The Sun Maid: A Story of Fort Dearborn

by Evelyn Raymond

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  HEROES.

  The Sun Maid's gaze into her husband's face was a prolonged andquestioning one. Before it was withdrawn she had found her answer.

  There was still a silence between them, which she broke at last, andit touched him to see how pale she had become and yet how calm.

  "You are going, Gaspar?"

  "Yes, my love; I am going. Already I have pledged my word, as my armand my purse."

  "But, my dear, do you consider? We are growing old, even we, who havenever yet had time to realize it--till now. There are younger men,plenty of them. Your counsels at home----"

  "Would be empty words as compared to my example in the field. Theyoung of heart are never old. Besides, do you remember that once,against my stubborn will, you resisted for duty's sake? We have neverregretted it, not for a day. More than that, when our first-born cameto us, do you remember how we clasped his tiny hand and resolvedalways to lead it onward to the right? _Lead_ it, sweetheart. Wevowed never to say to him: 'Go!' to this or that high duty; butrather, still holding fast to him, say: 'Come.' There is such a wide,wide difference between the two."

  Then, indeed, again she trembled. The mother love shook her visiblyand a secret rejoicing died a sudden death.

  "'Come,' you say. But they are not here, in our own unhappy land.Gaspar in Europe, Winthrop in South America, and Hugh in Japan. Theyare better so."

  "Are they better there? You will be the first to say 'no' when thisshock passes. A telegram will summon each as easily as we could callthem from that other room--supposing that they, your sons, wait forthe call. But they'll not. I know them and trust them. They arealready on the railways and steamships that will bring them fastest;and it will truly be the 'Come with me!' that we elected, for we shallall march together."

  So they did; and it was the Sun Maid herself, standing proudly amongher daughters and daughters-in-law, yet more beautiful than any, whofastened the last glittering button over each manly breast and flickedaway an imaginary mote from the spotless uniforms. Then she stoodaside and let them go; two by two, "step," "step"--as if in echo tothe first sound which had greeted her own baby ear.

  But as they passed out of sight, transgressing military disciplineGaspar turned; and once more the black eyes and the blue read in eachother's depths the unfathomable love that filled them. Then he wasgone and the younger Gaspar's wife lifted to her own aching bosom theform that had sunk unconscious at her feet. For the too prescientheart of the Sun Maid had pierced the future and she knew what wouldbefall her.

  Yet before the gray shadow had quite left her face she rallied andagain smiled into the anxious countenances bending over her.

  "Now, my dears, how foolish I was and how wasteful of precious time!There is so much to be done for them and for ourselves. Gaspar'sbusiness must not suffer, nor Son's (as she always called her eldest),nor his brothers'. There are new hospitals to equip and nurses tosecure. Alas! there should be a Home made ready, even so soon, for thewidows and orphans of our soldiers. Let us organize into a regularband of workers; just ourselves, as systematically as your father hastrained us to believe is best. There are six of us, a little army ofsupplies and reinforcements. Though, Honoria, my daughter, shall Icount upon you?"

  "Surely, Mother darling, though not here. Thanks to the hospitalcourse you let me enjoy, I can follow my father and brothers to thefront. I am a trained nurse, you know, and some will need me there."

  The Sun Maid caught her breath with a little gasp. Then again shesmiled.

  "Of course, Honoria; if you wish it. It is only one more to give; yetyou will be in little danger and your father in so much the lessbecause of your presence. Now let us apportion the other duties andset about them."

  This was quickly done; and to the mother herself remained theassumption of all monetary affairs in her husband's private office intheir last new home; where, when they had removed to it, she hadinquired:

  "Why such a palace, Gaspar, for two plain, simple folk like you andme? It is big enough for a barrack, and those great empty 'blocks' onevery side remind me of our old days in Mercy's log cabin among thewoods."

  "I like it, dear. There will be room in this big house to entertainguests of every rank and station as they should be entertained inour dear city. These empty squares about us shall keep their oldtrees intact, but the grounds shall be beautified by the highestlandscape art, to which the full view of our grand lake will givecrowning charm. When we have done with it all we will give it to thelittle children for a perpetual playground. Even the proposed newenlargement of the city limits will hardly encroach upon us here."

  "But it will, Gaspar, it surely will! When I hark back, as Abel usedto say, I find Katasha's prophecies and my old dreams more thanfulfilled. But the end is not yet, nor soon."

  Now that her daughters were scattered to their various points ofusefulness and the Sun Maid was left alone with Hugh's one motherlesschild--another Kitty--the great house seemed more empty than ever; andits brave mistress resolved to people it with something moresubstantial and needy than memories. So she gathered about her a hostto whom the cruel war had brought distress of one form or another;while out among the trees of the park she erected a great barrack,fitted with every aid to comfort and convalescence. This, like themansion, was speedily filled, and the "Keith Rest" became a householdword throughout the land.

  The war which wise folk augured at its beginning, would be over in afew days dragged its weary length into the months, and though for atime there were many and cheerful letters, these ceased suddenly atthe last, giving place to one brief telegram from Honoria: "Mother, mywork here is ended. I am bringing home your heroes--four."

  Upon the hearth-rug, Kitty the younger, lay stretched at her ease,toying with the sharp nose of her favorite collie. She had the SunMaid's own fairness of tint and the same wonderful hair; but her eyeswere dark as her grandsire Gaspar's and saw many things which theyappeared not to see; for instance, that one of the numerous telegramsher busy grandmother was always receiving had been read and droppedupon the floor. Yet this was a common circumstance, and though shefelt it her duty to rise and return the yellow paper to the hand whichhad held it, she delayed a moment, enjoying the warmth and ease. ThenBruce, the collie, sat up and whined,--dolefully, and so humanly, itseemed, that the girl also sprang up, demanding:

  "Why, Bruce, old doggie, what do you hear? What makes you look soqueer?"

  Then her own gaze followed the collie's to her grandmother's face andher scream echoed through all the house.

  "Grandmother! My darling Grandmother! Are you--are youdead--dying--what----"

  She picked up the telegram and read it, and her own happy young heartfaltered in its rhythm.

  "Oh! awful! 'Bringing'--those precious ones who cannot come ofthemselves. This will kill her. I believe it will kill even me."

  But it did neither. After a space the rigidity left the Sun Maid'sfigure and her staring eyes that had been gazing upon vacancy resumedintelligence. Rising stiffly from her seat, she put the younger Kitaside, yet very gently and tenderly, because of all her race this wasthe dearest. Had not the child Gaspar's eyes?

  "My girl, you will know what to do. I am going to my chamber, and mustbe undisturbed."

  Then she passed out of the cheerful library into that "mother's room,"where her husband and her sons had gathered about her so often and sofondly and in which she had bestowed upon each her farewell andespecial blessing. As the portiere fell behind her it seemed to herthat already they came hurrying to greet her, and softly closing thedoor she shut herself in from all the world with them and her owngrief.

  For the first time in all her life the Sun Maid considered her ownself before another; and for hours she remained deaf to young Kitty'spleading:

  "Let me come in, Grandmother. Let me come in. I am as alone as you--itwas my father, too, as well as your son!"

  It was the dawn of another day before the door did open and themourner came out. Mourner? One could hardl
y call her that; for, thoughthe beautiful face was colorless and the eyes heavy with unshedtears, there was a rapt, exalted look upon it which awed thegrandchild into silence. Yet for the first time she was startled bythe thought:

  "We have lived together as if we were only elder and younger sister,for she has had the heart of a child. But now I see--she is, indeed,my grandmother--and she is growing old."

  "Let all things be done decently and in order when Gaspar and the boyscome home," was all the direction the Sun Maid gave, and it was wellfulfilled. Yet, because she could not bear to be far apart from them,she sat out the hours of watching in the little ante-room adjoiningthe great parlor where her heroes lay in state, while all Chicagogathered to do them reverence.

  There was none could touch her grief, not one. It was too deep. Itbenumbed even herself. Perhaps in all the land, during all thatdreadful time, there was no person so afflicted as she, who had lostfour at a blow. But she rose from her sorrow with that buoyant faithand hopefulness which nothing could for long depress.

  "There is unfinished work to do. Gaspar left it when he went away,knowing I would take it up for him if he could never do it forhimself. There is no time in life for unavailing sorrow. Come, Kitty,child. Others have their dead to bury, let us go forth and comfortthem."

  Obedient Kitty went, her thoughts full of wonder and admiration:

  "By massacre, famine, pestilence, and the sword! How has my dear 'SunMaid' been chastened, and how beautifully she has come through it all!She could not have been half so lovely as a girl, when Grandfather metand wooed her that morning on the prairie. I wonder have her trialsended? or are there more in store before she is made perfect? I cannotthink of anything still which could befall her, unless I die or herbeloved city come to ruin. Well, I'll walk with her, hand in hand, andif I live, I'll be as like her as I can."