FullReads

And who was he?

How did he dare stay among all those girls who were crying out their eyes, and sewing their fingers to the bones,–meeting every afternoon in one sitting-room or another, and devouring every word that came from the army? They read the worst-spelled letter that came home from Mike Sawin, and prized it and blessed it and cried over it, as heartily as the noblest description of battle that came from the pen of Carleton or of Swinton.

Who was he?

Ah! I have caught you, have I? That was Tom Cutts,–the old General’s great-grandson,–Sim Cutts’s grandson,–the very noblest and bravest of them all. He got off first of all. He had the luck to be at Bull Run,–and to be cut off from his regiment. He had the luck to hide under a corn crib, and to come into Washington whole, a week after the regiment. He was the first man in Maine, they said, to enlist for the three-years’ service. Perhaps the same thing is said of many others. He had come home and raised a new company,–and he was making them fast into good soldiers, out beyond Fairfax Court-House. So that the Brigadier would do any thing Tom Cutts wanted. And when, on the first of December, there came up to the Major-General in command a request for leave of absence from Tom Cutts, respectfully referred to Colonel This, who had respectfully referred it to General That, who had respectfully referred it to Adjutant-General T’other,–all these dignitaries had respectfully recommended that the request be granted. For even in the sacred purlieux of the top Major-General’s Head-quarters, it was understood that Cutts was going home for no less a purpose than the being married to the prettiest and sweetest and best girl in Eastern Maine.

Well! for my part I do not think that the aids and their informants were in the wrong about this. Surely that Christmas Eve, as Laura Marvel stood up with Tom Cutts in front of Parson Spaulding, in presence of what there was left of the Tripp’s Cove community, I would have said that Laura was the loveliest bride I ever saw. She is tall; she is graceful; she has rather a startled look when you speak to her, suddenly or gently, but the startled look just bewitches you. Black hair,–she got that from the Italian blood in her grandmother’s family,–exquisite blue eyes,–that is a charming combination with black hair,–perfect teeth,–and matchless color,–and she had it all, when she was married,–she was a blushing bride and not a fainting one. But then what stuff this is,–nobody knew he cared a straw for Laura’s hair or her cheek,–it was that she looked “just lovely,” and that she was “just lovely,”–so self-forgetful in all her ways, after that first start,–so eager to know just where she could help, and so determined to help just there. Why! she led all the girls in the village, when she was only fourteen, because they loved her so. She was the one who made the rafts when there was a freshet,–and took them all out together on the mill-pond. And, when the war came, she was of course captain of the girl’s sewing,–she packed the cans of pickles and fruit for the Sanitary,–she corresponded with the State Adjutant:–heavens! from morning to night, everybody in the village ran to Laura,–not because she was the prettiest creature you ever looked upon,–but because she was the kindest, truest, most loyal, and most helpful creature that ever lived,–be the same man or woman.

Now had you rather be named Laura Cutts or Laura Marvel? Marvel is a good name,–a weird, miraculous sort of name. Cutts is not much of a name. But Laura had made up her mind to be Laura Cutts after Tom had asked her about it,–and here they are standing before dear old Parson Spaulding, to receive his exhortation,–and to be made one before God and man.