Every
apartment on the first floor except the dining-room was filled with
the wounded. Some were flushed and feverish by reason of their
injuries, others, pallid from loss of blood and ebbing vital forces.
The Confederate general, with his staff, had already made a hasty
breakfast and departed; through the open door came the mellow sound
of bugles and the songs of birds, but within were irrepressible
sighs and groans. Mrs. Whately entered the spacious parlor on the
floor of which Confederate officers lay as close as space for
attendance upon them permitted. The young girl paused on the
threshold and looked around with a pitying, tearful face. A white-
haired colonel was almost at her feet. As he looked up and
recognized her expression, a pleased smile illumined his wan, drawn
face. "Don't be frightened, my child," he said gently.
The swift glance of her secured attention took in his condition. His
right arm was gone and he appeared ghastly from loss of blood. In
her deep emotion she dropped on her knees beside him, took his cold
hand and kissed it as she said, "Please let me help you and others
get well.
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