The White Rose of Memphis
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“I’ll fight it out on this line if it takes all summer,” said George III. as he walked round, describing a circle of fifteen feet. “The man who chucks me overboard shall go along with me; and who robs me of my purse, only cheats himself, and does not make me poor, indeed; because that has already been done long, long ago.”
“A man would be an expert pickpocket indeed who could steal a purse from me,” said Ivanhoe; “I have had no use for an article of that sort for many years; Scottie can testify truly.”
“I don’t suppose you have had any use for a purse since Confederate money went down,” replied Scottie.
“I think we had better consult Captain Quitman about this matter,” suggested Ingomar.
“Certainly, sir, I agree with you there,” observed the old gentleman with the white whiskers, “and if you will wait a moment I will bring him here.”
Captain Quitman soon appeared accompanied by the old gentleman.
“Well,” said the captain, “what’s the question to be discussed?”
The old man related, in a rambling manner, what the young lady in the black domino had heard. When he had finished the narrative, he began to stroke his long white whiskers with his left hand.
“What do you think of that, sir? Yes, yes, that’s the question, Captain Quitman; what do you think of that, sir?”
“Gammon, sir! all gammon!” muttered the captain, as he lighted a fresh cigar and began to puff the smoke in clouds above the old gentleman’s head.
“Gammon! gammon! zounds! sir, do you apply that epithet to the young lady who has the honor to be under my protection – I mean the young lady whom I have the honor to protect?” The old gentleman locked his hands under the tail of his coat, and began to prance around at a rapid rate. “Gammon! I think you said gammon, sir! What in the deuce do you mean by gammon, sir? Do you know the meaning of the word, sir? I ask you that, sir. Do you know, sir, that gammon and humbug mean the same thing? Why, didn’t you say the young lady was a humbug, sir, in plain terms! Answer me that, sir. I’ll have you understand, sir, that this young lady is no humbug; she is not gammon either, sir. If you call this unhappy young lady a humbug, sir, you shall answer for it; yes, answer for it. Is that plain enough for you, sir?”
“I beg pardon, sir,” said Captain Quitman, politely; “you have entirely misunderstood me, my good friend; I had no allusion to the young lady when I made the remark, I assure you. I am convinced that the young lady heard just what she stated; but I was inclined to think that the conversation she heard was gammon, or humbug, if you please; I infer that the conversation alluded to something that had occurred, not to a plan for future execution.”
“You did not mean to apply the word gammon to the young lady then?”
“Certainly not! certainly not! I had no thought of such a thing.”
“Then, sir, there’s my hand – I forgive you, sir, with all my heart. I am a peaceable man – fact is, sir, I never get excited. I am slow to anger; I love peace, but despise the word gammon. I don’t think such an odious word should ever be used. I had an uncle once who committed suicide under circumstances of the most distressing character. My uncle was a very handsome young man – everybody said he resembled me. He was a very sensitive, melancholy man; had a fashion of looking on the dark side of everything; the fact is, my uncle was an unhappy young man. He fell in love with a beautiful young widow, and for a long time he tried to muster up courage to ask her to marry him; but it was postponed from month to month, until another man entered the lists to contend for the fair prize. At first the beautiful widow was rather favorably inclined toward my uncle. Time went on – my uncle went on, too; so did the beautiful widow. After so long a time, my uncle at last, in a fit of desperation, asked the beautiful widow to marry him. What do you think was her reply, sir? Why, sir, she looked him full in the face and sneeringly said, ‘Gammon!’ The next morning my uncle’s remains were found in a briar patch with a bullet hole through his head; and on a sheet of paper, which he held clinched in his fist, appeared the odious word – gammon, in large letters made in red ink. Now, sir, you will readily understand why I was displeased when you used that word just now.”
“Ah, sir, I again most humbly ask your pardon – I certainly did not mean to use the word as in any way applicable to you or the young lady.”
“Again, sir, I offer you my hand; but I fear you do not attach as much importance to what the young lady heard as you should; in fact, sir, I think you are mistaken when you conclude that the conversation referred to something which had transpired at some previous time.”
“I am inclined to agree with this gentleman’s views,” observed George III., “because part of the conversation evidently referred to some one on this boat who was to be the victim. By the by, had you heard that my watch was snatched from my pocket but an hour ago?”
“Ha! is that so?” exclaimed Captain Quitman, who for the first time began to look serious. “This, indeed, is news to me – it must be looked into; whom do you suspect?”
“The man wearing the mask and uniform of Napoleon. There are three men on this boat wearing costumes that were worn by other men when we left Memphis.”
“I must confess that this information surprises me; this conduct looks suspicious; something must be done.”
“I think all masks should at once be discarded,” observed the old gentleman; “and I had advised that course before you came up.”
“No! no!” said Captain Quitman, “that would prevent us from catching the thieves. I think I can suggest a better plan; in fact, I believe we can manage to capture the rascals, if my plan is adopted. We will employ some one to watch the three suspicious men; meantime don’t mention this matter to any one; just let me manage the case. I’ll place guards on all parts of the boat, both day and night, with instructions to keep an eye on those three men. Let the amusements proceed as if nothing had happened – mention the matter to no one, and I’ll vouch for the result. I have a man on board who was in the detective service many years. I’ll put him on their tracks. Your watch shall be found, if the matter is left to me; if not, you shall be paid for it.”
“Your plan, sir, is evidently the best under the circumstances,” said Ingomar, “because if we unmask now that would enable the thieves to evade detection. Let the young lady in the black domino understand that she is not to tell any one about what she heard.”
“Do you remember the number of your watch?” inquired Captain Quitman, addressing George III.
“No.”
“What is its value?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where did you purchase it?”
“I – I, that is, I ah, hem! I didn’t buy it at all, sir.”
“Ah! a present then, I suppose, from some dear friend?”
“No.”
“You inherited it from deceased relations?”
“No.”
“Then how in the deuce did you come by it?”
“I borrowed it from a friend.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed the jolly old captain, “that makes the loss a more serious one; but never mind, you shall have your watch again soon, or cash enough to satisfy your friend.”
“But suppose those suspicious individuals should try to leave the boat,” said the old gentleman with the white whiskers.
“I shall instruct the guards to arrest them, and compel them to unmask and submit to a search, whenever they attempt to leave the boat.”
Ingomar and Captain Quitman then walked away, followed by the old gentleman with the white whiskers.
“Well, Scottie, I’ll give you a nickel for your thoughts.”
“Keep your nickel; and you had better not seek to know my thoughts just now, for they are not of a very pleasant nature. However, one idea has found its way into my scanty brain, which I have no objection to your knowing.”
“Let me have it, pray; any little idea of yours would be acceptable to me.”
“The black domino is a humbug, and her guardian is an old fool; there now, you have got at least one idea; do what you please with it.”
“Yes, and a very bright little idea it is, too; something of the same sort has been knocking for admission at the back door of my brain-pan for some time.”
“Ah, indeed! I hope it did not knock very hard.”
“Scottie, dear, don’t cut so deep, pray.”
“Don’t call me ‘Scottie, dear,’ if you please; I am tired of it. It is time for the queen’s party to re-assemble, and I want Ingomar to hurry through with his story, because when that is done the masks must all be laid aside.”
“Take my arm, Scottie.”
“No, no, that’s not the style now; you take mine.”
“Good enough; anything to get you in a good humor.”
“I smell tobacco, and something else; I believe it is gin.”
“Ha, hem! I dare say you smell tobacco, but as to gin, I expect you are mistaken; it’s brandy.”
“Well, either is bad enough, and I despise both.”
CHAPTER XXVIII
A great change was perceptible among the merry maskers when they had re-assembled in obedience to the orders of the queen. The different members of the party dropped in one at a time, taking their seats in silence. One circumstance happened which created some little excitement and no little curiosity. Henry of Navarre, who had kept away from the party up to this time, came forward and, bowing very low to the queen, asked permission to join the party to hear the story. As Navarre made his request she gave a sudden start, as if the sound of the voice had frightened her; and a perceptible tremor was discernible in her tone as she requested him to be seated. Napoleon, instead of taking his seat near the queen, took up his position by the corner of the pilot house, some distance from the spot occupied by the other maskers. One of the party called to him and requested him to take his place. He shook his head, but made no reply; and the queen commanded Ingomar to proceed.
“My good friends, I am now about to reach that part of my story which gives me more pain than pleasure to relate; in fact, I may venture to say that it will be all pain and no pleasure. I would gladly skip over a portion of the story, but that would leave a gap which would show an unfinished job. There is one circumstance, in this connection, which I consider it to be my duty to mention. During all my sufferings there was a sustaining influence that held me up – an invisible, indescribable presence all the time with me that kept me from dying with despair. That most potent influence was secured by humble, devout, sincere, secret prayer, coupled with an unswerving determination to discharge my whole duty under all circumstances. This strange influence seemed to surround me on all occasions; and it enabled me to keep my head above the huge waves of trouble that were dashing against me with great fury. To be plain, I put my trust in God; and He did not forsake me. Some people would be disposed to sneer at sentiments of this character. In fact, I have often heard such sentiments ridiculed; and I have as often known men to change from the one extreme to the other. I knew a young man in Memphis, a few years ago, who had occasion to change his views. The change was brought about in a most singular manner. The young man was assisting some workmen to cover a very tall house, situated on Shelby street. A conversation had been going on for some time among the laborers, on the questions connected with the future state. The young man seemed to be the leader in the conversation.
“‘I don’t believe that God answers prayers,’ said he; ‘I don’t believe He pays any attention to the concerns of men; I never prayed in my life, and I am healthy and happy. I think it is simple in a man to ask God for anything. He knows what we want; and if He wishes us to have it He will give it to us without our asking.’
“As he uttered the last word his feet slipped from under him and he fell at full length on his back. The north side of the roof was covered with a white frost, which caused the young man’s feet to slip. The building was three stories high; and from the ground to the eaves was nearly forty feet. The young man was standing near the top of the roof, and as he uttered the sentence, he stepped over on the north side to get a hammer that he had left there, when he fell flat on his back; his body darted toward the edge of the roof like a lump of ice gliding down the mountain side. At the very brink of the roof, a nail caught in his clothes and stopped him. His legs were hanging over the edge while his body lay back on the shingles. The ground near the foundation of the house was covered with innumerable large stones, with hundreds of sharp corners and edges, which every one knew would cause the young man’s death, if he fell on them. There the man’s body swung forty feet above the ground – only held by a little number four nail. The slightest movement might send his soul across the dark river. I have heard many people pray, but such a prayer as that young man uttered then and there I have never heard before or since. The most solemn promises of reformation were made, the most earnest appeals to God for help. A ladder was quickly brought from an adjoining hook and ladder company’s quarters, and the young man was saved. If any of my friends have a desire to know the name of this young man, go to all the churches in Memphis and hear all the Christians pray – then select the one that prays longest and loudest – that’s he.
“But I crave your pardon, my friends, for this digression, and will return to my story. We left Grenada at 8.50 sharp. The night was unusually dark; heavy clouds overspread the horizon and a steady patter of rain-drops could be heard falling against the windows of the coach. Harry and myself were the only occupants, and the train consisted of the engine, tender, and a single car in which we rode. Occasionally I would hoist the sash of the window in order to let the cold damp atmosphere cool my burning cheeks – for I felt as if my blood were boiling hot. As the head-light of the engine cast its bright rays on the trees along the road, I could see that we were dashing on with lightning speed. I occupied a seat on the left side of the coach, while Harry sat on the right, and immediately opposite the one where I was. When the windows were all down, there was an overpowering feeling of suffocation that was unbearable; and when they were up, the wind came dashing in accompanied by streams of rain. I would close the window and endure the oppressive closeness as long as I could; then hoist the sash again, letting the wind and rain pour in until my face would be cooled. I had borrowed Harry’s watch, and sat with it open in my hand, counting every second of time, which seemed to linger unusually long. A mental question kept presenting itself to my mind: Will I ever see Lottie again? Will she be dead before I get there? What is to be my fate in the future? Can I consent to drag out a long, miserable existence, after my darling has gone to Heaven? I made a solemn vow to God that I would not rebel against His will, but that I would humbly submit to, and bear without complaint, such punishment as He, in His great wisdom, might send upon me. I earnestly begged for Lottie’s life. No one ever prayed more humbly and sincerely than I did on that occasion; and I believe Harry did the same – though he sat silently in his seat, apparently buried in his own sad thoughts. Sometimes he would turn his face toward me and point to the watch which I held in my hand – this I understood to be an inquiry as to the time. The only answer I made was to hold the watch close to his eyes. He would glare at it, then lean back in his seat, without uttering a word.
“Every now and then the wind would dash in through the window, scattering the falling rain over my face, causing the lamp to flare up and spatter; then for an instant the feeble light would flicker and struggle as if in the last agonies of dissolution. After an unusual gust had dashed in, bringing with it a copious shower of rain, I was compelled to close the window to prevent the lamp from being totally extinguished. As soon as I had excluded the air, the same feeling of suffocation that had annoyed me so often came upon me with redoubled severity. I could not get enough air into my lungs notwithstanding I was struggling to do so. I felt as I suppose one feels when dying; in fact, I do not believe that the actual pains of dissolution could have increased my sufferings.
“Harry made a sign signifying a wish to know the time. I managed to hold the face of the watch so he could see it.
“‘9.20,’ he whispered, as he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. The lamp now began to sing and sputter, spitting the oil up through the chimney, making a dozen different sounds. It would dart a bright blaze nearly to the top of the chimney, then sink down so low that no light could be seen. It would whine like a young child, then sing; at times it would sputter – then pop, pop, pop, like the cracking of a small whip; anon it would whistle – and blaze up, casting a dazzling light all over the seats – then drop back to its usual dim dimensions. After it had performed a dozen such strange freaks, it gave one long shriek and suddenly expired. We were left in total darkness; a darkness as black as blindness itself. A ton’s weight seemed to be pressing on my breast; I felt that my last moment had come. I sank down on the seat without the strength to hold up my head; I was in a swoon. The first sensation I experienced, after my reason returned, was that of the most delicious pleasure. The strangest, but most exquisite, feeling of happiness seemed to steal over me; the most mysterious influence appeared to surround me. The smothering sensation was gone, and a delightful absence of pain was in its stead, and at once the coach seemed to be filled with the most delicious perfume, such as I had so often enjoyed while with Lottie in her flower garden. ‘What does it mean?’ I asked myself. ‘How could the coach be filled with such delightful odor when all the windows were closed?’
“‘Harry, what in Heaven’s good name does this mean?’ I at last managed to ask.
“‘Hush, Ed,’ he whispered, ‘some one is in this coach – it is a lady; I felt her skirts brush past my knees!’
“‘Lottie!’ I exclaimed, as I sprang to my feet.
“‘What do you mean?’ whispered Harry, as he caught me by the arm, while he was trembling like one in an ague fit.
“‘Lottie, darling, is it you?’ I gasped, while Harry still held me by the arm.
“‘Are you mad?’ he exclaimed, as he closed his fingers about my arm. ‘Why do you call Lottie? Don’t you know she is dying in Memphis?’
“‘She was here this very moment; I felt her skirt brush my knee, and I believe she called my name,’ I replied.
“‘Nonsense! I think there’s a lady in this coach – she passed me a moment ago. I distinctly felt her skirts brush against my knees as she went down the aisle.’
“‘Upon my honor, I thought I heard Lottie call my name.’
“‘Pshaw! Edward, of course that is all imagination, and I beg you not to talk so. I suspect that some one is trying to steal a ride; I am sure there is some one in this coach besides you and me. Try to calm yourself; what makes you tremble that way?’
“‘It is yourself who is trembling; let go my arm – you are hurting it! I declare, you are shaking as if you had an ague fit!’
“‘Yes, and your hand is as cold as ice.’
“‘Hark! what was that? did you hear anything?’
“‘No, but as I live I felt some one brush past me.’
“‘So did I; and it was a female, beyond all doubt, for I felt her skirts touch me as she passed, just as I did a moment ago.’
“‘Yes, and I distinctly felt something tickle my left cheek; it was the same feeling I had so often experienced when Lottie was near me, and a stray lock of hair would touch my face.’
“‘I declare, this is the strangest mystery that I ever heard of! Give me a match and let me relight the lamp, so we can see who it is.’
“‘I have not got a match – you will have to go and request the fireman to come and light it. Pray do so at once, for this darkness is distressing.’
“As soon as Harry went out to bring the fireman, I again felt something softly passing across my cheek. I threw out my arms, expecting to catch the living body of some person; but not so – I caught nothing. As I turned round I felt the same touch on my right cheek. It might have been imagination, but I thought I again heard Lottie calling my name. The truth is, I was so much overcome with excitement that I scarcely knew what was going on around me. Harry was out but a few moments, returning accompanied by the fireman, who immediately lighted the lamp. We procured a lantern and began to search for the mysterious passenger. We carefully examined every seat, looking under each bench, but could find nobody. We went out and examined the rear platform, thinking that probably some one might be stealing a ride, but nothing of the sort was to be seen. I became perfectly convinced that no one was concealed either in or outside of the coach. I was overwhelmed with astonishment at the singular mystery. When I told Harry what had occurred during the time he was gone after the fireman, informing him that I thought I heard Lottie’s voice distinctly call my name, he fixed his eyes upon my face, and gazed steadily for a moment, as if to satisfy himself that I had not gone mad.
“‘Ed,’ said he, ‘your mind has been taxed too heavily of late; I think it is quite unsettled. I do not believe you ever were inclined to be superstitious.’
“‘No,’ said I, ‘superstition has never been classed among my many faults; but on this occasion I must confess that I am unable to tell exactly what I do think. It may be as you say, that sorrow has to some extent unsettled my mind; but nevertheless I am sure I heard some one call my name, with a voice I could recognize among ten thousand. My telegram will be answered; the answer will meet us at Sardis; it will bring news of Lottie’s death; it will tell us that she died at 9:20; you will remember that was the exact time when the coach was filled with the delicious fragrance. That was the very moment when the lamp died, and then it was that we felt the skirts of a lady’s dress brush past us. Harry, our darling is dead, and as sure as we live her sweet spirit was with us here in this coach.’
“‘Oh, Edward, don’t talk that way, I beseech you! I declare, you frighten me. You are as pale as a ghost; sit down and try to be calm. You will regret this language when you get over the excitement.’
“I leaned back on the seat, closed my eyes, and endeavored to analyze the mysterious occurrences that had just happened; but the more I thought of the matter the more unsettled became my mind, and I began to try to fix my thoughts on other objects, but all seemed confusion and mystery. Harry settled himself down on the cushion and leaned his head on the back of the seat, closed his eyes and silently communed with his own thoughts. Not another word was uttered by either of us until the train drew up in front of the hotel at Sardis. A considerable crowd of people began to collect about the spot, having been somewhat surprised, no doubt, at the arrival of a train at that unusual time. Every now and then a man’s head would be thrust in at the door – then suddenly withdrawn. It was but a few seconds after the train had halted when Mr. Steelbrim poked his head in at the door, and, holding an envelope in his hand, said:
“‘A telegram for Edward Demar.’
“My hands trembled so that I could scarcely open the envelope; but at length I did, and read as follows:
“‘MEMPHIS, 9.30 P. M.“‘My Dear Boy – Trust In God. He will sustain you. All is over. Lottie died at 9.20. Her last words were love messages to you. She expired with your picture in her hand, while it was moist with her kisses. Don’t let this awful blow crush you. Remember that you can go to her, if she cannot come to you. Rely on Him who alone can give you comfort now. Her last moments were free from pain, and she was not alarmed at the approach of death. Her mind was clear to the last. We know her pure soul is now in Heaven. God grant, my dear boy, that we may meet our darling there. The funeral will take place at 4 P. M. on to-morrow evening. A carriage will meet you at the depot.
“‘DODSON.’“‘It is just as I told you, Harry,’ I said, as I handed him the dispatch and fell back on my seat. I did not faint; I did not even groan, because I was prepared for the awful blow. I felt as if some strong man held my throat in an iron grip, and that the breath was being choked out of me. I pushed the sash up and let the wind and rain pour in on my hot brow, while I was struggling to fill my lungs. As soon as Harry finished reading the dispatch he let it fall to the floor, and his body went down with it. I saw him fall, but I was unable to go to his assistance; in fact, I never thought of offering aid; I was thinking of my own grief.