In Jim
Wetherby's estimation, Cap and Bart Martine were the two heroes of
the war.
The latter had found the right antidote. Not a moment was left for
morbid brooding. On every side were sharp physical distress,
deadly peril to life and limb, pathetic efforts to hold ground
against diseases or sloughing wounds. In aiding such endeavor, in
giving moral support and physical care, Martine forgot himself.
Helen's letters also were an increasing inspiration. He could
scarcely take up one of them and say, "Here her words begin to
have a warmer tinge of feeling;" but as spring advanced,
imperceptibly yet surely, in spite of pauses and apparent
retrogressions, just so surely she revealed a certain warmth of
sympathy. He was engaged in a work which made it easy for her to
idealize him. His unselfish effort to help men live, to keep
bitter tears from the eyes of their relatives, appealed most
powerfully to all that was unselfish in her nature, and she was
beginning to ask, "If I can make this man happier, why should I
not do so?" Nichol's letter gained a new meaning in the light of
events: "I do not ask you to forget me--that would be worse than
death--but I ask you to try to be happy and to make others happy.
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