"No, sirs!" exclaimed Major Perdue. "You young ones have been away from home long enough to be weaned, and a day or two won't make any difference to anybody's feelings. We have long been wanting a red-letter day in this section, and now that we've got the excuse for making one, we're not going to let it go by. Everything is fixed, or will be by day after to-morrow. We're going to have a barbecue half-way between this town and Shady Dale. The time was ripe for it anyhow, and you fellows make it more binding. The people of the two counties haven't had a jollification since the war, and they couldn't have one while it was going on. They haven't had an excuse for it; and now that we have the excuse we're not going to turn it loose until the jollification is over."

And so it was arranged. Notice was given to the people in the old-fashioned way, and nearly everybody in the two counties not only contributed something to the barbecue, but came to enjoy it, and when they were a.s.sembled they made up the largest crowd that had been seen together in that section since the day when Alexander Stephens and Judge Cone had their famous debate--a debate which finally ended in a personal encounter between the two.

The details of the barbecue were in the hands of Mr. Sanders, who was famous in those days for his skill in such matters. The fires had been lighted the night before, and when the sun rose, long lines of carca.s.ses were slowly roasting over the red coals, contributing to the breezes an aroma so persistent and penetrating that it could be recognised miles away, and so delicious that, as Mr. Sanders remarked, "it would make a sick man's mouth water."

A speaker's stand had been erected, and everything was arranged just as it would have been for a political meeting. There was a good deal of formality too. Major Perdue prided himself on doing such things in style. He was a great hand to preside at political meetings, in which there is considerable formality. As the Major managed the affair, the friends of the young men caught their first glimpse of them as they went upon the stand. By some accident, or it may have been arranged by Major Perdue, Gabriel was the first to make his appearance, but he was closely followed by the rest. A tremendous shout went up from the immense audience, which was a.s.sembled in front of the stand, and this was what the Major had arranged for. The shouts and cheers of a great a.s.semblage were as music in his ears. He comported himself with as much pride as if all the applause were a tribute to him. He advanced to the front, and stood drinking it in greedily, not because he was a vain man, but because he was fond of the excitement with which the presence of a crowd inspired him. It made his blood tingle; it warmed him as a gla.s.s of spiced wine warms a sick person.

When the applause had subsided, the Major made quite a little speech, in which he referred to the spirit of martyrdom betrayed by the young patriots, who had been seized and carried into captivity by the strong hand of a tyrannical Government, and he managed to stir the crowd to a great pitch of excitement. He brought his remarks to a close by introducing his young friend, Gabriel Tolliver.

There was tremendous cheering at this, and all of a sudden Gabriel woke up to the fact that his name had been called, and he looked around with a dazed expression on his face. He had been trying to see if he could find the face of Nan Dorrington in the crowd, but so far he had failed, and he woke out of a dream to hear a mult.i.tude of voices shouting his name. "Why, what do they mean?" he asked.

"Get up there and face 'em," said Major Perdue.

Now, Nan was not so very far from the stand, so close, indeed, that she had not been in Gabriel's field of vision while he was sitting down; but when he rose to his feet she was the first person he saw, and he observed that she was very pale. In fact, Nan had shrunk back when the Major announced that Gabriel would speak for his fellow-martyrs, and for a moment or two she fairly hated the man. She might not be very fond of Gabriel, but she didn't want to see him made a fool of before so many people.

Somehow or other, the young fellow divined her thought, and he smiled in spite of himself. He had no notion what to say, but he had the gift of saying something, very strongly developed in him; and he knew the moment he saw Nan's scared face that he must acquit himself with credit. So he looked at her and smiled, and she tried to smile in return, but it was a very pitiful little smile. Gabriel walked to the small table and leaned one hand on it, and his composure was so rea.s.suring to everybody but Nan, that the cheering was renewed and kept up while the youngster was trying to put his poor thoughts together.

He began by thanking Major Perdue for his sympathetic remarks, and then proceeded to take sharp issue with the whole spirit of the Major's speech, using as the basis of his address an idea that had been put into his head by Judge Vardeman. The day before he left Malvern, the Judge had asked him this question: "Why should a parcel of politicians turn us against a Government under which we are compelled to live?"

This was the basis of Gabriel's remarks. He elaborated it, and was perhaps the first person in the country to ask if there was any Confederate soldier who had feelings of hatred against the soldiers of the Union. He had not gone far before he had the audience completely under his control. Almost every statement he made was received with shouts of approval, and in some instances the applause was such that he had time to stand and gaze at Nan, whose colour had returned, and who occasionally waved the little patch of lace-bordered muslin that she called a handkerchief.

She was almost frightened at Gabriel's composure. The last time she had seen him, he was an awkward young man, whose hands and feet were always in his way. She felt that she was his superior then; but how would she feel in the presence of this grave young man, who was as composed while addressing an immense crowd as if he had been talking to Cephas, and who was dealing out advice to his seniors right and left? Nan was very sure in her own mind that she would never understand Gabriel again, and the thought robbed the occasion of a part of its enjoyment. She allowed her thoughts to wander to such an extent that she forgot the speech, and had her mind recalled to it only when the frantic screams of the audience split her ears, and she saw Gabriel, flushed and triumphant, returning to his seat. Then the real nature of his triumph dawned on her, as she saw Meriwether Clopton and all the others on the stand crowding around Gabriel and shaking his hand. She sat very quiet and subdued until she felt some one touch her shoulder. It was Cephas, and he wanted to know what she thought of it all. Wasn't it splendiferous?

Nan made no reply, but gave the little lad a message for Gabriel, which he delivered with promptness. He edged his way through the crowd, crawled upon the stand, and pulled at Gabriel's coat-tails. The great orator--that's what Cephas thought he was--seized the little fellow and hugged him before all the crowd; and though many years have pa.s.sed, Cephas has never had a triumph of any kind that was quite equal to the pride he felt while Gabriel held him in his arms. The little fellow took this occasion to deliver his message, which was to the effect that Gabriel was to ride home in the Dorrington carriage with Nan.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

_Nan Surrenders_

It was all over at last, and Gabriel found himself seated in the carriage, side by side with the demurest and the quietest young lady he had ever seen. He had shaken hands until his arm was sore, and he had hunted for Nan everywhere; and finally, when he had given up the search, he heard her calling him and saw her beckoning him from a carriage.

There was not much of a greeting between them, and he saw at once that, while this was the Nan he had known all his life, she had changed greatly. What he didn't know was that the change had taken place while he was in the midst of his speech. She was just as beautiful as ever; in fact, her loveliness seemed to be enhanced by some new light in her eyes--or was it the way her head drooped?--or a touch of new-born humility in her att.i.tude? Whatever it was, Gabriel found it very charming.

To his surprise, he found himself quite at ease in her presence. The change, if it could be called such, had given him an advantage. "You used to be afraid of me, Gabriel," said Nan, "and now I am afraid of you. No, not afraid; you know what I mean," she explained.

"If I thought you were afraid of me, Nan, I'd get out of the carriage and walk home," and then, as the carriage rolled and rocked along the firm clay road, Gabriel sat and watched her, studying her face whenever he had an opportunity. Neither seemed to have any desire to talk.

Gabriel had forgotten all about his sufferings in the sweat-boxes of Fort Pulaski; but those experiences had left an indelible mark on his character, and on his features. They had strengthened him every way--strengthened and subdued him. He was the same Gabriel, and yet there was a difference, and this difference appealed to Nan in a way that astonished her. She sat in the carriage perfectly happy, and yet she felt that a good cry would help her wonderfully.

"I had something I wanted to say to you, Nan," he remarked after awhile.

"I've wanted to say it for a long time. But, honestly, I'm afraid----"

"Don't say you are afraid, Gabriel. You used to be afraid; but now I'm the one to be afraid. I mean I should be afraid, but I'm not."

"I was feeling very bold when I was mouthing to those people; and every time I looked into your eyes, I said to myself, 'You are mine; you are mine! and you know it!' And I thought all the time that you could hear me. It was a very queer impression. Please don't make fun of me to-day; wait till to-morrow."

"I couldn't hear you," said Nan, "but I could feel what you said."

"That was why you were looking so uneasy," remarked Gabriel. "Perhaps you were angry, too."

"No, I was very happy. I didn't hear your speech, but I knew from the actions of the people around me that it was a good one. But, somehow, I couldn't hear it. I was thinking of other things. Did you think I was bold to send for you?"

"Why, I was coming to you anyway," said Gabriel.

"Well, if you hadn't I should have come to you," said Nan with a sigh.

"Since I received your letter, I haven't been myself any more."

"Did I send you a letter?" asked Gabriel.

"No; you wrote part of one," answered Nan. "But that was enough. I found it among your papers. And then when I heard you had been arrested--well, it is all a dream to me. I didn't know before that one could be perfectly happy and completely miserable at the same time."

Then, for the first time since he had entered the carriage she looked at him. Her eyes met his, and--well, nothing more was said for some time.

Nan had as much as she could do to straighten her hat, and get her hair smoothed out as it should be, so that people wouldn't know that she and Gabriel were engaged. That was what she said, and she was so cute and lovely, so sweet and gentle that Gabriel threatened to crush the hat and get the hair out of order again. And they were very happy.

When they arrived at Shady Dale, Gabriel insisted that Nan go home with him, and he gave what seemed to the young woman a very good reason. "You know, Nan, my grandmother has been Bethuning me every time I mentioned your name, and I have heard her Bethuning you. We'll just go in hand in hand and tell her the facts in the case."

"Hand in hand, Gabriel? Wouldn't she think I was very bold?"

"No, Nan," replied Gabriel, very emphatically. "There are two things my grandmother believes in. She believes in her Bible, and she believes in love."

"And she believes in you, Gabriel. Oh, if you only knew how much she loves you!" cried Nan.

They didn't go in to the dear old lady hand in hand, for when they reached the Lumsden Place, they found Miss Polly Gaither there, and they interrupted her right in the midst of some very interesting gossip. Miss Polly, after greeting Gabriel as cordially as her lonely nature would permit, looked at Nan very critically. There was a question in her eyes, and Nan answered it with a blush.

"I thought as much," said Miss Polly, oracularly. "I declare I believe there's an epidemic in the town. There's Pulaski Tomlin, Silas Tomlin, Paul Tomlin, and now Gabriel Tolliver. Well, I wish them well, especially you, Gabriel. Nan is a little frivolous now, but she'll settle down."

"She isn't frivolous," said Gabriel, speaking in the ear-trumpet; "she is simply young."

"Is that the trouble?" inquired Miss Polly, with a smile, "well, she'll soon recover from that." And then she turned to Gabriel's grandmother, and took up the thread of her gossip where it had been broken by the arrival of Nan and Gabriel.

"I declare, Lucy, if anybody had told me, and I couldn't see for myself, I never would have believed it. Why, Silas Tomlin is a changed man. He looks better than he did twenty-five years ago. He goes about smiling, and while he isn't handsome--he never could be handsome, you know--he is very pleasant-looking. Yes, he is a changed man. He was going into the house just now as I came out, and he stopped and shook hands with me, and asked about my health, something he never did before.

Honestly I don't know what to make of it; I'm clean put out. Why, the man had two or three quarrels with Ritta Claiborne when she first came here, and now he is going to marry her, or she him--I don't know which one did the courting, but I'll never believe it was old Silas. I am really and truly sorry for Ritta Claiborne. We who know Silas Tomlin better than she does ought to warn her of the step she is about to take.

I have been on the point of doing so several times; but really, Lucy, I haven't the heart. She is one of the finest characters I ever knew--she is perfectly lovely. She is all heart, and I am afraid Silas Tomlin has imposed on her in some way. But she is perfectly happy, and so is Silas.

If I thought such a thing was possible, I'd say they were very much in love with each other."

"Possible!" cried Gabriel's grandmother; "why, love is the only thing worth thinking about in this world. Even the Old Testament is full of it, and there is hardly anything else in the New Testament. Read it, Polly, and you'll find that all the sacrifice and devotion are based on love--real love, and unselfish because it is real."

"It may be so, Lucy; I'll not deny it," and then, after some more gossip less interesting, Miss Polly Gaither took her leave, saying, "I'll leave you with your grand-children, Lucy."

When she was gone, Gabriel stood up and beckoned to Nan, and she went to him without a word. He placed his arm around her, and then called the attention of his grandmother.

"You've been Bethuning Nan and me for ever so long, grandmother: what do you think of this?"

"Why, I think it is very pretty, if it is real. I have known it all along; I mean since the night you were carried away. Nan told me."

"Why, Grandmother Lumsden! I never said a word to you about it; I wouldn't have dared."