“Poor wife!” he said, “poor little child!”
When I spoke, I felt as if I were tearing my heart out by the roots.
“I—I—must—let—you—go!”
“That is my own brave girl. Never mind, Nell, I will make you proud of your soldier!”
“Oh, Dan! Dan!” I sobbed, “I don’t want to be proud of you! I just don’t want you to get hurt! I don’t want you to go if I could help it—but I can’t! I don’t want fame or glory! I want you!”
He smoothed my hair with slow touches, and was silent. Then he spoke again, trying to comfort me with those false hopes all fed on.
“I still doubt if there will be any fighting. But if there is, I must be in it. I can’t be a coward. There! there! Nellie, don’t cry! I hope for peace. The North and the South both want peace. You will laugh at all of this, Nell, when we come back from Norfolk without striking a blow!”
“Dan, let me go with you.”
“Dear, I can’t. How could you travel around, with only a knapsack, like a soldier?”
“Try me. I am to be a soldier’s wife.”