cantering
away through the tents and heading straight for the front. It was not,
however, only the gray Arab she carried off, but the great letter of the
lawyer was gone too; and so now every one knew at once she was away to
the front."

"And after that,--after that?" asked three or four together, as the
narrator paused.

"After that," resumed he, "there is little to be told. Colthorpe's Arab
galloped back with a ball in his counter, and the saddle torn to rags
with shot. The girl has not been heard of."

"I can supply this portion of the story," said a young fellow, with his
arm in a sling. "She had come up with Conway, whom they had placed on
a horse, and were leading him back to the lines, when a Russian
skirmishing-party swept past and carried the girl off, and she is now in
Sebastopol, under the care of the Countess Woronzoff."

"And Conway?"

"Conway's here; and though he has, between shot and sabre-cuts, eight
severe wounds, they say that, but for his anxiety about this girl's
fate, his chances of recovery are not so bad. Here comes Dr. Raikes,
however, who could give us the latest tidings of him."

The gentleman thus alluded to moved hastily down the hall, followed by
a numerous train of assistants, to whom he gave his orders as he went
He continued, at the same time, to open and run his eyes over various
letters which an assistant handed to him, one by one.

"I will not be tormented with these requests, Parkes," said he,
peremptorily. "You are to refuse all applications to see patients who
are not in the convalescent wards. These interviews have, invariably,
one effect,--they double _our_ labor here."

By this time the doctor was hemmed closely in by a dense crowd, eagerly
asking for news of some dear friend or kinsman. A brief "Badly,"
"Better," "Sinking," "Won't do," were, in general, the extent of his
replies; but in no case did he ever seem at a loss as to the name or
circumstance of the individual alluded to.

And now, at last, the great hall began to thin. Wrapping themselves well
in their warm cloaks, securing the hoods tightly over their heads, men
set out in twos and threes, on foot, on horseback, or in arabas, some
for the camp, some for Balaklava, and some for the far-away quarter at
the extreme right, near the Tchernaya. A heavy snow was falling, and a
cold and cutting wind came over the Black Sea, and howled drearily along
the vaulted corridors of the old Convent.

Matter enough for s