Book: 54 40 or Fight

E >> Emerson Hough >> 54 40 or Fight




"I wish that I might," said I.

"Why be churlish with me?" she demanded. "Did I not call at your request
upon a gentleman in a red nightcap at two in the morning? And for your
sake--and the sake of sport--did I not almost promise him many things?
Come now, am I not to see you and explain all that; and hear you explain
all this?" She made a little _moue_ at me.

"It would be my delight, Madam, but there are two reasons--"

"One, then."

"I am going to Montreal to-night, for one."

She gave me a swift glance, which I could not understand.

"So?" she said. "Why so soon?"

"Orders," said I briefly. "But perhaps I may not obey orders for once.
There is another reason."

"And that one?"

"I am to be married at six."

I turned to enjoy her consternation. Indeed, there was an alternate
white and red passed across her face! But at once she was in hand.

"And you allowed me to become your devoted slave," she said, "even to
the extent of calling upon a man in a red nightcap; and then, even upon
a morning like this, when the birds sing so sweetly and the little
flowers show pink and white--now you cast down my most sacred feelings!"

The mockery in her tone was perfect. I scarce had paused to note it. I
was absorbed in one thought--of Elisabeth. Where one fire burns high and
clear upon the altar of the heart, there is small room for any other.

"I might have told you," said I at Last, "but I did not myself know it
until this morning."

"My faith, this country!" she exclaimed with genuine surprise. "What
extraordinary things it does! I have just seen history made between the
lightings of a cigarette, as it were. Now comes this man and announces
that since midnight he has met and won the lady who is to rule his
heart, and that he is to marry her at six!"

"Then congratulate me!" I demanded.

"Ah," she said, suddenly absorbed; "it was that tall girl! Yes, yes, I
see, I see! I understand! So then! Yes!"

"But still you have not congratulated me."

"Ah, Monsieur," she answered lightly, "one woman never congratulates a
man when he has won another! What of my own heart? Fie! Fie!" Yet she
had curious color in her face.

"I do not credit myself with such fatal charms," said I. "Rather say
what of my little clasp there. I promised that to the tall girl, as you
know."

"And might I not wear it for an hour?"

"I shall give you a dozen better some time," said I; "but to-night--"

"And my slipper? I said I must have that back, because I can not hop
along with but one shoe all my life."

"That you shall have as soon as I can get to my rooms at Brown's Hotel
yonder. A messenger shall bring it to you at once. Time will indeed be
short for me. First, the slipper for Madam. Then the license for myself.
Then the minister. Then a friend. Then a carriage. Five miles to
Elmhurst, and the train for the North starts at eight. Indeed, as you
say, the methods of this country are sometimes hurried. Madam, can not
you use your wits in a cause so worthy as mine?"

I could not at the time understand the swift change of her features.
"One woman's wits against another's!" she flashed at me. "As for
that"--She made a swift motion to her throat. "Here is the trinket. Tell
the tall lady it is my present to you. Tell her I may send her a wedding
present--when the wedding really is to happen. Of course, you do not
mean what you have said about being married in such haste?"

"Every word of it," I answered. "And at her own home. 'Tis no runaway
match; I have the consent of her father."

"But you said you had her consent only an hour ago. Ah, this is better
than a play!"

"It is true," said I, "there has not been time to inform Miss
Churchill's family of my need for haste. I shall attend to that when I
arrive. The lady has seen the note from Mr. Calhoun ordering me to
Montreal."

"To Montreal? How curious!" she mused. "But what did Mr. Calhoun say to
this marriage?"

"He forbade the banns."

"But Monsieur will take her before him in a sack--and he will forbid
you, I am sure, to condemn that lady to a life in a cabin, to a couch of
husks, to a lord who would crush her arms and command her--"

I flushed as she reminded me of my own speech, and there came no answer
but the one which I imagine is the verdict of all lovers. "She is the
dearest girl in the world," I declared.

"Has she fortune?"

"I do not know."

"Have you fortune?"

"God knows, no!"

"You have but love-and this country?"

"That is all."

"It is enough," said she, sighing. "Dear God, it is enough! But
then"-she turned to me suddenly--"I don't think you will be married so
soon, after all. Wait."

"That is what Mr. Pakenham wanted Mr. Calhoun to do," I smiled.

"But Mr. Pakenham is not a woman."

"Ah, then you also forbid our banns?"

"If you challenge me," she retorted, "I shall do my worst."

"Then do your worst!" I said. "All of you do your joint worst. You can
not shake the faith of Elisabeth Churchill in me, nor mine in her. Oh,
yes, by all means do your worst!"

"Very well," she said, with a catch of her breath. "At least we both
said--'on guard!'

"I wish I could ask you to attend at our wedding," I concluded, as her
carriage approached the curb; "but it is safe to say that not even
friends of the family will be present, and of those not all the family
will be friends."

She did not seem to see her carriage as it paused, although she prepared
to enter when I opened the door. Her look, absorbed, general, seemed
rather to take in the sweep of the wide grounds, the green of the young
springtime, the bursting of the new white blossoms, the blue of the sky,
the loom of the distant capitol dome--all the crude promise of our young
and tawdry capital, still in the making of a world city. Her eyes passed
to me and searched my face without looking into my eyes, as though I
made part of her study. What sat on her face was perplexity, wonder,
amazement, and something else, I know not what. Something of her perfect
poise and confidence, her quality as woman of the world, seemed to drop
away. A strange and childlike quality came into her face, a pathos
unlike anything I had seen there before. She took my hand mechanically.

"Of course," said she, as though she spoke to herself, "it can not be.
But, dear God! would it not be enough?"

I did not understand her speech. I stood and watched her carriage as it
whirled away. Thinking of my great need for haste, mechanically I
looked at my watch. It was one o'clock. Then I reflected that it was at
eleven of the night previous that I had first met the Baroness von Ritz.
Our acquaintance had therefore lasted some fourteen hours.




CHAPTER X

MIXED DUTIES


Most women will forgive a liberty, rather than a slight.
--_Colton_.


When I crossed the White House grounds and found my way to the spot
where I had left my horse, I discovered my darky boy lying on his back,
fast asleep under a tree, the bridle reins hooked over his upturned
foot. I wakened him, took the reins and was about to mount, when at the
moment I heard my name called.

Turning, I saw emerge from the door of Gautier's little cafe, across the
street, the tall figure of an erstwhile friend of mine, Jack Dandridge,
of Tennessee, credited with being the youngest member in the House of
Representatives at Washington--and credited with little else.

Dandridge had been taken up by friends of Jackson and Polk and carried
into Congress without much plan or objection on either side. Since his
arrival at the capital he had been present at few roll-calls, and had
voted on fewer measures. His life was given up in the main to one
specialty, to-wit: the compounding of a certain beverage, invented by
himself, the constituent parts of which were Bourbon whiskey, absinthe,
square faced gin and a dash of _eau de vie_. This concoction, over which
few shared his own personal enthusiasm, he had christened the
Barn-Burner's Dream; although Mr. Dandridge himself was opposed to the
tenets of the political party thus entitled--which, by the way, was to
get its whimsical name, possibly from Dandridge himself, at the
forthcoming Democratic convention of that year.

Jack Dandridge, it may be said, was originally possessed of a splendid
constitution. Nearly six feet tall, his full and somewhat protruding eye
was as yet only a trifle watery, his wide lip only a trifle loose, his
strong figure only a trifle portly. Socially he had been well received
in our city, and during his stay east of the mountains he had found
occasion to lay desperate suit to the hand of none other than Miss
Elisabeth Churchill. We had been rivals, although not enemies; for Jack,
finding which way the wind sat for him, withdrew like a man, and
cherished no ill will. When I saw him now, a sudden idea came to me, so
that I crossed the street at his invitation.

"Come in," said he. "Come in with me, and have a Dream. I have just
invented a new touch for it; I have, 'pon my word."

"Jack," I exclaimed, grasping him by the shoulder, "you are the man I
want. You are the friend that I need--the very one."

"Certainly, certainly," he said; "but please do not disarrange my
cravat. Sir, I move you the previous question. Will you have a Dream
with me? I construct them now with three additional squirts of the
absinthe." He locked his arm in mine.

"You may have a Dream," said I; "but for me, I need all my head to-day.
In short, I need both our heads as well."

Jack was already rapping with the head of his cane upon the table, to
call an attendant, but he turned to me. "What is the matter? Lady, this
time?"

"Two of them."

"Indeed? One apiece, eh?"

"None apiece, perhaps. In any case, you lose."

"Then the names--or at least one?"

I flushed a bit in spite of myself. "You know Miss Elisabeth Churchill?"

He nodded gravely. "And about the other lady?"

"I can not tell you much about her," said I; "I have but little
knowledge myself. I mean the Baroness von Ritz."

"Oh, ho!" Jack opened his eyes, and gave a long whistle. "State secrets,
eh?"

I nodded, and looked him square in the eye.

"Well, why should you ask me to help you, then? Calhoun is none too good
a friend of Mr. Polk, of my state. Calhoun is neither Whig nor Democrat.
He does not know where he stands. If you train with him, why come to our
camp for help?"

"Not that sort, jack," I answered. "The favor I ask is personal."

"Explain."

He sipped at the fiery drink, which by this time had been placed before
him, his face brightening.

"I must be quick. I have in my possession--on the bureau in my little
room at my quarters in Brown's Hotel--a slipper which the baroness gave
me last night--a white satin slipper--"

Jack finished the remainder of his glass at a gulp. "Good God!" he
remarked.

"Quite right," I retorted hotly. "Accuse me Anything you like! But go to
my headquarters, get that slipper, go to this address with it"--I
scrawled on a piece of paper and thrust it at him--"then get a carriage
and hasten to Elmhurst drive, where it turns in at the road. Wait for me
there, just before six."

He sat looking at me with amusement and amazement both upon his face, as
I went on:

"Listen to what I am to do in the meantime. First I go post haste to Mr.
Calhoun's office. Then I am to take his message, which will send me to
Canada, to-night. After I have my orders I hurry back to Brown's and
dress for my wedding."

The glass in his hand dropped to the floor in splinters.

"Your wedding?"

"Yes, Miss Elisabeth and I concluded this very morning not to wait. I
would ask you to help me as my best man, if I dare."

"You do dare," said he. "You're all a-fluster. Go on; I'll get a
parson--how'll Doctor Halford do?--and I'd take care of the license for
you if I could--Gad! sorry it's not my own!"

"You are the finest fellow in the world, Jack. I have only one thing
more to ask"--I pointed to the splintered glass upon the floor--"Don't
get another."

"Of course not, of course not!" he expostulated. His voice was just a
trifle thickened. We left now together for the license clerk, and I
intrusted the proper document in my friend's hands. An instant later I
was outside, mounted, and off for Calhoun's office at his residence in
Georgetown.

At last, as for the fourth time I flung down the narrow walk and looked
down the street, I saw his well-known form approaching. He walked
slowly, somewhat stooped upon his cane. He raised a hand as I would
have begun to speak. His customary reserve and dignity held me back.

"So you made it out well with the lady," he began.

"Yes," I answered, flushing. "Not so badly for the time that offered."

"A remarkable woman," he said. "Most remarkable!" Then he went on: "Now
as to your own intended, I congratulate you. But I suggest that you keep
Miss Elisabeth Churchill and the Baroness von Ritz pretty well
separated, if that be possible."

"Sir," I stammered; "that certainly is my personal intent. But now, may
I ask--"

"You start to Canada to-night," said Calhoun sharply--all softness gone
from his voice.

"I can not well do that," I began. His hand tapped with decision.

"I have no time to choose another messenger," he said. "Time will not
wait. You must not fail me. You will take the railway train at eight.
You will be joined by Doctor Samuel Ward, who will give you a sealed
paper, which will contain your instructions, and the proper moneys. He
goes as far as Baltimore."

"You would be the better agent," he added presently, "if this love
silliness were out of your head. It is not myself you are serving, and
not my party. It is this country you are serving."

"But, sir--" I began.

His long thin hand was imperative. "Go on, then, with your wedding, if
you will, and if you can; but see that you do not miss the train at
eight!"

Half in a daze, I left him; nor did I see him again that day, nor for
many after.




CHAPTER XI

WHO GIVETH THIS WOMAN

Woman is a miracle of divine contradictions.--_Jules Michelet_.


On my return to my quarters at Brown's I looked at the top of my bureau.
It was empty. My friend Dandridge had proved faithful. The slipper of
the baroness was gone! So now, hurriedly, I began my toilet for that
occasion which to any gentleman should be the one most exacting, the
most important of his life's events.

Elisabeth deserved better than this unseemly haste. Her sweetness and
dignity, her adherence to the forms of life, her acquaintance with the
elegancies, the dignities and conventions of the best of our society,
bespoke for her ceremony more suited to her class and mine. Nothing
could excuse these hurly burly ways save only my love, our uncertainty
regarding my future presence, and the imperious quality of my duties.

I told none about my quarters anything of my plans, but arranged for my
portmanteaus to be sent to the railway station for that evening's train
north. We had not many outgoing and incoming trains in those days in
Washington. I hurried to Bond's jewelry place and secured a ring--two
rings, indeed; for, in our haste, betrothal and wedding ring needed
their first use at the same day and hour. I found a waiting carriage
which served my purpose, and into it I flung, urging the driver to carry
me at top speed into Elmhurst road. Having now time for breath, I sat
back and consulted my watch. There were a few moments left for me to
compose myself. If all went well, I should be in time.

As we swung down the road I leaned forward, studying with interest the
dust cloud of an approaching carriage. As it came near, I called to my
driver. The two vehicles paused almost wheel to wheel. It was my friend
Jack Dandridge who sprawled on the rear seat of the carriage! That is to
say, the fleshly portion of Jack Dandridge. His mind, his memory, and
all else, were gone.

I sprang into his carriage and caught him roughly by the arm. I felt in
all his pockets, looked on the carriage floor, on the seat, and pulled
up the dust rug. At last I found the license.

"Did you see the baroness?" I asked, then.

At this he beamed upon me with a wide smile.

"Did I?" said he, with gravity pulling down his long buff waistcoat.
"Did I? Mos' admi'ble woman in all the worl'! Of course, Miss 'Lis'beth
Churchill also mos' admi'ble woman in the worl'," he added politely,
"but I didn't see _her_. Many, many congrash'lations. Mos' admi'ble girl
in worl'--whichever girl she is! I want do what's right!"

The sudden sweat broke out upon my forehead. "Tell me, what have you
done with the slipper!"

He shook his head sadly. "Mishtaken, my friend! I gave mos' admi'ble
slipper in the worl', just ash you said, just as baroness said, to Mish
Elisabeth Churchill--mos' admi'ble woman in the worl'! Proud
congrash'late you both, m' friend!"

"Did you see her?" I gasped. "Did you see her father--any of her
family?"

"God blesh me, no!" rejoined this young statesman. "Feelings delicacy
prevented. Realized having had three--four--five--Barn Burners; washn't
in fit condition to approach family mansion. Alwaysh mos' delicate. Felt
m'self no condition shtan' up bes' man to mosh admi'ble man and mosh
admi'ble girl in worl'. Sent packazh in by servant, from gate--turned
round--drove off--found you. Lo, th' bridegroom cometh! Li'l late!"

My only answer was to spring from his carriage into my own and to order
my driver to go on at a run. At last I reached the driveway of Elmhurst,
my carriage wheels cutting the gravel as we galloped up to the front
door. My approach was noted. Even as I hurried up the steps the tall
form of none other than Mr. Daniel Churchill appeared to greet me. I
extended my hand. He did not notice it. I began to speak. He bade me
pause.

"To what may I attribute this visit, Mr. Trist?" he asked me, with
dignity.

"Since you ask me, and seem not to know," I replied, "I may say that I
am here to marry your daughter, Miss Elisabeth! I presume that the
minister of the gospel is already here?"

"The minister is here," he answered. "There lacks one thing--the bride."

"What do you mean?"

He put out his arm across the door.

"I regret that I must bar my door to you. But you must take my word, as
coming from my daughter, that you are not to come here to-night."

I looked at him, my eyes staring wide. I could not believe what he said.

"Why," I began; "how utterly monstrous!"

A step sounded in the hall behind him, and he turned back. We were
joined by the tall clerical figure of the Reverend Doctor Halford, who
had, it seemed, been at least one to keep his appointment as made. He
raised his hand as if to silence me, and held out to me a certain
object. It was the slipper of the Baroness Helena von Ritz--white,
delicate, dainty, beribboned. "Miss Elisabeth does not pretend to
understand why your gift should take this form; but as the slipper
evidently has been worn by some one, she suggests you may perhaps be in
error in sending it at all." He spoke in even, icy tones.

"Let me into this house!" I demanded. "I must see her!"

There were two tall figures now, who stood side by side in the wide
front door.

"But don't you see, there has been a mistake, a horrible mistake?" I
demanded.

Doctor Halford, in his grave and quiet way, assisted himself to snuff.
"Sir," he said, "knowing both families, I agreed to this haste and
unceremoniousness, much against my will. Had there been no objection
upon either side, I would have undertaken to go forward with the wedding
ceremony. But never in my life have I, and never shall I, join two in
wedlock when either is not in that state of mind and soul consonant with
that holy hour. This ceremony can not go on. I must carry to you this
young lady's wish that you depart. She can not see you."

There arose in my heart a sort of feeling of horror, as though something
was wrong, I could not tell what. All at once I felt a swift revulsion.
There came over me the reaction, an icy calm. I felt all ardor leave me.
I was cold as stone.

"Gentlemen," said I slowly, "what you tell me is absolutely impossible
and absurd. But if Miss Elisabeth really doubts me on evidence such as
this, I would be the last man in the world to ask her hand. Some time
you and she may explain to me about this. It is my right. I shall exact
it from you later. I have no time to argue now. Good-by!"

They looked at me with grave faces, but made no reply. I descended the
steps, the dainty, beribboned slipper still in my hand, got into my
carriage and started back to the city.




CHAPTER XII

THE MARATHON

As if two gods should play some heavenly match, and on this wager
lay two earthly women.--_Shakespeare_.


An automaton, scarcely thinking, I gained the platform of the station.
There was a sound of hissing steam, a rolling cloud of sulphurous smoke,
a shouting of railway captains, a creaking of the wheels. Without
volition of my own, I was on my northward journey. Presently I looked
around and found seated at my side the man whom I then recollected I was
to meet--Doctor Samuel Ward. I presume he took the train after I did.

"What's wrong, Nicholas?" he asked. "Trouble of any kind?"

I presume that the harsh quality of my answer surprised him. He looked
at me keenly.

"Tell me what's up, my son," said he.

"You know Miss Elisabeth Churchill--" I hesitated.

He nodded. "Yes," he rejoined; "and damn you, sir! if you give that girl
a heartache, you'll have to settle with me!"

"Some one will have to settle with me!" I returned hotly.

"Tell me, then."

So, briefly, I did tell him what little I knew of the events of the last
hour. I told him of the shame and humiliation of it all. He pondered for
a minute and asked me at length if I believed Miss Elisabeth suspected
anything of my errand of the night before.

"How could she?" I answered. "So far as I can recollect I never
mentioned the name of the Baroness von Ritz."

Then, all at once, I did recollect! I did remember that I had mentioned
the name of the baroness that very morning to Elisabeth, when the
baroness passed us in the East Room! I had not told the truth--I had
gone with a lie on my lips that very day, and asked her to take vows
with me in which no greater truth ought to be heard than the simple
truth from me to her, in any hour of the day, in any time of our two
lives!

Doctor Ward was keen enough to see the sudden confusion on my face, but
he made no comment beyond saying that he doubted not time would clear it
all up; that he had known many such affairs.

"But mind you one thing," he added; "keep those two women apart."

"Then why do you two doddering old idiots, you and John Calhoun, with
life outworn and the blood dried in your veins, send me, since you
doubt me so much, on an errand of this kind? You see what it has done
for me. I am done with John Calhoun. He may get some other fool for his
service."

"Where do you propose going, then, my friend?"

"West," I answered. "West to the Rockies--"

Doctor Ward calmly produced a tortoise shell snuffbox from his left-hand
waistcoat pocket, and deliberately took snuff. "You are going to do
nothing of the kind," said he calmly. "You are going to keep your
promise to John Calhoun and to me. Believe me, the business in hand is
vital. You go to Canada now in the most important capacity you have ever
had."

"I care nothing for that," I answered bitterly.

"But you are the agent of your country. You are called to do your
country's urgent work. Here is your trouble over one girl. Would you
make trouble for a million American girls--would you unsettle thousands
and thousands of American homes because, for a time, you have known
trouble? All life is only trouble vanquished. I ask you now to be a man;
I not only expect it, but demand it of you!"

His words carried weight in spite of myself. I began to listen. I took
from his hand the package, looked at it, examined it. Finally, as he sat
silently regarding me, I broke the seal.

"Now, Nicholas Trist," resumed Doctor Ward presently, "there is to be
at Montreal at the date named in these papers a meeting of the directors
of the Hudson Bay Company of England. There will be big men there--the
biggest their country can produce; leaders of the Hudson Bay Company,
many, public men even of England. It is rumored that a brother of Lord
Aberdeen, of the British Ministry, will attend. Do you begin to
understand?"

Ah, did I not? Here, then, was further weaving of those complex plots
which at that time hedged in all our history as a republic. Now I
guessed the virtue of our knowing somewhat of England's secret plans, as
she surely did of ours. I began to feel behind me the impulse of John
Calhoun's swift energy.

"It is Oregon!" I exclaimed at last.

Doctor Ward nodded. "Very possibly. It has seemed to Mr. Calhoun very
likely that we may hear something of great importance regarding the far
Northwest. A missed cog now may cost this country a thousand miles of
territory, a hundred years of history."

Doctor Ward continued: "England, as you know," said he, "is the enemy of
this country as much to-day as ever. She claims she wishes Texas to
remain free. She forgets her own record--forgets the burning cities of
Rohilkhand, the imprisoned princesses of Oudh! Might is her right. She
wants Texas as a focus of contention, a rallying point of sectionalism.
If she divides us, she conquers us. That is all. She wants the chance
for the extension of her own hold on this continent, which she will push
as far, and fast as she dare. She must have cotton. She would like land
as well."

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