University of Virginia Library

45. CHAPTER XLV.
NEW PLANS.

EXCEPT Abigail Anderson and one other person,
everybody in the little world of Clark township
approved mightily the justice and disinterestedness
of Andrew. He had righted himself and
Julia at a stroke, and people dearly love to have
justice dealt out when it is not at their own expense. Samuel,
who cherished in secret a great love for his daughter, was
more than pleased that affairs had turned out in this way. But
there was one beside Abigail who was not wholly satisfied.
August spent half the night in protesting in vain against
Andrew's transfer of the river-farm to him. But Andrew said
he had a right to give away his own if he chose. And there
was no turning him. For if August refused a share in it, he
would give it to Julia, and if she refused it, he would find
somebody who would accept it.

The next day after the settlement at Samuel Anderson's,
August came to claim his wife. Mrs. Abigail had now employed
a “help” in Cynthy Ann's place, and Julia could be
spared. August had refused all invitations to take up his
temporary residence with Julia's parents. The house had unpleasant

associations in his mind, and he wanted to relieve
Julia at once and forever from a despotism to which she
could not offer any effectual resistance. Mrs. Anderson had
eagerly loaded the wagon with feather-beds and other bridal
property, and sent it over to the castle, that Julia might appear
to leave with her blessing. She kissed Julia tenderly, and
hoped she'd have a happy life, and told her that if her husband
should ever lose his property or treat her badly—such
things may happen, you know—then she would always find
a home with her mother. Julia thanked her for the offer of
a refuge to which she never meant to flee under any circumstances.
And yet one never turns away from one's home
without regret, and Julia looked back with tears in her eyes at
the chattering swifts whose nests were in the parlor chimney,
and at the pee-wee chirping on the gate-post. The place had
entered into her life. It looked lonesome now, but within a
year afterward Norman suddenly married Betsey Malcolm.
Betsey's child had died soon after its birth, and Mrs. Anderson
set herself to manage both Norman and his wife, who took up
their abode with her. Nothing but a reign of terror could
have made either of them of any account, but Mrs. Anderson
furnished them this in any desirable quantity. They were
never of much worth, even under her management, but she kept
them in bounds, so that Norman ceased to get drunk more
than five or six times a year, and Betsey flirted but little and
at her peril.

Once the old house was out of sight, there were no shadows
on Julia's face as she looked forward toward the new
life. She walked in a still happiness by August as they went
down through Shady Hollow. August had intended to show

her a letter that he had from the mud-clerk, describing the
bringing of Humphreys back to Paducah and his execution
by a mob. But there was something so repelling in the gusto
with which the story was told, and the story was so awful
in itself, that he could not bear to interrupt the peaceful happiness
of this hour by saying anything about it.

August proposed to Julia that they should take a path
through the meadow of the river-farm—their own farm now—
and see the foundation of the little cottage Andrew had begun
for them. And so in happiness they walked on through
the meadow-path to the place on which their home was to
stand. But, alas! there was not a stick of timber left. Every
particle of the material had been removed. It seemed that
some great disappointment threatened them at the moment of
their happiness. They hurried on in silent foreboding to the
castle, but there the mystery was explained.

“I told you not to tempt me too far,” said Andrew.
“See! I have concluded to build an addition to the castle and
let you civilize me. We will live together and I will reform.
This lonely life is not healthy, and now that I have children,
why should I not let them live here with me?”

Julia looked happy. I have no authentic information in
regard to the exact words which she made use of to express
her joy, but from what is known of girls of her age in general,
it is safe to infer that she exclaimed, “Oh! I'm so glad!”

While Andrew stood there smiling, with Julia near him,
August having gone to the assistance of the carpenters in a
matter demanding a little more ingenuity than they possessed,
Jonas came up and drew the Philosopher aside. Julia could
not hear what was said, but she saw Andrew's brow contract.

“I'll shoot as sure as they come!” he said with passion.
“I won't have my niece or August insulted in my house by
a parcel of vagabonds.”

“O Uncle Andrew! is it a shiveree?” asked Julia.

“Yes.”

“Well, don't shoot. It'll be so funny to have a shiveree.”

“But it is an insult to you and to August and to me. This
is meant especially to be an expression of their feeling toward
August as a German, though really their envy of his good fortune
has much to do with it. It is a second edition of the
riot of last spring, in which Gottlieb came so near to being
killed. Now, I mean to do my country service by leaving one
or two less of them alive if they come here to-night.” For
Andrew was full of that destructive energy so characteristic of
the Western and Southern people.

“Oh! no, don't shoot. Can't you think of some other
way?” pleaded Julia.

“Well, yes, I could get the sheriff to come and bag a few
of them.”

“And that will make trouble for many years. Let me see.
Can't we do this?” And Julia rapidly unfolded to Andrew
and Jonas her plan of operations against the enemy.

“Number one!” said Jonas. “They'll fall into that air
amby-scade as sure as shootin'. That plan is military and
Christian and civilized and human and angelical and tancycrumptious.
It ort to meet the 'proval of the American Fish-hawk
with all his pinions and talents. I'll help to execute it,
and beat the rascals or lay my bones a-bleachin' on the desert
sands of Shady Holler.”

“Well,” said Andrew to Julia, “I knew, if I took you under

my roof, you'd make a Christian of me in spite of myself.
And I am a sort of savage, that's a fact.”

Jonas hurried home and sent Cynthy over to the castle, and
there was much work going on that afternoon. Andrew said
that the castle was being made ready for its first siege. As
night came on, Julia was in a perfect glee. Reddened by
standing over the stove, with sleeves above her elbows and her
black hair falling down upon her shoulders, she was such a
picture that August stopped and stood in the door a minute to
look at her as he came in to supper.

“Why, Jule, how glorious you look!” he said. “I've a
great mind to fall in love with you, mein Liebchen!”

“And I have fallen in love with you, Cæsar Augustus!”
And well she might, for surely, as he stood in the door with
his well-knit frame, his fine German forehead, his pure, refined
mouth, and his clear, honest, amiable blue eyes, he was a man
to fall in love with.