CHAPTER LVIII.
A GOLDEN SUNSET.
Dr. Sevier came to Richling’s room one afternoon, and handed him a sealed letter. The postmark was blurred, but it was easy still to read the abbreviation of the State’s name,—Kentucky. It had come by way of New York and the sea. The sick man reached out for it with avidity from the large bed in which he sat bolstered up. He tore it open with unsteady fingers, and sought the signature.
“It’s from a lawyer.”
“An old acquaintance?” asked the doctor.
“Yes,” responded Richling, his eyes glancing eagerly along the lines. “Mary’s in the Confederate lines!—Mary and Alice!” The hand that held the letter dropped to his lap. “It doesn’t say a word about how she got through!”
“But where did she get through?” asked the physician. “Whereabouts is she now?”
“She got through away up to the eastward of Corinth, Mississippi. Doctor, she may be within fifty miles of us this very minute! Do you think they’ll give her a pass to come in?”