The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18, No. 107, September, 1866: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and PoliticsVarious
History
The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 18, No. 107, September, 1866: A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics
Various
American periodicals
She had no answer. The man was thinking, when she interrupted him, as
she was always doing, that, if he could secure the State and town
bounty, that would be some provision for the woman and child. As for
himself, he was indifferent as to where he was sent, or how soon. But if
he went away, they might look for him to come again. Gabriel's trumpet,
he thought, would be a more welcome sound than his wife's voice.
He enlisted. The bounties paid him were left in the hands of a trusty
neighbor, and were to be appropriated to the supply of his family's
needs; and he went away along with a boat-load of recruits,--his own man
no longer. Even his wife noticed the change in him, from the morning
when he put on his uniform and began to obey orders, for she had time to
notice. Several days elapsed after enlistment before the company's ranks
were complete, and the captain would not report at head-quarters, he
said, until his own townsfolk had supplied the number requisite.
_Even_ his wife noticed the change, I said; for, contrary to what is
usual and expected, she was not the first to perceive that the slow and
heavy step had now a spring in it, and that there was a light in his
clouded eyes. She supposed the new clothes made the difference.
Nearly a year had passed away, and this woman was leaning over the rail
fence which surrounded a barren field, and listening, while she leaned,
to the story of Ezra Cramer, just home from the war. She listened well,
even eagerly, to what he had to tell, and seemed moved by the account in
ways various as pride and indignation.
"I wish I had him here!" she said, when he had come to the end of his
story,--the story of her husband's promotion.
Ezra looked at her, and thought of the pretty girl she used to be, and
wondered how it happened that such a one could grow into a woman like
this. The vindictiveness of her voice accorded well with her
person,--expressed it. Where were her red cheeks? What had become of her
brown hair? She was once a free one at joking with, and rallying the
young men about; but now how like a virago she looked! and her tongue
was sharp as a two-edged sword.
Ezra was sorry that he had taken the trouble to ascertain in the village
where Nancy Elkins lived. Poor fellow! While enduring the hardships of
the past year, his imagination had transformed all the Dalton women into
angels, and the circuit of that small hamlet had become to his loving
thought as the circuit of Paradise.
Some degree of comprehension seemed to break upon him while he stood
gazing upon her, and he said: "O well, Miss Nancy, he's got his hands
full, and besides he didn't know I was coming home so quick. I didn't
know it myself till the last minute. He would 'a' sent some
message,--course he would!"
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