een here."

"Yes; I passed him on the steps; we rode up together from camp. He came on
special business, and returns at daylight; but I shall remain several days,
and hope to be with you as much as the nature of your engagements will
permit. Aubrey is from W----; you know him, of course?"

"Yes, I know him."

He saw a shade of regret drift over her countenance, and added--

"I have many things to say to you, and much to learn concerning your past;
but this is not the time or place for such interchange of thought and
feeling. To-morrow we will talk; to-night I could not repress my impatience
to see you, though but for a few moments."

She drew a chair near young Walton, the wounded boy, and seating herself,
continued--

"When independence is obtained, and white-robed Peace spreads her stainless
hands in blessing over us, let history proclaim, and let our people
reverently remember, that to the uncomplaining fortitude and sublime
devotion of the private soldiers of the Confederacy, not less than to the
genius of our generals and the heroism of our subordinate officers, we are
indebted for Freedom."

She laid her head close to the boy's mouth to listen to his low breathing,
and the minister saw her tears fall on his pillow and gleam on his auburn
locks. The delirium seemed to have given place to the dreamless sleep of
exhaustion, and folding one of her hands around his fingers, with the other
she softly stroked the silky hair from his fair, smooth forehead.

"Irene, will my presence here aid or comfort you? If so I will remain till
morning."

"No; you can do no good. It is midnight now, and you must be wearied with
your long ride. You cannot help me here, but to-morrow I shall want you to
go with me to the cemetery. I wish his family to have the sad consolation
of knowing that a minister knelt at his grave, when we laid the young
patriot in his last resting-place. Good-bye, my brother, till then. Electra
is in the next room; will you go in and speak to her?"

"No; I will see her early in the morning."

He left her to keep alone her solemn vigil; and through the remaining hours
of that starry June night she stirred not from the narrow cot--kept her
fingers on the sufferer's fleeting pulse, her eyes on his whitening face.
About three o'clock he moaned, struggled slightly, and looked intently at
her. She gave him some brandy, and found that he swallowed with great
difficulty.

Slowly a half-hour rolled away; Ire