"I did not intend all this," she cried. "O, no! The stain of murder cannot be found on my soul! I only thought—the great Judge knows I would never have injured my own flesh and blood! The great Judge!" she repeated, while a tremor ran through her frame. "Yes, He knows I did not mean all this! I was compelled—having taken the first step there was no retreating! Ah, that first act! Whither will it lead me?"
In the morning the storm had passed and Mrs. Belmont came forth to light and life more rigid and stern than before. It was said that "her sorrows had made her grave; yet more grand and dignified," and soon the "presumptuous" whispers of blame were hushed, for one so noble as the "mistress of Rosedale" could not be guilty of crime! And the wave of public opinion closed over the scene and the waters of social life were calm again.
George St. Clair had remained in Charleston during these excitements, watching the progress of other scenes even more sad and cruel, yet free from the plague spots of crime, and bearing aloft the banner held to be of glory and honor for the reason that a nation, not an individual, had demanded the sacrifice of many lives, not one! South Carolina had drawn her ample robes more closely about her and with one pitiful leap had plunged over the fearful precipice down into the dark and unexplored depths of the yawning chasm of disunion, dragging after her a few of her unfortunate sisters. No wonder they stood and trembled upon the brink when it was once reached, for there were mysteries wholly unlooked for which seemed to lose their golden tints upon nearer approach and assume the dignity of practical realities. The little "affair" at Fort Sumter somehow had cast a shadow of foreboding over more than one chivalric heart.
Col. St. Clair met his commanding officer the morning after the surrender of the little half-starved garrison, standing alone viewing through his glass the noble fort with the new emblem of glory floating over it.
"Well—how do you like the looks of that, Colonel? The Morning Star with healing in its beams—ha?" Taking down his glass he turned to his companion, who had not yet spoken, and continued; "what the deuce is the matter with you St. Clair? Your face ought to be shining with victory, but instead it presents a perfect blank!"
"As unreadable as our future," he replied with an attempt at a smile.
"Ah! A discovery! Getting tired already! Hope the white feather has not began to grow as soon as this!" There was a sneer on the face of the speaker which his companion did not fail to notice.
"General," he said mildly, "I acknowledge with deference your superiority in military rank, but do not forget that the blood of the St. Clair's runs through my veins, disseminating through my being no mean cowardice, as you well know!" The general laughed.
"You are awake now my brave boy and more like yourself! I only wanted to arouse you! Now tell us, what is the matter? Something more than our surroundings disturbs you. Out with it!"
"What time do the Eaton's go north?" was the calm inquiry.