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THE SOUTHERN WORLD, JANUARY 15,1884.
THE DeSAUSSURES.
A Historical Romance.
• BV B. K. SAWYER.
CHAPTER XV.—Continued.
Miss Coleman was sorry for the ques
tion, as she felt the little quiver of pain
that thrilled the girl as she heard it. It
was only for a second, and the sweet voice
was steady as her own as Miss Feaster
answered:
“Oh, I have my own Lily—quite a
good little tacky, but not so grand as
Love—Azalia, I mean. She—the mare
you speak of—is not mine.”
“ On, then I am glad of it, for I really
felt a grief for you for having to give such
a pretty creature up,” said Miss Cole
man in a tone too friendly to be offen
sive.
“ I have Lily, and if you will come I
have no doubt we can enjoy the gallon,”
answered the other, without further allu
sion to the mare.
“ Yes, indeed, I shall come, and, more
than that, I shall insist upon you return
ing the visit and spending some time
with me at my home. I live at Rio
Vista, the plantation adjoining La-
Vergne. Do you know, Miss Feaster,
that my sweet mamma has taken quite
a fancy to you. You are so much like
your mother when she knew her. They
were girls together, and mamma is so
anxious to meet your mother again and
renew the old time friendship,” said
Miss Coleman, in a manner that would
have appeared patronizing had it not
been in truth so friendly.
“Thank you. When you come we will
see my mother about it, and she will
know best. I am sure, however, that
she will be glad to see you and to see
your mother. My mamma is quite out
of society, you know—almost out of the
world, as you would say,” smilingly an
swered the girl.
“ Well, so is mamma, as for that. She
cares more for her friendships than for
society, and besides—you must excuse
our impertinence for discussing it—but
mamma has told me so many pleasant
things about Miss Middleton—Mrs. Feas
ter, I mean—that she has made us all
so anxious to know her. I suspect papa
already knows her, as mamjna hail the
honesty to confess that she would have
been jealous if she had not by her sweet
ness disarmed all jealousy and all envy.
I am afraid, though, you will look upon
me as an incorrigible babbler if I tell
yon any more of our home talks, Miss
Feaster.”
“Oh, no; these are very pleasant
things to hear, and I must tell you how
very grateful I feel towards Mrs. Cole
man. She was very kind to me this
evening,” answered the girl.
“ Oh, no; she saw it was all my fault,
and wanted to condone my rudeness,”
replied Miss Coleman.
“ Her interference was very kind, and
I do so thank her for it, and you, too,
Miss Coleman. You were very good to
me.”
And thus having passed the conven
tional formalities so forbidding to a gen
uine friendship, these two girls, so un
fortunately rivals in affection, yet so sin
cere in a mutual regard, walked on
through that moonlit grove, until the
striking of the 10 o’clock bell in the
quarters told them of the lateness of the
hour.
had all called to pay their respects to
the field officers and receive such per
sonal instructions or suggestions as might
be made. Each w’ent away better
pleased than ever with their Colonel and
imbued with something of his enthusi-
CHAPTER XVI.
So thoroughly had Colonel DeSaussure
entered into the spirit as well as the let
ter of organization, that long before the
night of the succeeding day , every detail
of the regimental organization had been
completed. In the arrangement of these
details he was materially assisted by the
quick intelligence, education and execu
tive ability of the youthful Major. His
Lieutenant-Colonel might be relied upon
in the battle, but so far as the duties of
the camp were concerned he knew but
little, and I am sorry to confess, cared
still less.
A regimental surgeon, Dr. Cary, was
selected and properly detailed, and his
name forwarded to the Secretary of War
for appointment. The hospital was ea
tablished and proper stewards detailed
An ordnance sergeant had been detailed
and ordered to report the condition and
number of arms. A roster of the regi
ment was made for the Adjutant, and a
thorough muster of each company made.
Orders were issued for drill and inspec
tion, and regimental dress parade was
ordered that evening. The mornings
were devoted to company and the after
noon to regimental drill. Tiie spirit with
which the Colonel took hold of the mat
ter infused a corresponding vim in the
entire command, and the happiest re
sults followed.
Before noon the first day the officers
asm. , „ . ,
Even Captain Chatham called and a
hearty reconciliation was effected. The
Captain was restored to his command
and the charges withdrawn. Captain
Jackson, at a late hour and with a shab
by grace, so far unbent as to call and
pay his respects, but did not ask for any
suggestions as for duty. He knew his
position too well for that.
The dress parade, with no better mu
sic than the squeaky fife and a still more
inharmonious drum corps, was an awk
ward affair to be sure, but it gave those
who had never before witnessed such a
performance a correct idea of what was
i;o be done, and they would know better
next time. The next day Gass, with his
band, arrived and were duly mustered,
and then began in earnest the work of
drill. The work was a labor of love and
it prospered amazingly, even Shirly’s
awkward squad was redeemed, and in a
surprisingly short while the regiment
had attained a proficiency in drill that
would have commanded applause in a
general review. Colonel DeSaussure and
Major Lawson had dispatched to Mr.
Veal, of Columbia, for the best swords
he had or could get. Also for chevrons
and stars. These had been promptly
forwarded, and now with sasnes ana
flumes there was no disrespect paid for
ack of uniforms. The Quartermaster
had been instructed to procure a regi
mental flag, and had written to his
friend, the Adjutant and Inspector Gen
eral of the State, asking his assistance
in getting one. The letter happened to
be in that officer’s hands when the la
dies of Rio Vista and LaVergne called to
ask his friendly assistance in the same
matter. He showed them the letter and
gave the designs and told them where
and how much bunting to get, and wrote
to Captain McNary that a flag would be
forthcoming provided by the fair hands
of South Carolina’s loveliest daughters.
In the meantime Company K had carried
out a little 2x4 flag that would have to
serve for colors until the colors prepared
by the fair hands, etc., could arrive.
Horses had been kindly loaned by neigh
boring gentlemen until the field and
staff could be mounted from their own
stables.
On the third day after the election the
horses came. They came straggling in
by detachments. First a handsome
black stallion for the Major, a powerful
animal, made for such work as the youth
ful Major had in store for him. Then
an hour later a grinning darkey came
riding a stout, well built sorrel, inquiring
for “Mass Billy.”
“Mass Billy who?” asked the senti
nel who had stopped him at the lines.
“ Mass Billy Norris for sho—don’t you
know Mass Billy, de man wat owns de
wall?”
“Owns the war?”
“Yes, sar. Dis is his hoss—DeSay
Whoa, boy.”
“Oh, its Colonel Norris you w r ant?
Yonder is his quarters. You can pass
on.”
“Yeryou’s, Mass Billy. Golly, I’se
S 'lad ter see him. Yer, Mass Billy, I’se
otched yer hoss. Yer’s DeSay,” cried
the darkey as he caught sight of his
master and spurred up the gallant De-
Saix.
And then, just as the recall for morn
ing drill had been sounded, young Sam
son, with Dick and his precious charge,
came riding in, Samson on a dapplec
mustang, Dick on Pomp and the mare
following.
“Yer’s Mars Frank. I golly dat’
him. I’d know him in a hundred. See
he’s a foot higher ober all dur heads
Bless dat boy, I do lubs ’im shore,’
cried Dick, as catching sight of his young
master, he pulled off his hat and whip
ped up Pomp with it into a trot.
“ Hello, Mars Frank. Yer we is an
dar’s you! I golly, Tom, I’se a comin
too.”
In a moment Tom was by his side, as
were also half the negroes in the camp.
If half the skulkers at home had felt the
same pride and military enthusiasm in
the cause that the negroes in camp did,
the cause of the South would not have
suffered the sad defeat it did.
The young Colonel now advanced to
meet the cortege. His eye first caught
the mare, and a flush of pleasure colored
his cheek. Then a little uneasy wonder,
and he hurried forward. Azalia saw am i
recognized him with a glad whinny 'as
she trotted to meet him. Her recogni
tion of her master was ready and his
greeting so unmistakably glad, that
little cheer broke from the lookers on.
“ I tell you, mon, dat mar’s got sense.
’Tain’t no yuse a talkin’,” commented
the darkies.
The Colonel patted her affectionately
and called her the old pet names, but
his heart was half sick with a nameless
dread.
Colonel DeSaussure, I was employed
by Mr. Feaster to bring Dick and your
horses. I think you will find them all
right. We made the best haste we
could.”
“ Ah, this is Mr. Samson. I am glad
to see you. Yes, they seem to be all
right. But I did not expect the mare.
How came Mr. Feaster to send her?”
asked the Colonel.
“ By order of Mrs. DeSaussure, I sup
pose. I know nothing about it,’’ ex
plained the young man.
“ I am sorry. Have you no letters?”
“ No. Dick I think has one from your
mother.”
“Dick, have you any letters?” he
asked, turning to Dick, who had now
dismounted and was busy handshaking
with the negroes who had gathered
around.
“Oh, yes. Howdy, Mars Frank. I’se
got de letters—I’se got ’em in yere safe
as de bank,” replied Dick, extracting
the bandana from his pocket and un
winding the letters. “Yer’s one from
Missus—de big un—an’ yere, Mass
Frank,” advancing and whispering,
‘yer’s a letter de young lady give me.
She tole me to let no one see it but yo-
sef.”
“ Yes, thank you, Dick, you are a
?ood boy. Now you and Tom take the
tiorBes up to that tent. Tom show him,
and halter them and get up troughs and
see that they are fed. Mr. Samson, will
you please have yours attended to too?
And now if you will excuse me, I will
go in my tent and read my letters,” said
the young Colonel, hurrying back to his
tent,
He scarcely drew the foot curtain be
fore throwing himself on his bunk, he
drew out his letters. *
It was not for lack of a proper filial
regard for his mother that he laid her
more pretentious envelope aside and
opened the little rose scented note of
Miss Feaster. He first kissed the sweet
name and then surprise at its brevity,
his heart began to grow cold and his eye
to stare soulless as he read:
8ir—I send the mare back to you. The sug-
§ cation of commutation is too far beneath the
ignity of a gentleman to have ever been made.
I shall not further humiliate you by permit
ting its discussion. 1 also return you your note.
I need not assure you of my congratulations
upon your preferment and hope that a kind
fortune may hold still prouder honors in store
for you. Respectfully,
To Colonel DeSaussure. Mary Feaster.
And then he mechanically read his
own note, and with a stare as stony as a
dead man’s, he read hers again.
“ What does it mean?” he whispered.
“Does she really despise my gift? I
send your mare back to you. Ah, there
is no mistake about that. In bodily
presence the mare is here. But—the
suggestion of commutation—who could
have made such an infamous suggestion ?
Commutation—I offered none—I did not
want the mare. It was for you, love—
for you. Oh, why have you thus stab
bed me ? By heaven, there is some hell
ish treachery here, some foul dishonor.
I must call Dick and learn what it is.
Ah, here is mother’s letter, perhaps it
can explain. I ought to have read it
first,” and as the drowning man catches
qt a straw, he opened his mother’s and
read:
„ _ „ LaVergne, June 11,1861.
My Dearest Son—1 ou cannot Imagine how
glad your telegram made my heart. I had heard
giau your telegram made my heart. I had heard
of the insult put upon you by Chatham and my
heart was heavy with an everpresent dread lest
you would be subjected to still further humilia
tion. You know not how much I suffered and
can never know. But this gladness almost re
pays me for all. My sweet friend, Drucie, was
with me—she and her mother, when the good
news came, and oh, my son, if you could have
witnessed the gladness that shone in her face
you would no longer doubt the depth and
strength of her affection for you. The dear irirl
is with me to-night, and begs me to remember
going to-morrow to Columbia to get material to
make a ilug for your regiment. Her mother and
1 will go with her. and thou we are going to run
up and see you. We intend fixing uu a neat lit
tle speech lor her and you must be prepared
with something pretty to say in answer We
will finish the hag day after to-morrow, and the
day alter that we will be at Fort Mill. Be so
goodas to secure us r oms at the hotel. Colonel
Coleman will go with us. You must not deny
my motherly heart this little triumph. And
Drucie, too, will feel so proud of the occasion.
I send Dick and your mare. I saw Mr. Feaster
about it and he thought it best to send Azalia
as she was altogether unsuited for a lady Poor
dear Drucie was anxious to send Selim, but was
afraid of ottendiug you. 1 think the Feasters
have acted very well about it. 1 offered to buy
the mare, or at least pay something, but he said
it would make no dittereucc, and he did not
want auy pay. In faet he was displeused with
your gilt at tirst, and had he known it in time
would not have permitted bis daughter to have
some suitable present. I hope you** will be
pleased with what 1 have done, and that I may
soon hold you to my heart again in a long and
loving embrace, 1 am your affectionate mother
_ _ , , „ CATHERINE DESAUSSURE. ’
To Colonel Frank DeSaussure.
“Ah, I see it now. My poor mother.
It is she who has done me this great
harm. Oh, mother, mother! you have
wounded me beyond all cure.” and
crushing his mother’s letter in his 1W
almost fiercely he again opened tiie lit,:’
rose scented note of his lost love « al 6
poor sweet dove how you must have In
the iron quivering in your soul to h.
thftis insulted, outraged, and so innmw
too. It was I who forced the gift
you. Your own sweet heart could K
resist what your womanly sense would
reject. Oh, mother, mother, you hZ
degraded me as nothing can be deerad
ed.” Thus he muttered, almost roared
until the sting of his disgrace had gafi’
ated its venom, and then he went out Z
inspect the mare. A group of officer!
had gathered around and were admiring
the splendid animal.
“Egad, Colonel, that is too fine a mare
to be risked in battle,” said Captain
Horton.
Yes; I must send her back home
She was sent me through a mistake ” he
answered.
“ She is fine enough for a King to ride "
said Lieutenant Dickey. ’
“ Few Kings ever rode as fine a one ”
replied Captain Horton.
“What did she cost you, Colonel?”
asked Lieutenant Awtry.
“ I gave $5,000 for her.”
“ But what stock—I have been trying
to make her out?” asked Captain Ho*
ton, an authority on turf matters.
“ She is full blooded Arabian. Colo
nel Graves imported her direct from Pal
estine. She is not registered,” answered
the Colonel.
“Well, you ought to send her home
She is too fine for the work we will have
to do,” repeated the Captain.
“Yes; I shall send her home. Mr.
Samson, when do you go back?” he ask
ed, turning to the young man.
“ In a day or two. I thought I would
see how I would like soldiering, and
maybe I shall join the boys,” replied
young Samson.
“Very well. You can stay as long
as you please, but I shall have to get
you to carry the mare back home.
There was a mistake in sending her.”
“I will be glad to accommodate you.
She is no trouble. She seemed to know
as well as Dick where we w ere coming,
and knew just as much about the roads.
I tell you what, gentlemen, that mare’s
got as much sense as a nigger,” said
Samson. “Mr. Feaster said he would
send her trappings by the railroad. I
suppose that was all right?”
“ Oh yes, they will come safe enough,"
answered the Colonel.
“ They have already come, Colonel,”
said McNary, “ or at least here is a box
of saddlery or something.”
“ Ah, yes, that is from home. Dick
take charge of it. Is there any charges,
Lieutenant?”
“ Yes, I paid the charges, $.3.”
“Thank you, here is the money.”
Dick, in the meantime, was prying
open the box.
“Yers de saddle all rite, and de nittin’,
an’ yer’s de blanket, an’ yer’s suflin’
ropped in dis sack. Oh, its de bridle.
Mass Frank, yer’s yer fine bridle watde
young lady sent back ter yer,” said Dick,
unwrapping the bridle and holding it up
with a negro’s pride in his master’s glory.
“ Let’s see. Egad, Colonel, that’s a
splendid trick. The women, it. seem9,
are determined to give the Yanks a
shining mark.”
Another pang tore the heart already
bruised and bleeding.
“Yes, that is a fancy bridle. It was
a present from Colonel Adger—altogether
too fine for our service,” he answered,
assuming a steady voice. “Ah, well,
since she no longer values it, it is value
less to me. I shall use it,” he whisper
ed to himself. “ Dick, take charge of
all these things. Lieutenant McNary
will let you have a tent to keep them in
and to sleep. You and the other grooms
had better make a mess together.”
“ Yes, sar; but I won’t make no mess
o’ mine. I’ll keep ’em des as clean as
your boots, sail—see if I don’t.”
“ Yes, I am quite sure you will. T° m
will give you your dinner—and you, Mr.
Samson, will dine with me. You win
be my guest during your stay in camp-
“Thank you, sir, but I have a friend
in the company. If it is all the same to
you, I will stay with him.”
“ Certainly; as you please, only you
must dine with me to-day.”
“ Thank you, sir.” .
“ And I believe Tom has dinner ready
now. We have no ceremony, but eat
when we can get it. So come, sir.’
After dinner the assembly was called
for drill.
“Major Lawson, may I ask you to
drill the regiment this afternoon ? 1 am
not feeling quite well,” he asked. ,
“Certainly, with pleasure,” replied
the. Major, always ready and willing t°
assist him.
When the command had marched out
into the field, and the quarters were de*
sorted, save the guards, the young Colo
nel, with his own hands, saddled in?