One relief the Cleveland administration had brought Hambright—a decent citizen in charge of the post-office. Dave Haley had given place to a Democrat1 and was now scheming and working with McLeod for the “salvation” of it the state, which of course meant for the old slave trader the restoration of his office under a Republican administration. If the South had held no other reason for hating the Republican party, the character of the men appointed to Federal office was enough to send every honest man hurrying into the opposite party without asking any questions as to its principles.
Sam Love, the new postmaster was a jovial3, honest, lazy, good-natured Democrat whose ideal of a luxurious4 life was attained5 in his office. He handed Gaston his mail with a giggle6.
“What’s the matter with you, Sam?”
“Nuthin’ ‘tall. I just thought I’d tell you that I like her handwriting,” he laughed.
“How dare you study the handwriting on my letters, sir!”
“What’s the use of being postmaster? There ain’t no big money in it. I just take pride in the office,” said Sam genially7. “That’s a new one, ain’t it?”
Gaston looked at the letter incredulously. It was a new one,—a big square envelope with a seal on the back of it, addressed to him in the most delicate feminine hand, and postmarked “Independence.”
“Great Scott, this is interesting,” he cried, breaking the seal.
When the postmaster saw he was going to open it right there in the office, he stepped around in front and looking over his shoulder said, “What is it, Charlie?”
“It’s an invitation from the Ladies’ Memorial Association to deliver the Memorial day oration2 at Independence the 10th of May. That’s great. No money in it, but scores of pretty girls, big speech, congratulations, the lion of the hour! Don’t you wish you were really a man of brains, Sam?”
“No, no, I’m married. It would be a waste now.”
“Sam, I ’ll be there. Got the biggest speech of my life all cocked and primed, full of pathos8 and eloquence,—been working on it at odd times for four years. They ’ll think it a sudden inspiration.”
“What’s the name of it?”
“The Message of the New South to the Glorious Old.”
“That sounds bully9, that ought to fetch ’em.”
“It will, my boy, and when Dave Haley gets this postoffice away from you in the dark days coming, I ’ll publish that speech in a pamphlet, and you can peddle10 it at a quarter and make a good living for your children.”
“Don’t talk like that, Gaston, that isn’t funny at all. You don’t think the Radicals11 have got any chance?”
“Chance! Between you and me they ’ll win.”
Sam went back to the desk without another word, a great fear suddenly darkening the future. McLeod had gotten off the same joke on him the day before. It sounded ominous12 coming from both sides like that. He took up his party paper, “The Old Timer’s Gazette” and read over again the sure prophecies of victory and felt better.
Gaston accepted the invitation with feverish13 haste. He had it all ready to put in the office for the return mail to Independence. But he was ashamed to appear in such a hurry, so he held the letter over until the next day. He proudly showed the invitation to Mrs. Durham.
“What do you think of that, Auntie?”
“Immense. You will meet Miss Sallie sure. That letter is in her handwriting. She’s the Secretary of the Association and signed the Committee’s names.”
“You don’t say that’s the great and only one’s handwriting!”
“Couldn’t be mistaken. It has a delicate distinction about it. I’d know it anywhere.”
“It is beautiful,” acknowledged Gaston looking thoughtfully at the letter.
“I wish you had a new suit, Charlie.”
“I wouldn’t mind it myself, if I had the money. But clothes don’t interest me much, just so I’m fairly decent.”
“I ’ll loan you the money, if you will promise me to devote yourself faithfully to Sallie.”
“Never. I ’ll not sell my interest in all those acres of pretty girls just for one I never saw and a suit of clothes. No thanks. I’m going down there with a premonition I may find Her of whom I’ve dreamed. They say that town is full of beauties.”
“You’re so conceited14. That’s all the more reason you should look your best.”
“I don’t care so much about looks. I’m going to do my best, whatever I look.”
“Oh, you know you’re good looking and you don’t care,” said his foster mother with pride.
On the 10th of May Independence was in gala robes. The long rows of beautiful houses, with dark blue grass lawns on which giant oaks spread their cool arms, were gay with bunting, and with flowers, flowers everywhere! Every urchin15 on the street and every man, woman and child wore or carried flowers.
The reception committee met Gaston at the depot16 on the arrival of the excursion train that ran from Ham-bright. He was placed in an open carriage beside a handsome chattering17 society woman, and drawn18 by two prancing19 horses, was escorted to the hotel, where he was introduced to the distinguished20 old soldiers of the Confederacy.
At ten o’clock the procession was formed. What a sight! It stretched from the hotel down the shaded pavements a mile toward the cemetery21, two long rows of beautiful girls holding great bouquets22 of flowers. This long double line of beauty and sweetness opened, and escorted gravely by the oldest General of the Confederacy present, he walked through this mile of smiling girls and flowers. Behind him tramped the veterans, some with one arm, some with wooden legs.
When they passed through, the double line closed, and two and two the hundreds of girls carried their flowers in solemn procession. Here was the throbbing23 soul of the South, keeping fresh the love of her heroic dead.
They spread out over the great cemetery like a host of ministering angels. There was a bugle24 call. They bent25 low a moment, and flowers were smiling over every grave from the greatest to the lowliest.
And then to a stone altar marked “To the Unknown Dead,” they came and heaped up roses. Then a group of sad-faced women dressed in black, with quaint26 little bonnets27 wreathing their brows like nuns28, went silently over to the National Cemetery across the way and each taking a basket, walked past the long lines of the dead their boys had fought and dropped a single rose on every soldier’s grave. They were women whose boys were buried in strange lands in lonely unmarked trenches29. They were doing now what they hoped some woman’s hand would do for their lost heroes.
The crowd silently gathered around the speakers’ stand and took their seats in the benches placed beneath the trees.
Gaston had never seen this ceremony so lavishly30 and beautifully performed before. He was overwhelmed with emotion. His father’s straight soldierly figure rose before him in imagination, and with him all the silent hosts that now bivouacked with the dead. His soul was melted with the infinite pathos and pity of it all.
He had intended to say some sharp epigrammatic things that would cut the chronic31 moss-backs that cling to the platforms on such occasions. But somehow when he began they were melted out of his speech. He spoke32 with a tenderness and reverence33 that stilled the crowd in a moment like low music.
His tribute to the dead was a poem of rhythmic34 and exalted35 thoughts. The occasion was to him an inspiration and the people hung breathless on his words. His voice was never strained but was penetrated36 and thrilled with thought packed until it burst into the flame of speech. He felt with conscious power his mastery of his audience. He was surprised at his own mood of extraordinary tenderness as he felt his being softened37 by that oldest religion of the ages, the worship of the dead—as old as sorrow and as everlasting38 as death! He was for the moment clay in the hands of some mightier39 spirit above him.
He had spoken perhaps fifteen minutes when suddenly, straight in front of him, he looked into the face of the One Woman of all his dreams!
There she sat as still as death, her beautiful face tense with breathless interest, her fluted40 red lips parted as if half in wonder, half in joy, over some strange revelation, and her great blue eyes swimming in a mist of tears. He smiled a look of recognition into her soul and she answered with a smile that seemed to say “I’ve known you always. Why haven’t you seen me sooner?” He recognised her instantly from Mrs. Durham’s description and his heart gave a cry of joy. From that moment every word that he uttered was spoken to her. Sometimes as he would look straight through her eyes into her soul, she would flush red to the roots of her brown-black hair, but she never lowered her gaze. He closed his speech in a round of applause that was renewed again and again.
His old classmate, Bob St. Clare, rushed forward to greet him.
“Old fellow, you’ve covered yourself with glory. By George, that was great! Come, here’s a hundred girls want to meet you.”
He was introduced to a host of beauties who showered him with extravagant41 compliments which he accepted without affectation. He knew he had outdone himself that day, and he knew why. The One Woman he had been searching the world for was there, and inspired him beyond all he had ever dared before.
He was disappointed in not seeing her among the crowd who were shaking his hand. He looked anxiously over the heads of those near by to see if she had gone. He saw her standing42 talking to two stylishly43 dressed young men.
When the crowd had melted away from the rostrum, she walked straight toward him extending her hand with a gracious smile.
He knew he must look like a fool, but to save him he could not help it, he was simply bubbling over with delight as he grasped her hand, and before she could say a word he said, “You are Miss Sallie Worth, the Secretary of the Association. My foster mother has described you so accurately44 I should know you among a thousand.”
“Yes, I have been looking forward with pleasure to our trip to the Springs when I knew we should meet you. I am delighted to see you a month earlier.” She said this with a simple earnestness that gave it a deeper meaning than a mere45 commonplace.
“Do you know that you nearly knocked me off my feet when I first saw you in the crowd?”
“Why? How?” she asked.
“You startled me.”
“I hope not unpleasantly,” she said, looking up at him with her blue eyes twinkling.
“Oh! Heavens no! You are such a perfect image of the girl she described that I was so astonished I came near shouting at the top of my voice, ‘There she is!’ And that would have astonished the audience, wouldn’t it?”
“It would indeed,” she replied blushing just a little.
“But I’m forgetting my mission, Mr. Gaston. Papa sent me to apologise for his absence to-day. He was called out of the city on some mill business. He told me to bring you home to dine with him. I’m the Secretary, you know and exercise authority in these matters, so I’ve fixed46 that programme. You have no choice. The carriage is waiting.”
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1
democrat
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| n.民主主义者，民主人士；民主党党员 | |
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oration
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| n.演说，致辞，叙述法 | |
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jovial
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| adj.快乐的，好交际的 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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5
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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6
giggle
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| n.痴笑，咯咯地笑；v.咯咯地笑着说 | |
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7
genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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8
pathos
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| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
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9
bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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10
peddle
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| vt.(沿街)叫卖，兜售；宣传，散播 | |
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11
radicals
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| n.激进分子( radical的名词复数 )；根基；基本原理；[数学]根数 | |
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12
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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13
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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conceited
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| adj.自负的，骄傲自满的 | |
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15
urchin
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| n.顽童；海胆 | |
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depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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17
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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18
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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19
prancing
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| v.（马）腾跃( prance的现在分词 ) | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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21
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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bouquets
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| n.花束( bouquet的名词复数 )；（酒的）芳香 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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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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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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28
nuns
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| n.（通常指基督教的）修女， （佛教的）尼姑( nun的名词复数 ) | |
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29
trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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lavishly
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| adv.慷慨地，大方地 | |
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chronic
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| adj.(疾病)长期未愈的，慢性的；极坏的 | |
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32
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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33
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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37
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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38
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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39
mightier
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| adj. 强有力的，强大的，巨大的 adv. 很，极其 | |
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40
fluted
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| a.有凹槽的 | |
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41
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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42
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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43
stylishly
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| adv.时髦地，新式地 | |
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44
accurately
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| adv.准确地，精确地 | |
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45
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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46
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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