He was ordered to Louisville and
Lexington on recruiting service. And the cholera was known to be
epidemic but a few miles from Lexington.
The good-by scene that night at the lovers' trysting place, the little
tent reception-room of the McCreas', was long and tender and solemn.
"Oh, I feel dreadful about this trip, dear," his sweetheart kept
repeating with pitiful despair that refused to be comforted.
"You must be brave, my own," he answered with a frown. "A soldier's
business is to die. I am a soldier. I go where duty calls--"
"To battle--yes--but this black pestilence that comes in the night--I'm
afraid--I just can't help it--I'm afraid. I've always had a horror of
such things. I've a presentiment that you'll die that way--"
"Presentiments and dreams go by opposites. I'll live to a ripe old
age--"
She looked up into his face with a tender smile:
"You think so?"
"Yes, why not?"
"Well--I've something to tell you--"
She paused and the man bent low.
"What?"
"I've made a vow to God--" the voice stopped with a sob--"that if He
will only send you safely back to me this time--I'll wait no longer on
my father's whim--I am yours--"
The lover clasped her trembling form to his heart.
"Good-by, dearest," he said at last.
Pages:
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80