ent off to Germany, to
study, and never a word was mentioned: he held his head high, the
Captain did!

We got news regular from little Essie White, that Miss Lisbet's outworn
dresses used to go to. She used to read an hour a day, did Miss
Lisbet, to Essie's mother, who went blind, and she stocked Essie with
flannels and such, as she grew. I trained her in as kitchen maid when
I was at The Cedars, and when help turned out so poor and scarce in the
West--all ignorant Paddies, as we called them then--she sent to me and
I sped Essie out to her, and a good job, too, for she was in no state
to be worrying out her precious health over dust and dirt and victuals!

Essie wrote us long letters, how Miss Lisbet was the belle of the post
and had a night school for the private soldiers started, with officers'
ladies to teach, and took all the charge of the little hospital. Mrs.
Jarvis sent her rules and saving ways and many clever contrivances from
all her experience in the South, and long after the La Salles left that
post the night school was kept up--and may be now, for aught I know,
for it seemed that all she planted, grew. Balls they gave and private
theatricals and riding parties, and Essie said she was happy as the day
was long, but for that she felt she might have done so much for the
world with Madam's money. She wanted schools in all the army posts and
the negroes taught farming and goodness knows what not, you see.

But when little Louis came there was no time for all that, I promise
you! It broke my heart not to be with her, but mother was failing,
slow but sure, and 'twould have been sin to leave her.

But I heard all his sweet ways and when he was creeping, and how he
called my poor old picture "Dody" (bless him!) and hardly was he ready
for his kilts but his brother was stepping into his shoes! Named for
her father he was, and the image of the first, that was the image of
the Major. She took the care of them mostly, herself, for she didn't
like the rough girls out there, and had only Essie and a woman for
washing, and I didn't need Essie's letters to tell me she was tired and
worn-like. It seemed a poor kind of life for one that had had a half
dozen of servants and gardens and grape houses and her
saddle-horse--but she wouldn't have changed for Windsor Castle, I well
knew.

And next I heard, they were to move, very sudden, and the garden just
planted and all, and worst of all, Essie had lost her heart to