Love stories; Reconstruction (U.S. history, 1865-1877) -- Fiction; Southern States -- History -- 1865-1877 -- Fiction
I smiled again, and then began to think it all over. Mars was a total
stranger to me. I had never seen him before in my life, and, so long as
we remained on an equal footing as strangers to the fair K. C., I had
been disposed to indulge in a little of the usual jealousy of "military
interference," and, from my exalted stand-point as a man of the world
and at least ten years his senior in age, to look upon him as a boy with
no other attractions than his buttons and a good figure; but Beauty's
answer set me to thinking. I was a Yankee, too, only she didn't know it;
if she had, perhaps Mars would have stood the better chance of the two.
I, too, had borne arms against the Sunny South (as a valiant militia-man
when the first call came in '61), and had only escaped wearing the
uniform she detested from the fact that our regimental rig was gray, and
my talents had never conspired to raise me above the rank of
lance-corporal. I, too, had participated in the desecration of the
"sacred soil" (digging in the hot sun at the first earthworks we threw
up across the Long Bridge); in fact, if she only knew it, there was
probably more reason, more real cause, for resentment against me, than
against the handsome, huffy stripling two seats in front.
He was a "Yank," of course; but judging from the smooth, ruddy cheek,
and the downiest of downy moustaches fringing his upper lip, had but
just cut loose from the apron-strings of his maternal West Point. Why!
he must have been at school when we of the old Seventh tramped down
Broadway that April afternoon to the music of "Sky-rockets," half
drowned in stentorian cheers. In fact, I began, in the few seconds it
took me to consider this, to look upon Mars as rather an ill-used
individual. Very probably he was stationed somewhere in the vicinity,
for loud appeals had been made for regular cavalry ever since the year
previous, when the Ku-Klux began their devilment in the neighborhood.
Very probably he knew Judge Summers; visited at his plantation; had
heard of Miss Kitty's coming, and was disposed to show her attention.
Meeting her on the train alone and unescorted, he had done nothing more
than was right in offering his services. He had simply acted as a
gentleman, and been rebuffed. Ah, Miss Kitty, you must, indeed, be very
young, thought I, and so asked,--
"Have you been long in the South since the war, Miss Carrington?"
"I? Oh, no! We lived in Kentucky before the war, and when it broke out
mother took me abroad. I was a little bit of a girl then, and was put at
school in Paris, but mother died very soon afterwards, and then auntie
took charge of me. Why, I only left school last June!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account