"I know no such thing. There is nothing good in this place, -
except you, - and I suppose that is the reason you have chosen
it for your abode. I can't imagine how Aunt Randolph came to
let you, though."
"She let me come to take care of you."
"I'm not worth it. What's a man good for, when there is only
half of him left? I should like just to get into one other
field, and let powder take the other half."
"Hush, Preston! hush; you must not talk so. There's your
mother."
"My mother won't think much of me now, I don't know why she
should. You never did, even when I was myself."
"I think just as much of you now as ever, Preston. You might
be much more than your old self, if you would."
Preston frowned and rolled his head over on the pillow.
"Confounded!" he muttered. "To be in such a den of Yankees!"
"You are ungrateful."
"I am not. I owe it to Yankee powder."
What, perhaps, had Southern powder done? I shivered inwardly,
and for a moment forgot Preston.
"What is the matter?" said he. "You look queer; and it is very
queer of you to spill my tea."
"Drink it then," I said, "and don't talk in such a way. I will
not have you do it, Preston, to me."
He glanced at me, a little wickedly; but he had finished his
breakfast and I turned from him. As I turned, I saw that the
bed opposite, where Morton had died a few hours before, had
already received another occupant. It startled me a little;
this quick transition; this sudden total passing away; then,
as I cast another glance at the newly come, my breath stood
still. I saw eyes watching me, - I had never but once known
such eyes; I saw an embrowned but very familiar face; as I
looked, I saw a flash of light come into the eyes, quick and
brilliant as I had seen such flashes come and go a hundred
times. I knew what I saw.
It seems to me now in the retrospect, it seemed to me then, as
if my life - that which makes life - were that moment suddenly
gathered up, held before me, and then dashed under my feet;
thrown down to the ground and trampled on. For a moment the
sight of my eyes failed me. I think nobody noticed it. I think
nothing was to be seen, except that I stood still for that
minute. It passed, and my sight returned; and as one whose
life is under foot and who knows it will never rise again, I
crossed the floor to Thorold. We were not alone. Eyes and ears
were all around us. Remembering this, I put my hand in his and
said a simple "How do you do?"