Part 37 (2/2)
”Mrs. Pierson, tell me frankly, do you wish that the bullet which so ign.o.bly tore my back had finished its work, so that the present summing up would have been avoided? It would not, however, have saved your daughter's heart, for she loved me before all that.”
The widow looked calmly into the face of the speaker as she answered tremulously: ”My daughter's happiness is my highest ambition. Not so much as to the comforts of this life as to the a.s.surances of the life to come. Wealth or honorable position socially have not been included in my aspirations for her. Congenial companions.h.i.+p and a true heart are the highest blessings of life I could wish.” Tears came into her eyes and she arose from the table to hide them.
”I am not going to let my dinner spoil at any rate!” exclaimed Mr. St.
Clair, with a composing laugh: ”This roast lamb is capital.”
”And you would like some coffee”; suggested Anna, appearing at her post, while Mrs. Pierson returned to her seat at the table.
”Now that is sensible. Let us appoint an hour for congratulations and proceed with present duties unmolested. George, my boy, replenish the stomach if you would restore the back. For my part I think this a most capital arrangement. With the old homestead, 'West Lawn' and 'Rosedale,'
which I shall be obliged to take into my possession, will yield us all what bread and b.u.t.ter we shall require--not as good as this perhaps, but it will do. By the way, I would like to know where Mrs. Belmont is.”
”Gone back to Rosedale!” suggested Mrs. St. Clair with emphasis.
”Not a bit of it! If she could indulge in such an unwomanly sneak as to fly from the presence of her daughter, she would never risk her neck down among the bullets that are whizzing so near her home. No--no!”
He rattled on as a merry accompaniment to the monotonous sounds of knife and fork; but the responses were few and subdued. A hush had fallen upon more than one heart in that little circle around the well-filled board, yet to none was it dark or gloomy. There were sunbeams streaming through bright golden tints lighting them up, but Ellen St. Clair did not raise her eyes. She loved Anna, but had not thought of her as the bride of her peerless brother. ”And what would Bertha say?” It was so unexpected!
So intent were they with their own thoughts that no notice had been given to the dark cloud that had suddenly risen up from the south, spreading itself over the sky, until a fearful gust of wind dashed against the windows and made all start to their feet in alarm.
”A regular southern hurricane,” remarked Mrs. St. Clair. ”See how those trees bend and what a shower of bright leaves are in the air.”
The rain dashed against the panes, while the gale blew the clouds at a rapid speed northward, stripping the branches of their gaudy dress and strewing the faded gra.s.s with a carpet of gay colors. George St. Clair watched it with mingled emotions. It was noonday, yet the darkness was oppressive. He saw the dense cloud sweep over the sun, leaving in its trail the hazy blue of an autumn sky. He listened to the fitful wail of the angry blast and thought of the tornado that was at that moment devastating the beautiful fields and groves of his sunny land, and the spirit of rebellion arose in his heart. ”What was the need of this noonday storm? Why must war rifle the land of its beauty and crimson the earth with the shed blood of thousands?”
[Ill.u.s.tration]
CHAPTER x.x.xV.
A PROUD SPIRIT BROKEN.
Only a week and Colonel Hamilton was ordered back to Was.h.i.+ngton. The right wing of the army was to swing round over West Virginia, to intercept, if possible, the progressive movements of General Lee's forces that were threatening a northern aggression; and every officer able for action was ordered to report at headquarters. Lillian would not remain behind. How could she fold her hands and wait? She must work; her mind must be employed or the dizzy whirl would overpower her. Besides, she had a mission, of which all others, unless it was her Aunt Cheevers, were ignorant. The plan of operation had been secretly marked out by herself, and she must go.
”I can never let that Mason and Dixon line divide us again,” was her closing remark after listening to a long list of reasons why she should remain in her comfortable surroundings amid friends and luxuries.
The fond husband could not refuse, and together they entered the National Capital, and were greeted cordially by sympathizers and army officials. As, however, we are not writing the history of the rebellion, but only narrating incidents gathered during its progress, we will not trace the march of Colonel Hamilton's corps, but will meet him again when the warm days return to deck the blood-stained land with beauty and breathe freshness once more into the trampled vegetation.
There had been skirmishes along the line of march, fightings, repulses and victories; and Lillian had not been permitted to fold her hands.
There were the sick to be attended to, and wounded to be dressed; while the 'cup of cold water' and the 'oil and wine' were needed everywhere: Whether friend or foe; Confederate or Unionist, it made no difference, in each she discovered a brother, and withheld no comfort or ministration in her power.
”You seem young to be in the army,” she said one day to a beardless youth who had been severely wounded by a sharpshooter and was placed under her care.
”Eighteen, ma'am,” was the laconic reply.
”Will you tell me your name?” she asked, while tenderly bathing the pale face and combing the rich brown hair from a full rounded forehead.
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