e?
They feel so bitterly, and--and I do not blame them." The good lady put
down on her lap the night-shirt she was making. "I saw how it happened.
The girl was carried away by her pity. And, my dear, her capability
astonished me. One might have thought that she had always been a nurse.
The experience was a dreadful one for me--what must it have been for her.
After the operation was over, I followed her downstairs to where she was
standing with her father in front of the building, waiting for their
carriage. I felt that I must say something to her, for in all my life I
have never seen a nobler thing done. When I saw her there, I scarcely
knew what to say. Words seemed so inadequate. It was then three o'clock,
and she had been working steadily in that place since morning. I am sure
she could not have borne it much longer. Sheer courage carried her
through it, I know, for her hand trembled so when I took it, and she was
very pale. She usually has color, I believe. Her father, the Colonel, was
with her, and he bowed to me with such politeness. He had stood against
the wall all the while we had worked, and he brought a mattress for us. I
have heard that his house is watched, and that they have him under
suspicion for communicating with the Confederate leaders." Mrs. Brice
sighed. He seems such a fine character. I hope they will not get into any
trouble."

"I hope not, mother," said Stephen.

It was two mornings later that Judge Whipple and Stephen drove to the
Iron Mountain depot, where they found a German company of Home Guards
drawn up. On the long wooden platform under the sheds Stephen caught
sight of Herr Korner and Herr Hauptmann amid a group of their countrymen.
Little Korner came forward to clasp his hands. The tears ran on his
cheeks, and he could not speak for emotion. Judge Whipple, grim and
silent, stood apart. But he uncovered his head with the others when the
train rolled in. Reverently they entered a car where the pine boxes were
piled one on another, and they bore out the earthly remains of Captain
Carl Richter.

Far from the land of his birth, among those same oaks on Bloody Hill
where brave Lyon fell, he had gladly given up his life for the new
country and the new cause he had made his own.

That afternoon in the cemetery, as the smoke of the last salute to a hero
hung in the flickering light and drifted upward through the great trees,
as the still air was yet quivering with the notes of the bugle-call