"You have not lost your pluck with your strength, I see, Captain McElroy," returning my salute; "I'm Captain Buford, a brother of the young woman you met at the home of Colonel Morgan, last April. Nelly saw your name in the list of wounded prisoners, several days ago, and has waited impatiently for my return to the city, that she might set me to searching for you. She tells me that you two entered into a friendly compact, pledging each other help and protection while the war lasts, whenever one is needed, and the other possible. It was your pleasure once, she bade me say, to extend courtesy to a Tory, it is hers now to show her appreciation of that courtesy, and also of the valor of a brave opponent,—the word enemy she charged me not to use."
The little blood left in my body all mounted to my face, and I knew not if it were weakness, or pleasure that made my brain reel so. "Will you convey to your sister my most grateful thanks, Captain Buford, and say to her for me that any obligation she may feel to my friends—for she can owe none to me, since she but honored me with her society—is doubly discharged by her gracious interest in my fate. If it is in my power to do so, I shall call to express my gratitude in person, as soon as I am strong enough. Will you be so good as to leave your address with me?" But I had used up all my will power, in this long speech, which had come faltering from my dry throat, and now I fell back on my pallet almost in a swoon of weakness.
"You need more practical assistance, if I mistake not, Captain McElroy, than a mere expression of interest. And our Cousin Abigail will never forgive us the neglect of a friend of her husband. If it is possible to get permission, and I think there will be no difficulty, we wish to take you to our house as a paroled prisoner. With a comfortable bed, and nourishing diet we shall have you well in no time."
"I am too unsightly an object to risk being seen by your mother and sister, Captain Buford—would it not be well to wait until I am strong enough to be shaven and dressed," I protested, weakly.
"You need only fresh garments, and a comb to be entirely presentable."
"Then I am in your hands."
When Captain Buford returned, he was accompanied by a physician and his own body servant, and had my parole in his hand. The last he showed me, while the physician administered a cordial hardly more stimulating, after which the negro valet made me as decent in appearance as my state permitted. Before they carried me to the ambulance in waiting, I stopped a moment, beside the lad's pallet to say good-by, and speak a cheering word to him. His fever had abated, now, but I feared he would die of exhaustion, aided by extreme dejection.
"Cheer up, comrade," I said; "my friends here have promised me they will have you paroled or exchanged, if you'll only set your mind to it, and get well."
"I'm glad for your good luck," he answered wearily, "but I don't expect to hear another friendly voice this side of Heaven."
"That is not soldier-like talk, lad—a patriot must learn to defy suffering, and mischance."