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THE SOUTHERN WORLD, JANUARY 15,1885. I •» " had c 88 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