A slight movement of Sanderson's head acknowledged Rachel's bow.
“I am so glad to see you,” he whispered, taking hold of her hand. “Sit down there, please.”
Rachel took the indicated seat at the head of the cot.
“Doctor,” inquired Sanderson, “is it true that McClellan has had to fall back from before Richmond?”
“I have tried hard to keep the news from you,” answered Dr. Denslow, reluctantly. “I feat it is too true. Let us hope it is only a temporary reverse, and that it will soon be more than overcome.”
“Not in time for me,” said Sanderson, in deep dejection. “I have lived several days merely because I wanted to see Richmond taken before I died. I can wait no longer.”
The Doctor essayed some confused words of encouragement, but stopped abruptly, and feigning important business in another part of the hospital, hurried out, bidding Rachel await his return.
When he was gone Sanderson lifted Rachel's hand to his lips, and said with deep feeling:
“I am so glad you have come. You remind me of her.”
The ebbing life welled up for the last time into such ardent virility that Rachel's first maidenly instinct was to withdraw her hand from his earnest pressure and kiss.