The spring evening deepened from twilight into dusk, the moon rose and shone with mild radiance over the scene that had abounded in gloom, tragedy and adventure the night before. The conflict which then had taken place now caused the pathetic life-and-death struggles occurring in and about the old mansion. In the onset of battle muscle and the impulse to destroy dominated; now the heart, with its deep longings, its memories of home and kindred, the soul with its solemn thoughts of an unknown phase of life which might be near, came to the fore, rendering the long, doubtful straggle complex indeed.
The stillness was broken only by the steps and voices of attendants and the irrepressible groans of those who watched for the day with hope that waxed and waned as the case might be. Uncle Lusthah yearned over the Federal wounded with a great pity, the impression that they were suffering for him and his people banishing sleep. He hovered among them all night long, bringing water to fevered lips and saying a word of Christian cheer to any who would listen.
Miss Lou wakened with the dawn and recognized with gladness that her strength and courage for work had been restored. Even more potent than thoughts of Scoville was the impulse to be at work again, especially among those with whom she inevitably associated him. Dressing hastily, she went first to see the old Confederate colonel. He was evidently failing fast Ackley and an attendant were watching him. He looked at the girl, smiled and held out his hand. She took it and sat down beside him.
"Ah!" he said feebly, "this is a good deal better than dying alone. Would you mind, my child, writing some things I would like to say to my family?"
Miss Lou brought her portfolio and tearfully received his dying messages.
"Poor little girl!" said the colonel, "you are witnessing scenes very strange to you. Try to keep your heart tender and womanly, no matter what you see. Such tears as yours reveal the power to help and bless, not weakness. I can say to YOU all the sacred, farewell words which would be hard to speak to others."
Brokenly, with many pauses from weakness, he dictated his last letter, and she wrote his words as well as she could see to do so. "They will be all the sweeter and more soothing for your tears, my dear," he said.
He kept up with wonderful composure until he came to his message to "little Hal," his youngest child. Then the old soldier broke down and reached out his arms in vain yet irrepressible longing. "Oh, if I could kiss the little fellow just once before—" he moaned.
For a few moments he and the girl at his side just wept together, and then the old man said almost sternly, "Tell him to honor his mother and his God, to live for the South, for which his father died. Say, if he will do this he shall have my blessing, not without. Now, my child, I trust this letter to you. Good-by and God bless you. I wish to be alone a little while and face the last enemy calmly."
As she knelt down and kissed him tears again rushed to his eyes and he murmured, "That was good and sweet of you, my child. Keep your heart simple and tender as it is now. Good-by."