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Alcott, Louisa May, 1832-1888

"On Picket Duty, and Other Tales"

"
"You shall not want it any more, John."
Nor did he; for now I understood the wistful look that sometimes
followed me, as I went out, after a brief pause beside his bed, or
merely a passing nod, while busied with those who seemed to need me
more than he, because more urgent in their demands; now I knew that
to him, as to so many, I was the poor substitute for mother, wife,
or sister, and in his eyes no stranger, but a friend who hitherto
had seemed neglectful; for, in his modesty, he had never guessed the
truth. This was changed now; and, through the tedious operation of
probing, bathing, and dressing his wounds, he leaned against me,
holding my hand fast, and, if pain wrung further tears from him, no
one saw them fall but me. When he was laid down again, I hovered
about him, in a remorseful state of mind that would not let me rest,
till I had bathed his face, brushed his "bonny brown hair," set all
things smooth about him, and laid a knot of heath and heliotrope on
his clean pillow. While doing this, he watched me with the satisfied
expression I so linked to see; and when I offered the little
nosegay, held it carefully in his great hand, smoothed a ruffled
leaf or two, surveyed and smelt it with an air of genuine delight,
and lay contentedly regarding the glimmer of the sunshine on the
green. Although the manliest man among my forty, he said, "Yes,
ma'am," like a little boy; received suggestions for his comfort with
the quick smile that brightened his whole face; and now and then, as
I stood tidying the table by his bed, I felt him softly touch my
gown, as if to assure himself that I was there.


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