Part 76 (2/2)

THE MOONLIT RIVER

Betty Winter was quick to answer the hurry call for more nurses in the field hospital at Chancellorsville. The results at the end of three days' carnage had paralyzed the service.

She left the Carver Hospital on receipt of the first cry for help and hurried to her home to complete her preparations to leave for the front.

Her father was at breakfast alone.

She called her greeting from the hall, rushed to her room, packed a bag, and quickly came down.

She slipped her arm around his neck, bent and kissed him good-bye. He held her a moment:

”You must leave so early, dear?”

”I must catch the first bout for Aquia. The news from the front is hideous. The force there is utterly inadequate. They've asked for every nurse that can be spared for a week. The wounded lay on the ground for three days and nights, and hundreds of them can't be moved to Was.h.i.+ngton. The woods took fire dozens of times and many of the poor boys were terribly burned. The suffering, they say, is indescribable.”

The old man suddenly rose, with a fierce light flas.h.i.+ng in his eyes:

”Oh, the miserable blunderer in the White House--this war has been one grim and awful succession of his mistakes!”

Betty placed her hand on his arm in tender protest:

”Father, dear, how can you be so unreasonable--so insanely unjust? Your hatred of the President is a positive mania----”

”I'm not alone in my affliction, child; Arnold is his only friend in Congress to-day----”

”Then it's a shame--a disgrace to the Nation. Every disaster is laid at his door. In his big heart he is carrying the burden of millions--their suffering, their sorrows, their despair. You blamed him at first for trifling with the war. Now you blame him for the b.l.o.o.d.y results when the army really fights. You ask for an effective campaign and when you get these tragic battles you heap on his head greater curses. It isn't right. It isn't fair. I can't understand how a man with your deep sense of justice can be so cruelly inconsistent----”

The Senator shook his grey head in protest:

”There! there! dear--we won't discuss it. You're a woman and you can't understand my point of view. We'll just agree to disagree. You like the man in the White House. G.o.d knows he's lonely--I shouldn't begrudge him that little consolation. His whole att.i.tude in this war is loathsome to me. To him the Southerners are erring brethren to be brought back as prodigal sons in the end. To me they are criminal outlaws to be hanged and quartered--their property confiscated, the foundations of their society destroyed, and every trace of their States blotted from the map----”

”Father!”

”Until we understand that such is the purpose of the war we can get nowhere--accomplish nothing. But there, dear--I didn't mean to say so much. There is always one thing about which there can be no dispute--I love my little girl----”

He slipped his arm about her tenderly again.

”I'm proud of the work you're doing for our soldiers. They tell me in the big hospital that you're an angel. I've always known it, but I'm glad other people are beginning to find it out. In all the horrors of this tragedy there's one ray of suns.h.i.+ne for me--the light that s.h.i.+nes from your eyes!”

He bent and kissed her again:

”Run now, and don't miss your boat.”

In the five swift days of tender service which followed, Betty Winter forgot her own heartache and loneliness in the pity, pathos, and horror of the scenes she witnessed--the drawn white faces--the charred flesh, the scream of pain from the young, the sigh of brave men, the last messages of love--the gasp and the solemn silences of eternity.

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