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  CHAPTER VII

  REGARDING ELISABETH

  Without woman the two extremities of this life would be destitute of succor and the middle would be devoid of pleasure.--_Proverb_.

  In some forgotten garret of this country, as I do not doubt, yellowedwith age, stained and indistinguishable, lost among uncared-for relicsof another day, there may be records of that interview between twostrange personalities, John Calhoun and Helena von Ritz, in thearrangement of which I played the part above described. I was not atthat time privileged to have much more than a guess at the nature of theinterview. Indeed, other things now occupied my mind. I was very much inlove with Elisabeth Churchill.

  Of these matters I need to make some mention. My father's plantation wasone of the old ones in Maryland. That of the Churchills lay across a lowrange of mountains and in another county from us, but our families hadlong been friends. I had known Elisabeth from the time she was a tall,slim girl, boon companion ever to her father, old Daniel Churchill; forher mother she had lost when she was still young. The Churchillsmaintained a city establishment in the environs of Washington itself,although that was not much removed from their plantation in the oldState of Maryland. Elmhurst, this Washington estate was called, and itwas well known there, with its straight road approaching and its greattrees and its wide-doored halls--whereby the road itself seemed to runstraight through the house and appear beyond--and its tall white pillarsand hospitable galleries, now in the springtime enclosed in green. Ineed not state that now, having finished the business of the day, or,rather, of the night, Elmhurst, home of Elisabeth, was my immediateMecca.

  I had clad myself as well as I could in the fashion of my time, andflattered myself, as I looked in my little mirror, that I made none suchbad figure of a man. I was tall enough, and straight, thin with longhours afoot or in the saddle, bronzed to a good color, and if health didnot show on my face, at least I felt it myself in the lightness of mystep, in the contentedness of my heart with all of life, in my generalassurance that all in the world meant well toward me and that everythingin the world would do well by me. We shall see what license there wasfor this.

  As to Elisabeth Churchill, it might have been in line with aMaryland-custom had she generally been known as Betty; but Betty shenever was called, although that diminutive was applied to her aunt,Jennings, twice as large as she, after whom she had been named. Bettyimplies a snub nose; Elisabeth's was clean-cut and straight. Betty runsfor a saucy mouth and a short one; Elisabeth's was red and curved, butfirm and wide enough for strength and charity as well. Betty spellsround eyes, with brows arched above them as though in query andcuriosity; the eyes of Elisabeth were long, her brows long and straightand delicately fine. A Betty might even have red hair; Elisabeth's wasbrown in most lights, and so liquid smooth that almost I was disposed tocall it dense rather than thick. Betty would seem to indicate a natureimpulsive, gay, and free from care; on the other hand, it was to be saidof Elisabeth that she was logical beyond her kind--a trait which she gotfrom her mother, a daughter of old Judge Henry Gooch, of our SuperiorCourt. Yet, disposed as she always was to be logical in her conclusions,the great characteristic of Elisabeth was serenity, consideration andcharity.

  With all this, there appeared sometimes at the surface of Elisabeth'snature that fire and lightness and impulsiveness which she got from herfather, Mr. Daniel Churchill. Whether she was wholly reserved andreasonable, or wholly warm and impulsive, I, long as I had known andloved her, never was quite sure. Something held me away, somethingcalled me forward; so that I was always baffled, and yet always eager,God wot. I suppose this is the way of women. At times I have beenimpatient with it, knowing my own mind well enough.

  At least now, in my tight-strapped trousers and my long blue coat and mydeep embroidered waistcoat and my high stock, my shining boots and mytall beaver, I made my way on my well-groomed horse up to the gates ofold Elmhurst; and as I rode I pondered and I dreamed.

  But Miss Elisabeth was not at home, it seemed. Her father, Mr. DanielChurchill, rather portly and now just a trifle red of face, met meinstead. It was not an encounter for which I devoutly wished, but onewhich I knew it was the right of both of us to expect ere long. Seeingthe occasion propitious, I plunged at once _in medias res_. Part of thetime explanatory, again apologetic, and yet again, I trust, assertive,although always blundering and red and awkward, I told the father of myintended of my own wishes, my prospects and my plans.

  He listened to me gravely and, it seemed to me, with none of thatenthusiasm which I would have welcomed. As to my family, he knew enough.As to my prospects, he questioned me. My record was not unfamiliar tohim. So, gaining confidence at last under the insistence of what I knewwere worthy motives, and which certainly were irresistible ofthemselves, so far as I was concerned, I asked him if we might not soonmake an end of this, and, taking chances as they were, allow my weddingwith Elisabeth to take place at no very distant date.

  "Why, as to that, of course I do not know what my girl will say," wenton Mr. Daniel Churchill, pursing up his lips. He looked not whollylovable to me, as he sat in his big chair. I wondered that he should befather of so fair a human being as Elisabeth.

  "Oh, of course--that," I answered; "Miss Elisabeth and I--"

  "The skeesicks!" he exclaimed. "I thought she told me everything."

  "I think Miss Elisabeth tells no one quite everything," I ventured. "Iconfess she has kept me almost as much in the dark as yourself, sir. ButI only wanted to ask if, after I have seen her to-day, and if I shouldgain her consent to an early day, you would not waive any objections onyour own part and allow the matter to go forward as soon as possible?"

  In answer to this he arose from his chair and stood looking out of thewindow, his back turned to me. I could not call his reception of mysuggestion enthusiastic; but at last he turned.

  "I presume that our two families might send you young people a sack ofmeal or a side of bacon now and then, as far as that is concerned," hesaid.

  I could not call this speech joyous.

  "There are said to be risks in any union, sir," I ventured to say. "Iadmit I do not follow you in contemplating any risk whatever. If eitheryou or your daughter doubts my loyalty or affection, then I should saycertainly it were wise to end all this; but--" and I fancied Istraightened perceptibly--"I think that might perhaps be left to MissElisabeth herself."

  After all, Mr. Dan Churchill was obliged to yield, as fathers have beenobliged from the beginning of the world. At last he told me I might takemy fate in my own hands and go my way.

  Trust the instinct of lovers to bring them together! I was quiteconfident that at that hour I should find Elisabeth and her aunt in thebig East Room at the president's reception, the former looking on withher uncompromising eyes at the little pageant which on reception daysregularly went forward there.

  My conclusion was correct. I found a boy to hold my horse in front ofGautier's cafe. Then I hastened off across the intervening blocks andthrough the grounds of the White House, in which presently, having edgedthrough the throng in the ante-chambers, I found myself in that inaneprocession of individuals who passed by in order, each to receive thelimp handshake, the mechanical bow and the perfunctory smite ofPresident Tyler--rather a tall, slender-limbed, active man, and of verydecent presence, although his thin, shrunken cheeks and his coldblue-gray eye left little quality of magnetism in his personality.

  It was not new to me, of course, this pageant, although it never lackedof interest. There were in the throng representatives of all America asit was then, a strange, crude blending of refinement and vulgarity, ofease and poverty, of luxury and thrift. We had there merchants fromPhiladelphia and New York, politicians from canny New England and notless canny Pennsylvania. At times there came from the Old World menrepresentative of an easier and more opulent life, who did not alwaystrouble to suppress their smiles at us. Moving among these were ladiesfrom every state of our Union, picturesque enough in their wide floweredskirts and their flaring bo
nnets and their silken mitts, each rivallingthe other in the elegance of her mien, and all unconsciously outdone incharm, perhaps, by some demure Quakeress in white and dove color,herself looking askance on all this form and ceremony, yet unwilling toleave the nation's capital without shaking the hand of the nation'schief. Add to these, gaunt, black-haired frontiersmen from across theAlleghanies; politicians from the South, clean-shaven, pompous,immaculately clad; uneasy tradesmen from this or the other corner oftheir commonwealth. A motley throng, indeed!

  A certain air of gloom at this time hung over official Washington, forthe minds of all were still oppressed by the memory of that fatalaccident--the explosion of the great cannon "Peacemaker" on board thewar vessel _Princeton_--which had killed Mr. Upshur, our secretary ofstate, with others, and had, at one blow, come so near to depriving thisgovernment of its head and his official family; the number of prominentlives thus ended or endangered being appalling to contemplate. It wasthis accident which had called Mr. Calhoun forward at a nationaljuncture of the most extreme delicacy and the utmost importance. Inspite of the general mourning, however, the informal receptions at theWhite House were not wholly discontinued, and the administration,unsettled as it was, and fronted by the gravest of diplomatic problems,made such show of dignity and even cheerfulness as it might.

  I considered it my duty to pass in the long procession and to shake thehand of Mr. Tyler. That done, I gazed about the great room, carefullyscan-fling the different little groups which were accustomed to formafter the ceremonial part of the visit was over. I saw many whom Iknew. I forgot them; for in a far corner, where a flood of light camethrough the trailing vines that shielded the outer window, my anxiouseyes discovered the object of my quest--Elisabeth.

  It seemed to me I had never known her so fair as she was that morning inthe great East Room of the White House. Elisabeth was rather taller thanthe average woman, and of that splendid southern figure, slender butstrong, which makes perhaps the best representative of our Americanbeauty. She was very bravely arrayed to-day in her best pink-floweredlawn, made wide and full, as was the custom of the time, but not soclumsily gathered at the waist as some, and so serving not wholly toconceal her natural comeliness of figure. Her bonnet she had removed. Icould see the sunlight on the ripples of her brown hair, and the shadowswhich lay above her eyes as she turned to face me, and the slow pinkwhich crept into her cheeks.

  Dignified always, and reserved, was Elisabeth Churchill. But now I hopeit was not wholly conceit which led me to feel that perhaps the warmth,the glow of the air, caught while riding under the open sky, the sightof the many budding roses of our city, the scent of the blossoms whicheven then came through the lattice--the meeting even with myself, solately returned--something at least of this had caused an awakening inher girl's heart. Something, I say, I do not know what, gave hergreeting to me more warmth than was usual with her. My own heart, eagerenough to break bounds, answered in kind. We stood--blushing likechildren as our hands touched--forgotten in that assemblage ofWashington's pomp and circumstance.

  "How do you do?" was all I could find to say. And "How do you do?" wasall I could catch for answer, although I saw, in a fleeting way, aglimpse of a dimple hid in Elisabeth's cheek. She never showed it savewhen pleased. I have never seen a dimple like that of Elisabeth's.

  Absorbed, we almost forgot Aunt Betty Jennings--stout, radiant,snub-nosed, arch-browed and curious, Elisabeth's chaperon. On the whole,I was glad Aunt Betty Jennings was there. When a soldier approaches apoint of danger, he does not despise the cover of natural objects. AuntBetty appeared to me simply as a natural object at the time. I soughther shelter.

  "Aunt Betty," said I, as I took her hand; "Aunt Betty, have we told you,Elisabeth and I?"

  I saw Elisabeth straighten in perplexity, doubt or horror, but I wenton.

  "Yes, Elisabeth and I--"

  "You _dear_ children!" gurgled Aunt Betty.

  "Congratulate us both!" I demanded, and I put Elisabeth's hand, coveredwith my own, into the short and chubby fingers of that estimable lady.Whenever Elisabeth attempted to open her lips I opened mine before, andI so overwhelmed dear Aunt Betty Jennings with protestations of myregard for her, my interest in her family, her other nieces, herchickens, her kittens, her home--I so quieted all her questions byassertions and demands and exclamations, and declarations that Mr.Daniel Churchill had given his consent, that I swear for the moment evenElisabeth believed that what I had said was indeed true. At least, I cantestify she made no formal denial, although the dimple was nowfrightened out of sight.

  Admirable Aunt Betty Jennings! She forestalled every assertion I made,herself bubbling and blushing in sheer delight. Nor did she lack incharity. Tapping me with her fan lightly, she exclaimed: "You rogue! Iknow that you two want to be alone; that is what you want. Now I amgoing away--just down the room. You will ride home with us after a time,I am sure?"

  Adorable Aunt Betty Jennings! Elisabeth and I looked at her comfortableback for some moments before I turned, laughing, to look Elisabeth inthe eyes.

  "You had no right--" began she, her face growing pink.

  "Every right!" said I, and managed to find a place for our two handsunder cover of the wide flounces of her figured lawn as we stood, bothblushing. "I have every right. I have truly just seen your father. Ihave just come from him."

  She looked at me intently, glowingly, happily.

  "I could not wait any longer," I went on. "Within a week I am going tohave an office of my own. Let us wait no longer. I have waited longenough. Now--"

  I babbled on, and she listened. It was strange place enough for abetrothal, but there at least I said the words which bound me; and inthe look Elisabeth gave me I saw her answer. Her eyes were wide andstraight and solemn. She did not smile.

  As we stood, with small opportunity and perhaps less inclination formuch conversation, my eyes chanced to turn toward the main entrance doorof the East Room. I saw, pushing through, a certain page, a young boy ofgood family, who was employed by Mr. Calhoun as messenger. He knew meperfectly well, as he did almost every one else in Washington, and withprecocious intelligence his gaze picked me out in all that throng.

  "Is that for me?" I asked, as he extended his missive.

  "Yes," he nodded. "Mr. Calhoun told me to find you and to give you thisat once."

  I turned to Elisabeth. "If you will pardon me?" I said. She made way forme to pass to a curtained window, and there, turning my back and usingsuch secrecy as I could, I broke the seal.

  The message was brief. To be equally brief I may say simply that itasked me to be ready to start for Canada that night on businessconnected with the Department of State! Of reasons or explanations itgave none.

  I turned to Elisabeth and held out the message from my chief. She lookedat it. Her eyes widened. "Nicholas!" she exclaimed.

  I looked at her in silence for a moment. "Elisabeth," I said at last, "Ihave been gone on this sort of business long enough. What do you say tothis? Shall I decline to go? It means my resignation at once."

  I hesitated. The heart of the nation and the nation's life were aboutme. Our state, such as it was, lay there in that room, and with it ourproblems, our duties, our dangers. I knew, better than most, that therewere real dangers before this nation at that very hour. I was a lover,yet none the less I was an American. At once a sudden plan came into mymind.

  "Elisabeth," said I, turning to her swiftly, "I will agree to nothingwhich will send me away from you again. Listen, then--" I raised a handas she would have spoken. "Go home with your Aunt Betty as soon as youcan. Tell your father that to-night at six I shall be there. Be ready!"

  "What do you mean?" she panted. I saw her throat flutter.

  "I mean that we must be married to-night before I go. Before eighto'clock I must be on the train."

  "When will you be back?" she whispered.

  "How can I tell? When I go, my wife shall wait there at Elmhurst,instead of my sweetheart."

  She turned away from me, contempl
ative. She, too, was young. Ardorappealed to her. Life stood before her, beckoning, as to me. What couldthe girl do or say?

  I placed her hand on my arm. We started toward the door, intending topick up Aunt Jennings on our way. As we advanced, a group before usbroke apart. I stood aside to make way for a gentleman whom I did notrecognize. On his arm there leaned a woman, a beautiful woman, clad in acostume of flounced and rippling velvet of a royal blue which made herthe most striking figure in the great room. Hers was a personality noteasily to be overlooked in any company, her face one not readily to beequalled. It was the Baroness Helena von Ritz!

  We met face to face. I presume it would have been too much to ask evenof her to suppress the sudden flash of recognition which she showed. Atfirst she did not see that I was accompanied. She bent to me, asthough to adjust her gown, and, without a change in the expression ofher face, spoke to me in an undertone no one else could hear.

  "Wait!" she murmured "There is to be a meeting--" Page79]

  "Wait!" she murmured. "There is to be a meeting--" She had time for nomore as she swept by.

  Alas, that mere moments should spell ruin as well as happiness! This newwoman whom I had wooed and found, this new Elisabeth whose hand lay onmy arm, saw what no one else would have seen--that little flash ofrecognition on the face of Helena von Ritz! She heard a whisper pass.Moreover, with a woman's uncanny facility in detail, she took in everyitem of the other's costume. For myself, I could see nothing of thatcostume now save one object--a barbaric brooch of double shells andbeaded fastenings, which clasped the light laces at her throat.

  The baroness had perhaps slept as little as I the night before. If Ishowed the ravages of loss of sleep no more than she, I was fortunate.She was radiant, as she passed forward with her escort for place in theline which had not yet dwindled away.

  "You seem to know that lady," said Elisabeth to me gently.

  "Did I so seem?" I answered. "It is professional of all to smile in theEast Room at a reception," said I.

  "Then you do not know the lady?"

  "Indeed, no. Why should I, my dear girl?" Ah, how hot my face was!

  "I do not know," said Elisabeth. "Only, in a way she resembles a certainlady of whom we have heard rather more than enough here in Washington."

  "Put aside silly gossip, Elisabeth," I said. "And, please, do notquarrel with me, now that I am so happy. To-night--"

  "Nicholas," she said, leaning just a little forward and locking herhands more deeply in my arm, "don't you know you were telling me onetime about the little brooch you were going to bring me--an Indianthing--you said it should be my--my wedding present? Don't you rememberthat? Now, I was thinking--"

  I stood blushing red as though detected in the utmost villainy. And thegirl at my side saw that written on my face which now, within the verymoment, it had become her _right_ to question! I turned to her suddenly.

  "Elisabeth," said I, "you shall have your little brooch to-night, if youwill promise me now to be ready and waiting for me at six. I will havethe license."

  It seemed to me that this new self of Elisabeth's--warmer, yielding,adorable--was slowly going away from me again, and that her old self,none the less sweet, none the less alluring, but more logical andquestioning, had taken its old place again. She put both her hands on myarm now and looked me fairly in the face, where the color stillproclaimed some sort of guilt on my part, although my heart was cleanand innocent as hers.

  "Nicholas," she said, "come to-night. Bring me my little jewel--andbring--"

  "The minister! If I do that, Elisabeth, you will marry me then?"

  "Yes!" she whispered softly.

  Amid all the din and babble of that motley throng I heard the word, lowas it was. I have never heard a voice like Elisabeth's.

  An instant later, I knew not quite how, her hand was away from my arm,in that of Aunt Betty, and they were passing toward the main door,leaving me standing with joy and doubt mingled in my mind.