to
flight, was a rebel captain, of northern parentage, who came south a few
years ago, married a southern belle, became a slaveholder, joined the
slaveholders' rebellion in consequence, and lost his life in defence of
Roanoke Island. He lived long enough to recognize in the drummer boy
_his own younger brother_, and died in his arms."

Great was the agitation into which the family was thrown by this
intelligence.

"O that I had the wings of a dove!" said Mrs. Manly. "For I must go, I
must go to my child!"

Pride and joy in his youthful heroism, pain and grief for the other's
tragic end, all was absorbed in the dreadful uncertainty which hung about
the welfare of the favorite son; and she knew that not all the attentions
and praises of men could make up to him, there on his sick bed, for the
absence of his mother.

The family waited, however,--in what anguish of suspense need not to be
told,--until the next mail brought them letters from Mr. Egglestone and
Captain Edney. By these, their worst fears were confirmed. Exposure,
fatigue, excitement, the wound he had received, had done their work with
Frank. He was dangerously ill with a fever.

"O, dear!" groaned Mr. Manly, "this wicked, this wicked rebellion! George
is killed, and now Frank! What can we do? what can we do, mother?" he
asked, helplessly.

While he was groaning, his wife rose up with that energy which so often
atoned for the lack of it in him.

"I am going to Roanoke Island! I am going to my child in the hospital!"

That very day she set out. Alone she went, but she was not long without a
companion. On the boat to Fortress Monroe she saw a solitary and
disconsolate young woman, whose face she was confident of having seen
somewhere before. She accosted her, found her going the same journey with
herself, and on a similar errand, and learned her history.

"My husband, that I was married to at the cars just as his regiment was
leaving Boston, has been shot at Roanoke Island, and whether he is alive
or dead I do not know."

"Your husband," said Mrs. Manly,--"my son knows him well. They were close
friends!"

And from that moment the mother of Frank and the wife of Atwater were
close friends also, supporting and consoling each other on the journey.

XXXIII.

A FRIEND IN NEED.

At Roanoke Island, a certain tall, lank, athletic private had been
detailed for fatigue duty at the landing,