Iola Leroy Frances Ellen Watkins Harper (classic literature list txt) 📖

tenderly, looked wistfully into her face, and said, “Miss Iola, I ain’t long fer dis! I’se ’most home!”

“Oh, no,” said Iola, “I hope that you will soon get over this trouble, and live many long and happy days.”

“No, Miss Iola, it’s all ober wid me. I’se gwine to glory; gwine to glory; gwine to ring dem charmin’ bells. Tell all de boys to meet me in heben; dat dey mus’ ’list in de hebenly war.”

“O, Mr. Tom,” said Iola, tenderly, “do not talk of leaving me. You are the best friend I have had since I was torn from my mother. I should be so lonely without you.”

“Dere’s a frien’ dat sticks closer dan a brudder. He will be wid yer in de sixt’ trial, an’ in de sebbent’ he’ll not fo’sake yer.”

“Yes,” answered Iola, “I know that. He is all our dependence. But I can’t help grieving when I see you suffering so. But, dear friend, be quiet, and try to go to sleep.”

“I’ll do enythin’ fer yer, Miss Iola.”

Tom closed his eyes and lay quiet. Tenderly and anxiously Iola watched over him as the hours waned away. The doctor came, shook his head gravely, and, turning to Iola, said, “There is no hope, but do what you can to alleviate his sufferings.”

As Iola gazed upon the kind but homely features of Tom, she saw his eyes open and an unexpressed desire upon his face.

Tenderly and sadly bending over him, with tears in her dark, luminous eyes, she said, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes,” said Tom, with laboring breath; “let me hole yore han’, an’ sing ‘Ober Jordan inter glory’ an’ ‘We’ll anchor bye and bye.’ ”

Iola laid her hand gently in the rough palm of the dying man, and, with a tremulous voice, sang the parting hymns.

Tenderly she wiped the death damps from his dusky brow, and imprinted upon it a farewell kiss. Gratitude and affection lit up the dying eye, which seemed to be gazing into the eternities. Just then Robert entered the room, and, seating himself quietly by Tom’s bedside, read the death signs in his face.

“Goodbye, Robert,” said Tom, “meet me in de kingdom.” Suddenly a look of recognition and rapture lit up his face, and he murmured, “Angels, bright angels, all’s well, all’s well!”

Slowly his hand released its pressure, a peaceful calm overspread his countenance, and without a sigh or murmur Thomas Anderson, Iola’s faithful and devoted friend, passed away, leaving the world so much poorer for her than it was before. Just then Dr. Gresham, the hospital physician, came to the bedside, felt for the pulse which would never throb again, and sat down in silence by the cot.

“What do you think, Doctor,” said Iola, “has he fainted?”

“No,” said the doctor, “poor fellow! he is dead.”

Iola bowed her head in silent sorrow, and then relieved the anguish of her heart by a flood of tears. Robert rose, and sorrowfully left the room.

Iola, with tearful eyes and aching heart, clasped the cold hands over the still breast, closed the waxen lid over the eye which had once beamed with kindness or flashed with courage, and then went back, after the burial, to her daily round of duties, feeling the sad missing of something from her life.

VIII The Mystified Doctor

“Colonel,” said Dr. Gresham to Col. Robinson, the commander of the post, “I am perfectly mystified by Miss Leroy.”

“What is the matter with her?” asked Col. Robinson. “Is she not faithful to her duties and obedient to your directions?”

“Faithful is not the word to express her tireless energy and devotion to her work,” responded Dr. Gresham. “She must have been a born nurse to put such enthusiasm into her work.”

“Why, Doctor, what is the matter with you? You talk like a lover.”

A faint flush rose to the cheek of Dr. Gresham as he smiled, and said, “Oh! come now, Colonel, can’t a man praise a woman without being in love with her?”

“Of course he can,” said Col. Robinson; “but I know where such admiration is apt to lead. I’ve been there myself. But, Doctor, had you not better defer your lovemaking till you’re out of the woods?”

“I assure you, Colonel, I am not thinking of love or courtship. That is the business of the drawing-room, and not of the camp. But she did mystify me last night.”

“How so?” asked Col. Robinson.

“When Tom was dying,” responded the doctor, “I saw that beautiful and refined young lady bend over and kiss him. When she found that he was dead, she just cried as if her heart was breaking. Well, that was a new thing to me. I can eat with colored people, walk, talk, and fight with them, but kissing them is something I don’t hanker after.”

“And yet you saw Miss Leroy do it?”

“Yes; and that puzzles me. She is one of the most refined and ladylike women I ever saw. I hear she is a refugee, but she does not look like the other refugees who have come to our camp. Her accent is slightly Southern, but her manner is Northern. She is self-respecting without being supercilious; quiet, without being dull. Her voice is low and sweet, yet at times there are tones of such passionate tenderness in it that you would think some great sorrow has darkened and overshadowed her life. Without being the least gloomy, her face at times is pervaded by an air of inexpressible sadness. I sometimes watch her when she is not aware that I am looking at her, and it seems as if a whole volume was depicted on her countenance. When she smiles, there is a longing in her eyes which is never satisfied. I cannot understand how a Southern lady, whose education and manners stamp her as a woman of fine culture and good breeding, could consent to occupy the position she so faithfully holds. It is a mystery I cannot solve. Can you?”

“I think I can,” answered Col. Robinson.

“Will you tell me?” queried the doctor.

“Yes,