"And my brother may be well in that time," she said. "I am so anxious to see him once more in the saddle, where he craves to be and where he belongs."
There are women who prefer to see the men whom they love kept back by a wound in order that they might escape a further danger, but not of such was Helen. Prescott remembered, too, the single glance, like a solitary signal shot, that had pa.s.sed between her and Mrs. Markham.
"We are all anxious to see Colonel Harley back in the saddle," he replied, "and for a good reason. His is one of our best sabers."
Then she asked him to tell her of the army, the nature of the position it now occupied, the movements they expected, and he replied to her in detail when he saw how unaffected was her interest. It pleased him that she should be concerned about these things and should understand them as he explained their nature; and she, seeing his pleasure, was willing to play upon it. So talking, they walked farther and farther from the house and were joined presently by the cheerful Talbot.
"It"s good of you to let us see you, Miss Harley," he said. "We are grateful to your brother for getting wounded so that you had to come and nurse him; but we are ungrateful because he stays hurt so long that you can"t leave him oftener."
Talbot dispensed a spontaneous gaiety. It was his boast that he could fall in love with every pretty girl whom he saw without committing himself to any. "That is, boys," he said, "I can hover on the brink without ever falling over, and it is the most delightful sensation to know that you are always in danger and that you will always escape it.
You are a hero without the risk."
He led them away from more sober thoughts, talking much of Richmond and the life there.
They went back presently to the house and met Mrs. Markham at the door just as she was leaving.
"The Colonel is so much better," she said sweetly to Miss Harley. "I think that he enjoys the visits of friends."
"I do not doubt it," replied the girl coldly, and she went into the room.
CHAPTER XVI
THE GREAT REVIVAL
Two men sat early the next morning in a tent with a pot of coffee and a breakfast of strips of bacon between them. One was elderly, calm and grave, and his face was known well to the army; the other was youngish, slight, dark and also calm, and the soldiers were not familiar with his face. They were General Lee and Mr. Sefton.
The Secretary had arrived from Richmond just before the dawn with messages of importance, and none could tell them with more easy grace than he. He was quite unembarra.s.sed now as he sat in the presence of the great General, announcing the wishes of the Government--wishes which lost no weight in the telling, and whether he was speaking or not he watched the man before him with a stealthy gaze that nothing escaped.
"The wishes of the Cabinet are clear, General Lee," he said, "and I have been chosen to deliver them to you orally, lest written orders by any chance should fall into the hands of the enemy."
"And those wishes are?"
"That the war be carried back into the enemy"s own country. It is better that he should feel its ills more heavily than we. You will recall, General, how terror spread through the North when you invaded Pennsylvania. Ah, if it had not been for Gettysburg!"
He paused and looked from under lowered eyelashes at the General. There had been criticism of Lee because of Gettysburg, but he never defended himself, taking upon his shoulders all the blame that might or might not be his. Now when Mr. Sefton mentioned the name of Gettysburg in such a connection his face showed no change. The watchful Secretary could not see an eyelid quiver.
"Yes, Gettysburg was a great misfortune for us," said the General, in his usual calm, even voice. "Our troops did wonders there, but they did not win."
"I scarcely need to add, General," said the Secretary, "that the confidence of the Government in you is still unlimited."
Then making deferential excuses, Mr. Sefton left the tent and Lee followed his retreating figure with a look of antipathy.
The Secretary wandered through the camp, watching everything. He had that most valuable of all qualities, the ability to read the minds of men, and now he set himself to the discovery of what these simple soldiers, the cannon food, were thinking. He did it, too, without attracting any attention to himself, by a deft question here, a suggestion there, and then more questions, always indirect, but leading in some fashion to the point. Curiously, but truly, his suggestions were not optimistic, and after he talked with a group of soldiers and pa.s.sed on the effect that he left was depressing. He, too, looked across toward the Northern lines, and, civilian though he was, he knew that their tremendous infolding curve was more than twice as great as that forming the lines of the South. A singular light appeared in the Secretary"s eyes as he noticed this, but he made no verbal comment, not even to himself.
The Secretary"s steps led straight toward the house in which the wounded Colonel Harley lay, and when the voice bidding him to enter in response to his knock was feminine, he smiled slightly, entered with light step, and bowed with all the old school"s courteous grace over the hand of Helen Harley.
"There are some women, Miss Harley," he said, "who do not fear war and war"s alarms."
"Some, Mr. Sefton!" she replied. "There are many--in the South, I know--and there must be as many in the North."
"It is your generous heart that speaks," he said, and then he turned to Colonel Harley, who was claiming the attention of an old acquaintance.
The two men shook hands with great warmth. Here was one who received the Secretary without reserve. Miss Harley, watching, saw how her brother hung upon the words of this accomplished man of the world; how he listened with a pleased air to his praise and how he saw in the Secretary a great man and a friend.
He asked Helen presently if she would not walk with him a little in the camp and her brother seconded the idea. He was not intentionally selfish, and he loved his sister.
"She sits here all the time nursing me," he said, "when I"m almost well, and she needs the fresh air. Take her out, Mr. Sefton, and I"ll thank you if she doesn"t."
But she was willing to go. She was young; red blood flowed in her veins; she wished to be happy; and the world, despite this black cloud of war which hung over her part of it, was curious and interesting. She was not fond of close rooms and sick beds, so with a certain relief she walked forth by the side of the Secretary.
It was another of those beautiful days in May which clothe the Virginia earth in a gauze of spun silver. Nature was blooming afresh, and peace, disturbed by the vain battle of the night before, had returned to the armies.
"It seems to me a most extraordinary thing to behold these two armies face to face and yet doing nothing," said Helen.
"Wars consist of much more than battles," replied the Secretary.
"I am learning that," she said.
She looked about her with eager interest, custom not dimming to her the strange sights of an army in camp and on the eve of a great conflict.
Nothing was like what she imagined it would be. The soldiers seemed to have no fear of death; in fact, nothing, if they could be judged by their actions, was further from their thoughts; they were gay rather than sad, and apparently were enjoying life with an indifference to circ.u.mstances that was amazing.
They were joined presently by Prescott, who thought it no part of his cue to avoid the Secretary. Mr. Sefton received him with easy courtesy, and the three strolled on together.
The Secretary asked the news of the camp, and Prescott replied that the Reverend Doctor Warren, a favourite minister, was about to preach to the soldiers.
"He is worth hearing," said Prescott. "Doctor Warren is no ordinary man, and this is Sunday, you know."
This army, like other armies, included many wild and lawless men who cherished in their hearts neither the fear of G.o.d nor the fear of man; but the South was religious, and if the battle or march did not forbid, Sunday was observed with the rites of the church. The great Jackson, so eager for the combat on other days, would not fight on Sunday if it could be helped.
The crowd was gathering already to hear the minister, who would address them from a rude little platform built in the centre of a glade.
The day was so calm, so full of the May bloom that Helen felt its peace steal over her, and for the moment there was no war; this was not an army, but just a great camp-meeting in the woods, such as the South often had and still has.
The soldiers were gathered already to the number of many thousands, some sitting on stumps and logs and others lying on the ground. All were quiet, inspired with respect for the man and his cloth.
"Let us sit here and listen," said Prescott, and the three, sitting on a convenient log, waited.
Doctor Warren, for he was an M.A. and a Ph.D. of a great American university and had taken degrees at another in Germany, ascended his rude forest pulpit. He was then about forty years of age; tall, thin, with straight black hair, slightly long, and with angular but intellectual features.
"A good man," thought Helen, and she was deeply impressed by his air of authority and the respect that he so evidently inspired.
He spoke to them as to soldiers of the cross, and he made his appeal directly to their hearts and minds, never to their pa.s.sions. He did not inquire into the causes of the conflict in which they were engaged, he had no criticism for the men on the other side; he seemed rather to include them in his address. He said it was a great war, marked by many terrible battles as it would be marked by many more, and he besought them so to bear themselves that whatever the issue none could say that he had not done his duty as he saw it. And whether they fell in battle or not, that would be the great comfort to those who were at home awaiting their return.
Prescott noticed many general officers in the crowd listening as attentively as the soldiers. All sounds in the camp had died and the speaker"s clear voice rose now and penetrated far through the forest.