drawn together all the
farre-stretched greatnesse, all the pride, crueltie, and ambition
of men, and covered it all over with these two narrow words, Hic
jacet!"--SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

A month passed. Anne saw nothing more, heard nothing more, but toiled on
in her daily round. She taught and sang. She answered Miss Lois's
letters and those of Pere Michaux. There was no longer any danger in
writing to Weston, and she smiled sadly as she thought of the blind,
self-important days when she had believed otherwise. She now wrote to
her friends there, and letters came in return. Mrs. Barstow's pages were
filled with accounts of hospital work, for Donelson had been followed by
the great blood-shedding of Shiloh, and the West was dotted with
battle-fields.

She had allowed herself no newspapers, lest she should come upon his
name. But now she ordered one, and read it daily. What was it to her
even if she should come upon his name? She must learn to bear it, so
long as they trod the same earth. And one day she did come upon it; but
it was merely the two-line announcement that he had returned to the
front.

The great city had grown used to the war. There were few signs in its
busy streets that a pall hung over the borders of the South. The music
teacher on her rounds saw nothing save now and then the ranks of a
regiment passing through on its way to a train. Traffic went on
unchanged; pleasure was rampant as ever. The shrill voice of the newsboy
calling the details of the last battle was often the only reminder of
the dread reality. May moved onward. The Scheffels began to make those
little excursions into the country so dear to the German heart; but they
could not persuade the honored Fraeulein to accompany them. For it was
not the real country to which they went, but only that suburban
imitation of it which thrives in the neighborhood of New York, and
Anne's heart was back on her island in the cool blue Northern straits.
Miss Lois was now at home again, and her letters were like a breath of
life to the homesick girl. Little Andre was better, and Pere Michaux
came often to the church-house, and seemed glad to be with them again.
With them again! If she could but be with them too!--stand on the
heights among the beckoning larches, walk through the spicy aisles of
the arbor vitae, sit under the gray old pines, listening to the wash of
the cool blue water below, at rest, afar, afar from all this weariness
and sad