I remember nothing of the scene at the Capitol, except the sea
of heads, the crowd, and the heat; my intense scrutiny of the
crowd, and the weariness that grew on me. Mrs. Sandford had
friends to talk to; I only wished I need not speak to anybody.
It was a weary day; for I could not see Mr. Thorold, and I
could not hear the President's Message. I was so placed or so
surrounded that it came to me only in bits. Wearily we went
home.
At least, Dr. Sandford and I. Mrs. Sandford tried in vain to
rally us.
"There is to be a marriage in camp," she said. "What do you
think of that, Daisy? We can have invitations, we like. Shall
we like? Wouldn't it be a curious scene? Daisy is interested,
I see. Grant, no. What is the matter, Grant?"
"I hope, nothing," said the doctor.
"Will you go, if I get you an invitation?"
"Who is to be married?"
"La fille du régiment."
"It takes two," said the doctor.
"Oh! The other is a sergeant, I believe; some sergeant of the
same regiment. They are to be married to-morrow evening; and
it is to be by moonlight and torchlight, and everything odd;
up on that beautiful hill where we were the other day, where
the trees and the tents make such a pretty mingling with red
caps and everything else."
"I hope the ceremony will be performed by comet light, too,"
said Dr. Sandford. "It ought, to be in character."
"You do not feel well to-night, Grant?"
"Tired. So is Daisy. Are you tired of Washington, Daisy?"
"Oh - no!" I said eagerly. "Not at all. I like very much to be
here."
"Then we will go and see the sergeant's wedding," said he.
But we did not; for the next day it was found to be only too
true that Dr. Sandford was unwell. Perhaps he had been working
too hard; at any rate, he was obliged to confess to being ill;
and a day or two more settled the question of the amount of
his indisposition. He had a low fever, and was obliged to give
up to it.