After a few kind inquiries in regard to the invalid's condition, the general took from his pocket one of those great official envelopes which so often carry joy to the heart of the gallant officer. Somers was amazed. It could not be possible that his own promotion was indicated by this document. It was not three weeks since his commission as captain had reached him; but then Senator Guilford was a great man, and wielded a tremendous influence, both at Washington, and with the military authorities of his native State.
Recalling his former declaration to Captain de Banyan, he was fully resolved to decline any further promotion, at least until he had done something which entitled him to this distinction. The general held up the formidable packet, while Somers's pale face was suffused with blushes.
"I have brought you a major's commission, Somers; and I know it will give you joy."
"Really, sir; ah! general, I don't think----"
"Don't you?" laughed the general.
"I don't deserve it, general; and you will pardon me if I say I cannot accept it. I am very grateful to you; but----"
"Oh, it isn't for you!" roared the general as he handed him the official paper.
"Major de Banyan!" exclaimed Captain Somers as he read the superscription with a thrill of delight. "It is indeed a joy to me. I am ten times as happy as I should have been if my own name had been coupled with that title. I am ever so much obliged to you."
"Senator Guilford again! By the way, Captain Somers, you must call on him when you get to Washington."
"I shall certainly do so. But I know my friend could not have been promoted without the good word which you have spoken for him."
"Well, it is all right, captain. Major de Banyan is a brave fellow. He has done you a good turn; and I waylaid this document so as to afford you the pleasure of being the first to address him by his new title."
"Thank you, general."
"And, captain, if you could prevail on the major to be a little more reasonable in some of the lies he tells, his reputation for veracity would be improved."
"I will endeavor to do so."
The general bade the invalid a hearty and even affectionate adieu; and they did not meet again till they grasped hands on the bloody field of Antietam, where Somers acted in a new sphere of duty. No sooner had the general departed, than Somers, inspired to new vigor by the joyful event which had just transpired, hastened to the camp of the regiment.
"Ah, Somers; my dear boy! how are you now?" said his friend as he seized his hand.
"Better, I thank you, _Major_ de Banyan."
"Come, now, Somers, that is cruel! A friend of mine, just before the battle of Solferino----"
"Confound the battle of Solferino, Major de Banyan!"
"I was about to say that a friend of mine, just before the battle of Solferino, made fun of my aspirations, just as you do now----"
"I don't do anything of the sort. Here's the official document. If I read right, it says Major de Banyan."
"Somers," said the captain, winking very rapidly to dissipate some evidences of weakness which were struggling for existence in his eyes--"Somers, you have done this."
"I did write to Senator Guilford about you before we went over the river; and now I thank God with all my soul that I did so."
"Somers, you are one of the best of friends!" exclaimed the major as he stood with the unopened document in his hand.
"And so are you. Without you, I should have been in a rebel prison or under the sod at this time."
"God bless you, Somers!" ejaculated De Banyan, as with trembling hand he opened the envelope, and took therefrom his major's commission. "I have loved you just like a younger brother; not selfishly, my dear boy, but with my whole heart. You haven't disappointed me, only once, when----"
"Don't mention it. I thought you were a rebel then, but I repented."
"I don't blame you. Now, Somers, you are going home. May God bless you and keep you! I shall be as sad as a maiden who has lost her lover, while you are gone."
"I shall not be absent long. We shall be together again in a few weeks."
"I hope so. I have no home now. It has been desolated by treason. I heard since I came over that my wife was dead. I had a son, a boy of fifteen; I know not where he is. Well, well; I will not groan or complain. I will do my duty to my country, and that shall cheer my heart;" and with an effort of his powerful will, he banished the sad reflections from his mind, and smiled as though earth had no sorrows. "After the battle of Magenta, I had the blues, and----"
"One word, De Banyan. _Were_ you at the battle of Magenta?" said Somers solemnly.
The major looked on the ground, at the commission he had just received, and then into the sympathizing face of his friend.
"To tell the truth, Somers, I was not; but I fought in every battle in Mexico, from Vera Cruz up to the capital."
Somers improved this opportunity to repeat the injunction of the general.
"Now promise me, major, that you will never say Magenta or anything of the sort again as long as you live," added Somers.
"That would be a rash promise. I have got a bad habit, and I will try to cure myself of it. On my soul I will, my dear boy!"
In the course of the conversation the major, who was now in a truth-telling mood, informed Somers that he had, after his escape from the rebel army, enlisted in the regular army, where he had been made a sergeant, and, through the influence of a Massachusetts officer, had been commissioned as a captain. His gallantry had won a swift reward.
On the following day they parted on board the transport in the river; and in that sad hour the friendship which, though brief in duration, had been fruitful enough for a lifetime, was pledged for the future. They parted, De Banyan to mingle in the terrible scenes in which the regiment was engaged before the close of the month, and Somers to bask in the smiles of the loved ones at home. Alick, who had been regularly installed as the captain's servant, went with him.
CHAPTER XXXI
WASHINGTON, BOSTON AND PINCHBROOK
Though the session of Congress had closed a month before, Captain Somers was gratified to learn on his arrival that Senator Guilford and his family were still in Washington, the distinguished gentleman having been detained by important public business. As soon as he could make himself presentable, he hastened to pay his respects to the Senator, and thank him for his kindness. He was not at home. Emma received him with a warm blush of pleasure on her fair cheeks. She had entirely recovered from the effects of the accident; and her tribute of gratitude was so eloquently poured forth, that the gallant young captain, who had hardly seen a young lady before for two months, could not exactly tell whether he stood on his head or his heels; for praise from those beautiful lips produced a sensation of giddiness in the region of the brain.
Young men will be silly in spite of all we dignified old fogies can say to convince them of the folly of being carried away by the witching arts of pretty, graceful little creatures like Emma Guilford. Perhaps the remembrance of the scene on the railroad was some excuse for him; and it is entirely unnecessary to apologize for anything a beautiful girl may do, especially if she be the daughter of a Senator. The young lady said a great many pretty things, and the young gentleman a great many smart ones, before she discovered that the captain was wounded in the arm, though she had already remarked upon his pale face and rather attenuated form.
He told her when and where he was wounded; and of course she wanted to know all about his adventures in Secessia. He was as willing as Othello to speak
"Of most disastrous chances, Of moving accidents, by flood and field; Of hairbreadth scapes i' the imminent deadly breach; Of being taken by the insolent foe."
All this to hear did Emma Guilford seriously incline. But he had hardly commenced the story before the Senator himself entered the room.
"Ah! Captain Somers, I am delighted to see you!" said he with enthusiasm, as he extended his hand, which our hero as warmly grasped.
"Thank you, sir. I have called to express my obligations to you for all your kindness to me and to my friend. Major de Banyan wished to be kindly remembered to you."
"I am happy to hear from the major; and as for the rest, I feel that I have not yet begun to discharge my obligation to you. Why didn't you write to me before?"