Orleans. I know we couldn't do it. We'll watch our chance,--eh,
husband?--and put you through the lines; and not only that, but give
you letters to--why, dear," said the lady, turning to her partner in
good works, "you can give Mrs. Richling a letter to Governor Blank; and
another to General Um-hm, can't you? and--yes, and one to Judge Youknow.
Oh, they will take you anywhere! But first you'll stop with us till you
get well rested--a week or two, or as much longer as you will."

Mary pressed the speaker's hand.

"I can't stay."

"Oh, you know you needn't have the least fear of seeing any of John's
relatives. They don't live in this part of the State at all; and, even
if they did, husband has no business with them just now, and being a
Union man, you know"--

"I want to see my husband," said Mary, not waiting to hear what Union
sympathies had to do with the matter.

"Yes," said the lady, in a suddenly subdued tone. "Well, we'll get you
through just as quickly as we can." And soon they all began to put on
wraps and gather their luggage. Mary went with them to their home, laid
her tired head beside her child's in sleep, and late next morning rose
to hear that Fort Donelson was taken, and the Southern forces were
falling back. A day or two later came word that Columbus, on the
Mississippi, had been evacuated. It was idle for a woman to try just
then to perform the task she had set for herself. The Federal lines!

"Why, my dear child, they're trying to find the Confederate lines and
strike them. You can't lose anything--you may gain much--by remaining
quiet here awhile. The Mississippi, I don't doubt, will soon be open
from end to end."

A fortnight seemed scarcely more than a day when it was past, and
presently two of them had gone. One day comes Mr. Thornton, saying:--

"My dear child, I cannot tell you how I have the news, but you may
depend upon its correctness. New Orleans is to be attacked by the most
powerful naval expedition that ever sailed under the United States flag.
If the place is not in our hands by the first of April I will put you
through both lines, if I have to go with you myself." When Mary made no
answer, he added, "Your delays have all been unavoidable, my child!"

"Oh, I don't know; I don't know!" exclaimed Mary, with sudden
distraction; "it seems to me I _must_ be to blame, or I'd have been
through long ago. I ought to have _run through_ the lines. I ought to
have 'run the blockade.'"

"M