Copperhead Gore: Benjamin Wood's Fort Lafayette and Civil War America

CHAPTER XXIX

[ 245 ] CHAPTER XXIX. With the earliest opportunity, Harold proceeded to Washington, and sought an interview with the President, in relation to Arthur’s case. Mr. Lincoln received him kindly, but could give no information respecting the arrest or alleged criminality of his friend. “There were so many and pressing affairs of state that he could ¤nd no room for individual cases in his memory.” However, he referred him to the Secretary of War, with a request that the latter would look into the matter. By dint of persistent inquiries at various sources, Harold¤nally ascertained that the prisoner had a few days previously been released, upon the assurance of the surgeon at the fort, that his failing health required his immediate removal. Inquiry had been made into the circumstances leading to his arrest; made too late, however, to bene¤t the victim of a State mistake, whose delicate health had already been too severely tried by the discomforts attendant upon his situation. However, enough had been ascertained to leave but little doubt as to his innocence; and Arthur, with the ghastly signs of a rapid consumption upon his wan cheek, was dismissed from the portals of a prison, which had already prepared him for the tomb. Harold hastened to Vermont, whither he knew the invalid had been conveyed. It was toward the close of the ¤rst autumn day that he entered the little village, upon whose outskirts was situated the farm of his dying friend. The air was mild and balmy, but the voices of nature seemed to him more hushed than usual, as if in mournful unison with his own sad reveries. He had passed on foot from the Copperhead Gore [ 246 ] village to the farmhouse, and when he opened the little white wicket, and walked along the graveled avenue that led to the¶ower-clad porch, the willows on either side seemed to droop lower than willows are used to droop, and the soft September air sighed through the swinging boughs, like the prelude of a dirge. Arthur was reclining upon an easy-chair upon the little porch, and beside him sat a venerable lady, reading from the worn silverclasped Bible, which rested on her lap. The lady rose when he approached ; and Arthur, whose gaze had been wandering among the autumn clouds, that wreathed the points of the far-off mountains, turned his head languidly, when the footsteps broke his dream. He did not rise. Alas he was too weak to do so without the support of his aged mother’s arm, which had so often cradled him in infancy and had now become the staff of his broken manhood. But a beautiful and happy smile illumined his pale lips, and spread all over the thin and wasted features, like sunlight gleaming on the grey surface of a churchyard stone. He lifted his attenuated hand, and when Harold clasped it, the ¤ngers were so cold and death-like that their pressure seemed to close about his heart, compressing it, and chilling the life current in his veins. “I knew that you would come, Harold. Although I read that you were missing at the close of that dreadful battle, something told me that we should meet again. Whether it was a sick man’s fancy, or the foresight of a parting soul, it is realized, for you are here. And you come not too soon, Harold,” he added, with a pressure of the feeble hand, “for I am going fast—fast from the discords of earth— fast to the calm and harmony beyond!” “Oh, Arthur, how changed you are!” said Harold, who could not keep from fastening his gaze on the white, sunken cheek and hollow eyes of his dying comrade. “But you will get better now, will you not—now that you are home again, and we can nurse you?” Arthur shook his head with a mournful smile, and the ¤t of painful coughing which overtook him answered his friend’s vain hope. Fort Lafayette by Benjamin Wood [ 247 ] “No, Harold, no. All of earth is past to me, even hope. And I am ready, cheerful even, to go, except for the sake of some loved ones that will sorrow for me.” He took his mother’s hand as he spoke, and looked at her with touching tenderness, while the poor dame brushed away her tears. “I have but a brief while to stay behind...