"I think I will go over to the hospital for a few minutes," she said, rising; "tell him I will soon return and then will come to him."
"Why not go now, Miss Pierson? It is sad to witness his misery! Your absence, I am sure, is now his greatest affliction!"
"Indeed, I must go and get my own wounds dressed before I can attend to others!" This last remark was made partly to herself as she left the room, but enough fell on the ear of the listener to fill her with astonishment.
"What could the girl mean?" she asked herself over and over again, but received no satisfactory reply. In the meantime Anna was making her way to the hospital, and upon arriving proceeded immediately to the ward where she had, on the day before, talked with the one who had known and loved her brother. But he was not there. Even the cot had been removed, and on the floor where it had stood a large dark spot was seen. Sick at heart and without one word of inquiry she hurried into the next room where the kind old nurse could, she was sure, tell her all.
"Yes, dear, these things are dreadful for us to bear," was the reply to her visitor's earnest questionings; "but could you have seen his face as his life rapidly ebbed away you would have been satisfied that sometimes 'it is Christ to live, but to die is gain.' What you saw yesterday was no comparison to it; so holy; so joyous! It was about four this morning they called me, but so rapid was his going that I only caught a glimpse of the glory that shone through as the gate to the 'city' opened for him!"
"Yet it seems so hard to me just now that he must die," interposed Anna as she looked dreamily out over the long rows of cots where wounded men were lying. "Was it because my poor heart reached out after him in its sorest need? Must all be taken?" She had said this musingly, but the nurse heard it and her face shone with interest. "Forgive me," she added quickly, perceiving the look that was fastened upon her, "I was bewildered for a moment."
"There is a Comforter, and it was He that gave him his powers of consolation! You know he said yesterday that he would be obliged to bestow only second hand what he had received."
"Yes, I remember, but tell me more of him."
"It is the story of many others, yet it came all unexpectedly, as it has often done. It was the giving way of the main artery that had been severed so near the body that there was no chance for again securing it. It was not five minutes after he discovered his position before he was quietly sleeping! Such a death has no sadness in it my dear girl, for it was only stepping out of pain and suffering into peace and rejoicing!"
"Thank you," said Anna as she turned away, for kind words were needed elsewhere. Alone in her room again she gave full vent to her feelings. "I am ready now," she thought as she bathed her face that her swollen lids might not grieve him, and prepared to fulfill her promise. It was with trembling steps, however, that she entered the room where George St. Clair was lying. He was alone and apparently asleep as she approached the bedside and looked down into his face so calm in its repose; so gentle in its outline; almost feminine it appeared to her in its tenderness. Yet she had seen it when it was not as it was now. How different! She placed her hand on his forehead that he might awake before the dark thoughts should come back to her. He opened his eyes and looked full into hers! A deep flush overspread his face, yet not a muscle moved or a word escaped his lips. "George, will you not speak to me?" she asked at last.