Falling on my knees I began the struggle, and conquered self, and then I felt that I could forgive Frank, not alone for the sake of my promise, but for the sake of Christ and His Cross. With a faith I had never known before I prayed for mother’s restoration, pleading the promise, ”If ye shall ask anything in my name I will do it,” and arose from my knees with that ”peace that passeth all understanding” resting on my soul.
After a long while, as it seemed to my suspense, she rallied again, and addressed some words to me that showed she was rational. I hastened then to give her my promise, and assured her that I really, from my heart, forgave Frank, and would not harm him if I could.
She thanked me in her feeble way, and then asked me to sit near her and talk with Carlotta, that she might hear the sound of my voice, though she felt too weak to talk herself. Then, after Carlotta had put little Johnnie to bed in his corner, she came and sat by me, and with tearful eyes and aching hearts we talked of our parting on the morrow, when we would bid each other farewell, with a probability of never meeting again; when we would be separated without a possibility of communication; when each must suffer well grounded anxiety and prolonged suspense, because the other was exposed to constant and serious danger; when I must leave without having done a single thing to alleviate their condition, or render them less dependent on the Bembys. But ‘twas all for the Stars and Bars, and for them I would bear it thrice again.
In the ever flowing tide of our sympathy and love we took no note of time, and when we were startled by a tap at the door I was surprised to find that the window behind me was a gray square of light, and that objects were becoming plainly visible out in the yard. It was Ben who had knocked, and who said in a whisper, as I opened the door:
”Day’s broke, John; you’d better put on your fixins’, and let’s git out. The old man and his guard might git here before we leave, and that would spile our tramp and ruinate the folks here.”
With a sudden sinking at my heart, like we feel when we hear the footstep of the doctor who is to lance a bone felon for us, I turned into the chamber and began to make ready for my departure. My poor Carlotta, who had borne all so bravely, gave way at last, and clung to me weeping.
”Oh, John! I do try to bear up, but it seems that my heart will break now if you leave me. I know you could not protect me amid so many foes, but I would feel so much braver, so much more secure, if you could be with me—if I could get your advice and counsel, and have you help me nurse dear mother. John, what shall I do if she dies?”
”Would you have me stay, Carlotta?” I said, to prove her. ”I am in the Yankee lines now, and cannot be punished for desertion.”
”Desertion!” she exclaimed, with a blaze in her splendid eyes. ”Fondly as I love you, John, I would rather have you fall dead at my feet than leave our cause now because it is feeble. No, no, darling, go back to your command, and if we are conquered I will be proud of my husband because he wore the gray while I suffered at home.”
Blessing her for her encouragement to duty, I strained her again and again to my heart, asking God’s protection for her, and bidding her good bye.