LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume I, Issue 84, 7 September 1874, Page 3

LITERATURE.

WEDDED IN' DEATH. A TALE OF THE LATE AMERICAN WAR. [From Belgravia.'] ( Continued .) The dawn broke f.-iir and unclouded, aud promised one of the brightest days of the glorious autumn of America. A light gauzy haze veiled the fierce glare, aud served to temper the warmth of the sun’s rays, aud caused a delicious languor to pervade the atmosphere, and a gentle westerly breeze faintly stirred the gorgeously-tinted foliage of the forest trees, amongst which the biids flew to and fro, twittering cheerily. Not. a cloud was visible in the gray-blue autumnal sky, and the fields and lanes and hill sid'j were clothed in fresh verdure, for the la re equinoctial rains had revivified the grass parched and withered by the intense lice" 3 of summer, and had renewed the bloom of the wild flowers in the hedge rows ai d copses. Nature breathed peace and rest and quiet. But though the elements were ai peace, though a holy calm lingered lovingly on the face of nature, and from the lofty heights of the capitnl at. Richmond the fas inated gaze of the visitor might extend over miles of smiling Virginian landscape, adorned with dark sombre masses of forest trees, whose branches gently waved in the light cool breeze, and winding, glittering silver streams, and handsome villas, and lowly yei picturesque farmhouses and cottages, from whose chimneys the smoke curled gracefully upwards until it was blended with the light thin haze of the early morning atmosphere, while in the far distance the dim blue outlines of the Virginia mountains formed a fitting background to the enchanting picture ; yet was this tranquil loveliness false and deceitful as is the calm of the treacherous ocean in the Eastern seas, when the fierce typhoon is breeding, aud may at- any moment lash the still waters into rage and foam, aud ingulf the proud ships that are sailing over their surface. The city, still apparently peacefully sleeping, was the abode of anxiety, grief, pain, aud mourning, and woo unutterable. B l ew were therein who did not mourn the loss of some dear relative or friend ; none who did not look with feelings of bitter anguish upon the present, or who did not look forward to the future with anxious fear, only rendered endurable by the spirit which had nerved them to face the dread conflict, and the unextinguishable hope which supported them, and never failed them even in their darkest hours. And the bright smiling valley, were it more closely viewed, would show marks of ruin and desolation scattered here and there, and the incendiary fires of civil war still smouldering, aud rich harvests destroyed, and black and barren tracts which had been the scenes of strife between contending armies, and which might again become scenes of strife at any moment; for the white lines that might be traced in the far distance were the tents which formed the enemy’s camp, in which legions of fierce foemen were resting upon their arms. The great God of battles alone knew what a day, what an hour might bring forth, or when the peaceful sounds which now met the ear —the bleating and lowing of the sheep and kine, the matin song of birds, and the soft sighing of the wind—might be drowned in the noise of battle, in the thunder of guns and the clash of steel, the hoarse shouts of infuriated men aud the neighing of warhorses, or the cries and groans of the wounded; when the clear waters of the glittering streams might be fouled and tainted with carrion, aud tinged with human blood. Such had been the case, such might bo, would be again. Such horrors as these attach themselves to and surround a beleaguered city. The beauty of the weather had little influence to cheer my spirits and lighten my heart when I arose in the morning from my sleepless bed. Nor could all my negro boy Pete’s well-meant persuasions induce me to partake of breakfast with my customary relish. I was anxious for the hour to arrive at which I had promised to revisit my poor unfortunate friend, aud yet I dreaded its arrival. It came round at last, and I set out for the hospital. It was the visiting hour, aud the marriage was to take place immediately after the throng of visitors dispersed, The matter had been kept as secret as possible ; still it had, somehow or other, got noised abroad, and a morbid curiosity induced many people, particularly females, to beg for permission to attend and witness the sad ceremony. At the express desire of Miss M'Dermott, however, aud with the perfect concurrence in her views of the hospital authorities, this permission had been accorded to very few—two or three only, with the exception of certain of the nurses—aud these few were, with one exception, ladies who had taken an interest in the poor young girl aud her dying lover. These persons had already assembled and were waiting for the ordinary visitors to leave. In the courtyard I met the surgeon to whom I had spoken on the previous day. I inquired how Lieutenant Burke was, and whetner there was any improvement or othci wise in his condition. 4 fie is living,’ was the surgeon’s sententious reply. 4 Vou have seen him to-day'/’ I asked. ‘Twice, stranger; but I calculate heow nothin’ that I could do would help him any. So 1 told ’em tew gin him what he wanted.’ ‘ There is no prospect of his recovery V ‘ Waal, ncow, that air a question tew ask,’ replied the doctor, looking at me with an expression of contempt. ‘ lie wor hit in the chest with a miuie-ball, aud I expect 1 never heern of a chap that wor hit with a miuieball in the vitals that did git over it. Thar s a quarter of an ounce of lead in his chest neow ; ef he’d been hit ever so little lower down he’d ha’ been a gone coon at onest. 1 knowed when I seen him that it wor all up with him. ’Tworu’t no use bringiu’ him tew hospital.’ 1 Have you seen Miss McDermott I ‘What, the gal/ Tes, I seen her for n rainit this mornin’ ; but I expect heow she’s keepin’ herself close till alter the affair’s over, and of she ain’t a vvidder tomorrow night at furthest my none b’ent Luther Twinning, from old Wisconsin. Mark my words neow, stranger !’ ‘ Pity, since the poor fellow must die, that she should become a wife,’ I thought to myself as I turned from the surgeon, whose style of conversation, though he meant no harm, was not agreeable. In the course of half au hour a grave elderly gentleman, with a surplice hanging over his aim, passed into the hospital. Home person present said that he was Mr Denton,

one of the military chaplains, who had promised to officiate on the occasion of the dread ceremony, and in another quarter of au hour the witnesses present were requested to hold themselves in readiness, gnd a hospital sergeant touched me on the arm and informed me that I was expected in ward No 7. I went thither, and found that Lieutenant Burke had been removed from the cot he had occupied on the previous day to a recess at the end of the ward, where he was placed apart from the rest of the patients. Miss McDermott, the clergymen, whom I had seen enter the hospital, and who now wore his surplice, the surgeon, and some of the lady nurses, aud a gentleman and two or three ladies who were strangers to me, were grouped in the recess, talking in whispers with one another. My poor friend was seated, leaning against the pillows of r.is bed, as I had seen him the day before. But ill as be then appeared great as was the shock I now experienced on seeing him—he looked tar worse today. The impress of death was stamped on every lineament of his visage. His features seemed to have shrunk, and his eyes, unnaturally large, instead of glittering with the light of fever and excitement as they then did, seemed now to be covered with a glassy film like those of a corpse. He recognised me as I drew near, aud feebly indicated that ■•’ll but Miss M Dermott and myself should leave the alcove. The party retired. Miss M'Dermott stood close to the cot, holding one of the hands of her dying lover in her own. With the other hand he beckoned to me to approach the cot, and again pressed the hand against his chest, as if the pain he experienced when the pressure was withdrawn was unbearable. He tried to speak, but his voice now utterly failed him, aud he could ouly express himself in feeble whispers. I leant over his cot aud placed my ear close to his lips, ‘ Ellen,’ he whispered, ‘ should need help —trust to you—promise V I understood what he intended to say, and replied that if Miss M‘Dermott should ever stand in need of any assistance that I was able to afford, 1 would render it for her sake as well as for his own. * In England—lreland—if necessary,’ he added, after several vain attempts. I was somewhat a loss to divine his meaning; but at length it struck me that he alluded to his approaching marriage, and that he wished me to promise that if the marriage were disputed, or if it should be necessary to bring forward proof that it had taken place, whether such proof were required either in England or Ireland, I would come forward with that proof. I asked whether this was his meaning, and he bowed his head slightly, and whispered, ‘ Yes.’ ‘lf I am living, and such proof should be necessary anywhere or at any time, I will, after I have witnessed the marriage, come forward in person if it be requisite so to do ; or should that be impossib'e through unforseeu circumstances, or should I be no longer living, I will take such precautions that the needful proofs shall be readily attainable.’ He smiled faintly; aud seemed satisfied. I saw his lips move, and again bent my head. ‘ Let them make haste now, he whispered. ‘ There is no time to spare. The end is near.’ ‘ Miss McDermott still stood ’holding her lover’s hand in her own. Her eyes were tearless ; but her face was pale, and her lips tightly compressed, as if she were forcibly endeavoring to suppress the evidence of the conflict of feeling that was at work within her bosom. I glanced at her face, and she slightly nodded, as if she understood and accepted my meaning. To ho continued.