CHAPTER XVI.
A CONFEDERATE MARRIAGE.
We now return to our two fugitives. They met with no other adventure, and arrived that evening at Dr. Arrington’s residence. The old gentleman would have gone into Washington himself when Mildred was arrested, but Ernest persuaded him to remain at home with his family, promising to promptly inform him if his presence should become necessary.
It is impossible to portray the scene which occurred when the two rode up and alighted. Mrs. Arrington, who had been almost brokenhearted, could not control her feelings in the transition from despair to joy. This arrival was like the coming back of the dead. The good lady must cry aloud. The Doctor was more calm, but the tears gently coursed down his cheek in gratitude to God for the restoration of his child. It was an hour or more before the family equilibrium approximated its normal condition sufficiently to admit of tranquil conversation. After a while the Doctor said:
“We must now have a special service—a service of gratitude, for I feel that my many earnest prayers have been answered.”
The family assembled in the parlor, and the Doctor selected some portions of Scripture suitable to the occasion, and all humbly and reverently bowed upon their knees. Such an out-pouring of thanksgiving never before was witnessed around that altar. This was a family of faith. They regarded God as the source of every blessing. The Doctor had no more doubt that God had restored his child, in answer to prayer, than he had of his own existence. Ernest, however, who loved to hear the old man defend his position, suggested that the same thing might have happened if there had been no prayers in the case.
“I am surprised at you,” answered the Doctor. “I do not know that I ever saw the hand of God more clearly revealed in my affairs.”
“But still,” said Ernest, “does it not all appear natural? Your nephew was in the city, and hearing of his cousin’s imprisonment, what is more natural than that he should restore her to liberty?”
“I remember,” said Mrs. Arrington, “how we were all distressed when we heard that Will had joined the Northern army. Little did we think that Mildred’s life depended upon it. How shortsighted we are!”
“And suppose,” said the Doctor, “that Will had not been in the court-room when the officer made the remark about her trial. You told us of this a while ago. This might have appeared accidental, but still it happened exactly at the right time. Suppose Will had not gone into that room at the moment he did, the trial would have ended the next day, and Mildred in all probability, would have never been sent back to the hotel, but to a dismal felon’s cell to await her execution, and then Will would not have been able to release her.”
“You say, Doctor,” answered Ernest, “that these things happened at the right time. Suppose this deliverance had occurred earlier, what difference would it have made?”
“We do not understand all God’s ways and purposes,” replied the Doctor; “but granting that this deliverance had occurred two or three days earlier, you would not have been present to give your assistance. Then suppose Mildred had tried to make her way alone, she might have been re-captured by that vidette you told us about. I do not see how you can fail to recognize divine providence in all this.”
“I do recognize it fully,” replied Ernest. “You must not think, Doctor, that I am disposed to doubt a supernatural providence. One reason why I asked the question which I did was to get your views. I wanted to hear you point out the particulars as you have done. I am glad to say that this severe trial has proved beneficial to me. I do not think I will ever again be as skeptical as I have been. I have had a lesson.”
“Let it be a lesson to us all,” answered the Doctor, “ever to have implicit faith in God.”
The next day Ernest requested a private interview with the Doctor. They met in the study, and Ernest said:
“I must return soon to the army, and, to make a long story short, I have come to ask you to perform the marriage ceremony for me and Mildred to-day.”
“To-day!” exclaimed the Doctor in surprise.
“Yes, sir; why not?”
“I do not suppose she is ready,” said the Doctor.
“It will not take long to get ready,” remarked Ernest. “People do not expect grand weddings such times as these.”
“No; but what put this sudden notion into your head?” asked the Doctor a little bluntly.
“We have come to the conclusion that there is no use waiting any longer.”
“Well, if it is Mildred’s wish,” replied the Doctor thoughtfully, “I shall interpose no objection.”
Accordingly, that very evening a few friends assembled at the Doctor’s residence, and at 8 o’clock Ernest and Mildred were pronounced “husband and wife.”
During those times young people entered into the marriage relation without much ceremony, and upon short notice. In many parts of the country it was impossible to procure suitable “wedding garments,” and the soldiers frequently married in their ordinary uniforms.
Ernest remained with his bride three or four days, and then started “off to the wars” again. It was a great and severe trial to the two young people to separate. They might never meet again in this world. Many a young man left his young wife, and in a few days afterwards he was slumbering in the soldier’s bloody grave.
“Mildred,” said Ernest in a husky tone, “pray for me. I have faith in your prayers.”
“Do not doubt my praying for you,” she said, while tears glistened in her eyes. “You will never be out of my mind a moment.”
“It does look hard,” said Ernest, “that we should be separated by the yawning gulf of war just as we are upon the threshold of life. I never knew the depth of my affection for you till now.”
“You will not suffer, after all, as I shall,” replied Mildred. “You will have the exciting scenes of war to occupy your thoughts, and I shall have nothing to think about but you. O, the long weary days that must pass away! I shall think of you as constantly exposed to dangers.”
And so they separated, both saying in their hearts, as they went their respective ways:
“O, shall we ever meet again?”