The Earth Trembled | Page 2

to the political leaders of the South were too
slight to produce any share in the alienation and misunderstandings
which had been growing between the two great sections of his country,
and he certainly had not the slightest sympathy with those who had
fomented the ill-will for personal ends. Finally, however, he had found
himself face to face with the momentous certainty of a separation of his
State from the Union. For a time he was bewildered and disturbed
beyond measure; for he was not a prompt man of affairs, living keenly
in the present, but one who had been suddenly and rudely summoned
from the academic groves of the old philosophers to meet the burning
imperative questions of the day--questions put with the passionate
earnestness of a people excited beyond measure.
It was this very element of popular feeling which finally turned the
scale in his decision. Apparently the entire Southern people were
unanimous in their determination "to be free" and to separate
themselves from their old political relations. His pastor with all other
friends of his own rank confirmed this impression, and, as it was
known that he wavered, the best and strongest men of his acquaintance
argued the question with him. His daughter was early carried away by
the enthusiasm of her young companions, nevertheless she watched the
conflict in her father's mind with the deepest interest. She often saw
him walk the floor with unwonted tears in his eyes and almost agony
on his brow; and when at last, he decided in accordance with the

prevailing sentiment of his State, the Act of Secession and all that it
involved became sacred in her thoughts.
She trembled and shrank when the phase of negotiation passed away,
and war was seen to be the one alternative to submission. She never
doubted or hesitated, however; neither did her father after his mind was
once made up. Every day the torrent of bitter feeling deepened and
broadened between them and the North, of which, practically, they
knew very little. Even such knowledge as they possessed had come
through distorted mediums, and now everything was colored by the
blackest prejudice. They were led to believe and made to feel that not
only their possessions but their life and honor were at stake. In early
years Mr. Burgoyne had served with distinction in the war with Mexico,
and he therefore promptly received a commission.
The effect of her father's decision and action had been deepened a
hundred-fold by an event which occurred soon afterward. Among the
thousands who thronged to Charleston when Fort Sumter was attacked,
was the son of a wealthy planter residing in the interior of the State.
This young soldier's enthusiasm and devotion were much bruited in the
city, because, waiving wealth and rank, he had served as a private. His
fearlessness at Fort Moultrie enhanced his reputation, and when the
small garrison of heroes, commanded by Major Anderson, succumbed,
Sidney Wallingford found that he had been voted a hero himself,
especially by his fair compatriots with whom he had formerly danced
when visiting the town.
The young fellow's head was not easily turned, however, for when, at
an evening gathering, a group was lauding the great achievement he
said disdainfully, "What! thousands against seventy? Despise the
Yankees as we may, the odds were too great. The only thing we can
plume ourselves upon is that we would have fought just the same had
the seventy been seven thousand. I think the fellows did splendidly, if
they were Yankees, yet what else could we expect since their
commander was a Southern man? Oh no! we must wait till the
conditions are more even before we can exult over our victories. I
reckon we'll have them all the same though."

Murmurs of approbation followed these remarks, but he saw only the
eloquent eyes of Mary Burgoyne, and, offering her his arm, led her
away.
The spring night was as warm as a June evening at the North, and they
joined the groups that were strolling under the moonlight in the garden.
Sidney felt the young girl's hand tremble on his arm, and he drew it
closer to his side. She soon asked falteringly, "Mr. Wallingford, do you
think--will the conditions become more even, as you suggested? Can it
be that the North will be so carried away by this abolition fanaticism as
to send armies and ships in the vain effort to subjugate us?"
"Thank you, Miss Mary, for saying that it will be a 'vain effort.'"
"Of course it will be, with such men as my father and"--she suddenly
hesitated.
"And who else?" he gently asked, trying to look into her averted face.
"Oh--well," she stammered with a forced little laugh, "thousands of
brave fellows like you. You do not answer