A compliment to the absent Captain Delaney Hyde Rusk drew from his uncle this sentiment: “The poor whites of the South! may the Lord open their eyes and send them plenty of soap!” The band played “Dixie.”
A venerable clergyman present, the Rev. Mr. Beitler, now rose and gave “The memory of our fallen brave!” This was drunk standing in solemn silence, with heads uncovered. But Mrs. Ireton and Clara vainly put their handkerchiefs to their faces to keep back their sobs. By a secret sympathy they sought each other, and sat down under a tree where they could be somewhat retired from the rest. Esha drew near, but had too much tact to disturb them.
It was four o’clock when a courier was seen running toward the assembled company. He came with an “Extra,” containing that telegraphic despatch from the President of the United States, flashed over the wires that day, giving comforting assurances from Gettysburg. Pompilard stood on a chair and proposed a succession of cheers, which were vociferously delivered. Clara and Mrs. Ireton dried their tears and partook of the general joy. Then rapping on the table, Pompilard obtained profound silence; and the old clergyman, kneeling, addressed the Throne of Grace in words of thankfulness that found a response in every heart. The day’s amusements ended in a stroll of the company through the beautiful grounds.
After the glory the grief. No sooner was it known that Lee, whipped and crestfallen, was retreating, than there was a call for succor to the wounded and the dying. Clara, under the escort of Major Purling (who was eager to glean materials for the great history) went immediately to Gettysburg. She visited the churches (converted into hospitals), where wounded men, close as they could lie, were heroically enduring the sharpest sufferings. She labored to increase their accommodations. If families wouldn’t give up their houses for love, then they must for money. Yes, money can do it. She drew on her trustees till they were frightened at the repetition of big figures in her drafts. She soothed the dying; she made provision for the wounded; she ordered the wholesomest viands for those who could eat.
On the third day she met Mrs. Charlton and her daughter, and they affectionately renewed their acquaintance. As they walked together through a hospital they had not till then entered, Clara suddenly started back with emotion and turned deadly pale. But for Major Purling’s support she would have fallen. Tears came to her relief, and she rallied.
What was the matter?
On one of the iron beds lay a captain of artillery. He did not appear to be wounded. He lay, as if suffering more from exhaustion than from physical pain. And yet, on looking closer, you saw from the glassy unconsciousness of his eyes that the poor man was blind. But O that expression of sweet resignation and patient submission! It was better than a prayer to look on it. It touched deeper than any exhortation from holiest lips. It spoke of an inward reign of divinest repose; of a land more beautiful than any the external vision ever looked on; of that peace of God which passeth all understanding.
Clara recognized in it the face of Charles[Charles] Kenrick. A cannon-ball had passed before his eyes, and the shock from the concussion of air had paralyzed the optic nerves. The surgeons gave him little hope of ever recovering his sight.
For some private reason, best known to herself, Clara did not make herself known to Kenrick. She did not even inform any one that she knew him. She induced Lucy Charlton to minister to his wants. On Lucy’s asking him what she could do (for she did not know he was Onslow’s friend), he said, “If you can pen a letter for me, I shall be much obliged.”
“Certainly,” said she; “and my friend here shall hold the ink while I write.”