Year: 1867




the negro woman started from her work
and advanced with cat-like step to the
bedside. Then she would take his hand
in hers, watch the rapid beat of the pulse,
and look despondingy. From amid his
long clustering curls tiny flow of blood
oozed continually, dyeing the hard pillow
whereon his head rested; and cloth after
cloth was removed till nothing was left
wherewith to efface the stains. 1t was a
sabre wound, rugged tear above the
temple, and inflicted by no masterly hand.
The woman resumed her work, and once
more the patient slumbered dreamily.


There was something in the behavior Of
this woman very STANCE. A heartfelt
suffering inwardly afflicted her. There
was an evident anxiety in her face, and,
moreover, one that seemed to depend
wholly on the recovery of the soldier. =
The issue of his sickness might influence
her health, for such devotion, if once
prostrated, can never recover to its proper
tone Nance Holk was n woman of a
quiet and prepossessing turn of mind; an
easy yet stern development of will were
no less her attractive qualification than
her faithful and self-denying solicitude
There was tie of some unexplained char
acter which taught her to care for and
guard with motherlike affection the life
of the young soldier, and with devotion,
which only woman can possess, she full
filled the great object she embarked for.


1t was almost night when the invalid
awoke. Nance knelt by the bedside with
her cake and warm coffee, solicitous wheth-
er his recovery might be retarded by the
use of such food. Her keen eye soon
discovered that the fever had entirely
abated, and with thanksgiving she uttered
brief prayer. She raised his head ten
derly, helping him to a half-reclining po-
sition, and almost counted the morsels he
eat in order to assure herself when it was
again needful to give him more refresh
ment. Then she bathed his wound with
fresh water, and helped him lie down,
while she, with a happy heart, resumed
her work.


He lay silent for some time regarding
her as she again heated more water to
bathe his feet, and at last accosted her in
a hoarse yet affectionate tone -


Tell me, mother, how long have l
been here, where is Colonel -"


{" Use been here three days, massa, so
sick you's ever since, wounded very worse
in de head, dere, now lie down and sleep,
bless yo', child, dere"


And the affectionate woman made him
himself for minute


" And who brought me here?" he re-
joined.


{" |, massa, you's wounded and fell
down, and carried you here, see dis, and
she drew from amid the leaves which
formed the bed broken sabre point up
on which was engraved = Captain G. l..
Cameon.


Long and earnestly did he gaze upon
the blade, his blood still clotted over the
sunken letters. Then he placed it be-
meath his pillow, murmuring indistinctly
to himself.


Where did you get this?" he resum-
ed.


"In the battle field, massa. You's' fell
down, hossman stood 10 over, but massa
killed him, and Use got the blade, would
mt let massas blood be lost dere, so me
took it and brought it here, de army is all
gone, and massa will go home, missus
Comill will be glad"


Where did the army 20, was Colonel
-w with it?"


Down by the great riber, run away
fast. Dere be none here since, Colonel
gone too, and hadn't seen massa fore he
went Me couldn't tell him you was
here, for men run dis way, and come in
de house and burnt ebery ting. Mes
sure de men looked for somebody, but
massa was asleep out in the grass, and
couldn't find him."


Then again he examined the broken
blade and sank into meditation. Nor did
his feature betray any dfidence whatever,
but on the contrary, keen and visible
pang yet added to the pallor of his face.
With an abrupt movement he rose from
his pillow and, with some degree of effort,
soon regained his feet His hand was
upon his heart, and he uttered dark and
porteDtious words, whose meaning and i'm
port none but himself knew. Then he
walked across the room, waving his arms
in every direction, as if. to ascertain the
amount Of manly strength yet remaining
in bis wasted form, and satisfying him
self that no real lack Of muscular power
was wanting he returned to his couch and
resumed his usual quetude.


Nance regarded him with open mouth
during the whole of this time, nor did
she essay to speak until he had composed
himself for few minutes. Then, as if
to come quietly to the import of his in
tentions, she said with much earnest
ness -


+" Massa in pain! Lor' o massy, be
with massa alters. Massa berry weak"


And she watched his face as she spoke,
but it only presented blank upon which
her keen and severe security could de-
pict nothing but composure. A quiet
serenity of countenance always follows