Andrew the Glad | Page 4

the Almighty puts in the heart of a
man to draw the unreasoning heart of a woman; sometimes to bruise
and crush it, seldom to kill it outright. Mary Caroline only followed her
call," answered the major, responding to her random lead patiently.
"I know, Major; yes, I know," answered his wife as she laid her hand
on the arm of his chair. "Mary Caroline struggled against it but it was
stronger than she was. It wasn't the loving and marrying a man who had
been on the other side--so many girls did marry Union officers as soon
as they could come back down to get them--but the kind of enemy he
was!"
"Yes," said the major thoughtfully, "it would take a wider garment of
love to cover a man with a carpetbag in his hand than a soldier in a
Yankee uniform. A conqueror who looked around as he was fighting
and then came back to trade on the necessities of the conquered cuts but
a sorry figure, Matilda, but a sorry figure!"
"And Mary Caroline felt it too, Major--but she couldn't help it," said
Mrs. Buchanan with a catch in her voice. "The night before she ran
away to marry him she spent with me, for you were away across the
river, and all night we talked. She told me--not that she was going--but
how she cared. She said it bitterly over and over, 'Peters Brown, the
carpetbagger--and I love him!' I tried to comfort her as best I could but
it was useless. He was a thief to steal her--just a child!" There was a
bitterness and contempt in Mrs. Matilda's usually tender voice. She sat
up very straight and there was a sparkle in her bright eyes.
"And the girl," continued the major thoughtfully, "was born as her
mother died. He'd never let the mother come back and he never brought
the child. Now he's dead. I wonder--I wonder. We've got a claim on
that girl, Matilda. We--"

"And, dear, that is just what I came back in such a hurry to tell you
about--I felt it so--I haven't been able to say it right away. I began by
talking about Mary Caroline and--I--I--"
"Why, Matilda!" said the major in vague alarm at the tremble in his
wife's voice. He laid his hand over hers on the arm of his chair with a
warm clasp.
"It's just this, Major. You know how happy I have been, we all have
been, over the wonderful statue that has been given in memory of the
women of the Confederacy who stayed at home and fed the children
and slaves while the men fought. As you advised them, they have
decided to put it in the park just to the left of the Temple of Arts, on the
very spot where General Darrah had his last gun fired and spiked just
before he fell and just as the surrender came. It's strange, isn't it, that
nobody knows who's giving it? Perhaps it was because you and David
and I were talking last night about what he should say about General
Darrah when he made the presentation of the sketches of the statue out
at the opening of the art exhibition in the Temple of Arts to-night, that
made me dream about Mary Caroline all night. It is all so strange."
Again Mrs. Buchanan paused with a half sob in her voice.
"Why, what is it, Matilda?" the major asked as he turned and looked at
her anxiously.
"It's a wonderful thing that has happened, Major. Something, I don't
know what, just made me go out to the Temple this morning to see the
sketches of the statue which came yesterday. I felt I couldn't wait until
to-night to see them. Oh, they are so lovely! Just a tall fearless woman
with a baby on her breast and a slave woman clinging to her skirts with
her own child in her arms!
"As I stood before the case and looked at them the tragedy of all the
long fight came back to me. I caught my breath and turned away--and
there stood a girl! I knew her instantly, for I was looking straight into
Mary Caroline's own purple eyes. Then I just opened my arms and held
her close, calling Mary Caroline's name over and over. There was no
one else in the great room and it was quiet and solemn and still. Then

she put her hand against my face and looked at me and said in the
loveliest tenderest voice:
"'It's my mother's Matilda, isn't it? I have the old daguerreotype!' And I
smiled back and we kissed each other and cried--and then cried some
more."
"I haven't a doubt of those tears," answered the major in a suspiciously
gruff voice.