CHAPTER XLVII. THE AN AUTUMNAL VISIT. "Why linger, why turn back, why shrink, my heart? They have departed; thou shouldst now depart." — Shelley. HE defunct having left no will, administrators of his estate were appointed. These deemed it proper to be guided by the wishes of the widow and the daughter, notwithstanding the latter was still a minor. Those wishes were, that the identification of Miss Berwick, conclusive as it was, should be frankly admitted, and her property, with its accumulated interest, restored to her without a contest. There was a friendly hearing in chambers, before the probate and other judges. The witnesses were all carefully examined; the contents of the sealed package in the little trunk were identified; and at last, in accordance with high legal and judicial approval, the vast estate, constituting nearly two-thirds of the amount left by Charlton, was transferred to trustees to be held till Clara should be of age. And thus finally did Vance carry his point, and establish the rights of the orphan of the Pontiac. It was on a warm, pleasant day in the last week of September, 1862, that he called to take leave of her. Little more than an hour's drive beyond the Central Park brought him to a private avenue, at the stately gate of which he found children playing. One of these was a cripple, who, as he darted round on his little crutch, chasing or being chased, seemed the embodiment of Joy exercising under difficulties. His name was Andrew Rusk. An old colored woman who was carrying a basket of fruit to some invalid in the neighborhood, stopped and begged Andrew not to break his neck. Vance, recognizing Esha, asked if Clara was at home. "Yes, Massa Vance; she 'll be powerful glad to see yer." While Vance is waiting in a large and lofty drawing-room for her appearance, let us review some of the incidents that have transpired since we encountered her last. One of Clara's first acts, on being put in partial possession of her ancestral estate, had been to present her aunt Pompilard with a furnished house, retaining for herself the freedom of a few rooms. The house stood on a broad, picturesque semicircle of rocky table-land, that protruded like a huge bracket from a pleasant declivity, partly wooded, in view of the Palisades of the Hudson. The grounds included acres enough to satisfy the most aspiring member of the Horticultural Society. The house, also, was sufficiently spacious, not only for present, but for prospective grandchildren of the Pompilard stock. To the young Iretons and Purlings it was a blessed change from Lavinia Street to this new place. Amid these sylvan scenes, these green declivities and dimpling hollows, these gardens beautiful, and groves and orchards, the wounded Major and aspiring author, Cecil Purling, grew rapidly convalescent. The moment it was understood in fashionable circles that, through Clara's access to fortune, he stood no longer in need of help, subscribers to his history poured in not merely by dozens, but by hundreds. He soon had confirmation made doubly sure that he should have the glorious privilege of being independent through his own unaided efforts. This time there is no danger that he will ruin a publisher. The work proceeds. On your library shelf, O friendly reader, please leave a vacant space for six full-sized duodecimos ! Pompilard's first great dinner, on being settled in his new home, was given in honor of the Maloneys. In reply to the written invitation, Maloney wrote, "The beggarly Irish tailor accepts for himself and family." On entering the house, he asked a private interview with Pompilard, and thereupon bullied him so far, that the old man signed a solemn pledge abjuring Wall Street, and all financial operations of a speculative character thenceforth forever. The dinner was graced by the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Ripper, both of them now furious Abolitionists, and proud of the name. The lady was at last emphatically of the opinion that "Slavery will be come up with." Clara had Esha and Hattie to wait on her, though rather in the capacity of friends than of servants. Having got from Mrs. Ripper a careful estimate of the amount paid by Ratcliff for the support and education of his putative slave, Clara had it repaid with interest. The money came to him most acceptably. His large investments in slaves had ruined him. His "maid-servants and man-servants"* had flocked to the old flag and found freedom. A piteous communication from him appeared on the occasion in the Richmond Whig. We quote from it a single passage. "What contributed most to my mortification was, that in my whole gang of slaves, among whom there were any amount of Aarons, Abrahams, Isaacs, and Jacobs, there was not one Abdiel, not one remained loyal to the Rebel." The philosophical editor, in his comments, endeavored to shield his beloved slavery from inferential prejudice, and said: "The escaped slave is ungrateful; therefore, slavery is wrong! Children are often ungrateful; does it follow that the relation of parent and child is wrong?"† Could even Mr. Carlyle have put it more cogently? The money received by Clara from Mrs. Ratcliff's private estate was all appropriated to the establishment of an institution in New Orleans for the education of the children of freed slaves. To this fund Madame Volney not only added from her own legacy, but she went back to New Orleans to superintend the initiation of the humane and important enterprise. "Into each life some rain must fall." The day after the dinner to the Maloneys intelligence came of the death of Captain Ireton. He had been hung by the fierce slaveocracy at Richmond as a spy. It was asserted that he had joined the Rebel Engineer Corps, at Island Number Ten, to obtain information for the United States. However this may have been, it is certain he was not captured in the capacity of a spy; and every one acquainted with the usages of civilized warfare will recognize the atrocity of hanging a man on the ground that he had formerly acted as a spy. The Richmond papers palliated *See Mr. Jefferson Davis's proclamation for a fast, March, 1863. ↑ These quotations are genuine, as many newspaper readers will recollect. the murder by saying Ireton had "confessed himself to be a spy." As if any judicial tribunal would hang a man on his own confession! "Would you make me bear testimony against myself?" said Joan of Arc to her judges. Much to the disgust of the pro-slavery leaders, who had counted on a display of that cowardice which they had taught the Southern people to regard as inseparable from Yankee blood, Ireton met his death cheerily, as a bridegroom would go forth to take the hand of his beloved.* It reminded them unpleasantly of old John Brown. "Whether on the gallows high Or in the battle's van, Is where he dies for man." The news of Ireton's death was mentioned by Captain Onslow while making a morning call on Miss Charlton. Her mother had dressed herself to drive out on some visits of charity. As she was passing through the hall to her carriage, Lucy called her into the drawing-room and communicated the report. The widow turned deadly pale, and left the room without speaking. She gave up her drive for that day, and commissioned Lucy to fulfil the beneficent errands she had planned. Captain Onslow begged so hard to be permitted to accompany Lucy, that, after a brief consultation between mother and daughter, consent was given. Thus are Nature and Human Life ever offering their tragic contrasts! Here the withered leaf; and there, under the decaying mould, the green germ! Here Grief, finding its home in the stricken heart; and there thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair! *The case seems to have been precisely parallel to that of Spencer Kellogg Brown, hung in Richmond, September 25th, 1863, as a spy. On the 18th of that month, Brown told the Rev. William G. Scandlin of Massachusetts (see the latter's published letter), that they had kept him there in prison "until all his evidence had been sent away, allowed him but fifteen hours to prepare for his defence, and denied him the privilege of counsel." Brown was captured by guerillas, not while he was acting as a spy, but while returning from destroying a rebel ferry-boat near Port Hudson, which he had done under the order of Captain Porter. The hanging of this man was as shameless a murder as was ever perpetrated by Thugs. But Slavery, disappointed in the hanging of Captains Sawyer and Flynn, was yelling lustily for a Yankee to hang; and Jeff Davis was not man enough to say "No." Colonel Delancy Hyde speedily had an opportunity of showing the sincerity of his conversion, political and moral. He went into the fight at South Mountain, and was by the side of General Reno when that loyal and noble officer (Virginiaborn) fell mortally wounded. For gallant conduct on that occasion Hyde was put on General Mansfield's staff, and saw him, too, fall, three days after Reno, in the great fight at Antietam. On this occasion Hyde lost a leg, but had the satisfaction of seeing his nephew, Delancy junior, come out unscathed, and with the promise of promotion for gallantry in carrying the colors of the regiment after three successive bearers had been shot dead. Hyde was presented with a wooden leg, of which he was quite proud. But the great event of his life was the establishment of his sister, the Widow Rusk, with her children, in a comfortable cottage on the outskirts of Pompilard's grounds, where the family were well provided for by Clara. Here on the piazza, looking out on the river, the Colonel played with the children, watched the boats, and read the newspapers. Perhaps one of the profoundest of his emotions was experienced the day he saw in one of the pictorial papers a picture of Delancy junior, bearing a flag riddled by bullets. But the Colonel's heart felt a redoubled thrill when he read the following paragraph: "This young and gallant color-bearer is, we learn, a descendant of an illustrious Virginia family, his ancestor, Delancy Hyde, having come over with the first settlers. Nobly has the youth adhered to the traditions of the Washingtons and the Madisons. His uncle, the brave Colonel Hyde, was one of the severely wounded in the late battle." The Colonel did not faint, but he came nearer to it than ever before in his life. Can the Ethiopian change his skin? It has generally been thought not. But there was certainly an element of grace in Hyde which now promised to bleach the whole moral complexion of the man; and that element, though but as a grain of mustard-seed, was love for his sister and her offspring. Mr. Semmes was glad to receive, as the recompense for his services, the exemption of certain property from confiscation. |