Part 28 (2/2)
A LOST REGIMENT
IT was a bright, suns.h.i.+ny day in early spring. Birds were sweetly singing in the trees lining the road I was travelling, the gra.s.s on either side was softly green, and beautified by countless wild-flowers blooming in great variety of coloring. Nothing seemed to speak of war, although I was amid the very heart of its desolation, save the deserted houses I was continually pa.s.sing, and the fenceless, untilled fields. I must have shown my late illness greatly, for the few I met, as I tramped slowly onward, mostly soldiers, gazed at me curiously, as if they mistook me for the ghost of some dead comrade; and I doubt not my pale face, yet bearing the deep imprint of pain, with the long untrimmed hair framing it, and the blood-stained, ragged uniform, the same I wore that fierce day of battle, rendered me an object of wonder.
All through those long, weary winter weeks I had been hovering between life and death in an obscure hospital at Richmond. How I first came there I know not, but when at length I struggled back to recollection and life, there I found myself, and there I remained, slowly convalescing, a prisoner to weakness, until finally discharged but two days before. During those months little that related to the progress of the war reached me. My nurses were black-robed nuns, kind-hearted and tender of touch, but feeling slight interest in affairs of the world without. I saw no old-time familiar faces, while the few wounded about me were fully as ignorant of pa.s.sing events as myself. The moment the door was opened to permit of my pa.s.sing forth into the world again, I sought eagerly to discover the present station of my old comrades in arms, yet could learn only that the cavalry brigade with which I had formerly served was in camp somewhere near Appomattox Court House. On foot and moneyless, I set off alone, my sole anxiety to be once more with friends; and now, at the beginning of the second day, I was already beyond Petersburg, and st.u.r.dily pus.h.i.+ng westward.
A battery of light artillery was parked in a field upon my right, but so far away from the road that I hesitated to travel that distance simply to ask a question which it was extremely doubtful if they would be able to answer. Instead I pushed on grimly, and as the road swerved slightly to the left, pa.s.sing through a grove of handsome trees, I came suddenly opposite a large house of imposing aspect. A group of Confederate officers stood in converse beside the gate leading into the open driveway, and as I paused a moment, gazing at them and wondering whom I had better address,--for I recognized none of the faces fronting me,--one among the group turned suddenly, and took a hurried step in my direction, as though despatched upon an errand of importance. He was a tall, slender man, wearing a long gray moustache, and I no sooner viewed his face than I recognized him as having been one of those officers present in General Lee's tent the day I was sent out with despatches. He glanced at me curiously, yet with no sign of recognition, but before he could pa.s.s I accosted him.
”Colonel Maitland,” I said, ”you doubtless remember me. I am seeking my old command; would you kindly inform me where it may be found?”
He stopped instantly at sound of my voice, and stared at me in odd bewilderment; but my words had already reached the ears of the others, and before he had found an answer another voice spoke sternly: ”What is all this? Who are you, sir? What masquerade puts you into that parody of a captain's uniform?”
I turned and looked into the flushed, indignant face of General Lee.
”It is no masquerade, sir,” I answered, instantly removing my hat; ”it is the rightful uniform of my rank, greatly as I regret its present condition.”
He gazed at me keenly, evidently doubtful as to his best course of action, and I heard an officer behind him laugh.
”Where are you from?”
”I was discharged from St. Mary's Hospital in Richmond day before yesterday, and am now seeking to rejoin my regiment.”
I almost imagined I was looked upon as a soldier crazed by his sufferings; I heard a whisper, ”Out of his head,” yet as I gazed earnestly into those stern gray eyes which fronted me, they suddenly grew moist.
”Surely,” he said gravely, ”I have seen your face before. To what regiment were you attached?”
”The ----th Virginia Cavalry.”
The buzzing of voices about me instantly ceased, and General Lee took a step nearer.
”The ----th Virginia? You were a captain? Surely this is not Philip Wayne?”
So deeply surprised was his tone, so uncertain his recognition, I scarcely knew what to answer. Had I lost my very ident.i.ty? was this all a dream?
”I am Captain Wayne, Troop D, ----th Virginia.”
He grasped my hand warmly between both his own, and his kindly face lit up instantly with a rare smile.
”Captain Wayne, I cannot tell you how greatly I rejoice at your safe return. We certainly owe you an apology for this poor reception, but you were reported as killed in action many months ago. I doubt not Colonel Maitland truly believed he looked upon a ghost when you first accosted him.”
For the moment I was unable to speak, so deeply did his words affect me.
”I fear, Captain Wayne,” he continued gravely, yet retaining my hand within his own, ”that I must bring you sad news.”
”Sad news?” Instantly there came to me the thought of my widowed mother. ”Not from home, I trust, sir?”
”No,” with great tenderness, ”your mother, I believe, remains well; yet the words I must speak are nevertheless sad ones, and must prove a severe shock to you. There is no ----th Virginia.”
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