“Jest becase I do. I hain’t never in all my life loved you like I do at this minute. I’d fight fer you with my last breath; I’d die fer you. Jim, poor, dear Jim! you needn’t try to hide it from me. Mis’ Samuel had jest told me what the Regulators was goin’ to do when you turned the corner. I know you went down to the spring to meet ’em so me an’ the childern wouldn’t know it. Many a man would ‘a’ gone away an’ left his family ruther than suffer such disgrace. Oh, Jim, I’d a million times ruther they’d whipped me! I ’ll never git over it. I ’ll feel that lash on my back every minute as long as I live. They hain’t none of ’em got sense enough to see what a good, lovin’ man you are at the bottom. I’d ruther have you jest like you are than like any one o’ that layout. We must move away somewhars an’ begin all over. I don’t want the childern to grow up under sech disgrace.”
Her hand passed gently round to the front of his shirt. She unfastened it, and began to sob as she turned the garment down at the neck. “Oh, Jim, did they hurt you? Does it—”
“They didn’t tetch me, Martha,” he said, finally recovering his voice. “Sid Wombley kinder tuk pity on me an’ stood up fer me, an’ they all concluded to give me another trial. I hain’t lived right, Martha, I kin see it now, an’ to-morrow I’m a-goin’ to begin different. These fellows have got good hearts in ‘em, an’ after the way they talked an’ acted to-night I hain’t a-goin’ to harbor no ill-will ag’in’ ‘em.”
Mrs. Trundle leaned toward him. She began to cry softly, and he drew her head over on his shoulder and stroked her thin hair with his coarse hands. Then they kissed each other, went into the cabin, and went to bed in the dark, so as not to wake the children.
THE COURAGE OF ERICSON
In straggling, despondent lines the men in soiled gray leaned on their muskets and peered through the misty darkness at the enemy crawling across the field in front of them like a monster reptile. The colonel of the regiment nearest the coppice of pines strode restlessly back and forth in front of his men, on tenter-hooks of anxiety, the spasmodic glow of his cigar showing features grim and tortured.
“I feel like we ‘re in fer it to-night,” whispered Private Ericson to a battle-stained comrade.
“Right you are,” was the guarded reply; “an’ we-uns ain’t a handful beside the army out thar. I tell you the blasted fellers have had reinforcements sence the sun went down. I know it, an’ our colonel is beginnin’ to suspicion it. Ef he had his way he’d order a retreat while thar’s a chance.”