eleton whom Anne was fanning had tasted lemons at last,
and almost thought he was in heaven. Revived and more hopeful, he had
been talking to his nurse. "I should feel easier, miss, if I knew just
where our captain was. You see, there was a sort of a scrimmage, and
some of us got hurt. He wasn't hurt, but he was took down with the
fever, and so bad that we had to leave him behind at a farm-house. And
I've heard nothing since."

"Where was he left--far from here?"

"No; sing'lerly enough, 'twas the very next valley to this one. _We_
went in half a dozen directions after that, and tramped miles in the
mud, but he was left there. We put him in charge of a woman, who _said_
she'd take care of him, but I misdoubt her. She was a meaching-looking
creature."

"Probably, then, as you have heard nothing, he has recovered, and is
with his regiment again," said Anne, with the cheerful optimism which is
part of a nurse's duty.

"Yes, miss. And yet perhaps he ain't, you know. I thought mebbe you'd
ask the surgeon for me. I'm only a straggler here, anyway; the others
don't belong to my regiment. Heathcote was the name; Captain Ward
Heathcote. A city feller he was, but wuth a heap, for all that."

What was the matter with the nurse that she turned so pale? And now she
was gone! And without leaving the fan too. However, he could hardly have
held it. He found his little shred of lemon, lifted it to his dry lips,
and closed his eyes patiently, hardly remembering even what he had said.

Meanwhile Anne, still very pale, had drawn the surgeon outside the door,
and was questioning him. Yes, he knew that an officer had been left at
a farm-house over in the next valley; he had been asked to ride over and
see him. But how could he! As nothing had been heard from him since,
however, he was probably well by this time, and back with his regiment
again.

"Probably"--the very word she had herself used when answering the
soldier. How inactive and cowardly it seemed now! "I must go across to
this next valley," she said.

"My dear Miss Douglas!" said Dr. Flower, a grave, portly man, whose
ideas moved as slowly as his small fat-encircled eyes.

"I know a Mr. Heathcote; this may be the same person. The Mr. Heathcote
I know is engaged to a friend of mine, a lady to whom I am much
indebted. I must learn whether this officer in the next valley is he."

"But even if it is the same man, no doubt he is doing well over there.
Otherwise we should have