she leaned out into the street, and listened for the next roll
of the cannon.

A woman, with a scared face, looked up, saw her, and spoke hysterically.

"There's not a man left in the city," she cried. "They've taken my father
to defend the breastworks and he's near seventy. If you can sew or wash or
cook, there'll be work enough for you, God knows, to-morrow!"

She hurried on and Virginia, turning from the window, buried herself in the
pillows upon the bed, trying in vain to shut out the noise of the
cannonading and the perfume of the magnolia blossoms which came in on the
southern breeze. With night the guns grew silent and the streets empty, but
still the girl lay sleepless, watching with frightened eyes the shadow of
Mammy Riah's palm-leaf fan.

At dawn the restless murmur began again, and Virginia, looking out in the
hot sunrise, saw the crowd hastening back to the hospitals lower down. They
were all there, all as they had been the day before--old men limping out
for news or returning beside the wounded; women with trembling lips and
arms filled with linen; ambulances passing the corner at a walk, surrounded
by men who had staggered after them because there was no room left inside;
and following always the same curious, pallid throng, fresh upon the scent
of some new tragedy. Presently the ambulances gave out, and yet the wounded
came--some walking, and moaning as they walked, some borne on litters by
devoted servants, some drawn in market wagons pressed into use. The great
warehouses and the churches were thrown open to give them shelter, but
still they came and still the cry went up, "Room, more room!"

Virginia watched it all, leaning out to follow the wagons as they passed
the corner. The sight sickened her, but something that was half a ghastly
fascination, and half the terror of missing a face she knew, kept her hour
after hour motionless upon her knees. At each roll of the guns she gave a
nervous shiver and grew still as stone.

Then, as she knelt there, a man, in clerical dress, came down the pavement
and stopped before her window. "I hope your husband's wound was not
serious, Mrs. Morson," he said sympathetically. "If I can be of any
assistance, please don't hesitate to call on me."

"Jack wounded!--oh, he is not wounded," replied Virginia. She rose and
stood wildly looking down upon him.

He saw his mistake and promptly retracted what he could.

"If you don't know of it, it can't be true," he urge