CHAPTER XVIII.
HOW HE LIVED IN THE MEMORY OF HIS FRIENDS.
"Colonel Parker, mortally wounded and left on the field." So read theaccount of the battle in the newspapers,--which told of the disaster tothe army,--how the lines were broken, how the cannon were lost, how Paulwas shot through the breast, how, had it not been for General Thomas, itwould have been a day of utter ruin. Father Surplice went up to thelittle old house to break the sad tidings to Paul's mother, for he couldbest give comfort and consolation in time of affliction.
"I have sad news," he said. She saw it in his face, even before hespoke, and knew that something terrible had happened. "A great battlehas been fought, and God has seen fit that your son should die for hiscountry."
She made no outcry, but the tears glistened in her eyes. She wiped themaway, and calmly replied: "I gave him freely to the country and to God.I know that he was a dutiful, affectionate son. I am not sorry that Ilet him go." Then with clasped hands she looked upward, through herblinding tears, and thanked God that Paul had been faithful, honest,true, and good.
The neighbors came in to comfort her, but were surprised to find her socalm, and to hear her say, "It is well."
It was a gloomy day in New Hope,--in the stores and shops, and in theschool-house, for the children affectionately remembered their oldteacher. When the sexton tolled the bell, they bowed their heads andwept bitter tears. Mr. Chrome laid down his paint-brush and sat withfolded hands, saying, "I can't work." Colonel Dare dashed a tear fromhis eye, and said, "So slavery takes our noblest and best." He walkeddown to the little old house and said to Mrs. Parker, "You never shallwant while I have a cent left." Judge Adams came, and with much emotionasked, "What can I do for you?"
"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down ingreen pastures, he leadeth me beside the still waters," she replied, socalmly that the Judge felt that she was the strong one and he the weak.
When Azalia heard the news the rose-bloom faded from her cheeks and herheart stood still. In imagination she saw Paul lying on the ground, withblood flowing from his side, enduring dreadful agony, while waiting thecoming of death. She could hardly think of him as gone, never to return,yet the church-bell was tolling mournfully, gone, gone, gone! Sheclasped her hands upon her heart to keep it from bursting.
"Be comforted, my child. He has gone to a better world than this," saidher mother, sympathizing in her sorrow.
Daphne came in, and bathed Azalia's burning brow, kissed her tenderly,and said, "Don't cry, dear."
Azalia was not weeping,--there were no tears in her eyes. God had notwiped them all away, but the great and sudden affliction was like theheat of a fiery furnace. It had dried the fountains. Though her motherand Daphne were so kind and tender, they could not take away herheart-ache. It was a weary day. She sat by the window and gazed upon thewheat-fields, brown and bare, for it was almost October, and the reapershad gathered the grain. Beyond the fields was the river, shrunk to anarrow bed by the heats of summer. Dead leaves were floating down thestream. Like the _Miserere_ which the choir chanted at the funeral of asweet young girl before Paul went to the army, was the murmuring of thewater. Beyond the river were green meadows and gardens and orchards,where dahlias were blooming, and grapes and apples ripening in themellow sunshine. She thought of Paul as having passed over the river,and as walking in the vineyard of the Lord. The summer flowers which shehad planted in her own garden were faded, the stalks were dry, and theleaves withered. They never would bloom again. Like them, the brightnessof her life had passed away.
Night brought no relief. It seemed as if her heart would break, but sheremembered what Jesus said: "Come unto me and I will give you rest." Shetold Him all her grief, asked Him to help her, inasmuch as He was ableto bear the sorrows of all the world. So confiding in Him, sheexperienced indescribable peace of mind.
Then in the evening they who walked along the street stopped andlistened by the gate to hear the music which floated out through theopen window, bowing their heads, and in silence wiping away their tears.It was the music of the "Messiah," which Handel composed. She sung it inchurch one Sunday before Paul went to the army, and Father Surplice saidit set him to thinking about the music of heaven; but now to the passersin the street it was as if Jesus called them, so sweet and tender wasthe song.
It was consoling to take from her bureau the letters which Paul hadwritten, and read again what she had read many times,--to look upon thelaurel-leaf which he plucked in the woods at Donelson, thelocust-blossoms which he gathered at Shiloh, the moss-rose which grew ina garden at Vicksburg,--to read his noble and manly words of hisdetermination to do his duty in all things.
"Life is worth nothing," read one of the letters, "unless devoted tonoble ends. I thank God that I live in this age, for there never hasbeen so great an opportunity to do good. The heroes of all ages, thosewho have toiled and suffered to make the world better, are looking downfrom the past to see if I am worthy to be of their number. I can see themillions yet to come beckoning me to do my duty for their sake. Theywill judge me. What answer can I give them if I falter?"
Thus in her sorrow Azalia found some comfort in looking at the fadedflowers, and in reflecting that he had not faltered in the hour oftrial, but had proved himself worthy to be numbered with the heroicdead.
Winning His Way Page 18