The Providence news. (Providence [R.I.]) 1891-1906, 1892-06-13
THE LETTER TO ROSE

Cnlppalo8o, ana the nght WaS oScf' ~
had been hot and fierce while IL lasted,
and the battered remnant OF Southern
troops, though at last they had been
forced to fight, leaving ore-third their
force on the fieid, had thinned the num-
bers of their conquerors.
To Roland Pearse, monotonously tramp
ing on sentry duty along the track worn
by his own feet in the snow at tantaliz-
ing distance from the nearest of the
watch fres which cleaned around the
central one, where the officers were sunk
In sleep, II seemed as II the dawn would
never come. A years hard campaigning
had toughened him TO all accidents OF
war, and the coldest and longest nights
watch after the hardest days fighting or
marching came to him, as a rule, natur-
ally enough. But he had been wounded
In the fight, though not seriously, yet
painfully, and between the consequent
loss of blood and the bitter cold was
weary well nigh to death. In the dead
stiffness of the night the monoton-
Gus chant of the river near at hand
combined with weakness and WEAKNESS
to stupefy his senses, and for minutes
together he shuffied along the track he
had worn in the snow with quite uncon-
scious persistence, awakening at the end
of his beat with a nerve shattering start,
and falling asleep again ere he had well
turned to retrace his steps.
With O vague idea that q new beat
would somewhat relieve the monotony OF
his watch, he struck into another track
and trudged resolutely at right angles
with his former course, the two lines OF
footsteps making a gigantic cross upon
the snow. His former lassitude was again
beginning to conquer him, when it was
suddenly dissipated by voice which rang
out on the stiffness with startling sud-
denness, instinct with anguish:
"If you have the heart Of man in your
breast, for Gods sake, help me"
Twenty feet from where he stood Roland
beheld the figure of O man raised feebly
on one elbow above the level of the snow.
There was only just light enough to dis
tinguish 1t. He approached it cautiously,
with his rife advanced and shooting rapid
chances from the PROSTATE figure to every
clump Of snow-c covered herbage or in
equality Of ground which might afford
shelter for an ambuscade.
"I am alone" the man said.
He spoke each word upon a separate
sob of pain and weakness. He wore the
Southern uniform, and Roland saw that
body, helpless and distorted. An old
sabre cut traversed his face from the
cheek bone to the temple. He looked the
very genius of defeat.
lam dyingi" he painted to Roland.
The young man pulled his beard as he
looked down at him, and shrugged his
shoulders with a scarce perceptible ges-
ture.
81 know" said the Southerner. al
don't growl at that. I've let daylight in
q few of your fellows in my time, and
would again IL got the chance. Now it's
my turn, and I'm going to take it quiet.
But want to say something-to write
something to my wife in Charleston?
Will you do that for me? It isn't much
for q man to ask of another. don't
want to die and rot in this cursed wilder
ness without saying good-by to her."
"You must look sharp, them" said
Roland, kneeling beside him, " for / shall
be called into camp in few minutes"
He took an old letter from his pocket,
and with numbed fingers began to write,
at the wounded mans dictation, on its
blank side.
"My darling Rose," he began.
Roland started as II stung by q snake,
and bent a sudden look of questioning
anger on his companions face. The
Southerner looked back at him for a mo-
ment with look of surprise. Then his
face changed.
"Jim Vickers!" said Roland.
"Roland Pearse!" cried the other, and
for moment there was silence between
them.
"Last time your name passed my lips
said Roland, slowly" 81 swore to put q
bullet in you on sight"
81 guess you needn't" said Vickers;
"Ive got two already. Not that Pm par
ticular to bullet or so, only you might
finish the letter first, anyhow. For Gods
sake, Pearse," he continued, sudden emo
tion conquering his daredevil cynicism,
"write the letter! It's for Rose. She
won't have a cent in the world il / can't
send her the news Iwant you to write, and
she and the child will starve. got her
by trick, know, and nasty trick, too;
but I'd have done murder to get her. She
was the one woman i ever cared q straw
for, really. And she loves me, too. Shoot
me, IL you like; but for Gods sake, write
the letter."
Roland bent his head over the scrap of
paper again.
"Go on, he said, hoarsely, and Vickers
went on, painting out the words with an
eagerness which proved the sincerity of
his affection. The letter had regard to
the disposition OF certain sums of money
for which the voucher had been DESTROYED
by fire during the siege of Philipville
two days previously. 1t was scarcely
ended when a bugle sounded from the
camp.
"That's the sentinels recall" said Ro-
land. al must get in. I'll forward the
letter the first chance get."
He rose. vtckers, with a dumb agony
of grateful entreaty in his face, feebly
held up his left hand-the right arm was
shattered. After a moments hesitation
Roland bent and took il.
"Here," he said, "take this"
He dropped his flask beside him. "Keep
your heart up; perhaps you amt as bad as
you think. "Ill see IL i can get help for
you"
Tears started to the wounded wretch's
eyes.
"Rose had better have taken you.
guess" he said. Roland turned sharply
away.
90 I,Il be back as uuickiv ne 7 can ~ h.