e at me, Letty."

She turned toward him a face, pallid, enraptured, transfigured with
an inward radiance that left him silent--graver after that swift
glimpse of a soul exalted.

She said slowly: "You and Ailsa have been God's own messengers to
me. . . . I shall tell Dr. Benton. . . . If he still wishes it, I
will marry him. It will be for him to ask--after he knows all."

Celia entered, carrying the breakfast on a tray.

"Curt's Zouaves have stolen ev'y pig, but I found bacon and po'k in
the cellar," she said, smilingly. "Oh, dear! the flo' is in such a
mess of plaster! Will you sit on the aidge of the bed, Miss
Lynden, and he'p my cousin eat this hot co'n pone?"

So the napkin was spread over the sheets, and pillows tucked behind
Berkley; and Celia and Letty fed him, and Letty drank her coffee
and thankfully ate her bacon and corn pone, telling them both,
between bites, how it had been with her and with Ailsa since the
great retreat set in, swamping all hospitals with the sick and
wounded of an unbeaten but disheartened army, now doomed to
decimation by disease.

"It was dreadful," she said. "We could hear the firing for miles
and miles, and nobody knew what was happening. But all the
northern papers said it was one great victory after another, and we
believed them. All the regimental bands at the Landing played; and
everybody was so excited. We all expected to hear that our army
was in Richmond."

Celia reddened to the ears, and her lips tightened, but she said
nothing; and Letty went on, unconscious of the fiery emotions
awaking in Celia's breast:

"Everybody was so cheerful and happy in the hospital--all those
poor sick soldiers," she said, "and everybody was beginning to plan
to go home, thinking the war had nearly ended. I thought so, too,
and I was so glad. And then, somehow, people began to get uneasy;
and the first stragglers appeared. . . . Oh, it did seem
incredible at first; we wouldn't believe that the siege of Richmond
had been abandoned."

She smiled drearily. "I've found out that it is very easy to
believe what you want to believe in this world. . . . Will you
have some more broth, Mr. Berkley?"

Before he could answer the door opened and a red zouave came in,
carrying his rifle and knapsack.

"Mother," he said in an awed voice, "Jimmy Lent is dead!"

"What!"

He looked stupidly around the room, resting his eyes on Letty and
Berkley, then dropped heavily onto a chair.