Marsena, and Other Stories of the Wartime — John Shaqi
Marsena, and Other Stories of the WartimeFrederic, Harold
History
Marsena, and Other Stories of the Wartime
Frederic, Harold
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction; United States -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
As for Marsena, he moved about the streets these days with his head
among the stars, in a state of rapt and reverent exaltation. He had
never been what might be called a talker, but now it was as much as
the best of us could do to get any kind of word from him. He did
not seem to talk to Julia any more than to the general public, but
just luxuriated with a dumb solemnity of joy in her company, sitting
sometimes for hours beside her on the piazza of the Parmalee house, or
focusing her pretty image with silent delight on the ground glass of
his best camera day after day, or walking with her, arm in arm, to the
Episcopal church on Sundays. He had always been a Presbyterian before,
but now he bore himself in the prominent Parmalee pew at St. Mark's
with stately correctness, rising, kneeling, seating himself, just as
the others did, and helping Miss Julia hold her Prayer Book with an
air of having known the ritual from childhood.
No doubt a good many people felt that all this was rough on the absent
Dwight Ransom, and probably some of them talked openly about it; but
interest in this aspect of the case was swallowed up in the larger
attention now given to Marsena Pulford himself. It began to be reported
that he really came of an extraordinarily good family in New England,
and that an uncle of his had been in Congress. The legend that he had
means of his own did not take much root, but it was admitted that he
must now be simply coining money. Some went so far as to estimate his
annual profits as high as $1,500, which sounded to the average Octavian
like a dream. It was commonly understood that he had abandoned an
earlier intention to buy a house and lot of his own, and this clearly
seemed to show that he counted upon going presently to live in the
Parmalee mansion. People speculated with idle curiosity as to the
likelihood of this coming to pass before the War ended and Battery G
returned home.
Suddenly great and stirring news fell upon the startled North and set
Octavius thrilling with excitement, along with every other community
far and near. It was in the first week or so of May that the surprise
came; the Rebels, whom we had supposed to be securely locked up in
Yorktown, with no alternative save starvation or surrender, decided not
to remain there any longer, and accordingly marched comfortably off in
the direction of Richmond!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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