Daisy in the Field Part 15

"I do not think they will take Was.h.i.+ngton," I said. "I am in no hurry, for my part, to get away. Look - do you say maroon or dark purple for this bit of grounding? I cannot make up my mind."

Mrs. Sandford dived into the purples and browns of my coloured wools; came back again to McDowell and Beauregard, but came back quieted, and presently left the room. Then, I put down my needle and laid my head on the table, and shook from head to foot with the trembling she had given me. And a longing to see Christian took possession of me; a sick, crying thirst for the sight, if it were only for a minute; the impatient agony of self-will. Necessity's bands and manacles put it down after a time.

The next day was Sunday. I went to church alone, and with my usual average of calm. But I heard some one say to his neighbour, that there was a great battle going forward - with what promise n.o.body knew. The words sent me home with a sort of half breath. I avoided Mrs. Sandford, took no dinner; and in the afternoon feverishly crept out to church again. The air seemed to me full of bodings. Yet I heard nothing. I saw people whisper each other, and nod; I thought good news was given and received, and I breathed a little easier. It was not till I was coming out from the service that any one spoke to me. I found myself then near a gentleman whom we knew.

"Glorious news, Miss Randolph!" he half whispered. "General Scott will dine with a good appet.i.te to-day."

"What is the news"

"Oh, a great victory! We have not got the details yet, of course; but it seems all is going right."

"It _seems_ going right."

"Yes. You know we have not details yet. There's been heavy fighting, though."

"Is it a general engagement?"

"Oh, yes! All in that could be in. And some that had no business to be in. They say, Johnston has reinforced Beauregard; but they are totally routed, I believe. So it is said."

"Who says it?"

"The accounts from the battlefield, I presume. They are coming in all the time. The Nation has triumphed. I congratulate you.

I know you are loyal. Mrs. Sand- ford will be rejoiced. Good afternoon."

It was too sudden, too soon, and too confused. I could not breathe freely yet. Johnston reinforced Beauregard? That was just what Patterson was expected to prevent; ought to have prevented. Then, probably, Patterson had done no fighting? I was pondering, when I suddenly found Major Fairbairn beside me. He belonged with the troops left to guard Was.h.i.+ngton.

"Oh, Major," said I, "what is the news?"

"Firing down in Virginia, -" said the major, laconically.

"Is it true, that a battle has been won by McDowell?"

"I wish it were," said he; "but in general it is safe not to speak of a fight till it is over."

"Then it is not over?"

"I have not heard that it is."

"But they tell me a fight has been won."

"They tell every conceivable thing in war-time," said the major. "Don't you know that? It is safe to believe nothing."

"Has Johnston joined Beauregard?"

"I am afraid he has. The advices seem to put that beyond disbelief."

"You are _afraid!_ Then the news means nothing to you; nothing good, I mean?"

"The rumours mean nothing to me," said the major, smiling.

"The reliable news is really, so far, not much. It is certain there is a battle going on, Miss Randolph, and a battle along the whole line. And it is certain that Patterson had orders to follow up Johnston, and keep him from troubling us. And I am afraid it is also certain that he has not done it - confound him! Excuse me; but a man who don't obey orders deserves to have people swear at him, Miss Randolph."

I left the major at a corner, and before I got home, another acquaintance informed me that the victory was undoubted, though severely purchased, and that the city was in a state of exultation. I did not know what to think. I said as little as possible to Mrs. Sandford; but later in the evening Dr.

Barnard came with the details of the day, and the added intelligence that since seven o'clock the firing had recommenced.

"What for? if the victory is sure?" said Mrs. Sandford; and I went to my room feeling that it was not sure. Nevertheless I slept that night. I cannot tell why, or how. Whether it were most akin to weariness or despair, I slept, and quietly, and the whole night through. But I know very well that I awaked with a full sense that it was not to quietness nor peace. I took up my burden as I got out of bed.

My room was at the back of the house. Consequently I heard and saw nothing of the outer world till I came down to the breakfast-room. n.o.body was there yet, and I went to the window. The first thing I saw then made my heart stand still.

A group was gathered just before the window, on the sidewalk.

In the midst a soldier, one of a gay Zouave regiment, not at all gay now, stood talking to a little crowd of listeners; talking in a pouring rain, which n.o.body seemed to care about.

He was wet; his bright uniform was stained and draggled; he had no musket; and his ta.s.seled cap sat on a head which in every line and movement expressed defeat and disgrace. So they all listened who stood around; I read it as well as if I had heard the words they were hearing. I saw dejection, profound sorrow, absorbed attention, utter forgetfulness of present bodily discomfort. I noticed that one man who carried an umbrella had put it down, and stood listening in the rain.

Occasionally the soldier raised his arm to eke out his words with a gesture; and then moved a step as if to go on, but they closed around him again and staid him with eager questions or urgings. I was very near throwing up the sash to ask what it all was; and then I thought, what matter! I should know soon enough, But I could not move from the window; and Mrs.

Sandford entering and seeing me there came and looked over my shoulder. I did not know it, till I heard her -

"Good Heavens! - Daisy, my dear, what is the matter?"

"We shall hear presently," I said, turning away from the window.

"But what is it?" - And Mrs. Sandford first took my place, and then did what I had been tempted to do; - threw up the sash.

"What is the matter?" she said. "Is there news. Men, is there news?"

I do not know what was answered; I did not hear; I had gone into the middle of the room; but Mrs. Sanford closed the window presently and came to me, looking even pale. A rare thing for her.

"Daisy, there is trouble," she said.

"Yes, -" I answered.

"How do you know? They say - they say, the army is all cut to pieces!"

I could not speak about it. We knew nothing yet; but Mrs.

Sandford went on -

"He says, everybody is killed. All routed and destroyed, the army is. Can it be possible?"

I thought it was very possible: I never had doubted but that the Southerners - as a body - were the best fighters. But I said nothing; while Mrs. Sandford poured out sorrows and fears and speculations in a breath. I could have smiled, but that I could not have smiled. We stood still, looking at each other, n.o.body remembering breakfast. I was thinking, if the cause was lost, where would Mr. Thorold be then. And I ceased to hear Mrs. Sandford.

"But Daisy!" she said suddenly - "the other army - Beauregard's - they will be here directly to take Was.h.i.+ngton, if all this is true; and it must be true; or that soldier would not have been out there in the rain. They will be coming here directly, Daisy. And, bless me! how wicked I am! You are standing there, patient and pale, and you have had no breakfast. Come here and let me give you some coffee. Grant said he would be down to dinner perhaps; and how angry he would be."

We drank cups of coffee, but I do not think either of us broke bread.

That was a weary day. All the day long new groups were forming and dispersing in the street, telling and talking over the news; groups of all sorts. Soldiers discoursing to audiences like the one in the morning; knots of officers; twos and threes of business men; debating, inquiring, discussing; all under the dark rain, all with downcast faces and dispirited bearing. Late in the day Major Fairbairn called. He somewhat rea.s.sured us. The carnage was not so great; the loss not so tremendous, as we had at first been told; the damage done not so absolutely overwhelming.

"Then you do not think Beauregard will come and take Was.h.i.+ngton?" Mrs. Sandford asked.

"I don't know!" the major said, with a smile. "He must be quick about it, or it will be too late."

"But is this a final settling of the question, Major Fairbairn?" I inquired. "That is what I want to know."

"We have been whipped," he said, looking at me.