ween us." And he took
it out of his pocket. "Have you seen the news?"

"No," says Lizzie, elongating her bonnet-ribbons. "What is it? Just look
at that party."

"There's not much news. There's been a scrimmage on the Rappahannock.
Two of our regiments engaged,--the Fifteenth and the Twenty-Eighth.
Didn't you tell me you had a cousin or something in the Fifteenth?"

"Not a cousin, no relation, but an intimate friend,--my guardian's son.
What does the paper say, please?" inquires Lizzie, very pale.

Bruce cast his eye over the report. "It doesn't seem to have amounted to
much; we drove back the enemy, and recrossed the river at our ease. Our
loss only fifty. There are no names," he added, catching a glimpse of
Lizzie's pallor,--"none in this paper at least."

In a few moments appeared a newsboy crying the New York journals.

"Do you think the New York papers would have any names?" asked Lizzie.

"We can try," said Bruce. And he bought a "Herald," and unfolded it.
"Yes, there _is_ a list," he continued, some time after he had opened
out the sheet. "What's your friend's name?" he asked, from behind the
paper.

"Ford,--John Ford, second lieutenant," said Lizzie.

There was a long pause.

At last Bruce lowered the sheet, and showed a face in which Lizzie's
pallor seemed faintly reflected.

"There _is_ such a name among the wounded," he said; and, folding the
paper down, he held it out, and gently crossed to the seat beside her.

Lizzie took the paper, and held it close to her eyes. But Bruce could
not help seeing that her temples had turned from white to crimson.

"Do you see it?" he asked; "I sincerely hope it's nothing very bad."

"_Severely_," whispered Lizzie.

"Yes, but that proves nothing. Those things are most unreliable. _Do_
hope for the best."

Lizzie made no answer. Meanwhile passengers had been brushing in, and
the car was full. The engine began to puff, and the conductor to shout.
The train gave a jog.

"You'd better go, Sir, or you'll be carried off," said Lizzie, holding
out her hand, with her face still hidden.

"May I go on to the next station with you?" said Bruce.

Lizzie gave him a rapid look, with a deepened flush. He had fancied that
she was shedding tears. But those eyes were dry; they held fire rather
than water.

"No, no, Sir; you must not. I insist. Good bye."

Bruce's offer had cost him a blush, too. He had been prepared to back it
with the assurance that he had business ah