The Clansman (1905)/Book 2/Chapter 3
WITHIN two weeks after the departure of Mrs. Cameron and Margaret, the wounded soldier had left the hospital with Elsie's hand resting on his arm and her keen eyes watching his faltering steps. She had promised Margaret to take her place until he was strong again. She was afraid to ask herself the meaning of the songs that were welling up from the depth of her own soul. She told herself again and again that she was fulfilling her ideal of unselfish human service.
Ben's recovery was rapid, and he soon began to give evidence of his boundless joy in the mere fact of life.
He utterly refused to believe his father in danger.
"What, my dad a conspirator, an assassin!" he cried, with a laugh. "Why, he wouldn't kill a flea without apologising to it. And as for plots and dark secrets, he never had a secret in his life and couldn't keep one if he had it. My mother keeps all the family secrets. Crime couldn't stick to him any more than dirty water to a duck's back!"
"But we must secure his release on parole, that he may defend himself."
"Of course. But we won't cross any bridges till we come to them. I never saw things so bad they couldn't be worse. Just think what I've been through. The war's over. Don't worry."
He looked at her tenderly.
"Get that banjo and play 'Get Out of the Wilderness!'"
His spirit was contagious and his good-humour resistless. Elsie spent the days of his convalescence in an unconscious glow of pleasure in his companionship. His handsome boyish face, his bearing, his whole personality, invited frankness and intimacy. It was a divine gift, this magnetism, the subtle meeting of quick intelligence, tact, and sympathy. His voice was tender and penetrating, with soft caresses in its tones. His vision of life was large and generous, with a splendid carelessness about little things that didn't count. Each day Elsie saw new and striking traits of his character which drew her.
"What will we do if Stanton arrests you one of these fine days?" she asked him one day.
"Afraid they'll nab me for something!" he exclaimed. "Well, that is a joke! Don't you worry. The Yankees know who to fool with. I licked 'em too many times for them to bother me any more."
"I was under the impression that you got licked," Elsie observed.
"Don't you believe it. We wore ourselves out whipping the other fellows."
Elsie smiled, took up the banjo, and asked him to sing while she played.
She had no idea that he could sing, yet to her surprise he sang his camp-songs boldly, tenderly, and with deep, expressive feeling.
As the girl listened, the memory of the horrible hours of suspense she had spent with his mother when his unconscious life hung on a thread came trooping back into her heart and a tear dimmed her eyes.
And he began to look at her with a new wonder and joy slowly growing in his soul.