The telegram from the War Department was brief, as all such telegrams were perforce obliged to be. The Secretary of War, through his representative, regretted to inform Captain Zelotes Snow that Sergeant Albert Speranza had been killed in action upon a certain day. It was enough, however—for the time quite enough. It was not until later that the little group of South Harniss recovered sufficiently from the stunning effect of those few words to think of seeking particulars. Albert was dead; what did it matter, then, to know how he died?
Olive bore the shock surprisingly well. Her husband's fears for her seemed quite unnecessary. The Captain, knowing how she had idolized her daughter's boy, had dreaded the effect which the news might have upon her. She was broken down by it, it is true, but she was quiet and brave—astonishingly, wonderfully quiet and brave. And it was she, rather than her husband, who played the part of the comforter in those black hours.
“He's gone, Zelotes,” she said. “It don't seem possible, I know, but he's gone. And he died doin' his duty, same as he would have wanted to die if he'd known 'twas comin', poor boy. So—so we must do ours, I suppose, and bear up under it the very best we can. It won't be very long, Zelotes,” she added. “We're both gettin' old.”
Captain Lote made no reply. He was standing by the window of the sitting-room looking out into the wet backyard across which the wind-driven rain was beating in stormy gusts.
“We must be brave, Zelotes,” whispered Olive, tremulously. “He'd want us to be and we MUST be.”
He put his arm about her in a sudden heat of admiration. “I'd be ashamed not to be after seein' you, Mother,” he exclaimed.
He went out to the barn a few moments later and Rachel, entering the sitting-room, found Olive crumpled down in the big rocker in an agony of grief.
“Oh, don't, Mrs. Snow, don't,” she begged, the tears streaming down her own cheeks. “You mustn't give way to it like this; you mustn't.”
Olive nodded.
“I know it, I know it,” she admitted, chokingly, wiping her eyes with a soaked handkerchief. “I shan't, Rachel, only this once, I promise you. You see I can't. I just can't on Zelotes's account. I've got to bear up for his sake.”