t.

As she accompanied Electra to the room prepared for her, on the night of
her arrival, the latter asked, with ill-concealed emotion--

"Irene, can you tell me anything about Russell? I am very anxious to hear
something of him."

Irene placed the silver lamp on the table, and standing in its glow,
answered quietly--

"He was wounded in the arm at Manassa, but retains command of his regiment,
and is doing very well. Dr. Arnold is the regimental surgeon, and in one of
his letters to me he mentioned that your cousin's wound was not serious."

"I am going to him immediately."

"Unfortunately, you will not be allowed to do so. The wounded were removed
to Richmond as promptly as possible, but your cousin remained at Manassa,
where ladies are not permitted."

"Then I will write to him to meet me in Richmond."

Irene made no reply, and, watching her all the while, Electra asked--

"When did you see him last? How did he look?"

"The day before he started to Richmond. He was very well, I believe, but
looked harassed and paler than usual. He is so robust, however, that I
think you need entertain no apprehension concerning his health."

The inflexible features, the low, clear, firm voice were puzzling, and
Electra's brow thickened and darkened as she thought--

"Her father is dead now; there is no obstacle remaining. She must love
him, and yet she gives no sign of interest."

Two days later, they sat together before one of the parlour windows.
Electra was engaged in tearing off and rolling bandages, while Irene slowly
scraped lint from a quantity of old linen, which filled a basket at her
side. Neither had spoken for some time; the sadness of their occupation
called up gloomy thoughts; but finally Electra laid down a roll of cloth,
and, interlacing her slight fingers, said--

"Irene, the women of the South must exercise an important influence in
determining our national destiny; and because I felt this so fully, I
hurried home to share the perils, and privations, and trials of my
countrywomen. It is not my privilege to enter the army, and wield a sword
or musket; but I am going to true womanly work--into the crowded hospitals,
to watch faithfully over sick and wounded."

"I approve your plan, think it your duty, and wish that I could start to
Richmond with you to-morrow--for I believe that in this way we may save
valuable lives. You should, as you have said, go on at once; you have
nothing to keep you; your work