be.... But--to see a man near death--and to care for him a little--even
a rebel--and to know that one word might save him--only one little
disloyal word!"

"No man would save _you_ at that expense," said the Nurse disdainfully.
"I know men."

"Do you? I don't--in that way. There was once an officer--a
noncombatant. I could have loved him.... Once there was a Confederate
cavalryman. I struck him senseless with my revolver-butt--and I might
have--cared for him. He was very young.... I never can forget him. It is
hard, dear, the business I am engaged in.... But it has never spoiled my
interest in men--or my capacity for loving one of them. I am afraid I am
easily moved."

She rose and stood erect, to adjust her soft riding hat, her youthfully
slender figure in charming relief against the window.

"Won't you let me brew a little tea for you?" asked the Nurse. "Don't
leave me so soon."

"When do you go on duty?"

"In about ten minutes. It will be easier to-morrow, when we send our
sick North. Will you come in to-morrow?"

The Special Messenger shook her head dreamily.

"I don't know--I don't know.... Good-by."

"Are _you_ going on duty?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Now."

The Nurse rose and put both arms around her.

"I am so afraid for you," she said; "and it has been so good to see
you.... I don't know whether we'll ever meet again----"

Her voice was obliterated in the noisy outburst of bugles sounding the
noon sick-call.

They went out together, where the Messenger's horse was tied under the
trees. Beyond, through the pines, glimmered the tents of an emergency
hospital. And now, in the open air not very far away, they could hear
picket firing.

"Do be careful," said the blue-eyed Nurse. "They say you do such
audacious things; and every day somebody says you have been taken, or
hanged, or shot. Dear, you are so young and so pretty----"

"So are you. Don't catch fever or smallpox or die from a scratch from a
poisoned knife.... Good-by once more."

They kissed each other. A hospital orderly, passing hurriedly, stopped
to hold her stirrup; she mounted, thanked the orderly, waved a smiling
adieu to her old schoolmate, and, swinging her powerful horse westward,
trotted off through the woods, passing the camp sentinels with a nod and
a low-spoken word.

Farther out in the woods she encountered the first line of pickets;
showed her credentials, then urged her horse forward at a gallop.

"Not that way!" sho