CHAPTER XXII

  “When we see the dishonor of a thing, then it is time to
  renounce it.”

  Plutarch

A letter which Sallie wrote to Jim a few weeks after his departure tells its own story, and hence shall be repeated here.

* * * * *

Philadelphia, October 29, 1863.

Dear Jim:—­

I take my pen in hand this morning to write you a letter, and to tell you the news, though I don’t know much of the last except about Frankie and myself.  However, I suppose you will care more to hear that than any other, so I will begin.

Maybe you will be surprised to hear that Frankie and I are at Mr. Ercildoune’s.  Well, we are,—­and I will tell you how it came about.  Not long after you went away, Frank began to pine, and look droopy.  There wasn’t any use in giving him medicine, for it didn’t do him a bit of good.  He couldn’t eat, and he didn’t sleep, and I was at my wits’ ends to know what to do for him.

One day Mrs. Lee,—­that Mr. Ercildoune’s housekeeper,—­an old English lady she is, and she’s lived with him ever since he was married, and before he came here,—­a real lady, too,—­came in with some sewing, some fine shirts for Mr. Robert Ercildoune.  I asked after him, and you’ll be glad to know that he’s recovering.  He didn’t have to lose his leg, as they feared; and his arm is healing; and the wound in his breast getting well.  Mrs. Lee says she’s very sorry the stump isn’t longer, so that he could wear a Palmer arm,—­but she’s got no complaints to make; they’re only too glad and thankful to have him living at all, after such a dreadful time.

While I was talking with her, Frankie called me from the next room, and began to cry.  You wouldn’t have known him,—­he cried at everything, and was so fretful and cross I could scarcely get along at all.  When I got him quiet, and came back, Mrs. Lee says, “What’s the matter with Frank?” so I told her I didn’t know,—­but would she see him?  Well, she saw him, and shook her head in a bad sort of way that scared me awfully, and I suppose she saw I was frightened, for she said, “All he wants is plenty of fresh air, and good, wholesome country food and exercise.”  I can tell you, spite of that, she went away, leaving me with heavy enough a heart.

The next day Mr. Ercildoune came in.  How he is changed!  I haven’t seen him before since Mrs. Surrey died, and that of itself was enough to kill him, without this dreadful time about Mr. Robert.

“Good morning, Miss Sallie,” says he, “how are you? and I’m glad to see you looking so well.”  So I told him I was well, and then he asked for Frankie.  “Mrs. Lee tells me,” he said, “that your little brother is quite ill, and that he needs country air and exercise.  He can have them both at The Oaks; so if you’ll get him ready, the carriage will come for you at whatever time you appoint.  Mrs. Lee can find you plenty