Christie followed David in a week, and soon proved herself socapable that Mrs. Amory rapidly promoted her from one important postto another, and bestowed upon her the only honors left the women,hard work, responsibility, and the gratitude of many men.

 

　　"You are a treasure, my dear, for you can turn your hand to anything and do well whatever you undertake. So many come with plentyof good-will, but not a particle of practical ability, and areoffended because I decline their help. The boys don't want to becried over, or have their brows 'everlastingly swabbed,' as oldWatkins calls it: they want to be well fed and nursed, and cheeredup with creature comforts. Your nice beef-tea and cheery ways areworth oceans of tears and cart-loads of tracts."Mrs. Amory said this, as Christie stood waiting while she wrote anorder for some extra delicacy for a very sick patient. Mrs.

 

　　Sterling, Jr., certainly did look like an efficient nurse, whothought more of "the boys" than of herself; for one hand bore apitcher of gruel, the other a bag of oranges, clean shirts hung overthe right arm, a rubber cushion under the left, and every pocket inthe big apron was full of bottles and bandages, papers and letters.

 

　　"I never discovered what an accomplished woman I was till I camehere," answered Christie, laughing. "I'm getting vain with so muchpraise, but I like it immensely, and never was so pleased in my lifeas I was yesterday when Dr. Harvey came for me to take care of poorDunbar, because no one else could manage him.""It's your firm yet pitiful way the men like so well. I can'tdescribe it better than in big Ben's words: 'Mis Sterlin' is thenuss for me, marm. She takes care of me as ef she was my own mother,and it's a comfort jest to see her round.' It's a gift, my dear, andyou may thank heaven you have got it, for it works wonders in aplace like this.""I only treat the poor fellows as I would have other women treat myDavid if he should be in their care. He may be any hour, you know.""And my boys, God keep them!"The pen lay idle, and the gruel cooled, as young wife andgray-haired mother forgot their duty for a moment in tender thoughtsof the absent. Only a moment, for in came an attendant with atroubled face, and an important young surgeon with the well-wornlittle case under his arm.

 

　　"Bartlett 's dying, marm: could you come and see to him?" says theman to Mrs. Amory.

 

　　"We have got to amputate Porter's arm this morning, and he won'tconsent unless you are with him. You will come, of course?" addedthe surgeon to Christie, having tried and found her a woman with no"confounded nerves" to impair her usefulness.

 

　　So matron and nurse go back to their duty, and dying Bartlett andsuffering Porter are all the more tenderly served for that wastedminute.

 

　　Like David, Christie had enlisted for the war, and in the two yearsthat followed, she saw all sorts of service; for Mrs. Amory hadinfluence, and her right-hand woman, after a few months'

 

　　apprenticeship, was ready for any post. The gray gown and comfortingface were known in many hospitals, seen on crowded transports, amongthe ambulances at the front, invalid cars, relief tents, and fooddepots up and down the land, and many men went out of life liketired children holding the hand that did its work so well.

 

　　David meanwhile was doing his part manfully, not only in some of thegreat battles of those years, but among the hardships, temptations,and sacrifices of a soldiers' life. Spite of his Quaker ancestors,he was a good fighter, and, better still, a magnanimous enemy,hating slavery, but not the slave-holder, and often spared themaster while he saved the chattel. He was soon promoted, and mighthave risen rapidly, but was content to remain as captain of hiscompany; for his men loved him, and he was prouder of his influenceover them than of any decoration he could win.

 

　　His was the sort of courage that keeps a man faithful to death, andthough he made no brilliant charge, uttered few protestations ofloyalty, and was never heard to "damn the rebs," his comrades feltthat his brave example had often kept them steady till a forlornhope turned into a victory, knew that all the wealth of the worldcould not bribe him from his duty, and learned of him to treat withrespect an enemy as brave and less fortunate than themselves. Anoble nature soon takes its proper rank and exerts its purifyinginfluence, and Private Sterling won confidence, affection, andrespect, long before promotion came; for, though he had tended hisflowers like a woman and loved his books like a student, he nowproved that he could also do his duty and keep his honor stainlessas a soldier and a gentleman.

 

　　He and Christie met as often as the one could get a brief furlough,or the other be spared from hospital duty; but when these meetingsdid come, they were wonderfully beautiful and rich, for into themwas distilled a concentration of the love, happiness, and communionwhich many men and women only know through years of wedded life.

 

　　Christie liked romance, and now she had it, with a very sombrereality to give it an added charm. No Juliet ever welcomed her Romeomore joyfully than she welcomed David when he paid her a flyingvisit unexpectedly; no Bayard ever had a more devoted lady in histent than David, when his wife came through every obstacle to bringhim comforts or to nurse the few wounds he received. Love-letters,written beside watch-fires and sick-beds, flew to and fro likecarrier-doves with wondrous speed; and nowhere in all the brave andbusy land was there a fonder pair than this, although theirhoneymoon was spent apart in camp and hospital, and well they knewthat there might never be for them a happy going home together.

 

　　In her wanderings to and fro, Christie not only made many newfriends, but met some old ones; and among these one whose unexpectedappearance much surprised and touched her.

 

　　She was "scrabbling" eggs in a tin basin on board a crowdedtransport, going up the river with the echoes of a battle dying awaybehind her, and before her the prospect of passing the next day on awharf serving out food to the wounded in an easterly storm.

 

　　"O Mrs. Sterling, do go up and see what's to be done! We are allfull below, and more poor fellows are lying about on deck in adreadful state. I'll take your place here, but I can't stand thatany longer," said one of her aids, coming in heart-sick andexhausted by the ghastly sights and terrible confusion of the day.

 

　　"I'll go: keep scrabbling while the eggs last, then knock out thehead of that barrel and make gruel till I pass the word to stop."Forgetting her bonnet, and tying the ends of her shawl behind her,Christie caught up a bottle of brandy and a canteen of water, andran on deck. There a sight to daunt most any woman, met her eyes;for all about her, so thick that she could hardly step withouttreading on them, lay the sad wrecks of men: some moaning for help;some silent, with set, white faces turned up to the gray sky; allshelterless from the cold wind that blew, and the fog rising fromthe river. Surgeons and nurses were doing their best; but the boatwas loaded, and greater suffering reigned below.

 

　　"Heaven help us all!" sighed Christie, and then she fell to work.

 

　　Bottle and canteen were both nearly empty by the time she came tothe end of the long line, where lay a silent figure with a hiddenface. "Poor fellow, is he dead?" she said, kneeling down to lift acorner of the blanket lent by a neighbor.

 

　　A familiar face looked up at her, and a well remembered voice saidcourteously, but feebly:

 

　　"Thanks, not yet. Excuse my left hand. I'm very glad to see you.""Mr. Fletcher, can it be you!" she cried, looking at him withpitiful amazement. Well she might ask, for any thing more unlike hisformer self can hardly be imagined. Unshaven, haggard, and begrimedwith powder, mud to the knees, coat half on, and, worst of all, theright arm gone, there lay the "piece of elegance" she had known, andanswered with a smile she never saw before:

 

　　"All that's left of me, and very much at your service. I mustapologize for the dirt, but I've laid in a mud-puddle for two days;and, though it was much easier than a board, it doesn't improveone's appearance.""What can I do for you? Where can I put you? I can't bear to see youhere!" said Christie, much afflicted by the spectacle before her.

 

　　"Why not? we are all alike when it comes to this pass. I shall dovery well if I might trouble you for a draught of water."She poured her last drop into his parched mouth and hurried off formore. She was detained by the way, and, when she returned, fanciedhe was asleep, but soon discovered that he had fainted quietly away,utterly spent with two days of hunger, suffering, and exposure. Hewas himself again directly, and lay contentedly looking up at her asshe fed him with hot soup, longing to talk, but refusing to listento a word till he was refreshed.

 

　　"That's very nice," he said gratefully, as he finished, adding witha pathetic sort of gayety, as he groped about with his one hand: "Idon't expect napkins, but I should like a handkerchief. They took mycoat off when they did my arm, and the gentleman who kindly lent methis doesn't seem to have possessed such an article."Christie wiped his lips with the clean towel at her side, and smiledas she did it, at the idea of Mr. Fletcher's praising burnt soup,and her feeding him like a baby out of a tin cup.

 

　　"I think it would comfort you if I washed your face: can you bear tohave it done?" she asked.

 

　　"If you can bear to do it," he answered, with an apologetic look,evidently troubled at receiving such services from her.

 

　　Yet as her hands moved gently about his face, he shut his eyes, andthere was a little quiver of the lips now and then, as if he wasremembering a time when he had hoped to have her near him in atenderer capacity than that of nurse. She guessed the thought, andtried to banish it by saying cheerfully as she finished:

 

　　"There, ............