University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.

It was a cool, clear, bracing December Sabbath. One of those rare winter days in Charleston, neither warm nor wet. As a rule the winter days there are either: if clear, unpleasantly warm, or if cloudy, most disagreeably cold and wet. But on this day the weather was at its best. A cool north wind was blowing and the sun was shining brightly.

As usual with the Vanross family when the weather was favorable, all set out at the appointed hour for church. There was some special interest in the service to-day, growing out of the fact that the church building which had been occupied under military authority by missionaries

who had come down from the North in the wake of the Union Army, was now turned over to the original congregation; and Dr. Caulfield, the former pastor, would preach his first sermon in it since the surrender. As this was the case generally with the churches of the city, there was a rallying of the local congregations.

Most of the churches were well filled, and the services were quite earnest generally, and in some instances, touchingly pathetic. Empty seats, veiled widows, weeping mothers, and sisters, and sweethearts, with thoughtful and pensive looks, told the sad story of the war. Husbands, brothers, and lovers had gone forth in support of a cause by them held dear, but had not returned. These weeping wives and mothers — these thoughtful and pensive sweethearts and sisters who could not weep — had lost their cause, and lost their loved ones with it.

The ministers, who knew the people, and who had passed through the entire experience of the war, both at home and in camp, preached to them the best consolation they could. They held up to them the rich promises of the Divine word, and bade them hope in God, and in the world of deathless love and joy already won by their husbands, fathers and sons, who had gone on before them. They bade them to rejoice in peace, even though it came as the peace of defeat, and to look for the land wherein wars never arise, and over which the great Prince of Peace sways his gentle scepter.

Dr. Caulfield preached earnestly and eloquently that clear Sabbath morning. The sun was bright, the atmosphere invigorating and the church well ventilated. He preached, as I say, in an earnest, enlivening manner, fully justifying what

Hortense had said of him to Lieutenant Howell but a few weeks before. Neither his subject nor his manner was in any respect dull, and audible responses came from many parts of the crowded building; while tears were drawn from nearly every eye.

In all that congregation, there was no listener more sympathetic, no worshipper more devout, than Hortense. Doubtless there was some hero worship in her devotion, but she was altogether unconscious of it. She admired and loved Dr.. Caulfield, as who did not? And a share of her worship was received by the instrument which should have gone past him to fall at the shrine of the Infinite One. But none are perfect, and Hortense worshipped with sincerity, and listened with childlike docility, and to her the service was truly exhilarating.

Lavinia was more spiritual but less constant than her sister; capable of soaring to greater heights, but unable to sustain, for any lengthy period, either intense emotion or exalted vision; hence, she was not so wrapt as to overlook several material accessories of the service. She saw and felt the heavenly, it is true, for she was by no means irreverent; but she saw also, to a very reasonable extent, the men and women who made up the congregation.

Seated in the pulpit with Dr. Caulfield was a young minister with yellow, curling hair, florid face and of robust build, smoothly shaven and neatly dressed. He was not specially clerical-looking. His appearance was rather boyish, and if a good-sized frame had been put about him as he sat there, he might have suggested a picture to advertise the fountain of youth. Evidently he was not a dyspeptic. His

clear lips, clean teeth, smooth skin, bright eyes, strong step and firm, positive movements, all told of a mighty digestion, of a stomach like the "mills of the gods." He was a joy and inspiration to look T. He was full of life to overflowing.

He was a stranger to the entire congregation, and when Dr. Caulfield invited him to take part in the services all eyes were fixed upon him. His voice was in full harmony with his general appearance — full, round, sympathetic, and musical; and his manner free from belittling affectation.

The service closed, and after greeting the pastor, the Vanross ladies immediately started for their home. On the way the sisters walked side by side, while Mrs. Vanross proudly leaned on the arm of her eldest son. Of course the sermon and the service were remarked upon by all; but we must pardon them if their thoughts quickly turned to their many friends who had returned from their weary misfortunes, to once more worship in their dear old church. While it had been an occasion of worship it had been also, in a quiet and restricted sense, a real social reunion of friends and families long separated. The services, therefore, taking in this wide view, furnished much food for conversation.

But the strange young minister was not overlooked nor forgotten. His name had been announced in the church, and he had been presented to a few of the leading male members, and also to a few matronly dames; but a devout respect for the occasion and the place, as well as the general haste, prevented any larger number of personal introductions. Consequently as the Vanross sisters walked home from the church that beautiful Sabbath morning they were ignorant even of the stranger's

name, for they had not been fortunate enough to hear it distinctly as it was announced. Lavinia was the first to speak of him to her sister on the way home.

"Sister," said she, "what was that young minister's name that was in the pulpit this morning?"

"I don't know, I could not hear what Dr. Caulfield called him," replied Hortense. Calling to her brother, who was a few steps ahead, she said, in a low voice: "William, oh, William, what did Dr. Caulfield say that young minister's name was? Sister Veeny, here, is dying to know."

"'Tis no such thing," replied Lavinia, "Tonsy wants to know just as badly as I do."

"Ah!" said William tantalizingly, "the young preacher seems to be all of the text or the sermon that you remember. Delightful subject, I know. A good full sermon for

all the young ladies; and you each seem to have received your portion."

"Oh, William, tell us," said both at once, "we know you know, because we saw you shake hands with him."

"Don't you wish you had had that privilege?" replied William, still teasing them , and then he ended the conversation by saying: "Oh, sisters, you will have to wait until we get home and have had dinner."

Dr. Caulfield was a fair Southerner, but was not so bitter toward the Unionists and Northerners as were some of his clerical bretheren; and hence, when the young stranger approached him presenting first-class testimonials, and manifesting a spirit so guileless and brimming with love and hope, and wearing a manner so entirely free from conceit, his respect and confidence were soon won. And, some time before the Sabbath morning in which we

have seen the two sitting side by side in the pulpit, his whole nature had been somewhat warmed and cheered by the intercourse already had with his new acquaintance. Between them was already that attraction which springs up so readily between the phlegmatic and the sanguine, between ripened age and budding youth; between the languid luxuriant South, and the energetic North; and although so unlike in appearance and manners, the two seemed to be born to be friends.

The young minister was the Rev. Thomas Gordon. He had been a country boy in New York, and had passed through academy, college, and seminary, without becoming either dyspeptic, effeminate or conceited; and was now prepared to do the work of pastor and teacher among the Freedmen in the South. Here, by his own choice, he fancied he was to do his

Master's work, and acquire that experience and insight into human nature which would serve him so well in the future years in other fields.

Is it strange that one filled with such purposes and such spirit should form the acquaintance and friendship of Dr. Caulfield, and should be found worshiping in this "rebel" church on this bright Sabbath morning? Mr. Gordon was not born to hate. Rich and poor, Northerners and Southerners, black and white, were all very much alike to him. His heart was an overflowing fountain that only sent out sweet waters, and sent them out with such volume and force as to bear down all petty prejudices with their current. His religion was one of love; and so it was with his usual warmth and joy that he took part in the services of this Southern church; and the pearls of earnest sympathy

which his manner and voice scattered were not trampled underfoot by the congregation.

Toward the close of the week following, Dr. Caulfield, knowing of the liberal sentiments, or at least tolerance, of the Vanross family, decided to invite the young minister to call upon them in company with himself. It is needless to say that the family, especially the female members, stood very high in the confidence and respect of the church generally; and that they were favorites of the pastor, so far as his position allowed him to have any favorites. He had not failed to speak of them to Mr. Gordon with just enough of twinkle in his eye to show that the "old Adam" in him was not entirely dead. Like the serpent that has done his duty so long, it had been effectually "scotched" but it still breathed; and Dr. Caulfield felt a little of the

gallantry that once possessed his soul as he walked toward the Vanross residence accompanied by his young friend. He was dignified almost to courtliness, generally; but on this occasion there seemed to be a bending on his part toward the manners of his friend. Indeed there was a tendency, unconscious, no doubt, on the part of each gentlemen to incline toward each other in spirit and manner. Dr. Caulfield became less stiff and reserved. Mr. Gordon rather more restrained and grave. Thus impressed, the one by the other, the two clergymen entered the gate, walked up the steps and stood upon the piazza of the Vanross residence. They were admitted by a servant and given seats in the parlor, before any family were aware of their presence.

Rosa, the maid, came into the sitting room where Mrs. Vanross and her daughters

were seated, and announced that Dr. Caulfield and a young gentleman were in the parlor, and then sidling up to Lavinia, with whom she was especially familiar, she said slyly, "Deed, Miss Veeny, him de pootiest young gentleman I eber see."

Hortense said, with some excitement, "It is that young minister."

Mrs. Vanross arose at once, and going into the parlor greeted her pastor with cordiality, and turning at once to the stranger awaited a formal introduction.

"Rev. Thomas Gordon, Mrs. Vanross; I take the liberty of presenting him to you," said Dr. Caulfield with his usual grace.

"Mr. Gordon," replied Mrs. Vanross, extending her hand, "I am glad to see you. Be seated, gentlemen. The girls will be in in a moment."

All were soon seated and engaged in conversation, which consisted chiefly of

anxious inquiries about neighbors and friends. and in expressions of sympathy concerning those whose sufferings were mentioned. Mr. Gordon was touched by the little disclosures made, and his sympathetic attention soon induced them to take him into their confidence, and his presence ceased to be any embarrassment.

In a few moments the two daughters entered the room together. How like, and yet how different they were in appearance and manner, as viewed together by the young stranger. Hortense approached first and received Mr. Gordon graciously and quite cordially. Lavinia blushed, and for once was somewhat embarrassed, as she extended her faultless hand to the stranger.

Mr. Gordon's manner so far had been frank and apparently somewhat perfunctory. He was certainly not indifferent to

the refinement and beauty of the Vanross ladies, but as yet he had exhibited no signs of special interest. He took the hand of Mrs. Vanross and of Hortense, bowing his acknowledgments of their favors and expressing himself with elegance and ease, but that was all. But as he stood before Lavinia and took her hand in his, their eyes met, and his whole manner underwent a change. For a moment his eyes lingered upon the dark beauty that stood before him, and he seemed almost transfixed by the bright scintillations that shot forth from her wondrous eyes like illumined rays from the matchless Koh-i-noor. Their hands had clasped, their eyes had met, and Thomas Gordon and Lavinia Vanross were in love. She might have said then, what she long afterward said in the ardor of one of her delicious love epistles, after the engagement had been made; "An unseen hand prepared strong links to bind our hearts." Or long afterward when, transformed almost into another being, she said, "I received my inspiration when our eyes first met in Charleston; you may locate and date it when you choose." He might have said that very evening, what he afterward declared amid many elegant sentences: "Since I met you on that memorable afternoon in your lovely home I have been simply yours to command."

The love between two such natures soon leaped to maturity. Thomas Gordon was generous and spontaneous; and although well educated and comparatively well experienced for his age, he had not become distrustful of either man or woman in a general way. He was not devoid of proper caution, and was not a man to be easily duped; but he was not afraid to trust his own love, his own judgement, and the

concurrent testimony surrounding the beautiful Lavinia. He loved her at sight and he knew it. He came, he saw, and he had been, of not conquered, certainly captivated; and he did not try to conceal the fact either from himself or from others. Lavinia, for the first time in her life, felt her powers succumb; and although granted the dominion she felt herself rather than the subject. The fact of drawing so great and noble a soul to herself seemed to throw a feeling of awe over her, and she grew less frivolous and more sedate and thoughtful every day. The love between them grew apace; and before the coming spring Lavinia wore on her finger a plain gold ring which had been placed there by another hand.

Mr. Gordon entered upon his work in Savannah with all the zeal and earnestness of his robust and hearty nature; while Lavinia began preparations for the

marriage which had been set for the coming autumn. How bright were the visions that rose up before her as she contemplated union with the generous, noble being who had already won her heart! She became less gay in manner, but a deep, sweet happiness filled her whole soul and diffused itself about her in such a manner as to affect the entire household. Mother, sister, and brother were quite happy in the good fortune of the pet of the family; although all sorrowed at the thought of the disruption of their little domestic kingdom. Already they saw it invaded and partitioned off among other powers. With Hortense as the wife of Lieutenant Howell, and Lavinia married to Mr. Gordon, the family would be practically be broken up. The nest might remain, but the birds of song would have carried their music to other bowers.