He must have thought of his mother, old and by herself in her cabin;
but she would not live long; and of Vashti some. She had called him
a deserter, as the other women had done. A verse from the Testament
she gave him may have come into his mind; he had never quite understood it:
"Blessed are ye when men shall revile ye." Was this what it meant?
This and another one seemed to come together. It was something about
"enduring hardship like a good soldier", he could not remember it exactly.
Yes, he could do that. But Vashti had called him a deserter. Maybe now
though she would not; and the words in the letter she had written him
came to him, and the little package in his old jacket pocket
made a warm place there; and he felt a little fresher than before.
The sun came up and warmed him as he trudged along,
and the country grew flatter and flatter, and the road deeper and deeper.
They were passing down into the bottom. On either side of them
were white-oak swamps, so that they could not see a hundred yards ahead;
but for several miles Darby had been watching for the smoke
of the burning bridge, and as they neared the river his heart began to sink.
There was one point on the brow of a hill before descending to the bottom,
where a sudden bend of the road and curve of the river
two or three miles below gave a sight of the bridge.
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