Part 48 (2/2)
Her soft voice interested Deck, and he came as close as possible under the window to see her fully. As he gazed at her he gave a start. Where had he seen that face before? Somewhere, he was positive of it--but where?
”Rosebel, get back,” ordered the elderly lady, and tried to crowd the maiden from the window, but she would not budge.
”Aunt Clarissa, remember, Paul is in the army,” she said. ”I know I did not want him to join, but if he was wounded and among strangers--” She did not finish, excepting with a long sigh.
Deck could hear her words plainly, and at the mentioning of the name, Paul, his heart gave a bound, then sank like a lump of lead in his bosom. He had found the missing sister of the young Confederate captain who lay in that cold trench many miles away, with a stick for a headstone, upon which was inscribed:--
ROSEBEL'S PAUL LIES BURIED HERE.
”Your name is Rosebel?” he said; and his voice was as soft as when he had spoken to Kate Belthorpe in his most sentimental mood.
”Yes.”
”And your brother Paul was a captain in the Confederate service?”
”Yes.” And now the young lady's eyes began to fill with wonder.
”You lived in Chattanooga with your brother, and you--you had a difference of opinion about his joining the army?”
”We did have--and I am sorry for it,” answered the maiden. ”But who are you to speak thus to me? Do you know my brother?”
”Rosebel, do not be hasty in talking to this young man,” interposed the aunt.
”I did know your brother, Miss Rosebel. I do not know your other name.”
”And yet you knew my brother!”
”He must be telling falseho--” began the aunt, but the girl's hand over her mouth checked her.
”I fell in with a young Confederate captain whose name was Paul,”
explained Deck, sadly. ”He said he had a sister Rosebel living in Chattanooga. He had quarrelled with that sister, and in anger had hidden some money away so that she could not get it.”
”It was Paul!” cried Rosebel Greene, for such was her full name. ”Oh, tell me about him, and how he came to tell you this. Is he well?”
The young major looked at her, then turned his face away.
”I am very sorry for you, Miss Rosebel, very sorry. He fought as only a true soldier can fight--to the end.”
”He is dead!” came with a moan. ”Paul is dead, Aunt Clarissa! Oh, what shall I do now?” And the girl sank into the elderly lady's arms.
It was a trying moment for Deck, especially so as he could do nothing, in his present position, to aid the young lady. He waited and saw both females leave the window. A minute after the front door was opened by the elderly lady, and he was asked to enter.
”I hope you are not fooling my niece,” she said. ”What is your name?”
”A man would not be human to fool upon such a heartrending subject,”
answered Deck. ”I am Major Dexter Lyon, of the Kentucky cavalry. May I ask that young lady's name?”
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