A Little Girl in Old Washington

Entertainments began early. Tomlinson's Hotel was soon filled with guests, the beauty and fashion of the city. The captured flags of the Alert and Guerrière were arranged over a sort of dais where Mrs. Madison and the Cabinet ladies sat, while the secretaries stood about them. There was a host of military and naval men. Gold lace and epaulettes and swords gleamed with every movement, while women were lovely in satins and velvets and laces. Mrs. Madison wore a handsome gray velvet, trimmed with yellow satin and lace, and on her head a filmy sort of turban with some short white plumes. A neckerchief of fine soft lace rested lightly on her shoulders, but displayed the still beautiful throat and neck. The little curls across her forehead were still jet-black, and though women powdered and rouged, she was one of the few who "wore a natural complexion," said a newspaper correspondent.

One and another made a bow to her and passed on. Dr. Collaston and his wife, Jaqueline and a handsome young naval officer, and then Lieutenant Ralston and his young charge. Annis was a little bewildered. She had seen Mrs. Madison in the carriage, and at times walking about the grounds at the White House; but this really awed her, and a rush of color came to her fair face. Mrs. Madison held out her hand, and gave her a kindly greeting.

"What a pretty child!" she said to one of the ladies. "The American colors, too. How proud the lieutenant was of her! I remember now that Miss Jaqueline Mason is quite a belle. Perhaps it is her sister."

"That was beautifully done, Annis," whispered the lieutenant. "Now there is a friend of mine, a young midshipman, that you must meet. Will it be out of order for you to dance, I wonder? And there is Captain Hull. You must see all the heroes, so you can tell the story over your grandchildren."

It seemed to Annis that everyone must be a hero. There was the young middy, a Mr. Yardley, who did not look over sixteen, and who was going out on his first cruise next week.

"Has Miss Mason any relatives in the war?"

How queer "Miss Mason" sounded! She looked about to see who was meant. The young man complimented her on her colors. He had a brother, a lieutenant on the Constitution, and two cousins in the army on the frontier. We should gain the victory again, as we did in the Revolution. As a boy he used to be sorry he had not lived then, but this made amends. Only, nothing could compensate for not having seen Washington, the hero of them all.

Presently the dancing began. Mrs. Collaston and Jaqueline were both engaged, but Jaqueline put Annis in charge of a charming middle-aged woman whose daughters were dancing, and who, being a Virginian and residing at Yorktown, could recall all the particulars of the surrender of Lord Cornwallis.

Then Annis had her promised dance with the lieutenant. It was like a bit of fairyland. She thought Cinderella could not have been any happier with the prince. Afterward Mr. Yardley came, though by this time the floor was pretty well crowded. He was about to lead her back to Jaqueline, who was talking with Mrs. Todd, when she stopped suddenly and put out her hand.

"Oh!" she cried, then turned rosy-red.

"Is it – why, it is little Annis Bouvier! Child, how you have grown! Do they let you go to balls as young as this?"

"I wanted to so much. And it is beautiful! They are all here – "

There was a sudden commotion. Half a dozen gentlemen cut off their retreat. Then a whisper went round the room, growing louder and louder, and cheers sounded in the hallway.

"Ensign Hamilton with the captured flag!"

Secretary Hamilton rose, and the throng made way for him. Just at the doorway they met, the son with dispatches from Commodore Decatur and the captured colors of the Macedonian. A cheer almost rent the room. And as he advanced his mother met him with a clasp of wordless joy.

The President had been detained on some important business. But the procession made its way to the dais where the ladies were sitting, and the trophy of victory was unfurled amid loud acclamations. The band played "Hail, Columbia!" and when it ceased the young man modestly made a brief speech. The dispatches were for the President; the flag he laid at Mrs. Madison's feet – the flag that was next of kin to that of the Guerrière.

The enthusiasm was so great that the dancing stopped. The flag was raised to a place beside that of the other two trophies. Old veterans wiped their eyes, the ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and more than one voice had a break in it.

Annis stood breathless. Mr. Carrington towered above her, and he could barely see; but he had heard the story in the hall, and was repeating it. The clasp of her soft hand touched him.

"If you want to go nearer," he said to Mr. Yardley, "I will take care of Miss Annis. I am an old friend of the family."

"It would be hopeless to think of getting her to her sister's just now. Yes – I should like to see young Hamilton."

"That is excuse enough for anyone," and Carrington smiled, bowing a polite dismissal.

"I am so glad to find you!" Annis said with childlike simplicity. "We have missed you so much. Where have you been all this long time?"

"We? Who?" He bowed his head a little.

"Charles and I. And do you know Charles is ill and in the doctor's hands at Philadelphia?"

"No; I have been away three months – up on the northern frontier and in Boston. Poor Charles! Is he likely to recover?"

"He was to come home at Christmas, but he can't now," and she sighed a little. "And papa too," irrelevantly thinking of his earlier question. "We were all sorry."

"I don't think everybody could have been," after a little pause.

She raised her soft, beseeching eyes. "Are you still angry with Jaqueline?" she asked. "I am sure she is sorry. Patty teases her and says she will be an old maid because – "

Then Annis hung her pretty head.

"What makes you think she was sorry?"

He looked down into the eyes with an infinite persuasion, and his voice had an accent hard to resist.

"Oh! – because – she was sometimes so sad and sweet, and used to go walking by herself in the twilight. Occasionally she would let me come. I can't quite tell – there are some things you feel. And it isn't right to keep angry forever."

The child's tone was more assured. She was on firmer moral ground.

"Then you think I have been angry long enough?" It had seemed years to him.

"Papa was very angry and scolded Jaqueline, but didn't keep angry. Charles and I have been so sorry! Oh, you will make up friends?"

"You love Charles as much as ever, then? Happy Charles! When you have love you have all the best of life."

"Then why don't you ask Jaqueline to love you again? Oh, I am sure she would!"

There was a sweet seriousness in the face and the tone, the innocence of the child.

"And why didn't you go to Philadelphia?" he asked presently.

"I wanted to. Don't you think it hard for a little girl to be giving up her mother continually? But if it is best – They could not take me, and Jaqueline said she would be like mamma, and love me and care for me. She is ever so sweet. And Patty and the baby are delightful. I like Dr. Collaston too. And I am going to school to a queer, delightful little French woman, Madame Badeau. And the French I used to know out in Kentucky all comes back to me."

"Yes," smilingly. "I have seen Madame Badeau." The throng was beginning to move. "Suppose we go up and have a look at this wonderful flag? I think war terrible; but it is good to be on the winning side, and certainly our poor sailors have suffered long enough. When we are a terror to our enemies they will learn to respect us. But, thank Heaven, you know nothing about the terrible side here! May God keep you safely!"

She raised her eyes with a grave half-smile as if to thank him for his benison.

The President had come in now. The band was playing patriotic tunes, several inspiriting Scotch pieces, for just now no one seemed anxious to dance. Ensign Hamilton was one of the heroes of the occasion, and the pretty women were saying all manner of complimentary things to him. There in the throng stood Lieutenant Ralston and Midshipman Yardley, and, yes, there were Dr. and Mrs. Collaston.

Jaqueline was out of the group, listening to a vivid account of the taking of the Guerrière and the gala time there had been in old Boston Town.

Patricia turned and espied Annis, who held her head up proudly and looked as if she were used to going to balls every week of her life.

"Oh, Mr. Carrington!" reaching over a cordial hand. "What a stranger you are! I felt I ought to go in search of Annis, but I knew she was in good hands. Thank you for your care of her. Wasn't it all grand? Are you not proud of your country?"

"We have worked wonders on the sea, considering how unprepared we were and the strength of the enemy. I am no croaker, but we are not through yet. Heaven grant that we may be successful to the end! After all, we are a young nation; and we have fought in almost a new cause, the enlightenment of the people, not the glory or gain of kings."

"Annis, come and curtsey to some of these heroes. She is over-young for such a place as this, but it will be a proud thing to remember."

The throng shifted again. Ralston stepped aside and encountered Mr. Carrington.

"Roger, old fellow," – and though his tone was low it had a cordial heartiness, – "in this time of gratulation private feuds ought to be buried. You were wrong in your surmise, as I told you then. Between myself and Miss Mason there has never been anything but the sincerest friendliness. Still, I asked her to marry me and she declined. Hearts are not so easily caught in the rebound, after all. And though she has many admirers she has not been won. Let us be friends again in her honor, for her sake."

"For our own sake, Ralston. If we are ever to make a grand country we must be united man to man. There is need enough of it. A scene like this will go far toward healing many dissensions, public and private. And I beg you to pardon what I said out of a sore and desperate heart."

"Friends!" repeated Ralston joyously.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE FLAG OF VICTORY

It was true that the victories did go far toward healing dissensions. While the indignation against England had run high, there was a bitter opposition in some quarters to every act of the administration. There was jarring in the Cabinet as well as outside. The larger cities had never cordially approved of the Capital at Washington. They had had rejoicing over successes, and now it was the turn of the newer city.

Mrs. Madison's drawing room always presented a gay and beautiful aspect. Many strangers came to the city. Washington Irving paid a second visit, and was most graciously received and became a great favorite. Society took on a finer aspect. Poets appeared, mostly patriotic ones; and though to-day we may smile over them, their sincerity moved the hearts of their readers and won applause, inspired enthusiasm.

Jaqueline Mason had taken another ramble around the room when she saw Roger Carrington talking to her sister. The band played a grand march, and everybody fell into line, as this seemed to befit the occasion. Then some of the guests began to disperse, as the President, who looked very weary, and his smiling, affable wife, with so many more years of youth on her side, set the example.

Carrington loitered with the Collaston party, debating whether he should meet Jaqueline. It would break the ice, perhaps. Patty had been so cordial. She had taken on so many pretty married airs that were charming. She talked about her house and her lovely baby, how Annis had grown, and how sweet it was of her to be content without her mother, and how sad it was about Charles. Louis joined them, full of enthusiasm. And at last Jaqueline and her escort came up.

"We thought we should have to go home without you," Patty said gayly. "Come; it is late. The carriage has been here waiting ever so long."

Jaqueline bowed to her old lover. Major Day, in his military trappings, was quite an imposing figure, and how beautiful she was! She had been a pretty young girl when he first met her; she was young still, in that early dawn of womanhood before the bud had quite unfolded. Had he expected to see her faded and worn in this brief period?

They all wished each other good-night.

Why did he not "ask Jaqueline to love him again"? He was not as sure as Annis had been. And now everything was different. Patty was already quite a figure in society, and Jaqueline could have her choice of lovers, husbands.

Annis longed to tell over her little episode of the meeting, but there seemed no time. Jaqueline was always going out and having company. Louis teased Annis when he saw her.

"Two conquests in one night for a little girl!" he exclaimed. "Oh, I saw you dancing with the young midshipman, and then on high parade with Mr. Carrington, who looked grave and grand, as if he was escorting about a lady of high degree. I am afraid Madame Badeau will make a woman of you too fast. Do you not think it would be better to send her over to the convent to steady her, Patty?"

"Oh, I don't want to be shut up! I should run away. And I like the girls so much. The convent looks dreary. And they can walk only in that high-walled garden. I want the whole big outside world."

Louis laughed and pinched her cheek.

If Mr. Carrington wouldn't come and ask Jaqueline again, no one could do anything. Annis sighed in her tender heart, and felt that it was better not to retail the confidence.

Mrs. Madison's dinners were quite the events of the winter, and her levees were delightful entertainments. All parties began to harmonize more warmly; perhaps it was the gracious tact and affability of the hostess. The National Intelligencer espoused the cause of the Madisons enthusiastically, and congratulated the nation on his re-election. Roger Carrington began to haunt the entertainments he had so long shunned, or at the utmost merely devoted a few moments to them. Of course he met Jaqueline, who was simply indifferent, a much harder condition to overcome than if she had shown hauteur or resentment. And, then – in a worldly point of view she could do better.

For Washington, in a certain way, was prospering in spite of the war and privations. There was a feeling of permanence, as if the Capital really would be great some day. Houses were springing up, streets lengthening out, mudholes being filled up, pavements placed, and every year a little was added to the home of the nation.

The time ran gayly around. The winter had seemed unusually brief. March came in again, and with it the second inauguration of James Madison, when the Capitol grounds were thronged as never before. The President was paler and thinner, and though it had been a triumph for his party, he sighed often for the quiet and rest of Montpellier.

Mrs. Madison, in rose-colored satin and ermine, looked "every inch a queen," said the papers of the day. And happier than some of the queens off or on European thrones, even if she had carried a great burden the last two years. And the ladies of the republican court certainly were not lacking in beauty or grace. The foreign ministers and their wives, in all their brave array, hardly excelled them; and the army and navy were in force.

Annis went to the levee. It was quite a crush, but a pleasure to the child to see the brilliant throng. Louis was her escort, and he was proud of her refined and lady-like manners. The French grace in her nature had been assiduously cultivated by the woman who still thought there was no place like France.

"We will go home early," Patty said. "Jaqueline is to stay and help entertain. She's getting to be such a grand lady that I suppose she will be marrying a senator or a secretary next, and perhaps be Mrs. President herself. She and Mrs. Seaton are hand and glove." Mrs. Seaton was the pretty wife of the editor of the National Intelligencer. "But I am tired, and the doctor will be out all night, so we will get some beauty sleep."

She sent the servant for the carriage. One of the guests escorted them through the spacious hall and out on the portico. A merry party were coming up, and Annis, turning aside for them, slipped, landing in a little heap on the stone pavement. Patty uttered a cry.

A gentleman at the foot of the steps picked her up before Patty or Mr. Fenton could reach her.

"Oh, Mr. Carrington!" cried Patty; and now the other guests ran down to see what injury they had done, quite alarmed at the incident.

Annis drew a long sigh and flung her arms about her rescuer's neck, quite ignorant who it might be, but still frightened.

"No, I do not think I am hurt," in a shaken voice.

"Take her to the carriage, please," entreated Patty. "And, Mr. Fenton, do not mention it to my sister nor my brother, if you see them. Good-night, and thanks."

Mr. Carrington carried her to the edge of the walk and then put her down.

"I feel shaky," she began, with a tremulous laugh. "But I am quite sure I have not broken any bones."

Patty stepped in first. Mr. Carrington assisted Annis, and then studied the pale face.

"Do you not think I had better accompany you?" he asked solicitously.

"But you were just going in to pay your respects to Mrs. Madison – " declared Patty.

"I shall have four years more to do it in," he returned. "Where is the doctor? Yes, I had better be sure of your safety."

"He is out on business. Really, he is getting to be quite hard-worked. And if you would not mind. I should take it as a favor. Then we can see if Annis is really injured."

He sprang in, and the coachman closed the door.

"It was very funny to take that flying leap, as if I were a bird," and Annis could not forbear laughing. "What did I look like, dropping at your feet? I was so bundled up that I couldn't save myself. There is a bump swelling up on my forehead."

"Lucky if there is nothing worse," responded Patty.

Annis was carried up the steps and deposited on the drawing-room sofa. Patty took off her wraps, and made her stand up and try all her limbs. She began to feel quite natural and over her fright. There was a lump on her forehead, but her hood had protected the skin.

"I am delighted to think it is no worse," the gentleman said.

"And it is a pity to have disturbed you. But the doctor being out, I felt nervous; and a friend is so good at such a time. I am sure we are much indebted for your kindness."

Annis put out her hand and clasped his. "I am glad it was you," she said with simple thankfulness.

Then they talked of Charles. He had been put in a plaster jacket. Dr. Collaston was quite sure the best was being done, but it would be spring before he could be brought home.

Patty was very cordial at the parting, and invited him to call.

"And see what happens to me next," said Annis.

"You may be sure I shall want to know."

He did not go back to the levee. Jaqueline was there, being admired and flattered. Now and then he heard complimentary things said about her, and young men sent her verses, quite an ordinary event at that time. She had forgotten, and he remembered only too well. Annis must have been wrong, yet he had hugged the child's innocent prattle to his heart. He knew now he had not ceased to love her, yet he had thought in his pride that if she could love Ralston he would not stand in the way. His jealousy had been of the larger, finer type.

With all these opportunities she had accepted no lover. Her attractions were of a more refined kind than when she had made her first plunge into gayety. Was there something – No, he hardly dared believe it. He had been imperious and arbitrary.

He had not the courage to go the next day and inquire after Annis. He knew it was a polite duty. He walked down past Madame Badeau's little gray house when school was being dismissed. There was no Annis among the girls. What if she had been injured more than they thought! He would stop and inquire at the office. There were several men talking eagerly with the doctor, so he strolled around the corner. Yes, that was Jaqueline sitting with her face turned from the window, chatting to someone. The proud poise of the head, the shining dark curls just shadowing her white neck, the pink ear like a pearly sea shell, and then her slim white hand held up in some gesticulation, and the smile that made a dainty dimple. No, he would not interrupt her; so he walked on. If she had turned her head – but she did not.

He was very busy the next day. When he left the office a carriage full of young girls passed him. Some of them nodded; he was not quite sure whether she did or not. Now was his opportunity.

The day had been rather raw, with a fitful sunshine, but now it was clouding over. He walked briskly, and held his head erect, although he felt rather cowardly at heart. Why should he not put his fate to the touch, like a man, or dismiss her from his mind? He sauntered up the stoop and touched the knocker lightly – so lightly, indeed, that Julius, amid the clatter of Dinah's pots and pans, did not hear it.

The carriage stopped. It was rather dusky now, and a tree hid the figure at the door until Jaqueline was coming up the steps. His heart beat furiously. He turned, and they faced each other.

Her hat, with the great bow on the top, was tied under her chin with rose-colored ribbons. A satin collar edged with swan's down stood up around her throat and almost touched the pink cheeks. The great soft, dark eyes glanced out in surprise – they could flame in anger too, he knew that.

He had thought more than once how gradually he would lead up to that old time, and learn if she still loved him. And she had resolved upon a becoming humility on his part. He should admit that he had misjudged her, that he had been selfish, arbitrary, suspicious, jealous, and – oh, how many faults she had counted upon her white fingers!

"Jaqueline," he said almost under his breath – "Jaqueline!" – and it seemed as if his voice had never been so sweet, a fragrant shower falling on a long-parched heart. He was trying to find her hand; did it come out of the great muff quite as broad as her slim figure, all soft and warm, to be pressed to his lips?

"Are you very angry still?" she inquired in the dearest, most beseeching tone.

"Angry?" He had forgotten all about it. He had been fatuous, senseless, to think of such a thing!

"Because – " in a fascinating cadence of pardon.

"I have not had a happy moment." His voice was husky with emotion, with the love that he had told himself a hundred times was dead, and a hundred times had disbelieved.

"I had given you up. Not that I had ceased – to care. And that night of the ball, when the flags came, I was quite sure you loved me no longer."

"I shall love you always. I was mad, foolish, jealous – "

"And I did flirt. Oh, I was such a vain little thing then! I am better now. I do not think it so fine to have a host of men making love to you. Only you were wrong about – "

"Ralston? Yes."

"But you must know, he did ask me to marry him. I do not think it was for love."

"I am glad it was not. I told him he owed you an offer of marriage."

"But he did not. There had never been any foolish softness between us. A Virginian girl may flirt, but she doesn't give away the sweetness that only a lover is entitled to. And what if I had loved him?"

"If you had loved him I should have wished you Godspeed, after a while."

"But you couldn't have done it at first?"

"No, I couldn't." The hearty tone was convincing.

It was quite dark now. He put his arm about her and drew her nearer, nearer, and ceased to kiss her hand.

"Oh, my darling; here I am keeping you out in the cold! Are you almost frozen? And I came to hear about Annis. I have been wondering if I should ever meet you where I could say a word – "

"Annis is your very good friend. So was Charles. And papa was fearfully angry at my folly. They were all on your side."

"And now you are on my side?"

"Yes," with a soft, happy little laugh.

Then he knocked again. This time Julius heard, and answered.

Annis was sitting on the floor, playing with the baby, who was laughing and cooing.

"I thought you wouldn't come – ever!" she said vehemently. "I had a headache yesterday, and Patty wouldn't let me go to school, but the doctor said it didn't amount to anything. It was funny, though. Jaqueline, where did you find him?"