"Jim's dead," he repeated vacantly. "He only arrived here
yesterday--transferred from his militia to McDunn's battery. And
now he's dead. Some one had better write to Camilla. I'm afraid
to. . . . A shell hit him last night--oh--he's all torn to
pieces--and Major Lent doesn't know it, either. . . . Father let
me come; we're ordered across the river; good-bye, mother--" He
rose and put his arms around her.

"You'll write to Camilla, won't you?" he said. "Tell her I love
her. I didn't know it until just a few minutes ago. But I do,
mother. I'd like to marry her. Tell her not to cry too much.
Jimmy was playing cards, they say, and a big shell fell inside the
redoubt. Philip--I think you knew Harry Sayre? Transferred from
the 7th to the Zouaves as lieutenant in the 5th company?"

"Yes. Was he killed?"

"Oh, Lord, yes; everybody in the shebang except Arthur Wye was all
torn to pieces. Tommy Atherton, too; you knew him, of course--5th
Zouaves. He happened in--just visiting Arthur Wye. They were all
playing cards in a half finished bomb-proof. . . . Mother, you
_will_ write to Camilla, won't you, dear? Good-bye--good-bye,
Phil--and Miss Lynden!" He caught his mother in his arms for a
last hug, wrenched himself free, and ran back across the hall,
bayonet and canteen clanking.

"Oh, why are they sending Curt's regiment across the river?" wailed
Celia, following to the window. "Look at them, Phil! Can you see?
The road is full of Zouaves--there's a whole regiment of them in
blue, too. The batteries are all harnessed up; do you think
there's going to be another battle? I don't know why they want to
fight any mo'!" she exclaimed in sudden wrath and anguish. "I
don't understand why they are not willing to leave the South alone.
My husband will be killed, and my only son--like Jimmy Lent--if
they don't ever stop this wicked fighting----"

The roar of a heavy gun buried the room in plaster dust. Letty
calmly lifted the tray from the bed and set it on a table. Then
very sweetly and with absolute composure she took leave of Celia
and of Berkley. They saw her climb into an ambulance which was
drawn up on the grass.

Then Berkley opened the letter that Letty had brought him:

"This is just a hurried line to ask you a few questions. Do you
know a soldier named Arthur Wye? He is serving now as artilleryman
in the 10th N. Y. Flying Battery, Captain McDunn. Are you
acquainted with a lieutenant in