About ten o'clock in the morning of October tenth, General Buford, chief of cavalry, set the 6th Pennsylvania Lancers galloping4 after Stuart. Part of the 1st Maine Cavalry joined the chase; but Stuart flourished his heels and cantered gaily5 into Pennsylvania to the amazement6 and horror of that great State, and to the unbounded mortification7 of the union army. He had with him the 1st, 3d, 4th, 5th and 9th Virginia Cavalry; the 7th and 9th North Carolina, and two Legions; and after him went pelting8 the handful that McClellan could mount. A few tired troopers galloped9 up to Whitens Ford2 just as Stuart crossed in safety; and the gain of "chasing" Stuart was over. Never had the efficiency of the union Cavalry been at such a low ebb10; but it was low-water mark, indeed, and matters were destined11 to mend after a history of nearly two years of neglect, disorganisation, and misuse12.
Bayard took over the cavalry south of Washington; Pleasanton collected the 6th Regulars, the 3d Indiana, the 8th New York, the 8th Pennsylvania, and the 8th Illinois, and started in to do mischief13 with brigade head-quarters in the saddle.
The 8th New York went with him, but the 8th New York Lancers, reorganising at Orange Hill, were ordered to recruit the depleted14 regiment15 to twelve companies.
In August, Berkley's ragged16 blue and yellow jacket had been gaily embellished17 with brand-new sergeant's chevrons18; at the Stone Bridge where the infantry19 recoiled20 his troop passed over at a gallop3.
The War Department, much edified21, looked at the cavalry and began to like it. And it was ordered that every cavalry regiment be increased by two troops, L and M. Which liberality, in combination with Colonel Arran's early reports concerning Berkley's conduct, enabled the company tailor to sew a pair of lieutenant's shoulder-straps on Berkley's soiled jacket.
But there was more than that in store for him; it was all very well to authorise two new troops to a regiment, but another matter to recruit them.
Colonel Arran, from his convalescent couch in the North, wrote to
Governor Morgan; and Berkley got his troop, and his orders to go to
New York and recruit it. And by the same mail came the first
letter Ailsa had been well enough to write him since her transfer
North on the transport Long Branch.
He read it a great many times; it was his only diversion while awaiting transportation at the old Hygeia Hotel, where, in company with hundreds of furloughed officers, he slept on the floors in his blanket; he read it on deck, as the paddle-wheeled transport weighed anchor, swung churning under the guns of the great Fortress—so close that the artillerymen on the water-battery could have tossed a biscuit aboard—and, heading north-east, passed out between the capes22, where, seaward, the towering black sides of a sloop23 of war rose, bright work aglitter, smoke blowing fitfully from her single funnel24.
At Alexandria he telegraphed her: "Your letter received, I am on my way North," and signed it with a thrill of boyish pride: "Philip O. Berkley-Arran, Capt. Cavalry, U. S. V."
To his father he sent a similar telegram from the Willard in Washington; wasted two days at the State, War, and Navy for an audience with Mr. Stanton, and finally found himself, valise in hand, waiting among throngs25 of officers of all grades, all arms of the service, for a chance to board his train.
And, as he stood there, he felt cotton-gloved fingers fumbling27 for the handle of his valise, and wheeled sharply, and began to laugh.
"Where the devil did you come from, Burgess? Did they give you a furlough?"
"Yes, Captain."
"Well, you got more than I. What's the matter; do you want to carry my bag?"
"Yes, sir."
"You don't have to."
"No, Captain. . . . If you don't object, sir, I'll carry it."
They found seats together; Philip, amused, tried to extract from Burgess something besides the trite28 and obvious servant's patter—something that might signify some possibility of a latent independence—the germ of aspiration29. And extracted nothing. Burgess had not changed, had not developed. His ways were Philip's ways; his loftier flights mounted no higher toward infinity30 than the fashions prevailing31 in the year 1862, and their suitability to his master's ultimate requirements.
For his regiment, for its welfare, its hopes, its glory, he apparently32 cared nothing; nor did he appear to consider the part he had borne in its fluctuating fortunes anything to be proud of.
Penned with the others in the brush field, he had done stolidly33 what his superiors demanded of him; and it presently came out that the only anxiety that assailed34 him was when, in the smoke of the tangled35 thickets36, he missed his late master.
"Well, what do you propose to do after the regiment is mustered37 out?" inquired Philip curiously38.
"Wait on you, sir."
"Don't you want to do anything else?"
"No, sir."'
Philip looked at him, smiling.
"I suppose you like my cigars, and my brandy and my linen39?"
The ghost of .a grin touched the man's features.
"Yes, sir," he said with an impudence40 that captivated Philip.
"All right, my friend; I can stand it as long as you can. . . . And kindly41 feel in my overcoat for a cigar wrapped in paper. I'll go forward and smoke for a while."
"Sir?"
"The cigar—I put it in my overcoat pocket wrapped in a bit of paper. . . . You—you don't mean to tell me that it's not there!"
Burgess searched the pockets with a perfectly42 grave face.
"It ain't here; no, sir."
Philip flung himself into the corner of his seat, making no effort to control his laughter:
"Burgess," he managed to say, "the dear old days are returning already. I'll stay here and read; you go forward and smoke that cigar. Do you hear?"
"Yes, sir."
Again, just as he had done every day since leaving camp, he reread Ailsa's letter, settling down in his corner by the dirty, rattling43 window-pane:
"Everybody writes to you except myself. I know they have told you that it is taking a little longer for me to get well than anybody expected. I was terribly tired. Your father has been so sweet; everybody has been good to me—Celia, poor little Camilla, and Stephen. I know that they all write to you; and somehow I have been listlessly contented44 to let them tell you about home matters, and wait until my strength returned. But you must not doubt where every waking memory of mine has centred; my thoughts have circled always around that central vortex from which, since I first laid eyes on you, they have never strayed.
"Home news is what all good soldiers want; I write for you all I know:
"The city is the same hot, noisy, dirty, dusty, muddy, gridiron, changed in nowise except that everywhere one sees invalid45 soldiers; and there are far too many officers lounging about, presumably on furlough—too many Captain Dash's, twirling black moustaches in front of fashionable hotels. There are no powder stains on their uniforms, no sun-burn on their cheeks. They throng26 the city; and it is a sinister46 phenomenon.
"I think Broadway was never as lively, never quite as licentious47. Those vivid cafes, saloons, concert halls, have sprung up everywhere; theatres, museums, gardens are in full blast; shops are crowded, hotels, street cars, stages overflowing48 with careless, noisy, overdressed people. The city is en fete; and somehow when I think of that Dance of Death thundering ceaselessly just south of us, it appalls49 me to encounter such gaiety and irresponsibility in the streets.
"Yet, after all, it may be the safety-valve of a brave people. Those whirling daily in the Dance of Death have, at least, the excitement to sustain them. Here the tension is constant and terrible; and the human mind cannot endure too much tragedy.
". . . They say our President fits a witticism50 to the tragedy of every battle-field; but it may be to preserve his own reason through these infernal years. He has the saddest eyes of any man since the last Martyr51 died.
"England behaves badly. It was her God-given opportunity to stand by us. She has had chance after chance since the last patriot52 died from lack of food and air in this sad old city of New York. . . . The Prince Consort53 is kind; his wife is inclined to be what he is. Napoleon is the sinister shape behind the arras; and the Tory government licks his patent-leather boots. Vile54 is the attitude of England, vile her threats, her sneers55, her wicked contempt of a great people in agony. Her murderous government, bludgeon in hand, stands snarling56 at us in Mexico; her ministers glare at us from every war port; her press mocks in infamous57 caricature our unhappy President; only her poor are with us—the poor of England whom our war is starving. Again and again we have forgiven her. But now, standing58 on our blood-wet battle-fields, can we ever again forgive?
"You have heard from your family and from Celia, so what news I write may be no news. Yet I know how it is with soldiers; they never tire of such repetitions.
"Your father is slowly recovering. But he will never sit his saddle again, dear. Don't expect it; the war is over as far as he is concerned. But never have my eyes beheld59 such happiness, such gratitude60, such adoration61 as I see in his eyes when your letters come. I think the burden of his conversation is you. I never hear him speak of anything else. Your father walks now; and by the time you are here he will be able to drive on Fifth Avenue and in the new Central Park. But he is not the man who left this city at the head of his regiment. His hair and moustache are white as snow; there are a thousand tiny wrinkles on his hands and features. All that heavy colour is gone; only a slight flush remains62 on his thin face. He is very handsome, Phil. Once, never dreaming of what was true, I thought he resembled you. Do you recollect63 my saying so once? Even you would recognise the likeness64 now. He is absorbed, wrapped up in you. . . . I can see, now, that he always has been. How blind we are! How blind!
"Celia, the darling, has not changed one particle. She is the prettiest thing you ever saw, cheerful, clever, courageous65, self-possessed, devoted66 to Stephen, whose leave has been extended and who plays the role of a pale and interesting invalid hero with placid67 satisfaction to himself, adored and hovered68 over by Paige and Marye and all their girl friends. But when poor little Camilla, in her deep mourning, appears at the door, he clears out the others with a tyranny characteristic of young men; and I'm somewhat sorry for his mother and sisters. But it's the inevitable69; and Camilla is the sweetest thing.
"Celia hears often from Curt70, Poor Major Lent! It seems too hard that Camilla should be left so utterly71 alone in the world. The Major died as he would have wished to die, Curt writes. It was at that terrible Stone Bridge—where God was merciful to me when your squadron galloped across.
"He was found, seated against a tree, stone dead, one hand stiffened72 over the Mexican war medal at his throat. Curt says his face was calm, almost smiling. Camilla has his sword and medals.
"Did you know that your friend John Casson was dead? I was with him; I did not know he was a friend of yours. He displayed the same patience, the same desire not to be troublesome that so many badly wounded do.
"Letty asked me to say that a zouave of the 5th Regiment, a Mr. Cortlandt, was also killed. So many, many people I knew or had heard of have been killed or have died of disease since the war began. One sees a great many people wearing mourning in the city—crape is so common, on sword-hilts, on arms, veils, gowns, bonnets73.
"Letty made the loveliest bride you or I ever beheld. Usually brides do not look their best, but Letty was the most charming, radiant, bewildering creature—and so absurdly young—as though suddenly she had dropped a few years and was again beginning that girlhood which I sometimes thought she had never had.
"Dr. Benton is a darling. He looks twenty years younger and wears a monocle! They are back from their honeymoon74, and are planning to offer their services to the great central hospital at Philadelphia.
"Dear, your letter breaking the news to me that Marye Mead75 was burned when the cavalry burned Edmund Ruffin's house was no news to me. I saw it on fire. But, Philip, there was a fiercer flame consuming me than ever swept that house. I thank God it Is quenched76 for ever and that my heart and soul, refreshed, made new, bear no scars now of that infernal conflagration77.
"I sit here at my window and see below me the folds of the dear flag stirring; in my ears, often, is the noise of drums from the dusty avenue where new regiments78 are passing on into the unknown—no longer the unknown to us—but the saddest of all truths.
"Sometimes Celia comes from the still, leafy seclusion79 of Fort Greene Place, to love me, caress80 me, gently jeer81 at me for the hint of melancholy82 in my gaze, shaming me for a love-sick thing that droops83 and pines in the absence of all that animates84 her soul and body with the desire to live.
"She is only partly right; I am very tired, Phil. Not that I am ill. I am well, now. It only needs you. She knows it; I have always known it. Your love, and loving you, is all that life means to me.
"I see them all here—Celia fussing with my trousseau, gowns, stockings, slippers85, hovering86 over them with Paigie and Marye in murmurous87 and intimate rapture88. They lead me about to shops and in busy thoroughfares; and I see and understand, and I hear my own voice as at an infinite distance, and I am happy in the same indefinite way. But, try as I may, I cannot fix my thoughts on what I am about, on the pretty garments piled around me, on the necessary arrangements to be made, on the future—our future! I cannot even think clearly about that. All that my mind seems able to contain is my love for you, the knowledge that you are coming, that I am to see you, touch you.
"I try to realise that I am to be your wife; the heavenly reality seems vaguely89 impossible. Yet every moment I am schooling90 myself to the belief, telling myself that it is to be, repeating the divine words again and again. And all I am capable of understanding is that I love you, and that the world stands still, waiting for you as I wait; and that without you nothing is real, and I move in a world of phantoms91.
"I have been to the mirror to look at myself. To be certain, I also asked Celia. She says that you will not be disappointed.
"She sat here searching the morning paper for news of her husband's regiment, but found none. What women endure for men no man that ever lives can understand.
"She is perfectly cheerful about it all. And, oh, such a rebel!
She read aloud to me with amused malice92 the order from the War
Department which does away with regimental bands and substitutes a
brigade band.
"I sca'cely blame them,' she observed; 'I'd be ve'y glad myse'f to hear less of Yankee Doodle and the Star-spangled Banner. When they let President Davis alone, and when Curt comes home, I've got some ve'y pretty songs fo' him to learn to appreciate.'
"She's down stairs now, seated at the piano, singing very softly to herself some gaily impudent93 rebel song or other. I know it's a rebel song by the way she sings it.
"And, as I sit here, alone, thinking of how I love you—far away I hear the 'old line's bugle'—the quaint94, quick rhythm of the fifes and drums; and it stirs depths in me where my very soul lies listening—and the tears spring to my eyes. And I try to understand why every separate silver star in the flag is mine to hold, mine to rescue and replace, mine to adore. And I try to understand why all of it is part of the adoration of you, and of God who gave you to me—Philip—Philip—my lover, my country, my God—worshipped and adored of men!"
THE END
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1
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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pelting
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| 微不足道的，无价值的，盛怒的 | |
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galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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misuse
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| n.误用，滥用；vt.误用，滥用 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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depleted
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| adj. 枯竭的, 废弃的 动词deplete的过去式和过去分词 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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embellished
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| v.美化( embellish的过去式和过去分词 )；装饰；修饰；润色 | |
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chevrons
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| n.（警察或士兵所佩带以示衔级的）∧形或∨形标志( chevron的名词复数 ) | |
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infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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recoiled
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| v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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edified
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| v.开导，启发( edify的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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capes
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| 碎谷； 斗篷( cape的名词复数 )； 披肩； 海角； 岬 | |
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sloop
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| n.单桅帆船 | |
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funnel
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| n.漏斗；烟囱；v.汇集 | |
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throngs
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| n.人群( throng的名词复数 )v.成群，挤满( throng的第三人称单数 ) | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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trite
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| adj.陈腐的 | |
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aspiration
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| n.志向，志趣抱负；渴望；(语)送气音；吸出 | |
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infinity
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| n.无限，无穷，大量 | |
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prevailing
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| adj.盛行的；占优势的；主要的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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stolidly
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| adv.迟钝地，神经麻木地 | |
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assailed
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| v.攻击( assail的过去式和过去分词 )；困扰；质问；毅然应对 | |
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tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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mustered
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| v.集合，召集，集结（尤指部队）( muster的过去式和过去分词 )；（自他人处）搜集某事物；聚集；激发 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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licentious
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| adj.放纵的，淫乱的 | |
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overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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appalls
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的第三人称单数 ) | |
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witticism
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| n.谐语，妙语 | |
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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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patriot
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| n.爱国者，爱国主义者 | |
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consort
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| v.相伴；结交 | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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sneers
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| 讥笑的表情（言语）( sneer的名词复数 ) | |
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snarling
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的现在分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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adoration
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| n.爱慕，崇拜 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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bonnets
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| n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 )；（烟囱等的）覆盖物；（苏格兰男子的）无边呢帽；（女子戴的）任何一种帽子 | |
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honeymoon
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| n.蜜月（假期）；vi.度蜜月 | |
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mead
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| n.蜂蜜酒 | |
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quenched
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| 解（渴）( quench的过去式和过去分词 )； 终止（某事物）； （用水）扑灭（火焰等）； 将（热物体）放入水中急速冷却 | |
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conflagration
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| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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jeer
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| vi.嘲弄，揶揄；vt.奚落；n.嘲笑，讥评 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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droops
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的名词复数 ) | |
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animates
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| v.使有生气( animate的第三人称单数 )；驱动；使栩栩如生地动作；赋予…以生命 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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murmurous
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| adj.低声的 | |
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rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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schooling
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| n.教育；正规学校教育 | |
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phantoms
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| n.鬼怪，幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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impudent
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| adj.鲁莽的，卑鄙的，厚颜无耻的 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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