her own, opening from our common
sitting-room. Frank shook hands with Mr. Bowen; kissed Mrs. Bowen
dutifully, and cordially too; gave me one strong clasp in his arms, and
one kiss; then went after Josephine. I closed the door softly behind
him. In five minutes by the ticking clock he came out, and strode
through the room without a glance at either of us. I had heard her say
"Good bye" in her sweet, clear tone, just as he opened the door; but
some instinct impelled me to go in to her at once: she lay in a dead
faint on the floor.

We left Washington that afternoon, and went straight back to Ridgefield.
Josey was in and out of my small house continually: but for her father
and mother, I think she would have stayed with me from choice. Rare
letters came from Frank, and were always reported to me, but, of course,
never shown. If there was any change in her manner, it was more steadily
affectionate to her father and mother than ever; the fitful, playful
ways of her girlhood were subdued, but, except to me, she showed no
symptom of pain, no show of apprehension: with me alone she sometimes
drooped and sighed. Once she laid her little head on my neck, and,
holding me to her tightly, half sobbed,--

"Oh, I wish--I wish I could see him just for once!"

I could not speak to answer her.

As rumors of a march toward Manassas increased, Mr. and Mrs. Bowen took
her to Dartford: there was no telegraph-line to Ridgefield, and but one
daily mail, and now a day's delay of news might be a vital loss. I could
not go with them; I was too ill. At last came that dreadful day of Bull
Run. Its story of shame and blood, trebly exaggerated, ran like fire
through the land. For twenty-four long hours every heart in Ridgefield
seemed to stand still; then there was the better news of fewer dead
than the first report, and we knew that the enemy had retreated, but no
particulars. Another long, long day, and the papers said Colonel ----'s
regiment was cut to pieces; the fourth mail told another story: the
regiment was safe, but Captains Addison, Black, and--Jones, I think,
were missing. The fifth day brought me a letter from Mr. Bowen. Frank
was dead, shot through the heart, before the panic began, cheering on
his men; he had fallen in the very front rank, and his gallant company,
at the risk of their lives, after losing half their number as wounded or
killed, had brought off his body, and carried it with them in retreat,
to find at last that they h