A man got out of the ambulance, and approached; he had a pipe in his mouth; he was a small man, not more than five feet tall. I felt as though in the presence of a miracle.
"I have been seeking you," he said.
IV
A PERSONAGE
"I cannot tell
What heaven hath given him; let some graver eye
Pierce unto that."--SHAKESPEARE.
For a time I was dumb. I knew not what to say or ask or think. The happenings of this terrible day, which had wrought the defeat of the Union army, had been too much for me. Vanquished, exhausted, despairing, heart-sore from enforced desertion of my wounded friend, still far from safety myself, with no physical desire remaining except the wish to lie down and be at rest forever, and with no moral feeling in my consciousness except that of shame,--which will forever rise uppermost in me when I think of that ignominious day,--to be suddenly accosted by the man whom I held in the most peculiar veneration and who, I had believed, was never again to enter into my life--accosted by him on the verge of the lost battlefield--in the midst of darkness and the débris of the rout, while groping, as it were, on my lone way to security scarcely hoped for--it was too much; I sank down on the road.
How long I lay there I have never known--probably but few moments.
The Doctor took my hand in his. "Be consoled, my friend," said he; "you are in safety; this is my ambulance; we will take you with us."
Then, he called to some one in the ambulance, "Reed, bring me the flask of brandy."