“Yes,” she assented, “and this the South is beginning to understand. But I cannot help thinking of the joy awaiting your mother when she learns that you are well, after she has mourned you as dead. It will almost repay her for all the rest. How I should love to be the bearer of such news.”
As she spoke she quietly rose to her feet and smiled pleasantly as I took advantage of the opportunity to sit up.
“I thought you must be tired, lying in that position so long; besides, I am sure I have tarried here quite as long as I should, now that I can be of no further service.”
As she gathered her skirts in her hand preparatory to descending the stairs, I yielded to temptation and stopped her. Right or wrong I must yet have one word more.
“I beg of you do not desert me so soon. This may prove our final meeting,—indeed, I fear it must be; surely, then, it need not be so brief a one?”
She paused irresolute, one white hand resting upon the dark stair-rail, her face turned partially aside so I could only guess at its expression.
“Our final meeting?”
She echoed my words as though scarcely comprehending their meaning.
“Yes,” I said, rising and standing before her. “How can we well hope it shall be otherwise? I am not free to remain here, even were it best for other reasons, for I am a soldier under orders. You undoubtedly will proceed North at the earliest possible moment. There is scarcely a probability that in the great wide world we shall meet again.”
“The war will soon be over; perhaps then you may come North also.”