"I can't say it to the rest, Frank; I don't know why. But I feel as if I could say it to you."
"Do," said Frank, thrilling with sympathy to the soldier's mysterious emotion. "What is it, Abe?"
For a minute Atwater sat gazing, gazing--not at the fire. Then he lifted from the book, which he held so tenderly, his right hand, and laid it upon Frank's. And he turned to the boy with a smile.
"I've liked you from the first, Frank. Did you know it?"
"If you have, I don't know why," said Frank, deeply touched.
"Nor do I," said the private. "Some we like, and some we don't, without the reason for it appearing altogether clear. I liked you even when you didn't please me very well."
"You mean when----" began Frank, stammeringly.
"Yes, you know when. It used to hurt me to see and hear you--but that is past."
"Yes. And I like you better than ever now. And do you know, Frank, I don't think I could say to you what I am going to, if you hadn't been in trouble yourself, lately? That makes me feel I can come near you."
"Yes,"--with another mild, serious smile. "Not just such trouble as you were in, though. It is nothing on my own account. It is on _hers_." And the soldier's voice sunk, as it always did, when he alluded to his wife.
"You have heard from her?" asked Frank, with sympathizing interest.
"Nothing but good news; nothing but good news," said Atwater, pressing the pocket where his letters were. "I wish you could know that girl's heart. I am just beginning to know it. She has blessed me! She is a simple creature--not so smart as some; but she has, what is better than all that, a heart, Frank!"
Frank, not knowing what else to say, answered earnestly, that he was sure of it.
"She has brought me to know this book," the soldier continued, his features tremblingly alive with emotion. "I never looked into it much before. I never thought much about it--whether it was true or not. But whether it is true or not, there is something in it that reaches me here,"--laying his hand on his heart,--"something that sinks into me. I can't tell how. It gives me comfort."
Frank, still not knowing how to reply, murmured that he was glad to hear it.
"Now, this is what I have been wanting to say to somebody," Abram went on, in a calm but suppressed voice. "I am going into battle to-morrow. Don't think I am afraid. I have no fear. But of one thing I am tolerably certain. I shall not come out of that fight unhurt."