y effort at self-control, and trembles, too, through the
very coldness of the tone. "Colonel Putnam is not far off. There are
others whom you might like to see; and shall I send Rix to you?"

"No--not now--no use. Promise me this, Abbot. No matter where or how I'm
buried--never mind coffin, or the flag, or the volleys, or the prayers;
I don't deserve--They won't help me. _You_ see to it, will you, that
this is buried on my heart? It's her picture, and some letters.
Promise."

Abbot slowly bows his head.

"I promise, Hollins, if it will comfort you."

"If there were only some way--some way to tell her. I loved her so. She
might forgive when she knew how I died. You may see her, Abbot. Stop!
take these three letters; they're addressed to you, anyway. Take them to
her, by and by, and tell her, will you? but let the picture go with me."

The clutching fingers of one hand clasp about the slim envelope that
contains the little photograph; the fingers of the other hand are
plucking nervously at the blanket that is thrown over the dying man.
There is another moment of silence, and then Abbot again asks him if he
will have his brother brought to him. Hollins nods, and Abbot goes to
the door and whispers a few words to the orderly. When he returns a
feeble hand gropes its way towards him, and Hollins looks up
appealingly.

"I'm so much weaker. I'm going fast. Would you shake hands, Abbot? What!
Then you bear me no ill-will?"

"I do not, Hollins."

The clouding eyes seem to seek his wistfully, wonderingly.

"And yet--I wronged you so."

"Do not think of me. That--all came right."

"I know--I know. It is _her_ heart I may have broken--Bessie's. My God!
What could she have thought when he came back to her--after seeing you?"

"He told her her lover was dead. I made inquiries."

"Thank God for that! But all the same--she is sorrowing--suffering--and
it's all my doing. I believe I could die content, almost happy, if I
knew she had not--if I knew--I had not--brought her misery."

"Are you sure, Hollins?"

"Sure! Heaven, yes! Why, Abbot? Do you--do _you_ know?"

"She seems happy, Hollins. She is to be married in the spring; I don't
know just when."

[Illustration: "_Draws forth her precious picture and lays it at a
rival's feet._"]

There is another moment of intense silence in the little room. Outside
the muffled tramp of the night patrols and the gruff challenge of
sentries fall faintly on the ear. Within there