The
wounded men left behind were moaning for help--the deserted
soldiers were losing their fortitude at last.
She entered the kitchen. A cry of delight welcomed her
appearance--the mere sight of her composed the men. From one
straw bed to another she passed with comforting words that gave
them hope, with skilled and tender hands that soothed their pain.
They kissed the hem of her black dress, they called her their
guardian angel, as the beautiful creature moved among them, and
bent over their hard pillows her gentle, compassionate face. "I
will be with you when the Germans come," she said, as she left
them to return to her unwritten letter. "Courage, my poor
fellows! you are not deserted by your nurse."
"Courage, madam!" the men replied; "and God bless you!"
If the firing had been resumed at that moment--if a shell had
struck her dead in the act of succoring the afflicted, what
Christian judgment would have hesitated to declare that there was
a place for this woman in heaven? But if the war ended and left
her still living, where was the place for her on earth? Where
were her prospects? Where was her home?
She returned to the letter.
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