United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
Before the agitated lady could recover herself, Miss Lou ran to her
room and returned with a scarf which answered the purpose.
"Oh, you deign to do something for me?" he said bitterly.
"Come, cousin," she replied, "since I have not lost my senses after
what's happened it's time you regained yours."
"Thank you, my dear," said his mother fervently, as she adjusted the
support for the disabled arm. "Yes, I trust that we may all regain our
senses, and, if we outlive these scenes, begin to act as if we were
sane."
"There, that will do," he said impatiently. "I must go now, for I have
important duties," and he hastened away.
Meantime General Marston had sent word through his picket line that he
would not interfere with the care of the wounded and that the dwelling
would not be fired upon if used as a hospital. He accompanied this
assurance with the offer of medical stores, coffee, sugar and the
services of two surgeons. The Confederate general accepted the offer.
The trembling negroes were routed out of their quarters, and compelled
more or less reluctantly to help bring in the wounded. Uncle Lusthah
showed no hesitancy in the humane work and soon inspired those over
whom he had influence with much of his spirit. It had been a terribly
anxious day for him and those about him. Hope had ebbed and flowed
alternately until night, when the day which seemed to him the dawning
of the millennium ended as he imagined the world might end. Now,
however, he was comforted in the performance of good works, and he
breathed words of Christian hope into more than one dying ear that
night.
Perkins, the overseer, was animated by a very different spirit. At the
first alarm of Scoville's return in the morning he had dashed into the
grove, and next concealed himself on a distant eminence from which he
could watch events. Under the cover of darkness he returned, and
experienced grim satisfaction when he discovered the hated Union
officer among the prisoners.
As Whately was making his final arrangements for the night, Perkins
touched his arm saying, "Leftenant, I'll help watch that Yank thar"
(pointing to Scoville). "They say he's ez slip'ry ez a eel."
"Do so, Perkins. We both have a heavy score to settle with him. At
daylight I'll send him where he won't fare as well as he did on this
plantation."
"Is your arm woun'ed?"
"No, only sprained, but it pains like the devil. Watch that Yank well.
I'd rather they all got away than he."
"He'll never get away alive," was the ominous reply.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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