"Oh," she faltered, "I wish I felt as you do, believed as you do. I hope you will get strong soon. I would like to tell you some things which trouble me very much, and there is no one I can tell."
"By and by," he whispered. "Don't worry. All right."
"Oh, what does this mean?" she thought as she returned to the house. "Awfully wounded, suffering, dying perhaps, yet 'glad with an exceeding joy'! Uncle and aunt haven't any idea of such a religion, and for some reason Dr. Williams never gave me any such idea of it at church. Why didn't he? Was it my fault? What he said seemed just words that made little or no impression. Since he tried to marry me to Cousin Mad I feel as if I could scarcely bear the sight of him."
Yet he was the first one to greet her on the veranda. He spoke with formal kindness, but she responded merely by a grave salutation, and passed on, for she felt that he should have understood and protected her in the most terrible emergency of her young life.
Having looked after the safety of his family, he had returned with the best and sincerest intentions to minister to the wounded. If the good he would do corresponded with these intentions he would have been welcomed in most instances; but he possessed that unfortunate temperament which is only one remove for the better from a cold indifference to his sacred duties. He did not possess a particle of that mysterious, yet in his calling priceless, gift termed magnetism for the lack of a better definition. All respected him, few warmed toward him or thought of opening to him their hearts. His mind was literal, and within it the doctrines were like labelled and separate packages, from which he took from time to time what he wanted as he would supplies from a store-room. God was to him a Sovereign and a Judge who would save a few of the human race in exact accordance with the creed of the Church in which the good man had been trained. What would happen to those without its pale was one of those solemn mysteries with which he had naught to do. Conscientious in his idea of duty to the last degree, he nevertheless might easily irritate and repel many minds by a rigid presentation of the only formula of faith which he deemed safe and adequate. It seemed his chief aim to have every form and ceremony of his Church complied with, and then his responsibility ceased. He and Mr. Baron had taken solid comfort in each other, both agreeing on every point of doctrine and politics. Both men honestly felt that if the world could be brought to accept their view of life and duty little would be left to be desired. When summoned to perform the marriage ceremony Dr. Williams no more comprehended the desperate opposition of Miss Lou to the will of her guardian, the shrinking, instinctive protest of her woman's nature, than he did the hostility of so many in the world to the tenets of his faith. His inability to understand the feelings, the mental attitude of others who did not unquestioningly accept his views and approve the action of the "powers that be" was perhaps the chief obstacle to his usefulness. He was not in the least degree intolerant or vindictive toward those who opposed him; his feeling rather was, "This is your opportunity. I gladly afford it and there my responsibility ceases"—a comfortable sort of belief to many, but one that would not satisfy a warm, earnest nature like Paul's, who said, "To the weak I became as weak, that I might gain the weak: I am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some." Paul would have found some way to reach the ear and heart of nearly every wounded man in the extemporized hospital, but for the reasons suggested the visits of poor Dr. Williams soon began to be very generally dreaded. Old Uncle Lusthah had far better success with those who would listen to him.
Miss Lou soon found her way to the Federal wounded again. While agreeably to her wishes there was no formality in her reception, it was evident that the poor fellows had now learned to regard her with deep affection.
"I have told them all," said Dr. Borden who received her, "that you did as Yarry wished, that you took a good rest and were looking this morning as you should, and it has pleased them greatly. Phillips died last night, and has been removed. He hadn't any chance and did not suffer much. Remembering your wishes, we kept Yarry here. He lies there as if he were dozing after his pipe, as he wished you to think."
The girl stepped to the side of the dead soldier and for a moment or two looked silently into the still, peaceful face. Quietly and reverently the surgeon and others took off their hats and waited till she should speak. "Oh," she breathed softly at last, "how thoughtful and considerate you have been! You have made this brave, unselfish man look just as if he were quietly sleeping in his uniform. There is nothing terrible or painful in his aspect as he lies there on his side. Poor generous-hearted fellow! I believe he is at rest, as now he seems to be. I want you all to know," she added, looking round, "that he shall be buried where I can often visit his grave and keep it from neglect, for I can never forget the kindness that he—that you all have shown me. Dr. Borden, I will now show Uncle Lusthah the place where I wish the grave to be, and when all is ready I will come and follow poor Yarry to it. Do you think there ought to be a minister? There is one here now—Dr. Williams, who has a church near the Court House."
"Just as you wish, Miss Baron. For one, I think a prayer from Uncle Lusthah, as you call him, would do just as well and be more in accordance with Yarry's feelings if he could express them. The old negro has been in and out nearly all night, waiting on the men, and has won their goodwill. He certainly is a good old soul."
"I agree with the doctor," added Captain Hanfield. "Were it my case I'd ask nothing better than a prayer from Uncle Lusthah over my grave, for he has acted like a good, patient old saint among us."