“Rest—long rest—will come very soon. But now—I must go on,” persisted the sinking girl, pointing to the note-book.
Dr. Sales shook his head. Erminie turned on him an imploring look, and her eyes filled with tears.
“You cannot resist the prayer of the dying, and the most important part of my bequest is behind. The remaining third—”
Here, with a sigh, Dr. Sales took up his note-book.
—“The remaining third of my property I wish Justin to devote to the relief of the aged and indigent mothers left destitute by the death of their soldier sons.”
The pastor wrote this down and then looked up for further instructions.
“That is all,” said Erminie, simply.
Dr. Sales would willingly have inquired her reasons for making this bequest to the mothers rather than to the widows and orphans of the war; but he refrained from taxing her strength with an explanation.
She, however, saw the question in his face, and freely answered it.
“Every one thinks of the widows and orphans of the war. All the concerts and fairs got up for the sufferers by the war are for the widows and orphans. And this is right so far as it goes, for the widows and orphans must be cared for. But no one thinks of the aged and indigent mothers whose sons have fallen in battle. And this is all wrong; for these old mothers are perhaps the greatest sufferers of all. The widow may find another husband, and the orphan another father, but the desolate mother who has lost her son in battle finds never another to fill his place in the ‘aching void’ of her heart. Therefore will I try to relieve the wants, if I cannot comfort the hearts, of the mothers.”