Daisy In The Field - Page 177/231

I sent my letter, and waited. I got no answer. The weeks

rolled on, and the months. It was palpable, that delays which

had kept back one letter for a year might affect the delivery

of another letter in the same way; but it is hard, the

straining one's eyes into thick darkness with the vain

endeavour to see something.

The months were outwardly gay; very full of society life,

though not of the kind that I cared for. I went into it to

please mamma; and succeeded but partially; for she insisted I

was too sober and did not half take the French tone of easy,

light, graceful skimming over the surface of things. But mamma

could be deep and earnest too on her own subjects of interest.

The news of President Lincoln's proclamation, setting free the

slaves of the rebel States, roused her as much as she could be

roused. There were no terms to her speech or my aunt Gary's;

violent and angry against not only the President, but

everything and everybody that shared Northern growth and

extraction. - How bitterly they sneered at "Massachusetts

codfish;" - I think nothing would have induced either of them

to touch it; and whatsoever belonged to the East or the North,

not only meats and drinks, but Yankee spirit and manners and

courage, were all, figuratively, put under foot and well

trampled on. I listened and trembled, sometimes; sometimes I

listened and rejoiced. For, after all, my own affairs were not

the whole world; and a thrill of inexpressible joy went

through me when I remembered that my old Maria, and Pete, and

the Jems, and Darry, were all, by law, freed for ever from the

oppression of Mr. Edwards and any like him; and that the day

of their actual emancipation would come, so soon as the rights

of the Government should be established over the South. And of

this issue I began to be a little hopeful, beginning to

believe that it might be possible. Antietam and Corinth, and

Fredricksburg and New Orleans, with varying fortune, had at

least proclaimed to my ear that Yankees could fight; there was

no doubt of that now; and Southern prowess could not always

prevail against theirs. Papa ceased to question it, I noticed;

though mamma's sneers grew more intense as the occasion for

them grew less and less obvious.

The winter passed, and the spring came; and moved on with its

sweet step of peace, as it does even when men's hearts are all

at war. The echo of the battlefields of Virginias wept through

the Boulevards with met often; and it thundered at home. Mamma

had burst into new triumph at the news of Chancellorsville;

and uttered with great earnestness her wish that Jefferson

Davis might be able to execute the threat of his proclamation

and hang General Butler. But for me, I got no letter; and

these echoes began to sound in my ear like the distant outside

rumblings of the storm to one whose hearthstone it has already

swept and laid desolate. I was not desolate; yet I began to

listen as one whose ears were dim with listening. I met

Faustina St. Clair again with uneasiness. Not the torment of

my former jealousy; but a stir of doubt and pain which I could

not repress at the sight of her.