The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 7, 1901, Page 6

THE SUNDAY Y <L 1 f‘."a‘if\nb PYRIGHT 190k B) AATonAL PRESS Hetncy 844z w “THERE. WILL BE JUST A DOZEN OF US ALL TOLD. s Deborab. Even f diet friends clock h pel g to th: rur r varia- right or w littic the ry other ho shet »ot of the Lill crow: ed the dap- ed her own sre oihers present backs, and nelther occu- iled a n suppi nd offcred. All suri- often when the weather Deborah wore white gowns, trimmed with delicate ~hane- ught embroidery or fine, soft, real lace that had descended to her along with thz house, furniture and tamily jewelry. She e Hov THE EIGHT AT BLOODY ANGLE- Sergeant Fasnacht Captured and Held a Rebel Flag Even Against His Own Commander. The story snacht capty oody is one of exciting episo the Civi . took while the the army was r the w “The Me dy's Magaz 1 Hovey in Everybc commotion and aw himself the captor of t J The idea lashed upon him all in one confused mo- took shape in a defin But as he ran round the and sprang ahead 3 peared only one among grouy » were rushing straight an invincible earth wall which had promised destruction. Th doled out destruction to the lines of soldiers, one by one. Behind this was a ditch filled with water, and from the opposite side of the ditch rose the earthworks, with the men in dirty gray discharging their bayoneted muskets in rain and smoke—and the flag waving over all. The few men that were ahead were caurht fast in the first entanglement; but com he wall “fenses an the ered, strugsling, the mass of hed heavily against their line ¢ backs and pushed them through into the diteh, Fasnacht felt himself hurled for- i struck down the soldier di- front of him with the butt of and found himself standing carth mound. The flag was feet ay: He rushed at the color-bearer, a tall man, who was holding the gh: with outstretched arm he velled to him to surrender. A section of the fighting came between them. The man with the colors and the soldiers about him dropped inside the de- ran off toward some wood snacht could follow the smoke had hidden them. Intent upon s of the day. the sergeant avoided the bloody confusion here and set off alone toward the woods, reasoning as there was an open gap on the ht of the Union battle line the color- er would try to ape on that side. Although he could see nothing but the glistening trunks of trees. he felt sure the flag would not escape him, and he con- tinued for perhaps 13 yards at a stum- bling run, impatiently pushing aside briary shrubs, breathlessly going on. Then appeared in front of him through an arch of the trees the color-bearer carrying his flag. Five or six men, his color guard, were just behind him. Fasnacht threw his musket to his shoulder, pressing his in his muske on top of t a few Before F fog busiz and his finger against the trigger. The gun was not loaded. The other saw him. “Surrender!” panted Serzeant Fasnacht. The tall man said, “Don’t shoot. I sur- render.” The men with him made no mo- tion to fire. Doubtless their guns were not lozded. The tall man reached out the flag on its stick, which the sergeant, still keeping his formidable musket cocked, 16t fall at his feet. He told the men of the color guard to drop their arms, and they. did.so. “‘Get to the rear,” continued he, in a cool fashion; and as soon as the Confed- erates had passed around him and disap- peared he turned his attention to the cap- tured prize. It was old with service, in- scribed with the names of battles and the title of the regiment—Second Louisiana Tigers. The sergeant grinnéd in his good humor. He was delighted with himself at that moment. Standing on the staff he ripped the flag off and stuffed it away under his loose blouse. “You had better let me have that,” somebody said behind him. Turning with a jerk he saw the colonel of his regiment some distance away, and, farther off, some of his comrades coming through the woods. He stared at the mounted officer with a serious, gloomy face, and, as if the movement were mechanical, continued to crowd the flag into his bosom. “Keep it sald the colonel, with a laug ‘taught -to read fifty himself or herself of? — had a pure, bell-like voice, somewhat slender, but never sharp, and she read, as weil-instructed young ladies were cars ago, in a geu- teel, unaffected wa h just as muck and no more emphasis than they would use . in everyday conversation with their social equals. To be elocutionary was to be-theatrical and in poor taste. When the reading was done they talked it over, ex changing views and suggesting theorie: There was also reading on Sunday ever ings, of a more serious i, of course, and longer, more discursive logue that was always brotherly ly and frankly friendiy. Gossip have died a natural deuth in listen it. The grave they never forgot held mo: than the dust so precious to both. Youth ful dreams and hopes were there decentl interred, without the sure and cert hope of resurrection that gilded the mem- ory of the belowed twir sister. At the Christmas b~fore the Easter which is the date of my story. Miss Deb rah'had paid a long visit (for her) to th widow of her favorite brother in New York. Her pretty young nieces, Helen and Margarita Glen, had fallen in love with the dainty spinster whom they had scarce- Iy known until then, aid were 1 d by her sprightly chat of bears and thei might come to logue—dia- ster- vould w0 their common for- up a house bantered sxclaimed that she With all fushing r you nor the couniry I know the ways of fily at bugten- ") CEOL (S nOBODY TRIE 2 | ) A clamor of protest drowned her voice. Nothing would be more fascinating. BEas- ter in town would be as dull as ditchwater by comparison. The more the scheme was pulled over and shaken about and held up to the Nght, the more alluring it was to the blase fashionists. By the time Miss Deborah left the hospitable abode one and ianother had prayed to be included in the scheme, and all were positively pledged to alight at the Durham station on the even- ing of Saturday, April 6, and to remain at Glenwood until Tuesday morhing. On her way home Miss Deborah stopped overnight in Albany to renew her inti- meacy with some cousins once removed. Emma Van Wyck, the fun-loving daugh- ter of the house, caught eagerly at the novel idea of a gathering of the younger members of the Glen clan in the manorial homestead, and begged leave to bring with her the young man she was to marry in May. Thus stood the list as rehearsed by Miss Deborah to the rhythmical tapping of the Jeweled pencil-case. “There will be just a dozen of us, all told. Helen, Margarita and Alexander Glen, with Helen's ‘bright particular’ friend, Mr. Corwin (such a nice fellow!). Then there are Belle and Jjohn Sanders and Mary Willis and her most devoted admirer, Mr. Elmendorf. That makes up the New York contingent. From Albany there are Emma Van Wyck and Charley Depue, another engaged couple. Cupid will have his hands full while they, are all here. You and I are to chaperon the gay crew. nlay prooriety and be make-weights generally,” smiling with cordial sisterli- ness into the kind biue eyes bent upon her. A pink mist rolled genjly over Mr. Dane’s face until it lost itself in the fair hair that was growing thin on the top of his head. It might well happen that a well-preserved man of 50 would be more sensitive as to his age than an independ- ent spinster who had voluntarily entered the oid-maid ranks at Miss Deborah ran her joyous ex- citement blinding her to the possibility of Jarring her friend’s sensibilit *1 pride myself upon the ingenuity that has devised comfortable quarters for cne and all in this dear old rookery. You will come over o y rnoon, pre- pared to st S “Would that be demurred the other. “I had thought, instead, of offer- ing to take a couple of men home with me Saturday night. engaging to return them at breakfast time Sunday. To relieve the pressure upon the rookery and vour in- genuity, you know. One of my brotherly prercgatives is to be of service to you whenever I'can. It is a privilege I seldom pre u are mistaken there. She brought the jeweled top of the pencil case down upon the table with a rin “You Prime Min| y Secretary of everythin is kind and helpful. To nobo I confess a1t an event in my qu this house TRy > ill be. 1t is like renewing r nd that re- ally young peop! th the ball of ciety their feet, want to come to see me; are to tak o their charmed cir- cle and make me one of themselves. It is a beautiful thing to be young. A beauti- ful thirg,” she repeated, musingly, a tender smile upon lips that to-d had taken on their youthful curves. “Maturity, mellow and sweet—an early autumn, such as your fairer, and more enduring,” said Mr. Dane, in gentle sincerity. “Don’t try to reconcile me to tne Inev- itable, Cecil. I am well content with my age, my world and my life. And the thought of those blessed children leaving the gayeties of Easter in the city to en- liven the existence of a sober, led body like myself—coming, as Helen puts it, ‘a seven hours’ journey into the wild- erners’ to see me—is enough tomake onein love with human nature. Now''—putting out her hand to a bell rope—“I mean to have all the rooms lighted and take you fror. the bottom of the house to the top 1o see—and admire—my arrangements and to suggest alterations.” His one suggestion was not offered until the tour of inspection was conciuded, and they were back in the library, the until now neglected chess board between them “It does not accord with my ideas of right and fitness that you should tuck yourself away in a mere closet under the eaves when everybody else is so luxuri- ously lodged.” Tone and visage were expressive of such discontent that she laughed outright in setting out the white chessmen at her end of the board. “How odd it seems to see you cross. I shall be as snug and happy as a house wren. They used to call me ‘Jenny Wren’ when I was a girl. .But”’—flushing while she laughed in a shamefaced way that was very bewitching—*I shall not be con- tent, like priggish Jenny, to ‘wear my rus- set gown and never look too fine.” To take you into another secret I had a new white frock made ‘all on a-purpose’ in New York. A marvelous ‘confection’ of cre- pon and chiffon, and half-a-dozen other French ons that would be all Greek to vou. I shall walk in silk attire and look my very best. I cannot do the occasion too much honor.” On Friday afternoon Mr. Dane pleased himself by sending to Glenwold a sreat box of roses he had ordered from Alban and another that had been filled in Bos- ton with trailing arbutus. “You forget nothing that could bring happiness to your friends,” said the note he reccived in .acknowledgment of the gift. Do you recollect that Katey and 1 always wore arbutus on Easter Sunday, when there was a sprig to be had? “The weather bureau predicts foul weather for Easter. 1 refuse to believe it. Yet what will that matter when my house party is once safely within my doors? The sunshine within will defy the windy storm and tempest.” Saturday morning dawned under a veil of drifting rain that stiffened into slant- ing sleet 2y 9 o'clock. At 4 in the after- noon the shabby ferry-boat tossed chip upon waves that chopped and pitched and fcamed as in midocean. There were but three passengers besides the trim lit- tle gentleman who wore. a mackintosh d carried a dress suit case as he stepped Not a conveyance was in sight. in his dry and sober senses would g for a hack at the lonely land- wept by the swirling waters and slippery as glass. Mr. Dane settled his hat firmly down .to his ears, where the collar of his waterproof met it, and prudently forebore to raise his umbreila. The blast would have turned it inside out and jerked it out of his hand before it was fairly unfurled. He was encased in an icy shell when he paused for a long breath in the deep the colonial homestead. Every s aglow, every shutter was ears of light hurtled nes of sleet and broke Scarlet of the outer n tireatening, “A brutal 1 taking off and shaking his mackintosh. Icy scales tinkled from it upon the 1gged floor. As he rang the bell some- ing white glanced across the illumin- ielights of the door. Miss ownmg 1e doorway, a flood of perfume warmth flowing out ove® her. “Qh, Is it you?” she ejaculated. *Come in! Come in! 1 hardly dared hope you would risk crossing in this storm. Yet I istent. might have known I could depend upon you! I hope you have not taken cold. Are your feet wet? You would like to go to your room at once, wouldn’'t you?” They were standing under the hall chandeller. She wore the white *‘confec- tion,” and it became her rarely. Her hair, dark and abui$ant, with never a trace of silver it, was piled high upon the small head and fastened with a Jew= eled comb. A sh glow was in her cheeks med and flashed; she tz 2 matedly. Her gala attire and air of s ssed excitement had a strange contrast in the profound stillness of a house Mr. Dane had expect- ed to find reverberant with merry volces. He removed his overcoat, hung it on the hatrack and sat down to pull off his rubber gaiters in the deliberate, method- ical fashion of a celibate man of leisure. Miss Deborah walked to the sidelights of the door and peered out, a hand on each side of her face. “I thought you were the carriages,” she sald, looking around. . “I sent both of them to the station to meet the 5:10 train from New York.- A part of the New York contingent is coming in that. Before they arrive you must come into the dininz- room and see how lovely your flowers have made the table.” She_led the way, still talking fast, an occasional gasp that was foreign to her manner separating now sentences, now syllables. An oblong bed of moss In the center of the table embedded the arbutus. -A clus- ter of the same was at each plate. A knot of the pale. sweet firstlings of the spring nestled in the laces of Miss Deborah’s corsage. Roses, in harmonious shades of pink, were the letting of the oval central ornament. The Glen silver, cut glass and china glittered in rich profusion on buffet and table. While thanking Mr. Dane for praises of the fair array, Miss Deborah seemed hardly to have heard them. “The table was laid for twelve an hour ere @ to ago,” she went on, ng he there a pull. to the rose-setting, witl steady fingers. afterncon _mail brought two letters, both ‘special deliv jes.” Mary Willis' mother has taken vesterday and her d 1 her. Of ceurse, Mr. Elm: come without her. Belle Sanders’ writes that both Belle in are with the grip. It is a scourge in York just now. You'll think me weak a silly, but it nearly brought the tears to be obliged to take two leaves out of the table and alter the disposition of the rooms. Belle and May were to have my rooms It gives me no pleasure to move down into 1t from my cubby under the eaves.” I can quite understand it sald Mr. Dane, with real feeling. verything beautiful stiil. I am wicked enough to wish that the absentees may know what they are missing. But it would not be safe y toucly of grip is for one with so much a to be abroad to-night,” he added, tact- She glanced up gratefully. She had drawn comfort from accent and look, more than from what he sald. “Thank you,” she said, in her gen tone. *“Now, wouldn't you like to go stairs? Your valise has gome to ¥ room. The storm was too loud for him to hear the returning carriages. By straining his ears he fancied that he caught, le dressing, tae sound of voices on the stairs and in the corridors. Knowing more of the exceeding deceitfulness of human na- ture than the sweet-hearted spinster could ever learn, he was skeptical as to the validity of the ‘“regrests” she had ac- cepted in all ~ood faith. He was giad to Wren would have her of the defection of the E quartet. A single glorious ross was in an a tique vase on his dressing-table. The o of others in the lower rooms wandered in the halls and up the staircase down which he ran as lightly as he had moved twenty- five years ago. The house. was very still. Later arrivals were doubtless busy with their tollets. The door of the dining-room was closed, and servants were bustung and talking on the other side of it, making ready for the banquet prepared for twelves to which eight would sit down. heavy. portiere was drawn across the r of the drawing-room. Mr. Dane pulled it aside. Miss Deborah sat in a low chair atrone corner of the hearth, her face buried in her hands. The slight rat- tle of a ring upon the pole supporting the portiere brought her to her feet. She turned aside abr ly, but not until he had seen that she was crying. He mada a hurried step toward her. “Deborah! What is it?” For a second she kept her back toward him; her handkerchief brushed hastily at her eyes. Then she whecled about and laughed—a forced, brohen feint of merri- ment that cut at his ieart-strings. “Nothing worth talking about; that is. nothing T might not nave expected. Read those. She flirted a counle of telegrams to his feet. He picked them up, gravely courte ous, and opened one. “Afrald to set out lest we should be storm-bound en route. Awfully sorry. “MARGARITA SANDERS.” The other was signed “Emma Van Wyck “Bad sore throat. Impossible to travel in storm. Mr. Depue scnds regrets with mine. < Mr. Dane stooned down and thrust the telegrams into the burning cinders. Ths indignant gesture, che moved look with which he turned to her and held out both hands, overcame the poor pretense of stolcism which Miss Deborah had kept be. tween him and her wounded spirit. She dropped her face upon their joined hands “And I belleved they meant what they sald,” she sobbed. ‘O Cecil, is nobody tru Two more leaves had been taken from the table when the house party sat down to an 8 o'clock dinner. The mossy bank, even when shorn of the rose border, al- most encroached upon the plates of the four revelers. The trained servants moved with nofseless alacrity about the board, a solemn gladress in their mien they were too well-bred to express other- wise. At half-past 6 the Glenwold carriage kad driven to the rectory, less than half a mile from the Manor House, and Mr. Dane leaped lightly out. At 7 the car- riage set down at Miss Deborah’s door the Rev. Mr. Graham, his wife and Ceei} Dane. The servants and Mrs. Graham were the witnesses of the ‘ceremony In the rose-scented drawing room. The rector and his wife remained to the belated din- ner. Not a Hsp of telegrams and special delivery letters shadowed the gentle hilar- ity of the feast Mrs. Dane had expected several young Telaiives to be with her this Easter,” the bridegroom, observed. lightly, during the meal. ;i’rnm\-rn ere 'l’e ained ‘at home by rip and other casualties. We wj & {helr better health.” bl . othing could hav s8ld the® gratetul e of B G v lifte 8lz - bm;flngl d their glasses to ome another “More iike the Dreslen chi and shepherdess than ever: sar Mog Graham. in talking over the affair with her husband. “And to think they are up- on the same shelf at last, and for good and all! Was there ever a prettier Baster Pastoral?™ (The End.)