Candle in the Darkness - Lynn N. Austin [126]
“I understand you’re visiting a specific prisoner?”
“Yes, my cousin Robert Hoffman. Why?”
“Just how is this man related to you . . . if I might ask?”
I couldn’t believe he was interrogating me this way. My heart continued to pound as my fear slowly transformed into anger. I struggled not to show it. “Robert is related by marriage. My mother’s sister—who grew up here in Richmond—married Philip Hoffman, Robert’s uncle. They were kind enough to take me into their home in Philadelphia after my mother died. That’s where I met Robert. He is nothing more to me than a cousin, no different than my cousin Jonathan.”
Mr. St. John’s eyes met mine. “I’d like to ask you not to visit him anymore.”
“Why? All I do is bring him a little food and some reading material. Conditions in that place are deplorable.”
“From now on your boy can deliver the parcels. Major Turner will see that your cousin gets them.”
“That’s not the point. Doesn’t the Bible say we’re supposed to visit the sick and those who are in prison?”
“Does Charles know you’re going there to see that man?”
I shook my head. I don’t know why I’d never told Charles, but I hadn’t. At first, it didn’t seem important. After I’d carried the Bible to the Union lines, I was afraid to tell him, afraid my guilt would bleed between the lines, staining my letters with it. I could no longer meet Mr. St. John’s gaze.
“Listen, Caroline, I’m sure your intentions are innocent enough. But in many people’s eyes, your actions are scandalous. The fact that you’re helping an enemy soldier calls your loyalty into question. Visiting a man in close quarters without a proper chaperone puts your reputation at risk. I’m going to ask you again for Charles’ sake—and for the sake of your own reputation— please stop coming here to the prison.”
For a long moment, I couldn’t speak. He was right, of course. I would have to send Robert a note in my next parcel, explaining why I could no longer come. I sat with my head bowed, staring at my hands for such a long time, Mr. St. John interpreted my silence as acquiescence and got ready to leave.
“Thank you for understanding. Good day, Caroline.”
I finally looked up, and this time my eyes met Eli’s. There was no anger in them, no reproach, yet I knew before I even asked his counsel what his answer would be.
“Mr. St. John . . . wait!”
He turned and slowly limped back as I climbed down from my carriage.
“I’m sorry, but I have to refuse your request. I will write to Charles myself and tell him all my reasons for visiting Robert. And Eli will stay right beside me from now on as a chaperone. But I believe that obeying Christ is more important than worrying about what other people think. Robert is not an enemy soldier but a prisoner, a friend suffering inhuman conditions. Jesus said that whatever we do for the least of our brethren, we do for Him.”
Mr. St. John turned so abruptly and walked away that I wasn’t able to see his face. But I saw Eli’s. And his smile could have lit up the darkest prison cell.
I wrote to Charles that evening, telling him the same things I’d told his father. I asked for neither his permission nor his blessing but concluded by saying that if he were ever captured, I would pray that the women up north would show their enemies the same Christian kindness I was showing to Robert. Two days later, I gave the letter to Jonathan to deliver. He was returning to the warfront, the wound to his arm finally healed. Sally and I went to the train station to see him off.
The moment Jonathan’s train disappeared from sight, Sally gave up all pretense of bravery and fell into my arms, weeping. I rode home with her, trying my best to comfort her. The servants brought tea and pulled one of the parlor sofas close to the fire so we could warm ourselves after our farewell on the chilly train platform. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I didn’t carry on like this the last time Jonathan left.”
“Sally . . . have you fallen in love with him?” I asked gently.
She began weeping all over again. “I’ve spent so much time with him