When Fanny Lester and Lilian reached the end of their journey, they were at first denied admittance to the hospital; and it was only after the most strenuous exertions on the part of Mr. Ryder that they were allowed to see Capt. Lester.
“I am afraid, my dear young friends,” said the good man, “that you will not be permitted to remain with him; the military rules are very strict, and few favors are shown here.”
“Have no fears on that score, my dear sir,” Lilian replied. “If once we gain entrance, it will take at least a regiment to dislodge us.”
It was evening when they entered the room where the sick man lay, seemingly insensible to every thing around him; and as Lilian approached, the nurse who had been moistening his lips from time to time, came forward, and greeting her kindly, offered her a seat by his side. Though terribly shocked at his death-like appearance, Lilian was outwardly calm; and taking from the nurse minute directions with regard to the treatment to be pursued, busied herself in arranging the dressings and medicines, to conceal the emotion which threatened to overpower her.
When this was done, she seated herself by the bedside, and taking the hand of the wounded man, placed her fingers on his wrist to assure herself that he still lived, for in that darkened room his sleep so closely resembled death, that her heart stood still with terror as she looked upon him. Hardly had she touched his wrist when a perceptible thrill ran through the veins; there was a slight movement, and then a faint voice whispered, “Is this Lilian?”
Too much agitated to reply at once, she gave him the stimulant prescribed by the nurse, turned up the lamp that she might see his face, and then said as calmly as she could,
“Yes, Robert, it is your sister and Lilian, who have come to nurse and make you well.”
“Thank God!” was the low response; and then he seemed to sleep again, while Lilian watched him through the night, glad to find that her young companion had forgotten her sorrows in refreshing slumber. From that time Capt. Lester’s symptoms were slightly improved, and he had more frequent intervals of consciousness, though there were yet but faint hopes of his recovery. If medical skill and the most assiduous care could save him, he was certain to recover, for Lilian or Fanny were with him night and day, anticipating every want, and soothing by their tender sympathy the sufferings which no skill could wholly relieve.
For some weeks it was feared by the surgeons that amputation of the foot must take place; and nothing but the prayers and tears of Lilian induced them to delay it, until, by the blessing of God on her exertions, it was no longer deemed necessary. The ball still remained in his shoulder, and had hitherto eluded search; but it was at length found and extracted; and from that hour his progress, though slow, was sure.
“How is it, Robert,” said Lilian one day, when he was suffering more than usual from his wounds, “that you are always so cheerful and patient, though you suffer so much? I have heard that convalescents are expected to be irritable and capricious, but you do not avail yourself of the privilege at all. You must be naturally indifferent to pain, or else you have too much pride to allow it to overcome you; which is it?”