"Cowardly Yankees!" said Ransom.

"That is Preston's favourite word," I remarked. "But I am not clear that you are not both mistaken."

"You have lived among Yankees, till it has hurt you," said Ransom.

"Till I have learned to know something about them," I said.

"And is your judgment of the probable issue of the war, different from that I have expressed, Miss Randolph?" Mr. De Saussure asked.

"My judgment is not worth much," I said. "I have doubts."

"But you agree with us as to the right of preserving our independence?" Mr. Marshall said.

"Does independence mean, the governing power? Does every minority, as such, lose its independence?"

"Yes!" said De Saussure - "if it is to be permanently a minority."

"That would be our case, you see," Mr. Marshall went on. "Are we not justified in endeavouring to escape from such a position?"

I was most unwilling to talk on the subject, but they were all determined I should. I could not escape.

"It depends," I said, "the settlement of that question, upon the other question, whether our government is one or twenty."

"It is thirty!" said Ransom.

I had thrown a ball now which they could keep up without me.

To my joy, the whole three became so much engaged in the game, that I was forgotten. I could afford to forget too; and quitting the fair lake and the glorious mountain that looked down upon it, ceasing to hear the eager debate which went on at my side, my thoughts flew over the water to a uniform and a sword that were somewhere in that struggle of rights and wrongs. My heart sank. So far off, and I could not reach him; so busy against the feelings and prejudices of my friends, and I could not reconcile them; in danger, and I could not be near; in trouble, perhaps, and I could not help. It would not do to think about. I brought my thoughts back, and wondered at old Mont Pilatte which looked so steadily down on me with the calm of the ages.

CHAPTER X.

WAITING

For weeks after this sail on the lake my life was like a fete day. Expeditions of all sorts were planned and carried out for my pleasure. One day we were exploring the lake sh.o.r.es in a boat; the next, we went back into the country, as far as we could go and return before evening; a third day we climbed the mountains somewhere and got glorious new views of what the world is. Nothing could hinder, in those days, but that my draught of pleasure was very full. Whatever weight might lie at my heart, when I found myself high, high up above the ordinary region of life, resting on a mountain summit from which I looked down upon all that surrounded me other days; a little of that same lifting up befel the thoughts of my heart and the views that have to do with the spirit's life. I stood above the region of mists for a little. I saw how the inequalities of the lower level, which perplex us there, sink into nothing when looked upon from a higher standpoint. I saw that rough roads led to quiet valleys; and that the blessed sunlight was always lying on the earth, though down in one of those depths one might lose sight of it for a time. I do not know how it is, but getting up into a high mountain has a little the effect of getting out of the world. One has left perplexities and uncertainties behind; the calm and the strength of the everlasting hills is about one; the air is not defiled with contentions or rivalries or jealousies up there; and the glory of creation reminds one of other glory, and power, and wisdom and might; and one breathes hope and rest.

So I used to do. Of all our excursions, I liked best to go up the mountains. No matter how high, or by how difficult a road.

Mamma and papa were only now and then of the party. That I was very sorry for, but it could not be helped. Mamma had seen it all, she said; and when I urged that she had not been to this particular "horn," she said that one "horn" was just like another, and that when you had seen one or two you had seen them all. But I never found it so. Every new time was a new revelation of glory to me. If I could have had papa with me, my satisfaction would have been perfect; but papa shunned fatigue, and never went where he could not go easily. I was obliged to be content with my brother and my brother's friends; and after I had made up my mind to that, the whole way was a rejoicing to me, from the time I left the house till we returned, a weary and hungry party, to claim mamma's welcome again. Our party was always the same four. Mr. de Saussure and Hugh Marshall were, I found, very intimately at home with my father and mother, and naturally they were soon on the same footing with me. As far as care went, I had three brothers to look after me, of whom indeed Ransom was not the most careful; and as to social qualifications, they were extremely well-bred, well-educated, and had a great deal of general and particular cultivation. In the evenings we had music and conversation; which last was always very pleasant except when it turned upon American affairs. Then I had great twinges of heart, which I thought it wise to keep to myself as closely as possible.

I remember well the twinge I had, when one evening early in September De Saussure came in, the utmost glee expressed in his eyes and manner, and announced his news thus; -

"They have had a battle at Springfield, and Lyon is killed."

"Who is Lyon?" I could not help asking, though it was incautious.

"You should not ask," he said more gently as he sat down by me; "you have no relish for these things. Even the cause of liberty cannot sweeten them to you."

"Who is Lyon, De Saussure?" my father repeated.

"A Connecticut fellow." The tone of these words, in its utter disdain, was inexpressible.

"Connecticut?" said my father. "Has the war got into New England? That cannot be."

"No, sir, no, sir," said Ransom. "It is Springfield in Missouri. You find a Yankee wherever you go in this world."

"Wilson's Creek is the place of the battle," Mr. De Saussure went on. "Near Springfield, in Missouri. It was an overwhelming defeat. Lyon killed, and the next in command obliged to beat off."

"Who on our side?" asked my mother.

"Ben McCulloch and Price."

"How many engaged? Was it much of an affair?"

"We had twenty thousand or so. Of course, the others had more."

"It doesn't take but one or two Southerners to whip a score of those cowards," said Ransom.

"Why should not the war have got into New England, Mr.

Randolph?" my mother asked. "You said, 'That cannot be.' Why should it not be?"

"There are a few thousand men in the way," said my father; "and I think they are not all cowards."

"They will never stand before our rifles," said De Saussure.

"Our boys will mow them down like gra.s.s," said Ransom. "And in New Orleans the fever will take care of them. How soon, mother, will the fever be there?"

Mamma and Ransom compared notes upon the probable and usual time for the yellow fever to make its appearance, when it would wield, its scythe of destruction upon the fresh harvest of life made ready for it, in the bands of the Northern soldiers in Louisiana. My whole soul was in a stir of opposition to the speakers. I had to be still, but pain struggled to speak.

"You do not enjoy the prospect -" Hugh Marshall said, softly.

I only looked at him.

"Nor do I," said he, shaking his head. "A fair fight is one thing. - It is a terrible state of affairs at home, Miss Randolph."

I had the utmost difficulty to keep quiet and give no sign. I could have answered him with a cry which would have startled them all. What if Thorold were ordered down there? He might be. He would go where he was ordered. That thought brought help; for so would I! A soldier, in another warfare, I remembered my ways were appointed, even as his; only more wisely, more surely, and on no service that could by any means be in vain. But yet the pain was very sharp, as I looked at the group who were eagerly discussing war matters; my father, my mother, my brother, and De Saussure, who in the interest of the thing had left my side; how keen they were! So were others keen at home, who had swords in their hands and pistols in their belts. It would not do to think. I could but repeat to myself, - "I am a soldier - I am a soldier - and just now my duty is to stand and bear fire."

There was little chance in those days at Lucerne for me to be alone with papa. The opportunities we had we both enjoyed highly. Now and then mamma would be late for breakfast, or even take hers in bed; once in a while go out to a visit from which I begged off. Then papa and I drew together and had a good time. One of these chances occurred a few days after the news came of General Lyon's death. We were alone, and I was drawing, and papa had been watching me a little while in silence.

"Daisy," he began, "am I wrong? It seems to me that you do not look upon matters at home with just the eye that the rest of us have for them?"

"What matters, papa?" I said, looking up, and feeling troubled.

"You do not like the war."

"Papa, - do you?"

"Yes. I think our countrymen are right, and of course I wish that they should have their rights."

"Papa," said I, "don't you think it must be very strong reasons that can justify so dreadful a thing as a war?"