Daisy in the Field Part 16

"Yes, I know; but the North - will they take this as a settlement of the question?"

"The North!" echoed the Major. "Will they give up, you mean?

Not just yet! The Government does not feel like it. Do you?"

"I am so ignorant -" I answered.

"You must be, - pardon my saying so. Not at all. The sting of the whip will make us move faster. Orders are issued already for the reinforcement and reorganisation of the army. General McClellan is to take command here; and we will get things upon a new basis."

"Is McClellan the man we want?" Mrs. Sandford inquired.

"I cannot say. If he is not, we will wait for another."

"You are very cool, Major Fairbairn!" said the lady.

"It is the best plan, in July."

"But it is very hard to keep cool."

The major smiled and looked at me.

"What has Patterson been doing all this while?" I asked.

Smiles died out of the major's face.

"_He_ has kept cool," he said. "Easy - when a man never was warm."

"And you think, major," said Mrs. Sandford, "you really think that the truth is not so bad as it has been reported. Why, Mr.

May was positive the rebels would come and take Washington.

You think there has not been such dreadful loss of life after all?".

"A tenth of the story will be nearer the mark," said the major. "But we shall know more particulars to-morrow; and I will step in again, as I can, and let you know what I know. I must not stay now." And with a bow to me, the major went.

I did not stop then to inquire what his bow meant. Nor did I hear Mrs. Sandford's long string of comments and speculations, any further than was necessary to enable me to reply from time to time with some show of connectedness. I was eagerly calculating chances, without any basis of data to go upon.

Trying to conjecture General Patterson's probable coming duty, and to what it might lead. If his foe had disappeared from before him, must he not follow on this way, where (I thought) men were so imperatively needed? If he came, there would be fighting for him, certainly, the next time! Beauregard would muster again for the fray; I knew that; and it seemed the Union army was going to make ready also on its side. If Patterson and his command staid where he was, to take care of that part of the country, perhaps it might be a bloodless charge for a while; it might, till the two grand armies should encounter once more, and one or the other get the mastery.

Then, how long might it be, before these two armies would be ready to try another, a third tussle together? and would Mr.

Thorold be willing to stay permanently where inaction would be his portion? Twenty such incongruous unreasonable questions I was mooting and turning over, while Mrs. Sandford's running fire of talk made it impossible for me to think to any conclusion.

When I went up to my room, however, and got free of her, I sat down to it. There had been no fighting for this bout in that part of the army where Patterson commanded and where Thorold served. So far he had escaped. Now, if Patterson could only be kept in that region, for a little time, and the question between the North and South be brought to an issue meanwhile and decided here -

I was in a fever of hope and fear, cogitating deeply things which I had no means of knowing or settling, when the question suddenly occurred to me, What was I doing? What was I doing?

Only, trying to arrange the wheels of Providence; trying to make peace and war; to kill and to keep alive. I was taking and bearing on my shoulders the burden of the nation's armies and of their destiny. It fell on my heart all at once, what I was doing. And my nerves were straining, even now, to throw around my beloved the shield of circ.u.mstances; to keep him where he would be safe; to put my hand between his life and a blow. Could Daisy do that? Was her arm long enough, or her eye enough far-seeing? In despair and in humiliation both, I fell on my knees. _This_ must be given up. I must leave armies and battles, yes and every several bullet and cannon ball, yes, yes, and more; I must leave Mr. Thorold's life and heart in other hands than mine. I must put the care of them out of mine; I must give up even the thought of shielding him, or arranging for him. More. Yes, though it pressed upon my heart with the great difficulty, I must be willing to have G.o.d do, with him and with me, just what He pleased. How else could I live, with the struggle before me? How else could I live at all as a believing and obedient child of G.o.d? "I must," and "I will," are not words for a child to say.

My heart, my heart, how it died within me as I saw my duty! as I saw that it behoved me to give up all, and then wait in patience to see what the Lord would let me have. My heart died first, and then rose again to the struggle. But those only know what a struggle it is, who, have tried. It seems to me, most people, even Christians, do not try. Yet, to "forsake all," the test of discipleship, what is it but to cease saying "I must" and "I will," about anything, and to hold everything thenceforth at the will of G.o.d. I spent that night on my knees, when I was not walking the floor. I spent it in tears and in pleading the promises; sometimes almost in despair. But I reached at last a place of great calm. I gave up insisting upon my own will; and though with every nerve of affection throbbing, as it were, I gave up the care of myself and of Thorold; I gave up the disposal of the lives of both. And when the calm was once reached, it grew deeper and quieter, and the throbbing nerves were stilled, and a great burden was taken off my shoulders. And then, the sense of a love better than mine, and of a power stronger than mine, stole over my heart with an infinite sweetness; the parched and thirsty places of my spirit seemed to catch the dews of heaven; and still soothed and quieted more and more, I went to sleep with my head upon the bed's side, where I was kneeling.

CHAPTER VII.

DETAILED FOR DUTY

I awaked in the peace of one who has laid his burden down. My joints were a little stiff, from the position in which I had slept; my mind was set free. The charge of the rival armies and their conflicts was no longer on my shoulders; even the care of individual life and safety I thought no longer to secure. Myself I was a soldier, in a different army; and I had been forgetting my business and presuming into the General's province. No wonder my nerves were strained and my heart almost broken. That was now all given up; and I went through my morning duties in a quiet that was profound, if it was also very humble. I had found the only harbour of rest that can be found on the sh.o.r.es of this world; that one which is entered by paying the tribute of one's self-will. The tides of the great sea do not rise and fall there; the anchorage is good; the winds that weep over the waters bring balm with them; and the banner that floats at the entrance bears this inscription -

"He shall not be afraid of evil tidings; his heart is fixed, trusting in the Lord."

The first thing I heard from Mrs. Sandford was that he doctor was almost well, and would come down stairs after breakfast. I knew what that portended for me; thought I knew; but as I said, I had given up the management of myself and my concerns.

"If ye be not able to do that thing which is least, why take ye thought for the rest?" I got my worsted and sat down stairs at my work, to be ready to see the doctor when he should come.

Mrs. Sandford took post at the window; and so we waited. The weather to-day was clear and bright; the street full yet of motley groups, returned soldiers and gathered civilians, looking however far less dismal than the day before. Mrs.

Sandford from the window detailed all she saw; while my worsted needle went in and out to an interrupted refrain - "He shall not be afraid of evil tidings" - "Why take ye thought?"

Then Mrs. Sandford said, "Here comes the major, Daisy. It seems to me he is very attentive -" and in the major walked.

He gave his hand to me, and his eye glanced at the figure in the window. I could not help the thought that he wished it not there. But things too far down had been stirred in me, for a little surface matter like this to move my calm.

"What news, major?" my friend asked.

"Good. How do you do, Mrs. Sandford? I told you yesterday that it would be good."

"Yes, but how good is it, Major Fairbairn?"

"Fine."

"Well, go on and tell us. You are a nice major."

"Thank you. In the first place, as you may remember I said it would be, the lists of casualties are greatly reduced."

"Casualties?" said Mrs. Sandford. "What is that? I am learning so many new things."

"The lists of the killed and wounded."

"Oh! That is what a military man calls _casualties_, Daisy, my dear."

"It is the term in common use -" said the major, looking somewhat taken aback.

"I know. Pray, Major Fairbairn, have the officers of the army the reputation of making good husbands and heads of families?"

"I have always heard that they did," said the major, colouring a little and by no means free of his astonishment.

"I don't see how they can have any sympathy for little common heartaches and headaches, though, when to be run through the body is such a trifle. They can't, I think, major."

"But Mrs. Sandford -"

"For instance," the lady went on, unmercifully, - "for instance, Miss Randolph has her head taken off by a cannon ball. The doctor and I are desolate; but Major Fairbairn says it is a 'casualty.' Or, the doctor himself may be hit by a shot not intended for him, and put out of charge of his hospital for ever. Miss Randolph and I are in ashes; but our friend Major Fairbairn says it is only a 'casualty.' "

"But _friends_, Mrs. Sandford, -" the major began.

"Everybody has friends," said Mrs. Sandford. "I was reading in the paper just now a list of these little accidents. One man had his leg shattered by a minie ball; it killed him in a few hours. Another had a charge of grape-shot in his breast; it struck the spine. _He_ is dead. What is grape-shot, Major Fairbairn?"

The major hastily pa.s.sed to the sideboard in the other room and brought me a gla.s.s of water.