been, only you 
 didn't happen into them." 
 
THE BLODLY CHASM. 161 
 
 She had laughed heartily and in quite a girlish way 
 over Chloe's adventures. There was far more gladness 
 in her mirth than during the old Charleston days — the 
 sad, fierce days after the war, when her blood beat only 
 with grief and vindictiveness. 
 
 " Aunt Dumont, you and I have been here a week 
 and haven't seen the Louvre yet," she went on. "It 
 is a perfect shame. It looks as though we were barba- 
 rians." 
 
 "Barbarians ! " bridled Mrs. Dumont. " I don't see 
 so much civilization and refinement in blasphemous pict- 
 ures and naked images. Beauforts have got along, and 
 have been gentlemen and ladies, without all these dread- 
 ful things which one meets in the public places, making 
 a decent woman ashamed to go out. Your uncle used to 
 tell Mr. AUston, the painter, that he trusted the age of 
 art never would come in South Carolina. And it never 
 has. Your uncle was generally correct. Barbarians, 
 indeed ! I don't yet look upon myself as a Vandal. 
 You must remember, too, that our time has been com- 
 pletely taken up with practical and pressing matters. 
 Just think how much shopping and fitting we have 
 done in the last week ! " 
 
 " We must go to the Louvre to-morrow," said Vir- 
 ginia, with her characteristic decision. 
 
 "Well — if we must," sighed the senior lady. "I 
 suppose I shall have to see all the vanities of this great 
 Babylon — see them and lament for them, because their 
 day of wrath will come. If Charleston could be visited 
 with chastisements, what will not happen to Paris ? " 
 
 "Aunt, you are always opening the sealed vials," 
 Virginia smiled. " At any rate, Paris won't be bom- 
 barded by Gillmore," she added, with a transient frown 
 
162 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 of somber reminiscence. " There is a pleasure in think- 
 ing that some places are beyond that man's reach." 
 
 " Wretched Yandal ! " hissed Mrs. Diimont. 
 
 "Does you mind, Miss Anna," asked Aunt Chloe, 
 " how one o' dem rotten shot upsot Phil's watermillion- 
 table, an' sont de watermillions a-flyin' ? " 
 
 "I saw it myself," returned Miss Anna, sternly. 
 " War in all its horrors ! The crimson pulps of the 
 melons covered the pavement. I thought they were 
 pieces of Philip." 
 
 " An' nex' day we scooted up country," pursued 
 Chloe. " Was skeered some all de way, I was. Didn' 
 know jess how fur dat ar swamp-angel could kerry." 
 
 " It is a perfect nightmare yet," shuddered Virginia. 
 " Do stop talking of it! I want to be happy while I am 
 in Paris." 
 
 " Goody gracious me ! I mos' done fo'got suthin'," 
 said Aunt Chloe, presently. " Dar was a man down- 
 stairs, Miss Ginny, ast me what you' name is." 
 
 " What man ? " demanded the young lady, coloring 
 with anxiety. " What sort of a man ? A Yankee ? " 
 
 " Reckon 'twan't no Yankee, bekase he spoke French; 
 only we could unnerstand him, bekase he spoke it like 
 it was English." 
 
 " Oh ! broken English ; one of the clerks, I suppose," 
 guessed Yirgina. " I hope you didn't tell him my name 
 was Underhill." 
 
 " Tole him I wasn' clar jess yet, an' I'd step up an' 
 ast you. 'Specs likely dey're boddered 'bout it. Ye see 
 I calls ye Miss Ginny ; an' dat ar carrier-man he seen 
 Beaufort on your trunk an' he called ye Miss Beaufort ; 
 an' so dey're boddered." 
 
 " And it was Underhill on the passport," interjected 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM, 163 
 
 Mrs. Dumont. "I wonder what it is on the hotel- 
 books ? " 
 
 " Man said 'twas Beaufort," stated Chloe. " Wanted 
 ter knew ef 'twas right." 
 
 " Let it stay Beaufort," muttered Virginia. 
 
 " But your letters, my dear — your business letters ? " 
 suggested the aunt. 
 
 " They come through our banker. He knows that 
 there is an Underbill among us. The letters won't go 
 astray. Do, for pity's sake, let me be a Beaufort some- 
 where ! " 
 
 " An' play 'possum ? " demanded Aunt Chloe, with 
 arms akimbo. " An' git you'self co'ted, like you was a 
 young lady ? " 
 
 " I won't be courted, you old goosey," said Virginia. 
 " You needn't stick out your neck and hiss at me." 
 
 " But the passport, my dear ! " urged Mrs. Dumont. 
 " The hotel people had the passport, and probably the 
 police saw it. We shall surely get into some dreadful 
 muddle." 
 
 " We must change quarters, then, and see what that 
 will do," returned Mrs. Underbill, who was evidently 
 bent on getting herself called Beaufort once more. 
 " We'll run about to-morrow and look up an apartment. 
 Indeed, we must get out of the hotel, if I mean ever to 
 pay up General Hilton." 
 
 "An' call you'self Miss Beaufort?" persisted Aunt 
 Chloe. 
 
 Vii'ginia hesitated a moment, and then answered 
 resolutely, " Yes ! " 
 
 "Dar'U be some judgment on dese yere doin's," pro- 
 phesied the old woman. " You wait an' see. De Lawd 
 ain't never in no hurry to shoot, but he's mighty sartin 
 
16J: TEE BLOODY CHASM, 
 
 to hit. Better keep away from him, ef you kin find 
 out how to do't. Don, see how you dast go to church. 
 Grasshopper mus' be mighty drunk when he walk home 
 by hen-house." 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 An apartment of reasonable cost, size, and garnish- 
 ment was secured in a street running parallel with the 
 great avenue of the Champs-Elysees ; and Virginia en- 
 tered it as Miss Beaufort, not indeed positively asserting 
 the name, but as it were permitting it to fall back upon 
 her. 
 
 Then followed three months in Paris, without any 
 noteworthy incident beyond a patient application to 
 French and an enthusiastic study of music. Meanwhile 
 there was of course a pleasant, humdrum routine of 
 shopping, walking, and driving, followed perhaps in the 
 evening by cheerful theatre-going, or ecstatic attend- 
 ance on the opera. 
 
 What spare hours our young lady found at home 
 were mainly given to books of verse, both French and 
 English. Not only was she at the age which most 
 adores poetry, and which is disposed to accept a poet as 
 akin to the demigods, but there were wounds in her 
 heart which demanded the consolations of that soul's 
 cup-bearer, the imagination. Her past had been blighted 
 by bereavements, and her future by an enforced self- 
 sacrifice. That detested marriage of hers, be it ob- 
 served, was equivalent to a disappointment in love, and 
 seemingly a disappointment for life. It was no wonder 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 165 
 
 that she read poetry daily, and with passionate enjoy- 
 ment and admiration. 
 
 Very much of the verse of the time was curiously 
 new to her. After the fashion of the best families of 
 South Carolina, the Beauforts had deigned to own few 
 books which had not been read and approved by their 
 ancestors, such as the works of Shakespeare, Milton, 
 Addison, Pope, Johnson, and Hannah More. Byron and 
 Shelley had been sternly forbidden to Virginia by a 
 Puritan mother and a Roman father. Scarcely any- 
 thing more modern than Cowper's " Task " had been 
 placed in her girlish hands. It is an almost incredible 
 yet entirely positive fact that the Brownings and Ten- 
 nyson were revelations to this young lady, who looked 
 upon herself as a result of the highest culture of the 
 century. In other directions than poetry, moreover, 
 her education had been limited. The South had poured 
 its every dollar into the ravenous vortex of civil war, 
 and even its female schools had been broken up by the 
 dropping away of impoverished scholars. Virginia, 
 left alone at the beginning of the struggle with an 
 elderly and much-troubled father, had not recited a les- 
 son nor picked up a text-book since she was sixteen. 
 No marvel that she was hungry to read, and that her 
 eagerest craving was for poetry, the natural food of in- 
 telligent and fervid youth. 
 
 Acquaintances she did not seek, and for a time none 
 intruded upon her. Huge and miscellaneous Paris, per- 
 haps, took some note of the young lady, always more or 
 less veiled, who never drove out except in a close coupe, 
 and never walked without the accompaniment of a ma- 
 ture friend or a negro attendant. But Paris regarded 
 the phenomenon composedly, and made no eifort to in- 
 
166 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 vade its privacy. As for the American colony, our 
 Beauforts knew that it consisted mainly of Northerners, 
 and they consequently wanted nothing to do with it. 
 The colony, on the other hand, never troubled its mani- 
 fold head about them, at least so far as could be dis- 
 covered. 
 
 It was a lonesome, and at times a slightly dreary, 
 existence. Distinctly dreary it was to Mrs. Dumont, 
 who could not speak French, knew naught of the joys 
 of music, and had small taste for reading anything but 
 sermons and the prayer-book. It fretted her, moreover, 
 to perceive that Beauforts were not sought after by 
 Paris, and to suspect that they were not reverenced out- 
 side of South Carolina. She began to nourish plans for 
 getting into the native society, and, more particularly, 
 into that of the Faubourg Saint-Germain. At last she 
 energetically opened the matter to her niece. 
 
 "I think we ought to see somebody," she said. 
 *' Not Americans — there are no Americans here whom 
 we want to know — I mean European somebodies. We 
 really ought to visit and invite a little." 
 
 "I don't think I ought," was Virginia's judgment. 
 " What can a woman situated as I am do in society ? 
 It wouldn't be decent in me to try to be a butterfly of 
 fashion." 
 
 " But French society is grave," urged Mrs. Dumont. 
 " It is sad and grave, like our own. I don't mean the 
 imperial hurly-burly, but the old legitimist circle. You 
 would find it just suited to your tastes and feelings, 
 Virginia ; and you certainly speak French well enough 
 to be at ease in it." 
 
 " But ho^ are we to get into it ? The Faubourg 
 Saint-Germain is very exclusive." 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 167 
 
 " France is the country of our ancestors, my child. 
 The Beauforts were French ; so were the Dumonts, and 
 both high blood. Ko one in South Carolina would con- 
 sider it singular or unsuitable to see you married to a 
 French noble of the old stock." 
 
 " What an idea ! I am married already — to my sor- 
 row." 
 
 The aunt remained silent for some moments, wrapped 
 in profound meditation. At last she said : " We don't 
 hear a word from that man. It is borne in upon me 
 that he is getting a divorce, as Yankees frequently do, 
 when they are not grubbing for dollars." 
 
 " I don't suppose a noble of the old regime would 
 take up with a divorced American ; do you, Aunt Du- 
 mont ? " 
 
 Even Aunt Dumont seemed to give it up, now that 
 it was put to her in that way. There was another pe- 
 riod of musing, and then she brought forth the astound- 
 ing suggestion, " It might be that Mr. Underbill could 
 become a noble." 
 
 " What ! " responded Virginia, opening her eyes 
 very wide. 
 
 " With his military rank and his great fortune, you 
 see," explained Mrs. Dumont. " As a soldier he would 
 be considered all right here. I should think he might 
 easily buy a title of this corrupt empire." 
 
 " And then what ? Would you have me live with 
 him ? " 
 
 " He wouldn't be a Yankee any longer, you know. 
 He would be a Frenchman." 
 
 "My dear aunt, I should think you were dreaming 
 with your eyes open." •^ 
 
 " It's no great wonder if I am," declared Mrs. Du- 
 
168 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 mont, yawning with an air of extreme ennxd. "My 
 life is every bit as stupid as a sleep. One can't 
 doze for ever. The very next Southern lady I meet, 
 whethier at the banker's or Galignani's, I shall speak to 
 her." 
 
 The result of this desperate resolve was an acquaint- 
 ance with a pretty and apparently wealthy young widow 
 from Baltimore. Mrs. Fitz James had been a year or 
 so in Paris, but did not object to new intimacies. She 
 was very social, very lively in disposition, prattled much 
 and gayly and heedlessly, and had a slight air of being 
 over-Europeanized. The suave polish of Baltimore just 
 saved her from being a hoyden in manner, but probably 
 nothing earthly could have saved her from being a hoy- 
 den in spirit. In person she was a small and plump 
 brunette, with an oval face, regular features, and melt- 
 ing black eyes. 
 
 The comparatively grave Virginia, an earnest soul 
 by nature, and matured by early sorrows and agitations, 
 did not much fancy the mercurial widow. But Mrs. 
 Dumont would not be denied all human converse : she 
 urged that Marylanders were Southerners, and must be 
 treated accordingly ; she insisted on making a lap for 
 the kitten-like Mrs. Fitz James. Moreover, the latter 
 took a sort of passion for Miss Beaufort, as she called 
 our heroine ; she adored her complexion, her dresses, 
 her voice, and her execution ; in short, she coaxed her 
 way to an intimacy. 
 
 One day she rustled into Virginia's apartment in the 
 company of a gentleman. " My dear Miss Beaufort ! " 
 she laughed and buzzed. *^ So delighted to find you ! 
 Let me introduce my brother, Mr. Frank Hedstone. So 
 glad to make you acquainted ! — This is Mrs. Dumont, 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 169 
 
 Frank — a lady of the old regime. Make your reverence 
 to her." 
 
 " Great pleasure — quite honored," murmured Mr. 
 Iledstone, in a silvery voice, and with a very soft, sweet 
 demeanor. " I have the best of sisters, ladies. I begged 
 hard to come here, and she hadn't the heart to refuse." 
 
 He closely resembled his sister : he was small and 
 dark, with an oval face and bright, black eyes ; his 
 manner, however, had more tranquillity and insinuation. 
 His black hair had vanished from his forehead, and yet 
 he could not have been above thirty. There was some- 
 thing in his expression which bespoke dissipation, or at 
 least a considerable degree of moral laxity. 
 
 *' How could I refuse a brother ? " giggled Mrs. Fitz 
 James. 
 
 " Or any other gentleman ? " added Mr. Hedstone, 
 teasingly jocose in a brotherly way, but very silvery and 
 quiet withal. 
 
 " Ain't you ashamed, Frank ! — He's always banter- 
 ing me. Well, I have a right to like gentlemen ; we 
 are commanded to love our enemies. My dear Miss 
 Beaufort, how are you ? That grenadine is so becom- 
 ing ! I wish I had a slender figure. How well you are 
 looking ! I never see you out, and I know why. You 
 just stay at home and work at keeping yourself 
 fresh." 
 
 " I don't think of it," returned Virginia, laughing, 
 but protesting. " I stay at home to study French and 
 music." 
 
 " She is at work from morning till night," put in 
 Mrs. Dumont, with the natural cluck of the last Beau- 
 fort hen over the last Beaufort chicken. 
 
 " Ah, Miss Beaufort ! " sighed Hedstone. " I had 
 8 
 
170 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 hoped that time hung heavy on your hands. I had 
 hoped that I should be welcome." 
 
 As Virginia did not reply instantly, Mrs. Dumont 
 interfered to say that Mr. Hedstone was quite welcome. 
 " And Mrs. Fitz James also," she added. " South Caro- 
 linians always accord a welcome to — " 
 
 "To true Southerners," she would probably have 
 said ; but Mrs. Fitz James could not wait for her tc 
 finish. " O Miss Beaufort ! " she broke in, " let me say, 
 before I forget it, that I have found you a professor — 
 such an elegant, charming, dear little man — quite the gen- 
 tleman, I assure you. You can discharge your German 
 boor now. I beg leave to insist upon it." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont, by dint of being spry about it, found 
 a chance to say, " I am glad you have found a gentle- 
 man for her." 
 
 " Gentilhomme ! " nodded and smiled Mrs. Fitz 
 James. ""Pra^ geyitilhomme^ Mrs. Dumont. Noble 
 blood — ancient house." 
 
 " Capital little fellow, too, De Bethune is," fluted 
 Hedstone. " Shares my admiration for my sister, 
 and of course deserves my good word, as well as 
 hers." 
 
 " Do hush, Frank ! " giggled the lively widow. " Mrs. 
 Dumont won't understand your babble. — It's nothing of 
 the sort. Miss Beaufort. I'm chiefly interested just now 
 in a Colonel Peyton — a new acquaintance lately come 
 from Virginia ; I'll tell you about him some time. As 
 for De Bethune, I like him too ; who wouldn't ? He 
 is a noble — oh ! a real one — no doubt about that — an 
 awfully old house. — What was the story, Frank?" 
 
 " One of his ancestors was made Seigneur d'Aumale 
 by Richard the Lion-hearted," stated Hedstone. 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 171 
 
 " Coeur de Lion ! time of the Crusades ! " exclaimed 
 Mrs. Fitz James. " Wasn't that splendid ? " 
 
 " Indeed it was," said Mrs. Dumont, almost awe- 
 stricken. Then she looked puzzled, and asked, "But 
 why does he teach music ? " 
 
 *' Oh ! he is so fond of it," rattled the unreflecting 
 widow. "Perfectly enthusiastic." 
 
 " But they lost the title, Lotharinga," explained her 
 
 brother. 
 
 " No, they didn't lose it — not at all," asserted Lotha- 
 
 ringa. 
 
 " Yes, they did, centuries ago," insisted Hedstone. 
 " There's no such title as Seigneur d'Aumale. It went 
 to some other family, I'm not sure what one, except that 
 it wasn't Hedstone." 
 
 " Was it the house of Guise?" asked Virginia, who 
 had just finished Macaulay's " Battle of Ivry," and so 
 knew something about the first Duke of Aumale. 
 
 " Precisely," said Hedstone, bowing with gay rev- 
 erence to so much learning. "It went to the great 
 house of Guise, and became a dukedom, and is so still, 
 as I remember, now that I bend my mind to it." 
 
 " Wasn't that splendid ! " exclaimed Mrs. Fitz 
 
 James. 
 
 « ^Yell— not for the De Bethunes ; was it ? " ques- 
 tioned Virginia. 
 
 "Whv, no — come to think of it — not for them," 
 laughed Lotharinga. " But all the same, the professor 
 is a noble, you see. And he is such a charming man ! 
 Such a refined, pensive expression ! Such elegant, soft 
 manners ! You don't see anything of exactly that type 
 in our plain country." 
 
 " I assure you that in South Carolina—" began Mrs. 
 
172 TEE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 Dumont, only to be stopped off by that canary of a 
 Lotbaringa. 
 
 " Oh ! you must take him, Miss Beaufort," she twit- 
 tered. Then came a bird-like giggle, " Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 I don't mean as a husband, but as an instructor. Dear 
 me, how you blush ! — How she blushes, Mrs. Dumont ! I 
 would give anything for such bewitching innocence and 
 sensibility." 
 
 '* Alas ! " smiled the festive brother. " The down 
 once gone from the wings of the butterfly — " 
 
 " Do hush your poetry, Frank ! I never had any 
 wings to speak of. — Well, there is some truth in it. It 
 hardens one awfully. Miss Beaufort, to get married. 
 You don't know anything about it. — There you go 
 blushing again, in the very loveliest fashion ! South 
 Carolina must be a nunnery, or garden of Eden, or some- 
 thing of that sort." 
 
 " Lotharinga, you would make a statue blush," said 
 the genial Hedstone. — "Miss Beaufort, please don't 
 judge me by my sister. I am as full of seriousness as 
 she is of frivolity." 
 
 Meanwhile, Mrs. Fitz James's expression bespoke 
 meditation. " But I don't see why you shouldn't take 
 the professor," she presently added, nodding her saucy 
 little head. " I don't see why you shouldn't take him, 
 in the full sense of the word. You have lots of money. 
 You could buy back the title, or buy some other." 
 
 Virginia's cheek flushed deeply with embarrassment, 
 and perhaps also with vexation. 
 
 *' Now don't say nonsense ! " twittered Mrs. Fitz. 
 "You can afford it, and I can't. My dearest million- 
 aire, I admire him excessively ; but I give him up to 
 you, all for his good." 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 173 
 
 " I am not a millionaire, and I don't propose to be a 
 duchess," said Virginia, in the tone of one who means 
 to close a subject. 
 
 " You shall do just as you please about it," laughed 
 the undisturbed Lotharinga. "Well, I have finished 
 my business.— Come, Frank, let us go. You've got your 
 entree here now, and you mustn't be tkesome on your 
 first call, as I know you want to be." 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Two or three days later the Baltimoreans came 
 again to smile and prattle in Virginia's parlor. 
 
 This time Mrs. Fitz James was diffuse on the sub- 
 ject of that Colonel Peyton whom she had alluded to in 
 her last visit. 
 
 He was a " perfectly charming man," she declared 
 and reiterated. " Very handsome : that is, not so su- 
 perhumanly handsome — not an Apollo Belvedere, you 
 know. I really think De Bethune has more classic feat- 
 ures. But the Colonel is so noble in manner ! so full 
 of moral dignity ! It is enough to turn any woman's 
 head to hear his noble talk. I won't try to give you an 
 idea of it ; I get foundered on those subjects right 
 away. But what I admire most is his figure : just tall 
 enough, and so strong and vigorous ! He's a great deal 
 better built than poor De Bethune, whose legs are really 
 too pitiable — made to get about on, rather than to look 
 at — like so many Frenchmen's. I proposed to him — 
 that is, to the Colonel, you know — to come here." 
 
174 TEE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 Mr. Hedstone glanced sidelong at his sister, as if to 
 see whether she were telling the truth or not. 
 
 "But he seems shy," continued Lotharinga. " Shy 
 or sad. I sometimes think he has a sorrow at heart. 
 He certainly is pensive. I do believe there is a mystery 
 about him — don't you, Frank ? " 
 
 " Very gentlemanly, intelligent fellow, the Colonel," 
 said Frank, who seemed to be a man without jealousy, 
 as well as without sentiment. 
 
 " Oh ! what are you talking about ? " protested Lo- 
 tharinga. " I asked you if you didn't think there was 
 a mystery about him. You've no more poetry in you 
 than a watermelon. Well, of course he's gentlemanly 
 and intelligent. Most Virginians are gentlemen, and 
 all Peytons, I suppose. It's a fine old name, isn't it ? I 
 thought it had died out. Who knew that there were 
 any Peytons left ? Well, I'm glad there's one extant — 
 this one." 
 
 " He may be of a cadet branch of the old stock," 
 suggested Mrs. Dumont, in the tone of a person who 
 wants to seem to know something of a subject. The 
 genealogy of patrician American families was of course 
 a topic worthy of her mightiest intellectual efforts. 
 
 " I really don't know anything about it," confessed 
 Virginia, seeing that Mrs. Fitz James's eyes wandered 
 dreamily from her aunt to herself. 
 
 " Oh ! well, it doesn't matter about family," said Lo- 
 tharinga, with a levity which made Mrs. Dumont stare 
 at her in disapproving amazement. " One can't care 
 much what such a man's descent may be. He bears his 
 pedigree in his face. There's only one thing about him 
 I don't quite like. He wears his hair drawn straight 
 forward, and cut square across his forehead, like the 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 175 
 
 children in the Tower. It makes one want to get a 
 brush and comb, and set it to rights. But it's such a 
 fascinating face, all the same ! I w^ish you could see 
 it. Blonde ; exquisite complexion ; features handsome 
 enough for a man — I say ; long, yellow mustache ; and 
 that fine, pensive air ! " 
 
 " Won't that do, Lottie ? " laughed Bedstone. " You 
 are laying on the color pretty thick. I am getting un- 
 easy. Nobody talks about me in that way." 
 
 " We speak favorably of you here, Mr. Hedstone," 
 said Mrs. Dumont, doing the honors of the apartment. 
 
 " So glad ! " smiled the ton gar^on. *' I hadn't 
 hoped it, but I had longed for it." 
 
 " Oh ! I like him better than De Bethune," continued 
 Lotharinga, dreamily, still referring to the mysterious 
 Peyton. " On the whole, my dear and too lovely Miss 
 Beaufort, I don't think I shall bring him to you. I 
 don't know what might happen." 
 
 " By-the-way, we had something to say about 
 De Bethune," interjected Hedstone, who perhaps 
 thought that his sister prattled too much concerning 
 Peyton. 
 
 " Oh ! exactly," nodded Mrs. Fitz James, turning ea- 
 gerly in the new direction, the volatile little canary. 
 " My dear Virginia, I want you to take him. He knows 
 music as well as your German, and he doesn't smell of 
 beer and cheese." 
 
 " I have already parted from Herr Koerner," said 
 Virginia, gravely. 
 
 " Oh ! something happened ? " guessed and giggled 
 Lotharinga. " Was he too assiduous ? Of course he 
 was. Those professors are so tender ! I had a regular 
 scene with one. He was a Neapolitan. I believe the 
 
176 THE BLOODY GEASM. 
 
 ISTeapolitans are particularly sensible. Frank had to 
 be called in to make him go away. — O Frank, what 
 fun ! " 
 
 *' Don't enlarge upon it," implored Frank, blushing 
 a little for his sister. "Mrs. Dumont is studying 
 you." 
 
 "Not at all," protested Mrs. D., though indeed 
 she looked rather solemn, as if saying to herself that 
 Baltimore ladies were not Charlestonian. Then she 
 added, "I usually sit with my niece during her les- 
 
 sons." 
 
 II 
 
 Quite proper," giggled Mrs. Fitz. " Such a face, 
 and such a fortune ! She needs watching." 
 
 "I suppose Mr. De Bethune speaks only French," 
 said Virginia, who seemed a little fretted by this babble. 
 " I don't yet know the language so very well." 
 
 " Dear me ! didn't I tell you ? " cried Lotharinga. 
 " He speaks English. His family was loj^al to the Plan- 
 tagenets, and so forth, for centuries ; and he says that 
 he considers it the duty of a De Bethune to know Eng- 
 lish ; he said it laughing, to be sure, but I think he 
 really meant it. Besides, he has taught in England, 
 and among the nobility, too. Oh ! he is just what you 
 want, I assure you. My dear, will you see him ? " 
 
 "I think I had better," returned Virginia, after a 
 glance at her aunt, who nodded affirmatively. 
 
 " So glad ! " exclaimed Mrs. Fitz. " So obliged ! 
 I knew you would. Well, you must get yourself 
 ready in soul to meet him, then. I told him to look 
 for me here. I took that liberty. You must know 
 that I always have two or three ijroteges. I am one 
 of those women. I can't help being busy — and use- 
 ful, ha, ha, ha ! By-the-way, he ought to be here. 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 177 
 
 Perhaps he has lost the address. — Frank, run out and 
 see if he is in sight." 
 
 Mr. Hedstone, with the readiness of a man trained 
 to oblige, took his hat and went forth on his mission. 
 Then there was a conversation between the ladies con- 
 cerning French society, receptions at court, and imperial 
 gayeties. Mrs. Fitz James was in the midst of a story 
 of Compiegne gossip, when Hedstone reappeared, ur- 
 banely ushering in the noble teacher of music. He was 
 a man of something over thirty, with a handsome face 
 of the massive classic type, a dark and healthily pallid 
 complexion, brilliant black eyes, and carefully dressed 
 curling black hair. His figure displayed the broad 
 shoulders, powerful bust, and disproportionately short, 
 slender legs, so common in Western Continental Europe. 
 In expression and manner he was singularly gentle, even 
 more so than the honeyed but also more dignified Hed- 
 stone. 
 
 Mrs. Fitz James sprang up, shook hands with him 
 cordially, and presented him as her dear professor — her 
 trhcher Seigneur d'^Aiimale. Then she added : " Come, 
 Frank ; our duty is done. — Good-by, my dear Virginia ; 
 come and see me every day. — Mrs. Dumont, please re- 
 member me oftener. — Au revoir, mon c/ier Seigneur 
 (V Aiimale.'*'' 
 
 "Ah ! Mrs. Fitz James, you are always joking," 
 smiled the Professor as he bowed her out. 
 
 The moment the Baltimoreans had departed, Mrs. 
 Dumont turned with rustling graciousness to De Be- 
 thune, and, making him a salutation w^hich might al- 
 most be called a reverence, begged him to be seated. 
 A gentleman whose blazon dated back to Richard the 
 Lion-hearted was clearly worthy of even the distin- 
 
178 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 guished consideration of a Beaufort. "Mrs. Fitz 
 James," she smiled, " has told us the interesting story 
 of your high lineage." 
 
 He gave her a glance of surprise, but answered 
 readily and sweetly, "The lineage may perhaps be 
 high, madame, but I personally am very lowly." 
 
 " Of course, all families are liable to reverses of 
 fortune," said Mrs. Dumont, consolingly. * " We know 
 it only too well. But under any circumstances of 
 adversity one has a right to be proud of honorable 
 descent." 
 
 The Professor, who clearly did not desire to talk of 
 his ancestors, made the best of the situation by bow- 
 
 mg. 
 
 " We think a great deal of these things in South 
 Carolina, sir," persisted the good lady. 
 
 "Mrs. Fitz James seems to think a good deal of 
 them," he smiled. " She questioned me very sharply 
 about the prefix to my name. At last, to amuse her, 
 I told her what I know, or suppose I know, of its origin 
 and its presumed founder." 
 
 Virginia, who could not help being interested, said 
 in a querying tone, " The Seigneur of Aumale ? " 
 
 " So I understand," he replied, carelessly. " Alas ! 
 it was six or seven centuries ago." 
 
 " It seems to me that I should assert myself," was 
 Mrs. Dumont's spirited counsel. 
 
 " Pardon me. I have nothing to assert. It is hun- 
 dreds of years since there was a title in our branch of 
 the Bethunes." 
 
 " But when a gentleman is sure that he belongs to 
 an old and noble French family ! " said the worthy 
 lady. 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 179 
 
 " Pardon me again," bowed the Professor. " It is 
 Flemish. I am a Belgian." 
 
 " Oh ! well, that might make a difference," hesitated 
 the grande dame of South Carolina. The Beauforts, 
 she of course remembered, were French, and Huguenots 
 to boot. 
 
 "The highest title I can claim is Professor of Mu- 
 sic," De Bethune continued, turning to Virginia with 
 a bow and a smile. 
 
 " Mrs. Fitz James was very kind in asking you to 
 call," she replied, seeing that he positively did not want 
 to discourse further of his lineage. 
 
 Then followed a practical and business-like conver- 
 sation, which ended in engaging the descendant of the 
 Seigneur d'Aumale as a singing-master. With this re- 
 sult he looked more gratified than could fairly have 
 been expected of the inheritor of so much grandeeism. 
 It seemed likely that pupils were rare with him, and 
 revenues limited. But when Virginia seated herself at 
 the piano and gave him an exhibition of her voice, he 
 clearly forgot his own affairs in admiration and profes- 
 sional enthusiasm. 
 
 "It is a remarkable organ," he said, closing his 
 hands and bending toward her with an air of defer- 
 ence. " It is a very remarkable organ," he repeated in 
 a whisper which was nothing less than reverential. 
 
 Aunt Dumont bridled and rustled with family pride. 
 Then she remembered her patriotism, and said, " Such 
 voices are very common, I assure you, sir, in South 
 Carolina." 
 
 De Bethune opened his eyes in wonder, but he 
 bowed acquiescence, all the same. "It is a highly 
 favored region," he replied. " I should like to go there. 
 
180 THE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 By-the-way, did you say South Carolina? I have an- 
 other pupil from that city." 
 
 " It is a State, sir," remarked both the ladies at once. 
 
 " Ah, pardon me ; I am ignorant of your geography. 
 This lady also has a fine voice — I don't think as power- 
 ful as Miss Beaufort's, but still a very fine voice. Her 
 name is Macmorran ; and she is a most agreeable young 
 person — very nun-like and modest." 
 
 The two ladies glanced at each other with faces of 
 interrogation and of alarm. It was some seconds be- 
 fore Mrs. Dumont mustered resolution enough to ask, 
 "Is she Irish?" 
 
 " American, she told me," stated De Bethune. 
 "Black hair and very black eyes, just what I supposed 
 to be American. Besides, her first name is — is Norah, 
 which sounds American, surely." 
 
 " We are not acquainted with her," said Mrs. Du- 
 mont. " She is not in our circle," she added, on reflec- 
 tion. 
 
 Then there was more music, and the pupil sang out 
 of tune — so much so, indeed, that the Professor looked 
 surprised and troubled. 
 
 The moment he was gone, Virginia exclaimed, 
 " Kow the marriage will be out." 
 
 " We can get that girl's address and see her," re- 
 plied Mrs. Dumont. "Perhaps she wouldn't mind 
 keeping your secret — if you want it kept." 
 
 I 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 181 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 During the afternoon of the next day Professor De 
 Bethune was at the apartment of Korah Macmorran. 
 It was a single plain room, musty in atmosphere and 
 scanty in furniture, with a bed more or less hidden in a 
 curtained alcove ; one of those horrible ambushes where 
 nightmares lie in wait for the sleeper. Before a piano 
 sat Xorah, just finishing a piece of music, and looking 
 up anxiously at her teacher with the query, " Was that 
 better, sir ? " 
 
 " Yes," he said, in his habitual tone and manner of 
 gentle deference. " It was not only better, but it was 
 exceedingly well." 
 
 A smile of joy forced its way into the seriousness 
 and plaintiveness of ISTorah's face. " Oh, sir ! " she re- 
 plied, coloring slightly, " I am so glad ! " 
 
 " You are very anxious to be a great singer ? " he 
 asked, smiling also, very sympathetically and kindly. 
 
 "I am anxious to earn my living, sir." 
 
 " You are a high-minded young lady," he said, with 
 an air of surprise and admiration. 
 
 " How could I wish not to earn my living, sir ? " 
 
 " I alluded to the avowal of poverty. It isn't every- 
 body who is brave enough and self-respectful enough to 
 avow that." 
 
 "I have always been poor. I am used to it. I 
 never was so well off before as during this year." 
 
 " Ah ! you have had a stroke of good fortune ? Per- 
 haps there will be more. You deserve them." 
 
 "It is the Church, sir. The Church is supporting 
 
182 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 me here — the congregation of St. Patrick's, in Charles- 
 ton." 
 
 "I have another pupil from Charleston — a very 
 beautiful voice, too — a Miss Beaufort." 
 
 Norah, who had been gazing at the floor during most 
 of this dialogue, raised her eyes with an expression of 
 startled inquiry. 
 
 " She is with her aunt, a Mrs. Dumont," continued 
 De Bethune. " Did you ever hear of them ? " 
 
 "Miss Beaufort?" asked Norah, her face a little 
 paler than usual, and her eyes drooped again. 
 
 "Yes, that is the name. Did you ever hear her 
 sing ? " 
 
 "No, sir," murmured Norah. She remained silent 
 a moment, and then timorously queried, " Is the aunt 
 Mrs. Dumont ? " 
 
 "As I told you — Mrs. Dumont and Miss Beaufort. 
 I hope you will hear the young lady some day ; it is a 
 great pleasure." 
 
 "And does Mrs. Dumont call her niece Miss Beau- 
 fort ? " persisted the puzzled and troubled girl. 
 
 " She calls her Virginia. There is an old negress in 
 the family who calls her Miss Ginny. But the name is 
 Beaufort ; I know it from the people who presented me 
 there ; moreover, she answers to it." 
 
 " Oh, perhaps it is a sister," Norah thought, aloud. 
 
 "Whose sister? Pardon me. I fail to compre- 
 hend." 
 
 " I don't know," was the embarrassed reply. " Per- 
 haps these are not the ladies. Is she very — hand- 
 some ? " 
 
 " Quite beautiful. You will see her, I hope. I took 
 the liberty of mentioning you to them, and they seemed 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 183 
 
 interested. Last evening, too, I received a message 
 from Mrs. Dumont, asking for your address. I pre- 
 sume that they purpose calling." 
 
 " Calling ? " repeated ISTorah, in unconcealable worry. 
 
 " I hope I have not annoyed you," said De Bethune. 
 *' They are really ladies, and moreover very agreeable 
 ladies, especially the younger. I am sure you will like 
 
 them." 
 
 "And there is no— gentleman ? " asked the girl, 
 
 anxiously. 
 
 "Not one," he smiled. "You are very shy, Miss 
 Macmorran. I admire you none the less for it." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," murmured Norah, with frank and 
 sweet simplicity, though she still seemed occupied and 
 intimidated. 
 
 " You don't fear me ? " added De Bethune, in a tone 
 of almost tender inquiry. 
 
 "You were recommended to me by the convent," 
 the girl answered, blushing. " Besides, I must see you." 
 
 "I am glad you must," he said, gazing at her with 
 obvious admiration. 
 
 " They are very grand people in their own country," 
 resumed Norah. "I don't see why they must call on 
 
 me." 
 
 She looked appealingly at De Bethune here, as if 
 hoping that he would be her friend in the matter, and 
 prevent the dreaded interview. 
 
 " My dear young lady, an artist is an artist," he said, 
 cheeringly. "Miss Beaufort is apparently a very su- 
 perior young person, and no doubt has the respect of 
 talent for talent. She treated me, a poor professor of 
 music, with courtesy and kindness. I think you may 
 look forward with composure to meeting her." 
 
18i TEE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 Then a gentle rap was heard at the door, and he in- 
 quired with a bow, " You permit me to open ? " 
 
 " If you please, sir," whispered Norah, visibly dis- 
 quieted and apprehensive. Her naturally pale face 
 turned completely colorless when De Bethune gave en- 
 trance to Mrs. Dumont, and that stately dame, rustling 
 in stiff silken raiment, marched up to her with an out- 
 stretched glove. 
 
 " I am glad to see you again. Miss Macmorran," said 
 the unwelcome visitor, with one of those counterfeit 
 smiles which we all know so well. "The moment I 
 heard of your being here, I determined to call." 
 
 Norah had risen, and she took the proffered hand ; 
 but her lips merely moved and quivered when she tried 
 to speak. 
 
 " I want you to be acquainted with my niece," con- 
 tinued Mrs. Dumont, in a hurried, embarrassed tone, 
 for the interview agitated her also. " You and she have 
 the same tastes. Mr. De Bethune has told us of your 
 beautiful voice and execution. — They ought to sing 
 together, oughtn't they, Mr. De Bethune ? " 
 
 The Professor assented in a few complimentary words, 
 and then, after a puzzled glance at Norah's discomposed 
 countenance, made his urbane adieus, and vanished. 
 
 Under the pressure of extreme necessity the girl now 
 regained her powers of speech. She hastily dusted a 
 chair with her handkerchief, offered it meekly to the 
 visitor, and murmured, " AYon't you sit down, ma'am ? " 
 
 Mrs. Dumont seated herself and drew a long breath. 
 Her respiration was affected by the ascent of several 
 stairways, and by the worrying nature of the business 
 in hand. Of course, she remembered her suspicions that 
 there had been a love-affair, and apparently a soul-stir- 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 185 
 
 ring one, between this young woman and the husband 
 of her niece. Of course, too, she was not quite sure 
 that the entanglement, whatever it might amount to, 
 liad not continued to the present time. For all she knew 
 to the contrary. Underbill might even now be in Paris, 
 and still devoted, in some fashion or other, to Miss Mac- 
 morran. Yet about him she must perforce talk, and 
 against him she must declaim and plead. She must ask, 
 too, for a favor which she did not fully desire. She 
 must implore secrecy for Virginia's marriage, when at 
 heart she felt that such secrecy was wrong, and more 
 than doubted whether it were even worldly-wise. 
 
 "My dear — I came partly on business — I want a 
 kindness of you," she began, hesitatingly. " You know 
 who I am ? " 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," was the meek reply. 
 
 " You heard, I believe, of my niece's intended mar- 
 riage ? " (ISTorah nodded slightly.) " To a Mr. Under- 
 bill?" (Another poor little nod.) "There were cir- 
 cumstances which enforced the marriage," continued 
 Mrs. Dumoht, with a sigh. " But they could not make 
 it pleasant — you hear me ? " 
 
 Norah's eyes had been on the floor, but she raised 
 them an instant and gasped, " Yes." 
 
 " Ah ! dear — it was a sad marriage — a funeral," Mrs. 
 Dumont sighed again, recollecting, no doubt, the black- 
 crape dress and the darkened church. " I hardly know 
 how to go on. But the long and short of it is, that they 
 couldn't live together ; they separated immediately." 
 
 Norah lifted a pair of astonished eyes, and a flood 
 of color rushed into her cheeks. There was something 
 like a passion of resuscitated hope in the gesture and 
 expression ; but it was trampled out immediately by con- 
 
186 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 science or reason, and the face became as nun-like as 
 before. 
 
 "It was not a divorce," explained Mrs. Dumont. 
 "It couldn't be a divorce — only a separation. Well, 
 they are living apart ; that is the whole of it. I thought 
 it best to tell you everything." 
 
 ISTorah said nothing, but she glanced piteously at her 
 visitor's face, and the look seemed to ask, " Why ? " 
 
 " I want you to keep our secret," resumed the elder 
 lady. " You will do us a favor, a very great favor, if 
 you will not mention the marriage." 
 
 " What ! " said the amazed girl, startled into the 
 power of speech. " Do you mean 7iever f " 
 
 " Not for some time — ^not while you are in Paris — 
 unless we advise you to the contrary." 
 
 Norah pondered a moment, and then replied, hesi- 
 tatingly, " I think I can promise you." 
 
 " Oh ! do," urged Mrs. Dumont, in the faint tone of 
 one who implores with a doubting conscience. " Thank 
 you, my dear. We shall be under great obligations. 
 If we can ever do you any kindness in return — " 
 
 " I need nothing," said Norah, supposing that money 
 favors were meant — the natural supposition of a child 
 of poverty. " But I will promise — since you wish it 
 so much." 
 
 "Indeed we do ! And now you must call on us," 
 added the grande dame with an effort. " By-the-way, 
 please remember to speak to my niece always as Miss 
 Beaufort, or Virginia. She prefers her own name, un- 
 der the circumstances. I don't know that you can blame 
 her for loving it. It is an honorable name. You may 
 be sure that she will bear it worthily. She has no mean 
 or unworthy purpose in this secrecy — only safety from 
 
THE BLOODY Off ASM. 1S7 
 
 persecution, and tranquillity. So we can rely upon you 
 can we ? You will not allude to the marriage, nor men- 
 tion that dreaded name ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, ma'am ! " said Norah, with an earnestness 
 which confessed that the name was a terrible one to her 
 also. 
 
 Mrs. Duraont glanced at her significantly ; she in 
 part comprehended the girl's emotion. But it would not 
 do to inquire strictly, or in fact to inquire at all, into 
 the causes of it. 
 
 *' I shouldn't want even Mr. De Bethune to know of 
 the marriage," she added, reverting to her own proper 
 affair. 
 
 " I won't mention it to him, nor to any one." 
 
 " So much obliged to you. Miss Macmorran ! " smiled 
 the lady of the old regime. " Well, now — '* Here she 
 hesitated a moment ; she was going to say a very great 
 thing — " now you must be our friend," she concluded, 
 with heroic resolution. 
 
 " Oh, thank you, Mrs. Dumont," stammered Norah. 
 " I suppose," she presently continued, " that he never 
 comes there ? " 
 
 " He ? Who ? Do you mean her husband ? No 
 indeed, never ! She trusts never to meet him again in 
 this world. Well, now, I am so glad I called on you ! 
 You must be our friend ; you must call and see us," re- 
 peated Mrs. Dumont, firmly. " Will you come and sing 
 with Virginia to-morrow — at three, say ? " 
 
 Norah, who would have given a world to refuse, 
 tried to show some willingness, and did succeed in 
 forcing a piteous smile as she answered, " Yes, Mrs. 
 Dumont." 
 
 Then the visitor, drawing a long sigh, as if she had 
 
188 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 performed a very distressing duty indeed, gathered her- 
 self rustling out of her chair and blandly took her de- 
 parture. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 We shall obtain light upon some of the personages 
 and circumstances of this history by going back to Mrs. 
 Fitz James and her brother at the moment of their exit 
 from Virginia's parlor. 
 
 The genial and chatty couple had scarcely closed the 
 Beaufort door behind them, when Hedstone turned 
 petulantly upon his sister, and demanded, "What are 
 you throwing that girl at that Belgian's head for ? " 
 
 " Of course, I wouldn't do it, Frank, if anything bet- 
 ter could be done," whispered Lotharinga, eagerly and 
 placatingly. " But what can ^oic do, with a wife in 
 America? If you could get a divorce — if there was 
 any chance of it—" She hesitated si little, and then 
 asked, "76' there?" 
 
 Mr. Bedstone's intonation was quite surly as he an- 
 swered, "ISTot on mi/ side." After pondering a mo- 
 ment he added, still more surlily, " My wife could get 
 one — and won't." 
 
 " O Frank ! don't go on with the subject," said the 
 sister, flinching and coloring. " It's not pleasant to hear 
 about. I don't see how you could be so imprudent as 
 to put yourself entirely in the wrong. It always was 
 so. There's ill-luck in our family." 
 
 " Your own match doesn't appear to have been made 
 in heaven, my poor sister," returned Hedstone. The 
 
TEE BLOODY CEASM. 189 
 
 speech and the tone in which it was uttered were ur- 
 bane enough ; but either Lotharinga had an evil con- 
 science, or she habitually expected sarcasm from her 
 brother ; she flinched and colored again. 
 
 "Mr. Fitz James was a great sufferer," she mur- 
 mured. " I've no doubt it was a relief to him to get 
 off his bed and into his grave." 
 
 Hedstone laughed outright. "I rather think so," 
 he said. " Poor old fool ! what a time he had of it ! " 
 
 " I had a hard time, too," gasped the widow, ready 
 to cry with humiliation and anger. " I think you ought 
 to have pitied me, especially when you had crowded me 
 into it — the whole family coaxing, and crowding, and 
 bullying ! " 
 
 " Well, it icas pitiable," conceded the brother. 
 " What can a young lassie do wi' an auld man ? You 
 deserve every cent you got by it. — But now, as for 
 this Beaufort affair, what are you driving at? The 
 girl could do better than take De Bethune. She could 
 have Peyton, for instance," he added, with a malicious 
 smile. 
 
 Lotharinga tossed her small head defiantly, some- 
 thing like a pretty heifer that threatens hostilities. " I 
 don't know whether she could or not," she said. " He 
 isn't so easy to catch with mere money. He has enough 
 of his own, I think." 
 
 She pondered a bit, glanced at him investigatingly, 
 and continued : " I'll tell you what I am driving at. 
 Miss Beaufort is a millionaire, and De Bethune is of 
 noble descent. If they get married, and she can man- 
 age to buy a title for him, then we shall know at least 
 one noble. That will be a beginning. We shall get 
 into the aristocratic circle." 
 
190 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 " Oh ! I see," grinned Frank ; " and then you can 
 make a strike for yourself. Well, it may work — by 
 bare possibility. She can't buy a title, but she can buy 
 an estate, and that may bring a courtesy title. It may 
 work. I won't try to hinder." 
 
 " Don't, Frank ! We don't want any more gabble 
 and scandal about the Hedstones." 
 
 By this time they had got out of the house and 
 reached Lotharinga's coupe. Hedstone helped his sister 
 into the vehicle with an air of affectionate deference, 
 and touched his hat in response to her lively and good- 
 natured smile of farewell. One would have said that 
 he was one of the best and sweetest of brothers. 
 
 Then he picked up a cab and drove to unknown re- 
 gions. If he played there, as it is to be feared that he 
 did, his ventures were probably fortunate, for when he 
 appeared in Lotharinga's rooms, some three days later, 
 he was in high good-humor, and his banter was all of 
 the pleasant sort. In actual fact, and notwithstand- 
 ing his occasional bitterness and sarcasm, he seemed to 
 be at bottom a fairly loyal and affectionate relative, 
 and rather proud of his sister's prettiness and small 
 clevernesses. 
 
 " What are you up to now, old lady ? " he asked, 
 watching her with a smile as she stood before a pier- 
 glass, carefully arranging a rose-bud in her black hair. 
 "Who are you setting that trap for? Is it still the 
 Colonel ? " 
 
 " Mind your own business, Frank." 
 
 *' Thank Heaven, I haven't any ! " 
 
 " It's such a shame, in a man ! " 
 
 " It's no stigma in Paris, and not much of a one in 
 Baltimore." 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 191 
 
 " You perfectly pester me with hanging around my 
 rooms. I wish I wasn't so agreeable." 
 
 " Dear old lady ! you don't mean to be. You sim- 
 ply can't help it. You are so amusing that it makes 
 you agreeable in spite of yourself." 
 
 "It must be a^rfully amusing to sit and gape at 
 one's own sister. You must be hard up for amuse- 
 ment." 
 
 " I see. There's somebody coming this morning, 
 and you want me out of the way." 
 
 " Go and watch some other woman — do ! Go and sit 
 up with Miss Beaufort." 
 
 " I thought you didn't want me to sit up with her." 
 
 " Of course, not on your own account, Frank. But 
 you might talk with her about De Bethune, and say a 
 good word for him." 
 
 " Oh ! that never will come to anything. The girl is 
 green and uncultivated, and rather heavy company ; 
 but she is solid and sensible, and devilish aristocratic, 
 too ; she's not going to snap at a poor professor of mu- 
 sic ; it doesn't stand to reason." 
 
 "He's there every day; and that tells. And he's 
 begun to adore her ; and that tells. And they're mad 
 about music together ; and that will tell. I think 
 the marriage is very likely to come about, and I 
 know it's our policy to help it along. Do, for pity's 
 sake, go and see her, and say something handsome 
 about him ! " 
 
 " Yes : you want me to be off ; want the deck 
 cleared for action — passengers go below. Who is it? 
 If it's the right man, I'll vanish. Is it Peyton ? " 
 
 " What if it is ? " 
 
 "Oh, well, if it's the Colonel, I'll oblige you. I've 
 
192 TEE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 fallen in love witli Peyton myself. I'd rather have you 
 snare Peyton than all the other twenty." 
 
 " What twenty ? " demanded Lotharinga, pettishly. 
 
 " Why, the twenty men of all nations — Americans, 
 and Englishmen, and Frenchmen ; Parthians, and 
 Medes, and Elamites — w^hom you are trifling with at 
 present." 
 
 "Don't be a bore, Frank. There's nothing funny 
 about such exaggerations — what people call American 
 humor. I haven't above five or six men on hand ; and 
 they are trying to flirt with me — not I with them." 
 
 "Yes, it was the lamb which troubled the water, 
 and not the wolf," returned Hedstone, soberly. Appar- 
 ently, he would have preferred that his sister should 
 coquette less and with fewer men. 
 
 " Now do be amiable, Frank, and clear out," urged 
 Lotharinga, beginning to look cross. 
 
 " Of course, I will," answered Frank, his smile re- 
 turning. " If it is the Colonel, he sha'n't be interfered 
 with. Not only will I go out, but I'll stand in the hall, 
 and keep everybody else from coming in." 
 
 "Frank, if you do! Why, it would be just eaves- 
 droj^ping. Just go entirely away, and don't stop till 
 you find Miss Beaufort." 
 
 At this moment there was a rap on the door. Red- 
 stone stepped to it in his quick, feline way, opened it 
 and presented his hand with a smile. The hand Avas 
 taken by a person well known to us — the gentleman 
 who had married Virginia Beaufort — no other than 
 Harry Edwards Underhill. He looked precisely as we 
 have hitherto seen him, except that his blonde hair was 
 combed straight down on all sides and cut across his 
 forehead in a " banger," and that in place of his usual 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 193 
 
 fashionable morning suit he wore a frock-coat, vest, and 
 trousers of " Confederate gray." 
 
 " So glad to see you, Colonel Peyton ! " exclaimed 
 Mrs. Fitz James, rushing forward with a cheerful blush 
 and sparkling of the eyes. " So very kind of you to 
 remember your promise ! " 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Fitz James," said Underhill, tran- 
 quilly. "It is a kindness to myself. — Mr. Hedstone, 
 how are you ? " 
 
 "Please excuse my brother for leaving you," put in 
 Lotharinga, hastily. " He has pressing business on hand. 
 — Frank, remember my directions." 
 
 "All right," smiled Frank, picking up his hat. — 
 " Good-by, Colonel ; see you again soon." 
 
 Hedstone out of the way, conversation opened viva- 
 ciously between Mrs. Fitz James and Underhill, espe- 
 cially on the part of the lady. It soon appeared that 
 the acquaintance was the result of a chance meeting at 
 the Louvre ; that it was already sufficiently advanced 
 to admit of easy and almost confidential intercourse ; 
 that Lotharinga had not the least suspicion of her visit- 
 or's being other than Colonel Peyton and a Virginian ; 
 and that she was, to say the least, very eager to monop- 
 olize and fascinate him. 
 
 " Where were you yesterday ? " she demanded, in a 
 tone of amiable reproof. " If I hadn't met you by mere 
 accident at Galignani's, I should have passed twenty- 
 four hours without seeing you." 
 
 " The terrible misfortune ! " he laughed. " I was 
 amusing myself with Paris. It is very alluring." 
 
 " Isn't it lovely ! isn't it immense ! " exclaimed Lo- 
 tharinga. " Oh, if Americans knew ! — they would all 
 come here. But then it would cease to be attractive." 
 9 
 
194 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 " Not if they were all like — " And here he made a 
 bow to her, smiling the while, however, in a light way, 
 as if to say. Don't take me too seriously. 
 
 " I wish I knew how to pay compliments," murmured 
 the pretty little widow, with a smile of real pleasure. 
 "You should have some nice ones. Colonel Peyton. 
 As it is, you must be content with a nosegay." 
 
 She took the rose-bud from her hair, leaned toward 
 him, and coquettishly put it in his button-hole, lingering 
 contentedly over her task, looking up at him with a 
 smile and saying softly, "I am so awkward about 
 it!" 
 
 " You have probably had so little practice," he an- 
 swered, watching her curiously and good-naturedly. 
 
 *' Satirical man ! " laughed Lotharinga, though she 
 blushed, too. " Who would have thought of drawing 
 satire from a Virginian ? I weakly believed that they 
 were serious." 
 
 "So they are. I solemnly return thanks for this 
 embellishment." 
 
 " No, you don't. You think I do such things for 
 other people. That is the first posy that I have put in 
 a button-hole for years." 
 
 " Poor, neglected button-holes ! " he smiled. Then, as 
 if the subject had received attention enough, he added 
 in a careless tone : " How do you pass &,11 your time, 
 Mrs. Fitz James ? Do you find any society in Paris ? " 
 
 " I care so little for it ! " sighed the widow. " My 
 tastes are very domestic. Of course, there is something 
 in the social way — imperial receptions, and balls, and 
 that sort of thing ; you know we Americans can't get 
 into the Saint-Germain circle — poky old decayed aris- 
 tocrats ! " 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 195 
 
 " But there is an American colony, isn't there ? " 
 
 "Too many Yankees — nearly all Yankees. Of 
 course, you hate Yankees." 
 
 " I hardly like tip say that I do," returned Underhill, 
 with a smile which Mrs. Fitz James, of course, failed to 
 understand. 
 
 " Oh ! you are a soldier," said the lady, glancing with 
 flattering eyes at his gray coat. " I believe the soldiers 
 are the most thoroughly reconstructed part of the 
 Southern population." 
 
 " No doubt of it, Mrs. Fitz James. But, to quit that 
 painful subject and return to Paris, are there no South- 
 em families here — none from the Confederate States ? " 
 
 " Oh, so very few ! " Lotharinga sighed, as if the 
 fact grieved her not a little. " I suppose they are all 
 broken in fortune, and can't travel. I don't know of a 
 single family from Virginia." 
 
 Underhill hesitated a moment, and then added in a 
 querying tone, but quite tranquilly, " I heard the other 
 day of a Mrs. Dumont and her niece." 
 
 The widow gave him a furtive glance, which, in- 
 stantaneous as it was, revealed suspicion and alarm. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 The instant which followed Underbill's slight but 
 no doubt interrogative allusion to his wife was a troub- 
 led one to both him and Mrs. Fitz James. 
 
 For reasons mysterious to her, though of course 
 comprehensible to us, he colored and looked uneasy un- 
 
196 TEE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 der her transient glance of investigation. She, on her 
 part, had a discomforted, fictitious smile, and, when she 
 answered him, spoke with a really childlike, pitiful ea- 
 gerness, all showing that, coquette though she might be, 
 she was a loving little woman at bottom, and had already- 
 become tenderly interested in her colonel. 
 
 " They are not from Virginia," she said, hastily. 
 " They are South Carolinians — of the old-fashioned sort, 
 you know— awfully prim and reserved." 
 
 The information did not seem to disturb the visitor ; 
 on the contrary, he had the air of being relieved and 
 gratified. " I know the type," he responded in a low, 
 meditative tone. " By-the-way, what is the name of 
 the niece ? " 
 
 " Beaufort — Miss Virginia Beaufort," stated Mrs. 
 Fitz James, and immediately asked, " Have you ever met 
 her ? " 
 
 Underhill did not answer her question ; he was gaz- 
 ing at her in grave surprise. " Beaufort ? " he interro- 
 gated, his cheek reddening again. Then, recovering his 
 automatic utterance and manner, he added, " I thought 
 I had heard of her by another name." 
 
 *' Beaufort — Miss Virginia Beaufort. Have you ever 
 met her ? " persisted Lotharinga. 
 
 " As I was saying, I have heard of them," said Un- 
 derhill, evasively. " "What sort of a person is Miss 
 Beaufort ? Reserved, you say ? " 
 
 Considering that he was inquiring about his own 
 wife, and had just learned the unpleasant fact that she 
 had dropped her marriage name, the question was put 
 with wonderful tranquillity of manner. Nevertheless, 
 he could not quite deceive the bright eyes of the expe- 
 rienced flirt who sat beside him, and who was watching 
 
TEE BLOODY CEASM. 197 
 
 him with an attention acute enough to overhear his very 
 heart-beats. 
 
 " Really, Colonel Peyton, you are greatly interested," 
 she giggled uneasily. " I think you must have seen her. 
 Have you seen her ? " 
 
 Then Underhill judged it best to admit that she had 
 been pointed out to him by a friend. 
 
 '^ I think she is perfectly lovely — don't you f " added 
 Lotharinga, artfully. 
 
 He dropped his eyes pensively, as if he were recall- 
 ing the darkened church and his veiled bride, and re- 
 sponded in a dreamy way, " I didn't see her very plain- 
 ly." 
 
 Mrs. Fitz James could not suppress a little smile of 
 satisfaction. Then she qualified her statement as to 
 Virginia's loveliness by subjoining that some people 
 thought her handsome, and others not. "She doesn't 
 know anything," was the next bit of information. " She 
 grew up in South Carolina during the war. Xo school- 
 ing ; no accomplishments ; no habits of society ; no sub- 
 jects of conversation — excepting, of course, the war — 
 that everlasting war." 
 
 " Indeed, I am sorry to hear it," muttered Underhill, 
 who was in reality sorry, as we may imagine. 
 
 " Oh, well, perhaps I am a little hard on her," re- 
 sumed Mrs. Fitz James, at bottom a good-natured crea- 
 ture.. " She is studying French and paying attention to 
 music. She is trying to learn something." 
 
 " Music ? " queried Underhill, who was, as we re- 
 member, an adorer of the melodious art. 
 
 " Yes, that's her strong point ; she sings pretty well 
 for a novice." 
 
 " I am exceedingly fond of singing," said the Colonel 
 
198 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 in a wishful tone, which was equivalent to asking an in- 
 troduction to Miss Beaufort. 
 
 Apparently Lotharinga took alarm again. " Oh ! are 
 you ? " she answered, sweetly. " Then you ought to hear 
 Miss Macmorran. I'll present you to ]Miss Macmor- 
 
 ran." 
 
 "Miss Macmorran ?" repeated Underhill, no doubt 
 
 considerably dismayed. 
 
 " Yes ! Miss Norah Macmorran. I met her at the 
 Beaufort rooms. They seem to be quite friendly. It's 
 rather curious. She's Irish, of course, Miss Macmorran 
 is. It's rather curious they should be acquainted with 
 her. By-the-way, I don't know that they are so very 
 intimate," added the hasty and heedless little prattler, 
 suddenly recollecting the facts of the case. " I've only 
 seen her there once, and that was yesterday. But she 
 sang for us ; and oh ! it was lovely — very well done in- 
 deed. I must look Miss Macmorran up and present you. 
 Did you ever hear of her ? She's preparing for the 
 opera, I suppose. I didn't know but you might have 
 heard of her. Gentlemen sometimes keep track of these 
 professionals, don't they ? " 
 
 Underhill seemed absent-minded, and made no di- 
 rect response. Presently he resumed, " I suppose you 
 have heard Miss Beaufort sing ? " 
 
 ** Well, I believe I have," said Lotharinga, doubt- 
 fully, as if she were sounding her memory. *' Oh ! yes, 
 of course I have — it made no great impression. Do 
 you know. Colonel Peyton, that you have asked me a 
 good many questions as to Miss Beaufort ? You are be- 
 witched about her ; yes, you are." After a moment of 
 watching him and pondering, she continued, " You are 
 not the only one." 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 199 
 
 "I never spoke to her, and never saw lier face," af- 
 firmed the Colonel, not quite suppressing his uneasiness. 
 
 " Very likely. She always goes veiled, and generally 
 in her coupe. But you have seen enough of her — some 
 remarkably pretty costume, perhaps — enough to fasci- 
 nate you." 
 
 *' That is enough sometimes," admitted Underhill, 
 though he seemed puzzled, probably at the feminine 
 stress laid on the word costume. 
 
 "You are not the only one," repeated Mrs. Fitz 
 James. 
 
 The husband could not help looking interested in 
 this bit of news about his wife. 
 
 "She is very much adored," pursued Mrs. Fitz 
 James, in a significant tone. 
 
 " How ? " He asked the question in spite of sug- 
 gestions of prudence and delicacy ; he undoubtedly asked 
 it before he had time to reflect upon it. 
 
 "And I think she likes it," affirmed Mrs. Fitz 
 James. 
 
 There was a moment of silence. If the lady had 
 glanced at her visitor, she would have seen a perturbed 
 countenance. But her eyes were fixed on the floor with 
 an air of meditation which was significant of invention. 
 
 " Mind, now, this is confidential," she resumed. " Oh ! 
 there is nothing wrong about it. A girl has a right 
 to take a fancy when she is well courted." 
 
 Underhill made a strong effort to smile, and was 
 able to say, " You tantalize me, Mrs. Fitz James." 
 
 " Of course I do," she laughed. " It must be quite 
 unbearable to a man who has seen her drive by. Well, 
 there isn't so very, very much to it — nothing declared 
 about it yet, I fancy. But there's love at the bottom ; 
 
200 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 at least, I think so — I am pretty sure. The happy man 
 is a Belgian — a Monsieur De Bethune." 
 
 *' Horrible ! " muttered Underhill, with feelings which 
 we can understand far better than could Mrs. Fitz 
 James. 
 
 " Not at all," she laughed. " Not in the least bit, I 
 assure you ; on the contrary, it's quite delightful. He's 
 a charming man, and of the very loveliest lineage, too — 
 one of the sweetest old genealogies in Europe. The 
 Seigneur d'Aumale, we call him ; and I'm sure it's a 
 very nice title, if it is extinct. His ancestor received 
 the fief of Aumale from Richard the Lion-hearted. 
 How can it be horrible ? " 
 
 It may be imagined how hateful and tragical all this 
 cheerful levity was to Underhill. He dropped his eyes 
 under those of his unconscious tormentor as he mur- 
 mured the piteous evasion, or protest, " But a Catholic 
 and a foreigner ! " 
 
 " Dear me, what difference does all that make, es- 
 pecially to a young lady of high blood ? " rattled Mrs. 
 Fitz James. " Catholic or Protestant, it's the same re- 
 ligion au fond. And a good little Confederate — you 
 ought to understand it. Colonel — a Confederate girl 
 doesn't object so much to foreigners. She at least finds 
 them more to her taste than Yankees." 
 
 Here was another hard hit for Virginia Beaufort's 
 husband, and he said, " I suppose so," in such a cheer- 
 less tone that Lotharinga stared. 
 
 " You are now abroad. Colonel," she ran on. " You 
 still believe that Anglo-Saxons and Anglo-Saxon ways 
 are finer than anything ; but you will change your ideas 
 before long.'* 
 
 As he shook his head she laughed and added : " Ah, 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 201 
 
 wait ! Paris is wonderfully converting. Stay here long 
 enough, and you will think as Paris does. You will 
 come to think, for instance — " Here she hesitated, and 
 then, cheering herself with a giggle, proceeded, " You 
 will come to believe that the one great object of life is 
 to make love." 
 
 " I don't know but I concede that already," replied 
 Underhill, no doubt remembering his wife and his de- 
 sire to win her. 
 
 Mrs. Fitz James was evidently cheered by the re- 
 sponse. " Let me fasten your rose-bud," she murmured, 
 leaning toward him and putting forth her dainty fin- 
 gers. "It is lopping over in the most alarming manner. 
 It would be a bad omen to have it fall out." 
 
 " Thank you," he muttered, mechanically. " I 
 shouldn't like a bad omen." 
 
 " It would really distress ?ne," she said, rolling up 
 her melting dark eyes at him. " There — I have pinned 
 it fast — I have secured myself against the omen." 
 
 Underhill bowed his thanks, and then glanced sober, 
 ly about him, apparently looking for his hat. 
 
 Mrs. Fitz James was clever enough to divine his pur- 
 pose, and to invent a pretext for prolonging the inter- 
 view. " Dear me, I quite forgot," she laughed. " We 
 were to go over to the Louvre again. You promised to 
 put me through a study of those Dutch extravaganzas, 
 and show me why they amount to something in art." 
 
 Underhill had an air of not remembering the agree- 
 ment, but he bowed civilly and responded, "I am at 
 your service." 
 
 Lotharinga sprang up gayly, ran into her dressing- 
 room, and presently returned with a hat on and a shawl 
 in her hands. " Please put this on me," she said, coax- 
 
202 THE BLOODY CEASM, 
 
 ingly. "These French maids are such truants — gone 
 just when you want them." 
 
 Underhill had distinctly seen a bonne through the 
 crack of the dressing-room door ; but he of course ar- 
 ranged the shawl around the plump shoulders of the 
 little lady. In the midst of the delicate labor she 
 stepped back a pace as if to make his task handier, and 
 pressed lightly against his arm. 
 
 "Mercy, how awkward I am ! " she smiled, looking 
 up archly ; but although her cheek was very near to 
 his lips, they did not meet. 
 
 " There — thank you — am I all right ? " she added, 
 facing him and then turning herself about for inspec- 
 tion. " I trust entirely to your eyes." 
 
 He quietly expressed the opinion that he had put on 
 her drapery as well as a man could. 
 
 " As well as an unmarried man could," she laughed. 
 "Some day, it is to be hoped, you will know how to do 
 it even better." 
 
 Then, taking his arm, she led him away to the quiet- 
 est rooms of the Louvre. 
 
 CHAPTER XXYI. 
 
 As we already know, the advent of General Hilton 
 had been for some time expected and desired by Mrs. 
 Dumont and Virginia, two somewhat lonesome women, 
 who of late had been kept very short of human con- 
 verse, and who were downright hungry for that of 
 South Carolinians and old acquaintance. 
 
 At last he came, his wooden leg gallantly storming 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 203 
 
 the lofty Parisian stairways, and his tall figure looming 
 vast in a London suit of shepherd's plaid, selected per- 
 haps because of its resemblance to the Confederate gray. 
 Aunt Chloe and Uncle Phil were the first to meet him, 
 and they welcomed him with an enthusiasm tropical 
 enough to ripen bananas. 
 
 " Laws, Masr Gin'ral ! Ain't we glad to see ye ! 
 Bin hopin' fur ye dese yere six weeks. Have so, fur 
 true." Such was the substance and general purport of 
 the first prolonged outcry of salutation. 
 
 " Couldn't get here any quicker, old folks," answered 
 Hilton, cordially shaking the black hands. " Too many 
 fine things to see on the way. Wasted some time in 
 England, trying to find out where the Hiltons came 
 from. How do you two like foreign parts ? " 
 
 Uncle Phil. " Like 'em firs' rate. Boss — heap sight 
 better'n Charleston." 
 
 The General. " Better than Charleston ? Old rep- 
 robate ! hoary apostate ! Have you turned your old 
 back on your country ? You don't get any sweet-pota- 
 toes here." 
 
 Uncle Phil (sniggering). "Da's so. Boss — nor hoe- 
 cake, nuther. But we gits 'long mighty fine on white 
 bread an' chickin. We has good eatin', Boss." 
 
 Aunt Chloe. " Never lit on no better, Masr, not in 
 no times. An' y' know cookin' has kinder died out in 
 Sou' Carliny sence d'wah. Crow an' corn don' grow in 
 same field." 
 
 The General. " Oh ! shut up about the war. I'm 
 going to forget the war. Where are the ladies ? " 
 
 Aunt Chloe. *' Yere comes Miss Ginny. — Clar out, 
 Phil ! Don' you an' me be bodderin' roun'." (Exeunt 
 Uncle Phil and Aunt Chloe.) 
 
204 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 Virginia arrived with rustling and laughter, a tem- 
 pest of silk and of glad girlhood. 
 
 " Oh, my dear General ! my dear old friend ! " she 
 exclaimed, clutching the hero's mighty arms and kissing 
 his leathery cheek. 
 
 " Ah, my child ! " returned Hilton, obviously much 
 affected. " Rose of Charleston ! flower of the low- 
 lands ! " he repeated, holding her by both hands and 
 gazing at her noble face with the frank admiration of 
 an elderly man for girlish freshness and beauty. Then 
 he led her to a sofa, placed her upon it tenderly, seated 
 himself in front of her, and studied her in silence. 
 
 " Well, what do you think of me ? " Virginia laughed, 
 joyously. " Have I changed ? " 
 
 " Only for the better," declared the General. 
 " Greatly for the better, and still the same. Still like 
 your family. Beaufort all over. Ah, Beaufort — Beau- 
 fort ! " he murmured in a caressing tone, letting his lips 
 dwell lovingly on the word. " There never was a fam- 
 ily like it — not on this side the water." 
 
 " This side, General ? " asked Virginia, with another 
 gay laugh. " Do you remember that you are in Eu- 
 rope ? " 
 
 " No," he said, smiling. " I am in South Carolina. 
 A South Carolinian is always in South Carolina. When 
 he says this side of the ocean, he means his side." 
 
 " And the Atlantic is bounded on the east by the 
 old country, where the South Carolinians came from, 
 and on the west by the country where they live now." 
 
 " That is our geography, my dear. I wonder you 
 should laugh at it. You have lost a little of the pristine 
 spirit. At home you wouldn't have joked on these 
 matters." 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 205 
 
 " It is a shame," said Virginia. *' But I can't help 
 it. It is so bewildering to travel ! Europe is magnifi- 
 cent, General, and Paris is bigger than Charleston." 
 
 " Yes, and I want to protest against it ; I want to 
 form a league against it. Can you guess how the sight 
 of this old-world splendor affects me ? It is beginning 
 to Americanize me. I want a vaster South Carolina 
 than I was contented with once. I want to spread that 
 name all over the United States, and look upon the 
 whole republic as South Carolina. We are not enough 
 alone to match ourselves against Europe. We want the 
 help of every man of our race on the other side of the 
 Atlantic." 
 
 " O General ! — ah. General ! You are more per- 
 verted than I. You are becoming a Federalist." 
 
 " It is a great country, my dear. I feel mightily 
 protected with an American passport in my pocket. 
 Civis Momanus swn. What a country it is ! A wave 
 of its hand sends imperial France out of Mexico. What 
 other state in the whole world orders Napoleon away 
 from its borders ? " 
 
 " My good old friend, you are turning traitor to Jef- 
 ferson Davis. Would you dare talk in this way to 
 Robert E. Lee ? " 
 
 " My dear, on my way ISTorth I saw him — the lovely 
 old Christian hero ! He said very much these same 
 things to me. He is submissive, sublime, beautiful ! 
 He bows to the will of Providence. He honestly ac- 
 cepts the government which God has given him." 
 
 " Ah, dear ! " sighed Virginia. " The soldiers have 
 abandoned the fisjht, and onlv the women continue it." 
 
 " The women and the politicians — the politicians on 
 both sides : may God confound them ! I don't mean 
 
206 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 the women — God help them ! They have sore, wounded 
 hearts, and they can't forget all in a moment." 
 
 " Never ! — I never can forget ! " declared Virginia. 
 She spoke energetically, but not quite with the old ran- 
 cor. 
 
 " I don't blame you," said Hilton, gently. " Never- 
 theless, may God aid you to forget ! You will find a 
 blessing in forgetfulness. I have come to the opinion 
 that true policy, as well as true magnanimity, consists 
 in forgetting our enmities as faithfully as we remember 
 our friendships." 
 
 " Ah, well ! " responded the girl, drawing another 
 sigh, a slightly weary one, as if one might tire of the 
 subject. "We won't dispute about it. I can't agree 
 with you, but we won't dispute." 
 
 Hilton waved his hand, as if bidding farewell to the 
 ugly reminiscence, and then glanced about the apart- 
 ment. It was the first Parisian suite of rooms that he 
 had seen, and he was evidently pleased with its fur- 
 nishings and knickknackeries. 
 
 " You are finely off here," he smiled. " How many 
 pretty things ! " 
 
 " I am ashamed of my luxury when I think of our 
 poor people at home," Virginia said. " At all events, I 
 have the satisfaction of being out of debt to South Car- 
 olinians. I am proud and glad of having paid you, 
 General. Excuse my mentioning it." 
 
 " Mention it as often as you please, my child," he 
 laughed. " I like to hear about it. It is an immense 
 pleasure to be worth money again." 
 
 Then followed a brief dialogue, from which it ap- 
 peared that Virginia had devoted a certain sum to the 
 relief of Charleston's poor, and that the General had 
 
THE BLOODY CEASM. 207 
 
 distributed it for her. He told a pathetic tale of wid- 
 ows, orphans, and disabled soldiers. 
 
 " Oh, dear ! I ought to go back," groaned Virginia. 
 " But I am afraid of meeting — " 
 
 "Your husband," said Hilton, looking her steadily 
 in the face, as if he meant to impress her with the title 
 and its claims. 
 
 "I hate the word," the girl broke out. "Please 
 don't use it. We never mention his name." 
 
 " I had hoped that somewhat of that feeling might 
 have passed away," returned the General, softly. He 
 glanced about the fine parlor again, and added : " It 
 seems to me that, under the circumstances, it ought not 
 to last a lifetime. May I tell you, my dear, that, when 
 I distributed your gift among our poor friends, I almost 
 felt it a duty to inform them that, after all, it was 
 Yankee money ? " 
 
 " Oh ! why do you throw that in my face ? " de- 
 manded Virginia, fairly flinching in body as well as in 
 spirit. 
 
 Hilton remained pensive a moment, and then asked, 
 " Can you tell me where he is ? " 
 
 " No ! " was the quick and almost angry reply. 
 
 " I had hoped you could. I have lost track of 
 him." 
 
 "What in the world do you want to keep track of 
 him for ? " 
 
 " He has done some fine things. He, too, has given 
 large bounty to the Southern poor, and I am the only 
 person who knew whence the mercy came." 
 
 " I wish you hadn't told me that," murmured Vir- 
 ginia. " What do you want to make me uncomfortable 
 for ? " 
 
208 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 " So you can give me no news of him ? " the General 
 repeated, almost disconsolately. 
 
 " No, not a word — thank Heaven ! I can't help say- 
 ing so." 
 
 "I hope sincerely that nothing has happened to 
 him." 
 
 Virginia colored with sudden excitement, and asked 
 eagerly, " Has he really disappeared ? " 
 
 Thereupon Hilton told what he knew. He had 
 written to Underhill two months ago, and got no an- 
 swer ; on his way to Europe he had sought him in Bos- 
 ton, but without success ; he had found numbers of his 
 friends, but all were ignorant of his whereabout. 
 
 " Yankee friends ! " sneered Virginia. Then she 
 added in a tone of argument, "You can see that he 
 has no real friends." 
 
 "He has owe," affirmed the General, slapping the 
 knee of his amputated leg so emphatically that the girl 
 recoiled, looking awed, hurt, and humbled. " Well," he 
 resumed, " I could learn nothing of him, except that he 
 had been heard to talk of a trip to Calif oraia and China, 
 and that he was gone." 
 
 " I hope he is at the antipodes, and likes it," muttered 
 Virginia. 
 
 " I hope he is safe," replied Hilton, gazing at her 
 gravely — so gravely and indeed reprovingly that she 
 felt driven to add, " Of course, I don't wish him any 
 harm." 
 
 "Certainly not," said Hilton. "He has done you 
 what good he might, and as little harm as possible." 
 
 " O General ! I had expected a friend, and here 
 you come as a foe ! " was the half -mournful, half -petu- 
 lant response. It was clear enough that the young 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 209 
 
 woman had been somewhat wearied and fretted by the 
 persistent presentation of the excellences and the claims 
 of her husband. 
 
 Hilton divined this, looked about the room for a new 
 topic, and, perceiving Virginia's piano, asked for a song. 
 But just then De Bethune arrived to give his lesson in 
 music. The hostess received him so graciously and cor- 
 dially that the old friend bent his solemn gray eyes 
 upon the new one with studious inspection. De Be- 
 thune, on his part, was tremendously impressed at being 
 presented to a General ; he looked so wonderstruck and 
 made a bow so full of reverence that Hilton stared at 
 him in surprise. A minute later, standing beside his 
 pupil at the piano, he whispered to her : " Pardon my 
 moment of confusion, Miss Beaufort. I never before 
 met a general officer. I really could not talk." 
 
 She was already running her fingers through a jDre- 
 lude, and she merely replied by a little laugh of sur- 
 prise. The General, meanwhile, reposed his vast length 
 upon a sofa, waiting anxiously for the voice which he 
 loved. He noted the smiling confidence between the 
 two others, and he was undisguisably ill pleased with it. 
 His suspicion, of course, was that this foreigner, this 
 bowing and smirking and cooing Frenchman, was try- 
 ing to pay court to Mrs. Underbill. He staid through 
 the whole music-lesson like a duenna. Then, when 
 Mrs. Dumont came in from a shopping raid, he caught 
 an opportunity to grumble at her for leaving her niece 
 so much alone. A long confabulation on Southern 
 matters and Charlestonian gossip did not fully restore 
 his equanimity, and when he left the Beaufort rooms he 
 still wore a brooding and anxious countenance. 
 
210 TEE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 CHAPTER XXYII. 
 
 For a week or so the General was prodigiously oc- 
 cupied with Paris, as Americans are apt to be when they 
 first reach that city of splendors and delights. 
 
 He took a cab by the day, and drove everywhere and 
 saw everything ; he was perpetually in a cab, or a gal- 
 lery, or a church, or a theatre. He began his inspec- 
 tion of the marvelous capital in the company of Mrs. 
 Dumont and Virginia, but, finding that they wearied a 
 little of twice-seen sights, he magnanimously continued 
 the labor alone — not always alone, either, for, as he was 
 a social, urbane, personable man, genial in deportment 
 and attractive in appearance, he drew to himself quite a 
 number of chance acquaintance. Yankees made up to 
 him, and only guessed little by little that he had been 
 a rebel, and parted from him with wonder that they 
 could be sorry to lose sight of a rebel. Englishmen cot- 
 toned to him, and fairly loved him when they learned 
 that he was an ex-Confederate, and almost bowed down 
 to him when they heard him called General. A German 
 count was delighted to practice upon him his moderate 
 stock of English, and a custodian who could not under- 
 stand a word he said showed him the private rooms of 
 the Tuileries. 
 
 Among these picture-gallery intimates was a pretty 
 little black-eyed lady, whom he nearly stumbled over in 
 one of the dimmest passages of the Louvre, and who 
 received his apologies with such a winning smile and 
 ready sparkle of small-talk, that he at once addressed 
 her as a countrywoman, and strolled on with her for 
 half an hour, gathering conversation and companion- 
 ship out of various schools of painting. The result was 
 
THE BLOODY CEASM. 211 
 
 that the two exchanged cards, and the General called 
 next day on Mrs. Fitz James, and the acquaintance be- 
 came permanent. On his second visit he learned that 
 she had quitted her private apartment for the Hotel du 
 Louvre. Betaking himself thither during the course of 
 the day, he found the little lady attired as if to go out. 
 ." I have come at the wrong moment," he said, glan- 
 cing at her hat. "Don't let me detain you." 
 
 *' You always come at the right moment. General," 
 smiled Mrs. Fitz James. " Gentlemen are apt to. Do 
 sit down. Some friends are to call for me, but mean- 
 time I want somebody to talk to." 
 
 " I wonder at your leaving your pretty rooms," re- 
 marked Hilton. " Do you like hotels best ? " 
 
 " Oh ! sometimes," vaguely answered the lady, who 
 had a reason for her change which she did not care to 
 avow. " You are at the Hotel Castiglione, are you not ? '» 
 she rattled on. " It is a quiet little place, and very 
 handy to the theatres. But why not come here? I 
 always did like the Hotel du Louvre. The service is so 
 good ! A lady likes to be waited on. Then the palace 
 is close by. I adore the galleries. And then the shop— 
 the Magasin du Louvre— it is right under us. You 
 don't care for shopping, I suppose. But we do— we 
 silly women. I can lull myself to sleep with thinking 
 of the sweet things down below me. By-the-way, I am 
 going out with your lovely friend and pet, Virginia. 
 Isn't she superb ? I think so. We are to go to a 
 private concert— something very choice and recherche. 
 I wish I had a card for you. But De Bethune could 
 only get three ; so we must leave you out. Of course, 
 he did what he could for Virginia. He is ravi de Ma- 
 demoiselle Virginie, and no wonder. I sometimes wish 
 
212 THE BLOODY Off ASM. 
 
 he could find a success there. Isn't he charming ? — and 
 such a lineage, too ! One seldom hears of anything as 
 old as Richard the Lion-hearted. It is a real pity that 
 such an elegant man of such high descent should have 
 neither title nor estate. A fortune would mend all that. 
 What do you think, General, of trying to get Virginia 
 for him ? " 
 
 " Preposterous ! " exclaimed the old friend of the 
 Beauforts, angered as well as confounded by this bab- 
 ble, and not able at the moment to decide whether he 
 should or should not reveal the fact of Virginia's mar- 
 riage. Presently he remembered his manners, and 
 added hastily : *' Excuse me. I know the young lady 
 well. It isn't possible that she could take an interest in 
 him." 
 
 " I know her too," laughed Lotharlnga, tossing her 
 saucy little head, brimful of coquetries and suspicions 
 of coquetries. " A woman knows a woman better than 
 a man can. Virginia and I have been rivals for De 
 Bethune ; that is, in a composed, decent, friendly way ; 
 nothing at all emotional, you understand — no trans- 
 ports of jealousy. But I have given him up to her — 
 since I met you, General," she added with another sil- 
 very laugh. 
 
 The General did not respond to her jocose compli- 
 ment, not even by a smile. In spite of his habitual ur- 
 banity and his efforts at self-control, he had somewhat 
 the air of being indignant, and also anxious. Perhaps 
 it occurred to Lotharinga that he was in love with Vir- 
 ginia himself ; at all events, after one bright glance at 
 his solemnized face, she changed the subject. 
 
 " Oh ! I forgot," she said ; " have you seen Colonel 
 Peyton ? " 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 213 
 
 " Colonel Peyton ? " repeated Hilton, absently. 
 
 " Ah, you haven't met him, then ? He is a Virgin- 
 ian ; and such a superb gentleman ! just the Virginian 
 type. I want you to meet him. I know you will be 
 delierhted with each other." 
 
 "Where is he staying?" asked the General, who 
 could not help being interested at last by the name of 
 Peyton, so redolent of Southern aristocracy. 
 
 "Here — at the hotel," hesitated the widovv, color- 
 ing a little, and letting her gaze wander. Even a man 
 might guess that she had come to reside in the Hotel 
 du Louvre for the sake of being under the same roof 
 with that wonderful Virginian. Hilton looked at her, 
 dropped his eyes considerately to the floor, and quietly 
 murmured that he should be much pleased to meet the 
 Colonel. Just then a servant brought in a card, and 
 Lotharinga rose with a smile of apology. 
 
 "I must go," she said. "The carriage is waiting. 
 Don't give yourself the trouble to go down with me." 
 
 Knowing well that his escort would be a detention, 
 the wooden-legged hero only went with Mrs. Fitz James 
 as far as the head of the stairway, and there bade her 
 adieu with a ceremonious bow. Then, after the rustle 
 of her swift descent had flitted out of hearing, he 
 limped slowly earthward, muttering aloud, " Frivolous, 
 dangerous rattle-pate ! Very bad company for my 
 pet ! " 
 
 On the landing of the second flight he halted, and 
 stared with a puzzled air at an ascending figure. It 
 was a blonde young man, dressed in a complete suit of 
 Confederate gray, with his yellow hair combed straight 
 and cut square across his forehead. His eyes were bent 
 upon the stairs, and he did not see the General. 
 
214 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, sir," hesitated Hilton. "Is 
 this — isn't this Colonel — " 
 
 Before the mystified man could finish his query, the 
 other looked up, smiled familiarly, put forth his hand 
 and replied : " Yes, it is Colonel Peyton. How are 
 you. General ? " 
 
 " Good Heavens ! You don't mean — whv, God bless 
 my soul ! " exclaimed the amazed Hilton. 
 
 "Yes, I am Colonel Peyton," returned Underhill. 
 " I'm in disguise," he added in a serio-comic whisper. 
 " Come into my room, and I'll tell you all about it. . . . 
 Yes, I am Mrs. Fitz James's Colonel Peyton," he con- 
 tinued, when they were alone. " I am playing the Con- 
 federate hero. I am planning to make my wife's ac- 
 quaintance." 
 
 The General gazed at him a moment with a per- 
 plexed countenance, as though he either disapproved 
 morally of the stratagem, or doubted its success. At 
 last, with an air of suspending judgment, he simply re- 
 plied, " She just drove away from the door, I believe." 
 
 " I saw her : she is very beautiful — very ! " said 
 Underhill. He remained pensive an instant, as if re- 
 calling the image to his mind, and then added : " She 
 looked me straight in the face. Ah, General ! it made 
 my heart beat horribly." 
 
 Hilton leaned forward in his chair, seized the young 
 man's hand, and wrung it hard. " You have my utmost 
 sympathy," he declared. " What can I do for you ? " 
 
 " Keep my secret, at least for a while. Help me on 
 with it, if you feel that you may. Learn, for instance, 
 to call me Pevton." 
 
 "Secret!" exclaimed the General. "What secret 
 is there about it? Here you are going around with 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM, 215 
 
 your own face on. I should have known you at once 
 but for your new way of brushing your hair." 
 
 " Exactly. You would have known me, if you had 
 known me. A very slight change in a face will puzzle 
 a man, especially when he meets the face unexpectedly. 
 As for my wife, she wouldn't know me in any shape, 
 unless I should put on false whiskers." 
 
 " And you propose to make her acquaintance under 
 a feiened name ? " asked Hilton. " It strikes me as — 
 dangerous." 
 
 " It strikes me in the same way. She may discover 
 the trick, and be angered by it. But what else can I 
 do? She wouldn't see me under my own name. I 
 wrote to her once, and the letter came back indorsed, 
 * Not found.' She passes, it seems, as Miss Beaufort." 
 
 " Ah, you know that ! " sighed the friend of the 
 Beauforts. "I am sorry." 
 
 "It wasn't a pleasant discovery. Still, I have 
 made up my mind not to be disgusted, and not to be 
 balked." 
 
 "Don't be balked, Colonel," begged the General. 
 " Go on, for your own sake, and for hers," he added, 
 remembering the alleged courtship of De Bethune. 
 
 Underbill noted that his visitor looked wearied and 
 worried, and, remembering his taste for strong liquors, 
 offered to ring for brandy. 
 
 "No, thank you," was the unexpected reply. "I 
 have stopped all that. Prosperity has returned to me, 
 and I don't need drink as I did. I rarely touch any- 
 thinsj stronojer than claret." 
 
 " Is there anybody about my wife who knows me ? " 
 the young man resumed. 
 
 " No," said the General, and then groaned out : 
 
216 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 "Yes, good Heavens, yes ! Miss Macmorran is here, 
 and visits them." 
 
 " Ah, dear ! " said Underhill. " It would serve me 
 right if she should do something to hurt me." 
 
 Thereupon there was a long conversation about 
 Korah Macmorran, ending in an agreement that Hilton 
 should see her, confide to her the whole story of 
 the rejected husband's plot, and beg her not to dis- 
 close it. 
 
 *' I think she will try not to meet me," Harry sighed. 
 " She has good reason for wishing never to see my face 
 again." 
 
 "She is a noble girl," answered the General. "I 
 believe she will assent heartily to a project for bring- 
 ing man and wife together. As for her calling you 
 Peyton to your face, I hope she won't be forced to try 
 it. I don't see how I can do it myself." 
 
 " You 07iiist do it, my dear friend," urged Underhill. 
 " Can't you stand by a fellow who is in love with his 
 wife — in love with a Beaufort ? " 
 
 " Yes, by Jove ! " promised the General. " I'll call 
 you Peyton, if I never look man or woman in the eye 
 again." 
 
 " And you will introduce me ? " 
 
 " O good Lord ! My dear fellow, I couldn't do 
 it." 
 
 " I'll beg Mrs. Fitz James to present me." 
 
 " No, not Mrs. Fitz James," said the General, eagerly. 
 " Better get her brother to take you there." 
 
 "Why not the sister?" 
 
 "I don't like that little — witch. Excuse me; I 
 hope the epithet doesn't annoy you : but I can't like 
 her. The fact is, Underhill — Peyton I should say, and 
 
TEE BLOODY CEASM. 217 
 
 ^ill_tbe fact is, I don't want you with her. She is 
 cracked about you." 
 
 " Oh ! don't fear Mrs. Fitz James, General," the 
 young man replied, gravely. " I am in love w^ith my 
 wife, and I never shall be in love with any one else. I 
 don't know that I can get Mrs. Fitz James to present 
 me," he added. " I have been hinting at it for a week, 
 and she keeps evading it." 
 
 " Jealous," suggested Hilton. " Well, if she won't, 
 try her brother ; and, if he fails you, come to me.'* 
 
 CHAPTER XXVm. 
 
 It must be understood that, while the General 
 could make a call or two on Mrs. Fitz James, and could 
 do a tourist's full duty by the sights of Paris, he did 
 not fail to see much of his two old friends, the last relics 
 of the Beaufort lineage. 
 
 He liked them and admired them more than ever. 
 At home he had sometimes been tempted to consider 
 Mrs. Dumont rather dull, if not positively light-headed ; 
 but in a foreign land, and comparing her wdth people 
 who could not speak his language, she seemed as solid 
 and bright as a gold eagle. In fact, the worthy lady 
 had really and greatly improved during the last half 
 year or so. Prosperity, physical well-being, and tran- 
 quillity of feeling had restored to her reasonableness of 
 temper and of opinion. She no longer raved and glared 
 like a sailor going mad with hunger and despair on a 
 wreck. She had regained the natural urbanity and 
 10 
 
218 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 dignity of a Beaufort, and was as sensible in her views 
 of life as her circumstances required. 
 
 As to Virginia, the General fairly reveled in her 
 graces, and hardly knew which to admire most, her 
 cleverness or her beauty. "Good Heavens, how the 
 child has grown ! " he said to the happy aunt. " She 
 is a foot taller, mentally and morally, than she was a 
 year ago. She was a little like a noble savage then. 
 Now she is fit to be a queen of civilized men. She 
 knows things that I don't. I am positively gathering 
 information and ideas from her. What a gift she has 
 in languages, for example ! She speaks French like a 
 native — better than the natives — more distinctly and 
 comprehensibly. There must be such a thing as de- 
 scended faculty. My belief is, that a person of old 
 English stock couldn't learn French in that way." 
 
 " The practice in singing helps," explained Mrs. Du- 
 mont, who had not found that her French blood gave 
 her much command of the tongue. " At least, that is 
 what Virginia says. She says that Mr. De Bethune is 
 her teacher, both in music and in the languasre." 
 
 The General became absent-minded, and presently 
 grumbled, " I don't quite fancy that obsequious fellow." 
 
 "You surprise me," protested Mrs. Dumont. "Mr. 
 De Bethune is what I call an elegant gentleman." 
 
 ''Oh, is he?" growled the hero. "Well, perhaps, 
 I have too lately come from South Carolina to be a good 
 judge of gentility." 
 
 , Mrs. Dumont looked hurt and little less than indig- 
 nant. "I admit that he has not our manner," she 
 bridled. "He has a softness of address which Caro- 
 linians at first might be apt to consider effeminate. 
 But it is very common here, especially among the high- 
 
TEE BLOOEY CEASM. 219 
 
 er classes. One soon comes to like it. For instance, it 
 gives me great pleasure, General, to note Mr. De Be- 
 thune's exceedingly respectful manner to yow," con- 
 cluded the lady with personal pungency. 
 
 "That is just what I object to," insisted Hilton. 
 " He has the style, if you will allow me to say so, of a 
 neffro bodv-servant. I don't want to be crino^ed to in 
 that way by a white man." 
 
 " It's your title. General ; it's your honorable title. 
 You don't understand what it is in Europe to be a gen- 
 eral. It is something like being a duke. I believe mili- 
 tary rank is about as highly considered here as nobility. 
 Mr. De Bethune has remarked to us more than once 
 that you are the only general he knows." 
 
 "He must have kept pretty lowly company," was 
 the sulky comment of the ex-brigadier. " He had bet- 
 ter move to South Carolina and get used to generals." 
 
 " I trust you will forgive him for being respectful to 
 you," retorted Mrs. Dumont. " We admire him for it." 
 
 The gentleman turned a glance of inspection upon 
 the lady. Probably it struck him all at once that De 
 Bethune might be the favorite of the aunt, instead of 
 the niece. At all events, a pleasanter expression came 
 into his eyes, and he answered in a placating tone : " Oh, 
 very likely I do the young man injustice. You know 
 him better than I." 
 
 Then Norah Macmorran dropped in, and Virginia 
 made her appearance, and the two girls sang together. 
 The South Carolinian hidalgo was very polite, almost 
 reverentially polite, to the poor Irish girl. He rose on 
 his wooden leg when she entered, and shook hands with 
 her cordially, and helped her to a chair. Mrs. Dumont 
 was so astonished that she came very near staring. 
 
220 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 The General, of course, did not explain that, aside from 
 respecting Miss Macmorran, he earnestly wished to gain 
 her good-will, with a view to securing her secrecy in 
 the matter of Virginia's husband. When she left, he 
 opened the door for her in his grandest manner, and 
 also escorted her homeward as far as the Champs- 
 Elysees. There, in the solitude of vast monumental 
 spaces, he gently told her of the presence and plan of 
 Underhill. 
 
 Korah walked by his side, her eyes bent on the pave- 
 ment, her pale cheek a little paler than usual, and her 
 whole soul listening. She was a most pathetic figure, 
 and Hilton could not bear to look at her. At the last, 
 when he had ceased speaking, she drew a deep, desper- 
 ate gasp, and asked in a palpitating voice, " Will he go 
 to her rooms to see her?" 
 
 Judging by the expression of the General's counte- 
 nance, it would have been possible for him to cry with 
 pity. Nevertheless, he remembered his anxiety for 
 Underbill's success, and he answered in a tone of busi- 
 ness-like firmness : "Yes, he will go there to see her — 
 under a feigned name, you understand — the name of 
 Colonel Peyton. If you should meet him, will you 
 kindly remember to address him by that name, or at 
 least to avoid mentioning his true name ? " 
 
 " I shall not meet him," said Korah, in an almost 
 inaudible monotone. 
 
 The General took her hand with such a fervor of 
 manner as if he were on the point of kissing it. He 
 did not raise his eyes to her face ; indeed, it would have 
 been useless to do so — the face was turned away. 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you, my dear and sweet 
 young lady," he said. " If we can bring this husband 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 221 
 
 and wife together, I think we shall be rewarded in our 
 souls. I trust and pray with my whole heart that you 
 
 may be." 
 
 " I thank you, sir," replied Norah, still speaking in 
 the same low monotone, but not wdthout a touch of 
 tenderness, as if it were of gratitude. 
 
 " Good-by, my dear and good child," said the Gen- 
 eral. 
 
 " Good-by, sir," softly answered Norah. And then, 
 without looking each other in the face — so fearful was 
 the one of showing and the other of seeing pain — they 
 parted. 
 
 An hour or two later Hilton met Underhill, and 
 learned that during the following morning he was to 
 be presented at the Beaufort apartments by Mrs. Fitz 
 James. 
 
 " Ah ! " he exclaimed. " The little flirt is to accom- 
 plish some good without knowing it. But, Colonel, 
 can you do it ? It wall be worse than storming a bat- 
 tery." 
 
 " I am terribly frightened — I admit it," the young 
 man confessed. " But it must be done." 
 
 '' To think of that perverse child scaring two veteran 
 soldiers nearly to death ! " said the General. " Well, 
 I'll be there — I'll be there before you ; and I'll call you 
 Peyton, if it chokes me. At twelve, you say ? I'll be 
 there when you arrive, and speak to you like a man." 
 
 At the appointed hour, next day, the General was in 
 the Beaufort parlor, holding bland converse w^ith the 
 destined victim of his well-intentioned guile. He had 
 summoned up all his courage, and he looked as steady 
 as a veteran battalion. The discourse turned upon 
 Norah Macmorran. 
 
222 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 " I think she is as lovely as her voice," said Virginia, 
 with honest warmth. " I think she is thoroughly good." 
 
 " Charmingly, touchingly good," answered the Gen- 
 eral, remembering the pathetic scene in the Champs- 
 Elysees. 
 
 " She gets that sweetly modest way from the Sis- 
 ters," added Virginia. " A great many Catholic girls 
 have it. It is a sincere expression, too, in Norah's case. 
 I believe it really represents her character." 
 
 " I think a great deal better of the girl than I did 
 at first," put in ]Mrs. Dumont, with a certain air of con- 
 descension, very proper in a Beaufort. " I had a preju- 
 dice against her for a time. But she is a good child." 
 
 *' I wish I were young enough to marry her," declared 
 the General. " I think as well of her as that." 
 
 " Don't take her away from De Bethune," Virginia 
 laughed. " I believe there is a chance of a match there, 
 if you won't interfere." 
 
 "Is there!" exclaimed Hilton, delighted with the 
 idea, and delighted that she should seem to like it. 
 " Hope he may get her. He's a nice fellow." 
 
 " I thought you didn't admire him," innocently re- 
 marked Mrs. Dumont. 
 
 " Oh ! he improves on acquaintance," said the Gen- 
 eral, with equal simplicity. " I don't feel sure, how- 
 ever, that he is good enough for Miss Macmorran. She 
 is very lovable. I must say that I like that nunnery 
 manner. I wish the monastic orders had the schooling 
 of some of our Protestant hoydens. There is Mrs. Lo- 
 tharinga Fitz James, for example — " 
 
 " Hush ! " interrupted Virginia. " Some one is in 
 the passage." 
 
 In fact, there came a light tapping at the door. The 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 223 
 
 General, who expected Underbill, turned an alarmed 
 face in that direction ; but the visitor proved to be 
 merely the genial and silvery Mr. Frank Hedstone. 
 
 " Ladies, your most obedient," he smiled and bowed 
 in his mock-ceremonious way. — " Mon General^ salut 
 au her OS — in plain English, Hail to the chief ! — Miss 
 Beaufort, where is my sister ? Any other person will 
 do as well who can lend me twenty napoleons." 
 
 " We are afraid you will spend them, Mr. Hedstone," 
 said Virginia. " If you would only keep them in your 
 pocket till the time for repaying them — Do you really 
 want twenty napoleons ? " 
 
 " Thank you," he laughed. " But I won't take them 
 from you. On reflection, I prefer family gold." 
 
 " Your sister would have been very welcome," put 
 in Mrs. Dumont. " Why didn't you bring her your- 
 self ? " 
 
 " Another gentleman was to do that," said Hedstone. 
 "A brother seldom gets the privilege of being an 
 
 escort." 
 
 " Not when the sister is pretty and admired," Vir- 
 ginia smiled. 
 
 " Yes, it's the plain sisters, I suppose, who are fond 
 
 of their brothers." 
 
 " I don't think a girl who has been coiTectly edu- 
 cated would ever be indifferent to the company of a 
 brother," affirmed Mrs. Dumont, a lady who never ut- 
 tered a joke and rarely understood one — a lady who 
 had no conception of the number of jokes in the 
 world. 
 
 " But where is Lotharinga ? " asked Virginia. " Did 
 you really expect to find her here ? " 
 
 Hedstone looked surprised and then amused. His 
 
224: THE BLOODY Off ASM. 
 
 clever sister had promised to give the Beauf orts notice 
 that she would call on them with Colonel Peyton, so 
 that they might not fail to be at home. She had prom- 
 ised this, and had not done it. But her stratagem had 
 failed ; the Beauf orts had not chanced to go out : the 
 Colonel would see Virginia. 
 
 " I am not sure that she will come," said the brother, 
 on due reflection. " But I had looked for it." 
 
 " She is very much occupied, I believe, with some 
 Virginia gentleman," remarked, or rather queried, Mrs. 
 Dumont. 
 
 " Oh, yes, she is making a conquest," Virginia added, 
 
 gayly. 
 
 " I think a conquest is being made," said Hedstone. 
 " I am not sure that it is Lottie who is making it." 
 
 The ladies smiled, but they stared also. How could 
 a brother thus joke about his sister, even though she 
 were a widow and a gay one ? They seemed to be say- 
 ing within themselves that no such reckless speech had 
 ever been uttered in the Beaufort family. Meantime 
 the General furtively glanced at the door, as if he feared 
 that Underhill would never come, and that he might 
 even have been run off with by Mrs. Fitz James ! Of 
 a sudden he heard the penetrating tinkle of her voice 
 in the hall ; and his eyes turned upon Virginia with an 
 expression of anxiety near akin to fright. If ever he 
 had been so scared in battle, he certainly could not re- 
 collect it. 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM, 225 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Although Mrs. Fitz James had not wanted to bring 
 her Colonel to see Virginia, there was no sign of this 
 unwillingness in her face and manner when she dashed 
 into the Beaufort parlor. Her eyes sparkled and her lips 
 radiated smiles as she kissed the two ladies, nodded to 
 the General, made a mouth at her brother, and turned 
 to her companion, all in the twinkling of a will-o'-the- 
 wisp. 
 
 " My dears, this is Colonel Peyton — Virginian, pa- 
 triot, and poet," was her gay introduction. — " Colonel, 
 this is Mrs. Dumont, and this is Miss Beaufort." 
 
 Underhill, standing near the door, bowed gravely 
 and in silence, first to his wife's aunt, and then to his 
 wife. He was at the moment very handsome, and they 
 must have thought so. He was quite pale ; his eyes 
 settled upon Virginia with impressive earnestness ; his 
 expression had the pathos of longing and anxiety. Not 
 until he had turned to Hilton was he able to utter a 
 word. Then, extending his hand, he simply said in a 
 low voice, " I am'glad to meet you." 
 
 " Glad to meet you — Peyton," stammered the Gen- 
 eral, repeating the salutation mechanically, but manag- 
 ing to get in the right name. 
 
 Mrs. Fitz James glanced uneasily around this scene 
 of mysterious but discernible emotion. Mrs. Dumont 
 gazed with innocent, cordial respect at a gentleman who 
 wore the gray and who bore the honored name of Pey- 
 ton. Virginia was also greatly interested ; she had al- 
 ready heard from Lotharinga that the Colonel was a 
 poet ; and to her mind there was no other title on earth 
 so fascinating as that. Moreover, there must have been 
 
226 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 a potent flattery — unconscious, perhaps, but none the 
 less ingratiating — in the discovery that this man faced 
 her with respect and even with agitation. Her expres- 
 sion was that of one who wishes to say her kindliest, 
 but who can not think of the right phrase. 
 
 Mrs. Dumont graciously came to the rescue ; she 
 seated the visitor and made him quite an oration. She 
 said that she was glad to see him ; that she was always 
 glad to see Virginians ; that she was particularly pleased 
 to meet a person of his name ; that she was honored by 
 a call from a gentleman who had worn the gray. Un- 
 derhill was too much bewildered to note her harangue 
 precisely, and he could only respond to it by bowing 
 repeatedly and smiling patiently. Thereupon the good 
 lady guessed that he was still suffering from his wounds, 
 and insisted with fervid sympathy that he should take 
 a certain large easy-chair. 
 
 " Don't assign it to me," said Underbill, who had 
 courteously risen when she rose. " Here is the General, 
 who is far worthier." 
 
 They were the first words that he had uttered, and 
 they made an exceedingly favorable* impression. Vir- 
 ginia smiled in his face with bright approval, and im- 
 pulsively signed him to a seat near herself. He took 
 it, and then spoke to her, for the first time in his life, 
 unless the marriage-vows might be called discourse. 
 
 "You are very kind to receive me," he said in a 
 murmurous monotone, the voice of a man striving to 
 hide emotion. " I am a stranger to nearly everybody 
 
 in Paris." 
 
 " I am most happy to receive any Confederate sol- 
 dier," were the first words of the Southern wife to the 
 !N'orthern husband. 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 227 
 
 Underhill hesitated, and no wonder. It was very 
 difficult to talk at all, under the circumstances ; and it 
 was especially difficult to make suitable response to such 
 a welcome. After pausing for a moment, he added 
 dreamily and soberly, " So you are devoted to the lost 
 cause ? " 
 
 " I lost too much with it not to be devoted to it," 
 she said, with honest seriousness. 
 
 He raised his eyes and looked her full in the face ; 
 he seemed to be studying her, and also approving. 
 " That is a noble sentiment, allow me to tell you," he 
 declared. "Most people hate the vessels that have 
 shipwrecked them." 
 
 Mrs. Fitz James turned to Hilton, and whispered — 
 loud enough for Underhill to hear : " Isn't that splendid ? 
 He's a poet, you know." 
 
 The General mumbled something about some people 
 living poetry, and then hemmed loudly, as if ashamed 
 of himself for not being able to talk. 
 
 "Colonel," said Virginia, "I don't think a sailor 
 hates his ship, even if it has wrecked him." 
 
 He smiled with an air of being pleased with her 
 cleverness ; he had perhaps been fearful of finding his 
 wife stupid. 
 
 " You are quite right," he answered. " There were 
 no passengers at the South ; everybody belonged to the 
 ship's company." 
 
 " Except the mountain mutineers and the bomb-proof 
 skulks," put in the General, finding at last something to 
 say. "Of the two, I liked the mountain-men best." 
 
 " Horrid wretches ! " exclaimed Mrs. Dumont. " Ly- 
 ing out in the woods, and shooting at our patrols ! " 
 
 "But they fought, madame," insisted the old sol- 
 
228 THE BLOODY CHASM, 
 
 dier, as if fighting covered a multitude of sins, wliich 
 indeed was his gospel. "They fought like wolres. 
 They didn't disgrace the name of Southerner by squat- 
 ting in the grass like turkeys." 
 
 "It's a satisfaction to think that the grass waves 
 over a good many of them ! " declared Mrs. Dumont. 
 She did not utter the bitter words rancorously, but 
 rather as if she had got into a way of saying such things 
 during the war, and continued to do it from habit rather 
 than from feeling. 
 
 " Ah, Mrs. Dumont, you and I didn't have our fight 
 out," smiled that light mocker, Hedstone. " I am very 
 warlike to this day. All good Baltimoreans are." 
 
 " Isn't he shameful, Colonel Peyton, to make fun of 
 his own city ? " giggled Mrs. Fitz James. 
 
 But the Colonel did not hear her. During this brief 
 dialogue about the war he had been furtively and in- 
 tently watching his wife. It was necessarily a point of 
 great interest vsrith him to learn whether she still sym- 
 pathized passionately with the old Confederate /*wror. 
 
 Mrs. Fitz James rose in a pet, rustled over to Hil- 
 ton, and dropped into a chair by his side, saying, 
 " Come, General, you and I will have a tUe-d-ttteP 
 
 "With all my heart," returned Underhill's friend 
 and confederate. " But I have no small talk ; you 
 must entertain me. Do let me lead you to the piano 
 and beg of you a Scotch ballad. I can't understand 
 Virginia's learned music — Wagner's stuff and that sort 
 of thing — very pleasant to wagoners, I dare say." 
 
 " Oh ! well," muttered Lotharinga, discontentedly, 
 but suffering herself to be beguiled. "I can't play, 
 you know. But I'll murder something." 
 
 Then Mrs. Dumont, either because she felt bound to 
 
TEE BLOODY CEASM. 229 
 
 do the hospitable to Mrs. Fitz James, or because she 
 had discovered that the noble Virginian stranger wished 
 to converse with her niece rather than w^th herself, 
 suggested to Mr. Hedstone that they two should step 
 over to the musical end of the saloon and help make an 
 audience. 
 
 " What ! to hear my sister play ? " he smiled. " Well 
 anything for a joke." 
 
 Thus it happened at last that the guileful Underhill 
 had his unsuspecting wife a little to himself. For a 
 time, however, the conversation was far from agreeable 
 to him ; it seemed impossible to drag it away from that 
 old and angry subject, the war. Virginia still had the 
 siege of Charleston much at heart, and she told him a 
 good deal about the perils and hardships of the be- 
 leaguered citizens. 
 
 " You must have found it very trying," he said, ea- 
 ger to have her speak of herself. 
 
 "I didn't," she replied. "I always hoped to beat." 
 
 He strove to smile, but he looked anxious. There 
 was a tone of pluck and pugnacity in the speech which 
 made him fear that he should never win her. 
 
 " But oh, what a disappointment ! " she added. 
 " What a wretched end it all came to ! " 
 
 " Would you prefer to talk of something else ? " he 
 asked, hopefully. 
 
 " I am always coming back to that doleful war," she 
 answered. " It is like a nightmare ; one struggles out 
 of it only to drop back into it : it seems as if it would 
 last all one's life." 
 
 Of course, he wanted to argue against giving up to 
 the nightmare, " Perhaps it would be well to make an 
 effort to diminish the strength of the recollection," he 
 
(I 
 
 230 TffB BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 said. " It is unwise to live constantly in the past, espe- 
 cially when it has been an unhappy one." 
 
 "I can only forget it in music," sighed Virginia. 
 Then, looking up at him with bright interest, she added. 
 And you, I suppose, forget it in poetry." 
 I am not really a poet — Miss Beaufort." 
 
 It evidently cost the husband an effort to call his 
 wife by this name. General Hilton heard it through 
 the tinkling of " Annie Laurie," and looked around up- 
 on Underhill with a cautious but cheering smile. The 
 hero was clearly not attending to Lotharinga's melo- 
 dies. 
 
 " Mrs. Fitz James has spoken to me about your 
 verses," Virginia continued, timidly but eagerly. " She 
 tells me they are beautiful." 
 
 " Well, that is the name for them. They are verses, 
 and nothing more. They have measure and rhyme." 
 
 " I wish I could see them," returned the girl with a 
 longing intonation w^hich was really childlike. "You 
 are the only poet I know. Do you ever write about 
 the lost cause ? " 
 
 " Naturally — a little. It is not an alluring subject. 
 I prefer to turn away from it." 
 
 " I should think indignation and grief would bring 
 inspiration. Of course you are indignant and grieved." 
 
 " There is something potent in an accomplished fact. 
 When a thing is done — " 
 
 " Yes, I know it is done," interrupted Virginia with 
 something like vehemence. "We are crushed com- 
 pletely and for ever. I never quite realized it till I got 
 over here and looked at the whole ruin from a distance." 
 
 There was a brief pause in the dialogue. Meantime 
 the music continued to clatter from the other end of 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 231 
 
 the long room. The astute General, now in full pos- 
 session of his wits, would not suffer Mrs. Fitz James to 
 quit the piano, and kept begging for one and another 
 well-worn air. What the playing lacked in time and 
 tune it made up in duration and racket. Underhill 
 and his wife had been obliged to lean toward each 
 other to hear each other's words. The situation tended 
 to intimacy, and they were already on a friendly foot- 
 ing. 
 
 " Still, I should write about the lost cause, if I could 
 write," resumed Virginia. Then, with a smile which 
 was both an apology and a beseeching, she added, 
 " Will you show me something about our great strug- 
 gle ? " 
 
 " It will be much meaner than the struggle. But I 
 will venture to show you something." 
 
 Virginia's eyes sparkled with pleasure and with 
 longing. "Twant a great favor," she said. "I want 
 you to write a piece for rue. My professor shall set it 
 to music, and I will sing it." 
 
 " I shall be most happy," promised Underhill, his 
 face flushed with joy. " What shall it be ? Have you 
 any particular subject at heart ? " 
 
 Virginia's brow crisped slightly ; she was thinking 
 of her dearest brother. " Yes," she answered. " Pick- 
 ett's charge at Gettysburg." 
 
 "It was a superb feat of arms," said the ex-Colonel 
 of Union volunteers. " I saw it, though I didn't take 
 part in it. I can write about that." 
 
 " Oh, when ? " asked the eager rebel and fervid 
 adorer of poetry — " when shall I see it ? " 
 
 " As soon as I can do it. Verses come uncertainly 
 — at least to me." 
 
232 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 " Do they ? Why, of course they do. Inspiration 
 must." 
 
 " You will make a poet of me," he smiled. 
 
 " I must ! I do so want a poet — a great jjoet of the 
 Southland — to mourn for our overthrow, mourn suitably 
 for our dead. I want such a poet that the whole world 
 will turn and hear." 
 
 " Alas ! " 
 
 " Why do you say ' alas ' ? " 
 
 " You haven't found him." 
 
 "How do I know? I will see. Promise to bring 
 me the verses." 
 
 " Of course I promise it, and with a great deal of 
 pleasure. I will bring them to-morrow evening, with 
 your permission — that is, if I can finish them." 
 
 " I see that you are thinking of them now," said 
 Virginia, gazing at him with a kind of delighted awe, 
 which would have amused him under any other circum- 
 stances, but v/hich now gratified and fascinated him. 
 They were leaning toward each other and looking 
 steadily in each other's eyes, like two familiar and dear 
 friends, almost like two lovers. Indeed, his gaze be- 
 came so fervent that Virginia colored a little and pres- 
 ently drooped her lashes floorward. 
 
 At this moment Mrs. Fitz James stopped playing, 
 whirled about on the piano-stool, and faced them. 
 " There ! " she exclaimed, petulantly. " I have drummed 
 and thrummed enough — all I am going to. — What in 
 the world are you two talking about ? You look like a 
 couple of conspirators. — Colonel Peyton, I am sorry to 
 tear you away, but I must go. I have a horrid, hate- 
 ful headache. I didn't sleep two hours last night." 
 
 "Don't go," begged Virginia, as Lotharinga rose 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 233 
 
 and shook out her raiment. " You haven't been here 
 ten minutes. I haven't had a word with you." 
 
 " I've been here an hour, and I'm cross. We shall 
 have words if I stay any longer. Playing always does 
 infuriate my nerves." 
 
 "But you gratify our nerves, Mrs. Fitz James," 
 urged the General, who was most anxious to prolong 
 the interview between the two young mamed people. 
 
 "Yes, I soothe you to sleep, I suppose," snapped the 
 unhappy little lady, taking Underbill's arm. — " Come, 
 Colonel, say good-by. I know you are sorry, but I 
 can't help it. You can happen in some other time." 
 
 Underbill turned to his wife and shook hands with 
 her, saying in a tone which evidently surprised her, 
 " Good-by, Miss Beaufort." 
 
 Hedstone, who had financial business with his sister, 
 as we remember, followed the departing couple. The 
 General was left alone with Mrs. Dumont and Virginia. 
 There was that moment of prudent silence which fol- 
 lows the closing of a door on visitors. Then Under- 
 bill's accomplice glanced from face to face of the two 
 ladies, and smilingly inquired, " Well, how do you like 
 my friend Peyton ? " 
 
 " He is a noble specimen of a Virginian," declared 
 Mrs. Dumont. 
 
 " I like him very much," said Virginia. 
 
 "I knew you would," responded the General, his 
 smile nearly turning to a laugh. 
 
234 TEE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 DuKiNG the next day Yirginia received and declined 
 a pressing invitation from Mrs. Fitz James to attend 
 the Grand Opera. As evening drew near, she directed 
 Aunt Chloe to admit no visitors but General Hilton and 
 Colonel Peyton. When darkness fell, she seated herself 
 at a window looking out upon the street, and persisted 
 in reading there by the far-away gas-jet of the center- 
 table chandelier, glancing from time to time at the 
 dimly illuminated pavements below. At last, rising 
 with a hasty rustle, she said, in an elated voice, " He is 
 coming — I know his walk ! " 
 
 Mrs. Dumont looked up with an air of astonishment, 
 slightly mingled with uneasiness. Her niece familiar 
 already with the gait of this acquaintance of a day ! It 
 was almost unbecoming in a Beaufort ; it was almost 
 alarming in a married woman. Oh, if something would 
 happen — if there could be somehow a release from that 
 unfortunate marriage — if there could arrive some day a 
 worthy nephew- in-law, whether French noble or South- 
 ern gentleman ! But in the mean time all possible re- 
 serve and decorum must be observed by a lady of the 
 Beaufort race. Such were the natural and unavoidable 
 reflections of a well-descended and highly proper aunt. 
 
 "I shall be so disappointed if he hasn't brought 
 his poem ! " continued the frank and impulsive young 
 woman. " I hope he has brought some poem — don't 
 vou ? " 
 
 " My dear, you are addled about poetry," said Mrs. 
 Dumont. " Well, I suppose people are, at your age. I 
 remember reading ' Young's Night Thoughts ' over and 
 over, when I was a girl." 
 
TEE BLOODY CEASM. 235 
 
 In due time Underhill made his entrance, and was 
 welcomed by his wife as Colonel Peyton. "I am so 
 much obliged to you for not forgetting your promise," 
 she added. " I hope you remembered the whole of it." 
 
 She almost watched his pockets, like a child hoping 
 for a cake. If she looked him in the face, it was unob- 
 servantly. The eagerness was for the poem, rather than 
 for the poet. 
 
 "I have been lucky," he answered, smiling at her 
 interest — it was so naive, and yet so gratifying. *'I 
 had an inspiration, as you would call it." Then, as she 
 seated him in a chair by the lighted center-table, he 
 asked : " Are you going to set me at my task at once ? 
 I would rather hear you play and sing." 
 
 " I want the poem first," said Virginia, laughing and 
 blushing at her own tyranny, but meanwhile arranging 
 the gas-jets for him. " Af tei' that I will sing as long as 
 you wish." 
 
 " Please remember that I am not a poet — only a 
 versifier," begged Underhill. " Accept the modest 
 apology of a humble author," he added, looking in her 
 eyes with a smile. He seemed, by-the-way, to be quite 
 at ease with his wife. Ko doubt, he believed that he 
 had already made an agreeable impression. 
 
 " Go on ; we are waiting to hear," was Virginia's 
 only response. Then Underhill drew forth his sheet of 
 note-paper, and in a firm, manly voice read his ballad of 
 
 "Pickett's Charge. 
 
 " The war had robbed the cradle, 
 The war had robbed the grave, 
 And boys with ringlets golden 
 Bore bayonet and glaive, 
 
236 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 And grandsires flung their olden 
 
 Thin hair to battle's wave, 
 "When Pickett charged the folden 
 
 Pale mists where slaughters rave. 
 
 " He trode the smitten valley, 
 
 The mountain's hissing glade. 
 Right through the cannon-thunder, 
 
 Right through the fusillade, 
 Till rank tore rank asunder 
 
 With bayonet and blade — 
 Till Earth rose up in wonder 
 
 To see the death he made. 
 
 " Five thousand were his heroes, 
 
 Three thousand those who bled; 
 They marched without a shiver 
 
 To join the knightly dead ; 
 They crossed the ghostly river 
 
 With swift and steady tread ; 
 And fame shall shine for ever 
 
 Around that column's head. 
 
 *' The war had robbed the cradle, 
 
 The war had robbed the tomb. 
 And men whose hair was hoary 
 
 And youngsters in their bloom 
 Went shouting through the glory 
 
 Which folds where cannon boom, 
 When Pickett charged the gory 
 
 Sublimities of doom." 
 
 When Underhill looked up from his reading, Vir- 
 ginia's head was drooped and one of her hands was 
 over her face. When she spoke, it was simply to say in 
 a low, broken voice, " O Mr. Peyton ! " Then, with 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 237 
 
 a sobbing burst of " I can't help it ! " she rose and hast- 
 ened out of the room. 
 
 Mrs. Dumont glanced after her, wiped her own eyes 
 for a moment, and whispered, " She lost a brother there 
 — my youngest nephew." 
 
 " I never guessed that," murmured Underhill, in a 
 tone of compunction. " Pickett's men were Virginians." 
 
 " He was a staff-officer," the aunt sighed. " He 
 would join in the charge. A Beaufort must, you 
 know," 
 
 "It is very sad," replied the young man, looking 
 anxiously after his wife. 
 
 Just then she reappeared, advanced excitedly to the 
 table, picked up the slip of manuscript and kissed it. 
 " It is an epitaph," she said. " There will be more than 
 kisses on it ; there will be tears." Next, fixing her wet 
 eyes on him with an air of wonder, she asked, " Oh ! 
 how could you write it ? " 
 
 " As I told you, I saw the charge," replied Under- 
 bill, after a moment of hesitation. "It was a noble 
 feat of arms." 
 
 " Yes — oh, wasn't it ? " exclaimed Virginia, her eyes 
 flashing with something like exultation, notwithstand- 
 ing the tears in them. " ' And fame shall shine for ever 
 around that column's head ! ' " she repeated. " I do 
 thank you so earnestly. Colonel Peyton ! Your verses 
 will help it to shine there." 
 
 " No," he responded, shaking his head and smiling. 
 
 " They will,^'^ insisted the excited girl. " It is a 
 noble poem. I know it is. It touches my heart." 
 
 " You are to sing it for me, you know," he reminded 
 her. 
 
 " As soon as it is set to music, and I have learned 
 
238 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 it," she proiiiiscMl. '■'■ Oli, I shall sing it, and you shall 
 hoar nio ! I fool just now as though I never should 
 want to sing anything else." 
 
 It must have seemed to Underhill that he was mak- 
 ing a eoTU]uest of his wife. He looked so gratified and 
 also so faseinated that it is a wonder she did not suspect 
 his identity. Possihly she might have divined him, but 
 for a iixed belief that her Yankee husband was a dread- 
 ful creature who necessarily regarded her with ill-will, 
 and whom she would instinctively fly from at the first 
 glance. 
 
 "I should like to have you give me back that manu- 
 script, some day," he ventured to add. " You have 
 made it precious in my eyes. I never had such a trib- 
 ute before." 
 
 Apparently Virginia took some slight alarm from 
 the fervor of his manner. " 1 want to copy it first," she 
 replied simply, and immediately changed the subject. 
 " The whole war ought to be written over with song," 
 she declared. " Was there ever such aiuither theme for 
 verse? T should think it would inspire every poet of 
 the South to do wonders. Isn't it a glorious subject ? 
 Y"ou couldn't write in this way about Yankees ? " 
 
 Underhill pondered. Should he say Y^es, or No ? 
 Should he speak against Y^ankees, or for them ? These 
 questions and hesitations would naturally Hit through 
 the mind of a man in his position. 
 
 " I might," he at last replied ; and then came this 
 sharj) dialogue : 
 
 Mrginia. " AVhat ! About those cowards ? " 
 
 Underhill ((piietly). " AVere they cowards ? " 
 
 Mrs. Dumont. *' Certainly they were, and Vandals 
 to boot." 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM, 239 
 
 Underhill. " My dear madam, do think how impos- 
 sible that is. How could a land of brave men be over- 
 run by cowards ? " 
 
 Mrs. Dumont. " Well, I don't know, I'm sure ; un- 
 less there was some Yankee trickery about it." 
 
 Virginia. " Colonel Peyton, you astonish me. I 
 admit that what you say seems rational. But how can 
 a Southerner say it ? " 
 
 Underhill (smiling). " Why not ? Why shouldn't a 
 Southerner say something rational ? " 
 
 Virginia. " I don't know what to make of you— to 
 write so eloquently — and then joke ! " 
 
 Underhill (pensively). "I find that I can write with 
 sympathy on almost any subject, if I think of it long 
 enough." 
 
 Virginia (after a long gaze at him). " Oh, it must 
 be the impartiality of genius. I have read of that some- 
 where. Like Shakespeare and Homer. They write 
 kindly about both sides — heroes and villains — Greeks 
 and Trojans. It must be the impartiality of genius." 
 
 Underhill (amused). "Not in my case ; it can't be 
 that. [Seriously.] I suppose it is the impartiality of a 
 soldier. A soldier learns at last to worship valor, no 
 matter where found." 
 
 Again Virginia studied him with a perplexed gaze. 
 She evidently considered him a puzzle, and held that he 
 could not explain himself, or at least did not. At last 
 she recommenced her questioning. " But how can you 
 begin to think sympathetically of a hateful subject ? 
 Tell me. I am insatiably curious about poetry." 
 
 *' Oh, a line comes — I don't know how or why — and 
 then its fellow comes. Pretty soon the interest, the 
 sympathy, awakes. I take another man's place and 
 
24:0 THE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 divine his feelings. After a while I am eager to finish 
 the work ; I can't let it alone till it is done." 
 
 '' Ah, dear ! I wish I could do it," she sighed. " Poe- 
 try is my adoration and my wonder. But you ought 
 not to degrade it," she added, with a vehement shake of 
 the head. " If ever you do write a nice poem about our 
 enemies, I don't want you to show it to me." 
 
 Underhill waited a moment, as an archer waits for a 
 gust to pass before he shoots, and then asked, " Hadn't 
 I better show you just one — merely as a curiosity ? " 
 
 Virginia fell back in her chair and reflected, before 
 she answered. " Well, perhaps — when I am more pre- 
 pared to bear it — just one," she finally said. *' It icould 
 be a curiosity." 
 
 Underhill watched her with a tranquil expression of 
 grave interest. He had by this time got used to his 
 situation, and was able to study her calmly and intelli- 
 gently. Presently he ventured to put her a personal 
 question : " What do you mean by saying that you 
 may be more prepared to bear it ? Are time and dis- 
 tance telling on the old feelings ? " 
 
 " Yes," burst out Virginia, almost angrily. " Isn't 
 it horrible ? It is like forgetting the dead ; it is for- 
 getting them." 
 
 " It may be best," he replied, gently. " Probably 
 it is best to remember chiefly living facts and living 
 men." 
 
 "How can it be best when it is shameful?" de- 
 manded the passionate child of the South. " It is shock- 
 ing to think of forgetting my State — its heroic ideas 
 and sorrowful failure — its thousands of martyrs to lib- 
 erty, and its innumerable mourners. What a disgrace 
 and wickedness to let all that fade out of one's mind ! 
 
TEE BLOODY CEASM. 241 
 
 And yet, distance does fade it, and the splendor of Eu- 
 rope helps, and the lapse of time also. It is unpardon- 
 able, and still I can't help it." 
 
 There was more of this fervid reminiscence and self- 
 condemnatory confession. There was an eager talk 
 about the war, and about the growing torpor of mem- 
 ory concerning it, all considerably cheering to Under- 
 bill. At last he remembered that he had made a loner 
 call, and with extreme unwillingness he rose to depart. 
 
 " What, so quick ! " exclaimed the frank young wom- 
 an. " I had a dozen questions to ask you. You must 
 call again before long, to answer them." 
 
 Then, as soon as he was out of hearing, she snatched 
 up his verses and declaimed passionately : 
 
 " They marched without a shiver 
 
 To join the knightly dead ; 
 They crossed the ghostly river 
 
 With swift and steady tread ; 
 And fame shall shine for ever 
 
 Around that column's head I " 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 During the next week the Colonel was two or three 
 times at his wife's apartments. He called, on various 
 pretexts — once to leave somebody's poems, once to ask 
 whether De Bethune had yet found an air for his bal- 
 lad, and once to bring a bouquet. No account will be 
 given of these agreeable but indecisive interviews, f ur- 
 11 
 
242 THE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 ther than to say that he succeeded in making himself a 
 most welcome visitor. 
 
 Meantime the pretty Baltimore lady was a real per- 
 plexity to him. At no time of day and in no part of 
 the Hotel du Louvre was he comfortably sure that he 
 would not either meet her or get a billet from her. Of 
 course, he had pungent reasons for desiring that be- 
 tween her and him there should be nothing more than 
 civil acquaintance. In the first place, it troubled his 
 now sensitive conscience to remember that he, a mar- 
 ried man, was passing himself off upon her as a bache- 
 lor. Furthermore, there was danger that the least show 
 of intimacy would be reported to Virginia as court- 
 ship, and would lead her to regard him as a serious suitor 
 of Mrs. Fitz James, or as a flirt. Finally, he was in the 
 state of mind of an ingenuous boy who is in love ; he did 
 not want to be liked by anybody but the right person ; 
 he positively hated to be liked by the wrong person. 
 
 The result was, that he carefully dodged the good- 
 will which followed him. One day in particular, when 
 he had received an invitation from Virginia to call in the 
 evening, he kept out of the hotel from morn till dewy 
 eve, and later. He made a tour of the sights and won- 
 ders of Paris. He took his noonday meal in a retired 
 restaurant of the Latin quarter. At last he chanced 
 into the Luxembourg, and there stumbled upon the co- 
 lossal apparition of General Hilton, posted between Miil- 
 ler's " Calling of the Condemned " and Couture's " De- 
 cadence of the Romans," and surveying them alternately 
 with an air of noble indignation. The high-minded 
 hero, it must be understood, was as yet inclined to judge 
 a picture by its subject rather than by that merely ad- 
 ventitious circumstance, the handling of the artist. 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 213 
 
 Underbill briefly narrated tbe substance of bis latest 
 interview witb bis wife. Tbe General rejoiced, uttered 
 favorable auguries, and tben broke into wonder. " My 
 dear fellow, I don't see bow you can do it — bow you 
 can face ber," be said. " Merely to bear about it turns 
 my brain. Tbe evening we were tbere togetber gave 
 me tbe nigbtmare. Well, some men bave all kinds of 
 courage. I believe you would bave made a great gen- 
 eral — you bave tbe coolness and tbe stratagems." 
 
 " I bave tbe courage of desperation," returned Un- 
 derbill. " Tbere is notbing to be done but wbat I am 
 doing." 
 
 " Alas ! no — but tbe end justifies you," declared Hil- 
 ton, wbo was still troubled by tbe deception involved in 
 tbe means. 
 
 Tben tbe coloring of tbe " Decadence " caugbt bis eye 
 once more, and drew from bim a discourse wbicb would 
 bave astonisbed Monsieur Couture. " I can't belp tbink- 
 ing, sir, tbat tbe age of art is an age of corruption," be 
 said, witb noble severity. " Tbere was no art in Sparta, 
 sir ; none in Rome during ber grandest days ; none in 
 tbe forest cantons of Switzerland. I tbank Heaven, sir, 
 tbat we bave none in Soutb Carolina ! " 
 
 " You needn't fear any, for some time to come," re- 
 turned Underbill. " Art doesn't spring up in tbinly set- 
 tled agricultural districts. It needs cities." 
 
 " Just look at tbat picture — tbe * Decline of tbe Ro- 
 mans,' " continued tbe General witb increasing vebe- 
 mence. " Do you call tbat civilizing and refining and 
 purifying ? It is a spectacle of crapulence and inde- 
 cency. And bere is tbis otber — tbis ' Calling of tbe Con- 
 demned ' — tbe triumpb of tbe plebeian over tbe patrician 
 — of brutisbness over refinement ! Tbey are botb, to 
 
244 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 my eye, abominable paintings. Why do artists select 
 such subjects ? Here is an orgy of drunkenness, faced 
 by an orgy of cruelty." 
 
 The younger but more experienced critic of art turned 
 from canvas to canvas. " Excuse me for suggesting 
 that you have missed the lesson of the pictures," he said. 
 " The one is a protest against unbridled Csesarism, and 
 the other a protest against unbridled democracy. I pre- 
 sume that they were placed ojDposite each other by de- 
 sign. It is as much as to say, ' That leads to this, and 
 this leads to that.' " 
 
 The General seemed much struck by the commen- 
 tary ; he stared backward and forward with great inter- 
 est. " I think you are right. Colonel," he conceded at 
 last. *' There is a moral there, and a tremendous one. 
 By Jove ! it takes practice to really see a picture, as 
 well as to run a plantation, or shoot wild-turkeys." 
 
 The dialogue lingered for some minutes around the 
 subject of art. A rosy and pursy little Englishman, ap- 
 parently of the London shopkeeper breed, who had 
 heard the two men call each other General and Colonel, 
 sidled somewhat nearer to them and listened with fur- 
 tive respect, as if sure that the opinions of persons of 
 such rank must be well worth attention. His wife, a 
 lady of remarkable presence in the way of breadth, fol- 
 lowed his movement with the ponderous deliberation of 
 a merchantman drawn by a tug-boat, and turned her 
 moist blue eyes with something like awe upon the lofty 
 figure and haggard features of Hilton. Three cherry- 
 cheeked daughters, obedient perhaps to some parental 
 signal, took out note-books and began writing or sketch- 
 ing. Presently the General became awai;e of the prox- 
 imity of this group, without in the least suspecting its 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 245 
 
 simple interest and reverence. He made a gesture of 
 apology, and drew Underbill to one side. 
 
 " We were in the way of those ladies," he whispered. 
 Little did he guess that he had deprived those ladies of 
 an unusual treat, and that his massive aquiline profile al- 
 ready adorned one of those note-books, labeled in fine, 
 sharp letters, " TJie General 
 
 They had scarcely quitted their reverent audience 
 when TJnderhill made a hasty right-about, muttering, 
 
 *' Good Heavens ! " 
 
 Hilton looked over the young man's shoulder, and 
 discerned, amid the groups of picture-gazers, Mrs. Fitz 
 
 James. 
 
 "What!" he whispered. '-'Are you dodging our 
 little friend ? I wonder which of us she is pointing 
 for? She has been very pleasant to me of late." 
 
 " I suppose she is pleasant to everybody," said Un- 
 derbill. " Is she coming ? " 
 
 " Yes, she is coming. Colonel ; we'll make an excen- 
 tric retreat. We'll divide our columns and skedaddle 
 in different directions. One of us will escape." 
 
 So far as concerned Hilton, it was easy enough to 
 put this strategic joke into successful operation. It 
 was Underbill whom Mrs. Fitz James wanted, and she 
 overtook him in the most adroit manner, almost without 
 seeming to mean it. It will be understood, of course, 
 that he conducted his flight without much skill or 
 vigor. I suspect that all men are ashamed to run away 
 from a woman, and do it feebly. 
 
 " So glad to meet you ! " smiled Lotharinga, either 
 not noting the attempt to escape, or choosing to ignore 
 it. " How lucky ! Did you know that I was coming 
 here ? Po say so. I'll try to believe it. Won't you 
 
246 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 join us? My escort is a nonentity — just an Italian 
 count whom I sometimes walk with, when I have no- 
 body better." 
 
 She turned toward her cavalier, and gave him a 
 fluttering smile and sparkling of the eyes, as though 
 he were the dearest object in life to her. He was 
 the usual Italian, somewhat low in stature, with a 
 pallid, olive complexion and dreamy black eyes. He 
 had halted discreetly some ten steps away, and it 
 might be guessed that he had been instructed so 
 to do. 
 
 " I should be most happy," said Underbill. " But 
 your escort has his claims. He looks very love-lorn, and 
 he will think me an intruder." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " urged Lotharinga. " He isn't a bit 
 love-lorn. Besides, Count Minuzio is a perfectly broken 
 cavaliere servente, as all Italians are. Do let me intro- 
 duce him. He speaks French perfectly." 
 
 " But I don't," returned the Colonel, glad of it for 
 once. " I shall simply be a nuisance to him and a load 
 to you. Let me make a call, instead." 
 
 " But you don't call ; you never call — not even when 
 you promise. You are the most unsocial man — a per- 
 fect hermit and anchorite." 
 
 " I'll change — I'll take to society again." 
 
 " Well, if you won't come, you must go," fretted the 
 lady. "I almost hate you for it. No, I don't," she 
 smiled. " Do call oftener." 
 
 Underbill slipped away from a woman who wanted 
 to see him, only to stumble upon one who would have 
 been most happy to avoid him. He had scarcely taken 
 five steps among the knots of picture-gazers, and he was 
 still within range of Lotharinga's bright and eager eyes, 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 247 
 
 when he came face to face with Norah Macmorran. It 
 is almost needless to state that both of them looked as 
 if they would like to run away. The gentleman was 
 the first to recover himself ; he bowed with a respect 
 which was very near to humility. 
 
 " Miss Macmorran, excuse me," he murmured. " I 
 had no intention of seeking an interview. But, now 
 that we have met, may I have one w^ord ? " 
 
 ISTorah stood, pale and still, like a marble statue of a 
 saint, her hands folded across each other, her head in- 
 clined slightly, and her eyes upon the floor. "If you 
 wish it, sir," was her only response, uttered in a voice 
 which was little more than a whisper. 
 
 " I want a favor of you," he begged, remembering 
 the proximity of Mrs. Fitz James. " Will you do me 
 the kindness not to utter or reveal my name ? " 
 
 "I should not have spoken it, sir," gasped Norah. 
 *' General Hilton told me what you wished." 
 
 He might have gone now ; he might have felt sure 
 of her fidelity ; but he was still a little anxious. Strange 
 to say, yet naturally enough, he was anxious not only 
 for her secrecy, but also for her esteem. 
 
 "You don't condemn me for using a disguise, I 
 hope," he continued. " You know the whole unhappy 
 
 story, don't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir. Mrs. Dumont told me about the old bad 
 feeling. General Hilton told me the rest." 
 
 "And that I want to wan my wife? Did he tell 
 
 you that ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir," whispered Norah. " I was so glad to 
 hear of it ! " she added, with an heroic effort. " I have 
 prayed for your success, sir." 
 
 Underbill had the air of being completely humili- 
 
218 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 ated. " You noble young lady ! " he murmured. " I 
 wish I could fall down and worship you." 
 
 " Oh, no, sir ! " softly protested Norah. 
 
 There were tears in the young man's eyes at this 
 moment. Neither of them could look the other in the 
 face. 
 
 *' Well, I thank you profoundly ! " he said at last. 
 "Is there nothing that I can do for you? Can I do 
 anything f " 
 
 " No, sir," returned Norah. " I am supported here 
 by St. Patrick's Church," she added, as if to make sure 
 he should understand that she needed no money. "I 
 want nothing." 
 
 Of course, he did not tell her that it was he who had 
 furnished the funds for her education. He was ponder- 
 ing how he could render her some present service or 
 courtesy. 
 
 "You have not lost your way?" he asked. "You 
 don't need a guide?" 
 
 " No, sir," she replied, with a faint smile of thanks. 
 "A gentleman is with me," she immediately explained, 
 coloring slightly. " It is Mr. De Bethune, my instruc- 
 tor in music. He just went for a catalogue. I am so 
 curious about the pictures ! " 
 
 " Oh !" responded Underbill, apparently well pleased, 
 and glancing at her with a slight air of investigation. 
 " I am glad you have such good company." 
 
 " He is very good, I think," murmured Norah, now 
 blushing noticeably. " And very kind to me." 
 
 At this moment. Underbill discovered the Professor 
 approaching from the other end of the saloon. He 
 made him an amicable gesture, bowed respectfully to 
 Norah, and turned away. 
 
THE BL OD Y CHASM. 249 
 
 During the latter part of this dialogue, he had not 
 thought of Mrs. Fitz James. But that eager-minded 
 little lady had not forgotten him, nor failed to follow 
 him with furtive and watchful eyes. She now left the 
 tranquil Count Minuzio once more, and slid across the 
 hall to Norah and De Bethune. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Mrs. Fitz James opened the interview with a genial 
 twitter of " How do. Miss Macmorran ? So glad to meet 
 you here ! " Then, turning gayly to De Bethune, " JBon 
 jour, 7non cher seigneur. You know Count Minuzio, 
 don't you ? Do run over and entertain him a minute. 
 I find him an awful load, and I want to talk to Miss 
 Macmorran." 
 
 De Bethune bowed in his urbane fashion, and went 
 to hold discourse with the urbane Italian. 
 
 " Really, Miss Macmorran, you are much to be en- 
 vied," continued Mrs. Fitz in a tone of banter which 
 was meant to be insinuating, but which revealed a spice 
 of petulance. " You have the most elegant men about 
 you — Mr. De Bethune for an escort to the galleries, and 
 Colonel Peyton catching the first opportunity." 
 
 Xorah looked a good deal confused, and no wonder. 
 She knew the Baltimore lady but slightly, and was as- 
 tonished at being addressed by her. Moreover, Mrs. 
 Fitz James's manner, which was that of a superior to an 
 inferior, or a grown person to a child, tended to abash 
 her. Finally, it was embarrassing, or rather it was ex- 
 tremely painful, to be spoken to of Underbill. 
 
250 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 " Oh, you quite mistake," she stammered. " I met 
 Mr. — I met the other gentleman by accident." 
 
 " What did you say ? " asked Lotharinga, quickly. 
 "I didn't quite understand." 
 
 *' I said that I met Colonel Peyton by accident," re- 
 turned the girl, speaking more firmly, but regarding the 
 floor. 
 
 " I thought you began to say something else," per- 
 sisted Lotharinga, watching her sharply. The hoyden- 
 ish, audacious coquette was evidently puzzled by those 
 downcast eyes and that meek face. It is likely enough 
 that she understood them as signs of a guilty conscience. 
 
 *' I am so glad you know Colonel Peyton," she re- 
 sumed, after a little pondering. " He is perfectly charm- 
 ing. Isn't he ? " 
 
 " I think he is good and noble-hearted," answered 
 Norah, looking up with a serious countenance. It was 
 clear enough from her manner that that was what she 
 indeed thought of the man. 
 
 " Dear me ! " laughed Mrs. Fitz. " How we women 
 do know all about the men's heai'ts ! " 
 
 The clever comment and the keen gaze which ac- 
 companied it forced a slight blush into Norah's pale 
 cheek. " I have heard," she stammered, " that he gives 
 a great deal to the poor." 
 
 She had heard it, no doubt ; but, nevertheless, the 
 speech was an evasion, and she looked uncomfortably 
 conscious. 
 
 Mrs. Fitz James noted the expression, and was not 
 deceived by the explanation. "I didn't suspect that 
 you knew him," she continued. " I see the Colonel fre- 
 quently, and he has never mentioned you. Let me tell 
 you — of course you know it as well as I do — that you 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 251 
 
 are fortunate in the acquaintance. lie is perfectly de- 
 lightful. Do you see him often here ? " 
 
 " Here ! " repeated the questioned girl, coloring pro- 
 fusely. It was a charge, as she comprehended it, that 
 she made appointments to meet Underhill at the Lux- 
 embourg. " I never met him before in Paris," she an- 
 swered energetically and incautiously. 
 
 " Oh ! then you knew him in America," inferred 
 Lotharinga, with the alert air of a coquette who scents 
 a love-affair. *' In Richmond, I suppose," she went on, 
 too eager to wait for replies. " So you knew him in 
 Richmond ? He is very fond of music, isn't he ? " 
 
 She paused upon this last question, and surveyed 
 Norah with a significant smile. 
 
 " I believe he is," said I^^orah, and then added quick- 
 ly, " I know he is." 
 
 " Yes, and your voice and execution must be such a 
 treat to him ! " insinuated Mrs. Fitz, beginning to show 
 in her face more of the serpent than of the dove. " I 
 really envy you. Of course, you couldn't refuse to sing 
 for such an attractive gentleman as Colonel Peyton." 
 
 " I never sang for him in particular," was the stam- 
 mering but honest response. " He never heard me but 
 in the church and at concerts." 
 
 Mrs. Fitz James was not to be beaten by any such 
 trickery as the simple truth. '^I think it is dreadful," 
 she giggled. " You are just like all these artists. I do 
 think it is dreadful behavior. How in the world, when 
 such a charming man calls on you, can you refuse to 
 sing for him ? " 
 
 " He never did call on me, Mrs. Fitz James." Norah 
 said this with just a little touch of pugnacity in her 
 tone ; it was worrying to be so cross-questioned, and 
 
252 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 irritating to be an object of suspicion. Then, all of a 
 sudden, she recollected the duty of meekness, and her 
 eyes dropped floorward. There was an expression in her 
 face as of beseeching pardon, and possibly she was pray- 
 ing for a higher forgiveness than that of Mrs. Fitz James. 
 
 Lotharinga fell back a little, like a serpent which 
 has struck its blow, and struck in vain. She studied 
 the chastened countenance and gently bowed figure of 
 the pure-minded child of poverty with an almost comi- 
 cal air of frustration and annoyance. She clearly did 
 not know whether to regard her as a stupid thing, or as 
 an artful baggage. 
 
 " You astonish me," she said at lasf, with a little tit- 
 ter of perplexity. " Why, there is some mystery about 
 it ; it is perfectly romantic and delightful," she added, 
 falling into the commonplaces of banter. Then, turn- 
 ing serious and inquisitive again, " Why shouldn't he 
 call, and why shouldn't you see him ? " 
 
 " He is a very rich gentleman, and I am a poor girl," 
 returned Norah, simply and gravely. " It is not proper 
 to have such calls." 
 
 For a moment, at least, Mrs. Fitz James believed in 
 the girl's sincerity. But she was not touched — as even 
 some very coarse kinds of manhood might have been — 
 by a revelation of lowly-born humility and maidenly 
 timidity. She merely stared at it, as though she had 
 never inspected nor divined the like before, and found 
 it a very amazing and irrational spectacle. On second 
 thoughts, too, she burst out laughing at it. 
 
 " What ideas for Paris ! " she giggled. " Don't let 
 people hear you. They'll think you are silly." 
 
 "If any people think so for that reason, their 
 thoughts are of no value to me," replied Norah. 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 253 
 
 Mrs. Fitz had a look of querying, " I wonder if she 
 is good ? " Then came another expression which signi- 
 fied, " What nonsense ! " . . . " But you know Colonel 
 Peyton," she said aloud, resuming her catechism. " You 
 must have met him somewhere to speak with him. Oh, 
 I can guess ; he waited on you to the concerts, or home 
 from church ? " 
 
 She tried to win a confession by a genial smile ; but, 
 of course, there was no confession to be made. Norah 
 simply shook her head, and responded, "No, Mrs. Fitz 
 James, he never did." 
 
 " Then how could you get acquainted with him ? " 
 Lotharinga exclaimed. " Were you born acquainted ? " 
 
 The joke threw the Irish girl off her guard ; she 
 smiled and replied, " The chorister introduced us." 
 
 " Oh, the chorister ! Then he used to come into the 
 choir to hear you practice ? Dear me, how enchanted 
 he must have been ! No wonder. Your singing is 
 perfectly ravishing ; it's enough to turn any man's 
 head." 
 
 Norah's face became grave again. She was obvi- 
 ously very anxious to escape from her worrying and 
 little less than defamatory inquisitor. She glanced 
 across the hall at De Bethune, as if with the purpose of 
 summoning him ; but the Professor was talking ear- 
 nestly with the Count, apparently about Couture's one 
 masterpiece, and did not happen to look her way. 
 
 " Oh, leave them alone — they are contented enough," 
 said Mrs. Fitz, who had noted the glance. "And so 
 it was the chorister who introduced you ? I suppose 
 the Colonel asked for the favor. Didn't he ? " 
 
 " I don't know — I suppose so," stammered Norah. 
 
 " O Miss Macmorran ! — O Miss Macmorran ! vou 
 
254 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 know it perfectly," giggled Lotharinga. " I can see it 
 in your face. You blush killingly." 
 
 At last tlie Celtic blood of the pestered girl rose in 
 revolt and resistance. " Mrs. Fitz James, I do7i't know- 
 it," she said, firmly. " I would have been ashamed to 
 ask. And I don't think you have a right to question 
 me so much." 
 
 Lotharinga looked dismayed, and then resentful. 
 " Oh, well — if it is a matter of feeling to you — as I sup- 
 pose it is," she sneered. " Of course, I shall be silent on 
 the subject, if you prefer it." After hesitating a mo- 
 ment, she added with increased sharpness : "But I can 
 do you a favor. Miss Macmorran. I can give you some 
 information — very important information, perhaps — that 
 is, to you. There is an affair with another lady." 
 
 " Another lady ! " replied Norah, still on the de- 
 fensive, and indignant thereat. " How, then, can it con- 
 cern me ? " 
 
 Lotharinga should have seen that her thrust had not 
 taken effect ; but she pushed on headlong, like a fencer 
 who has lost his balance. "He is devoted to Miss 
 Beaufort," she whispered, her lips quivering with no 
 enviable emotion. " He is bewitched with Miss Beau- 
 fort." 
 
 Norah was at that moment nodding to De Bethune 
 by way of recalling him to her. Next she astonished 
 and routed Mrs. Fitz James by facing her with a smile 
 and saying placidly — " I don't wonder. Miss Beaufort 
 is very lovely." 
 
 "Good-morning, Miss Macmorran," snapped the 
 widow, turning her back rudely. — " Oh, you've got tired 
 of the Count," she added, addressing the Professor. 
 " So have L I'm tired of everything. Good-by." 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 255 
 
 Before she had taken three steps, however, she 
 looked around with a coaxing smile — as if suddenly re- 
 membering to flirt, even in her bitterness — and called to 
 him : " Come and see me, 7no7i tres cher seigneur. Au 
 revoir.'^'' 
 
 De Bethune acknowledged the invitation by a gest- 
 ure of thanks. But in the next instant he turned to 
 his companion and said in his sweetest tone, " We have 
 lost a great deal of time. Miss Macmorran." 
 
 It was evident that she understood a compliment, 
 for she gave him a shy glance of comprehension and 
 gratitude. Then taking the catalogue, and quickly 
 averting her face from the nudities of Couture, she 
 began to study with awe-struck eyes " The Calling of 
 the Condemned," while De Bethune poured into her 
 ear a murmurous commentary, the very tone of which 
 — no matter what the words were — showed respect and 
 liking. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 From the Luxembourg Underbill and Hilton went 
 to see the tomb of Napoleon, where they had much in- 
 teresting conversation with the wizened veteran of Wa- 
 terloo who served as their guide, and were treated by 
 him wdth immense respect in consideration of their 
 
 titles. 
 
 About five they dined at the General's favorite fifty- 
 cent restaurant in the Palais Rftyal, while a military 
 band poured forth alternate marches and waltzes in the 
 square below their window, and a hundred or two of 
 
256 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 cheerful convives rattled knives and forks in unison. 
 Next came an hour over a cup of black coffee in the 
 Cafe du Pavilion, meantime studying the never-ceasing 
 flow of promenaders, and interchanging the usual com- 
 ments of the tourist. The General still retained the 
 naivete of the citizen of a small place who visits a large 
 one. He was amazed at the metropolitan abundance of 
 humanity, and seemed to regard it as a portent of com- 
 ing desolation. He surveyed with horror a blonde ad- 
 venturess who had arrived from Russia to barter her 
 charms in Paris for English gold, and remarked sol- 
 emnly, *' This is a wicked city." When Underhill asked 
 him if he would have cognac in his cafe noir, he replied 
 firmly : " ISTo. It improves it. It makes it taste more 
 like coffee. But I won't have it. This people needs an 
 example of self-restraint." A little later, glancing at an 
 American who was mixing Sauterne and seltzer-water, 
 he exclaimed, " Good heavens, how the French are 
 given over to luxury ! " Two young Wallachians, who 
 were somewhat flown with wine, impressed him with a 
 belief that Parisians drank too hard. In short, the 
 General saw that France was corrupt, and sorrowfully 
 predicted the fall of the empire. 
 
 At last Underhill rose and said with a cheerful 
 smile, " I must go and dress to call on my wife." 
 
 "Ah ! " laughed Hilton. "Put on your very pretti- 
 est. By-the-way, I am to be there this evening ; there 
 is some treat for me, I understand. But I'll drop in a 
 little late ; I'll leave you the field for a time. Be care- 
 ful about Mrs. Fitz James, and don't bring her along if 
 you can help it." • 
 
 An hour later Underhill was in his wife's parlor. 
 He found her radiant with beauty and content, and 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 257 
 
 ventured to allude to the fact in a complimentary 
 way. 
 
 "Yes, Virginia seems very happy to-night," said 
 Mrs. Dumont, glancing at her niece with pride. 
 
 "So I am," returned the young lady. *^ Colonel 
 Peyton, my music-teacher has just suited me with an 
 air for your poem. I am going to sing it to you this 
 evening. Oh ! he has just suited me," she repeated, joy- 
 ously. " It is very simple — no warbling and ornament 
 — a few notes like a trumpet — just what I wanted. I 
 told him it must be simple, and he has made it so. It 
 is hardly more than passionate declamation. But it be- 
 longs to the words. I know you will like it." 
 
 " Of course, I shall like my own verses, sung by 
 you," he replied. 
 
 Mrs. Dumont gave him a glance of investigation, as 
 if she thought his tone or manner a trifle too enthusi- 
 astic, considering that her niece was a married woman 
 in disguise. 
 
 " Anybody would like them, whether sung or said," 
 declared Virginia, whereupon the gaze of the elder lady 
 was turned upon her with even more anxious inspec- 
 tion. 
 
 Presently Underbill inquired with natural impa- 
 tience why he was kept waiting for the song. 
 
 " I want General Hilton," explained Virginia. " I 
 sent him a note telling him that I had a treat for him 
 this evening. I want to surprise him. He doesn't 
 know what it is. He will be delighted. I think I shall 
 make him cry — that is, you and I will." 
 
 " Virginia, how you prattle ! " sighed Mrs. Dumont. 
 
 " I am out of my head with my song," the girl rat- 
 tled on. " I am as happy as a child over it. Music and 
 
258 TEE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 poetry have that effect on me. I forget everything else. 
 Oh, it is a lovely song, Colonel Peyton, though I say it. 
 I think you will be proud of your verses when you hear 
 them to this air." 
 
 " I am proud and gratified already," said Underhill, 
 his face flushed with gladness and his eyes bright with 
 adoration. 
 
 After a time the deliberate tramp of the General's 
 ligneous march was heard in the hall. " There is my 
 old hero," exclaimed Virginia, springing to open the 
 door for him. — "Come in, bravest of the brave." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " laughed Hilton, shaking hands all 
 round, as his custom was. "Well, here we are," he 
 added, dropping into a seat. " Now, what is it ? " 
 
 " General, it is a song," smiled the elated cantatrice, 
 who was already at her piano. " It is ' Pickett's Charge,' 
 written by Colonel Peyton. I want you to hear every 
 word. Don't mind the music. Listen to the words." 
 
 " Ah ! one of yours, Colonel ? " bowed Hilton. " I 
 shall stand at attention." 
 
 Then Virginia struck the first notes of a simple, mas- 
 culine, clarion-like air, and threw the whole fervor of 
 her powerful soprano into — 
 
 " The war had robbed the cradle, 
 
 The war had robbed the grave," etc. 
 
 When she ended, the tears were in her eyes and 
 Mrs. Dumont was sobbing like a child, while the wood- 
 en-legged Confederate General and the Yankee Colonel 
 in his disguise of gray were hiding their faces. It was 
 half a minute — it seemed to be several minutes — before 
 any one spoke. Then Underhill murmured, " I am cry- 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 259 
 
 ing over my own verses — well, they are poor enough 
 for it." 
 
 The General turned his moist eyes upon him, and 
 took him gravely by the hand. " Poor ! " he said. 
 " Colonel, I don't know whether you are a poet or not ; 
 but what you write breaks my heart. Ah, those sub- 
 lime regiments ! How grandly they went to destruc- 
 tion ! " 
 
 " Yes, grandly ! sublimely ! " echoed Virginia, and 
 then impetuously declaimed the lines : 
 
 "They marched without a shiver 
 To join the knightly dead; 
 They crossed the ghostly river 
 With swift and steady tread ; 
 And fame shall shine for ever 
 Around that column's head." 
 
 " Yes, for ever ! " said the General, solemnly. " It 
 will never be forgotten — that column." 
 
 " To join the knightly dead," repeated Virginia. 
 " Oh, how could you find those words, Mr. Peyton ? " 
 
 " What other words could he find ? " demanded the 
 General. " They are just the words. Knightly men, 
 every one of them — and they joined the knightly souls 
 of old — all the brave who have died gloriously. Colo- 
 nel, I sometimes wish I had fallen on that battle-field. 
 It would have been a great honor." 
 
 " Ah ! there were enough without you," sighed Vir- 
 ginia. ^'I can't spare another friend, not even in 
 thought." 
 
 So the impassioned Southern talk went on for many 
 minutes. Underbill found it difficult to bear any part 
 in it, and naturally said little. But he was obviously 
 
260 TEE BLOODY CEASM, 
 
 not embarrassed, and far indeed from unhappy. His 
 eyes were fixed nearly all the time on Virginia with an 
 expression of fervent admiration, mingled with pensive 
 study. If she looked at him, he smiled gently and 
 dropped his gaze, but soon raised it again to her face. 
 He was not only fascinated by his wife ; he was desper- 
 ately in love with her. 
 
 " Well, that will do for a Confederate palaver," said 
 the General at last, glancing at Underhill as if he re- 
 membered all of a sudden his Yankeehood. " I don't 
 want to spend an entire evening in lamenting the lost 
 cause." 
 
 " We shall have to stop it soon, anyway," answered 
 Mrs. Dumont. " Mrs. Fitz James is coming at nine ; 
 and she is so light-headed ! One doesn't like to speak 
 with her on a really great subject." 
 
 " Little Mrs. Fitz James coming ? " asked Hilton in 
 mild dismay. 
 
 " So she wrote me this morning," stated Virginia. 
 " She made the appointment. I couldn't help it." 
 
 " Colonel, we must skedaddle again," said the elder 
 gentleman. " Suppose we jumjD out of the win- 
 dow ? " 
 
 " What, and leave us ! " protested Virginia, looking 
 imploringly at her poet. "Don't run away from my 
 poor little friend. What if she does rattle ? You can 
 take turns in listening to her. The disengaged one can 
 talk to me." 
 
 Underhill obviously longed to remain ; he was gaz- 
 ing raptly at his lovely wife. ]Mrs. Dumont glanced at 
 him, glanced at the eager face of her niece, and became 
 very grave. 
 
 " If the gentlemen don't like Mrs. Fitz James," she 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 2G1 
 
 said — " and I really can't wonder they don't — I am sure 
 they have the right to avoid her." 
 
 Thereupon the General told the tale of the attempted 
 flight in the Luxembourg. " We made an excentric re- 
 treat," he said ; " we broke for the rear in twenty di- 
 rections. I thought she was after me. But it turned 
 out that the Colonel was her objective point." 
 
 Virginia uttered a little forced laugh, and glanced 
 uneasily at Underhill. "And you, Mr. Peyton," she 
 asked — " you surrendered, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Yes," he replied. " But I broke my parole, and 
 here I am, instead of there." 
 
 The young lady could not help looking a trifle 
 elated by this triumph over a rival who was at least 
 pretty and lively, and whom she in her inexperience 
 regarded as a woman of the world and a leader in so- 
 ciety. Her laughter burst out again, this time in a 
 perfectly natural argentine tinkle, significant of pure 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Mrs. Dumont's countenance became more and more 
 solemn. As we have heretofore been forced to ac- 
 knowledge, she was a woman of but moderate intellect- 
 ual parts, capable of occasionally acting with unwis- 
 dom, and liable to talk flat nonsense ; but the grave 
 and prim manner in which she had been reared, and 
 her high ideas as to what was becoming in a lady of 
 the Beaufort blood, put her on the plane of a judgmati- 
 cal person in matters of decorum. She could see that 
 her niece and this troubadour visitor were getting in- 
 terested in each other, and she knew that it was not 
 best that the feeling should be fostered by opportunity. 
 Her conclusion was that, under the circumstances, he 
 had staid long enough. 
 
262 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 " Ought you not to consider Mrs. Fitz James ? " she 
 suggested. " If she expected you at her rooms, and 
 then finds you here, she will be hurt." 
 
 The General, who knew the wisdom of bending 
 before the senior womanhood of a household, rose at 
 once. " We must bolt," he declared. " I prefer the 
 Funambules to Mrs. Fitz." 
 
 Virginia made no further objection ; on the con- 
 trary, she laughed assent. " Here is the window," she 
 giggled. " Wouldn't Lotharinga be furious to see you 
 jumping out of it, and running for an omnibus ? I 
 shaVt tell her that you have been here." 
 
 " Farewell ! " said the General in a melodramatic 
 voice, striding to the door with an imitation of the gait 
 of a stage conspirator. Underbill nodded gayly to the 
 ladies, and followed in the same manner. The last 
 sound he heard was the merry laughter of his wife, ap- 
 parently well contented with his flight from the coquet- 
 tish widow. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 Mrs. Dumont could not help laughing over the 
 mock-tragedy exit of the two gentlemen ; but, the mo- 
 ment they were gone, she became serious again, and 
 recommenced to study her niece. 
 
 " What fun ! Poor Mrs. Fitz James ! " the girl 
 was saying. Then, suddenly checking her laughter, 
 she sighed, " Oh, dear ! I was crying a minute ago." 
 
 " You laugh or cry just as Colonel Peyton chooses," 
 returned Mrs. Dumont, with severity if not with injus- 
 tice. 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 263 
 
 " I don't ! " asseverated Virginia, coloring. " It 
 was General Hilton who made me laugh. The idea of 
 an honorable, simple South Carolina gentleman, who 
 never did an underhanded thing in his whole life, 
 putting on the airs of an opera brigand ! It's enough 
 to upset any one's gravity." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont laid a hand on her breast, rolled her 
 eyes upward, pursed her lips, and, in short, prepared for 
 a struggle. 
 
 " I wonder if that was all ? " she said. " If the Gen- 
 eral had gone alone, and Colonel Peyton had staid to 
 see Mrs. Fitz James, I wonder if you would have 
 laughed so heartily ? " 
 
 Virginia's sensitive pride enabled her to see the 
 whole force of this accusation. "Aunt, what do you 
 mean ? " she demanded, indignantly. " Do you think I 
 would allow myself to fall in love with this man, or any 
 man ? " 
 
 " My dear, you put things so violently ! I wish I 
 could ever speak to you for your own good without 
 being answered so passionately." 
 
 There was a moment of silence, and then came a 
 subdued reply. " Excuse me, my dear aunt. But the 
 mere suggestion of such an idea is very fretting. It 
 seems to throw a stigma on me. You couldn't expect 
 a Beaufort to bear it patiently." 
 
 " I know you will always remember who you are," 
 said Mrs. Dumont. " But you are in a very difficult 
 situation. Oh, it is a dreadful situation ! " she groaned. 
 " I think of it sometimes, and of the possibility of gos- 
 sip about you, till it seems as if I should go wild. It is 
 such a strange situation — so completely unprecedented. 
 No other Beaufort was ever in such circumstances. 
 
264 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 There is nothing in our noble family history to guide 
 you." 
 
 " I believe I always remember that I am a married 
 woman," murmured Vii'ginia. "I know that I do. 
 How can I ever forget the horrid fact ? " 
 
 " But here you are making a demigod of this man, 
 and he makes a perfect goddess of you." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " exclaimed the girl, blushing violently. 
 *' Don't say that, aunt. He doesn't." 
 
 " I think he does. I am an old woman, my dear — 
 at least, I am a great deal older than you. I know men 
 better. Never mind about your being clever. You 
 may be cleverer in some things than any other Beau- 
 fort that ever lived. But I have been married. And a 
 married woman, no matter if she is a foolish old aunt, 
 understands men better than a girl." 
 
 " I am married, too," said Virginia, bitterly. 
 
 " What does it amount to ? Well, it amounts to a 
 good deal. So much the more reason for being care- 
 ful." 
 
 " I have been careful." 
 
 " In future, I mean ; on his account," pleaded Mrs. 
 Dumont, placatingly. 
 
 Virginia turned her face away from the light as she 
 muttered, " I don't believe he cares for me." 
 
 " He does ! " firmly insisted the elder lady. " I watch 
 him when you are not looking at him." 
 
 " I wish you wouldn't." This was said in a tone of 
 impatient lassitude, as if the speaker found the dialogue 
 wearisome and fretting. 
 
 " He never takes his eyes off you. He follows you 
 about the room with, oh, such a gaze ! I am perfectly 
 sure that he is dead in love with you." 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 265 
 
 Virginia fairly shrank under this announcement. 
 " O aunt ! what did you tell me that for ? " she broke 
 out in a sort of cry. " You drive me distracted ! " 
 
 " I tell it to you because you ought to know it," 
 persisted the monitress, with an anxious and almost 
 sorrowful glance of investigation. 
 
 The girl remained silent for a little, her eyes fixed 
 on the carpet and her hands clasped tight. At last, 
 looking up eagerly, she demanded : " What am I to 
 do ? I don't want to break with my poet — the only 
 poet I ever knew — merely because you suspect that — 
 that he cares for me. Oh, I wish I was divorced ! " 
 
 "Divorced!" screamed Mrs. Dumont. "There 
 never was a divorce in our family, nor in South Caro- 
 lina either, except among niggers. It is a thing that 
 niggers and Yankees do." Then, after a horrified stare 
 of inquiry, she added, " Do you mean divorced so that 
 you could take hhn f " 
 
 " No ! " answered Virginia, stamping her foot in the 
 violence of her denial. " But to be free — free from 
 scandal. I foresee that my life will be one long strug- 
 gle to avoid scandal." 
 
 " I am afraid so, my dear." 
 
 " I wish I was as ugly as a turkey-buzzard, and had 
 no more voice than a screech-owl," sobbed the girl, 
 driven into the grotesque by desperation. 
 
 Mrs. Dumont clasped her troubled bosom, lifted her 
 somber black eyes, and meditated gloomily. " I some- 
 times think," she resumed in a timorous tone — " of 
 course, it is dreadful to come to it — but I sometimes 
 think it would be best to — to write to Mr. Underhill." 
 
 Virginia's spirit was by this time wearied with out- 
 bursts, and she did not utter the vehement dissent which 
 12 
 
2QQ THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 had been expected. Slie merely sighed. " If my hus- 
 band were a noble Confederate soldier, I would crawl 
 on my knees to ask him to live with me." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont looked but half satisfied with this dec- 
 laration. Possibly it occurred to her that the phrase 
 "noble Confederate soldier" might express a kindly 
 reminiscence of Colonel Peyton. 
 
 " Of course, you would," she said. " A lady should 
 do almost anything, rather than live separated. I am 
 one of the old-fashioned sort. I believe that mar- 
 riage should mean something. I have always said 
 
 so." 
 
 The niece replied by a vacant look, as though she 
 failed to remember the remark, but felt that it mat- 
 tered little. "Are you quite in earnest, aunt?" she 
 presently asked. " Do you distinctly advise me to 
 write to Mr. Underbill ? " 
 
 Mrs. Dumont's old vacillation as to this thorny affair 
 returned upon her, and she evaded prompt and positive 
 response by having recourse to her emotions. " I don't 
 know, ^^rginia," she whimpered. " I want you to do 
 what is best for yourself, and for the good name of the 
 family, whatever that may be." 
 
 " I couldn't love him — I couldn't," said the wife in 
 a short, dry tone, shaking her head violently as if at the 
 image of her husband. Presently her face changed 
 from resolution to perplexity, and she asked anxiously, 
 " Must I refuse to see Colonel Peyton ? " 
 
 « Well— no," hesitated Mrs. Dumont. " That would 
 be rude. But do be careful. Don't let him adore you ; 
 and don't — " 
 
 " Don't adore him, I suppose you mean to say," 
 fretted Virginia. "However, I will be careful. I'll 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 2G7 
 
 talk with him as little as possible. I'll sing to him, and 
 make him read me his verses." 
 
 " Mercy on us ! do you suppose — " began the elder 
 lady ; but just then came a tap at the door, and Mrs. 
 Fitz James rushed in. 
 
 " How do, my dear ? — How do, Mrs. Dumont ? " she 
 laughed, kissing to right and left. — "I've got such a 
 lovely air for you, my dear," she added, running to the 
 piano. " Let me touch off the first bars for you." 
 
 Virginia hurried after her, exclaiming, " It's all in 
 confusion ; let me clear off those things." 
 
 But she was too late. The alert and inquisitive lit- 
 tle widow had already picked up the sheet containing 
 Underhill's ballad. 
 
 " What's this — a new piece ? " she rattled. " * Pick- 
 et's Charge ' — words by Colonel Henry Peyton — music 
 by L. De Bethune." She read this legend with undis- 
 guisable dismay, and with a really pitiful subsidence or 
 collapse of utterance. Then, turning suddenly upon 
 Virginia, but not looking her in the face, she asked : 
 " Have you been singing it ? Has he been here ? " 
 
 " Yes, he and General Hilton," was the brief reply. 
 
 " And you sang it to him ? " gasped Lotharinga. 
 " Oh, how charmed he must have been ! " she added, 
 forcing a smile. " How sweet of you ! Do sing it to 
 
 me." 
 
 There was nothing better to be done than to sit 
 down and execute the " Charge " with spirit. Mrs. 
 Fitz James listened abstractedly, obviously engaged in 
 profound and troublous reflections, but murmuring from 
 moment to moment : " Oh, that's lovely. IsaH it lovely ! 
 Too sweet for anything. And he gave it to you ? 
 What a perfectly irresistible man he is ! " 
 
268 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 Slie had nothing to say of the heroic strife, nothing 
 of the *• knightly dead," nothing of the clarion music. 
 When the song was ended she at once began to talk of 
 something else. Presently she got Virginia to essay her 
 own aria, a trivial bit of love-making nonsense. But 
 all this while it was as clear as possible that she was 
 meditating with her whole feather-headed might. At 
 last the attack came : she recommenced about Colo- 
 nel Peyton : he was irresistible — perfectly irresistible — 
 wasn't he, my dear ? 
 
 Virginia grew fretful under the repetition of the 
 phrase, and finally responded with some asperity, " You 
 may find him so, Mrs. Fitz James." 
 
 " So do other women," said Lotharinga, quickly. " I 
 came across one of his conquests this morning. Such a 
 pretty girl ! And such a nice girl ! — as I had supposed. 
 It is really too bad to tell on her. You must keep it a 
 solemn secret — promise me now. You wouldn't think 
 it of our demure little Irish thing, would you ? " 
 
 Virginia had not been able to help listening, nor 
 could she help turning hot and red with anger. Her 
 first impulse, no doubt, was to tell the scandal-monger 
 that her whole story was a stupid misunderstanding 
 or a wicked fabrication. But she was self-possessed 
 enough, or, more likely, paralyzed enough, to remain 
 speechless. It was the amazed Mrs. Dumont who de- 
 manded, " Do you mean Miss Macmorran ? " 
 
 " Just Miss Macmorran, and nobody else," afiirmed 
 Lotharinga, bearing on to her words significantly. " Oh, 
 I don't know how much it amounts to," she added with 
 the candor of a serpent. " I only suspect. But, my 
 dears, I suspect — volumes." 
 
 Virginia still sat silent, a spot of crimson in either 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 269 
 
 cheek, and her eyes settled sternly on the babbler's 
 face. Lotharinga's glance dropped, and then wandered 
 away to Mrs. Dumont, like a scared loon diving in one 
 spot to come up in another. 
 
 "I met them in the Luxembourg," she hurried on, 
 determined to finish her tale. " They had a long and 
 confidential talk. Then Colonel Peyton saw me and 
 stole away. I went straight up to Miss Macmorran and 
 pumped her. She is a sly little piece, with her nunnery 
 face and downcast eyes and subdued voice. Oh, she 
 was awfully adroit ; she dodged and evaded in wonder- 
 ful style ; she was almost too much for me. But I 
 learned something. I learned that there had been an 
 intimacy in America." 
 
 At last Virginia spoke. She had looked once or 
 twice at her aunt with an expression which asked, " Are 
 you not going to stop her ? " Now she broke out ener- 
 getically : " Why do you go on with this, Mrs. Fitz 
 James ? I prefer not to hear any more about it." 
 
 " Oh, well^if it annoys you — certainly," returned 
 Lotharinga, maliciously. "Let us talk of something 
 more genteel." 
 
 But the conversation dragged, and ere long she had 
 her cab summoned and drove home, cheered by the 
 belief, perhaps, that she had spoiled Colonel Peyton's 
 market with Miss Beaufort. It is entertaining, by-the- 
 way, to think what would have been her stupefaction 
 and wrath, could she have learned that the two sup- 
 posed lovers whom she was trying to separate were hus- 
 band and wife. 
 
 The moment she had departed, Virginia turned to 
 her aunt and asked, "How are we to behave to Miss 
 Macmorran ? " 
 
270 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 " How indeed ? " answered the perplexed lady. " I 
 can't believe ill of that modest, simple little thing. 
 And yet, there is that old affair in Charleston, her in- 
 terest in Mr. Underhill, you remember. She may be 
 aided by rich men, and under obligations to them. 
 Singers sometimes get on in that way, and of course get 
 more or less entangled. It is a little suspicious — have 
 you noticed the fact, Virginia ? — that she doesn't come 
 to see us of late — not once since Colonel Peyton ap- 
 peared." 
 
 '*I shall not look her up," said Virginia, after a 
 long meditation. "But if she calls, I shall treat her 
 well, until we learn more." 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! We know nothing as yet. Mrs. 
 Fitz James is a flibbertigibbet. I wish she would leave 
 Paris." ^ 
 
 " It makes my course all the easier," added Virginia, 
 with a sigh. 
 
 '' What course ? What are you talking about ? " 
 
 " My course with regard to Mr. Peyton.'* 
 
 Mrs. Dumont looked undecided, but made no remon- 
 strance. It was clear that both ladies had believed 
 somewhat of the gabble of Lotharinga, and that both 
 were now convinced that it would be well to see as little 
 as possible of the charming Colonel. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 A WEEK or so has passed since Mrs. Fitz James's 
 tattling visit. Looking into the Beaufort parlor, we 
 find Virginia alone, bending with a studious frown over 
 
TEE BLOODY CEASM. 271 
 
 her French dictionary, while in her lap lies a volume of 
 Thiers's " Histoire de I'Empire," a work naturally inter- 
 esting to a young lady who had grown up amid battles 
 and besiegings. Mrs. Dumont enters, drops upon a 
 sofa with the tired air of a woman who has done much 
 shopping, and gazes thoughtfully at her occupied, si- 
 lent niece. After a little, the following conversation 
 ensues : 
 
 3£rs. Dumont. " You are regularly unsociable to me, 
 Virginia. You hardly speak at all nowadays. You 
 work all the while." 
 
 Virginia (without looking up). "I must work. 
 How else can I pass my time ? Oh, it is so dreary — 
 this foreign life ! " 
 
 3Irs, Dumont. " I wish you wouldn't study so much. 
 That, or something, is wearing on you. You look 
 jaded. I wish you would see more people and have 
 some amusement." 
 
 - Virginia (throwing aside her book). " How can I 
 see more people ? Nobody comes, except General Hil- 
 ton and Mrs. Fitz James ; and I wish she wouldn't." 
 
 3frs. Dumont (picking over the card-basket). " Has 
 nobody been here to-day ? When was this card left ? 
 Did Colonel Peyton call ? " 
 
 Virginia (dryly). "I didn't see him." 
 
 3Irs. Dumont, " That makes three times — three re- 
 fusals. Do you mean to cut him altogether ? " 
 Virginia. "I wish he wouldn't call." 
 
 Ifr^s. Dumont. "He will soon stop, at this rate — 
 well, perhaps it is best." 
 
 Virginia (petulantly). " Best ! How can there be 
 any best about it? I think the whole thing is — 
 wretched ! " 
 
272 THE BLOODY CHASM, 
 
 Mrs. Dumont. " But haven't you helped to make it 
 so ? You are always so headlong and so extreme, Vir- 
 ginia ! There was no need of your breaking with this 
 gentleman abruptly and completely. I'm sure I didn't 
 advise that." 
 
 Virginia. "You remember what Mrs. Fitz James 
 told us, I suppose." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont, " Mrs. Fitz James is a very frivolous, 
 unreliable person. When you have had my experience 
 of the world you won't believe everything that its vota- 
 ries say. To be sure, it seems extraordinary to suppose 
 that a born lady would lie. But I have sometimes had 
 my doubts, dear, whether she is a born lady. I never 
 heard of the Hedstones." 
 
 Virginia. " I don't believe one word of the horrid 
 story. Mrs. Fitz James is a slanderous little vixen." 
 
 Mrs. Dmnont (in a scream). "Virginia! what lan- 
 guage ! I'm sure that I never heard such language 
 among the ladies of our family — that is, before the 
 war." 
 
 Virginia. " I perfectly hate her. She has no busi- 
 ness to bring her gossip here — into a Beaufort house." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont. " You are quite right, my dear. It 
 was a great impertinence. I don't wonder you are in- 
 dignant. So, then, you don't believe anything wrong 
 of Colonel Peyton ? In that case why refuse — " 
 
 Virginia (interrupting). "I don't believe anything 
 wrong of Norah Macmorran. She is a good, sweet, 
 nice girl, no matter if she is plebeian." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont. " So she is good and sweet. I wonder 
 at it. She is a Catholic. It is the church of Babylon. 
 But the girl herself is good." 
 
 Virginia. " Well, if she is good, he is good. I 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 273 
 
 don't know but that I ought to receive him. Aunt, 
 what shall I do ? Do tell me something positive." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont. " Certainly. I want you to behave 
 like a Beaufort. Remember that, whatever you decide 
 upon, do it like a Beaufort." 
 
 Yirginia (wearily). " Beaufort ! I am almost tired 
 of hearing the word. I wish I could call myself some- 
 thing else." 
 
 Mrs. Dumont (rolling up her eyes). "Virginia! 
 You shock me beyond expression. I never heard such 
 wild talk. One would suppose you were perfectly reck- 
 less and capable of anything." 
 
 The indecisive but enlightening dialogue was inter- 
 rupted by the entrance of General Hilton. He was 
 clearly in a sulky humor ; he looked perplexed, annoyed, 
 and injured. Some small talk opened, but he took little 
 part in it, and seemed to be meditating. Presently he 
 asked abruptly and with an appearance of excitement : 
 "What have you ladies got against my friend Peyton ? 
 He tells me that all of a sudden he is refused here. 
 He wanted to know of me if he had given offense." 
 
 Virginia rose, walked languidly to the piano, and 
 commenced thrumming abstractedly. Mrs. Dumont 
 glanced at her niece, as if for instructions, and, getting 
 none, ventured to say, " There is some annoying gossip 
 about Miss Macmorran." 
 
 " O aunt ! " protested Virginia, wheeling impatiently 
 on her music-stool. " I didn't want you to speak of her." 
 
 "What did you want me to speak of?" implored 
 the bothered Mrs. Dumont. 
 
 " Oh, never mind," fretted the girl. " It is a wretched, 
 stupid muddle, but you may as well go on, now that 
 you have begun." 
 
274 TEE ELOODY CEASM. 
 
 " What about Miss Macmorran ? " demanded the 
 General, indignantly, as if he would like to challenge 
 somebody. 
 
 ■ " Miss Macmorran and Mr. Peyton," whispered the 
 elder lady. " A love-affair." 
 
 Remembering, no doubt, the old complication be- 
 tween Norah and Underhill, the General looked scared. 
 He was so really and thoroughly dismayed, indeed, that 
 at first he could only murmur, " I hope not." Then, re- 
 covering his courage a little, but still greatly con- 
 founded, he inquired, " Do you mean something past, 
 or something present ? " 
 
 " Both," returned Mrs. Dumont. " That is the story. 
 I don't quite believe it ; I don't want to believe it. He 
 is too much the gentleman, I think, to care for a low- 
 born girl. And she — well, I like her, too, and judge 
 well of her." 
 
 "There is no love-affair between them," affirmed 
 Hilton, who had had time to think it all over. " If it 
 is a man who brings this story, I'll make a personal 
 matter of it with him. By Jove ! " he concluded, look- 
 ing about him wrathfully, " I am not too old for that 
 
 yet." 
 
 " You can't do that. General," said Mrs. Dumont, 
 simply, and without either surprise or agitation, so ac- 
 customed was she to the idea of a duel. "It is a wom- 
 an." 
 
 Then the General made a guess. "Mrs. Fitz 
 James ! " he_ scoffed. " What do you believe her for ? 
 She is a light, wrong-headed, misbelieving little bag- 
 gage. Is it possible, my dear ladies, that you are shut- 
 ting your doors for her sake on a dear and trusted friend 
 of mine ? " 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 275 
 
 Once more Virginia wheeled upon her pivot, but 
 this time with a fairly cheerful face. " I want you to 
 understand us, General," she said. " Your friend may 
 pay attention to whom he pleases, if he won't trifle with 
 good and poor people." 
 
 " Pitch Mrs. Fitz James's gossip out of the window," 
 returned Hilton. " There has been no trifling here — no 
 paying attention to anybody." 
 
 " I shall write him a note," decided the young wom- 
 an, with her characteristic vim, " I shall ask him to 
 tea." 
 
 The General sometimes forgot, as it were, that Pey- 
 ton was Underbill and Virginia's husband ; but at this 
 moment he recalled the fact vividly, and nearly laughed 
 in the wife's unsuspicious face. He struggled with 
 himself, however, and merely smiled as he said, " I 
 think you owe him as much as that." 
 
 Then Mrs. Dumont queried whether the invitation 
 ought not to be in her name and handwriting. 
 
 "I want to write it myself," insisted the girl. — 
 " Mayn't I, General ? My aunt is always fearful I shall 
 do something improper in a married woman." 
 
 "I don't think your husband would object to your 
 writing that note," answered Hilton, with a grin. 
 
 " What did you say that for ? " demanded Virginia, 
 evidently both puzzled and nettled. 
 
 The General looked at her ; then looked at vacancy 
 with an air of meditation ; then settled his eyes on her 
 once more, and responded gravely, " I think you are 
 doing something improper all the time." 
 
 " I should like to know what," was the pugnacious 
 retort. 
 
 "Living without your husband," said the General, 
 
276 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 firmly. " Why don't you put an end to the worrying 
 and scandalous situation ? There is no longer any suffi- 
 cient reason for it. The old bitterness has faded out of 
 your soul, at least in a great measure. Don't deny it ; I 
 can see it. Time and distance and prosperity have done 
 a part of their inevitable work, and are sure to do the 
 rest. You have to make a struggle to remember your 
 anger. You talk about hating your husband, and you 
 are merely indifferent to your marriage. What is the 
 use of a make-believe aversion ? What nobility, what 
 sense even, is there in living a lie ? It has just occurred 
 to me that living a lie is as unbecoming to a Beaufort 
 as telling one. Besides, you are driving your best 
 friends into suppressions and prevarications which de- 
 mean them, and which they are ashamed of. We have 
 to call you Miss Beaufort when you are Mrs. Underhill. 
 We have to fib and sham and lurk and sneak, for jowc 
 sake." 
 
 Both the ladies seemed to be completely over- 
 whelmed by this tremendous indictment. Mrs. Dumont 
 looked at Hilton as a criminal might look at the State's 
 attorney, and feebly stammered forth, "I'm sure it 
 isn't I who uphold her in it." Virginia, reddening to 
 her forehead, forgot to make the simple assertion that 
 she did hate her husband, and that therefore her life 
 was not entirely a lie. She merely said, in a hesitating 
 and undecided way, " It shows such a lack of character 
 to change." 
 
 " Ah, my child ! " sighed the General, " you are 
 just like all of us ; you are just like the whole South. 
 You make yourself miserable by refusing to recognize 
 an accomplished fact." 
 
 **. I proposed this separation," pleaded Virginia. " I 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 277 
 
 think it would be contemptible in me to propose to give 
 it up." 
 
 "Look into the future," said Hilton, pursuing his 
 advantage with something like oratorical vehemence. 
 " What have you to hope for in life ? what usage of the 
 affections ? what womanly development ? what chance 
 of happiness ? Think of ten years hence — thirty years 
 — fifty ! You are preparing for yourself a lonely and 
 melancholy old age." 
 
 " I sha'n't live to be old — I hope not," muttered Vir- 
 ginia. 
 
 " My child, that is wrong," put in Mrs. Dumont. 
 " You will live as long as your Maker pleases." 
 
 " You will be a solitary, friendless old worldling," 
 groaned Hilton, honestly and profoundly touched by 
 the picture he was drawing, so potent was the man's 
 imagination and so tender his heart. " Do you remem- 
 ber Pope's verses — * See how the world its veterans re- 
 wards : a youth of frolics, an old age of cards ' — and so 
 on?" 
 
 " They don't apply to me. Have I had a youth of 
 frolics? I had a youth of calamities and solemnities. 
 My life ought to be passed in remembering them. It 
 must be sacred to them." 
 
 " You are young yet," said the General. " Pardon 
 me for being honest and bold with you. The frolics 
 may come." 
 
 " Never ! " declared Virginia, reddening to her hair 
 
 again. 
 
 " Will you write to your husband ? " he asked, sig- 
 nificantly. " Shall I write for you ? " 
 
 The girl wavered in silence for a little, but at last 
 shook her head. 
 
278 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 Hilton surveyed her a moment, and then made a ter- 
 rible home-thrust. " Shall I ask Colonel Peyton to do 
 it ? " he inquired. 
 
 There came into the girl's face an expression which 
 was either a consciousness of guilt, or a consciousness 
 that a colorable charge had been brought against her. 
 She tried to show resentment, and could not ; she mere- 
 ly murmured, " What has he to do with it ? " 
 
 " What I mean is, that you ought to tell Peyton of 
 your marriage," continued the General. " The truth 
 would save entanglements and misconceptions. It will 
 bring you his respect. I am sure that you had better 
 let him be informed. If you do not, you will regret 
 it." 
 
 " It would be more like a Beaufort, my dear," urged 
 Mrs. Dumont. 
 
 " Well, if I ought, I must," hesitated Virginia. She 
 looked very undecided, however, and presently sub- 
 joined, " I will think of it." 
 
 When Hilton next saw Underhill, he said to him, 
 " You can call on the Beauf orts now." Then he burst 
 into an uncontrollable fit of laughter and added : " I am 
 afraid your wife is falling in love with you. She ought 
 to be ashamed of herself." 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 When Underhill next called at the Beaufort apart- 
 ment, he obtained prompt admission and found his wife 
 alone. 
 
 They were heartily glad to see each other, and could 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 279 
 
 not quite disguise the magnetic fact. In spite of Vir- 
 ginia's efforts at reserve — if, indeed, she remembered to 
 make any — the interview had the air of a meeting be- 
 tween warm friends who are delighted to end a differ- 
 ence. Underbill uttered his pleasure at finding her once 
 more with a fervor of feeling which gave the words ten- 
 fold their natural significance. Virginia's voice was 
 just a little tremulous as she replied that it was very- 
 good of him to persist in calling despite of disappoint- 
 ments. Meanwhile he sat so near her, and his gaze 
 dwelt upon her so admiringly, that ere long she began 
 to color feverishly and to look uneasy. It seemed to 
 her necessary that the subject of their reconciliation (so 
 to call it) should be dropped, and that some barrier 
 should be put up athwart this too emotional interchange 
 of felicitations and amities. 
 
 Was it best to make revelation, as promptly as pos- 
 sible, of her marriage ? There could be no doubt of it ; 
 the burning in his eyes told her that — the burning in 
 her cheeks also. But how could such a delicate and 
 embarrassing confession be accomplished ? To drag it 
 bluntly into the dialogue would look like an assumption 
 that her visitor cared for her and needed a warning. 
 The subject must be reached through some other sub- 
 ject ; the revelation must glide in, as it were, by acci- 
 dent. Perhaps it was chance, perhaps it was a deceiv- 
 ing undercurrent of interested curiosity, which led her 
 to turn the conversation upon N^orah Macmorran. 
 
 " You have heard me mention her," she continued, 
 meanwhile avoiding to look at him, lest she should see 
 guilt in his face. "I wish you could hear her sing. 
 She has a delicious voice and a great deal of feeling. 
 She sometimes comes to practice with me ; but I haven't 
 
280 THE BLOODY CHASM, 
 
 seen her for quite a while. I am afraid she has had 
 some trouble. I ought to go and look her up." 
 
 " I know her," replied Underhill, with entire com- 
 posure of manner, so little did the name of Norah move 
 him, now that he was in love with his wife. " I met her 
 at the Luxembourg with Mr. De Bethune, a few days 
 ago. She was well then." 
 
 His calmness, and the mention of De Bethune as 
 Norah's escort, clearly gave great satisfaction to Vir- 
 ginia. She went on buoyantly with the subject. Miss 
 Macmorran was lovely. She came of commonplace peo- 
 ple, but she was herself very lovely. As for her sing- 
 ing, she was almost a great singer, and yet so charm- 
 ingly unobtrusive and modest ! That nun-like way of 
 hers was fascinating, and all the more so because it ex- 
 pressed her character. Was it possible that she had 
 allowed Mr. De Bethune to wait on her to the Luxem- 
 bourg ? Well, so she might ; he was a thorough gen- 
 tleman and a good man ; he was fit company for a Lady 
 Superior. 
 
 " Really, that inspires me with an audacious idea," 
 she added, her eyes sparkling. " I want to befriend 
 Norah ; I want to get her married — if that is befriend- 
 ing her." 
 
 " I believe people generally think so," replied Un- 
 derhill, with an imploring sort of smile. 
 
 "It may not be so — not always," said Virginia, 
 turning grave again. " There are some unhappy mar- 
 riages. I will tell you of one — some time." 
 
 She so evidently referred to her own, and was so 
 obviously upon the brink of speaking plainly of it, that 
 her husband trembled and turned red. 
 
 " Now, who shall the man be ? " she resumed, after a 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 281 
 
 moment. " Where shall I find a husband for Miss Mac- 
 morran ? " 
 
 "Let her find him herself," he answered, incautious- 
 ly. " It is the simple old way." 
 
 "It is the American way, and the good way. A 
 husband who is found for you is a grievance and a dan- 
 ger." 
 
 " Always ? " asked Underbill, soberly. "Not always, 
 I hope and trust. There are many happy marriages in 
 France, although they are usually arranged by the 
 mothers." 
 
 Virginia shook her head gravely ; she held it a hard 
 thing to believe. " I have such a prejudice against ar- 
 ranged marriages ! " she sighed. " I will tell you why — 
 some day." 
 
 Once more she had made an effort to reach her con- 
 fession, and once more some confused emotion had 
 caused her to fail. It was far easier to talk of Miss 
 Macmorran than of herself. 
 
 " What was I saying ? " she muttered, after a brief 
 silence. " Oh, I was proposing to find a husband for 
 Norah. It won't be easy, I fear. She has no family 
 and no money. A rich gentleman might not want her, 
 and a poor gentleman perhaps couldn't afford her. 
 What is to be done about it ? I should hate to see her 
 fall to some common fellow. But where is the uncom- 
 mon fellow who will take her? " 
 
 Underbill liked the subject. In the first place, it 
 was quite enough for him that his wife there was inter- 
 ested in it. In the second place, as we know full well, 
 he bore earnest good-will to the modest and pretty 
 Irish girl, and had also a feeling that he owed her repa- 
 ration for peace disturbed. After pondering the match- 
 
282 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 making problem for a little, he looked up with a smile 
 of satisfaction and said : " Why not De Bethune ? I 
 thought she had the air of liking him." 
 
 " Did she ? " laughed Virginia, delighted, no doubt, 
 with the amiable fact itself, but perhaps equally de- 
 lighted with her poet's obvious pleasure in mentioning 
 it. It was very clear to her mind by this time that 
 Lotharinga's tale about a flirtation between Colonel 
 Peyton and Miss Macmorran was a silly or wicked fib. 
 
 " Oh, that would be so nice ! " she went on. " They 
 are just suited to each other — both Catholics, both mu- 
 sicians ; and he likes her character and ways — I know 
 he does. He really thinks she is quite high-bred, be- 
 cause she has that monastic meekness and shyness, like 
 a demoiselle Fran^aise. As for her family, what does 
 that matter, over here ? Speaking two languages, and 
 singing almost well enough for a prima donna, she 
 would be quite a star in bourgeois society. There is 
 only one difiiculty : Mr. De Bethune — poor, nice gentle- 
 man — ^has no money ; and, like, all decent Frenchmen, 
 he thinks it wrong to marry on nothing ; that is, I sup- 
 pose he thinks so." 
 
 Colonel Peyton — alias Colonel Underhill — suggested 
 that that was a difficulty which might be got over. 
 Then followed a long financial conversation of a most 
 opulent and munificent character. It must be remem- 
 bered that both these young persons were very wealthy ; 
 that the lady had some thirty thousand a year, and the 
 gentleman considerably more. It w^as quite easy for 
 people in such comfortable circumstances to suggest ar- 
 rangements which would justify a poor professor of 
 music in marrying a penniless church-singer. 
 
 After a time it became apparent to Virginia that the 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 283 
 
 Colonel was talking as if his pocket-book were concerned 
 in the proposed settlement. 
 
 " But this money mustn't come from yoi^," she said, 
 with her usual frankness and decision. " She wouldn't 
 take it from you, nor would Mr. De Bethune like to 
 have her, I presume." 
 
 "It could come from me by passing through your 
 hands," he suggested. " Why not from me — at least 
 in part ? " 
 
 Virginia shook her head ; she alone must give the 
 dowry. Underbill bowed to her judgment with a look 
 of admiration followed by a smile of amusement. Ap- 
 parently it entertained him to see his wife thus grandly 
 dispensing and donating what had once been his uncle's 
 treasure, and, but for her, would have been his own. 
 Presently he made bold to remark that, before the 
 match should be proposed to De Bethune, it would be 
 well to see a lawyer and inquire into the methods and 
 proprieties of matrimonial endowments. Virginia re- 
 plied with charming simplicity that General Hilton was 
 one of the leaders of the Charleston bar, and that she 
 would consult him. 
 
 " The General is not qualified to act here," Under- 
 bill delicately observed, not caring to tell her that her 
 trusted friend was ignorant of the civil code. " I think 
 you will need a French attorney," he added. " I happen 
 to have with me the address of one, and a very able one, 
 as my bankers tell me. Allow me to give it to you." 
 
 He drew a number of papers from his pocket, selected 
 a card from among them, and handed it to Virginia. 
 She took it, thanked him with a smile, and went to de- 
 posit it in her writing-desk. The skirt of her dress caught 
 a slip of manuscript which lay upon the floor, and 
 
284 THE BLOODY CEASM. 
 
 dragged it half across the room. Neither of them no- 
 ticed it, and the dialogue was resumed. They had just 
 reached the judicious decision that nothing should be 
 done without legal advice, when Mrs. Dumont entered, 
 saluted the visitor cordially, noted the stray bit of paper, 
 picked it up and handed it to Virginia. 
 
 " What is this ? " was the very natural question of 
 a middle-aged lady who had mislaid her glasses, and 
 could not read without them. 
 
 " Verses ! " exclaimed the worshiper of poesy with 
 a little laugh of pleasure. "It is your handwriting. 
 Colonel Peyton. Did you bring them for me ? Please 
 let me look at them." 
 
 Underhill apparently had not brought the verses for 
 her, and he rather allowed consent to be assumed than 
 uttered it. Thereupon, in a tone of rapidly deepening 
 emotion, Virginia read aloud the following ballad. : 
 
 "Kayex Van Ross. 
 
 " ' They say that the Vandals will come :. 
 
 I would not believe it till now ; 
 But this horrible throbbing and hum 
 
 Is the tramp of their march drawing near, 
 And the roll of their barbarous drum : 
 
 So let me remember my vow, 
 And hasten forth robed for my bier, 
 To strike at the joy of their cheer, 
 
 To strike and leave some one dumb. 
 
 (( ( 
 
 My lineage is gentle and old. 
 And my heart is virginal pure ; 
 
 My hair is a girl's sunny gold, 
 And my hand is of satiny gloss 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 285 
 
 But no heart can more bravely endure 
 
 The peril of life and the loss ; 
 No hand with the pistol is truer, 
 And I'll shoot the first Yankee as sure 
 
 As my name is Raven Van Ross ! ' 
 
 " She speeded forth into the night, 
 
 And saw the dark column anigh ; 
 She stood there in delicate white, 
 
 A woman too lovely to die — 
 Too precious for aught but the sight 
 
 Of Love, and the kiss of his mouth. 
 And the clasp of his yearning delight; 
 But, maddened by eclioes of fight, 
 
 And the passionate blood of the South, 
 
 "She shot! But no death-cry replied; 
 
 From the column responded no ball ; 
 It trampled on massive and wide, 
 
 From curbstone to curbstone across, 
 Dumb, solemn and black as a pall, 
 
 Unknowing that close by its side, 
 Withdrawn from life's hyssop and gall. 
 Heart-broken, death-smitten, lay aU 
 
 That remained of Raven Van Ross." 
 
 A year before, Yirginia could not have read these 
 verses aloud. Now, by a great effort, she was able to 
 finish them ; but with the last line she burst out weep- 
 ing violently. Mrs. Dumont, who had a tear or two on 
 her cheeks, glanced at the Colonel as if she were moved 
 to tell him something, but could not because of the pres- 
 ence of her niece. Underhill, who knew perfectlv well 
 that his poem narrated the death of Virginia's sister, 
 watched her in silent pain and anxiety. It was a long 
 
286 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 time — that is, it seemed a long time — before any one 
 spoke. At last the shaken girl recovered a little self- 
 control, and, looking Underhill piteously in the face, 
 sobbed out : " Did you know that that was my sister ? 
 Did you know her ? " 
 
 " The incident was related to me," he replied, eva- 
 sively. " It was so startling that it took possession of 
 my imagination. I may say that I couldn't help writ- 
 ing the ballad. But I am very sorry that I chanced to 
 bring it here." 
 
 " How strange ! " murmured Virginia. " You seem 
 to be doomed to move me ; there is a fatality about it. 
 Will you give me the poem ? It is a companion-piece 
 to the other ; they are both epitaphs. I wish that you 
 would give it to me." 
 
 " You shall do as you like with it," he bowed. Then, 
 feeling, no doubt, that to prolong the interview would 
 be to prolong a pain, he begged forgiveness for having 
 reawakened grief, and took his departure. 
 
 " Call again — soon," said Virginia, very gently, and 
 he replied, smiling, " Thanks for your permission." 
 
 Scarcely had he gone — scarcely had this very kindly 
 farewell been uttered — when Mrs. Dumont turned to 
 her niece and asked, gravely, " Does he understand that 
 you are married ? " 
 
 " I tried to tell him — and couldn't," confessed the 
 girl, shedding tears once more — this time tears of shame 
 and humiliation. 
 
 " O Virginia ! Where will this end ? " groaned Mrs. 
 Dumont. 
 
THE BLOODY CEASM. 287 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 It was a period of vacillations with the usually con- 
 fident and decided Virginia. 
 
 When her aunt asked her " where this was to end," 
 she replied impetuously, " I don't care if it ends in the 
 Seine ! " 
 
 "Virginia, hush ! " exclaimed the elder lady, indig- 
 nantly. " I know, of course, that you don' tmean what 
 you say. But I don't wish to hear such reckless and 
 unchristian remarks from a person of my family." 
 
 Next morning, appearing late and pale at the break- 
 fast-table, the unhappy child meekly announced that 
 she desired, if her aunt did not object, to quit Paris as 
 quickly as possible and return to Charleston. 
 
 "I dare say it is the best place for us," assented 
 Mrs. Dumont. " South Carolinians are happier in South 
 Carolina than they can be anywhere else. Besides, you 
 will get rid of your present perplexities and annoyances, 
 my dear." 
 
 Later in the day our troubled and irresolute heroine 
 sent a note to General Hilton, setting forth that she 
 wished to go to Milan to continue her musical studies, 
 and asking if he could find it convenient and pleasant to 
 accompany them thither. 
 
 The result was a prompt call from her old friend, and 
 a vague but eager plea against the project of quitting 
 Paris, the conversation eventually running on to the 
 subject of Colonel Peyton, and the urgent propriety of 
 informing: him as to the marriacje. 
 
 Virginia's next change of opinion and purpose will 
 appear in a dialogue which took place between herself 
 and Mrs. Fitz James. The tricky but honestly love-lorn 
 
288 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 little widow called with her brother, but soon became 
 visibly anxious to have him take his departure. 
 
 " When are you going, Frank ? " she asked for the 
 thii'd or fourth time, beginning to look a little cross. 
 
 " Going where ? " queried the urbane tease. 
 " Why, to the club — to the boulevards — wherever 
 you do go. You know well enough where to go when 
 I want you to stay." 
 
 "I thought I was wanted here — not by you, of 
 course," trifled Frank. — " Miss Beaufort, you couldn't 
 think of sparing me, could you ? " 
 
 " To oblige your sister, I might," replied Virginia, in 
 a tone of such complete indifference that Mr. Hedstone 
 smiled again and bowed ironically. 
 
 " Do trot off, Frank," urged Lotharinga. " I have 
 something awfully particular to say to Miss Beau- 
 fort." 
 
 " It may be worth your saying and not worth her 
 hearing," tranquilly rejoined the brother, as he took his 
 sauntering departure. 
 
 The moment the two young women were left alone, 
 Mrs. Fitz James began to prattle about Colonel Peyton. 
 She talked in a hurried, nervous twitter, glancing quick- 
 ly at Virginia and away again, and trying in vain to 
 wear a smile of light composure. 
 
 " So you have gone to seeing him again ? " she said. 
 " Well, I don't blame you ; so have I. He is too irre- 
 sistible for anything. Such a man as that can do what 
 he pleases, and a lady must put up with it." 
 
 Virginia was apparently out of patience with the 
 widow, and had decided to give her a smart setting 
 down. " Mrs. Fitz James," she replied, looking her 
 straight in the face, ^' you are entirely mistaken in your 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM, 289 
 
 judgment of Colonel Peyton. He is a thoroughly high- 
 minded, good-hearted man." 
 
 Lotharinga was not crushed ; on the contrary, she 
 was delighted. " You don't say that he doesn't care for 
 that girl ! " she exclaimed, with a happy face. The 
 truth is, that she had partly believed her story about the 
 scene at the Luxembourg, and that she had been at 
 least as jealous of Norah Macmorran as of her friend 
 here present. 
 
 " He is a perfectly high-minded, kind-hearted man," 
 repeated Virginia, too angry with the subject to enter 
 into it specifically. 
 
 "I am so glad to hear you say so !" returned Mrs. 
 Fitz James, with a smile of honest joy. "He had 
 stopped calling on me," she rattled on. " That is, you 
 know, he called less often ; and I suspected it was on 
 her account. I am so glad — " 
 
 " You made me do him a very great injustice," in- 
 terrupted Virginia, reproachfully, as if embittered by 
 Lotharinga's happiness. 
 
 "What ?" queried the little widow eagerly. "Did 
 you have a scene ? " 
 
 " Certainly not," replied our noble young South Caro- 
 linian, drawing herself up in amazement and hauteur. 
 
 " Oh, of course," nodded Mrs. Fitz James, not in the 
 least hurt, so interested was she and so obtuse to scorn. 
 " One doesn't talk outright of some things. What was I 
 thinking of ? " she added with a little make-believe air 
 of indifference. " I wanted to ask you something. Oh 
 — so you have made up again *" 
 
 The question, when it was permitted to come out, 
 revealed deep and piteous eagerness. It was answered 
 by a grave, settled gaze, which came from solemn trouble 
 13 
 
290 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 and perplexity of spirit, but which to the poor little 
 interrogator seemed contemptuous and very cruel. 
 
 " You are so reserved and proud, Miss Beaufort ! " 
 she said, or rather gasped. " I can't say hardly any- 
 thing to you that I want to." 
 
 Virginia drew a long breath — the forced breath of 
 one who struggles for speech — and then in a cold, low 
 monotone replied, " Mrs. Fitz James, I don't mean to be 
 
 uncivil." 
 
 " I wish I could understand you," complained Lotha- 
 ringa, very near to whimpering. She pondered a mo- 
 ment, biting her restless lips, glancing uneasily about 
 the room, griping her parasol unconsciously in her 
 small glove, the picture and incarnation of a little soul 
 mightily tempest-tossed. At last, speaking so rapidly 
 and gaspingly that the words could hardly be under- 
 stood, she asked, " Do you care for Colonel Peyton ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Fitz James ! You perfectly amaze me ! " ex- 
 claimed Virginia. The query struck deep : she could 
 not sit still under the blow ; she rose and walked the 
 room, as a worried man does. After one turn, however, 
 she stopped in front of the dismayed Lotharinga, and 
 said in a strong, steady voice : " Mrs. Fitz James, I can 
 clear this up in one word. I am — married ! " 
 
 " Married — you ? — o — h ! " 
 
 It is utterly impossible to give an idea of the into- 
 nations of amazement, of relief, and of joy with which 
 the enamored widow uttered these three words. It is 
 almost equally impossible to describe how much sweet- 
 er and finer Lotharinga looked than she in heart could 
 possibly be. She was, as we already know, a common- 
 place, selfish, unscrupulous, and almost mean little creat- 
 ure. But at this moment, embellished and ennobled 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 291 
 
 by love, gratitude, and happiness, she had the air of an 
 angel, and seemed worthy of any man's adoration. 
 
 " And I am not married to Colonel Peyton," contin- 
 ued Virginia. " That settles it, that I can not care for 
 him." 
 
 Mrs. Fitz did not think to dispute this inferential 
 statement, although, alas ! it might reasonably have been 
 questioned. Just then she had no thoughts but for that 
 surprising confession of marriage, and for the palpitat- 
 ing gladness which it brought her. A bystander might, 
 perhaps, have heard her worthless little heart beat as 
 she gasped out : " Who would have imagined ! Is it 
 possible ! " 
 
 She meditated a moment, and then added, with a 
 bright, sweet smile : " Qh, my dear friend, I am so 
 obliged to you for telling me this ! You have taken 
 such a load off my mind ! I'll be perfectly frank, now. 
 I thought he liked you best, and — I'll tell you the whole 
 truth, now — I perfectly worship him — there ! " 
 
 She ended her confession with such a throb of emo- 
 tion that her voice broke, and the tears came into her 
 eyes. 
 
 "We can imagine the feelings with which Virginia 
 listened ; but her utterance revealed naught of them 
 when she answered. "You can inform him of 
 my marriage," she said. "I would prefer to have 
 you." 
 
 " Oh, thank you ! " smiled Mrs. Fitz, so simply, and 
 gratefully, and joyously, that it is difficult not to pity 
 her, knowing as we do the hopelessness of her love. 
 "But, perhaps he wouldn't believe me," she instantly 
 suggested. "Everybody calls you Miss Beaufort." 
 Then an odd expression of mingled inquisitiveness and 
 
292 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 amusement came over her face, as she added, " What 
 is your name ? " 
 
 "Mrs. Underhill." Virginia uttered the word with 
 an unwillingness and pain which we can understand ; 
 but, singular as the tone was, it did not rouse the slight- 
 est interest or sympathy in Lotharinga. 
 
 " Underhill ? You don't say so ! " she chattered, 
 gayly. "It seems like a dream. To think you have 
 been married all this time ! Well, life is a romance. 
 It's stranger than fiction. I guess Colonel Peyton will 
 think so. Won't he be surprised ! He will be very 
 much surprised, my dear, after all that has happened. 
 In fact, I suppose, he will be incredulous, at first. He 
 won't believe me — that is, I guess he won't. How am 
 I to make him believe it, unless you tell him of it 
 too ? " 
 
 " I have decided to tell him the next time I see him," 
 said Virginia. Her voice was a little unnatural, a little 
 tremulous, as she made this promise. It is likely enough 
 that she found her visitor's cheerfulness and eagerness 
 hard to bear. 
 
 " Oh, thank you — thank you ! " exclaimed Lotha- 
 ringa, jumping up and kissing our unhappy heroine. 
 " I see it is an effort for you to talk of it. I won't ask 
 any questions. You have my sympathy, darling, and 
 my best love. But of course your decision is right," 
 she added, prudently. " A marriage, however unhappy, 
 is always best announced. It saves misunderstandings 
 and imbroglios." 
 
 " Don't be anxious," Mrs. Underhill could not help 
 retaliating. "I won't forget to announce it." 
 
 Lotharinga accepted the scoff with patience, and 
 even with sweetness. She would probably have let Vir- 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 293 
 
 ginia box her ears without showing resentment, so hap- 
 py was she over the news of this matrimony, and so 
 eager to have it made public. 
 
 " Well, I must go," she said, shaking out her dress, 
 and surveying herself in the pier-glass. "Dear me, 
 I'm so glad I came ! Good-by, my dear Virginia — my 
 dear, dear Mrs. Underhill," she giggled, and, with an- 
 other kiss, fluttered away. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Shoktlt after the departure of Lotharinga, General 
 Hilton and Underhill arrived, and were admitted by 
 Aunt Chloe. There was a little anteroom, where visit- 
 ors of a common class were usually detained, and there 
 the two gentlemen chose to halt, instead of pushing on 
 to the parlor. 
 
 "We met Mrs. Fitz James going away, aunty," 
 said the General. "Has she told any fibs this time — 
 made any row in the family ? " 
 
 " Kuther 'specs not," replied the old woman. " We 
 all seems putty quiet in our minds. Don' rain every 
 time pig squeal." 
 
 " Very good. Now, aunty, I want to see Mrs. Du- 
 mont on business. Ask her if she will do me the favor 
 to step in here. Don't bring Miss Ginny along, and 
 don't come back yourself. It's too old talk for young 
 folks." 
 
 "Mus' be mighty ole, if it's too ole fo' me," 
 chuckled Aunt Chloe, as she seesawed out of the room. 
 
294 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 " I'se somethin' like a turkey-buzzard : I knows mo' dead 
 folks dan livin' ones." 
 
 Presently Mrs. Dumont came stealthily down the 
 passage, and entered the anteroom, with face full of 
 expectancy. She glanced almost timorously at the 
 Colonel, as if he were a man who held much of Beau- 
 fort destiny in his grasp, and could perhaps work mis- 
 chief with her noble name, if he should violently will 
 it. Nevertheless, she gave him her hand pleasantly, 
 and murmured a word or two of stately welcome. 
 
 "Do me the kindness to sit down by me," the Gen- 
 eral said to her. "I have an important secret to com- 
 municate. As for the Colonel, we must get him out of 
 hearing, and he had better step in and chat with Vir- 
 ginia." 
 
 Underbill bowed in silence, and took his way to the 
 parlor. He looked as if Hilton's important secret con- 
 cerned himself, and as if some decisive and terrible dis- 
 closure were at hand. His face lost color, and his eyes 
 became solemn with anxiety, while he awaited the an- 
 swer to his tap on the door. Hearing at last the words 
 *' Come in," he entered very softly, and with a bearing 
 of apology. It was obvious that the disguised husband 
 was at that moment very much afraid of the unsuspect- 
 ing wife. 
 
 " I have ventured again, you see," he said, with an 
 almost imploring smile. " I hope you won't tire of me." 
 
 Virginia gazed at him with the gravity and the 
 speechless embarrassment of one who feels that an an- 
 swer may amount to much, and who can not at once de- 
 cide what that answer should be. Her trouble of mind, 
 or perhaps one should rather say of feeling, must have 
 been very distressing, for she turned quite pale. 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 295 
 
 " Are you unwell ? " he asked, after one agitated 
 glance at her colorless face. 
 
 " No, sir," she murmured. Norah Macmorran could 
 not have been more meek in speech or subdued in man- 
 ner. Presently she remembered the demands of cour- 
 tesy, and added more firmly, " Please sit down. Colonel 
 Peyton." 
 
 Underbill bowed and took a chair near her, mean- 
 time watching her with a tender interest which he not 
 only could not control, but did not even strive to hide. 
 
 "I thought General Hilton came with you," said 
 Virginia, who would have given anything to have some 
 one enter and break up this tete-d-tete, although she 
 had fully determined that her visitor should not depart 
 without hearing of her marriage. 
 
 " He stopped in the anteroom to speak to your 
 aunt," explained Underbill, tremulously, for he well 
 knew what his friend was to reveal. " I believe he has 
 something special to say to her." 
 
 Virginia glanced at the door with an air of inquiry 
 and wonder. In her present agitation of mind every in- 
 cident was significant. Was the General talking about 
 herself and that lugubrious secret of hers which she 
 found it so hard to confess ? Was he, by bare possi- 
 bility, making an offer of marriage to Mrs. Dumont ? 
 Well, whatever might be up, it was a private interview 
 between a gentleman and a lady, and another lady must 
 not interfere. She could not summon either of them to 
 help her face Colonel Peyton. 
 
 "I suppose he will come in soon," she murmured. 
 " When he does, I shall have something to tell you." 
 
 Underbill smiled faintly, and drew a deep breath of 
 satisfaction, such as men draw only a few times in their 
 
296 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 lives. It was clear that she was nerving herself to re- 
 veal her marriage ; and how noble it was in her, he 
 said to himself, the love-lorn young fellow ; how he ad- 
 mired and adored her for it ! 
 
 Then came the question whether he should speak his 
 love before she reached her avowal. Or, rather, the 
 question did not come up at all ; he did not argue it, 
 nor even think of it : he gave way to a sudden and vio- 
 lent impulse. He wanted to speak — to say to his wife 
 that he worshiped her — to woo her and win her and se- 
 cure her at once. He had been married to her " for 
 months, and had never given her a sign of affection, nor 
 even breathed a word of courtship. He must utter his 
 heart, and utter it now. 
 
 " I have something to tell yoi^," he burst forth. " I 
 have to tell you that I love you with all my soul ! " he 
 hurried on, determined not to be quelled or impeded. 
 " I do love you. It is the truth." 
 
 Virginia was so stunned and crushed and terrified 
 that she was an object of pity. For a moment she sat 
 paralyzed and crouching, merely able to gasp out in a 
 stifled voice, " O Mr. Peyton ! " Then, making a con- 
 vulsive effort, like a person struggling out of a night- 
 mare, she threw upon him a glance which was partly 
 beseeching and partly horror, and strove to rise and es- 
 cape. 
 
 He seized her hand and detained her by force, beg- 
 ging her the while, in some confused stammering or 
 other, to listen to him. 
 
 " I can not — I must not ! " panted Virginia, writhing 
 herself to her feet. " Please let my hand go. I can't 
 let you touch me. I am — married ! " 
 
 " I want one word," he urged, rising also and con- 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 297 
 
 tinuing to hold her, in spite of her pleading accents and 
 piteous expression. 
 
 " I can't — I mustn't hear you ! " she repeated. 
 *' Have pity on me ! Forgive me. I have deceived 
 you. 1 never can look you in the face again. Oh, do 
 have pity on me, and leave me for ever ! " 
 
 " One word ! " insisted Underhill, speaking out of a 
 sudden sense of triumph which made him tyrannical 
 and indifferent to everything but complete and instant 
 domination. " I must know one thing. I have a right 
 to know it, after all that has passed. If you had been 
 free, could I have hoped ? " 
 
 Virginia broke loose from him, covered her face 
 with both her hands, and burst into a loud, hysterical 
 sobbing. It was a very terrible moment of humiliation, 
 and of extorted though inarticulate confession. How- 
 ever wayward and unwise her life may have been since 
 her marriage, she was, in that abasing and torturing 
 moment, abundantly punished. 
 
 " My dear young lady," murmured the husband, with 
 extreme tenderness — the tenderness of sudden compunc- 
 tion as well as of profound love — " my dear and good 
 little girl, you are free to accept me." 
 
 "What do you mean?" asked Virginia, uncovering 
 her face and looking straight at him through her tears, 
 as frankly as a child. " You don't know about me. 
 What do you know ? " 
 
 " I know a great deal," he replied, breaking into a 
 laugh of happiness. " I know that my wife loves her 
 husband ! " 
 
 She stared at him in utter stupefaction, while he 
 caught one of her hands and covered it with kisses. 
 Then she abruptly sprang away from him, ran to the 
 
298 TEE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 door wbicli connected witli the anteroom, tore it open, 
 and called sharply, " General Hilton ! '* 
 
 The General's tall figure and haggard aquiline coun- 
 tenance appeared in the doorway. He looked down 
 upon her with a caressing smile of comprehension, and 
 inquired, " What do you want, Mrs. Underhill ? " 
 
 " Who is this ? " she demanded in a panting voice, 
 throwing her hand toward the supposed Colonel Pey- 
 ton. 
 
 " That is Mr. Henry Edwards Underhill — your hus- 
 band ! " said the General, his smile broadening to a laugh 
 as he shut the door in her face. 
 
 Virginia stood irresolute. She heard her aunt gig- 
 gle in the anteroom, and she recoiled a little from the 
 merriment. Next she became conscious that her hus- 
 band was close by her side, and that there was a sound 
 of a heart beating terribly, either his or hers. She 
 turned impulsively, laid both her hands on his shoulder, 
 and dropped her face between them. 
 
 " Ah, my dear little wife ! " he said with many kiss- 
 es. " Have I won you at last ? " 
 
 Virginia was crying again. She cried a good deal, 
 but she remained in his arms. She lay perfectly quies- 
 cent, resting her whole weight on him, as if she were 
 utterly exhausted. At last she put her mouth softly up 
 to his cheek and kissed him. 
 
 " You belong to me, heart and soul, don't you ? " 
 he whispered. 
 
 "Yes," she whispered back, kissing his lips and 
 clinging there, as Southern in her love as she had been 
 in her hate. 
 
 Then another mercurial change came. She seized 
 both his shoulders, stood off from him at arm's length. 
 
THE BLOODY CHASM. 299 
 
 gazed at him with an air of wonder, and burst into an 
 hysterical laugh. " Oh, you deceiver ! " she exclaimed. 
 "It was a regular Yankee trick. Oh, you darling 
 humbug ! You are perfectly wonderful ! " 
 
 It was clear enough that, when she said " wonder- 
 ful," she did not allude to the trickery, but to the man. 
 Her eyes sparkled with admiration ; she was already 
 worshiping him. Next, she was struggling out of his 
 arms with a panting whisper of " Let me go — they are 
 coming ! " 
 
 In fact, the anteroom-door swung ajar, and Hilton 
 tower^ in the opening, with Mrs. Dumont sniveling 
 happily behind him. 
 
 "We can't hear anything through the key-hole," 
 grinned the General. "We are dying to know how 
 you like it as far as you've got." 
 
 Virginia dashed at him, and embraced him violently, 
 exclaiming : " You dear old traitor ! And my artful 
 aunt, too ! " she added with more kisses. " You are all 
 Yankees together. Oh, what a trick to play on me ! " 
 
 "I knew nothing about it, my child," eagerly ex- 
 plained Mrs. Dumont, who even in that joyous moment 
 could blush under an imputation of Yankeehood. 
 " General Hilton has just told me the secret. But I am 
 truly delighted," she subjoined, pushing toward Under- 
 bill with extended hands. "It is an immense relief — 
 and satisfaction. The ways of God are wonderful," 
 she whimpered, as she fervently exchanged her first kiss 
 with a Yankee. 
 
 Just then an expression of reminiscence, of regret, 
 and of compunction, came into Virginia's face. " Oh, 
 now,^' she sighed, clutching her husband's arms, and 
 looking him sorrowfully in the eyes — " 7iow, I wish we 
 
300 THE BLOODY CHASM. 
 
 had had a public marriage. "What a fool — what a hate- 
 ful fool — I was ! Do forgive me." 
 
 Woman-like, she cared much for the nuptial solemni- 
 ty and parade, and supposed that he too would 
 lament, during life, that the world had not been 
 bidden. 
 
 " But I will make it all up to you," she continued, 
 tightening her grasp on him. " I will be married hence- 
 forth as woman never was. You shall be contented. 
 Trust me ! " 
 
 Presently, Aunt Chloe and Uncle Phil were sum- 
 moned to greet Miss Virginia's husband, and made 
 their entry into the parlor with marvelous courtesying, 
 scraping, and smirking. 
 
 " Is dat ar him ? " demanded the old woman, staring 
 at the newly revealed one, as if he were something 
 extra-human. — " Masr Peyton, is you reely Masr Under- 
 bill ? " she went on, shaking hands. " De Lawd be 
 praised, though he might 'a' fotched it roun' sooner, 
 'pears to me. — I s'pose. Miss Ginny, you's satisfied with 
 him, now you's got him in you' own way. S'pose you's 
 contented, an' feels good, an' grateful. Chick'n nebber 
 so wicked but he thinks grasshopper sent by de Lawd. 
 — An', come to 'fleet on't, Masr, I do b'lieve you's been 
 helped. Hope you'll be helped to stay an' abide, though 
 I'm kinder skeered all the while, too, 'less you should'n'. 
 — Phil, come an' shake hands with him, befo' he disap- 
 peahs." 
 
 "Boss, I'se glad to see ye — I'se mos' powerful 
 glad!" grinned Phil. "I 'specs you'll hole on now a 
 spell, won't you. Boss ? " 
 
 " I hope so, Phil," laughed Underbill, dropping the 
 old man's hand, and taking his wife's. 
 
TEE BLOODY CHASM. 301 
 
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RARE BOOK 
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