"How brave and devoted you have been," said Rachel warmly, as Aunt Debby concluded her modestly-told story."No man could have done better.""No, honey," replied the elder woman, with her wan face coloring faintly, "I've done nothin' but my plain duty, ez I seed hit.I've done nothin' ter what THEY would've done had n't they been taken from me afore they had a chance.Like one who speaks ter us in the Book, I've been in journeyin's often, in peril of robbers, in perils of mine own countrymen, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in weariness an' painfulness, in watchings often, in hunger an' thirst, in fastings often, in cold an' nakedness, but he warns us not ter glory in these things, but in those which consarn our infirmities.""How great should be your reward!"
"Don't speak of reward.I only want my freedom when I've 'arned hit--the freedom ter leave an 'arth on which I've been left behind, an' go whar my husband an' son are waitin' fur me."She rose and paced the floor, with her face and eyes shining.
"Have you no fear of death whatever?" asked Rachel in amazement.
"Fear of death! Child, why should I fear death? Why should Ifear death, more than the unborn child fears birth? Both are the same.Hit can't be fur ter thet other world whar THEY wait fur me.Hit is not even ez a journey ter the next town--hit's only one little step though the curtain o' green grass an' violets on a sunny hillside--only one little step."She turned abruptly, and going back to her chair by the fireside, seated herself in it, and clasping her knees with her hands, rocked back and forth, and sang in a low, sweet croon:
"Oh, the rapturous, transporting scene, That rises ter my sight;Sweet fields arrayed in livin' green, An' rivers of delight.
"All o'er those wide, extended plains Shines one eternal day;Thar God, the Son, forever reigns, An scatters night away.
"No chillin' winds or poisonous breath Kin reach thet healthful shore;Sickness an' sorrow, pain an' death, Are felt an' feared no more."After dark Fortner came in.Both women studied his face eagerly as he walked up to the fire.
"Nothin' yet, honey," he said to Aunt Debby, and "Nothin' yet, Miss," to Rachel, and after a little stay went out.
When Rachel awoke the next morning the sky was lowering darkly.On going to the window she found a most depressing change from the scene of bright merriment she had studied the night before.A chill Winter rain was falling with dreary persistence, pattering on the dead leaves that covered the ground, and soaking into the sodden earth.A few forlorn little birds hopped wearily about, searching in vain in the dry husks and empty insect shells for the food that had once been so plentiful there.Up and down the streets, as far as she could see, men in squads or singly, under officers or without organization, plodded along dejectedly, taking the cold drench from above, and the clinging mud around their feet, with the dumb, stolid discontent characteristic of seasoned veterans.
When mules and horses went by they seemed poor and shrunken.They drew their limbs and bodies together, as if to present the least surface to the inclement showers, and their labored, toilsome motion contrasted painfully with their strong, free movement on brighter days.Everything and everybody in sight added something to increase the dismalness of the view, and as Rachel continued to gaze upon it the "horrors" took possession of her.She began to brood wretchedly over her position as a spy inside the enemy's lines, and upon all the consequences of that position.
It was late that night when Fortner came in.As he entered the two expectant women saw, by the ruddy light of the fire, that his face was set and his eyes flashing.He hung his dripping hat on a peg in the chimney, and kicked the blazing logs with his wet boots until a flood of meteor sparks flew up the throat of the fireplace.
Turning, he said, without waiting to be questioned:
"Well, the hunt's begun at last.Our folks came out'n Nashville this morning in three big armies, marchin' on different roads, an they begun slashin' at the Rebels wherever they could find 'em.
Thar's been fouten at Triune an' Lavergne, an' all along the line.
They histed the Rebels out'n ther holes everywhar, an' druv' em back on the jump.Wagon load arter wagon load o' wounded's comin'
back.I come in ahead of a long train agwine ter the hospital.
Hark! ye kin heah 'em now."
The women listened.
They heard the ceaseless patter and swish of the gloomy rain--the gusty sighs of the wind through the shade-trees' naked branches--louder still the rolling of heavy wheels over the rough streets; and all these were torn and rent by the shrieks of men in agony.
"Poor fellows," said Rachel, "how they are suffering!""Think ruther," said Aunt Debby calmly, "of how they've made others suffer.Hit's God's judgement on 'em."Rachel turned to Fortner."What will come next? Will this end it? Will the Rebels fall back and leave this place?""Hardly.This's on'y like the fust slap in the face in a fight atween two big savage men, who've locked horns ter see which is the best man.Hit's on'y a sorter limberin' the jints fur the death rassel.""Yes; and what next?"
"Well, Rosy's started fur this 'ere place, an' he's bound ter come heah.Bragg's bound he sha'n't come heah, an' is gittin' his men back to defend the town.""What am I--what are we to do in the meanwhile?""Ye're ter do nothin', on'y stay in the house ez close ez ye kin, an' wait tell the chance comes ter use ye.Hit may be ter-morrer, an' hit mayn't be fur some days.These army moves are mouty unsartin.Aunt Debby 'll take keer on ye, an' ye 'll not be in a mite o' danger.""But we'll see you frequently?"
"Ez offen ez I kin arrange hit.I'm actin' ez orderly an'
