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.




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