Part 24 (1/2)
One who had not looked on the scenes in a hospital after a battle, has no idea of the soul-depressing sights that everywhere present themselves. So thought Anna who, after two days of restlessness and anxiety in Was.h.i.+ngton, at last obtained permission to go to Alexandria where she was most needed. While standing among the dead and dying, what wonder that her cheeks paled and her eyes were filled with tears of pity? It was where new accessions were almost continually being made of such as had not previously been able to be moved from the field-tents and private houses where they had been carried. The poor sufferers were brought in upon stretchers or blankets and laid on the floor, waiting for their wounds to be examined, or the stumps of amputated limbs to be redressed, and weather-beaten bodies to be made more comfortable generally; before being taken to the next ward, where nice clean beds were waiting them. Just before her a young man with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes was lying on a mattress where two men had placed him. One leg was gone, and a blood-stained bandage was about his forehead. How pale and wan he looked! His gaze was upon her, and his lips moved. In a moment she was beside him. ”Water,” was all she could make out. Here was work; why should she be looking for any other? She placed the cup to his lips and raised his head tenderly while he drank. A cup of cold water!
How sweet were the blessings that came in upon her soul as she gave it to him! ”Thank you,” and a feeble smile came to his lips.
”Will you take this basin and wash some of their hands and faces?” asked a cheery voice near her. ”I will get another. Poor fellows; they sadly need soap and water before clean clothing can be put on them.”
It was a kind, sympathizing face into which she looked while listening to the request, and although she hesitated to commence so strange a task, it was but for a moment. There was a world of thankfulness in the blue eyes that looked into hers as she took away the blood-stained bandage and smoothed back the dark locks from the brow while she bathed and cooled it with a soft, gentle hand.
”You are so kind,” he murmured at last; ”G.o.d bless you.”
”He does,” was the quiet answer, and the mild eyes closed, but not to sleep.
”Do you suffer much?” she asked as she laid the hand she had been was.h.i.+ng back on the heaving breast.
”Not much; yet I shall not live. My mother, O my mother!” A tear escaped from beneath the closed lids and dropped down upon the hard pillow. Anna saw it as she turned to leave and stopped to wipe it away. ”I will see you again,” she whispered and then pa.s.sed on.
A burly son of Erin was lying near with an arm missing and a foot thickly bandaged. With an encouraging smile from the nurse who was engaged in administering to one who might have been his brother, Anna bared her arms to the work.
”Shall I try to improve your appearance a little?” she asked, at the same time kneeling beside him.
”Holy Vargin bless ye, Miss,” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. ”It's not the likes of ye's who should be doin' it; but the Son of Mary will bless ye, Miss. Look yonder,” he continued, ”d'ye see that gray-back in the corner there?
He's a reb; ye's wont wash his face, sure?”
”Certainly we will,” replied Anna, who could not help smiling at the eagerness of her questioner. ”The Bible tells us to 'do good to them that despitefully use us.' I have no doubt his face needs was.h.i.+ng as much as your's, and should I not do it?”
”Faith and I'd put lots of soap in his eyes, and wash up instead of down, if I did it at all, at all.”
The girl sighed as she tugged away at the worn out boot that seemed unwilling to yield to her powers, but it came off at last, and with elevated nostrils she continued her labor of mercy. While thus engaged she looked occasionally towards the rebel coat in the corner; but it was not he for whom she had been anxiously searching, yet her heart did not fail to upbraid her for an apparent neglect. She had inquired as often as she thought judicious, but had learned nothing. ”Perhaps he will soon be brought in,” she thought, and her eyes turned searchingly upon every new-comer. Close by was one who had just finished his mortal sufferings, and beyond another so still that one might have thought him dead; but as Anna laid her hand upon his forehead he opened his eyes and looked at her.
The surgeons were busy with their work, and all day her hands were never idle. Three times had she received the last words of love from pallid lips for loved ones far away, and each time had promised to send their precious remembrances or tokens of undying affection from the lost whom they never in life would look upon again; and no wonder that at last she should return to her lodgings weary and sick at heart!
”I fear I have kept you waiting,” she said as she pa.s.sed her landlady in the hall; ”but I have been very busy.”
”I understand it; how worn-out you must be! Katy is in the kitchen keeping a cup of tea for you,” and with a thankful heart Anna proceeded thither followed by the lady.
”I hope you will pardon me,” she continued, ”but a soldier has been almost thrust upon me to-day, and I have been obliged to change your room. I was sure you would forgive me after you knew all. He is an officer whom the general did not like to take to the hospital, as it would not be very pleasant for him, being a prisoner from the Confederate army.”
”A Confederate?” queried Anna, with some agitation. ”Do you know his name?”
”Colonel St. Clair. Why, my dear girl, how strangely you look! Is he a friend of yours?”
”He is. Is he severely wounded?”
”Badly, I believe, yet I do not know how. Would you like to see him to-night?”
”No, unless he needs my services.”
”I think he was sleeping when I came down. The surgeon was here an hour ago, and his negro servant is with him now.”
”Then I will not disturb him. In the morning I will go.”