CALM THY FEARS

Ida had endured a number of hard blows, but this was one of the worst. She closed her eyes, feeling a lurch from the child under her skirt. After a moment she said softly, “Is he in?”

“Oh, no, I suppose he’s at the theayter. Minute he checked in, he was off. Keeps going back.”

Disconcerted, Ida said, “Which theater?” Surely there was some mistake.

“Holliday Street, I guess.” Then the proprietor looked past Ida and his face broke into a huge grin. “Well, here’s the lady in person. I bet she can tell you.”

“I can tell her what?” Seth’s lady friend was a tall, buxom woman in a towering bonnet. She leaned her bulk against the desk, reached up her gloved hand and cupped Ida’s chin. “Such a sweet face.”

“This here’s Seth’s Morgan’s wife,” said the proprietor gleefully. “She’s come looking for her hubby. And this, missus, is our fair queen of the dramatical arts, Miss Lily LeBeau.”

Ida did not know what to say or where to look. But Lily LeBeau cried out at once in horror, “I didn’t know the damn fool had a wife.” She put her arm around Ida. “My dear, I swear on the Bible, he didn’t tell me he was married. Oh, what a beast.”

They were a mismatched pair. Ida was pale and demure, Lily rosy as a sunrise. Imperiously she led Ida to one of the sofas and made her sit down. Then she settled beside her, nestling close, pushing to one side the springs inside her massive skirt. “My dear child, you should be at home. When is it to be, the blessed event?”

In spite of everything—in spite of her headlong journey to Gettysburg, in spite of the terrible things she had seen in the town and in the Bushman barn, in spite of her search among the windows of dead soldiers and her grisly glimpse of the embalming surgeon’s tent and in spite of the painful news that her dear Seth was now a deserter—Ida’s stern resolve melted before the kindly concern of the woman who had taken her place in her husband’s affections.

To Lily she whispered, “In two months. But really, I feel just fine.” Then Ida lifted appealing hands. “Please, oh, please. I’ve got to see him.”

“Well, of course you’ve got to see him.” Lily reached up to tuck a strand of hair back under Ida’s bonnet. “Now, my sweet thing, you just comfort yourself. Lily will take care of everything.” Her skirt boiled up as she leaned closer. “That mean old Seth of yours, he appeared at the door of the theater, Holliday Street—well, I must say as shouldn’t, it’s the best in Baltimore—and asked for Lily LeBeau. It was just only last week. Well, to me he was a perfect stranger, but, my dear, how that man of yours can talk. Of course if I’d known he was married! But he never let on.” Lily put a tragic hand on her bosom. “But there!” She brightened. “Right now we’re playing in The Marble Heart. You know it, don’t you, honey?”

Miserably Ida nodded that she did.

“I’ve just got a little part. I’m only a slave girl, but I get to sing.” Lily cocked up her face and trilled, “Love on, love on, calm thy fears! Time will bring happier hours!” She stopped and grinned at Ida as the proprietor guffawed.

Then Lily gave Ida a squeeze. “As it certainly will bring happier hours for you, my dear. Now where was I? Oh, yes, there he was in the theater, your husband, and he said he’d made a lot of improvements in the parts. And really, it was God’s truth, they were first-rate, so comical.” Lily’s chuckle was delicious. “And he expanded my part so it was really important. Well, naturally I liked that, so I took him to Jacko, and Jacko, he liked the changes, so, oh dear me”—Laura groaned and rolled her eyes—”now there’s all these more rehearsals. Of course we don’t know what his nibs will think, but he’s way up in Boston, so who cares? Anyway, Seth’s worked himself into the company well enough, fast too, I’ll say that for him, giving credit where credit is due.”

“Thank you,” murmured Ida, trying to take it all in.

Lily slapped her knee, and her springy skirt bounced. “Tell you what we’ll do. I’ve got to be in the theater for a spell, but you can lay down in my room for a couple of hours—that’s all the longer I’ll be. And then, I swear, I’ll take you to the theater and you can look that naughty man straight in the face.”

Lily stood up and led the way, billowing toward the staircase. “This way, dear. Can you still climb stairs? My off cousin, she got so big, she just laid there on the bed in the front room.”

“Was her baby all right?”

“Oh dear, no. The poor thing got so big, it wouldn’t come out. How she took on!”

“But what happened?”

“They were both taken. It was sad.”