d onward for some moments without a word. At a short distance
from the building, they came upon a black groom holding two saddled
horses.

"Mount, sir, if you please," said Beverly, and they rode forward at a
rapid pace. Philip was somewhat surprised to observe that their course
lay away from the camp, and in fact the sounds of military life were
lessening as they went on. They passed the brow of the hill and
descended by a bridle-path into a little valley, thick with shrubbery
and trees. At the gateway of a pleasant looking cottage Beverly drew
rein.

"I must ask you to enter here," he said, dismounting. "Within a few
hours we shall both be, probably, in the ranks of battle; but first I
have a duty to perform."

They entered the cottage, within which all was hushed and still; the
sounds of an active household were not heard. They ascended the little
stair, and Beverly pushed gently open the door of an apartment and
motioned to Philip to enter. He paused at first, for as he stood on the
threshold a low sob reached his ear.

"Pass in," said Beverly, in a grave, stern tone. "I have promised that I
would bring you, else, be assured, I would not linger in your presence."

They entered. It was a small, pleasant room, and through the lattice
interwoven with woodbine the rising sun looked in like a friendly
visitor. Upon a bed was stretched the form of a young girl, sleeping or
dead, it would be hard to tell, the features were so placid and
beautiful in repose. One ray of sunlight fell among the tangles of her
golden hair, and glowed like a halo above the marble-white brow. The
long dark lashes rested upon her cheek with a delicate contrast like
that of the velvety moss when it peeps from the new-fallen snow. Her
hands were folded upon her bosom above the white coverlet; they clasped
a lily, that seemed as if sculptured upon a churchyard stone, so white
was the flower, so white the bosom that it pressed. One step nearer
revealed that she was dead; earthly sleep was never so calm and
beautiful. By the bedside Oriana Weems was seated, weeping silently.
She arose when her brother entered, and went to him, putting her hands
about his neck. Beverly tenderly circled his arm about her waist, and
they stood together at the bedside, gazing on all that death had left
upon earth of their young cousin, Miranda.

"She died this morning very soon after you left," said Oriana, "without
pain and I think without sorrow, for she wore tha