Douglas Amanda M.
A Little Girl in Old Washington

CHAPTER XV.
A SMALL HERO

Dr. Collaston and his wife opened their new house early in September with quite a grand gathering of friends. It was really very handsome for the times, and the young wife was considered quite an acquisition to society, which was rather fluctuating. Louis Mason esteemed himself very fortunate to obtain a place in the office of Judge Todd of the Supreme Court. Charles and Varina went to Williamsburg to school, and Annis had her mother all to herself once more, for Jaqueline was in great demand at her sister's.

She was not long in meeting Roger Carrington, but they might have been the merest acquaintances. And as if to help the family get over the disappointment, Ralph married a daughter of one of the neighbors, an amiable, home-loving girl, an excellent housekeeper, and quite up in the demands of the society of the day. She came home to live, and Mrs. Carrington had her coveted daughter, who was entirely satisfied with her position.

"We were all very sorry when the difference happened between you and Roger," Mrs. Carrington said gently to Jaqueline the first time they met. "But it was better to learn then that you could not agree than to have to live unhappy afterward. Still, I hope we shall remain friends, and I want a visit from your parents very much."

Jaqueline thanked her gracefully. Truly, it seemed to make little difference. Roger looked older and more dignified, and was in great demand with the inner circle of both men and women.

There were many pressing questions, both in the City and country. The Napoleonic conquests had shaken Europe to its very center, and the first disaster to the man regarded as invincible produced a thrilling sensation. Mr. Barlow, author of some quite important pamphlets, was sent to France to observe affairs, which were in a rather critical state. The party clamoring for war with England made itself heard more loudly. The right of search, the interference of trade, the insolent and overbearing manner of England roused the whole country.

Through all the turmoil Mrs. Madison moved serenely, and if her heart quaked with forebodings, it was not allowed to disturb her efforts at making Washington a social center. Then her pretty widowed sister, Mrs. Washington, married Judge Todd, and so became permanently settled in the City. Every year saw a little improvement made in the Capitol and the President's mansion. Streets began to have a more finished appearance.

Jaqueline was not less a belle than she had been the previous winter. Arthur Jettson was prospering, and Jane was bright and gay in spite of three babies; so between the two homes and the outside world she was kept full of engagements.

She was rather surprised when Lieutenant Ralston made her a proposal of marriage. The friendly feeling had been so strong, and on her part so unlike love, that there could be but one answer. He did not seem deeply disappointed, but begged that they might remain friends.

Only a few days after she received a note from her mother. They had been up to the Pineries, for grandmother was quite poorly and went downstairs only to her dinner.

"She misses the stir and activity of being mistress of the house, and her son's ideas are different in many respects from hers. But there comes a time when the old must give way and step aside for the young. Marian is devoted to her. I do not know now what your grandmother would do without her. Did you hear that poor Mr. Greaves is dead at last? But it has been a living death for six months or more; indeed, he has never had his mind and memory clearly since the first stroke, and now for weeks he has been barely conscious. He must have had an iron constitution. I think your grandmother is very thankful that this happened before the marriage rather than afterward. Miss Greaves wants to close the house, dispose of the slaves by hire or leasing, and go to England to educate the children. Brandon is as bitterly opposed to war as ever his father could have been. Marian is sweet and kindly, but has fallen into an apathetic state. Dolly is prospering, and from all accounts very gay. She has written repeatedly to Marian. I wish the poor girl could make the visit. It is sad to see her youth fading away."

"Poor Marian! Oh, Patty, do you remember our first visit here? It seems ages ago, doesn't it? and so much has happened. What girls we were!"

"And Mr. Madison was inaugurated! You went to a levee. How I did envy you! Now I curtsey to Mrs. Madison every day or two, and gossip with Mrs. Cutts, and am asked to meet this one and that one. Well, we're the Virginian part of the Capital," laughing. "And how you schemed for Marian! Jaqueline, you don't mean to marry Lieutenant Ralston yourself, after all? Jane was so afraid you might attract him."

"Oh, no! He seems just like a brother." But she did not confess she had answered the momentous question. She gave a great throb of thankfulness. True, he insisted that Marian had never really loved him, and a man would be foolish enough to go mooning about such a woman.

It was June of that year, after a stormy session of Congress, that the word spread like wildfire through every State, first announced in the National Intelligencer, that war had been declared against Great Britain. And on June 21 the strongest naval force the country could muster, a squadron of four warships, was fitting out at Norfolk. Charleston was astir; New York, Boston, and Salem were busy transforming merchant vessels that had lain idly at the wharves into fighting ships. Young men hurried to Annapolis and placed themselves in training, for the war must be largely fought out on the seas.

The efforts of England to harass and break up the commerce between the United States and other countries, notably France, had exasperated the pride and sense of justice of the country. The war-cry was taken up: "Free trade and the rights of sailors. America must protect her own." And although times had been hard and trade poor, out of it had grown a knowledge of the young country's power and possibilities. Now the nation was compact and had a centralized government. There had been many improvements since old Revolutionary times, and the population had nearly doubled.

Not that the country was a unit on this subject. The Federalists were extremely bitter, and denounced the war as unnecessary and suicidal. England, out of one war, was ready with her ripened experience to sweep us from the seas. And what then?

On the frontier the campaign opened badly. At the disgraceful surrender of Hull at Detroit not only was the commander blamed for treachery and cowardice, but the Cabinet and the President held up to execration.

As an offset, naval victories suddenly roused the waning enthusiasm: the Wasp and the Frolic, the Hornet and the Peacock, and the Constitution's splendid escape from the Guerrière, that was to drive the "insolent rag of bunting" from the seas, the chase from New York to Boston, the brief fight of an hour and a half, when the bunting was left to wave over the wreck, and Captain Dacres and the part of his crew not in a watery grave made prisoners. No wonder Boston had a day of rejoicing!

This was followed by other victories. The country began to draw a free breath, and the conquest on the lakes crowned it with new courage and rejoicing.

But in the Capital a fierce battle was raging. Whether Madison should again be the candidate and succeed himself was a hotly disputed question. But if the President came in for so much animadversion, it was admitted that Mrs. Madison bore herself with steady courage and cheerfulness. There was no distinction made between parties at her receptions. No one was treated with coolness because he had reviled the administration. Perhaps it was the charming courtesy that upheld Mr. Madison through the stress of the times.

Then Jaqueline and Dr. Collaston were summoned suddenly to Cedar Grove. Charles had been brought home in a rather alarming condition. There had been spells of fainting and headaches that were thought to come from overstudy, and at last Uncle Conway was seriously alarmed, and sent the boy home in the care of a trusty slave and an old mammy. He was very much exhausted by the journey, and Dr. Collaston saw at once that it was something more serious than overwork.

"But I'll be sure to get well, won't I?" he asked wistfully. "There is so much going on, and so much to do and to learn in this big world. How grand it is! And if we should beat England again, wouldn't it be magnificent? Do you feel sure that we will?"

"Never mind the war. Tell me when the headaches began. And the pain in your back. You used to be such a bright, healthy little lad. Did you take enough exercise?"

There was a faint flush creeping over the pale face, and the eyes looked out on the distance as if taxing his memory, but instead he was trying to elude a curious consciousness.

"The headaches? Oh, I used to have them sometimes at home. They're girlish things, and it doesn't seem as if boys ought to fret over them," with a touch of disdain.

"And you haven't been trying your strength leaping over five-barred gates or jumping ditches, or perhaps riding too much?"

"I had my pony, you know, but I didn't ride very much. And latterly it seemed to take away my strength. Aunt Catharine was sure it hurt me, and then I didn't ride at all. So I left it for the children and Varina. Aunt Catharine was wonderfully kind, but she isn't quite like mamma, and father is so good and strong. I'm going to get well now. I think I was homesick too, and that's babyish for a great boy. How Louis would laugh at me!"

But no one laughed. Everybody spoke hopefully, to be sure, and treated the matter lightly. Annis read to him, but he sometimes stopped her and said: "Tell me about your visit to Patty. Doesn't it seem funny to have Patty among the big people and going to the White House to dinner? Why do you suppose Jacky didn't marry Mr. Carrington? I like him so much."

Then it was the old Froissart, with the queer pictures, or the war news. The young people around came in, the boys ruddy, laughing, and sunburned. The little darkies did their funniest tricks and sang songs for young mas'r; but though he seemed a little stronger, he did not get well. It had not been altogether the hard study.

"You are quite sure you can't remember any fall down there at Williamsburg?" the doctor queried.

"Oh, I might have had little tumbles; boys often do," he said with an air of indifference. "But nothing to hurt."

He caught a look on the face of Annis, who was standing by the window idly drumming with her fingers on the sill, and frowned.

"What was that for?" The doctor intercepted the glance, and looked from one to the other.

"Please don't drum, Annis," he said gently. "Did I frown?" to the doctor.

Dr. Collaston studied him sharply.

"If you young people have any secret that bears on the case, you'd better reveal it. Working in the dark isn't always advisable. Annis, why do you change color?"

Annis flushed deeply now, and her eyelids quivered as if tears were not far away.

"Let Annis alone," said the boy in as gruff a tone as so gentle a voice could assume. "I suppose we did both think of one thing when you so insisted upon a fall. It was a long while ago, before I went to school. We were down by the creek. I was on Sam, who had been drinking and wading in the stream. He turned to step out, and a stone rolled and he stumbled. I went over his head, as I didn't have the rein in my hand. It knocked the breath out of me for a moment. But I had been tumbled off before, when I was learning to ride, and that really didn't – wasn't of much account, only Annis was so frightened. Now shall I go further back and tell you of all the downfalls I have had? I wasn't very daring – Annis, wasn't I something of a babyish boy?"

"No, you were not." Annis smiled a little then.

"How did he fall?"

Annis could not recall that.

"After a little I walked home. No, I wasn't much hurt. I had a lame thumb, I remember; but afterward there used to come what Phillis calls a 'misery' in my back. The headaches did not come until in the winter."

The doctor nodded.

"But I'm bound to get well," added the boy. "I don't want to die. I should have to be dead such a long, long while."

The doctor laughed. "No, we're not going to have you die. That is the least of the trouble. But you may be an invalid quite a while."

"I shouldn't even mind that, if I could study some. I hate to fall behind. And, you see, father is so proud of Louis that I couldn't bear people saying about me 'Poor Charles!' in a pitying way."

"We won't even have them saying that," was the confident answer, as he went out to add a note to the memoranda he had made of the case.

Charles held out his hand to Annis, who came over and gave it a little convulsive clasp.

"Girls are queer," he said in a soft, slow tone that had no reproach in it. "And Dr. Collaston turned you inside out. I do suppose doctors know pretty generally what is going on inside of your body, and sometimes they guess what is in your brain, or your mind, or whatever thinks. I was so afraid he'd get it all out of you!"

"Oh, do you think it was that?" Annis' eyes overflowed, and he could feel the quiver of her fingers.

"There – don't cry. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't even Varina's fault. Sam would have turned and gone out, anyhow. And you can't think how nice Varina is growing – pretty, too. I am sure it vexed her a good deal to think she was not as pretty as the older girls, or even you. You're so fair and sweet, with your clouds of light hair and your skin that looks like transparent pearl. You know she was very sorry."

"Oh, we both thought you were dead!" Annis tried hard not to sob.

"Boys take a good deal of killing. You see, I wasn't anywhere near dead. But I did give my back a hard wrench, and I felt it for a week or two, then it all went away; and it was somewhere about the holidays – we were getting greens for the church, and I fainted dead away. After that the ache came back. It's dull and aggravating, not a sharp pain that makes you feel as if you could get up and fight, but sometimes you are wild to run away, to the very ends of the earth! Then it would creep up to my head like some stealthy thing you couldn't put your finger on. Aunt Catharine was good, but she fussed so much, and she's always saying, 'Now, don't you think you ought to do this, or give up doing that? I'm sure it hurts you.' And wanting to find out the cause of everything and settle it on some particular point. It's queer that Rene should get along so well; you know she has a fractious temper! But the little girls just adore her, and at home she was teased a good deal."

He leaned back on the pillow, and his face was very white.

"Oh, you are so tired!" cried Annis.

"Yes. I have just a little bit to say, then you may read to me. I don't want anything said about Varina. She would be almost killed if she thought she was to blame for it. And she wasn't, you know. That little splash in Sam's face wasn't anything. He enjoyed having a bucket of water thrown over him. He's almost a water dog," laughing.

Annis tried to be convinced. If Varina had not persisted when Charles asked her to stop! But, then, Sam had stepped on a rolling stone.

"That's just a little bit between ourselves, not to be talked about, for it can't do any good, and would make Rene so very unhappy, now when she's growing sweeter. I've thought I ought to tell the doctor, but I didn't want to believe the fall had anything to do with it. Whatever happens, you will always love me, Annis?"

"Yes," bending over to kiss the white forehead, her heart full of sympathy and dread for an unknown future.

"And Jack's so lovely! Only I'm awful sorry she didn't marry Mr. Carrington. Patty and her husband are so happy, so are mother and father. There, I am tired. Get a book and read. That about Uncle Toby, who had such a big, sweet, foolish heart."

The children had a great way of picking out parts they liked and skipping the rest.

Then Dr. Collaston had to go up to Washington for a week or two, and sent for Jaqueline also. For Patty had a little baby girl, and they all laughed merrily about being uncles and aunts. What was happening to the country was a minor consideration.

When the doctor came down again he had a well-digested plan.

"If it wasn't for running the risk on the ocean I should say take the boy over to London at once and have the best medical skill there. But there are some excellent physicians in Philadelphia and New York. Old Dr. Rush does little in practicing now, but he is still ready and generous with advice. You know, I am young in the profession, and as yet we cannot boast much medical talent in our young city. Let Mrs. Mason stay with him three months or so, and have the best treatment. I think it quite a serious matter."

Mr. Mason was aghast at first.

"He is so young now, and the injury may not be as bad as I anticipated; but it will need excellent skill to take him through without leaving permanent marks and much suffering. So it had better be attended to at once."

Jaqueline was alarmed at the seriousness of the case. If she could go —

"No; it must be some person of experience, and one whom Charles loves and trusts and would obey. He will make a good patient, for he is anxious to get well; and though he does not whisper such a thing, he has an awful fear of deformity – "

"Oh, you do not think – " in a tremulous tone.

"Hush! I have mentioned it to no one but your parents. It is not to be discussed. It is a spinal trouble, and that covers the ground. And he must have immediate care. You and Annis will come with us, for it would be too lonely to have you here on the plantation, even if your father is back and forth."

Mrs. Mason discussed the plans with Jaqueline at once, and the girl was full of the warmest sympathy.

"If we could take Annis! but the doctor thinks it would be bad for the child, and an added care."

"Oh, mamma, you may trust her with me! I am not as gay and volatile as I was a year ago, nor so frivolous."

"She ought to go to school! Perhaps in the fall – "

"Mamma, that suggests something. A Madame Badeau, a very charming French refugee, has started a school for children and young ladies just a short distance from the doctor's. She is trying to get scholars enough to insure her support. And she teaches the pianoforte. It is quite coming into vogue since Mrs. Madison makes so much of the grand one at the White House, where ladies are often asked to play. Annis is such a little home girl that she would be very unhappy away. We all love her so dearly. And I will look after her clothes, and the doctor after her health, and Patty and the baby will be so much entertainment. Patty is making a very charming woman, and much admired," said the elder sister heartily.

"That is an admirable plan, and you are kind to take so much interest in the child. It relieves me of considerable anxiety, and she has run wild long enough, though she has picked up an odd conglomeration of knowledge from Charles. I know your father will be glad and thankful."

"To let you go quite away – to stay!" ejaculated Annis, when she heard of the plan. "Mamma, I have given up part of you a good many times, but I can't give up all," and the soft lips quivered. "Why can I not go? I will be very good, and not make any trouble. And I could help you with Charles, and read to him. He is so fond of me."

"It would not be possible to take you, dear," she replied tenderly. "You would add to my care. The doctor thinks this plan the best, the only one."

Annis clung to her mother. "Philadelphia is ever so much farther than Baltimore!" she cried despairingly. "And – you are my mother!"

"But, if Charles should be ill a long while! And think how lonesome he would be with just a nurse! You can write quite well, and you can send me letters about everything. Jaqueline knows of a delightful school you can go to. It is time you were learning something, as well as Varina. There, dear, don't make it harder for me."

Annis was crying on her mother's shoulder. She had thought a three- or four-days' separation very hard – how would she stand weeks and months? To be sure, they all loved her mother, and Charles was especially fond of her; but, after all, she was her mother.

Then Mr. Mason came in, but for once she would not sit on his knee nor listen to his bright predictions.

At first Charles refused utterly to go without Annis. He was sure she couldn't be in the way. He loved mamma very much, but he had found it lonely at school without Annis to tell things over to. She was different from the other girls – and, then, they were grown women, except Varina; and he could not stand it without her.

"I want to get well and grow up to manhood, and then none of you shall take her away from me!" he cried.

Mrs. Mason gave a soft sigh, hoping he would have no greater heartache in the days to come.

Dr. Collaston finally persuaded him that this would be the best arrangement, as quiet and a darkened room might be necessary. "And it would be like keeping her a prisoner," he said. "Her mother could not take her out, and she could not go about a strange city alone, so it would be rather selfish to ask so much of her."

"And I don't mean to be selfish. If you all think so, it must be right; but I am sorry, all the same."

"You may get home by Christmas," the doctor said hopefully.