to serve your
country in, a remarkable way; but as to the how and when, you must
leave it to the future to show."

"And you think that such a service will be at the end of my trouble?"

"I think so," said he; "the laws of the mental world, in my judgment,
require that your recovery should follow the period concerning which
your factitious memory is brightest."

"But how can a private soldier serve his country in a remarkable way?" I
said, wondering.

"Wait," said he.

The Doctor filled his pipe and became silent. Lydia was not on duty this
night. She had listened gravely to what had been said. Now she looked up
with a faint smile, which I thought meant that she was willing for me to
talk to her and yet reluctant to be the first to speak, not knowing
whether I had need of silence. I had begun to have a high opinion of
Lydia's character.

"And you went to school in Bombay?"

"Yes, at first."

I was not willing to show a bald curiosity concerning her, and I suppose
my hesitation was expressed in my face, for she presently continued.

"I studied and worked in the British hospital; you must know that I am a
nurse with some training. Father was very willing for me to become a
nurse, for he said that there would be war in America, and that nurses
would be needed."

Then, turning to the Doctor, she said, "Father, Mr. Berwick asked me
to-day when it was that we sailed from Charleston, and I was unable to
tell him."

"The third of September, 1857," said the Doctor.

I remembered that this was my sister's birthday and also the very day on
which I had written to Dr. Khayme that I should not return to
Charleston. The coincidence and its bearing on my affliction disturbed
me so that I could not readily continue my part of the conversation,
and Lydia soon retired.

"Doctor," said I, "to-morrow morning I shall be ready to report to my
company."

"Very well, Jones," he said, "act according to your conscience; I shall
see you frequently. There will be no more battles in this part of the
country for a long time, and it will not be difficult for you to get
leave of absence when you wish to see us. Besides, I am thinking of
moving our camp nearer to you."

VII

A SECOND DISASTER

"Our fortune on the sea is out of breath.
And sinks most lamentably."--SHAKESPEARE.

The winter brought an almost endless routine of drill, guard, and picket
duty and digging.

The division was on duty near Budd's Ferry. D