The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1863-08-28

When her lover looked into her eyes he
knew her thought. Still he asked the
question, =.
"What am I to do, Margery9
What God and your own soul tell
your"
'sAnd you, child?"
II am to wait and bear; or, perhaps,
l, too, shall find my work"
So Nelson Harding had marched away
in the August sunshine, and Margery
Dane was to commence her waiting.
Honor to the brave who fight and con-
quer, or fight and fall But is theirs the
hardest fate? Do not those suffer more
who cannot lose in action their fear and
anguish? who must count slow hours,
shudder at tidings of onward movements,
live on fragments of newspapers? Ay;
and is it not true that every bullet shoots
double, and the shot that flies furthest
makes the sorest wound?
But Margery's waiting did not last long.
So soon, that it scarcely seemed as if the
regiment could have reached its destina-
ton, the news of Antietam came. The
Sixteenth was engaged in it, and she read
among the wounded the name of Lieut..
Nelson Harding. She was a slight, deli
cately organized little thing. Her tall,
strong lover had been want to call her his
child; but the child did not shrek or
faint. She did not even cry. Some spirit
other than her own seemed to have taken
possession of her-a cool, brave spirit,
strong to do and to dare! She went to
the room where her uncle and aunt were
sitting together They started when they
saw the white, firm face, whence all the
pink prettiness was gone as utterly as if
it had been touched by death.
Il am going to Washington, uncle.
Lieutenant Harding is wounded. He will
be in the hospital. The next train leaves
in an hour
"But, child, you must not go alone ="
said Mr.. Dane, with startled face and Won
dering eyes. ado you want me?"
s. As you please. 1t might be a help, if
you could get away in time. There is on
ly an hour
She shut the door. Her uncle and aunt
exchanged glances.
"She will 60" Mrs. Dane said; Il
know her. OF course, you had better go
to take care of her"
That settled it. Mrs. Danes judy
ments were always final
When the long journey was over, and
Mr.. Dane and lis niece stood on the
! threshold Of the Baltimore hospital, to
which they had been sent from Washing
| ton, they met there q Connecticut Sur
geon whom they knew. Mr. Dane inqui-
red OF BIN for Lieutenant Harding.
"There is 10 hope for him, poor fell
low!i' was the answer, and then Surgeon
Hunt met Margery's eyes, and remember
Ell that she was Nelson iIardng's prom
ised wife. He murmured sincere but
half indistinct apology, which her clear
tones cut short:
Thank you-do not blame yourself
I wanted to hear the truth. It was best
that | should know it before | saw him
Now, show me where he is, please
"Nelspn."
She had been standing for moment
watching him. Eyes and mouth were shut
resolutely against tear or moan. But his
ghastly face was eloquent She could see
in his conyulsed features the tortures he
was bearing silently. At her voice his
eyes opened. The old fond look renaced
the pain in them. think he forgot for q
moment that he was suffering when he
saw the slight form at his bedside, and
hoard the voice, the wel!-known, we'll
loved voice. He put out his hand:
Child-love-Margery!'
Did you expect me, Nelson 2"
Tomorrow; not to-day. had not
| thought you could be here so soon. I
was waiting for your coming to die. I
, think | should have waited week il need
were. But the agony is horrible"
She bent over him, and left kiss on
the pale forehead. He drew her closer
then, and his lips chung to hers with long,
cespairing pressure.
To think after tonight I shall never
kiss you again, Margery. If we meet in
heaven it will not be as here. | shall love
your spirit; but it seems to me / shall
miss ali this vanished sweetness of tender
eyes, loving lips. softly falling Lair. God
help Us, child, how little the best of us
KIN W where We are going!'
Then she comfcrted him with her clear
er vision, her stronger faith. 1t could not
be for long she whispered their parting
She would be his through all time and
eternity, just as truly as now.
For hours he lay with her hand in his
waiting. 1t was strange feeling he had
had when he heard her voice and met her
eyes-a feeling that she had brought him
his release from pain-that now even
Death would treat him gently. But the
strange thought may have been true.
Through those long winter hours with her
hand in his, he did not suffer. He only
felt his strength ebbing away, and knew
that his life was dissolving into moments.
Just at the last hi, face bright ned and he
whispered:
Something tells me you are right,
Margery. The future will not be dim and
pale beside the present. 1t will be bright
er. My soul before it leaves the body, is
asserting its own immortality. know
that / shall live hereafter. Never think
you are solitary again, child. 1 shall live
and l shall love you. Day times and
night times will bring you nearer to me,
each one:"
Then pause, broken only by her tears,
which wet his hair, and her kisses on his
lips-then he cried, with one last effort:
"Never be sorry, Margery, that went.
| am not. fell doing Gods work. If I
| l,.~l u IL