United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
Where was it? It had been carried by six sweating negroes up the
narrow stairs into the Judge's office. Stephen and Shadrach had by Mr.
Whipple's orders cleared a corner of his inner office and bedroom of
papers and books and rubbish, and there the bulky instrument was finally
set up. It occupied one-third of the space. The Judge watched the
proceeding grimly, choking now and again from the dust that was raised,
yet uttering never a word. He locked the lid when the van man handed him
the key, and thrust that in his pocket.
Stephen had of late found enough to do in St. Louis. He was the kind of
man to whom promotions came unsought, and without noise. In the autumn
he had been made a captain in the Halleck Guards of the State Militia,
as a reward for his indefatigable work in the armories and his knowledge
of tactics. Twice his company had been called out at night, and once
they made a campaign as far as the Merimec and captured a party of
recruits who were destined for Jefferson Davis. Some weeks passed before
Mr. Brinsmade heard of his promotion and this exploit, and yet scarcely
a day went by that he did not see the young man at the big hospital. For
Stephen helped in the work of the Sanitary Commission too, and so strove
to make up in zeal for the service in the field which he longed to give.
After Christmas Mr. and Mrs. Brinsmade moved out to their place on the
Bellefontaine Road. This was to force Anne to take a rest. For the
girl was worn out with watching at the hospitals, and with tending
the destitute mothers and children from the ranks of the refugees. The
Brinsmade place was not far from the Fair Grounds,--now a receiving
camp for the crude but eager regiments of the Northern states. To Mr.
Brinsmade's, when the day's duty was done, the young Union officers
used to ride, and often there would be half a dozen of them to tea. That
house, and other great houses on the Bellefontaine Road with which this
history has no occasion to deal, were as homes to many a poor fellow who
would never see home again. Sometimes Anne would gather together such
young ladies of her acquaintance from the neighbor hood and the city as
their interests and sympathies permitted to waltz with a Union officer,
and there would be a little dance. To these dances Stephen Brice was
usually invited.
One such occasion occurred on a Friday in January, and Mr. Brinsmade
himself called in his buggy and drove Stephen to the country early in
the afternoon. He and Anne went for a walk along the river, the surface
of which was broken by lumps of yellow ice. Gray clouds hung low in the
sky as they picked their way over the frozen furrows of the ploughed
fields. The grass was all a yellow-brown, but the north wind which
swayed the bare trees brought a touch of color to Anne's cheeks. Before
they realized where they were, they had nearly crossed the Bellegarde
estate, and the house itself was come into view, standing high on the
slope above the withered garden. They halted.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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