The glazed eyes lighted up with joy, and the white lips whispered the thanks which ended in a prayer for blessings on one who had proved himself so kind to the poor soldier.
“Come closer to me,” they said; “take my hand in yours and keep it there while I thank you for what you’ve been to me. You’ll forgive me, I know, that I ever thought you proud, for I did, and sometimes there was a bitter feeling in my heart when I saw your Rose surrounded with every luxury, and thought of Annie, as highly educated as she, taking a far lower place in Rockland, because her husband was a mechanic. There is more of that feeling among the working classes than you imagine, and you don’t know how much good a familiar word or a little notice from such a you does to those who fill the humbler walks of life. Women feel this more than men, and again I bless you for the care promised my Annie. I do not ask that you should take her to your home as you suggest. You’ll think differently of that bye and by, but see that she does not want; see that no winter night shall find her hungry, no winter morning cold. Oh, Annie, Annie, that you should ever come to this!”
It was a bitter, wailing cry, embodying all the mighty love the sick man had ever felt for his young wife. George had thought himself resigned, but weak human nature, which clings so tenaciously to life, was making one last effort for the mastery, and the worn spirit fainted for a time in the fierce struggle which ensued. The mind began to wander, and was in fancy back again at the cottage in the Hollow, where the soldier clasped his Annie to his bosom, begging of her in piteous tones not to love him less because he was a cripple. “I have only one arm to work with now, but I won’t let you starve, for when there’s but one crust left, I’ll give it all to you, and laugh so merrily that you will never guess how the hunger pain is gnawing at my heart. I’ve felt it once, my darling. I know just what it’s like. ’Twas on that terrible day when our brave boys met the foe, way up there at Manassas. There were hours, and hours, and hours, when we neither ate nor drank, and the July sun poured down so hotly, drying the perspiration which dropped from my hair like rain. ’Twas my very life I sweat away that awful day, fighting for the Union. Did you hear the battle, Annie,—hear the cannon’s bellowing thunder as it echoed through the Virginia woods? Wasn’t it grand the yell the Highlanders gave, as, with the 69th, they bore down battery after battery, and plunged into the enemy’s midst! How bravely our company played their part, fighting their way through shot and shell, and blood and brains, wading ankle-deep in human gore! Hurrah for the Stars and Stripes, my boys! Three cheers for the Federal Flag! Yes, give us three times three; and when it floats again over all the land, remember the soldiers who helped defend it. Hurrah, hurrah!”
Mr. Mather shuddered as the wild shout rang through the room. It seemed so like a mockery, that dying soldier shouting for liberty, and trying in vain to wave aloft his poor, scarred stump. Anon, however, the patriotic mood was changed, and the voice was very sad which whispered:
“But hush! what sounds are these, mingling in the glad notes of victory? ’Tis the widow, the orphan, the mother, weeping over the slain! There’s mourning East and West; there’s weeping North and South, for the dead who will return no more! A crushed rebellion is hardly worth the fearful price. Oh, Annie, pray for the poor soldier,—everybody pray. Honor our memory,—forget our faults,—speak kindly of us when we are gone. We gave our life for freedom! ’Tis all that we can do. Speak kindly of the soldiers slain!”
Reason was struggling back again; and bending lower, Mr. Mather said:
“George, we will honor the soldiers dead, and care for the soldiers living.”
“Yes, yes!” George answered, faintly. “They need it so much,—more than the people guess who stay at home and read about the war. It will be long, and the contest terrible. The North is strong, and the South determined, and both will fight like fiends. But right must conquer at last, and the Star Spangled Banner shall wave again even over misguided Charleston, whose sons and daughters shall weep for joy as they greet the joyful sight. God speed the happy day!”
Mr. Mather could only press the hand which lay again in his. He could not speak, for he knew there was a third presence now in the sick-room,—that its dark form was shading the bed whereon he sat, and with that feeling of awe death always inspires, he sat silently watching its progress, and thinking, it may be, of the future time when William Mather would be the dying one instead of George Graham. Slowly the marble pallor and the strange chill crept on, pinching the nose, contracting the lips, touching the forehead and moistening the soft brown hair which William smoothed caressingly, as he bent down to catch the last faint whisperings of a spirit nearly gone.
“We fought the battle bravely. Tell them not to be discouraged because of one defeat. Our cause is just. ’Twill triumph at the last. Don’t be too bitter toward the South; there are kind hearts there as well as here, and its daughters weep as sadly as any at the North. God help and pity them all. Annie, darling, I am almost home; so near that I can see the pearly gates which stand open night and day. It is not hard to die,—no pain, no anguish now,—nothing but joy and gladness and everlasting rest, rest,—perfect rest for the Redeemed.”