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THE SOUTHERN WORLD, JANUARY 15,1885.
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had come back to their cottage as
Thornhill. Colonel Coleman, anxious
to keep them as neighbors had consent
ed to tne sale of the cottage and outlying
groves and Judge Middleton had bought
it for his daughter.
The refugee guests of LaVergne and
Bio Vista had dispersed, finding estab
lishments of their own. Mrs. Beau
champ had leased LaRue and with her
family was keeping open house to her
friends. Mrs. Branson still occupied
the petite mansion at LaVergne. Mrs.
Walker oscillated between her and her
friends the Colemans, with an occasional
week at LaVergne. Colonel Lawson
had long ago returned to his command,
still hugging more fondly than ever the
sweet hope that gladdened his heart.
The war had began to lose its excite
ment and newB from the front was not
so enthusiastically listened for, and
altogether things were beginning to set
tle down into their normal humdrum
routine again. Mrs. DeSaussure heard
frequently from her son. He had par
ticipated in the brilliant affair at Lees
burg, but with that exception the ser
vice had been hard but inglorious.
Once he had written to Mrs. Feaster
a letter of tender condolence. It came
while the lady was away on her pilgrim
age to her husband's grave. It met her
on her return and was like the greeting
of a dear friend. “It is sweet and
brave in him to write thus,” she said
handing the letter to her daughter. Miss
Feaster read it with quivering lips and
brimming eyes. “ I should like to keep
this mamma,” she said tenderly folding
it away.
And now news of defeat and disaster
to the Southern cause began to come
from Tennessee. The brave Zollikoffer
was killed and his gallant little army
driven back. Fort Donaldson and Fort
Henry had fallen and the very heart of
the Confederacy was threatened. Then
in March Mrs. DeSaussure received a
letter from Colonel DeSaussure stating
that his regiment had been ordered to
the West and was then enroute to join
Albert Sydney Johnston at Corinth.
“ I should be glad to run by, mother,
and see you once more as we go, but I
cannot leave,” it ran. “ Col. Lawson
will run by for a day. Perhaps you
will see him. If so, he can tell you
.WuJt a great grizzled face man I have
'* become. My health is robust and I feel
able to render a good account of myself
at Phillippi,” and to the letter was a
little postscript adding:
“ It may please you to know that I
have been entrusted with the command
of a brigade. I shall try not to dishonor
the trust.”
Yes; Colonel Lawson did come by just
for a day, but that day was spent at Rio
. Vista, and scarcely any one saw him but
Miss Coleman.
“I came, Miss Drucie,” he said and
after the friendly greetings had been
exchanged, the travel dust brushed
away and they had stuffed him with a
delightful dinner, and he had withdrawn
the young lady to the little alcove at the
foot of the library. “ I came Miss Drucie
to learn my fate. I feel it an unmanly
thint, to be going along loving a girl
whose beauty, perhaps, may belong to
another. I love you too well to have
my love a delusion. Tell me, darling,
if you can, that you will love me, that
you will be my wife, and if you cannot
tell me that, tell me no at once, and let
me go and be killed 1 ”
“ I should be sad to have you killed,”
she said softly.
“I had rather be killed than to go
through life unloved by the woman I
love,” he replied. “ But for God’s sake
tell me, can you love me?”
“ Yes; ” putting up her hands to push
him away.
“And will be mjrwife?” respecting
the modest prohibition.
“ Yes.”
“ Then, darling, you have made me
the happiest mortal alive,” he cried,
putting down the uplifted hands and
folding her in his arms.
For a moment he held her there
slrained to his happy heart, and then
uplifting the blushing face he kissed
her.
“ I shall ask your father,” he said.
“ Yes; you may tell him of this,” she
answered withdrawing from his arms
and running away.
“ Colonel Coleman,” he said, bravely
confronting the old gentleman in the
family room. “ I have had a talk with
Miss Drucie and we have made up our
minds to marry.”
“The Dickens!” ejaculated the old
gentleman, laying down his paper and
elevating his spectacles on his forehead.
“ I see nothing to be bo surprised at,”
said the young man.
“ To marry 1 You and Drucie ?” re
peated the old gentleman.
“ Yes; that’s what I tried to say. We
have concluded to marry and it would
be a pleasant thing to have your consent
and your good wishes.”
“And what has she done with Frank.
What is to become of poor Frank?”
asked the old gentleman still in amaze
ment at the astounding proposition.
“ Hang Frank, let him ransack crea
tion to find her equal again if he can.
8he says she loves me and that should
suffice for Frank,” he answered.
“Ah; and when do you expect to do
this unheard of thing?”
“This very day; as soon as Dr. Bas*
comb can get here to marry us,” replied
the unabashed young soldier.
“ Humph; this is strange, this is sud
den. Has she even told her mother? ”
“ I suspect that she is telling her
now.”
“ But why such hurry?”
“ Because I have only a day.”
“But why not wait until vou come
back, until the war is ended and you
come back ? ”
“ Because I might get killed. But we
are wasting time in arguing. Come,
say you will send for Dr. Bascomb, and
let us have it over.”
“ You are urgent in your haste.”
“ Yes ,* the exigencies of the case are
urgent. You forget, sir, that things are
moving.”
“ I will see Mary about it; ah, here
she comes now. Mary has Drucie
spoken to you about this young man? ”
“ Yes; she has just told me.”
“And what do you say to it? ”
“ I told her as I shall tell Colonel
Lawson, that my heart had been set so
fondly upon Frank, that it is hard for
me to think of loving any other.”
“ Well, hang Frank, love him as much
as you please. I shall not be jealous.
So Drucie loves me it is all I care,” in
terrupted the young man impatiently.
“ So you care nothing for my love? ’
she aBked a little impressively.
“ Oh, yes; in a dutiful way, of course,
but it is Drucie I am after. You can
love Frank as much as you please, and
so shall I, too, as for that matter. He
is a brave, good man, and were he a
brother I could not love him any better,”
he replied.
“ It does not look much like a broth
erly thing to do, to steal your brother’s
affianced bride,” retorted the lady.
“Affianced I You must be mistaken.
I asked Frank if I might win her and
he answered yes, if I could,” he ex
plained, flushing under the thrust.
“And that was because be had too
much faith in the troth of the woman he
loved,” replied the mother.
“It was because he never loved her
as I love her. Had he or any man in
the world asked my permission to court
the woman I love 1 would knock him
down, just as I am sure Frank DeSaus
sure would have knocked me down had
he loved her. However, I do not be
lieve in beating about the bush, we will
call Drucie, and if she says there was
any troth spoken or written between her
and Frank DeSaussure, I will pocket
my misery the best I can and leave this
house on the instant. Where will I find
her?”
“ She is in her room, I will call her,”
said the lady stepping in the hall and
sending Sally up after the young lady.
With a blushing confusion she came
down and timidly approached the trium
virate.
“Drucie, darling,” said the young
man boldly taking her hand, “1 have
pledged my happiness—my life—upon
your truth, now tell me, is there any
thing of promise, of trust, or of troth
between you and Frank DeSaussure? ”
“ There iB nothing,” she answered.
“Then you are mine—all mine, and
no power on earth can separate you
from me,” he said catching her again
to his breast and holding her there in
defiant possession.
“Very well, children, since the mat
ter has gone this far, I suppose we will
have to let you marry,” said the old
gentleman, rising to send for the par
son.
“ Marry, when?” asked the mother.
“To-day—it is all the time I have,”
replied the young man resuming his
hold upon the young lady as Bhe started
back in genuine embarrassment.
“ Not to-day,” she gasped.
“ Yes; to-day, darling. Consider how
long I have waited. Why not to-day ? ”
he asked pleadingly.
“ Oh, it is so sudden. I am not pre
pared,” she said.
“Just as you stand, darling, with no
one to see us but your mother and fath
er and the holy man that makes us
one.”
“ But what will folks say; what will
Mrs. DeSaussure and the Feasters,” ob
jected the mother.
“As I am not marrying Mrs. DeSaus
sure and the Feasters, I see no reason
for caring what they Ray,” he replied.
“ But Drucie can hardly be so reck
less in her contempt for the opinion of
her friends,” replied the lady.
“ If her friendB are the sensible folk
that I esteem them to be they cannot
blame her for preferring the happiness
of the man she has promised to marry,
to the idle speculation or gossip of a
parcel of women.”
“But, sir, cannot we wait at least a
week,” timidly interposed the young
lady withdrawing from his nearness.
“My darling, to-day is all the day
I have—the poor little time that I have
to invest you with all that I have—my
name, my fortune, my honor, my love,
my life Please, darling let it be ? ”
“ I should be unworthy such a trust
were I to resist such a plea,” she said
offering her hand. “ Mamma, you will
let it be?”
“Yes; since it must,” replied the
mother kissing her and turning to the
young man she offered her hand. He
raised it to bis lips with a filial rever
ence. “I shall always thank you for
giving me your darling,” he said.
The parson, Dr. Bascomb, fortunately
was at home and lost no time in obey
ing the summons, and * * just as she was, ”
the lovely heiress of Rio Vista was made
the blushing wife of the gallant young
soldier.
For one little day he lived in that
beautiful heaven of love and then with
the holy dew of a true wife’s kiss cling
ing to his lips he went away, back to
the grim realities of a horrible war.
“ Well, General,” he said, as three
days later he reported to his command
now fixed at Bethel. “ I hardly know
which to expect, your congratulations or
your anathemas, when I tel] you the
upBhot of my visit to Rio Vista.”
“Ah, what have you done. Did you
see mother? ”
“ Oh, no; I was only there for a day,
and that day was all too full of my darl
ing to see any one else.”
“Ah; you and Miss Coleman have
come to an understanding at last. She
has answered? ” he asked with a little
eagerness he could not restrain.
“ Yes; she is my wife! ”
“Your wife; you are married?” he
asked in unfeigned excitement.
“Yes; we were married, and I came
away the next day; was it not cruel ? ”
disconsolately.
“Your coming away; yes?”
“And you do not despise me?”
“Despise you? oli, no! I congratu
late you, Colonel, heartily and sincerely
congratulate you—heigh-ho 1 ” with a
dismal sigh.
I am on outpoit duty here with my brigade,
guarding thi* point from the raidi of Federal
cavalry. The army li matting at Corinth, eomfe
2.1 miles below here, and by the time this reaches
you, I onlne a blow for the recovery of Tennes
see will be struck. I am In spleudld health for
any duty, and my heart beats light with hope.
You must not be anxious for me. The same
merciful Father that watches over you at home
will watch over me here. We are all In His
bands and should trust Him for Hie kindness.
Qlve my love to all the negroes, and believe me,
sweet mother, vour affectionate son,
Francis DbSaumure.
It was the next day after the wedding
and the young officer had gone, that
Mrs. DeSaussure drove up to Thornhill.
“ Have you heard of Drucie’s mar
riage?” she asked, after seating herself
in the friendly circle.
“ Miss Coleman?” interrogatively ex
claimed both mother and daughter.
" Yes; he came by and married and
is gone,” she explained.
“Oh!” involuntarily cried the girl,
trying to soothe the pain in her heart by
pressing her breast with her hand.
Indeed; that was sudden?” asked
Mrs. Feaster, trying to hush her own
excitement.
“Yes; I was quite unprepared for it.
His command, you see. had been or
dered to Tennessee and he got leave to
run by, and they were married yester
day and he is gone again to-day,” ex'
plained the lady more fully.
Ah, well, I do most heartily con
gratulate them both. Mary, darling,
will you please see Aunt Seely about
her tea?” anxious to send the girl from
the room.
A grateful look thanked the mother
for her kindness, as the girl arose and
hurried away, not to Aunt Seely, but to
her own room, where falling upon her
bed, sbe moaned, “ It is finished I It is
finished! Oh, God, let me die I”
“ Miss Coleman is a sweet lady and
will make a true wife—loving and true—
and I must congratulate you, Mro. De-
Saussure, upon your son’s good fortune,”
said Mrs. Feaster after her daughter had
passed out.
‘ ‘ My son ? Perhaps you are mistaken,
Mrs. Feaster. My son has no connec
tion whatever with the affair,” replied
the lady.
“Not your son? Then who was it
Miss Coleman has married?” asked the
other.
It was Colonel Lawson, to be sure.
Francis DeSaussure had no claim what
ever upon Miss Coleman,” drawing up
a little proudly.
t . . .v .. ... i “Ah, thenl was miBlsd^ M J»-rics....
“ThanlsjmyheartiShghter’.JIlthejftiaUk^^iH.LeSaussure.”
somehow feared that it might give you
pa<n,” said the happy young benedict,
with a heart overflowing with pity for
the desolate jilt.
“Yes; you are to be congratulated.
You have won a peerless bride—a sweet
woman. You must excuse me if I look
a little cut. I feel as if a part of my
life’s sunshine was gone. But 1 do con
gratulate you, and you have my best
wishes; please write to her as much.”
“Yes, I shall; and now I am ready
for duty. What is ahead ? ”
“Portentous events are near. The
army is massing for a decisive blow.
Within a week we will have added a
chapter to history that will be memora
ble centuries to come.”
“ Ah, I am glad you think so. How
are the troops?”
“In the best of trim. The eiprit de
corps is excellent. It is gratifying to
find it so.”
“Yes; I feared the recent blunders
would have disheartened them.”
No; they are buoyant and anxious
to retrieve the disasters. They feel the
magic influence of General Johnston’s
power. Ah,he is a soldier—every Inch.”
" Where is the 00th? I will go now.
I am anxious to be with the boys.”
“ Theodore will show you. You see
I could not leave Kirk. Theodore, con
duct Colonel Lawson to the 00th. You
can ride Selim, Colonel.”
“ Thanks,” and the friends separated.
“ And so Drucie is married, and now
nothing but solitude is left to me,” mur
mured Francis DeSaussure, as he was
left alone in his room. ‘* But why should
I care ? Why should I wish to inflict
upon her sweet life a love that comes
leached of its essence? Why wish her
to give me a heart in return for the icy
lump I could offer her? Ah, well, I am
glaashe is married. I believe I shall
write to mother,” and turning to bis ta
ble he wrote:
Camp nbab Purdt, Trnn., April 2,18»;t.
1(y Mother—Colonel Lawson bos Just come
In, bringing the surprising news of bis marriage
to Miss Coleman. I could congratulate him
upon his great happiness, bnt for all that mjr
heart feels a sadness I thought it Incapable of
feeling. Perhaps It is the sudden shock of the
revelation. I cannot think it anything more
serious. At any rate I must beg you, as f have
asked him, to tender Miss Drucie my warmest
congratulations and assure her of my best wishes
for her happiness. I bad hoped for him to have
seen you that he might have brought personal
tidings from you. My heart yearns so fondly
towards yon that I could kiss adog that you had
spoken to. But I must put aside unmanly long
ings. We have sterner things to engage us
heie.
, “Yes; Miss Coleman is, as you say,
a sweet lady, and her husband is to be
congratulated; but there was nothing
between my son and her—nothing, only
a very cordial friendliness. Ana apro
pos of my son, Mrs. Feaster, it was to
tell you of his good fortune that I came.”
“Ah, any good fortune of his will be
welcome news to me.”
“ Yes; I hoped so, and came to tell
you. He has been promoted and has
command of a brigade.”
“Oh.”
“ Yes; his command is now with Gen
eral Albert Sydney Johnston in Tennes
see. Not quite so far away as Virginia.”
“ I do congratulate you, Mrs. DeSaus
sure.”
Yes; it is pleasant to thus have one’s
son distinguished. I fear sometimes
though that my heart is set too fondly
upon his distinction. It is to be won at
such a fearful cost.”
Ah, miserable, miserable met”
murmured the lady at the desolate void
in her own widowed heart.
“You must not let me distress you,”
sympathetically said Mrs. DeSaussure.
“Oh, no, you have not; only the bit
terness will come. No measure of fame
can fill the void,” sighed the lady, and
then in a moment, to relieve the sad-
nesB, she asked: “ What do the papers
say about the situation in the West ? Is
it as gloomy as ever?”
“ No j there seemB to be a more hope
ful feeling. Sydney Johnston is inspir
ing hope and confidence again. I should
have brought you the papers, only there
is a dismal dearth of news. The editors
seem to be doing all the fighting now.
What a pity that our Generals have not
the Napoleonic strategy and skill our
editors seem to possess to such a re
markable degree.”
“ Yes, the editors seem to know more
than the Generals. Poor General John
ston, they have made him out quite a
bedridden granny.”
“ It is infamous. They should be con*
scripted into the army at once, every
one of them,” indignantly said Mrs.
DeSaussure.
“ And yet the papers are a great com
fort. There was a time, ah, me 1 when
I could not bsar to hear them read, but
I am regaining my interest now. I have
ordered the Charleston and Colombia
dailies.”
“ Yes; one cannot do without the
news. To be indifferent to it is to lose
all interest in oar country. Bat where