It was impossible to write to John under such conditions and she had suffered in silence. And then the wounded began to pour into Washington from Grant's front. The like of that procession of ambulances from the landing on Sixth Street to the hospitals on the hills back of the city had never been seen. The wounded men were brought on swift steamers from Aquia Creek3. Floors and decks were covered with mattresses4 on which they lay as thickly as they could be placed. As the wounded died on the way they were moved to the bow and their faces covered.
At the landing tender hands were lifting them into the ambulances which slowly moved out in one line to the hospitals and back in a circle by another. These ambulances stretched in tragic5, unbroken procession for three miles and never ceased to move on and on in an endless circle for three days and nights.
In an agony of anxiety Betty asked to be transferred to the landing that she might watch them fill the wagons6. Her soul was oppressed with the certainty that John Vaughan would be found in one of them.
On the morning of the third day they were still coming in never-ending streams from the steamer decks. She wrung7 her hands in a moment of despair:
"Merciful God! Are they bringing back Grant's whole army?"
The patience of these suffering men was sublime8. Only a sigh from one who would rise no more. Only a groan9 here and there from parched10 lips that asked for water.
At last came the ominous11 news for which she had watched and waited with sickening forebodings. The Republican printed the name of Captain John Vaughan among the wounded in the fight of Warren and Hancock's corps12 over the Weldon Railroad. There were only two thousand wounded men sent in on the steamers from the front after this battle, and they arrived at night.
Betty hurried to the landing and found that the ambulances had begun to move. She searched every face in vain, and when the last stretcher had passed out walked with trembling steps and scanned each silent covered face in the bow.
"Thank God," she murmured, "he's not there!"
She must begin now the patient search among the eighty thousand sick and wounded men in the city of sorrows on the hills.
She secured a hack13 and tried to reach the head of the procession and find the destination of the first wagons that had left before her arrival.
It was after midnight. A thunder storm suddenly rolled its dense14 clouds over the city and smothered15 the street lamps in a pall16 of darkness. The rain burst with a flash of lightning and poured in torrents17. The electric display was awe18-inspiring. The horses in one of the ambulances in the long line stampeded and smashed the vehicle in front. The procession was stopped in the height of the storm. The vivid flame was now continuous and Betty could see the wagons standing19 in a mud-splashed row for a mile, the lightning play bringing out in startling outline each horse and vehicle.
From every ambulance was hanging a fringe of curious objects shining white against the shadows when suddenly illumined. Betty looked in pity and awe. They were the burning fevered arms and legs and heads of the suffering wounded men eager to feel the splash of the cooling rain.
A full week passed before her search ended and she located him in one of the big new buildings hastily constructed of boards.
With trembling step she started to go straight to his cot. The memory of his brutal20 stare that day stopped her and she scribbled21 a line and sent it to him:
"John, dear, may I see you a moment?
"Betty."
The doctor assured her that he was rapidly recovering, though restless and depressed22. She caught her breath in a little gasp23 of surprise at the sight of his white face, pale and spiritual looking now from the loss of blood.
Her eyes were shining with intense excitement as she swiftly crossed the room, dropped on her knees beside his cot and seized his hands:
"O John, John, can you ever forgive me!"
He slipped his arm around her neck and held her a long time in silence.
The men in the room paid no attention to the little drama. It was happening every day around them.
"Oh, dearest," she went on eagerly, "I tried to put you out of my heart, but I couldn't. I am yours, all yours, body and soul. Love asks but one question—do you love me?"
"Forever!" he whispered.
"In my loneliness and despair I tried to give myself to Ned, but I couldn't, dear. I would have told him so had I been able to reach him—though I dreaded24 to hurt him."
John drew her hands down and looked at her with a strange expression.
"He's beyond the reach of pain and disappointment now, dear——"
"Dead?" she gasped25.
The man only nodded, and clung desperately26 to her hands while her head sank in a flood of tears.
"We'll cherish his memory," he said in a curiously27 quiet voice, "as one of the sweetest bonds between us, my love——"
"Yes—always!" was the low answer.
For the life of him John Vaughan couldn't tell the terrible fact that his hand had struck him down. God alone should know that.
When she had recovered from the shock of the announcement Betty caressed28 his hand gently:
"We just love whom we love, dearest, and we can't help it. I am yours and you are mine. It's not a question of good or bad, right or wrong. We love—that's all."
"Yes, we love—that's all and it's everything. There's no more doubt, dear?"
"Not one," she cried. "I'm going to bring back the red blood to your cheeks now and take that fevered look out of your eyes——"
The weeks of convalescence29 were swift and beautiful to Betty—her ministry30 to his slightest whim31 a continuous joy. The only cloud in her sky was the strange, feverish32, unquiet look in his eyes. On the day of his discharge he received a letter from his mother which deepened this expression to the verge33 of mania34.
"What is it, dear?" Betty asked in alarm.
"One of those unfortunate things that have been happening somewhere every day for the past year—an arrest and imprisonment35 for treasonable utterances——"
"Who has been arrested?"
"This time my father in Missouri."
"Your father?" she gasped.
"Yes. He has been a bitter critic of the war. He seems to have gone too far. There was a riot of some sort in the village and he took the wrong side."
There was an ominous quiet in the way he talked.
"I'll take you to see the President, dearest," she said soothingly36. "We'll ask for his release. It's sure to be granted."
John's eyes suddenly flashed.
"You think so?"
"Absolutely sure of it."
"We'll try it then," he said, with a cold ring in his voice that chilled Betty's heart, and sent her home wondering at its meaning.
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1
chivalrous
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| adj.武士精神的；对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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2
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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4
mattresses
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| 褥垫，床垫( mattress的名词复数 ) | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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7
wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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8
sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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10
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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corps
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| n.(通信等兵种的)部队；(同类作的)一组 | |
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13
hack
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| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
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14
dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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15
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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17
torrents
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| n.倾注；奔流( torrent的名词复数 )；急流；爆发；连续不断 | |
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18
awe
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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scribbled
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| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
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22
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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24
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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25
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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26
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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28
caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
convalescence
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| n.病后康复期 | |
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30
ministry
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| n.(政府的)部；牧师 | |
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31
whim
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| n.一时的兴致，突然的念头；奇想，幻想 | |
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32
feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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33
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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34
mania
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| n.疯狂；躁狂症，狂热，癖好 | |
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35
imprisonment
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| n.关押，监禁，坐牢 | |
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36
soothingly
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| adv.抚慰地，安慰地；镇痛地 | |
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