Midway between himself and the house was a comfortable-looking barn,
whither he resolved to go. But the journey was a tedious one, and
brought to his flushed forehead great drops of sweat, wrung out by the
agony it caused him to step upon his foot. At last, when he could bear
his weight upon it no longer, he sank upon the ground, and crawling
slowly upon his hands and knees, reached the barn just as it was growing
dark, and the shadows creeping into the corners made him half shrink
with terror lest they were the bayonets of those whose coming he was
constantly expecting. He could not climb to the scaffolding, and so he
sought a friendly pile of hay, and crouching down behind it, ere long
fell asleep for the first time in three long days and nights.
The early June sun was just shining through the cracks between the
boards when he awoke, sore, stiff, feverish, burning with thirst, and
utterly unable to use the poor, swollen foot, which lay so helplessly
upon the hay.
"Oh, for Anna now," he moaned; "if she were only here; or Lily, dear
Lily, she would pity and forgive, could she see me now."
But hark, what sound is it which falls upon his ear, making him quake
with fear, and, in spite of his aching ankle, creep farther behind the
hay? It is a footstep--a light, tripping step, and it comes that way,
nearer, nearer, until a shadow falls between the open chinks and the
bright sunshine without. Then it moves on, around the corner, pausing
for a moment, while the hidden coward holds his breath, and listens
anxiously, hoping nothing is coming there. But there is, and it enters
the same door through which he came the previous night--a girlish
figure, with a basket on her arm--a basket in which she puts the eggs
she knows just where to find. Not behind the hay, where a poor wretch
was almost dead with terror. There was no nest there, and so she failed
to see the ghastly face, pinched with hunger and pain, the glassy eyes,
the uncombed hair, and soiled tattered garments of him who once was
known as one of fashion's most fastidious dandies.
She had secured her eggs for the morning meal, and the doctor hoped she
was about to leave, when there was a rustling of the hay, and he almost
uttered a scream of fear. But the sound died on his lips, as he heard
the voice of prayer--heard that young girl as she prayed, and the words
she uttered stopped, for an instant, the pulsations of his heart, and
partly took his senses away. First for her baby boy she prayed, asking
that God would be to him father and mother both, and keep him from
temptation. Then for her country, her distracted, bleeding country, and
the doctor, listening to her, knew it was no Rebel tongue calling so
earnestly on God to save the Union, praying so touchingly for the poor,
suffering soldiers, and coming at last even to him, the miserable
outcast, whose bloodshot eyes grew blind, and whose brain grew giddy and
wild, as he heard again Lily's voice, pleading for George, wherever he
might be. She did not say: "God send him back to me, who loves him
still." She only asked forgiveness for the father of her boy, but this
was proof to the listener that she did not hate him, and forgetful of
his pain he raised himself upon his elbow, and looking over the pile of
hay, saw her where she knelt. Lily, Adah, his wife, her fair face
covered by her hands, and her soft, brown hair cut short and curling in
her neck.