y magnificence
of war, and none will take warning till the land shall be desolate, and
thousands, stricken in their prime, shall be sleeping--where I shall
soon be--beneath the cold sod. I am weary, mother, and chill. Let us go
in."

They bore him in and helped him to his bed, where he lay pale and
silent, seeming much worse from the fatigue of conversation and the
excitement of his meeting with his old college friend. Mrs. Wayne left
him in charge of Harold, while she went below to prepare what little
nourishment he could take, and to provide refreshment for her guest.

Arthur lay, for a space, with his eyes closed, and apparently in sleep.
But he looked up, at last, and stretched out his hand to Harold, who
pressed the thin fingers, whiter than the coverlet on which they rested.

"Is mother there?"

"No, Arthur," replied Harold. "Shall I call her?"

"No. I thought to have spoken to you, to-morrow, of something that has
been often my theme of thought; but I know not what strange feeling has
crept upon me; and perhaps, Harold--for we know not what the morrow may
bring--perhaps I had better speak now."

"It hurts you, Arthur; you are too weak. Indeed, you must sleep now, and
to-morrow we shall talk."

"No; now, Harold. It will not hurt me, or if it does, it matters little
now. Harold, I would fain that no shadow of unkindness should linger
between us twain when I am gone."

"Why should there, Arthur? You have been my true friend always, and as
such shall I remember you."

"Yet have I wronged you; yet have I caused you much grief and
bitterness, and only your own generous nature preserved us from
estrangement. Harold, have you heard from _her_?"

"I have seen her, Arthur. During my captivity, she was my jailer; in my
sickness, for I was slightly wounded, she was my nurse. I will tell you
all about it to-morrow."

"Yes, to-morrow," replied Arthur, breathing heavily. "To-morrow! the
word sounds meaningless to me, like something whose significance has
left me. Is she well, Harold?"

"Yes."

"And happy?"

"I think so, Arthur. As happy as any of us can be, amid severed ties and
dread uncertainties."

"I am glad that she is well. Harold, you will tell her, for I am sure
you will meet again, you will tell her it was my dying wish that you two
should be united. Will you promise, Harold?"

"I will tell her all that you wish, Arthur."

"I seem to feel that I shall be happy in my grave, to know that, she
will