such a strange
disposition; but since you took matters so completely in your own hands,
you have only yourself to reproach. Irene, I very often wonder whether you
have any heart--for it seems to me that if you have, it would have been won
by the devotion which has been lavished on you more than once. You are the
only woman I ever knew who appeared utterly incapable of love; and I
sometimes wonder what will become of you when I am dead."

"God will protect me. I look continually to His guardianship. I won't keep
you awake any longer, as you have a tedious journey before you. Good night,
my dear father."

She kissed him tenderly and left him, closing the door softly behind her.

A spectral crescent moon flickered in the sky, and stars still burned in
the violet East, when the carriage drove to the door, and Irene followed
her father to the steps.

Even in that dim, uncertain grey light he could see that her face was rigid
and haggard, and tears filled his cold, brilliant eyes as he folded her to
his heart.

"Good-bye, Beauty. Cheer up, my brave child! and look on the bright side.
After all, I may come back a brigadier-general, and make you one of my
staff-officers! You shall be my adjutant, and light up my office with your
golden head. Take care of yourself till Eric comes, and write to me often.
Good-bye, my dear, my darling daughter."

She trembled convulsively, pressing her lips repeatedly to his.

"Oh, may God bless you, my father, and bring you safely back to me!"

He unwound her arms, put her gently aside, and stepped into the carriage.

William, the cook, who was to accompany him, stood sobbing near the door,
and now advancing, grasped her hand.

"Good-bye, Miss Irene. May the Lord protect you all till we come back."

"William, I look to you to take care of father, and let me know at once if
anything happens."

"I will, Miss Irene. I promise you I will take good care of master, and
telegraph you if he is hurt."

He wrung her hand, the carriage rolled rapidly away, and the
sorrow-stricken, tearless woman sat down on the steps and dropped her head
in her hands.

CHAPTER XXVII

HOSPITAL STORES

To those who reside at the convulsed throbbing heart of a great revolution,
a lifetime seems compressed into the compass of days and weeks; and men and
women are conscious of growing prematurely old while watching the rushing,
thundering tramp of events, portentous with the fate of nations. W----
pr