House Divided (105 page)

“Hear what?” she asked then.

“About poor General Van Dorn?”

“Who is he?”

“Don't you remember, he was in the army here in Virginia the first summer. He was terribly handsome, and they say he had dozens of affairs! A man named Dr. Peters shot him! They say Mrs. Peters was in love with General Van Dorn. I think that's terrible, being killed by some old jealous husband!”

“Why, Dolly,” Enid laughed, “young ladies like you aren't supposed to know such things.”

“Oh—figs! Of course we know! Didn't you know such things when you were my age? Lots of wives fall in love with other men besides their husbands!” She cried laughingly: “You don't need to be so prim and proper! I used to see the way you watched Uncle Faunt all the time.”

Enid's cheek crimsoned. “Why, Dolly Streean!”

“Oh you did! You know you did! Mama saw it too. And the way you used to kiss him on the least excuse! I bet you were just pining for him! I bet you still are!”

“Nonsense! I haven't laid eyes on him for months.”

“Honest? Cross your heart and hope to die?”

“Of course. Why?”

“Well, I know he comes to Richmond to see somebody!”

“Really?” Enid had not thought of Faunt for a long time; but suddenly she felt herself wronged. “You mean to tell me——”

“Oh I don't mean to tell you anything; but I do know he's been here! Captain Pew met him once, and other gentlemen have told me they'd seen him. So Mama and I thought maybe you and he——”

“Why, how perfectly horrid!” Yet Enid found the suggestion exciting. Her unsuccessful wooing of Trav during his few days at home had wakened in her longings she could not rouse in him; when he was gone, they turned to bitter anger. If he no longer desired her, then she owed him no loyalty! If he chose to go off to the army and stay away months on end, must she, because he left her alone, remain alone? Perhaps if he thought he had lost her . . .

During the days that followed, her thoughts led her more and more to Dolly, as though the girl, so easily enchanting to every man, knew a secret which she might discover. Besides, it was fun to go to the Streean home. Tilda's household was brightened by Dolly's gaiety and by the affluence war had brought.

Enid went there the day after fire destroyed the machine shops and the boring mills and pattern shops of the Tredegar Iron Works, where so much of the Confederate artillery was manufactured. Tilda was sure Yankee spies had set the fire. “Because Richmond's full of them, you know. Like old Miss Van Lew. She doesn't even pretend not to hate the Confederacy. If I were President Davis I'd send her North where she belongs.”

“I thought spies were hung,” Enid protested; and Tilda said:

“No, just the men. There was one named Webster, right in the War Department. He and his wife were both convicted. He'd killed some people too, they say. Anyway, they decided to hang him, but they sent Mrs. Webster through the lines to Washington.” And Tilda said spitefully: “But I think women spies are the worst, making love
to the soldiers, and getting all they can out of them. I'd hang the ladies as quick as I would the men. Of course Miss Van Lew probably isn't really a spy, because everyone knows she hates us, so they watch her all the time; but I'd get rid of her all the same.”

They were still discussing Miss Van Lew and other known or suspected Union sympathizers in Richmond when Dolly and her father arrived together. Dolly was beautifully excited because she had met General Lee.

“He's so handsome he just looks like God!” she declared. “I was with Mrs. Brownlaw, Mama. You know she's Mrs. Lee's forty-second cousin or something, always bragging about ‘my Cousin Robert.' She saw him coming along Broad Street and sort of ran to meet him, and he bowed, and she practically patted him and told him his beard made him look older than he was—it's all gray, you know—and he smiled and she said if she were Cousin Mary—that's Mrs. Lee, you know—she'd make him get rid of it the moment the war was over.” Dolly drew a great breath of awe. “And then he looked so stern and sad, and he said: ‘Mrs. Brownlaw'—I noticed he didn't call her Cousin! ‘Mrs. Brownlaw, when the war is over they may take my beard, and my head with it if they choose!' ”

Enid asked: “But did you actually meet him, Dolly?”

“Yes I did! Mrs. Brownlaw named him to me, and he bowed and paid me some compliment, and the blood was pounding in my ears so I couldn't even hear him, and I just stood there with my mouth open, and he walked away. Oh, he's so wonderful!”

Streean said, as though he were in the inner councils: “General Lee came with Stuart to see Mr. Seddon. Secretary Seddon wants him to send Pickett's division to Mississippi to try to save Vicksburg; but General Lee says it's a question of defending either Virginia or Mississippi; and Lee's a Virginian, so to him Virginia comes first.” And he added, like an oracle: “That's the trouble with the South. Every state is more anxious to keep its troops at home than to send soldiers to Lee. Two years ago, when twenty thousand well-armed men would have been enough, with the army we had, to capture Washington, there were a hundred and fifty thousand state troops not even in the field. Georgia, Louisiana, the Carolinas, Texas, all of them kept their men—and their weapons—at home. And in spite of conscription it's almost
as bad today. Lee has seventy-five thousand men, but the states could send him that many more, easily enough. He beat Hooker with fifty thousand, and Hooker had three times his force. He could take Washington and Philadelphia in a month if the states would give him their militia.”

He spoke so strongly that no one heard the front door open till Darrell from the hall called in derisive approval: “Hear! Hear! Get up on your platform, Pa! Never heard such eloquence.” As he came into the room, Tilda and Dolly ran to welcome him, and he took their kisses and challenged Enid. “No kiss for your handsome nephew?” She laughed and went to him. She had always liked this audacious youngster. She kissed his cheek and said:

“There!”

“Hold on!” he protested. “If it's worth doing, it's worth doing well!” His arms swept her close, his lips found hers not resisting.

When she freed herself, Dolly whispered in her ear: “That's the way you kiss Uncle Faunt!” She and Dolly laughed together, but Enid felt her pulses thud. She listened while Darrell answered his father's questions, something about sending cotton to New Orleans. He spoke of Mr. Clark and Mr. Ford in Mobile, of Governor Pettus, of Mr. Josephs; he said a certain Mr. Ranney had refused to carry the cotton on his railroad till General Pemberton threatened to seize the railroad if he refused.

“I arranged the authorization to the General from President Davis,” Streean explained. “I trust the agreed amount of salt was delivered in exchange?”

“Oh yes. Minus our commission, of course.” Darrell said he had gone three times to New Orleans, had collected cotton in Mississippi and Alabama and seen it on its way to Yankee hands. “I'll go over the accounts with you later; but we haven't wasted our time, be sure of that.”

“We'll have to share the profits with others,” Streean reminded him. “We're not the only ones in this business now. The Secretary has Mr. Crenshaw operating. The Government's going to buy five thousand bales of cotton for him to handle. Davenport and Company of Mobile raised Cain over the thousand bales General Buckner let you ship, because
they weren't allowed to ship any; and there's an import and export company being formed in Savannah to get into the trade.”

“We've skimmed the cream,” Darrell said. “The fun's almost over. Georgia's practically taken herself out of the Confederacy, and North Carolina's climbing on her high horse too. Harvey Hill wants more conscripts, and Governor Vance refuses to call them away from their crops.”

“I saw a letter from General Hill today. Something about ‘organized factions.' What's he talking about?”

Darrell smiled. “Did you ever hear of a red and white cord?”

“No. What about it?”

Darrell's eyes met Enid's and she thought how nice he was, and how wickedly handsome. And he certainly was no longer a boy; there was a wise maturity about him. After all, he was not so very much younger than she, a few years, not enough to matter. He went into the hall and returned with a cane in his hand. “Ever see a man do this?” he asked, and tapped three times on the toe of his right foot.

“No,” Streean admitted.

“Well,” Darrell explained, “if business takes you to Alabama and a man catches your eye and does that, and you say to him: ‘I dreamed the boys are coming home,' he'll be your friend.”

Dolly cried delightedly: “Oh Darrell, that's simply thrilling. I love secrets. Go on.”

He grinned, shook his head. “Can't tell you, Sis. After you know a thing, it's no longer a secret.”

Sally, the Negro maid, came with languorously swaying hips to set out small tables for the supper trays, and Enid exclaimed: “Heavens, I didn't realize it was so late! I'll have to run.” But Tilda said of course she must stay, and Enid protested that she couldn't go home through dark streets, and Darrell promised to escort her, and she stayed. When the supper—cups of real coffee, hot biscuits of white flour, toasted sandwiches, and sugar and cream—had been set before them, Darrell said: “But I'll tell you all this much. There's a Peace Society in Alabama and Georgia.”

“Tom Watts spoke of it last year,” Streean assented. “But he was pretty vague about it.”

“It's still vague; but it's growing. All the small farmers hate the
conscription, and they hate the impressment laws. The officers take their wagons and horses and beef cattle and supplies at government prices and then sell them at a profit.” Streean smiled, and Darrell said: “Oh I know we approve, but the farmers hate it all the same; and they hate the tax-in-kind.” He threw Enid one of those quick glances which made her pulses quicken. “They say the rich people don't pay taxes, and that this whole tax-in-kind comes on the farmers.”

Streean laughed. “The moral is: Don't be a farmer!”

Darrell grinned. “I don't know much about morals.” Enid colored under his eyes, as though his word were meant for her alone. “What people call morals are usually just reasons why you mustn't do what you want to do. By the way, Mama, speaking of morals, I stopped at Chimneys. Uncle Tony's spruced up till you wouldn't know him. He has a pretty bright mulatto wench——”

Tilda cried out indignantly: “Darrell! Hush! How can you say such a thing before Dolly and Aunt Enid! I'm ashamed of you!”

But Dolly laughed and elaborately put her hands over her ears. “Go on, Dal! I promise not to hear a word. Enid, don't you dare listen.” Enid smilingly covered her ears, too; but she thought that bright must be Sapphira, whom Tony had bought back from Mrs. Pettigrew.

Streean said drily: “Don't worry, Tilda. If it were true, Darrell would have stayed on at Chimneys.”

“I didn't see her,” Darrell admitted. “Uncle Tony kept her out of sight. I couldn't stop then, so I'm going back. Richmond's no place for me anyway, with even the Public Guard playing at soldiering.”

“You might as well stay here,” Streean told him. “Details are easily arranged, and a lot of clever clerks are getting rich by helping their friends get hold of government supplies.” He added frankly: “I prefer less risk, so I keep inside the law; but risk never frightened you.”

 

The talk ran on till Enid at last said she must go. Darrell, as he had promised, walked to Clay Street with her. The moon was fine, the night was still and warm, and he was a gay companion. At her door he paused for a word or two, and, half-frightened by her own daring, she invited him in. “Peter and Lucy will want to hear all about your adventures.”

But he said laughingly that some of his adventures were not for
youthful ears. “And the night's too fine to go indoors. I shall take a stroll through the town.”

She wished he would suggest she keep him company on that stroll; but of course even if he suggested such a thing she must refuse. “Well then, good night,” she said. “It's nice to have you home again.”

“You made my welcome perfect,” he assured her, and lightly kissed her lips; and before she could speak he turned away.

She was left by that kiss in a turmoil and a shaking storm. She moved toward the door, and paused, and pressed her hands to her hot cheeks, and listened to his receding footsteps, and laughed to herself in a breathless way. “Thank goodness he didn't come in!” she whispered. “What's the matter with me?” The door, since in these days more and more marauders prowled the Richmond streets, was locked and on the chain. She had to ring to be admitted to the sanctuary of her home.

She hoped Darrell would call upon her next day, but he did not; and she warned herself not to be an idiot. Why should he? She was old enough to be his mother! Yet she looked forward, half in fear and half in longing, to their next encounter. Once or twice, hoping for some word of his movements, she spoke of him to Dolly; and when a week and then ten days had passed, she came at last to a direct question. “Where's Darrell keeping himself? I haven't seen him since he got home?”

“Oh, he spends most of his time in bed, sleeps all day and prowls the town all night. He saw Uncle Faunt for a minute, the day after he came home. Did you?”

“No! Why should I?”

“Neither did Aunt Cinda,” Dolly said. “I know because I asked her. Where do you suppose he goes?”

“Why should I suppose anything about it?”

Dolly smiled. “I'm sure I don't know, darling,” she drawled. “Oh, Aunt Cinda says Julian and Anne Tudor are going to be married next week or the week after.”

“I know, yes. I should think they'd at least wait till Grandma Currain was cold!”