Books: His Sombre Rivals

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Never had Grace looked so radiantly beautiful as when in the brilliant
sunshine of a Washington winter and in the frosty air she galloped
over the smooth, hard roads. Hilland was proud of the almost wondering
looks of admiration that everywhere greeted her, and too much in love
to note that the ladies they met looked at him in much the same way.
The best that was said of Graham was that he looked a soldier, every
inch of him, and that he rode the finest horse in the city as if be
had been brought up in a saddle. He was regarded by society as
reserved, unsocial, and proud; and at two or three receptions, to
which he went because of the solicitation of his friends, he piqued
the vanity of more than one handsome woman by his courteous
indifference.

"What is the matter with your husband's friend?" a reigning belle
asked Grace. "One might as well try to make an impression on a paving-
stone."

"I think your illustration unhappy," was her quiet reply. "I cannot
imagine Mr. Graham at any one's feet."

"Not even your own?" was the malicious retort.

"Not even my own," and a flash of anger from her dark eyes accompanied
her answer.

Still, wherever he went he awakened interest in all natures not dull
or sodden. He was felt to be a presence. There was a consciousness of
power in his very attitudes; and one felt instinctively that he was
far removed from the commonplace--that he had had a history which made
him different from other men.

But before this slight curiosity was kindled to any extent, much less
satisfied, his leave of absence expired; and with a sense of deep
relief he prepared to say farewell. His friends expected to see him
often in the city; he knew they would see him but seldom, if at all.
He bad made his visit with his aunt, and she understood him. His quiet
poise was departing, and he longed for the stern, fierce excitement of
active service.

Before he joined his regiment he spent the day with his friends, and
took occasion once, when alone with Hilland, to make an appeal that
was solemn and almost passionate in its earnestness, adjuring him to
remain employed in duties like those which now occupied him. But he
saw that his efforts were vain.

"No, Graham," was Hilland's emphatic reply; "just as soon as there is
danger at the front I shall be with my regiment Now I can do more
here."

With Grace he took a short ride in the morning while Hilland was
engaged in his duties, and he looked at the fair woman by his side
with the thought that he might never see her again. It almost seemed
as if Grace understood him, for although the rich color mantled in her
cheeks and she abounded in smile and repartee, a look of deep sadness
rarely left her eyes.

Once she said abruptly, "Alford, you will come and see us often before
the campaign opens? Oh, I dread this coming campaign. You will come
often?"

"I fear not, Grace," he said, gravely and gently, "I will try to come,
but not often." Then he added, with a short, abrupt laugh, "I wish I
could break Hilland's leg." In answer to a look of surprise he
continued, "Could not your father procure an order that would keep him
in the city? He would have to obey orders."

"Ah, I understand you," and there was a quick rush of tears to her
eyes. "It's of no use. I have thought of everything, but Warren's
heart is set on joining his regiment in the spring."

"I know it. I have said all that I could say to a brother on the
subject."

"From the first, Alford, you have tried to make the ordeal of this war
less painful to me, and how well you have succeeded! You have been our
good genius. Warren, in his impetuous, chivalrous feeling, would have
gone into it unadvisedly, hastily; and before this might--Oh, I can't
even think of it," she said with a shudder. "But years have passed
since your influence guided him into a wiser and more useful course,
and think how much of the time I have been able to be with him! And it
has all been due to you, Alford. But the war seems no nearer its end.
It rather assumes a larger and more threatening aspect Why do not men
think of us poor women before they go to war?"

"You think, then, that even your influence cannot keep him from the
field?"

"No, it could not. Indeed, beyond a certain point I dare not exert it.
I should be dumb before questions already asked, 'Why should I shrink
when other husbands do not? What would be said of me here? what by my
comrades in the regiment? What would your brave father think, though
he might acquiesce? Nay, more, what would my wife think in her secret
heart?' Alas! I find I am not made of such stern stuff as are some
women. Pride and military fame could not sustain me if--if--"

"Do not look on the gloomy side, Grace. Hilland will come out of it
all a major-general."

"Oh, I don't know, I don't know. I do know that he will often be in
desperate danger; what a dread certainty that is for me! Oh, I wish
you could be always near him; and yet 'tis a selfish wish, for you
would not count the cost to yourself."

"No, Grace; I've sworn that on the sword you gave me."

"I might have known as much." Then she added earnestly, "Believe me,
if you should fall it would also imbitter my life."

"Yes, you would grieve sincerely; but there would be an infinite
difference, an infinite difference. One question, however, is settled
beyond recall. If my life can serve you or Hilland, no power shall
prevent my giving it. There is nothing more to be said: let us speak
of something else."

"Yes, Alford, one thing more. Once I misjudged you. Forgive me;" and
she caused her horse to spring into a gallop, resolving that no
commonplace words should follow closely upon a conversation that had
touched the most sacred feelings and impulses of each heart.

For some reason there was a shadow over their parting early in the
evening, for Graham was to ride toward the front with the dawn. Even
Hilland's genial spirits could not wholly dissipate it. Graham made
heroic efforts, but he was oppressed with a despondency which was
wellnigh overwhelming. He felt that he was becoming unmanned, and in
bitter self-censure resolved to remain with his regiment until the end
came, as he believed would be the case with him before the year
closed.

"Alford, remember your promise. We all may need you yet," were his
aunt's last words in the gray of the morning.

CHAPTER XXVI

AN IMPROVISED PICTURE GALLERY

Much to Graham's satisfaction, his regiment, soon after he joined it,
was ordered into the Shenandoah Valley, and given some rough,
dangerous picket duty that fully accorded with his mood. Even Hilland
could not expect a visit from him now; and he explained to his friend
that the other officers were taking their leaves of absence, and he,
in turn, must perform their duties. And so the winter passed
uneventfully away in a cheerful interchange of letters. Graham found
that the front agreed with him better than Washington, and that his
pulse resumed its former even beat A dash at a Confederate picket post
on a stormy night was far more tranquilizing than an evening in
Hilland's luxurious rooms.

With the opening of the spring campaign Hilland joined his regiment,
and was eager to remove by his courage and activity the slightest
impression, if any existed, that he was disposed to shun dangerous
service. There was no such impression, however; and he was most
cordially welcomed, for he was a great favorite with both officers and
men.

During the weeks that followed, the cavalry was called upon to do
heavy work and severe fighting; and the two friends became more
conspicuous than ever for their gallantry. They seemed, however, to
bear charmed lives, for, while many fell or were wounded, they escaped
unharmed,

At last the terrific and decisive campaign of Gettysburg opened; and
from the war-wasted and guerilla-infested regions of Virginia the
Northern troops found themselves marching through the friendly and
populous North. As the cavalry brigade entered a thriving village in
Pennsylvania the people turned out almost _en masse_ and gave
them more than an ovation. The troopers were tired, hungry, and
thirsty; and, since from every doorway was offered a boundless
hospitality, the column came to a halt. The scene soon developed into
a picturesque military picnic. Young maids and venerable matrons,
gray-bearded fathers, shy, blushing girls, and eager-eyed children,
all vied with each other in pressing upon their defenders every
delicacy and substantial viand that their town could furnish at the
moment. A pretty miss of sixteen, with a peach-like bloom in her
cheeks, might be seen flitting here and there among the bearded
troopers with a tray bearing goblets of milk. When they were emptied
she would fly back and lift up white arms to her mother for more, and
the almost equally blooming matron, smiling from the window, would
fill the glasses again to the brim. The magnates of the village with
their wives were foremost in the work, and were passing to and fro
with great baskets of sandwiches, while stalwart men and boys were
bringing from neighboring wells and pumps cool, delicious water for
the horses. How immensely the troopers enjoyed it all! No scowling
faces and cold looks here. All up and down the street, holding bridle-
reins over their arms or leaning against the flanks of their horses,
they feasted as they had not done since their last Thanksgiving Day at
home. Such generous cups of coffee, enriched with cream almost too
thick to flow from the capacious pitchers, and sweetened not only with
snow-white sugar, but also with the smiles of some gracious woman,
perhaps motherly in appearance, perhaps so fair and young that hearts
beat faster under the weather-stained cavalry jackets.

"How pretty it all is!" said a familiar voice to Graham, as he was
dividing a huge piece of cake with his pet Mayburn; and Hilland laid
his hand on his friend's shoulder,

"Ah, Hilland, seeing you is the best part of this banquet _a la
militaire_. Yes, it is a heavenly change after the dreary land
we've been marching and fighting in. It makes me feel that I have a
country, and that it's worth all it may cost."

"Look, Graham--look at that little fairy creature in white muslin,
talking to that great bearded pard of a sergeant. Isn't that a
picture? Oh, I wish Grace, with her eye for picturesque effects, could
look upon this scene."

"Nonsense, Hilland! as if she would look at anybody or anything but
you! See that white-haired old woman leading that exquisite little
girl to yonder group of soldiers. See how they doff their hats to her.
There's another picture for you."

Hilland's magnificent appearance soon attracted half a dozen village
belles about him, each offering some dainty; and one--a black-eyed
witch a little bolder than the others--offered to fasten a rose from
her hair in his button-hole.

He entered into the spirit of the occasion with all the zest of his
old student days, professed to be delighted with the favor as she
stood on tiptoe to reach the lappet of his coat; and then he stooped
down and pressed his lips to the fragrant petals, assuring the
blushing little coquette, meanwhile, that it was the next best thing
to her own red lips.

How vividly in after years Graham would recall him, as he stood there,
his handsome head thrown back, looking the ideal of an old Norse
viking, laughing and chatting with the merry, innocent girls around
him, his deep-blue eyes emitting mirthful gleams on every side!
According to his nature, Graham drew off to one side and watched the
scene with a smile, as he had viewed similar ones far back in the
years, and far away in Germany. He saw the ripples of laughter that
his friend's words provoked, and recognized the old, easy grace, the
light, French-like wit, that was wholly free from the French _double
entendre_, and he thought: "Would that Grace could see him now, and
she would fall in love with him anew, for her nature is too large for
petty jealousy at a scene like that Oh, Hilland! you and the group
around you make the finest picture of this long improvised gallery of
pictures."

Suddenly there was a loud report of a cannon from a hill above the
village, and a shell shrieked over their heads. Hilland's laughing
aspect changed instantly. He seemed almost to gather the young girls
in his arms as he hurried them into the nearest doorway, and then with
a bound reached Graham, who held his horse, vaulted into the saddle,
and dashed up the street to his men who were standing in line.

Graham sprang lightly on his horse, for in the scenes resulting from
the kaleidoscopic change that had taken place he would be more at
home.

"Mount!" he shouted; and the order, repeated up and down the street,
changed the jolly, feasting troopers of a moment since into veterans
who would sit like equestrian statues, if so commanded, though a
hundred guns thundered against them.

From the further end of the village came the wild yell characteristic
of the cavalry charges of the Confederates, while shell after shell
shrieked and exploded where had just been unaffected gayety and
hospitality.

The first shot had cleared the street of all except the Union
soldiers; and those who dared to peep from window or door saw, with
dismay, that the defenders whom they had so honored and welcomed were
retreating at a gallop from the Rebel charge.

They were soon undeceived, however, for at a gallop the national
cavalry dashed into an open field near by, formed with the precision
of machinery, and by the time that the Rebel charge had wellnigh spent
itself in the sabring or capture of a few tardy troopers, Hilland with
platoon after platoon was emerging upon the street again at a sharp
trot, which soon developed into a furious gallop as he dashed against
their assailants; and the pretty little coquette, bold not only in
love but in war, saw from a window her ideal knight with her red rose
upon his breast leading a charge whose thunder caused the very earth
to tremble; and she clapped her hands and cheered so loudly as he
approached that he looked up, saw her, and for an instant a sunny
smile passed over the visage that had become so stern. Then came the
shock of battle.

Graham's company was held in reserve, but for some reason his horse
seemed to grow unmanageable; and sabres had scarcely clashed before
he, with the blade on which was engraved "Grace Hilland," was at her
husband's side, striking blows which none could resist. The enemy
could not stand the furious onset, and gave way slowly, sullenly, and
at last precipitately. The tide of battle swept beyond and away from
the village; and its street became quiet again, except for the groans
of the wounded.

Mangled horses, mangled men, some dead, some dying, and others almost
rejoicing in wounds that would secure for them such gentle nurses,
strewed the streets that had been the scene of merry festivity.

The pretty little belle never saw her tawny, bearded knight again. She
undoubtedly married and tormented some well-to-do dry-goods clerk; but
a vision of a man of heroic mold, with a red rose upon his breast,
smiling up to her just as he was about to face what might be death,
will thrill her feminine soul until she is old and gray.

That night Graham and Hilland talked and laughed over the whole affair
as they sat by a camp-fire.

"It has all turned out as usual," said Graham, ruefully. "You won a
victory and no end of glory; I a reprimand from my colonel."

"If you have received nothing worse than a reprimand you are
fortunate," was Hilland's response. "The idea of any horse becoming
unmanageable in your hands! The colonel understands the case as well
as I do, and knows that it was your own ravenous appetite for a fight
that became unmanageable. But I told him of the good service you
rendered, and gave him the wink to wink also. You were fearfully rash
to-day, Graham. You were not content to fight at my side, but more
than once were between me and the enemy. What the devil makes you so
headlong in a fight--you that are usually so cool and self-
controlled?"

Graham's hand rested on a fair woman's name engraved upon his sword,
but he replied lightly: "When you teach me caution in a fight I'll
learn."

"Well, excuse me, old fellow, I'm going to write to Grace. May not
have a chance very soon again. I say, Graham, we'll have _the_ battle
of the war in a day or two."

"I know it," was the quiet response.

"And we must win, too," Hilland continued, "or the Johnnies will help
themselves to Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and perhaps New
York. Every man should nerve himself to do the work of two. As I was
saying, I shall write to Grace that your horse ran away with you and
became uncontrollable until you were directly in front of me, when you
seemed to manage him admirably, and struck blows worthy of the old
French duellist who killed a man every morning before breakfast. I
think she'll understand your sudden and amazingly poor horsemanship as
well as I do."

She did, and far better.

Hilland's prediction proved true. The decisive battle of Gettysburg
was fought, and its bloody field marked the highest point reached by
the crimson tide of the Rebellion. From Cemetery Ridge it ebbed slowly
and sullenly away to the south.

The brigade in which were the friends passed through another fearful
baptism of fire in the main conflict and the pursuit which followed,
and were in Virginia again, but with ranks almost decimated. Graham
and Hilland still seemed to bear charmed lives, and in the brief pause
in operations that followed, wrote cheerful letters to those so dear,
now again at their seaside resort. Grace, who for days had been so
pale, and in whose dark eyes lurked an ever-present dread of which she
could not speak, smiled again. Her husband wrote in exuberant spirits
over the victory, and signed himself "Lieutenant-Colonel." Graham in
his letter said jestingly to his aunt that he had at last attained his
"majority," and that she might therefore look for a little more
discretion on his part.

"How the boys are coming on!" exulted the old major. "They will both
wear the stars yet. But confound it all, why did Meade let Lee escape?
He might have finished the whole thing up."

Alas! the immeasurable price of liberty was not yet paid.

One morning Hilland's and Graham's regiments were ordered out on what
was deemed but a minor _reconnoissance_; and the friends, rested and
strong, started in high spirits with their sadly shrunken forces. But
they knew that the remaining handfuls were worth more than full ranks
of untrained, unseasoned men. All grow callous, if not indifferent, to
the vicissitudes of war; and while they missed regretfully many
familiar faces, the thought that they had rendered the enemy's lines
more meagre was consoling.

Graham and Hilland rode much of the long day together. They went over
all the past, and dwelt upon the fact that their lives had been so
different from what they had planned.

"By the way, Graham," said Hilland, abruptly, "it seems strange to me
that you are so indifferent to women. Don't you expect ever to marry?"

Graham burst into a laugh as he replied: "I thought we had that
subject out years ago, under the apple-tree--that night, you remember,
when you talked like a schoolgirl till morning--"

"And you analyzed and philosophized till long after midnight--"

"Well, you knew then that Grace had spoiled me for every one else; and
she's been improving ever since. When I find her equal I'll marry her,
if I can."

"Poor, forlorn old bachelor that you are, and ever will be!" cried
Hilland. "You'll never find the equal of Grace Hilland."

"I think I shall survive, Hilland. My appetite is good. As I live,
there are some Confederates in yonder clump of trees;" and he put
spurs to his horse on a little private _reconnoissance_. The few
horsemen vanished, in the thick woods beyond, the moment they saw that
they were perceived; and they were regarded as prowling guerillas
only.

That night they bivouacked in a grove where two roads intersected,
threw out pickets and patrols, and kindled their fires, for they did
not expect to strike the enemy in force till some time on the
following day.

CHAPTER XXVII

A DREAM

Graham and his friend had bidden each other an early and cordial good-
night, for the entire force under the command of Hilland's colonel was
to resume its march with the dawn. Although no immediate danger was
apprehended, caution had been learned by long experience. The
detachment was comparatively small, and it was far removed from any
support; and while no hints of the presence of the enemy in formidable
numbers had been obtained during the day, what was beyond them could
not be known with any certainty. Therefore the horses had been
carefully rubbed down, and the saddles replaced. In many instances the
bridles also had been put on again, with the bit merely slipped from
the mouth. In all cases they lay or hung within reach of the tired
troopers, who, one after another, were dropping off into the catlike
slumber of a cavalry outpost.

As the fires died down, the shadows in the grove grew deeper and more
obscure, and all was quiet, except when the hours came round for the
relief of pickets and the men who were patrolling the roads. Graham
remembered the evanescent group of Confederates toward whom he had
spurred during the day. He knew that they were in a hostile region,
and that their movements must be already well known to the enemy if
strong in their vicinity. Therefore all his instincts as a soldier
were on the alert. It so happened that he was second in command of his
regiment on this occasion, and he felt the responsibility. He had been
his own groom on their arrival at the grove, and his faithful charger,
Mayburn, now stood saddled and bridled by his side, as he reclined,
half dozing, again thinking deeply, by the low, flickering blaze of
his fire. He had almost wholly lost the gloomy presentiments that had
oppressed him at the beginning of the year. Both he and Hilland had
passed through so many dangers that a sense of security was begotten.
Still more potent had been the influence of his active out-of-door
life. His nerves were braced, while his soldier's routine and the
strong excitement of the campaign had become a preoccupying habit.

Only those who brood in idleness over the misfortunes and
disappointments of life are destroyed by them.

He had not seen Grace for over half a year; and while she was and ever
would be his fair ideal, he could now think of her with the quietude
akin to that of the devout Catholic who worships a saint removed from
him at a heavenly distance. The wisdom of this remoteness became more
and more clear to him; for despite every power that he could put forth
as a man, there was a deeper, stronger manhood within him which
acknowledged this woman as sovereign. He foresaw that his lot would be
one of comparative exile, and he accepted it with a calm and
inflexible resolution.

Hearing a step he started up hastily, and saw Hilland approaching from
the opposite side of his fire.

"Ah, Graham, glad you are not asleep," said his friend, throwing
himself down on the leaves, with his head resting on his hands. "Put a
little wood on the fire, please; I'm chilly in the night air, and the
dews are so confoundedly heavy."

"Why, Hilland, what's the matter?" Graham asked, as he complied. "You
are an ideal cavalryman at a nap, and can sleep soundly with one eye
open. It has seemed to me that you never lost a wink when there was a
chance for it, even under fire."

"Why are you not sleeping?"

"Oh, I have been, after my fashion, dozing and thinking by turns. I
always was an owl, you know. Moreover, I think it behooves us to be on
the alert. We are a good way from support if hard pressed; and the
enemy must be in force somewhere to the west of us."

"I've thought as much myself. My horse is ready, as yours is, and I
left an orderly holding him. I suppose you will laugh at me, but I've
had a cursed dream; and it has shaken me in spite of my reason. After
all, how often our reason fails us at a pinch! I wish it was morning
and we were on the road. I've half a mind to go out with the patrols
and get my blood in circulation. I would were it not that I feel I
should be with my men."

"Where's your colonel?"

"The old war-dog is sleeping like a top. Nothing ever disturbs him,
much less a dream. I say, Graham, I made a good selection in him,
didn't I?"

"Yes, but he'll be promoted soon, and you will be in command. What's
more, I expect to see a star on _your_ shoulder in less than six
months."

"As I feel to-night, I don't care a picayune for stars or anything
else relating to the cursed war. I'd give my fortune to be able to
kiss Grace and tell her I'm well."

"You are morbid, Hilland. You will feel differently to-morrow,
especially if there's a chance for a charge."

"No doubt, no doubt. The shadow of this confounded grove seems as
black as death, and it oppresses me. Why should I, without apparent
cause, have had such a dream?"

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