38. CHAPTER XXXVIII.
It is now necessary to pass in silence over the space
of several weeks, leaving to the imagination of the
reader the demonstrations of love and regret offered by
the brave boys of the Ohio Twenty — to their “daughter,”
who, in bidding them farewell, assured each in turn
that she should never forget her relation to the regiment,
nor consider it severed, as long as she lived; and each
one was invited to call upon her for service, or remembrance,
whenever he might find it pleasant to do so.
To the same vivid imagination must also be left the
incidents of the long journey between Cheat Mountain
summit and the quiet village in Massachusetts where
Captain Windsor's mother and sister awaited his return,
and cordially welcomed his adopted sister for his
sake.
But of matters subsequent to her arrival at Mrs.
Windsor's home, we will let Dora speak for herself, in an
extract from a long letter written by her to Mr. Brown,
directly after becoming settled in her new abode.
After detailing the journey, and speaking of Captain
Karl's renovated health she goes on to say, —
“And now, Mr. Brown, I am going to tell you something
so surprising, that I can hardly believe it myself.
Only think of Captain Karl's mother being my own dear
mother's sister, the very aunt Lucy that I have so long
wanted to find! And only think, too, that Charlie (that's
what we call Captain Karl almost always here) knew all
the time, or suspected, at least; because, when he wrote to
his mother about me, and said my name was Dora Darling,
she wrote back word that her sister married a man
named Darley, and told him to inquire if it wasn't the same
name. Then he took up my little Bible one day, when I
had been reading to him, and saw mother's name, `Mary
Lee,' written in it; and his own mother's name was Lucy
Lee; so he knew then right off. But he made believe to
his mother that he didn't know; and he never said a word
to me; but he says, if I had concluded not to go with
him, he should have told me, though he didn't want to,
because he wanted to surprise us both.
“And sure enough we were surprised, when, pretty soon
after we got home, Charlie asked me for my Bible, and
gave it to his mother, and asked her if ever she saw it
before. Aunt Lucy turned just as pale, — you can't think
how pale, — and looked in a sort of wild way at him and
at me!
“Then Charley nodded his head and laughed (I think
he laughed so as to keep from crying), and said, —
“`All right, mother. Dora is the daughter of the
Mary Lee who owned that book before she married Mr.
Darley.'
“Then aunt Lucy hugged me and kissed me so much!
and she cried; but I was too much amazed to cry, and
Marnie — that's Charley's sister — hugged me and kissed
me too; and O, Mr. Brown, I was so happy, so dreadfully
happy, it seemed as if my heart would break.
“And now we are all getting used to each other, and
quieting down a little, it is still pleasanter, and I am to
go to school with Marnie directly.
“But, dear Mr. Brown, they won't hear a word about
my going to live with you; and aunt Lucy says you must
get a parish here instead, or, at any rate, must come and
make us a nice long visit as soon as your time in the
army is out. Please do come, and we will talk about it
then. I haven't forgotten that I promised to come, if
you wanted me; and I shall do whatever you think best,
after you have talked with aunt Lucy.
“Picter lives here; and he is to have a little house,
and take care of our garden, and work for other people
when he wants to. But we shall always take care of
him, of course. He is very happy, and sends his `'spec's
to Mas'r Brown,' with a great many wishes to see and
hear you talk again.
“My brother Tom has been placed on a farm in the
western part of this state, and is doing very well indeed
there; but I think he wants to go into the army again,
on the right side this time. I hope he will make up his
mind to do so. It makes me feel a little bad that Charley
doesn't want to have me see Tom often, and doesn't want
him to live any nearer us. I know, now, one of the
reasons he was so unwilling to help him come North.
He doesn't like him a bit, and I am so sorry!
“And now, dear Mr. Brown, I must say good by.
Please give my love to Colonel Blank, and tell him about
my new friends. And give my love to all the men,
please, when they come together Sunday afternoon to
hear you read. I miss doing that very much, though I
am going to have a Sunday school class. But it seems
very small and still here, after the camp. Good by, dear
Mr. Brown.
“I am your affectionate daughter,
“Dora.”
As the chaplain finished reading this letter, and placed
it carefully away, he smiled a smile of tender determination.
“I won't be robbed of my ewe lamb by any claim of
kindred, or custom,” said he, softly. “She shall come
to me yet, of her own free will, and no man shall put us
asunder.”
THE END.
