Drearily the November wind went sweeping down the street, and the sobbing rain beat against the window, whilst the misty daylight came struggling faintly into the silent room which held the living and the dead; the one cold, and white, and still, his features wearing a smile of peace as if he had indeed entered into everlasting rest,—the other kneeling by his side, and with his face buried in the pillows, praying that when his time should come, he, too, might die the death of the righteous, and go where George had gone.
CHAPTER XIV.
MATTERS IN ROCKLAND.
With quivering lip Mr. Mather told the members of Company R that their lieutenant was dead; and strong men as they were they did not deem themselves unmanly that they wiped the big tears away, and crowding around their informer anxiously asked for particulars of their departed comrade, all speaking kindly of him, and each thinking of the sweet girl-wife at home on whom the news would fall so crushingly. A soldier’s dying was no novel thing in Washington, and so, aside from Company R, there were few who knew or cared that another soul had gone to the God who gave it,—that another victim was added to the list which shall one day come up with fearful blackness before the provokers of the war. The drums beat just the same,—the bands played just as merrily, and the busy tide went on as if the quiet chamber in —— street held no stiffened form, once as full of life and hope as the gay troops marching by.
But away to the Northward there was bitter mourning, and many a bright eye wept as the sad news ran along the streets that Rockland’s young lieutenant, of whom the people were justly proud, lay dead in Washington, and many a heart beat with sympathy for the young wife who, ever since hearing the fatal news, had lain upon her bed, more dead than alive, with a look upon her white face which told better than words of the anguish she was enduring.
Nothing could induce Rose to leave her for a moment. “Will had staid by George,” she said, “and she should stay by Annie.”
With her sitting by, Annie grew stronger, and could at last talk calmly of what was expected on the morrow.
“It will be terrible,” she said, “to hear the tramp of feet coming up the walk, and know they are bringing George! Oh, Mrs. Mather, you’ll stay by me, won’t you, even if your husband is among the number?”
Annie did not mean to be selfish. She was too much benumbed to realize anything fully, and she never thought what it would cost Rose to stay there, knowing her husband would seek her at home, and be so disappointed at not finding her there. Rose could not refuse a request so touchingly made, but just as the morning broke she went home for a few moments to see that all necessary preparations were made for Will’s comfort; then, penning him a note to tell why she was not there to meet him, she returned again to the cottage, where Widow Simms was busily at work setting things to rights for the expected arrival, her tears falling upon the furniture she was dusting, and her chest heaving with sobs as she heard in the distance the sound of a gathering crowd, and thought,