Anything more
natural and frank I never saw, and found this brave John as bashful
as brave, yet full of excellences and fine aspirations, which,
having no power to express themselves in words, seemed to have
bloomed into his character and made him what he was.
After that night, an hour of each evening that remained to him was
devoted to his ease or pleasure. He could not talk much, for breath
was precious, and he spoke in whispers; but from occasional
conversations, I gleaned scraps of private history which only added
to the affection and respect I felt for him. Once he asked me to
write a letter, and, as I settled pen and paper, I said, with an
irrepressible glimmer of feminine curiosity, "Shall it be addressed
to wife, or mother, John?"
"Neither, ma'am; I've got no wife, and will write to mother myself
when I get better. Did you think I was married because of this?" he
asked, touching a plain ring he wore, and often turned thoughtfully
on his finger when he lay alone.
"Partly that, but more from a settled sort of look you have,--a look
which young men seldom get until they marry."
"I don't know that; but I'm not so very young, ma'am; thirty in May
and have been what you might call settled this ten years; for
mother's a widow; I'm the oldest child she has, and it wouldn't do
for me to marry until Lizzie has a home of her own, and Laurie's
learned his trade; for we're not rich, and I must be father to the
children, and husband to the dear old woman, if I can.
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