At a Girl's Mercy, or, The Fortunes of War — page 197: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

186 | AT A GIRL’S MERCY. deavor to put self aside among these brave soldiers suffering their pain in mute willingness to add noth- ing to her heaviness of heart. There wasmany a hand reached out to touch hers in silent sympathy as she passed down between the cots, the light some- how gone from the sunny face that had carried so many minutes of brightness to the hearts there. And this sympathy was very sweet to the girl, though there was little she said in regard to her inner thoughts, for she did not go there, she said once, when questioned as to how she could so bravely bear the blow upon her—she did not go there to wear her own sorrows on her sleeve, but to help lessen the sufferings of others. And why should she be telling of her sorrow when all knew of it, and to talk of it could do no good? But what she suffered no one knew. Her heart was so tender for the home friends and the life that had been so sadly broken in upon by this terrible war. How she longed for the quiet old Hall and the fragrant garden with its flowers, many and many a time, no one knew. How her heart went out in its wild longing to be with those who needed her care and all her tenderness now. How shecried out against the fate that shut down so strangely upon her, keeping her here—for she would not leave—among the sufferers from the cruelty of war, when her own father was suffering from the same cause, under such far different circumstances—and her mother—what of her? That there were friends there she knew, but it was not like the home faces after all, and to know absolutely nothing of those who were out in the field and camp would bear her heart down until it must nearly break from the strain. How could she stand it to remain there in the hospital among those who were suffering, it was true, but who were not her very own, after all? How could she remain there, giving them the care and the tenderness she should give those nearer and dearer? How could she do nothing when there surely was something she could do? But she knew nothing of what she ought to do. How could she help her father in his sore need? How could she ~ Gomicbooks.com J de _ a . ee ee - . * 4 *