Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 186: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

UNTO THE FOURTH GENERATION. It came in contact with a bit of shrub- bery and it recalled him to himself. He had wandered to .the garden and his hand had touched a flower. He looked down upon it and he smiled that same strange unfathomable smile. “ Rosemary?” he said half question- ingly, and he raised his head as a con- queror—as might Richard of old. ‘* Rosemary? Why, that’s for remem- brance.” IT. SUE stood a slender, girlish figure in white, with jasmine in her hands and tn her hair. Her usually pale face was flushed with excitement and her voice was trembling with indignation. The man standing at the foot of the steps looked up at her and smiled. She saw it and it maddened her. “You do not deserve to bear the name you do,” she said, “ you disgrace it and your birthright as a Virginian in siding with the North.” “You forget, Jean, that Peyton Ravenscroft of old was among the first to fight for liberty.” “No, I do not,” she answered, “ but he fought in defense of his State and he f6ught for the girl he loved.” “Jean,” the other cried, “don't be so cruel; can’t you see how hard it 1s to do what I think is right?” “Ts it right to fight against the State that gave you birth? Is it right to fight against your kin? Is it right to fight against the people of whose boundless hospitality you have re- ceived? Is this right?” ‘Jean ”—he began, and ran up the steps with outstretched hands to where she stood; she stepped back and mo- ,tioned him away from her. “Don’t come a step nearer!” she said passionately; “don’t touch me!” He obeyed; his arms fell to his side, but his eyes met hers unflinchingly. “Ts it right to turn against the land that taught the boy; that trained the soldier; that made of me a man? Is 177 it right to forget that while my father was of the South, my mother was of the North? Is it right to turn a deaf ear to the cry of the oppressed ? ”’ Her only answer was to move towards the door. Suddenly she stopped; the anger vanished: from her face and she half held out her hand. ‘“ Peyton,” she said, and the low, mu- sical cadence of her contralto voice thrilled the man strangely, “ Peyton, do not leave me—stay with me—do nct fight against me and my people! ” He went up to her and took her hand, his face softening with love’s charm. - She believed that she had won. In a moment he had recovered him- self. “IT cannot,” he said. She shook off his detaining touch and drew herself up, the pride of all the Ravenscrofts shining in her eyes. “Then you can go,” she said, “ and remember that the day you raise your hand against the South you will have vanished as utterly out of my life as though you had never existed, and that I never wish to see your face again! ”’ “Jean,” he cried, “remember my love for you—Jean.” For a moment she paused in the doorway and looked back over her shoulder at him. “ This is not the way we love,” she said; “but I forget that you of the North are colder—there are still those who can fight for the land I love and as well—love me!” The sound of horses’ hoofbeats broke in upon the moment’s silence that had fallen when her voice ceased. The girl raised her head and turning, ran quickly past Ravenscroft to meet the man who drew rein before the door. “ Richard,” she cried, “ Richard, I surely thought you were never coming. I have waited for so long!” He caught her hand eagerly and his tace glowed at the warmth of her greet- ing’. , “Ah! my Lady Bird,” he said, “I could not keep away; you are the pole ECORRIC OO© SS) eo