"I? I do not pray for myself! I wish to die."

"Then you will! G.o.d be praised!"

"I will see you again," she said rising, and catching one more glance of his calm, blue eyes she hurried away. After tea she retired to her room, much against the wishes of Mrs. Howard, who was urgent in her requests that Anna should visit her patient that night, but all to no avail.

"Tell him," she said, "I will see him in the morning; I _can not_ go to-night; O no, I can not!" and entering her seclusion she closed the door, much to the chagrin of the good lady, and seated herself to collect her thoughts.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER XXV.

THE RECOGNITION.

Anna awoke the next morning with the half-dreamy consciousness of some impending evil or gloomy foreboding or trial she was expected to meet or avert. For a long time she lay on her bed balanced between a peaceful unconsciousness and the stern realities of duty that were rising before her, until at last the full burden of life rolled in upon her mind.

Springing from her bed she dropped upon her knees beside it. For the first time in her life she discovered her utter helplessness; her inability to go alone! Before her were heavy loads she was expected to take up and carry along, but with this consciousness came also the invitations whispered to her shrinking heart, "come unto me"--"cast thy burden on the Lord and He will sustain thee." There in the solitude of that early morn she came close to Him who had promised strength sufficient in every time of trouble and perplexity. Firmer were her purposes when she arose from her knees; more willing was she to sacrifice all her dearest hopes at the feet of justice, if such stern duty was in store for her. As tears are sometimes the gentle dew that falls upon and refreshes the drooping flowers of life, so prayer is the concentration of the golden rays of light that color and beautify the re-animated petals, sending into the heart once filled with desolation and despair the freshness of a new life, and driving out the dying fumes that arise from the withered flowers where fond hopes lie buried. Softly came this gentle influence into the soul of her who under the shadows was kneeling and praying! Was it faith or love that was soothing her?

Perhaps neither. The burdened spirit may not yet have drunk from the golden cup which the hand of mercy had proffered; but it had listened to the music of pity's hovering wings as she brooded near while gathering up the fragrance of the heart's pet.i.tions to bear away with the tears from the overflowing soul. Anna felt these refreshing influences, yet she knew not from whence they came. Her face bore the softening impress as she entered the breakfast room and inquired regarding the wounded colonel.

"He is a little more quiet this morning," replied Mrs. Howard; "but was very restless all night. I was up with him the greater part of the time." Anna seated herself at the table but could not eat.

"I think I will go over to the hospital for a few minutes," she said, rising; "tell him I will soon return and then will come to him."

"Why not go now, Miss Pierson? It is sad to witness his misery! Your absence, I am sure, is now his greatest affliction!"

"Indeed, I must go and get my own wounds dressed before I can attend to others!" This last remark was made partly to herself as she left the room, but enough fell on the ear of the listener to fill her with astonishment.

"What could the girl mean?" she asked herself over and over again, but received no satisfactory reply. In the meantime Anna was making her way to the hospital, and upon arriving proceeded immediately to the ward where she had, on the day before, talked with the one who had known and loved her brother. But he was not there. Even the cot had been removed, and on the floor where it had stood a large dark spot was seen. Sick at heart and without one word of inquiry she hurried into the next room where the kind old nurse could, she was sure, tell her all.

"Yes, dear, these things are dreadful for us to bear," was the reply to her visitor's earnest questionings; "but could you have seen his face as his life rapidly ebbed away you would have been satisfied that sometimes 'it is Christ to live, but to die is gain.' What you saw yesterday was no comparison to it; so holy; so joyous! It was about four this morning they called me, but so rapid was his going that I only caught a glimpse of the glory that shone through as the gate to the 'city' opened for him!"

"Yet it seems so hard to me just now that he must die," interposed Anna as she looked dreamily out over the long rows of cots where wounded men were lying. "Was it because my poor heart reached out after him in its sorest need? Must all be taken?" She had said this musingly, but the nurse heard it and her face shone with interest. "Forgive me," she added quickly, perceiving the look that was fastened upon her, "I was bewildered for a moment."

"There is a Comforter, and it was He that gave him his powers of consolation! You know he said yesterday that he would be obliged to bestow only second hand what he had received."

"Yes, I remember, but tell me more of him."

"It is the story of many others, yet it came all unexpectedly, as it has often done. It was the giving way of the main artery that had been severed so near the body that there was no chance for again securing it.

It was not five minutes after he discovered his position before he was quietly sleeping! Such a death has no sadness in it my dear girl, for it was only stepping out of pain and suffering into peace and rejoicing!"

"Thank you," said Anna as she turned away, for kind words were needed elsewhere. Alone in her room again she gave full vent to her feelings.

"I am ready now," she thought as she bathed her face that her swollen lids might not grieve him, and prepared to fulfill her promise. It was with trembling steps, however, that she entered the room where George St. Clair was lying. He was alone and apparently asleep as she approached the bedside and looked down into his face so calm in its repose; so gentle in its outline; almost feminine it appeared to her in its tenderness. Yet she had seen it when it was not as it was now. How different! She placed her hand on his forehead that he might awake before the dark thoughts should come back to her. He opened his eyes and looked full into hers! A deep flush overspread his face, yet not a muscle moved or a word escaped his lips. "George, will you not speak to me?" she asked at last.

"Yes, Anna; but why have you absented yourself so long? Have you desired to revenge your brother's blood upon me? Upon my poor head, Anna? Are you so cruel? Tell me that you lay not that sin at my door; or use the dagger for my more immediate relief! Does this shock you? Am I the one who is the most cruel after all?"

Anna sank down upon a chair near by and buried her face in the pillow.

Both were silent for a long time; at length Mrs. Howard entering aroused her.

"You must not disturb my patient, you know," she said with an attempt at pleasantry, for she was happy to see Anna at last where she thought she ought to be. "You are to cheer him up, for he seems quite low spirited to-day."

"We shall, no doubt, do very well," replied St. Clair, impatiently; and the kind-hearted lady after administering the medicine, left the room.

"Anna, will you move your chair a little this way that I may see your face? I want to talk candidly with you." She obeyed. He looked at her for a moment, but there was more of sorrow than scrutiny in his gaze. At last he said, "Mrs. Howard tells me you are going home."

"Yes, I must go; my mother will want all that is left of him whom she has so dearly loved! The staff is broken upon which she expected to lean in her declining years. It is a hard task, but I have no power to shrink from it!"

"Have you made all of your calculations to do so?"

"Not wholly. I shall wait for your father whom I am expecting here to-morrow in company with Ellen."

"Ellen? Is she coming? Then you will not return?"

"No!" This was spoken with a tremulous voice, and she knew his eyes were fixed intently upon her. "You will not need me," she continued, after a moment's pause; "your sister Ellen can do all it would have been in my power to perform, and my mother will be very lonely and sad without me."

"You did not think Ellen was so efficient a few days ago, Anna. How changed you are! Yes, I think I understand you; but can you not be mistaken? Look at my hands, dear girl, are there any dark stains upon them? Think of my prostrate form; is he the less guilty who spilled my blood because this life did not escape through the wound? Blood for blood, Anna, and justice is satisfied! Are you sterner than that insatiate power?"

Tears flooded her eyes and she bowed her head to conceal them. Where now was the strength she had expected would sustain her through this trying ordeal? O how weak she seemed! How flitting the sunshine that had but a short time before gilded her darkness!

"Anna," said her companion, "your heart is pleading for me! It is not your better judgment that is sitting at my tribunal at this moment; I know it all! I read it months ago as you stood before me so cold and stern when you first beheld my uniform, and it has followed you ever since. You loved me then and you cannot hate me now! Look up, Anna, and tell me if my words are not true?" She obeyed.

"They are true! I did love you, and G.o.d knows how hard it would be to tear that love from my heart! But you will wait; the storm has burst in upon my soul. When the fury is past and the clouds are broken, in the calm you shall read what now is so bleared and illegible! George, you can never know the depths of sadness that is permeating my every hope and aspiration! If you knew the agony of the last few hours, that has torn me like an evil spirit, you would pity me!"

"I do pity you, Anna; and will trouble you no longer lest my words should prove an infliction rather than a panacea, and I will, as you have requested, bide patiently your time." The young lady arose and stood before him.

"Good-bye, George, make haste to recover," she said without emotion; "your mother pines for you and many hearts will rejoice when you are well again." He was looking steadily at her while she spoke, and their eyes met. Her lips quivered, but quickly bowing her head she pressed a kiss upon his brow and darted from the room.

Early the next morning after a restless, sleepless night, Anna prepared herself for another visit to the young lady who had so tenderly nursed her brother during his days of suffering and death. She did so long to look again into those deep, dark eyes, from which had beamed so much sympathy, and to ask many questions which she had omitted at their former interviews. It was a damp, chill morning, for the sun was hiding behind dense leaden clouds and a thick fog had settled down upon the city. However, she liked all this, for nature was in her most congenial mood with such frowns upon her face, and so she hurried on. She received a warm greeting from the beautiful nurse, whom she noticed was much paler than when she saw her last, and was at the moment apparently unusually agitated. Not far from her two ladies richly, but plainly attired, were standing conversing in low, soothing tones with a sick soldier.

"Do you know those ladies?" she asked eagerly as she clasped the hand of her visitor.

"No, although I have caught a glimpse of their dresses several times in the other wards during the last few days," replied Anna, stepping back a little that she might look into their faces. But in vain. "I have heard one of them spoken of as a very wealthy English lady who was at the south, but was compelled to come north on account of her anti-war principles; but have thought very little about them."

"I must see that face again!" said the nurse, musingly. "See how persistently they keep their backs toward me! They have been here an hour and seem in no hurry to go, yet it is impossible for me to catch the eye again of that one wearing the gray silk. I have seen her before, Miss Pierson; I am sure of it!" A call from one of the patients interrupted the conversation. Anna moved slowly down the apartment to intercept, and if possible to engage them in conversation, while her friend could have the privilege she so ardently coveted. She was avoided, however, and the visitors soon pa.s.sed out into the open air.

"Do tell me what it was that came over you so suddenly with sufficient power to shake your dry bones so effectually, and take all of the bra.s.s out of your face?" inquired one of the worthies when once again clear of searching eyes.

"Do not jest!" entreated her companion. "Matters are becoming rather serious to me, as you will acknowledge when I tell you that the young nurse in whom you seemed so much interested is my own daughter!"

"Your daughter! I do not wonder that you shook in your boots! Do you suppose that she recognized you?"

"I feel sure of it, for her cheek paled as she caught the glance of my eye, and I felt all the time we were there that she was watching me!"

"How do you suppose she came here? You told me she was with an aunt in New Orleans!"

"So she was, the idiot!" was the answering exclamation. "I have no patience with her! She has been my tormentor for years! It was not enough for her to throw away all of my cherished plans, depriving me of home and fortune, but now she must appear to add the crowning act to my discomfiture!"

"Would you have me believe all this of one who is so mild and gentle, with eyes as calm--"