THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES POPULAR NOVELS. BY MRS. MARY J. HOLMES. -TEMPEST AND SUNSHINE. -ENGLISH ORPHANS. HOMESTEAD ON HILLSIDE. 'LENA RIVERS. -MEADOW BROOK. DORA DEANE. COUSIN MAUDE. MARIAN GREY. -WEST LAWN. -EDITH LYLE. DAISY THORNTON. CHATEAU D'OK. DARKNESS AND DAYLIGHT. HUGH WORTHINGTON. CAMERON PRIDE. ROSE MATHER. ETHELYN'S MISTAKE. MILBANK. EDNA BROWNING. MILDRED. FORREST HOUSE. MADELINE (New). QUEENIE HETHERTON (New). "Mrs. Holmes is a peculiarly pleasant and fascinating writer. Her books are always entertaining, and she has the rare faculty of enlisting the sympathy and affections of her readers, and of hold ing their attention to her pages with deep and absorbing interest." All published uniform with this volume. Price $1.50 each. Sold everywhere, and sent/ree by mail on receipt of price, BY G. W. CARLETON & Co., Publishers, New York. ROSE MATHER: BY MRS. MAHY J. HOLMES, 4T7THOB D TEMPEKC AND .UN8HTNE," " 'LENA BIYBBS," " THE OAKKBOK PBTOE," ETC., Kl-0. NEW Y O R K : Carleton> Publisher, Madison Square. LONDO V : S. LOW, SON & CO. MDCCCLXXXIII. iB the Clerk's Office /., NEW YORK. TEX SOLDIEBS LIVING 4HE It JSUmots of t])t Soltilfrjs THIS BTOBT OF THE WAB IB GBATEFTTLLT INSCKIBED BT THB ACTHOm. ROWH OOTIAGX, Brockport, K. T. 1868. CONTENTS. rial I. THE WAB MEETING 9 IL KOBE AND ANNIE 20 JH. THE DEPABTUBE 35 IV. WILL AND BBOTHEB TOM 50 V. JIMMIE 67 VL FINDING SOMETHINO TO DO FOB THE WAB 81 VTL THE BATTLE 87 VHL THE RETBEAT 98 IX. THE EEBEL AND THE YANKEE Ill X. NEWS OF THE BATTLE AT ROCKLAND 121 XI. THE WOUNDED SOLDIEB 134 XIL GETTING READY 142 XnL THE DYING SOLDIEB 150 XTV. MATTEBS IN ROCKLAND 158 XV. THE DESEBTEB 165 XVL NEWS DIBECT FBOM JIMMIE 179 XVIL THE CONFEDEBATE SOLDIEB'S 'WELCOME TO ROCK- LAND 191 XVLIJL THE RICHMOND CAPTIVES 208 XIX. TOM'S RECEPTION 221 XX. AT THE MATHEB MANSION 248 XXI. " NOT LONG FOB THIS WOBLD." 259 TreTT THE WOUNDED SOLDIEB 269 XXTTT TOM AND JIMMIE 283 XXIV. THE RESULTS OF THE BATTLE . . , 289 v iii CONTENTS. CHAP. XXV. GETTYSBUBGH .................... .............. 292 XXVL COTJESE OP EVENTS .............................. 296 XXVJX THE HUNTED SOLDIEB .......................... 304 XXVIH. THH DEAD ALIVE ............................... 318 XXIX. THE HEEOLNE OP THE MOUNTAIN ................. 322 XXX. ABTHUB AND MAUDE ............................ 337 XXXL MAUDE AND TOM ............................... 343 XXXIL SUSPICION ...................................... 353 XXXHL IN THE CAVE ................................... 359 XXXIV. POOB ABTHUB ............... . .................. 368 XXXV. THE DEAD AND THE LIVING ...................... 373 XXXVL ANDEBSONVILLE PBISONEBS ....................... 377 XXXVIL IN BOCKLAND ................................... 886 XXXVUL THE LOVKBS ............................ ....... 392 XXXIX. CHAKLLE... ...... 97 ROSE MATHER. CHAPTER L THE WAB MEETING. JHE long disputed point as to whether the South was in earnest or not was settled, and through the Northern States the tidings flew that Suinter 1 ad fallen and the war had commenced. With the first Tin which boomed across the waters of Charleston bay, it was ushered in, and they who had cried, "Peace! )ieace!" found at last "there was no peace." Then, and not till then, did the nation rise from its lethargic slum ber and shake off the d elusion with which it had so long been bound. Political differences were forgotten. Re publicans and Democrats struck the friendly hand, pulse b< at to pulse, heart throbbed to heart, and the watch word everywhere was, " The Union forever." Through out the length and breadth of the land were true, loyal hearts, and as at Rhoderic Dhu's command the High landers sprang to view from every clump of heather on the wild moors of Scotland, so when the war-cry came np from Sumter our own Highlanders arose, a mighty host, responsive to the call; some from New England's templed hills, with hands inured to toil, and hearts a 10 BOSE MATHER. strong and true as flint; some from the Empire, some the Keystone State, and others from the prairies oi the distant West. It mattered not what place had given them birth; it mattered little whether the Green Moun tains of Vermont, the granite hills of New Hampshire, or the shadowy forests of Wisconsin had sheltered their childhood's home; united in one cause they rallied round the Stars and Stripes, and went forth to meet, not a foreign foe, out alas, to raise a brother's arm against another brother's arm in that most dreadful of all anar chies, a national civil war. In the usually quiet village of Kocklandthe utmost in terest was felt, and though there, as elsewhere, were many whose hearts beat as warmly for their Southern friends as when the sun shone on a nation at peace, all felt the necessity of action, and when at last the even ing came in which the first war meeting of that place was to be held, a dense and promiscuous crowd wended its way to the old brick church, whose hallowed walls echoed to the sound of fife and drum, strange music for the house of God, but more acceptable, in that dark hour, than songs of praise sung by vain and thoughtless lips. In the centre of the church, the men were mostly congregated, while the seats nearest the door were oc cupied by the women, the wives and mothers and sisters who had come with aching hearts to see their brothers, sons and husbands give their signatures to what seemed their sure death warrant. Conspicuous among these was Widow Simms, whose old-fashioned leghorn, with its faded green veil, was visible at all public gatherings, its broad frill of lace shading a pair of sharp grey eyes, and a rather peculiar face. It was very white now, and the thin lips were firmly compressed as the widow tried to look resolute and unconcerned when two of her sons THE WAR MEETING. il went forward, their faces glowing with youthful enthu siasm, as they heard the President repeat their names, " John Simms, Eli Simms." The widow involuntarily said it after him, her mother's heart whispering within her, "Isaac won't go. He's too young. I can't give Isaac up," and her eye wandered to where her youngest boy was sitting, twirling his old cloth cap, and occa sionally exchanging a word with the young man next to him, William Baker, who, together with his brother, arose, to follow John and Eli Simms. Scarcely, however, had they risen to their feet, when a woman occupying the same seat with Widow Simms, uttered a cry more like the moaning howl of some wild beast, than like a human sound. "No, Harry, no, Bill no, no," and the bony arms were flung wildly toward the two young men, who, with a dogged, indignant glance at her, fell back among the crowd where they could not be seen, muttering some thing not very complimentary to " the old woman," as they called her. But the old woman did not hear it, and if she had, it would have made no difference. It mattered not to her that they had ever been the veriest pests in the whole village, the planners of every grade of mischief, the rob bers of barns and plunderers of orchards, they were her boys, and she didn't want them shot, so she continued to moan and cry, muttering incoherently about the rich treading down the poor, and wondering why Judge War ner didn't send his own white fingered sons, if he thought going to war was so nice. " I wouldn't make such a fuss, let what would happen to me," said the Widow Simms, casting a half contemp tuous glance upon the weeping woman, whom she evi dently considered far beneath her, and adding, " They had 12 ROSE MATHER 'nough-sight oetter be shot than hung, ' as an aside to the young woman just behind her, sweet Annie Graham, who was holding fast to her husband's hand, aa if she would thus keep him in spite of the speaker's eloquent appeals, and the whispers of his companions, who were urging him to join the company forming so rapidly bo- fore the altar. There was a terrible struggle going on in Annie Gra ham's breast, duty to her country and love for her hus band waging a mighty conflict, the former telling her that if the right would triumph, somebody's husband must go, and the wife-heart crying out, "Yes, somebody's husband must go, I know, but not mine, not George." Very tenderly George Graham's strong arm encircled the girlish form, and when he saw how fast the tears came to the great dreamy eyes of blue, and thought how frail was the wife of little more than a year, he bent down until his chin rested on her pale brown hair, and whispered softly to her, " Don't, Annie, darling, you know I will never go un less you think I ought, and give your free consent." Had George Graham wished, he could not have chosen a more powerful argument than the words, " Unless you think I ought." Annie repeated them to herself again and again, until consciousness of all else around her was forgotten in that one question of duty. She heard no longer the second speaker, whose burning eloquence was stirring up hitherto reluctant young men to place their names beside others already pledged to their country's cause. Leaning for ward so that her forehead rested on the railing in front, she tried to pray, but flesh and strength were weak, and the prayer ended always with the unuttered cry, " I can not let George go," while the fingers twined more and THE WAR MEETING. 18 more closely around the broad, warm hand, which sough! awhile to reassure her, and then was withdrawn from her grasp as George arose and politely offered his seat to a lady who had just arrived, and who, after glancing an instant at his coat, accepted his civility as a matter of course, but withheld the thanks she would have accorded to one whom she considered her equal. Spreading out her wide skirt of rich blue silk so that it nearly covered poor Annie, she threw her crimson scarf across the railing in front, hitting Widow Simms, and so diverting the attention of Mrs. Baker, that the latter ceased her crying, while the widow turned with an expression half curious, half indignant. Annie, too, attracted by the heavy fringe and softly-blended colors of the scarf, a part of which had fallen upon her lap, as the widow shook it from her shoulder with a jerk, stole a glance at the new comer, in whom she recognized the bride, the beauty, the envied belle of Kockland, Rose Mather, from Boston, and wife of the wealthy and aris tocratic William Mather, who three months before had ended the strife between the Rockland ladies as to what fair hand should spend his gold, and drive his iron greys, by bringing to his elegant mansion a fairy little creature with whose exquisite beauty even the most fastidious could not find fault. Childish in proportions, and per fect in form and feature, she would have bee handsome without the aid of the dancing brown eyes, and chestnut eurls which shaded her girlish brow. Hose knew she vas pretty, knew she was stylish, knew she was fascin ating, knew she was just then the rage, and as such could do and say what she pleased. Sweeping back her chestnut hair with her snowy hand, she gave one rapid glance at the sea of heads around her, and then, in a half petulant tone, exclaimed to her companion' 14 ROSE MATHEK. " I don't believe Will is here. I can't see nim any where." " Didn't you know he had enlisted ?" asked a young man, who had made his way through the crowd, ami joined her. For an instant the bright color faded from Rosa Mather's cheek, but it quickly returned as she read in Mr. Wentworth's eye, a contradiction of his words. " Will enlisted !" she repeated. " Such people as Will don't go to the war. It's a very different class, such, for instance, as that one going up to sign. Upon tny word, it's the boy who saws our wood 1" and she pointed at the youth, offering himself up that just such people aa Rose Mather, radiant in silks and diamonds, and lace, might rest in peace at home, knowing nothing of war, and its attendant horrors, save what came to her through the daily prints. Widow Simms heard the remark, and with a swelling heart turned toward the boy who sawed Rose Mather's wood, for she knew who it was, and it did not need the loud whisper of Mrs. Baker to tell her that it was her boy, the youngest of the three, the one she loved the best, the baby, who kept the milk of human kindness from turning quite sour within her breast by his many acts of filial love, and his gentle, caressing ways. How could she give him up, her darling, her idol, the one so like his father, dead ere he was born ? Who would comfort her as he had done ? Who would give her the good-night kiss, timidly, stealthily, lest the older ones should see and laugh at his girlish weakness ? Who would bring his weekly earnings, and empty them slily into her lap ? Who would find hei place in the prayer-book on Sunday, and pound hei clothes on Monday, long before it was light? Wh<. would split the nice fine kindlings for the morning fire THE WAE MEETING. Ifl or bring the cool fresh water in the summer from the farther well, and who, when her head was aching sadly would make the cup of tea she liked so much ? Homelj offices, many of them, it is true, but they made up the sum of that mother's happiness, and it is not strange that, for a moment, the iron will gave way, and the poor widow wept over her cruel bereavement, not noisily, as Mrs. Baker had done, but silently, bitterly, her body trembling nervously, and her whole attitude indicative of keen, unaffected anguish. Rose did not know the relationship existing between the widow and the boy who sawed her wood, but her better nature was touched always at the sight of distress, and for several minutes, she did not speak except to tell Mr. Wentworth how much Brother Tom had paid for the crimson scarf, one end of which he was twirling around his wrist To Annie it seemed an enormous sum, and a little over-awed with her close proximity to one who could sport so expensive an article of dress, she involun tarily tried to move away, and avoid, if possible, being noticed by the brilliant belle. She might have spared herself the trouble, for Rose was too much absorbed with the group of admirers gathering around her to heed the shrinking figure at her side, and, after a time, as Widow r Simms recovered her composure, she resumed her gay badinage, bringing in Will with every other breath, and showing how completely her heart was bound up in her husband, notwithstanding the evident satisfac tion with which she received the flattering compliments of the gentlemen who, since her arrival at Rockland, had made it a point to admire and flirt with the little Boston belle, laughing loudly at speeches which, from one lesi piquant and attractive, would have been pronounced decidedly silly and meaningless. 16 ROSE MATHER. Rose was not well posted with regard to the object of that meeting. She knew that Sumter or Charleston had been fired upon, she hardly could tell which, for she was far too sleepy when Will read the news to comprehend clearly what it was all about, and she had skipped everj word which Brother Tom had written about it in his last letter, the one in which he enclosed five hundred dollars for the silver tea-set she saw in Rochester, and wanted so badly. Rose was an accomplished musician, a tolera ble proficient in both French and German, and had skimmed nearly all the higher branches, but like many fashionably educated young ladies, her knowledge oi geography comprised a confused medley of cities, towns and villages, scattered promiscuously over the face of the earth, but which was where she could not pretend to tell ; and were it not that Brother Tom had spent three win ters in Charleston, leaving at last his fair-haired wife sleeping there beneath the Southern sky, she would scarcely have known whether the waters of the Atlantic or of Baffin's Bay, washed the shore of the Palmetto State. And still Rose was not a fool in the ordinary ac ceptation of the term. She knew as much or more than half the petted belles of modern society, and could say smart foolish things with so pretty an air of childish ness, that even those of her own sex who were at first most prejudiced against her, confessed that she was cer tainly very captivating, and possessed the art of making everybody like her, even if she hadn't common sense ! On this occasion she chatted on in her usual style, provoking from George Graham more than one good- aumored smile at remarks which evinced so much igno rance of the matter then agitating the entire community. "Will wouldn't go to the war, of course," she said; 1 supposing there were one, which she greatly doubter) THE WAR MEETING. 17 Northern men, particularly those of Eockland, were so hateful toward the South. She didn't believe Boston people were that way at all. At least, Brother Tom was not, and he knew ; he had lived in Charleston* and described them as very nice folks. Indeed, she knew they were, herself, for she always met them at Newport, and liked them so much. She didn't credit one word of what the papers said. She presumed Mr. An derson provoked them. Tom knew him personally." "You have another brother besides Tom won't ht join the army ?" asked Mr. Wentworth, a smile curling the corners of his mouth. Hose sighed involuntarily, for on the subject of thai other brother she was a little sore, and the mention of him always gave her pain. He was not like Brother Tom, the eldest, the pride of the Carleton family. He was Jimmie, handsome, rollicking, mischievous Jimmie, to those who loved him best, while to the Boston people, who knew him best, he was " that young scapegrace, Jim Carleton, destined for the gallows, or some other ignominious end," a prediction which seemed likely A o be verified at the time when he nearly broke a comrade's head for call ing him a liar, and so was expelled from college, covered with disgrace. Something of this was known to Mr. Wentworth, and he asked the question he did, just to see what Rose would say. But if he thought she would at tempt to conceal anything pertaining to herself, or any one else, for that matter, he was mistaken. Kose was too truthful for anything like duplicity, and she frankly answered: "We don't know where Jimmie is. They turned him out of college, and then he ran away. It's more than a year since we heard from him. He was in Southern Virginia, then. Mother thinks he's dead, or ho would 18 ROSE MATHER sure y write to some of us," and a tear glittered in Rose'a eyes, as she thought of recreant Jimraie, sleeping else where than in the family vault at beautiful Mt. Auburn. Rose could not, however, be unhappy long over what wai a mere speculation, and after a few moments she resumed the subject of her husband's volunteering. ' She knew he wouldn't, even if he did vote for Lin coln. She was not one bit concerned, for no man who' loved his wife as he ought, would want to go and leave her," and the little lady stroked her luxuriant curls coquettishly, spreading out still wider her silken robe, which now completely covered the plain shilling calico ol poor Annie, whose heart for a moment beat almost to bursting as she asked herself if it were true, that no man who loved his wife as he ought, would want to go and leave her. In a moment, however, she repelled the as sertion as false, for George had given too many proofs of his devotion for her to doubt him now, even though he had expressed a desire to join the army. Then she wished she was at home, where she could not hear what Rose Mather said, and she was about proposing to George that they should leave, when Mr. Mather himself appeared, and she concluded to remain. He was a haughty-looking man, very fond of his little wife, on whose shoulder he laid his hand caressingly, as he asked "what she thought of war now?" " I just think it is horrid !" and Rose's fat hand stole up to meet her husband's; " Mr. Wentworth tried to make me think you had volunteered, but I knew better. The idea of your going off 'with such frights ! Why, Will, you can't begin to guess what a queer-looking set they Are. There was our milkman, and the boy who saw* our wood, and canal-drivers, and peddlers, and me- ehanics, and " THE WAR MEETING. 19 Rose did not finish the sentence, for son-ething in her husband's expression stopped her. He had caught the quick uplifting of Annie Graham's head, had noted tha indignant flashing of her blue eye, the kindling spot on her cheek, and glancing at George, he saw at once how Rose's thoughtless words must have wounded her. He had seen the disgusted expression of Widow Simms, as ehe flounced out into the aisle, and knowing that the " boy who sawed his wood," was her son, he felt sorry that his wife should have been so indiscreet. Still, he could not be angry at the sparkling little creature chat ting so like a parrot, but he felt impelled to say: " You should not judge people by their dress or occu pation. The boy who saws our wood has a heart larger than many who make far more pretensions." Eose tried to pout at what she knew to have been in tended as a reprimand, but in the excitement of the jam as they passed out of the church, she forgot it entirely, only once uttering an impatient ejaculation as some one inadvertently stepped upon her sweeping skirt, and so held her for a moment, producing the sensation which nearly every woman experiences when she feels a sudden backward pull, as if skirt and waist were parting company. With the hasty exclamation, "Who is stepping on me, I'd like to know ?" she turned just in time to hear Annie Graham's politely-spoken words of apology: " I beg your pardon, madam ; they push me so behind that I could not help it." " It isn't the least bit of matter," returned Rose, dis armed at once of all resentment, by Annie's lady-like manner, and the expression of the face, on which traces of tears were still lingering. " Who is that, Will ?" she whispered, as they emerged into the moonlight, and George Graham's tall form wai plainly discernible, together with that of his wife. 20 KOBE MATHER Will told her who it was, and Rose rejoined : " He has volunteered, I 'most know. Poor, isn't he V "Not very rich, most certainly," was Mr. Mather's reply. "Then I guess he's going to the war," was Hose's mental comment, as if poverty were the sole accomplish ment necessary for a soldier to possess, a conclusion to which older and wiser heads than hers seemed at one time to have arrived. Annie Graham heard both question and answer, and with emotions not particularly pleasant she whispered to herself : " Eose Mather shall see that one man at least will not go, even if he is a mechanic and poor!" and clinging closer to George's arm, she walked on in silence, think ing bitter thoughts of the little lady, who, delighted with having Will on one side of her, and Mr. Wentworth, his partner, on the other, tripped gaily on, laughing as lightly as if on the country's horizon there were no dark, threatening cloud, which might yet overshadow her in its gloomy folds, and leave her heart as desolate as that of the Widow Simms, or the wailing mother of Harry and Bill CHAPTEE IL EOSE AND ANNIE. &OSE MATHEE'S home was a beautiful place, containing everything which love could devise, or money purchase, and Eose was very happy there, dancing like a sunbeam through the handsome ROSE AND ANNIE. 21 rooms of which she was the mistress, and singing as gaily as her pet canary in its gilded cage by the door No shadow of sorrow or care had ever crossed her path way, and the eighteen summers of her short life had come and gone like so many pleasant memories, bringing with them one successive round of joys, leaving no blight behind, and bearing with them, alas, no thanks for the good bestowed, for Rose was far too thoughtless to think that the Providence which shielded her so tenderly, might have dealt more harshly with her. But the shadow was creeping on apace, and Rose was conscious that the war-meeting had awakened within her a new and uncom fortable train of thought. Like many others, she had a habit of believing that nothing very bad could happen to her, and so, let what might occur, she was sure her hus band would be spared. Still, in spite of her gaiety, an undefined something haunted her all the way from the church, and even when alone with her husband in her tasteful sitting-room, with the bright gas-light falling cheerily around her, and adding a fresh lustre to the elegant furniture, she could not shake it off, nor guess what it was that ailed her. At last, however, it came to her. suggested by the sight of her husband's evening paper, and laying her curly head upon his knee, she gave vent to her restlessness in the expression: "I wish there wouldn't be any war. What is it aU for ? Tell me, please." It was the first interest she had evinced in the matter, *nd glad to talk with any one upon the subject which was beginning to occupy so much of his own thoughts, Mr. Mather drew her into his lap, and endeavored, as far AS possible, to explain to her what it all was for. Much oi what he said, however, was Greek to Rose, who only gained a vague idea that the North was contending for a 22 KOSE MATHER. bit of cloth, such, as she had often seen floating over th dome of the old State House in Boston, and with the re mark, that men's lives were far more valuable than alJ fche Stars and Stripes in the world, she fell away to sleep eaving her husband in the midst of an argument not quite clear to himself, for, like his wife, he could not then see exactly what the war was for. Still, inasmuch as there was war, he would not play the coward's part, nor shrink from the post of duty if his country should need his ser vices. But this Rose did not know, and seeure in the belief that whatever might happen, "Will would never go, she soon resumed her wonted cheerfulness, and if she said anything of the war, was sure to startle her hearers with some remark quite unworthy of a New England daughter. She did wish they would stop having so many meetings, she said, or if they must have them, she wished they'd get Brother Tom to come and set them right. He had lived in Charleston. He could tell them how kind the people were to Mary, his sick wife, and were it not that 'twas beneath him to lecture, she'd sure ly write for him to come. Rose Mather was growing unpopular by her foolish speeches, and when at last she was asked to join with other ladies of the town in mak ing articles of clothing for the volunteers, she added the last drop to the brimming bucket, by tossing back her chestnut tresses, and " guessing she shouldn't blister her hands over that coarse stuff. She couldn't sew much any way, and as for making bandages and lint, the very idea was sickening. She'd give them fifty cents if they wanted, but she positively couldn't do more than that, for she must have a new pair of lavender kids. She had worn the old ones three or four times, and Will preached economy every day." With a frown of impatience, the matron who had been ROSE AND ANNIE. 28 deputed to ask help from Hose, took the fifty cents, and with feelings anything but complimentary to the silly little lady, went back to the hall where scores of women jvvere busily employed in behalf of the company, some o* whom would never return to tell how much good even the homely housewife, with its pins and needles, and thread, had done them when far away where no mother or sister hand could reach them, nor yet how the thought that perhaps a dear one's fingers had torn the soft linen band, or scraped the tender lint applied to some gaping worm, had helped to ease the pain, and cheer the home sick heart. It was surely a work of mercy in which our noble women were then engaged, and if from the group collected in Rockland Hall, there was much loud mur muring at Rose Mather's want of sense or heart, it arose not so much from ill-nature, as from astonishment that she could be so callous and indifferent to an object of so much importance. "Wait till her husband goes, and she won't mince along so daintily, taking all that pains to show her Bal moral, when it isn't one bit muddy," muttered the Widow Simms, pointing out, to those near the window, the lady in question, tripping down the street in quest of lavender kids, perhaps, or more likely, bound for her husband's office, where, now that everybody worked all day long at the Hall, she spent much of her time, it was so lonely at home, with nobody to call. " I hope he'll be drafted and have to go, upon my word !" continued the widow, whose lieart was very sore with thinking of the three seats at her fireside, so soon to be vacated by her darling boys, Eli, Jolin, and Isaac. " Yes, I do hope he'll be drafted, don'* vou, Mrs. Graham ?" and she turned toward Annie, who was rolling up bandages of linen, and weaving in with ev ery coil a prayer that the poor soldier, whose lot it should 24 EOSE MATHER. be to need that band, might return again to the loved ones at home, or else be fitted for that better home> where war is unknown. Annie shook her head, but made no answer. There was no bitterness now in her heart against Kose Mather She had prayed that all away, and only hoped the an guish which had come to her, making her brain giddy, and her heart faint, might never be borne by another, if that could be. George had volunteered. was to be sec ond lieutenant, and Annie, oh, who shall tell of the gloom which had fallen so darkly around the cottage she had called hers for one brief year. It was a neat, cozy d welling, and to Annie it never seemed so cheerful as on that memorable night of the war-meeting, when she had lighted the lamp, and sat down with George upon the chintz-covered lounge he had helped her make when first she was a bride. It is true the carpet was not of velvet, like that Rose Mather trod upon; neither was there in all the house one inch of rosewood or of marble, but there was domestic love, pure and deep as any Rose ever experienced, and there was something better far than that, a patient, trusting faith in One who can shed light upon the dreariest home, and make the heaviest trial seem like nought. It was this trusting faith which made Annie Graham the sweet, gentle being she was, shedding its influence over her whole life, and softening down a disposition which otherwise might have been haughty and resentful. Annie was naturally high-spirited and proud, and Rose's remarks concerning volunteers in gen eral, and George in particular, had stung her to the quick, but with the indignant mood there came another impulse, and ere the cottage had been reached, the bitter feeling had gone, leaving nothing but sorrow that it had ever been there. Like Rose, she wished there would bi BOSE AND ANNIE. 26 no war, but wishing was of no avail, and long after George Graham was asleep and dreaming, it may be, of glories won on battle-fields, Annie lay awake, questioning within Lerself, whether she ought, by word or deed, to prevent her husband's going, if he felt as he seemed to feel, that it was as much his duty as that of others t join in his country's defence. Annie was no gr eat rea- soner, logically; all her decisions were made to turn upon the simple question of right and wrong, and on this oc casion she found it hard to tell, so evenly the balance seemed adjusted. More than once she stole from her pillow, and going out into the fresh night air, knelt in the moonlight, and asked for guidance to choose the right, even though that right should take her husband from her. " If I knew he would not die, it would not be so hard to give him up," she murmured, as sickening visions of fields strewn with the dead, and hospitals filled with the dying, came over her, and for an instant her brain reeled with the thought of George dying thus, and leaving her no hope of meeting him again, for George's faith was not like hers. Anon, however, something whispered to her that the God she loved was on the field of carnage, and in the camp and in the hospital, and everywhere as much as there in Bockland, that prayers innumerable would follow the brave volun teers, and that the evil she so much feared might be the means of working the great good she so desired. And thus it was that Annie came to a decision. Stealing back to her husband's side, she bent above him as he lay sleeping, and with a heart which throbbed to its very core, though the lip uttered no sound, she gave him to his country asking, if it could be, that he might come back again, but if it were ordered otherwise "God's will be done." 2 26 ROSE MATHER. There was no shrinking after that sacrifice was made, though when the morning came, the death-white face and the dark circle beneath the eyes, told of a weary vigil, such as many and many a woman kept both North and South, during the dark hours of the Rebellion. But save the death- white face, and heavy eyee, there was no token of the inner struggle, as with a desperate effort at self-command, Annie wound her arms around her hus band's neck, and whispered to him, "You may go, I give my free consent," and George, who cared far more to go than he had dared express, kissed the lips which tried so hard to smile, little dreaming what it cost his brave young wife to tell him what she had. To one of his temperament, there was no danger to be feared for himself. The bullet which might strike down b brother at his side would be turned away from him Others would, of course, be killed, but he should escap; unharmed. In the language of one speaker, whose elo quent appeal had done much to fire his youthful enthu siasm, " He was not going to be shot, but to shoot some body !" This was his idea, and ere the clinging arms had un clasped themselves from his neck, his imagination had leaped forward to the future, and in fancy George Graham wore, if not a Colonel's, at least a Captain's uni form, and the cottage on the hill, which Annie so much admired, and for the purchase of which a few hundreds were already saved, was his, bought with the money he would earn. The deed should be drawn in her name, too, he said, and he pictured her to himself coming down the walk to meet him, with the rose-blush on her cheek, just as she looked the first time he ever saw her. Some thing of this he told her, and Annie tried to smile, and think it ill might be. But her heart that morning was ROSE AND AKNTE. 27 far too heavy to be lightned by a picture of what seemed so improbable. Still, George's hopeful confi* dence did much to reassure her, and when, a few days after, she started for the Hall, she purposely look a longer walk for the sake of passing the cottage on the hill, thinking, as she leaned over the low iron fence, how she would arrange the flower-beds more tastefully than they were now arranged, and teach the drooping vines to twine more gracefully around the slender columns supporting the piazza in front. She would have seats, too, willow-twisted chairs beneath the trees, where she and George could sit at twilight, and watch the shadows creeping across the hollow where the old cottage was, and up the opposite hill, where the cupola of Rose Mather's home was plainly visible, blazing in the April sunshine. It was a very pleasant castle which Annie built, and for a time the load of pain which, since George volunteered, had lain so heavy at her heart, was gone ; but it returned again when, as she passed a turn in the road, her eye wandered down to the hollow, and that other cottage standing there so brown and small, and looking already so desolate, because she knew that ere many days were over, she should wait in vain for the loved footsteps coming down the road, should miss the pleasant, cheery laugh, the teasing joke and words oi love which made the world all sunshine. The cottage on the hill became a worthless thing as poor Annie forced back her tears, and with quickened steps hurried on to join the group of ladies busy at the Hall. Taking her seat by the window, she commenced the light work imposed on her, that of tearing and winding bandages for those who might be wounded. " Maybe there'll never be no fight, but it's well enough to be prepared," was the soothing remark of the kind- 28 ROSE MATHER. hearted woman who gave the work to Annie, noting, as she did so, how the lip quivered and the cheek paled af the very idea. " What if George should need them ?" kept suggesting itself to her as she worked industriously on, hoping that if he did, some one of the rolls she was winding might come to him, or better yet, if he could only have the bit of soft linen she had brought herself, a piece of her own clothing, and bearing on it her maiden name, Annie Howard. He would be sure to know it, she said, it was written so plainly with indelible ink, and it would make bJTYj feel so glad. But there might be other Annie How ards, it was not an uncommon name, was suggested next to her, as she tore the linen in strips, and quick as thought, her hand sought the pocket of her dress for the pencil which she knew was there. Glancing around to see that no one observed her, she touched the pencil to her lips and wrote after the name, "It's your Annie, George. Try to believe I'm there. Eockland, April, 1861." There were big tear-drops on that bit of linen, but Annie brushed them away, and went on with her rolling, just as Widow Simms called her attention to Rose Mather, as mentioned several pages back. Annie could not account for it to herself, but ever since Eose's arrival at Bockland, she had felt a strange inexplicable interest in the fashionable belle ; an interest prompted by something more than mere curiosity, and now that there was an opportunity of seeing her without being herself seen, she straightened up and smoothing the soft braids of her pale brown hair, waited for the entrance of the little lady, who, with her pink hat set jauntily on her chestnut curls, and her rich fur collai buttoned gracefully over her handsome cloth cloak, ROSE AND ANNIE. 2U tripped into the room, doing much by her sunny smile and pleasant manner to disarm the ladies of their recent prejudice against her. She was nothing but a child, they reflected; a spoiled, petted child; she would im prove as she grow older, and came more in contact with the sharp corners of the world, so those who had the honor of her acquaintance, received her with the fami liar deference, if we may be allowed the expression, which had always marked their manner toward William Mather's bride. Rose was too much accustomed to soci ety to be at all disconcerted by the hundred pair of eyes turned scrutinizingly toward her. Indeed, she rather enjoyed being looked at, and she tossed the coarse gar ments about with a pretty playfulness, saying that " since the ladies had called upon her she had thought better of it, and made up her mind to martyr herself one afternoon at least, and benefit the soldiers. To be sure there wasn't much she could do. She might hold yarn for somebody to wind, she supposed, but she couldn't knit, and she didn't want to sew on such ugly, scratchy stuff as those flannel shirts, but if somebody would thread her needle, and fix it all right, she'd try what she could do on a pair of drawers." For a time no one seemed inclined to volunteer hei services, and Widow Simms's shears clicked spitefully loud as they cut through the cotton flannel. At last, however, Mrs. Baker, who had more than once officiated RS washerwoman at the Mather mansion, came forward and arranged some work for Rose, who, untying the strings of her pink hat, and adjusting her tiny gold thim ble, labored on until she had succeeded in sewing up and joining together a long leg with one some inches shorter, which had happened to be lying near. Loud was the shout which a discovery of this mistake called 80 ftOSE MATHER. forth, nor was it at all abated when Rose demurely asked if it would not answer for some soldier who should chance to have a limb shot off just below the knee. " The little simpleton !" muttered the widow, while Mrs. Baker pointed out to the discomfited lady that one division of the drawers was right side out and the other wrong 1 There was no alternative save to rip the entire thing, and with glowing cheeks, Rose began the task of undoing what she had done, incidentally letting out, as she worked, that Will might have known better than to send her there, she shouldn't have come at all if he had not in sisted, telling her people would call her a secessionist un less she did something to benefit the soldiers. She didn't care what they called her; she knew she was a democrat, or used to be before she was married; but now that Will was a republican, she hardly knew what she was; any way, she was not a secessionist, and she wasn't particularly interested in the war either; why should she be? Will was not going, nor Brother Tom, nor any of her friends. "But somebody's friends are going, somebody's Will, somebody's Tom; as dear to them as yours are to you," came in a rebuking tone from a straight-forward, out spoken woman, who knew from sad experience that " somebody's Tom was going." "Yes, 1 know," said Rose, a shadow for an instant crossing her bright face, " and its dreadful, too. Will says everything will be so much higher, and it will be so dull at Saratoga and Newport next summer, without the Southern people. One might as well stay at home. The war might have been avoided, too, by a little mutual forbearance from both parties, until matters could be amicably adjusted, for Brother Tom said so in his lettei last night, and a heap more which I can't remember." ROSE AND ANNIE. 81 Here Eose paused quite exhausted, with the effort she had made to repeat the opinion of Brother Tom. She had read all his last letter, fully indorsing as much of it as she understood, and after a little she went on : " Wasn't it horrid, though, their firing into the Maa sachusetts boys ? and they were from right 'round Bos ton, too. Tom saw them when they started. They were fine looking men, he says, and Will thinks I ought to be proud that I'm a Bay State girl, and so I am, but it isn't as if my friends had gone. Tom is a democrat, I know, but it's quite another kind that join the army." Widow Simms could keep silent no longer, and brand ishing her polished shears by way of adding emphasis to what she said, she began : " And s'posin' 'tis folks as poor as poverty struck, haint they feelin's, I'd like to know? Haint they got bodies and souls, and mothers, and wives, and sisters? And s'posin' 'tis democrats, more shame for t'other side that helped get up the muss. Where be they now, them chaps that wore the big black capes, and did so much to ward puttin' Lincoln in that chair ? Why don't they help to keep him settin' there, and not stand back with their hands tucked in their trouses' pockets ? Both my boys, Eli and John, voted t'other ticket, and Isaac would, but he wasn't twenty-one. They've all jined, and I won't say I'm sorry, for if there's anything I hate, it's a sneak! It makes me so mad !" and the big shears again clicked savagely, as Widow Simms resumed her work, after hav ing thus delivered her opinion of the black republicans, besides having, in her own words, given " that puckerio Miss Mathers a piece of her mind." Obtuse as Rose was on many points, she saw there was some homely truth in what the widow had said, but this did not impress her so much as the fact that she 82 EOSE MATHER. had evidently given offence, and she was about trying tc extricate herself from the dilemma when George Graham appeared, ostensibly to bring some trivial message to the President of the Society, but really to see ii his wife were there, and speak to her some kind word of encour agement. Rose recognized him as the young man she had seen at the war meeting, and the moment he left the hall, she broke out impetuously, "Isn't he handsome? so tall, so broad-shouldered, and such a splendid mark for a bullet, I most know he will be shot?" " Hush-sh 1" came warningly from several individuals, but came too late. The mischief was done. Ere Rose could collect her thoughts a group of frightened women had gathered around poor Annie, who had fainted. "What's the matter? do telll" cried Rose, standing on tip-toe and clutching at the dress of Widow Simms, who angrily retorted, " I should s'pose you'd ask. It's enough to make the poor critter faint clean away to hear a body talk about her husband's being a fust rate mark for a bullet I" With all her thoughtlessness, Rose had the kindest heart in the world; and forcing her way through the crowd, she knelt by the white-faced-Annie, and tak ing the drooping head in her lap, pushed back the thick braids of hair, noticing, with her quick eye for the beautiful, how soft and luxuriant they were, how pure was the complexion, how perfect were the features, how small and delicate the fingers, and how graceful was the Blender neck. "I'm so sorry! I wish I'd staid at home; I am so eorry," she kept repeating; and when at last Annie re- turne tod consciousness, Rose Mather's war fch*> firsi voice she heard, Rose's the first face she saw ROSE AND ANNIE. 38 With an involuntary shudder she closed her eyes weari ly, while Rose anxiously asked of those about her how they should get her home. " Oh, Jake," she suddenly ex claimed, as, towering above the female heads, she sa\l her colored coachman looking for her, and remembered that her husband was to call and take her out to ride, "oh, Jake, lift this lady up, careful as you can, and put her in our carriage. Is Will there ? Well, no matter, he'll just have to get out. Stand back, won't you, and let Jake come," she continued, authoritatively to the group of ladies who, half-amused and half-surprised at this new phase in Rose Mather's character, made way for burly Jake, who lifted Annie's light form as if it had been a feather's weight, and bore it down the stairs, fol lowed by Rose, who, with one breath, told Annie not to be a bit afraid, for Jake certainly would not drop her, and with the next asked Jake if he were positive and sure he was strong enough not to let her fall. Lazily reclining upon the cushions of his carriage, Wil liam Mather was smoking his Havana, and admiring the sleek coat of his iron greys, when Rose appeared, and seizing him by the arm, peremptorily ordered hiiri to alight, and help Jake lift the lady in. " I don't know who 'tis, but it's somebody I made faint away with my silly talk," she replied in answer to Mr Mather's question, " Who have you there ?" " You made faint away !" he repeated, as he found himself rather unceremoniously landed upon the flag ging stones, his Havana rolling at his feet, and his wife preparing to follow Annie, whom Jake had placed inside. " Yes ; I talked about her husband's being a splendid mark for a bullet, and all that, without ever thinking she was his \vife. He looked so tall, and big, and nice, that I couldn't help thinking his head would come above