Elsie's Womanhood

by Martha Finley

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENTH.

  "In peace, love tunes the shepherd's reed; In war, he mounts the warrior's steed; In halls, in gay attire is seen; In hamlets, dances on the green; Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below and saints above; For love is heaven, and heaven is love." --SCOTT.

  "Escaped prisoners from Andersonville, eh?" queried the guard gatheringabout them.

  "Yes; and more than half-starved; especially my friend here, CaptainAllison of the----"

  But the sentence was left unfinished; for at that instant Harold reeled,and would have fallen but for the strong arm of another officer quicklyoutstretched to save him.

  They made a litter and carried him into camp, where restoratives wereimmediately applied.

  He soon recovered from his faintness, but was found to be totally unfitfor duty, and sent to the hospital at Washington, where he was placed in abed adjoining that of his brother Richard, and allowed to share with himin the attentions of Dr. King, Miss Lottie, and his own sister May.

  How they all wept over him--reduced almost to a skeleton, so wan, so weak,so aged, in those few short months.

  He recognized his brother and sister with a faint smile, a murmured wordor two, then sank into a state of semi-stupor, from which he roused onlywhen spoken to, relapsing into it again immediately.

  Slowly, very slowly, medical skill and tender, careful nursing told uponhis exhausted frame till at length he seemed to awake to new life, beganto notice what was going on about him, was able to take part in a cheerfulchat now and then, and became eager for news from home and of the progressof the war.

  Months had passed away. In the meantime Richard had returned to camp, andHarry Duncan, wounded in a late battle, now occupied his deserted bed inthe hospital.

  Harry was suffering, but in excellent spirits.

  "Cheer up, Allison," he said; "you and I will never go back toAndersonville; the war can't last much longer, and we may consider theUnion saved. Ah! this is a vast improvement upon Andersonville fare," headded gayly, as Lottie and May appeared before them, each bearing a traywith a delicious little lunch upon it. "Miss Lottie, I'm almost tempted tosay it pays to be ill or wounded, that one may be tended by fair ladies'hands."

  "Ah, that speech should have come from Mr. Allison, for May is fair andher hands are white, while mine are brown," she answered demurely, as sheset her tray within his reach, May doing the same for Harold.

  "None the less beautiful, Miss King," returned Duncan gallantly. "Many awhiter hand is not half so shapely or so useful. Now reward me for thatpretty compliment by coaxing your father to get me well as fast aspossible, that I may have a share in the taking of Richmond."

  "That would be a waste of breath, as he's doing all he can already; butI'll do my part with coddling, write all your letters for you--business,friendship, love--and do anything else desired; if in my power."

  "You're very good," he said, with a furtive glance at May, who seemed tosee or hear nothing but her brother, who was asking about the last newsfrom home; "very good indeed, Miss King; especially as regards thelove-letters. I presume it would not be necessary for me even to be at thetrouble of dictating them?"

  "Oh, no, certainly not!"

  "Joking aside, I shall be greatly obliged if you will write to AuntWealthy to-day for me."

  "With pleasure; especially as I can tell her your wound is not a dangerousone, and you will not lose a limb. But do tell me. What did you poorfellows get to eat at Andersonville?"

  "Well, one week's daily ration consisted of one pint of corn-meal groundup cob and all together, four ounces of mule meat, generally spoiled andemitting anything but an appetizing odor; but then we were not troubledwith want of--the best of sauce for our meals."

  "Hunger?"

  "Yes; we'd plenty of that always. In addition to the corn-meal and meat,we had a half pint of peas full of bugs."

  "Oh! you poor creatures! I hope it was a little better the alternateweek."

  "Just the same, except, in lieu of the corn-meal, we had three squareinches of corn bread."

  "Is it jest; or earnest?" asked Lottie, appealing to Harold.

  "Dead earnest, Miss King; and for medicine we had sumac and white-oakbark."

  "No matter what ailed you?"

  "Oh, yes; that made no difference."

  To Harry's impatience the winter wore slowly away while he was confinedwithin the hospital walls; yet the daily, almost hourly sight of MayAllison's sweet face, and the sound of her musical voice, went far toreconcile him to this life of inactivity and "inglorious ease," as hetermed it in his moments of restless longing to be again in the field.

  By the last of March this ardent desire was granted, and he hurried awayin fine spirits, leaving May pale and tearful, but with a ring on herfinger that had not been there before.

  "Ah," said Lottie, pointing to it with a merry twinkle in her eye, andpassing her arm about May's waist as she spoke, "I shall be very generous,and not tease as you did when somebody else treated me exactly so."

  "It is good of you," whispered May, laying her wet cheek on her friend'sshoulder; "and I'm ever so glad you're to be my sister."

  "And won't Aunt Wealthy rejoice over you as over a mine of gold!"

  Poor Harold, sitting pale and weak upon the side of his cot, longing to bewith his friend, sharing his labors and perils, yet feeling that thesprings of life were broken within him, was lifting up a silent prayerfor strength to endure to the end.

  A familiar step drew near, and Dr. King laid his hand on the young man'sshoulder.

  "Cheer up, my dear boy," he said, "we are trying to get you leave to gohome for thirty days, and the war will be over before the time expires; sothat you will not have to come back."

  "Home!" and Harold's eye brightened for a moment; "yes, I should like todie at home, with mother and father, brothers and sisters about me."

  "But you are not going to die just yet," returned the doctor, with assumedgayety; "and home and mother will do wonders for you."

  "Dr. King," and the blue eyes looked up calmly and steadily into thephysician's face, "please tell me exactly what you think of my case. Isthere any hope of recovery?"

  "You may improve very much: I think you will when you get home; and,though there is little hope of the entire recovery of your former healthand strength, you may live for years."

  "But it is likely I shall not live another year? do not be afraid to sayso: I should rather welcome the news. Am I not right?"

  "Yes; I--I think you are nearing home, my dear boy; the land where 'theinhabitant shall not say, I am sick.'"

  There was genuine feeling in the doctor's tone.

  A moment's silence, and Harold said, "Thank you. It is what I havesuspected for some time; and it causes me no regret, save for the sake ofthose who love me and will grieve over my early death."

  "But don't forget that there is still a possibility of recuperation; whilethere's life there's hope."

  "True! and I will let them hope on as long as they can."

  The doctor passed on to another patient, and Harold was again left to thecompanionship of his own thoughts. But not for long; they were presentlybroken in upon by the appearance of May with a very bright face.

  "See!" she cried joyously, holding up a package; "letters from home, andNaples too. Rose writes to mamma, and she has enclosed the letter for ourbenefit."

  "Then let us enjoy it together. Sit here and read it to me; will you? Myeyes are rather weak, you know, and I see the ink is pale."

  "But mamma's note to you?"

  "Can wait its turn. I always like to keep the best till the last."

  Harold hardly acknowledged to himself that he was very eager to hear newsfrom Elsie; even more than to read the loving words from his mother's pen.

  "Very well, then; there seems to be no secret," said May, glancing overthe contents; and seating herself by his side she began.

  After speaking o
f some other matters, Rose went on: "But I have kept mygreatest piece till now. Our family is growing; we have another grandsonwho arrived about two weeks ago; Harold Allison Travilla by name.

  "Elsie is doing finely; the sleepy little newcomer is greatly admired andloved by old and young; we make as great a to-do over him as though hewere the first instead of the fourth grandchild. My husband and I aregrowing quite patriarchal.

  "Elsie is the loveliest and the best of mothers, perfectly devoted to herchildren; so patient and so tender, so loving and gentle, and yet so firm.Mr. Travilla and she are of one mind in regard to their training,requiring as prompt and cheerful obedience as Horace always has; yetexceedingly indulgent wherever indulgence can do no harm. One does notoften see so well-trained and yet so merry and happy a family of littlefolks.

  "Tell our Harold--my poor dear brother--that we hope his name-child willbe an honor to him."

  "Are you not pleased?" asked May, pausing to look up at him.

  "Yes," he answered, with a quiet, rather melancholy smile; "they are verykind to remember me so. I hope they will soon bring the little fellow tosee me. Ah, I knew Elsie would make just such a lovely mother."

  "Nothing about the time of their return," observed May, as she finishedreading; "but they will hardly linger long after the close of the war."

  May had left the room, and Harold lay languid and weak upon his cot. AConfederate officer, occupying the next, addressed him, rousing him out ofthe reverie into which he had fallen.

  "Excuse me, sir, but I could not help hearing some parts of the letterread aloud by the lady--your sister, I believe----"

  "Yes. Of course you could not help hearing, and there is no harm done,"Harold answered with a friendly tone and smile. "So no need forapologies."

  "But there is something else. Did you know anything of a Lieutenant WalterDinsmore, belonging to our side, who fell in the battle of Shiloh?"

  "Yes; knew and loved him!" exclaimed Harold, raising himself on his elbow,and turning a keenly interested, questioning gaze upon the stranger.

  "Then it is, it must be the same family," said the latter, half tohimself, half to Harold.

  "Same as what, sir?"

  "That letter I could not help hearing was dated Naples, signed RoseDinsmore, and talked of Elsie, Mr. Travilla, and their children. NowLieutenant Dinsmore told me he had a brother residing temporarily inNaples, and also a niece, a Mrs. Elsie Travilla; and before going into thefight he intrusted to me a small package directed to her, with the requestthat, if he fell, I would have it forwarded to her when an opportunityoffered. Will you, sir, take charge of it, and see that it reaches thelady's hands?"

  "With pleasure. How glad she will be to get it, for she loved Walterdearly."

  "They were near of an age?"

  "Yes; the uncle a trifle younger than the niece."

  "Dinsmore and I were together almost constantly during the last six monthsof his life, and became very intimate. My haversack, Smith, if youplease," addressing a nurse.

  It was brought, opened, and a small package taken from it and given toHarold.

  He gazed upon it with sad thoughtfulness for a moment; then, bestowing itsafely in his breast-pocket, "Thank you very much," he said, "I willdeliver it with my own hand, if she returns from Europe as soon as weexpect."