"Bobbie", a Story of the Confederacy

by Kate Langley Bosher

Such a short, hurried time, it seemed afterwards, before everything was decided, all preparations made, and all the great changes, which at first they thought would only prove temporary, settled down to a permanent thing. The neighborhood, once so gay and bright and full of all that makes life worth the living, was turned into a kind of camping ground or recruiting station, and “White Point” was the nucleus around which everything centered.

Mr. Tayloe was the leading spirit of the place, and no better-drilled body of cavalry entered the service than the “Rockland Home Guards” under his command, with Bobbie as his first lieutenant and Dr. Trevillian as surgeon. “Grey Cliffs” was to be closed, with only the servants in their quarters, to take charge of the place as long as they proved faithful, and Dorothy was established with Bobbie’s mother. Her aunt had left for the city, where, she said sadly, she knew there would be plenty to do after awhile, and soon the beautiful old home had a dreary, deserted look, for the shadow of coming sorrow was hovering over it.

Bobbie had begged hard to be married before he should start for what might perhaps be an interminable absence, but Dr. Trevillian was firm in his refusal for a year longer at least.

“I am giving you the light of my life, Bobbie,” he said, putting his hand on the young man’s shoulder, as he stood pleading his cause, just two days before they received orders to join H.’s regiment at C—, “and you must wait, my man, until she is a little older—she is so young yet! Perhaps”—he cleared his throat and went on after a minute—“perhaps, after I leave here, I may never come back; but remember always, that my daughter’s happiness is in your power, and that I put into your hands the most sacred trust one man can give another. I charge you to guard it well.”

Bobbie bared his head as a knight of old. “So help me God,” he said reverently, “I shall be worthy of it.” They shook hands in silence and separated.

It was the night before they were to start. Mr. Tayloe and his wife were shut in their room. The Doctor was in the library writing some final directions to be sent over to “Grey Cliffs,” and Bobbie and Dorothy were out on the lawn, under the old wishing-tree down by the gate. Every preparation for departure had been made, and the start was to occur at five the next morning. Peter Black was in an ecstasy of delight because he was to accompany his young master as his body-servant, and Sallie Tom was in the depths of stern and silent indignation and despair at the turn affairs had taken.

She now had her son down in the cabin for final admonitions as to the duties and obligations resting upon him, and for renewed charges that no matter where they might be, in case anything happened to the young master, he was to bring him home, if possible; if not, he was to come himself and tell her that she might go to him.

Bobbie and Dorothy were silent for a long time, down under the old wishing-tree, for neither could trust themselves to speak of the things nearest their hearts, but after awhile Bobbie began to talk of the orders received the day before. “If it were not for leaving you and mother,” he said, “if it weren’t for that continual nightmare hanging over me, I think I should enjoy going more than anything on earth. We have talked, and argued, and discussed all this so long that I am glad the time has come to fight it out; it is the only way to settle it, and the sooner begun the sooner ended.”

Dorothy answered slowly, and after a long pause: “Yes, I know it is the only way to settle it, but it is a horrible price that must be paid for the final decision. Ah, I understand how you feel, but you are going into it, into the danger, into work, into action—and—I know—into death, too, perhaps,” and her voice shook a little, “but it is so much harder for us—we who have to stay here—who must sit day after day—waiting to hear. Of course, I can knit socks, and tear strips, and make bandages to send to the city; but what can I do to make myself forget for one single moment that you may be needing me—or father?”—and she broke down in a genuine sob, and then in a minute she slipped away from him. “You will think me a coward—and I know I am not that—see, I have brought you something—you must keep it, and read it, and be the man it can make you,” and she put in his hands a tiny pocket Testament, on the inside of which she had pasted a small picture of herself.