The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 10 August 1911, Page 1499

The Storyteller

RANSOM'S PAPERS The old Southern mansion? made an idealS army hospital. Standing, yas\it ! ' did on the outskirts of Fernandina, it caught the slightest breeze from Amelia harbor on one side and from the ocean on the other. The broad windows gave a view of the white sandy beaches and the blue waters of the bay beyond. The beauty of the scene, however, had little charm for Ransom, the gaunt soldier in the east corner room. His hollow eyes were fixed wistfully on a flitting sail, the progress of which he watched until the little craft had passed beyond his field of vision. Then he turned to the sweet-faced young nurse, who was busy about the room. *;■■,■■■■■■■■■'■■■■ "I suppose Fernandina's a 1 pretty old town?'' he said, with his slow New England drawl. Miss Eliot strightened deftly the pillows with which Ransom was propped. 'lt was settled by the Spaniards in 1632,' she said, 'so it has had 'quite'a' history. There are some interesting places near here. Cumberland Island was the home of General Nathanael Greene, and "Light-Horse Harry" Lee is buried there.' A look of interest came into Ransom's face.-' You don't say!' he exclaimed. ' They was big men, both of 'em. Now I ain't so surprised about General Lee, but it seems kind of funny that Nathan'el Greene would want to come off down here to live, don't: it now "-,. ... ;"'• '

Miss Eliot s blue eyes twinkled. ‘ Where' is your home, Ransom , ' /,>.;.//;•/■/ / ‘Maine,’ said the soldier, promptly;/ f and I’m proud of it, too. You ain’t ever been .in .Maine, have you, Miss Eliot?’ His tone was wistful. No, I never have, Ransom, but I mean to go there some day, she said, pleasantly. ! All of my great-great-ancestors were New Englanders, though my own family has always lived in Ohio.’ f Ohio s a great State/ said Ransom, gallantly, but I don t know as it quite comes up to Maine. It’s a great country, all right, but Maine’s a kind of long stretch from Fernandina/ Ransom added, with a sigh. Oh, not so far,’ said Miss Eliot cheerfully. ‘lt takes only a few weeks for the transports to make the trip You must hurry to get strong and well, or you won’t be ready.’ ‘ That’s right/ said Ransom. It won’t be very long now before my discharge papers come, and just as soon as I git up among the pines I’ll begin to pick up. This here climate sort of takes the stiffenin’ out of you, don’t it?’ * ‘lt is enervating/ acknowledged Miss Eliot. ‘By the way, how do you happen to be here, Ransom? 1 ve never thought to ask you before.’ ‘Guess you was too busy takin’ care of me/ said the soldier shyly. ‘You’ve been pretty good tome, Miss Eliot, I must have been an awful nuisance, specially when I was out of my head so long.’ ‘An awful nuisance, Ransom/ said the girl, with dina SBriOUSneSS " * But ab ° your bein ff in Fernan-

Does seem kind of . funny; but it come about natural enough I was in the 42nd Maine, Army of the Potomac, and our regiment got orders to join Grant in Vicksburg. I was kind of ailin’ before we set out fiom Fortress Monroe; got a cold doin’ sentinel duty in the rain. J

, . ‘ It _ bung on and . hung on, and it’s bangin’ on me- off "S Y e ot to fernandina they dropped me off. Unfit for service,” they said.’ Ransom’s voice faltered. ‘And here I am, a-waitin’ for my discharge papers to come.’ y It was hard to feel that I wasn’t no more use so to speak, when I’d just turned thirty-seven. Seems as if all the things I thought was hard before wa’nt nothin to it. At first I thought I couldn’t stand it world? Tte/’have to“ Sta " d al “° St a^thi “S in thiß Miss Eliot nodded sympathetic comprehension.

'l've been doiri' considerable thinkin' since I've been lyin' here,' he went on. ' War's a terrible thing, a cruel thing, with a lot of sufferin' for folks that ain't in any ways to blamethe women, the old folks, and the little children..' His voice grew tender. ' Don't seem right, somehow. Of course, a man's got to do his duty. Now I could no more help enlistin' than I can help breathiri', so that's no credit to me. When the call come, I just left pa to run the farm and look after Adelaide and .little Mary. Then there's them on the other side, the fellers that's goin' to be beat, sure. They're such -plucky fighters. I believe I'm right, and I'd fight 'em to a finish, but they don't see it that way, and it is kind of hard on 'em, ain't it, now?' '■'■■-■ v ' That's the hard part of it,' said the nurse gently. 'The victory of one always means the defeat of the other.' Something in Ransom's unspoken sympathy led her to open her heart. ' Father's with Thomas in Tennessee. One brother's in the navy, and the youngest'—her voice broke ' is with Lee in Virginia. We were always great chums, Bob and I. He was father's favorite, too. It was hard for father.' She was silent; then, as her eyes met Ransom's direct look of gentle compassion, she went on almost as if the words were forced from her: ' And a man of whom I was very fond died at Shiloh, Ransom.' Her voice lapsed into silence. The bearded soldier reached out his thin hand and stroked the girl's sleeve. ' I mistrusted you had a story, but I never dreamed it was like that. You're a brave little woman,' he said tenderly, ' way down here lookin' after us battered veterans.'

Miss Eliot smiled through her tears. ' Oh, I couldn't help it, Ransom, any more than I can help breathing, so you see it's no credit to me.' .Day followed day in the cool old mansion over which fluttered the Stars and Stripes. At intervals came letters, official and unofficial, bulky documents with imposing government seals, communications for the 'commandant of the fort, papers galore; but among them all, Ransom's papers were not. When the next transport sailed without him, he bade a cheerful adieu to the men going north. ' I'm right down glad for you boys,' he said to a soldier who had come to say good-bye. 'lt won't be long now before I'll be a'followin' you.' That's right, Ransom,' .said the man heartily. ' Good-bye, old fellow, and good luck!' Outside the room he shook his head gravely. ' That cough is pretty serious. It's too bad he isn't going up on this boat. There's so much confounded red tape in these government affairs a man could die fifty times before they get round to him.' ' The next day was Sunday, and as an especial treat Ransom was taken out on the verandah for a few hours. . '* I'm a-pickin' up right along,' he said to the nurse. Perhaps it's just as well I couldn't go with the transport. Next time I'll be a good deal stronger.' He' looked out across the landscape with wistful eyes. ' You ain't ever seen the pictures of my wife and little girl, have you?' Miss Eliot shook her head, whereat Ransom reached his hand into his breast pocket, and drew out a little carved wooden case, which he opened with much care, disclosing two daguerreotypes. From one compartment looked the face of a woman, with broad brow, plain-banded hair, and firm yet sweet mouth. The eyes had a strangely direct gaze, and the entire countenance bore the stamp of strength and sincerity. Through the almost austere reserve shone a divine tenderness. The nurse instinctively recognised one of those rare natures which are not baffled by difficulties, but which persevere through suffering, even through defeat, to final triumph. ' Adelaide was teachin' in our district when I married her,' said Ransom. 'I never quite see how she came to take me. I was older, and hadnt' had her schoolin', and I ain't much to look at; but she always allowed she was satisfied, and we've been mighty happy together.' There was a ring of pride in Ransom's voice. --.- . < ' ''•

The other picture was that of a little girl, four years old. Her parted hair hung in short curls each side a round, serious little face. The big eyes had a questioning look, and the lips were slightly parted. The low-cut frock and short sleeves left uncovered a bgautiful neck and chubby, -dimpled arms.

The nurse gave a cry of delight. The quaint little darling she exclaimed. 'l'd just like to give her a good hug !'■■"'• ' I guess maybe I'd better go in now, Miss Eliot.', 'Tired, Ransom?' she said gently. 'Guess I am a little mite,' he said reluctantly. ' When I git up home now— ' A severe fit of coughing interrupted the last sentence. In the hall a few minutes later she encountered the old doctor. He was a tall man, with bushy eyebrows and a pair of keen eyes. Miss Eliot looked him squarely in the eye. '.What are Ransom's chances V The old doctor regarded her gravely. ' Unless his papers come so that we can start him off on the next transport Ransom's chances are practically nothing. I've written to Washington, and Commandant Haskell's written, and nothing's been heard. There you have it.' Miss Eliot's lips set themselves in firm lines. 'l'm going to write,' she said, ' but I'm going to write to Adelaide.' ' Who's Adelaide ?' queried the old doctor curiously. 'Adelaide is Ransom's wife. I believe if any one can get those papers, she can.' ' There's a tug going up to-morrow,' he said. 'Your scheme may not work, but it's worth trying.' That night the nurse wrote the letter, and her whole heart went into it.

The days went slowly by. Ransom continued sweet-tempered and cheerful, although as he grew weaker, he became daily a little more quiet. Just when he stopped asking for his papers it would be hard to say, but that time did at last come. On those occasions when the mail was brought in he would watch wistfully, but the words did not pass his lips. Only his hollow eyes questioned. Miss Eliot grew to dread those moments. From her own letter to Adelaide she had not heard. So, in the process of time, came the day for the second transport to sail. That morning Miss Eliot stood on the broad porch, watching the busy scene at the dock. Her face was sad. 'This afternoon,' she found herself saying, ' the boat will go, and Ransom's chance will go with it.' As she paused on the threshold, she noticed idly, far out in the harbor, a gunboat steaming toward the shore.

Slowly she climbed the stairs to Hansom's room. As she entered, he greeted her with his accustomed cheerfulness. It was as if he guessed her thoughts, and was trying to make it easy for her. ' It's a fine day,' he said. , Yes, Ransom.' ' It's this afternoon the boat sails, ain't it, Miss Eliot?' She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. v Then, at last, Ransom broke the reticence of weeks. . I've been sort of thinkin',' he said slowly, and I guess it ain't goin' to be my luck to get home. It looks pretty much as if my papers was a-comin' from another world. 'Don't you feel so bad about it, Miss Eliot,' ' h/? said comfortingly, as he noted the expression on her face. I'm real contented. I ain't denyin'' it was kind of hard at first, when I began to realise how things was goin', but I'm feelin' more reconciled now. If I had it to do over, I wouldn't do no different. War does cost, and if I'm to be a part of the price, so to speak, I'm willing to pay my share. Onlyl just would like to see Adelaide and little Mary again.' ■ There was yearning unutterable in the soldier's voice. ' If I ain't here when my papers come, Miss Eliot, I'd kind of like to have Adelaide have 'em, and there's a few things—'

‘l’ll see to everything, Ransom,’ said the girl/ ‘but don’t you give up-for a moment. I can’t have you give up. You see, .1 have set my heart on your going home.’ • In her agitation she had gone to the window, and with tear-filled eyes was gazing down the shady street. At the wharf the gunboat had docked, and several uniformed pedestrians were coming toward the hospital. All this- she noticed mechanically; then all at once her heart gave a convulsive leap. Turning in at the gate was a tall lieutenant, with a sun-browned face. Perched on his shoulder was a little girl. Her round hat had fallen back upon her neck, so that her face, with its frame of clustering curls, was distinctly visible. She was smiling down ,at her tall companion in a way that betokened an established comradeship. It was the dear, quaint little girl of Ransom’s daguerreotype! Miss Eliot did not need a second glance in order to recognise the tall, slender woman who followed. Without daring to look at . Ransom, she. slipped quietly-from the room and hurried down the stairs. The lieutenant had set the child down on-the porch and now stood with cap in hand. ‘ls this Miss Elio;:?' he inquired courteously. The nurse bowed ; then she turned. ‘ This is Mrs. Ransom, isn’t it?’ She held out her hand.

Then Adelaide spoke: ‘Am I— John ’ Her white lips refused to frame the question. ‘ He’s weak, Mrs. Ransom, but there is a good chance, and now that you have come ’ But Adelaide, overcome by the reaction, swayed suddenly, groping blindly before her. The lieutenant sprang forward, supporting her to a chair, while the nurse ran for a glass of water. Adelaide drank the water obediently; then when she was recovered she looked up into Miss Eliot’s face. ‘ I can see him ?’ •

‘Just as soon as I’ve prepared him a little. You will remember he’s rather weak.’

The lieutenant held out his hand. I'm glad we found good news,' he said heartily. I'll be around again to see if I can be of any further service.' He stopped to pat Mary's curly head. ' Good-bye, honey,', and with a military salute he strode away. " * Ransom had attributed Miss Eliot's abrupt departure to the emotion which had so strongly swayed her. Now he lay in the east corner room, quietly watching a whisp of white cloud, which was drifting slowly through the blue sky. He felt that he, too, was drifting out toward the wide unknown expanse of eternity. Miss Eliot's voice aroused him. .' Ransom,' she said quietly, ' are you strong enough to bear some good news?' Ransom turned toward her quickly, attracted by the joy in her tone. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes like stars. %>'■':-■ Good news he stammered. Have—have my papers come?' : 'They came in a gunboat this morning, Ransom, by special messenger.' Joy so intense as to be almost dazzling overspread the worn face. • ' papershave——and I can go home this afternoon?' It was atonishing to see how the vitality flamed up in the worn frame. ' Do you feel strong enough to see the messenger, Ransom V

‘Strong enough!’ Ransom’s tone was sufficient answer.

The nurse left the room. A moment later the door opened softly. On the threshold stood Adelaide and little Mary. The child had clasped in her chubby hand a long envelope with a red seal. Mindful of Miss Eliot’s caution, Adelaide stood quiet. Only her eyes met her husband’s with deep tenderness and passionate yearning. ‘Adelaide!’ whispered Ransom. ‘Mary!’ He stretched out his arms.

The child, breaking away from her mother’s restraining grasp, ran forward. ‘Daddy, daddy!’ she cried, in her shrill, sweet voice. We’ve brought your, papers!’ and climbing on the bed, she threw her arms about her father’s neck.

/; ‘Poor sick daddy!’ she crooned. 1 - Bowing his head above the child’s curls, Ransom broke into deep, gasping sobs. A moment later Adelaide was on her knees by the bedside, her arms stretched across her husband, as if her love would hold him by force from that which threatened.

On the stairs outside the little nurse wept tears of joy. Here, a few moments later, the old doctor found her. 1 ’

‘Well, young woman,’ he said jovially, ‘what’s your faith in humanity and providence up to date ? Came about like a play, didn’t it? Regular climax! At critical moment, enter wife and child.’

‘Don’t joke, doctor entreated the nurse. ‘ Joke ! Bless your soul, child, nothing was farther from my thoughts.’ The old doctor blew his nose vigorously.

When Miss Eliot opened the door of the east corner room, she found a happy group. Adelaide sat by the bedside, her husband’s hand in hers. Ransom’s other hand held the long envelope with the red seal. On the o bed, Mary was stroking her father’s thin cheeks affectionately. There were tears in Ransom’s eyes as he turned toward the nurse.

‘lt doesn’t seem possible, Miss Eliot,’ he said huskily. ‘ I never knew any one could be so happy. I haven’t any idea yet how it all come about. I guess Adelaide will have to untangle the mystery,’ and his eyes rested tenderly on his wife’s face. ‘lt’s something of a story,’ said• Adelaide, ‘so perhaps I’d better begin at the first.’ ‘Yes,’ said Ransom, ‘I want to hear it all,’ and with her hand still in her husband’s, Adelaide, in a simple, direct way, told her story ‘ Letters have been pretty uncertain up in Maine. I hadn’t heard from John in months, but I kept on hoping. I had to.’ A little quiver ran over Adelaide’s face, and Ransom’s grasp of her hand tightened. Then one afternoon, along about four o’clock, Jim Fellows drove into the yard with Miss Eliot’s letter.’ Ransom turned toward the nurse with a little start. His eyes met hers solemnly. ‘So it was you,’ he said. I had enough to thank you for before, but I guess I ain’t ever going to be able to pay my debt.’ ‘ Oh, I’m more than paid,’ said the girl brightly. ‘Go on with your story, Mrs. Ransom.’ velope, and even when I did, the words just danced before my eyes. I handed the letter to pa, and he put on his spectacles kind of " slow like. His hands trembled so he could hardly hold the paper. When he had finished, he looked at me.

‘ Pa never said a word, but went to the old secretary, unlocked it, and took out a big roll of bills. He handed it to me. -

' "I'll go right out and hitch up," he said. "If we hurry, you can get the night train from Old Town;" 'He went out, and all of a sudden I felt a tug at my'skirts. I looked down, and there was Mary. Quick as a flash the question came to me, what should I do .with her 1 It seemed foolish to take her ; and yet, somehow, I felt that I had to. I just couldn't leave her.' Ransom raised Mary's dimpled hand to his lips. -Father's little girl,' he said. (To be, concluded.)