'Awful things, those Minié wounds,' observed a young surgeon who stood near me; and then, as he went on to describe how the horrible ball revolves in the lacerated flesh, I suddenly caught a full view of the features, over which the shadow of death seemed to have settled, and fainted dead away.
It was a long time, I believe, before I regained my senses; but as soon as I did, I went to work. Mr. Summers was stretched before me on that cot, with a gaping wound in his shoulder, that had not been attended to in proper time. He opened his eyes once, and smiled, as he seemed to recognize me bending over him; but a fainting fit ensued, and then he became delirious.
I could not bear to have any one else attend to him, and I watched him faithfully day and night. That dreadful Minié wound seemed as if it never would heal, and I think that the doctors scarcely expected him to get up again. I almost felt as if I had been brought to the hospital for this one purpose; and without his ever having told me in plain words that he loved me—in spite of all my wise resolutions to the contrary—during silent watches beside that couch of suffering, I became convinced that I loved him with all the strength of which I was capable. Yes, I who had nominally devoted myself to the service of my country, had ignominiously closed my career by falling in love with the first good-looking patient that had been brought into my ward!
If any stupid man, though (a woman would know better), supposes that I informed Mr. Summers of this, either by word or look, in his first lucid moment, he is entirely mistaken. On the contrary to punish myself for this humiliating weakness, I was more severe than ever; and when the patient became well enough to thank me for my kind attention, etc., I told him, as coldly as I could, that it was no more than I would have done for the commonest soldier—(which was not strict truth)—that my labors were given to my country, and not to individuals—with much more to the same purpose.
Mr. Summers sighed deeply, and turned over on his pillow; and he did not imagine how I felt.
He said no more on the subject then; but, one evening, when he had been moved from his bed to an easy chair, he spoke out like a man, and a pretty determined one, too, in plain terms, and asked me if I would ever marry him?
In just as plain terms I told him that I never would—I had resolved to devote my life in this manner; and, with an expression of utter hopelessness, he replied that he took back all his thanks for the miserable life I had saved; he was weary of it, and would hasten to throw it away on the next battle field.
This was very dreadful, of course; but that winter's practice had given me quite a turn for arithmetic, and I fell to calculating how many battles would probably transpire before that crippled shoulder would let him take the field again.
'You will not get out under three months,' said I, confidently.
He looked at me for a moment; and then, bending closer, he whispered, 'You do not really mean it, Isabel?'