"I? I do not pray for myself! I wish to die."
"Then you will! God be praised!"
"I will see you again," she said rising, and catching one more glance of his calm, blue eyes she hurried away. After tea she retired to her room, much against the wishes of Mrs. Howard, who was urgent in her requests that Anna should visit her patient that night, but all to no avail. "Tell him," she said, "I will see him in the morning; I can not go to-night; O no, I can not!" and entering her seclusion she closed the door, much to the chagrin of the good lady, and seated herself to collect her thoughts.
CHAPTER XXV.
THE RECOGNITION.
Anna awoke the next morning with the half-dreamy consciousness of some impending evil or gloomy foreboding or trial she was expected to meet or avert. For a long time she lay on her bed balanced between a peaceful unconsciousness and the stern realities of duty that were rising before her, until at last the full burden of life rolled in upon her mind. Springing from her bed she dropped upon her knees beside it. For the first time in her life she discovered her utter helplessness; her inability to go alone! Before her were heavy loads she was expected to take up and carry along, but with this consciousness came also the invitations whispered to her shrinking heart, "come unto me"—"cast thy burden on the Lord and He will sustain thee." There in the solitude of that early morn she came close to Him who had promised strength sufficient in every time of trouble and perplexity. Firmer were her purposes when she arose from her knees; more willing was she to sacrifice all her dearest hopes at the feet of justice, if such stern duty was in store for her. As tears are sometimes the gentle dew that falls upon and refreshes the drooping flowers of life, so prayer is the concentration of the golden rays of light that color and beautify the re-animated petals, sending into the heart once filled with desolation and despair the freshness of a new life, and driving out the dying fumes that arise from the withered flowers where fond hopes lie buried. Softly came this gentle influence into the soul of her who under the shadows was kneeling and praying! Was it faith or love that was soothing her? Perhaps neither. The burdened spirit may not yet have drunk from the golden cup which the hand of mercy had proffered; but it had listened to the music of pity's hovering wings as she brooded near while gathering up the fragrance of the heart's petitions to bear away with the tears from the overflowing soul. Anna felt these refreshing influences, yet she knew not from whence they came. Her face bore the softening impress as she entered the breakfast room and inquired regarding the wounded colonel.
"He is a little more quiet this morning," replied Mrs. Howard; "but was very restless all night. I was up with him the greater part of the time." Anna seated herself at the table but could not eat.