“Your family is Southern, I believe,” said Mr. Delano.
“I am,” said Mrs. Forest, a little proudly, “but my husband is not.”
“No,” said the doctor, “I am of the good old New England, witch-burning stock; though I lived South many years.” Mr. Delano asked him if he did not find his sympathies in this war rather on the side of the South. “No more than with the North,” he answered. “I deplore it for the injury it must do to the whole country and to the world at large. The moral sense of the civilized world has a natural right to forbid anything so imbecile as an appeal to arms.”
“Do you suppose, sir,” asked Miss Delano, “if you had taken the vote of all the people of this country on the question of war or secession, the majority would have decided for secession?”
“Most certainly I do, if you mean the people, madame, and not simply the fighting portion. Men would not vote for war if it involved the destruction of their mothers and sisters, daughters, wives, and sweethearts, and women are said to be more tender towards those they love, than men are.”
“I must say,” said Mrs. Forest, “I do not think any nation has a right to declare war without consulting women—those who must be the greatest sufferers in the end.” This was very bold for Mrs. Forest, who seldom expressed opinions on such questions. This was just after the emancipation proclamation, and the doctor remarked that the abolition of slavery was a grand result, but even that was purchased too dearly.
“I never identified myself with the abolition movement,” said Mr. Delano, not mentioning the fact that, as a cotton-broker, his policy did not lie in that direction; “but slavery is a relic of barbarism, and therefore out of place in the nineteenth century. Still you are right, perhaps, that war does really never settle vexed questions. I foresee confusion worse confounded in our future political relations with the South.”
Mr. Delano and his daughter stayed quite late, and evidently enjoyed their visit, and were more pleased with the family of Albert’s future wife than they had expected. When they were gone, Mrs. Forest inwardly thanked God that the conversation had been providentially prevented from drifting into religion or woman’s rights, and went to bed in a very serene state of mind.
CHAPTER XVII.
COSTLY GRAPES.
When Dan left his father’s house after his rejection by Miss Marston, he was really wretched for the first time in his life; yet the experience did not soften him as fine natures are softened by unhappy love. Between his set teeth he called her hard names, and cursed himself for giving her the opportunity to reject his offer. He passed Susie during this walk, who, being surprised, looked up into his face with the old light in her eyes. He met her eyes as we meet a stranger’s, without a sign of recognition; whereat the poor girl’s limbs trembled, and putting down her veil after passing him, she walked on blinded by her tears.