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Updated: June 20, 2025
This, then, was the den, the arena in which was to take place a memorable interview. But the thought of waiting an hour for the dragon to appear was disquieting. So he asked Mr. Richter, who was dusting off a chair, to direct him to the nearest bank. "Why, certainly," said he; "Mr. Brinsmade's bank on Chestnut Street." He took Stephen to the window and pointed across the square.
The music in the cabin came to an abrupt pause, and only the tumbling of waters through the planks of the great wheels broke the silence. They were both startled by laughter at their shoulders. There stood Miss Russell, the picture of merriment, her arm locked in Anne Brinsmade's. "It is the hour when all devout worshippers turn towards the East," she said.
You may remember talking to him one evening at my house." "He's one of my boys!" cried the General. "Remember him? Guess I do!" He paused on the very brink of relating again the incident at Camp Jackson, when Stephen had saved the life of Mr. Brinsmade's own son. "Brinsmade, for three days I've had it on my mind to send for that boy. I'll have him at headquarters now.
Henceforth this house would be shut to him, and all others save Mr. Brinsmade's. Presently, in one of the intervals of Miss Russell's feverish talk, he rose to go. Dusk was gathering, and a deep and ominous silence penetrated like the shadows into the tall room. No words came to him. Impulsively, almost tearfully, Puss put her hand in his.
"She's not long sighted, that's sure," replied Eliphalet, with emphasis. At dinner Stephen was tried still further. And it was then he made the determination to write for the newspapers in order to pay the rent on Mr. Brinsmade's house. Miss Carvel's coming-out party was the chief topic. "They do say the Colonel is to spend a sight of money on that ball," said Mrs. Abner Reed.
Foreigners of distinction fell in love with the place, with its open-hearted master and mistress, and wrote of it in their journals. Would that many of our countrymen, who think of the West as rough, might have known the quality of the Brinsmades and their neighbors! An era of charity, of golden simplicity, was passing on that October night of Anne Brinsmade's ball.
In 1835 General Atkinson and his officers thought nothing of the twenty miles from Jefferson Barracks below, nor of dancing all night with the Louisville belles, who were Mrs. Brinsmade's guests. Thither came Miss Todd of Kentucky, long before she thought of taking for a husband that rude man of the people, Abraham Lincoln.
"Stephen, do you remember that fearful afternoon of the panic, when you came over from Anne Brinsmade's to reassure me?" "Yes, dear," he said. "But what made you think of it now?" She did not answer him directly. "I believed what you said, Stephen. But you were so strong, so calm, so sure of yourself. I think that made me angry when I thought how ridiculous I must have been." He pressed her hand.
How the threads of his life ran next to hers, and crossed and recrossed them. The slave auction, her dance with him, the Fair, the meeting at Mr. Brinsmade's gate, she knew them all. Her love and admiration for his mother. Her dreams of him for she did dream of him. And now he had saved Clarence's life that she might marry her cousin. Was it true that she would marry Clarence?
Her own mind was wandering when it should not, and recollections she had tried to strangle had sprung up once more. Only that morning in church she had lived over again the scene by Mr. Brinsmade's gate, and it was then that a wayward but resistless impulse to go to the Judge's office had seized her. The thought of the old man lonely and bitter in his room decided her.
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