José.

Front matter

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PRIMROSE EDITION.

Prologue

A warm, sultry, summer night rested upon the Mississippi Valley; the moon, enveloped in a fine mist, was as lifeless as though she was fast asleep under the enervating influence of the soft, still air.

The forest landscape, like a silvery thread, stretched away in the distance and, in the East, dim gleams of lightning that rent the heavy clouds, gave warning of an approaching storm.

A woman was rapidly pacing the highway from Big River to St. Louis.

She had reached the eminence which commands a view of the valley, with its cultivated acres and isolated farm-houses, when she paused, turned, and sank upon her knees. She stretched out her hands toward the dwellings, beneath the rough shingles of which peace and prosperity seemed to dwell in happy harmony. Her lips were lightly compressed, and every lineament of her face expressed the bitter pangs of a tortured heart. Suddenly, she clasped her hands over her face, lowered her head, and ^urst into a passionate torrent of tears aPd sobs,

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The paroxysm was of short duration and ^ suddenly as it came. The girl then rose abruptly, wiped her eyes, and pressed both hands to her bosom, as if determined to suppress her emotion.

A strange apparition surely ; this youthful, beautiful creature, trembling beneath a great grief, in a country road at night, alone.

A summer bonnet, fashioned of some light material, had fallen back upon her shoulders, revealing a mass of glossy, black hair and a dark face, the beauty of which was plainly visible by the light of the moon. Her simple dress, though fashioned like those of the good farmers’ wives of the neighborhood, was distinguished by a fantastic charm, all its own, which set off to advantage the singular grace of her person.

Once more her large black eyes swept the valley below, then, as the first merry crow of a chanticleer was wafted up from one of the farms, the girl started to her feet, in alarm, put on her bonnet with a nervous gesture, turned her face in the direction of St. Louis, and pursued her way with hasty strides.

JOSK

Chapter I. Joseph And Pepita

The Apple Farm was tenanted by a German family named Bottcher.

They had struggled hard to clear the farm of its incumbrances, and were unable to do so till their son Joseph returned from California with a handsome capital, which he had wrested from the mines by patient industry and hard work.

Joseph did not return alone with his gold, but brought a beautiful, dark-skinned maiden, who was his bride.

There was a romance attached to the wooing, but this the sturdy German parents failed to see, but their young daughter, who was about to be married to a young farmer, understood it all, and had at once clasped the Mexican girl in her arms with true sisterly affection.

When Joseph was ill, and far away from friends and kindred, Pepita had taken care of him and saved his life, and became attached to him with all the impetuous warmth of her nature. Touched by her tender devotion, and from a characteristic German instinct of gratitude, the young man made her his wife. Snatched from bitter povertv by the timely return of their son, the parents did not venture to object to Pepita’s presence openly, but they were sadly disappointed in Joseph s choice.

Reared without restraint, or a proper sense of domestic propriety, the young wife flitted among the family of strict German notions as a filly does josk in harness. It is true, that to please Joseph, Pepita adopted the fashions of those around her, and against her will had rolled up her long, thick braids, which were so becoming to her but excited too much attention, at the back of her head.

The girl had succeeded in changing her outward appearance, but she had not been able, at will, to remold her nature. The love she bore her young husband had impelled her to practice all those virtues of domestic economy which adorn a frugal housewife, which are so essential on a farm, and in which she was so sadly remiss, but no employment had charms to confine her to the house longer than an hour. She would grow restless, leap to her feet, and seek the air. Her customary path led either to the woods, whence she would return after an absence of hours, as happy as a child — and people said they had seen her sit in the grass, adorning her hair with wild fiowers and beguiling her work with a song which she trilled in a strange tongue— or she would run to the meadows where the two horses were grazing, chase and frighten the patient animals, lure them back to her with flattering words, stroke their nostrils, and then leap upon their backs without saddle or bridle ; ride the terrorized nags through the gate at a wild gallop, right up to the edge of the woods, leap to the ground with a wild laugh, and drive them back into the inclosure with strange exclamations.

J oseph fondly hoped that time would gradually subdue her fierce spirit; but when she began to furnish food for the gossip of the neighborhood; when father and mother shook their heads in silent grief, the young man resolved to make an earnest appeal to her, She burst into a passionate ht of

JOSK weeping, threw her arms around his neck, and fell at his feet, till Joseph was glad to compose her again. This marked a change in her life. She grew thoughtful and grave from this time on, and devoted herself unremittingly to her prescribed tasks.

Winter succeeded a cold, cheerless autumn, confining indoors all, and none could escape the discomforts of the severe atmosphere, and Joseph ’promised himself a favorable turn in his wife’s condition. But Pepita’s silence was that of the captive forest bird whose wings are clipped, which falls into the drawing-room, flutters with an attempt at gayety, pecks at the window panes and sadly hops back to its corner. As Pepita was in delicate health, Joseph ascribed her depressed feelings to this condition, and flattered himself with the decision that the instincts of maternity would eventually curb the old intractable spirit that dwelt within her ; but with each recurring day the roses on the dusky cheeks of the young wife grew paler and paler ; for hours she would sit at the window peering into the foggy atmosphere ; like a broken reed she would respond to the call of some light duty ; and now Joseph’s smooth brow began to grow darker and darker.

When he spoke to her in words of encouragement, she would say: “Am I not obeying you?” or else she would cast herself on his breast and weep scalding tears, that seemed to give her no relief.

Thus the winter drew to a close, and with the increasing traces of sorrow that marked Joseph’s face, the gloom that had settled upon the household grew more oppressive. One day in early spring, when all outdoor naturp whispered of new birth, th^

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inmates of Apple Farm moved back and forth from room to room, silently and in anxious expectation, for Pepita was very ill. But alas! all poor Joseph’s bright anticipations were doomed to disappointment, and he was very unhappy.

The young wife recovered slowly, and when she was again able to stir about, they suffered her to do as she pleased. On the first warm day, Joseph, himself, led Pepita forth into the woods and gathered the sweet spring flowers for her. The warmhearted, impulsive creature embraced her husband, and said :

“Jose, I intended to make you so happy, but I have failed. Oh, that we were back in California, where I could watch over you, die for you if necessary ; where no one spies upon the steps of the Mexican girl who adores you!”

These words seemed to express the feelings that thenceforth dominated her.

No one interfered with her in any way, and when she chose to keep at some domestic work, she was permitted to do so. If she remained absent from the house half a day at a time, she met no inquiring looks nor censuring remarks when she returned ; but upon each countenance there was stamped an expression of painful resignation.

Since her daughter’s marriage. Mother Bottcher did the household work alone, despite the increasing hardship of her advancing age.

J oseph seemed to redouble his energy in an effort to create relief wherever possible.

No one ever discussed the domestic affairs of the family, and things might have gone on in the even tenor of their way had not another German, hailing from the same neighborhood in the old country as

Jose.

the Bottchers, settled near them. The new-comer had two daughters, pictures of sturdy robust womanhood, and they had frequently called at the Apple Farm for advice and assistance. Joseph had twice gone home with them to render some neighborly help ; and so it transpired that as Pepita was one afternoon returning from one of her customary rambles, and was accidentally passing an outbuilding, she heard the elder Bottcher’s voice :

“It is a sorry lot for us, wife,” she heard him say; “and what will it all end in? In your old age you are working harder than ever, while you should long ago have surrendered your place to some sturdy daughter-in-law. Joseph’s face grows thinner and paler, though he keeps his troubles to himself, and I haven’t the heart to speak to him about it. But what will it all lead to? Now there are the two Vogel girls. Ah! what a wife one of them would have been for Joseph I He seems to realize his condition more fully since their arrival. I can tell by the way he eyes the elder ; but it is of no use now ! What will be the end when you can go on no longer?”

“God is wise,” replied the wife; “and shapes all things for a purpose ; therefore speak not of it, that our hearts may not grow sadder still ; but bear the inevitable as I do!”

Pepita stood still and listened to the conversation with large, staring eyes, as if some strange thoughts and visions were passing through her mind; and then she cowered down in the grass, pressed her face into her hands, and so remained, silent and motionless as the tree trunks all around her.

She did not enter the house until the sun was going down, her face paler than usual, though no

JOSA one observed it. Her absence from the supper table excited no comment. She had gone to her own apartment, and when Joseph silently entered soon after sundown, lamp in hand, Pepita raised slowly and said :

“Jose, I am ill. I have been dreaming of California again. I have a great desire to see some gold. Will you not give me a few pieces? I truly believe tney would make me feel better.”

The young man crossed silently over to a large wooden chest, that stood in the corner of the room, raised the lid, and took out five ten-dollar gold pieces, and handed them to his young wife with the air that one humors a sick child. Pepita drew his hand toward her, gazed at the sparkling metal, and then closed her fingers over the money.

“Now, Jose,” she said, “give me a kiss,” and as he bent his head over her, she embraced him with fervid energy, kissed him repeatedly, and then leaned back upon her pillow.

A look of resignation rested upon Joseph’s face as he extinguished the light and retired.

When at early day -break he awoke, after a night’s refreshing sleep that caused him to forget his weariness and cares, Pepita’s place was unoccupied.

Her early rising would have excited no surprise, accustomed as he was to his wife’s eccentric habits in all things, had the morning been pleasant, but it was raining. Field and forest were clothed in a light fog, and presented no charms for outdoor exercise.

Joseph leaped from his couch, and dressed with nervous haste.

As he looked for his hat, a little white piece of paper, which was pinned upon it, met his eye.

A strange premonition possessed him as he seized it, and recognized at once Pepita’s awkward chirography, which he had often laughed at in happy days gone by. The young man’s face was very grave now as he read the words that were written in Spanish, a slight knowledge of which he had.

“Be happy again, Joseph, thou and thy parents, and forgive me for the harm I have done you. I am going whence I came. Farewell a thousand times, and forget thy weeping:

“ Pepita.”

Joseph glanced quickly about the room. Not an article of his wife’s daily attire remained.

With conflicting emotions he rushed down stairs, determined to pursue her.

Now that Pepita was really gone, all her faults appeared in a milder light to Joseph, and a feeling of supreme pity and love mastered him.

When he told his father and mother what had transpired, and announced his determination to follow and bring* his wife back, the former placed his hand upon his son’s shoulder and said:

“Do as you will, Joseph, but ask yourself if this fugitive from the forest can ever be domesticated between the four walls of a civilized household. She has realized what is best for her, as well as for you, and there is for your aged parents to enjoy a happiness of which they had long despaired.”

Joseph left his horse unsaddled.

JOSE.

Chapter II. An Interesting Adventure

The Jackson and Vicksburg train had not arrived; that was the topic of ail absorbing interest at every station along the short line. Under the broad piazza of the hotel at Dixon’s, which commanded a full view of the railway track, sat a numerous group of people, indulging in ten different theories in regard to the lateness of the train, criticising the solidity of culverts and trestles, whittling chips of wood, and spitting tobacco juice.

Not far from the portico, in the shade of a wide-spreading elm tree, a young man had seated himself. comfortably, and was blowing blue clouds of smoke into the air from his cigar. A broad-rimmed Panama shaded a face framed in a dark, soft, full beard, that offered a striking contrast to the smoothshaven faces of the group under the portico. His genial appearance and soft white hands justified the conclusion that he belonged to the fashionable circles of society. And this surmise was well founded, at least in one direction. The gentleman was none other than Henry Baumann, first clerk of the firm of Flister, Becher, & Co., one of the largest European fur houses, which had commissioned him to study this branch of trade in the United States, and, if possible, to open new and more direct business connections. Henry had secured letters in New York and Boston to the North-western fur stations, then had drifted into Missouri, and had there witnessed extensive arrangements

JOSA for a large overland expedition to New Mexico and Chihuahua. His letters had quickly introduced him to the projectors of the enterprise, and his desire to neglect no opportunity to see the country and make the acquaintance of the people, had induced him to become one of a party that had gone to Mississippi to buy a herd of mules for the expedition. We find him waiting for the train which was to take him to Vicksburg, thence to continue his journey up the river.

Somewhat impatient, he had just thrown away the end of his cigar, risen to his feet to stretch his limbs, when he observed a light carriage, drawn by a single horse, turn the corner of the nearest clump of bushes that skirted the road leading to the depot. The colored boy who acted as driver halted the conveyance near the hotel, and a lady attired in a light traveling suit stepped out. She made a swift survey of her surroundings, and was in the act of taking the direction of the town, while the conveyance rolled back over the road it had come, when her eye caught a glimpse of the young German. For a moment she paused irresolutely, then she walked directly to him.

I appeal to you, sir, to permit me to take your arm,” she said, hastily, stretching forth a small, white hand, while with the other she raised the vail that half concealed her face ; “ and I beg you not to act surprised. We are doubtless observed from the hotel, and I must excite no attention. Let me take your arm ; we will stroll through the town, and I will explain everything as we walk.”

In his surprise, which he had not been quite able to subdue despite the admonition, Baumann gazed into a face which he had once before seen in the

JOSE.

course of his American journey, a face so replete with feminine loveliness, so expressive of sentimental and charming grace that he had not been able to banish it from his memory for a week. He had sat opposite this face at a concert in Boston and expressed his admiration, without being able to obtain any further information concerning it from any of his newly-acquired friends. In a state of mental perturbation, such as he had never before experienced, he now took her hand, placed it upon his arm, and proceeded in the direction she had indicated, without being able to account to himself how it all happened.

“You are not an American, sir. I have seen you somewhere and was told you were not,” she began, when they had passed the hotel. “You appeared to me like a beacon in the hour of distress, here, where I dare not confide in any one. I will explain in a few words.”

At this moment a long, shrill whistle sounded in the distance, and she suddenly paused and stood motionless, as if struck by an electric shock.

“ Merciful heavens, that is the train, and I hoped it would not arrive before dusk! Oh, sir,” she continued, seizing his arm in a nervous way ; “ do not desert me now. I must confront the enemy or I shall be lost. Call yourself my brother. My name is Mary. What is your name, sir? your name!” she added, in a state of excitement which threatened to communicate itself to the young man.

“ My name is Henry Baumann, madam ; but I beg you to be calm lest you betray yourself. Tell me in brief what you expect me to do, for I see the smoke of the locomotive.”

“Nothing, sir, except that you represent yourself josk to be my brother, and that we are on our way to St. Louis. 1 have accompanied you to this point from Vicksburg, and you have had business here.”

He simply nodded his assent, and was about to clasp her arm more firmly in his, when, casting a quick glance over the deserted surroundings, she suddenly snached her bonnet from her head, tore off the vail, and cast the first into a corn-field adjacent to the road, tying the latter around her face and hair.

“I shall be less likely to be recognized thus,” she said, returning to his side; “and now away!”

The long-expected train was just steaming up to the hotel, which was discharging a dense group of curiosity-seekers, who surrounded the engineer and conductor to learn the cause of the delay.

The young lady at Baumann’s side walked firmly and quickly toward one of the coaches and entered, but the young man could distinctly feel her arm tremble in his. Without looking to either side, she preceded him to a vacant seat, and as she turned her head to look at him he almost started at the ghostly pallor of her face and the singular expression of terror in her eyes.

“ The train will no doubt stop here a few minutes ; “go quickly and secure tickets to evade suspicion,” she said, hastily, and in a compressed voice; “ I hope to escape unobserved, while you are gone.”

She drew the vail down over her face and cowered into a corner of the seat, while Baumann hastened to add another ticket to his own, feeling as if it were all a dream.

The group of idlers was still gathered at the side of the locomotive, evidently listening with considerable interest to the recital of some one in their

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midst. The young man, however, cast scarcely a glance in that direction, and quickly returned to his companion in the car.

“I have the tickets,” he said, seating himself by the side of his protegee \ and immediately after the conductor exclaimed :

“All aboard!”

The girl half started to her feet as if stung by an adder. Then she drew the folds of her vail more closely about her face and reclined her head upon her hand, with a simulated air of weariness.

Baumann felt that the expected moment of danger was at hand ; he also saw that she could not long remain in her present position without betraying the strained character of the same.

“Trust me implicitly,” he whispered.

She made no reply, but he saw the slight tremor of her graceful and delicate form, and experienced a strange nervous sensation himself.

The locomotive began to gather speed, and at this juncture the conductor entered the car.

He cast a glance over the passengers, and his gaze fastened upon the new arrivals. He seemed to study every detail of their appearance, and then passed out at the opposite door.

This action warned Baumann to be prepared for future developments, and for the first time he began to reflect upon his own peculiar situation, which he could neither estimate nor weigh in any direction, since he had no idea why the lady at his side apprehended pursuit and no means of knowing into what a predicament his ready assent to her plans might precipitate him. But coupled with this reflection was the image of her face, those features that seemed to mirror forth every sentiment of her soul,

JOSK which had impressed him so permanently the first brief glimpse he had of them in Boston ; and he felt almost ashamed of his momentary attack of weakness.

His thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of a tall, broad-shouldered planter, who passed through the car, evidently for the avowed purpose of subjecting the passengers from Dixon’s to an impertinent scrutiny. Baumann raised his head as soon as he observed it, and met the planter’s gaze with a cold look, which, however, did not seem to disconcert the other, who leisurely continued his walk through the car, and on his return alternately bent down to one and then the other of the passengers, exchanging a few whispered words here and there, until soon the young man saw himself and his companion the involuntary target of furtive looks from all directions.

Despite her vail, his neighbor seemed to have taken in every stage of the proceedings, for she slowly raised in her seat and half unvailed her face.

“I fear that all my precautions and my disguise will only serve to make matters worse for you,” she said, just loud enough to be heard by her companion above the clatter of the train.

Baumann, observing the painful expression of alarm that had settled upon her face as she uttered these words, suddenly felt himself equal, to any emergency that might arise, to defend her.

“ Compose yourself . Am I not your brother?” he said, eagerly, stretching out his hand toward her; ‘‘and who will question this assertion?”

She cast a quick glance at the door by which the conductor was just entering, and then seized Baumann’s hand with a pressure that went straight to

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his heart. Dropping the vail again over her face, she leaned back in the corner of the seat.

“Tickets, sir!” cried the conductor, approaching the seat.

Baumann negligently drew forth his billets. The official examined them and thrust them into his pocket, without, however, taking his eye from the two passengers.

“Anything else, sir?” asked Baumann, in a loud voice, and looking up with a frown. “It seems that my sister and I are classed among the curiosities of the country, or is it customary to treat all strangers in this manner?”

Every eye in the car turned toward the speaker, who had purposely raised his voice in order to be heard, and for a moment the conductor hesitated. Then he bent his head forward toward the young man, and with a peculiar smile, said :

“You will pardon a question which circumstances warrant me in asking. According to your tickets, you and this lady came from Dixon’s. Did you have any baggage checked there?”

“Certainly,” said Baumann, producing two baggage checks ; “ one trunk and a valise ; but why do you ask?”

The conductor examined the checks, and then returned them.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said; “there must be a mistake in the persons, doubtless owing to your beard, which is uncommon, and especially the lady’s gray dress.”

As if still unable to dismiss the illusion, he subjected the couple to another critical inspection, and then passed through the car, replying to a number

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of interrogative looks of the remaining passengers with a shake of the head.

“ I regard this manner of treating strangers most impertinent!” said Baumann, addressing the occupant of a seat near by, in the hope of receiving an explanation of the mystery surrounding the adventure ; but the stranger made no reply. He saw the passengers thrust their heads together and whisper one to another, and Baumann concluded to await developments, which he knew must surely reach their climax upon their arrival at Vicksburg.

The lady sat motionless, with her head reclining in the corner of the seat, feigning sleep. He felt in no humor to exact liberties not positively warranted by circumstances, and leaning his head upon his hand, abandoned himself to the emotions which the incidents of his strange adventure had excited. Once during the hour consumed by the journey to Vicksburg, his companion asked for water. A soft flush suffused her face as she raised her vail, and Baumann saw a smile that would have repaid him a hundred-fold, but for a touch of sadness in her face which almost seemed like a new mystery.

At last the train pulled into the depot, the passengers stepped off, and the couple reached the platform unmolested, in the midst of the crowd. A shudder seemed to pass over the young lady’s frame, and Baumann felt her hand fasten upon his arm. He paused.

“Shall I call a carriage?” he asked, alarmed at her condition.

“Not here! Let us hasten away from the depot before we attract attention,” she urged, and the young man followed the tide of foot-passengers gravitating in the direction of the city, clasping

JOSK her arm firmly in his to support her steps, but she soon released it from his pressure.

“It was a mere weakness,” she said, in a low tone; “all the excitement of the ride seemed to react upon my nerves at once, but I am strong now !”

“Will you indicate some place to which you desire me to conduct you?” he said, having now reached the business portion of the city. “ Going South, I was in Vicksburg a few hours only, and know very little of it.

She remained silent, as if undecided what to say.

“ I do not know whether I have the right to presume any longer upon your assistance, as I have doubtless alr^^ady caused you to neglect your affairs,” she said, slowly; “I expect friends to meet me here ; until I find them I shall be alone, and possibly be again exposed to the suspicion which your presence alone averted.”

“ I am happy to offer you my assistance as long as you please to claim it,” Baumann quickly interrupted ; “ I only asked to learn your wishes. Dispose of me as you would of your real brother.”

“I thank you, sir,” she said, and Baumann half fancied feeling her hand close upon his arm with a slight pressure. “ Let us go to the leading hotel in the city, where I shall be most likely to find my friends.”

Baumann spoke to the first well-dressed pedestrian, and received the desired directions. They reached the hotel after a short walk, where he registered as “H. Baumann and sister,” and then conducted her to the door of her room.

“You’ll look after the baggage and return soon,

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Henry?” she said, offering him her hand with a blush.

This bit of comedy was enacted for the benefit of the colored chambermaid who had followed them; yet it required great presence of mind for the young jnan to husband his mental faculties under the influence of her tenderly confiding voice. Baumann ran down stairs and left the hotel without knowing what he was doing, for in his soul there was mirrored this strange girTs image, as he stood for a moment holding her hand under the irresistible impulse of his emotions, her cheeks flushed and her eyes cast down in faint embarrassment, such as he himself had felt. He would fain have closed his eyes, to let the whole scene pass again in review before his mind ; but just before him was the depot, and not until now it occurred to him that he could as well have sent the porter for his baggage. But having gone thus far, he hired a man to carry his effects to the hotel, and then started to return. Unconsciously, Baumann struck a pace on his way to the hotel that fairly made his companion cough with exertion, for he felt that he was at last approaching the solution of his mysterious adventure.