gue and his ear to the sound, and not be on the instant betrayed
into calling the name which he so often uttered in his thoughts. He said
over some civil, kindly words of greeting, and endeavored to call up,
and arrange in order, a theme upon which he should converse. "I shall
not dare to be silent," he thought, "for if I am, my silence will tell
the tale; and if that do not, she will hear it from the throbbings of my
heart. I don't know though,"--he laughed a little, as he spoke
aloud,--bitterly it would have been, had his voice been capable of
bitterness,--"perhaps she will think the organism of the poor thing has
become diseased in camp and fightings,"--putting his hand up to his
throat and holding the swollen veins, where the blood was beating
furiously.

Presently he went down stairs and out to the street, in pursuit of some
cut flowers which he found in a little cellar, a stone's throw from his
hotel,--a fresh, damp little cellar, which smelt, he could not help
thinking, like a grave. Coming out to the sunshine, he shook himself
with disgust. "Faugh!" he thought, "what sick fancies and sentimental
nonsense possess me? I am growing unwholesome. My dreams of the other
night have come back to torment me in the day. These must put them to
flight."

The fancy which had sent him in pursuit of these flowers he confessed to
be a childish one, but none the less soothing for that. He had
remembered that the first day he beheld her a nosegay had decorated his
button-hole; a fair, sweet-scented thing which seemed, in some subtle
way, like her. He wanted now just such another,--some mignonette, and
geranium, and a single tea-rosebud. Here they were,--the very
counterparts of those which he had worn on a brighter and happier day.
How like they were! how changed was he! In some moods he would have
smiled at this bit of girlish folly as he fastened the little thing over
his heart; now, something sounded in his throat that was pitifully like
a sob. Don't smile at him! he was so young; so impassioned, yet gentle;
and then he loved so utterly with the whole of his great, sore heart.

By and by the time came to go, and eager, yet fearful, he went. It was
a fresh, beautiful day in early June; and when the city, with its heat,
and dust, and noise, was left behind, and all the leafy greenness--the
soothing quiet of country sights and country sounds--met his ear and
eye, a curious peace took possession of his soul. It was less the
whi