A STRANGE ENCOUNTER
This incident of old Aunt Dilsey and Sam was but one of many that set Dorothea to thinking deeply. The summer had passed with but little change in the village of Washington. September had seen Sherman in possession of Atlanta; he had occupied Savannah in December and a month later began his successful march through South Carolina. But the most significant occurrence of that Autumn was the reëlection of Mr. Lincoln. This was a confirmation of the unity felt in the North to prosecute the war to the end and a blasting of the hopes of those Southerners who, realizing their dwindling resources, had worked to bring about some form of compromise. The winter of 1865 was a continued history of defeat for the Confederate armies who opposed Sherman. Charleston was evacuated in February, and when the Stars and Stripes once more floated over Sumter’s ruins, it seemed to Dorothea that the end of the war had really come. For she developed an intense interest in all these matters and it was hard for her to understand how her cousins could close their eyes to the clear meaning of events.
Miss Imogene was away upon a visit to other relatives and there was no one to whom the girl could talk freely, so that her thoughts were in a somewhat chaotic state. She was surprised sometimes to find herself so eager for news of the war, as if in some way her personal fortunes were involved. Now and then she would say to herself that these things made little difference to an English girl; but immediately there came the recollection that she was half American.
A rainy spring followed a cold and dismal winter, and although early in April the weather cleared for a time, it brought no cheer to the South. General Lee was near Richmond with his army, and about him were the Union forces under Grant. The Confederacy was making its last stand, though there were very few in the South who would acknowledge the condition.
In the May household there was little to indicate that a crisis existed in the cause for which they all worked. So far the cruelties of war had passed them by, but one bright morning Hal was brought home by his colored body-servant, Big Jim, quite out of his senses from a bad saber wound in the head and a crippled leg. Mrs. May, with admirable fortitude, welcomed him, glad to have her son back to nurse and thanking Heaven it was no worse.
Big Jim’s story of the incident reflected a good deal of credit upon himself and he seemed immensely proud of his successful meeting of the emergency, and was never tired of talking about it.
“I drug the Lil’ Marse out o’ the battle and the doctor he done fix him up on the road,” Jim explained. “Den the Colonel, hisself, was brung by wounded an’ the doctor, he had to go off wif him so he tol’ me to carry Lil’ Marse to the horspital. But I seen ouah sogers when they comes out of them places wifout they’s laigs, or they’s arms, or they’s eyes, an’ I says, ‘Big Jim, Ol’ Miss gwine for you somethin’ turrible, if you on’y brings back chunks of Lil’ Marse,’ so I done brung him (all o’ him, mind), right here and didn’t go near no horspital, where like as not they’d done ampitate his haid like they do arms and laigs. Now you-all fix him up jes’ to suit yourselves.”
That was Big Jim’s story, and from then on the entire household revolved about the sick-room and even the news of battles became of secondary importance.
In the afternoon Harriot, being free of her governess, proposed to carry the news to Corinne; for Mrs. Stewart, in spite of her many threats of immediate departure, was still in Washington.
“We may get some poundcake, you know,” Harriot suggested as an added inducement, but there was a lack of conviction in her tone.