Such a short, hurried time, it seemed afterwards, before everything was
decided, all preparations made, and all the great changes, which at first
they thought would only prove temporary, settled down to a permanent
thing. The neighborhood, once so gay and bright and full of all that
makes life worth the living, was turned into a kind of camping ground
or recruiting station, and “White Point” was the nucleus around which
everything centered.
Mr. Tayloe was the leading spirit of the place, and no better-drilled
body of cavalry entered the service than the “Rockland Home Guards” under
his command, with Bobbie as his first lieutenant and Dr. Trevillian as
surgeon. “Grey Cliffs” was to be closed, with only the servants in their
quarters, to take charge of the place as long as they proved faithful,
and Dorothy was established with Bobbie’s mother. Her aunt had left for
the city, where, she said sadly, she knew there would be plenty to do
after awhile, and soon the beautiful old home had a dreary, deserted
look, for the shadow of coming sorrow was hovering over it.
Bobbie had begged hard to be married before he should start for what
might perhaps be an interminable absence, but Dr. Trevillian was firm in
his refusal for a year longer at least.
“I am giving you the light of my life, Bobbie,” he said, putting his
hand on the young man’s shoulder, as he stood pleading his cause, just
two days before they received orders to join H.’s regiment at C—, “and
you must wait, my man, until she is a little older—she is so young yet!
Perhaps”—he cleared his throat and went on after a minute—“perhaps,
after I leave here, I may never come back; but remember always, that my
daughter’s happiness is in your power, and that I put into your hands the
most sacred trust one man can give another. I charge you to guard it
well.”
Bobbie bared his head as a knight of old. “So help me God,” he said
reverently, “I shall be worthy of it.” They shook hands in silence and
separated.
It was the night before they were to start. Mr. Tayloe and his wife were
shut in their room. The Doctor was in the library writing some final
directions to be sent over to “Grey Cliffs,” and Bobbie and Dorothy were
out on the lawn, under the old wishing-tree down by the gate. Every
preparation for departure had been made, and the start was to occur at
five the next morning. Peter Black was in an ecstasy of delight because
he was to accompany his young master as his body-servant, and Sallie Tom
was in the depths of stern and silent indignation and despair at the turn
affairs had taken.
She now had her son down in the cabin for final admonitions as to the
duties and obligations resting upon him, and for renewed charges that
no matter where they might be, in case anything happened to the young
master, he was to bring him home, if possible; if not, he was to come
himself and tell her that she might go to him.
Bobbie and Dorothy were silent for a long time, down under the old
wishing-tree, for neither could trust themselves to speak of the things
nearest their hearts, but after awhile Bobbie began to talk of the orders
received the day before. “If it were not for leaving you and mother,”
he said, “if it weren’t for that continual nightmare hanging over me, I
think I should enjoy going more than anything on earth. We have talked,
and argued, and discussed all this so long that I am glad the time has
come to fight it out; it is the only way to settle it, and the sooner
begun the sooner ended.”
Dorothy answered slowly, and after a long pause: “Yes, I know it is the
only way to settle it, but it is a horrible price that must be paid for
the final decision. Ah, I understand how you feel, but you are going
into it, into the danger, into work, into action—and—I know—into death,
too, perhaps,” and her voice shook a little, “but it is so much harder
for us—we who have to stay here—who must sit day after day—waiting to
hear. Of course, I can knit socks, and tear strips, and make bandages
to send to the city; but what can I do to make myself forget for one
single moment that you may be needing me—or father?”—and she broke down
in a genuine sob, and then in a minute she slipped away from him. “You
will think me a coward—and I know I am not that—see, I have brought you
something—you must keep it, and read it, and be the man it can make you,”
and she put in his hands a tiny pocket Testament, on the inside of which
she had pasted a small picture of herself.
“That will be my talisman,” he said, kissing it reverently, and putting
it in his inner pocket, “and will keep me from harm, please God.”
They talked until the night grew late and chill, and then he put his
arms around her for a last good-bye. The winds shivered in the tops of
the trees, and the whip-poor-wills ’way down by the brook were calling
plaintively to each other, and the moon slipped under a cloud, and only
the stars looked down and saw the sorrow that filled their brave young
hearts.
They were gone, and Dorothy and Bobbie’s mother turned from the porch,
from which they had watched as long as possible, and went inside, not
daring to speak, lest all the long-controlled feeling they had been
struggling to conceal should reveal itself at last.
They took up their new life courageously, and the influence of each was
great, both in the home and in the neighborhood; but it was not long
before trouble began to appear among the servants, and, as time went on,
greater and greater discontent became evident.
It was not until news of the first battle reached them that the horror of
it all made itself felt in full force to Dorothy. She had heard that a
battle must take place soon; and when Bobbie’s letter came, telling her
he hoped and prayed his regiment would have the honor of being allowed
to go into the first fight, her heart sank in miserable misgivings.
She wrote him, however, that if he were sent into this battle, she knew
the honor of old Rockland would be safe, and not by a single word did she
tell him how torturing was the anxiety, or how, all night long, she had
knelt at her window and prayed God to protect and keep him safe.
Not for ten days did she hear again, and then came such a battered and
soiled old envelope that the address was almost unreadable. It was very
short, and written in pencil on a scrap of paper torn from a note-book,
and ran as follows:
“DEAR DOROTHY—We are drawn up in line of battle, facing the
enemy, and waiting the signal to charge. I am using my cap to
write on. I don’t know how it is going to be. I only know we
are going to fight like our women expect us; and now, before
it begins, I am trying to send you a word to tell you that the
thought of you makes me dare all things. I am going to put
this in my pocket. Peter Black knows what I want done in case
I don’t send it myself. Tell mother she shall not be ashamed
of her son. My love to her, and for you, little sweetheart, God
bless you, and make me worthy of you!
“BOBBIE.”
Peter Black found it in his pocket, where he had been directed to look;
and though Bobbie declared it was only a scratch, it kept him close for a
week, and Peter Black’s powers as a nurse were tested pretty well in that
time.
It was shortly after this that Bobbie was appointed General H.’s special
scout. His well-known absence of fear, his reckless daring, together with
his wonderful ability to ferret his way through any section of country,
and his marvelous endurance, had already attracted the attention of his
regiment, and soon it became a common matter to send for him when the
situation demanded unusual haste and caution.