drawn
up in battle line before the encampment. I took my place.

Behind us lay the camp, a wide, street-like space, fringed with a double
row of tents--at its foot the old log mansion; near that, a little in
front, but at one side, the flag of headquarters--this behind. Before us
the major--the western wood, and the flashing sabres of a band of
hostile cavalry. They came on heedless of the fast-emptying saddles, on,
_on_, and more following from the wood, the moon in the mid heaven,
clear like day.

A gallant charge--a firm repulse. Major Fanning's clear voice on the
night air, rallying the men to attack the furious foe. They sweep their
horses around to left, but calmly the major wheels his battalion, still
unflanked; again those fierce steeds try the first point of attack;
again we front them undaunted. In our turn, with lifted level bayonets
we charge; the enemy falls back--a shout threads along our lines,
changing suddenly into a wail, for, calling us on, our leader falls.
Pitiless to his noble valor, a well-aimed carbine-shot lays him low.
They lift him, some brave soldiers near; and, his young face bathed in
blood, they bear him to his waiting bride; he opens his eyes, as he
passes.

'Courage! victory! my boys!' he calls; then, seeing me: 'Go! tell her,
Robert.'

I call my orderly to my place, and before they have pierced our lines
with their beloved burden, I am at the tent door. She stands there
waiting, a little pistol in her hand--a light wrapper about her, and her
fair hair streaming over her shoulders. I look at her mutely; she knows
there is something terrible for her, and while I seek words, her eye
goes on, resting where down the moonlit trees they are bringing him. A
moment, she is by his side, and tearless and white, her hand on his
unanswering heart, she moves beside him. The soldiers lay their leader
on the ground under his flag, and her imperious gesture sends them back
to their places in the battle. And then she, sinking beside him, cries
out:

'Oh, Robert! will he never speak to me again? Help him!'

My two years at lectures had not been passed in vain, and surgery had
been my hobby. I knelt and strove to aid him. It was a cruel wound. I
asked for bandages. She tore them from her garments wildly. I stilled
the trickling crimson stream, and going into the tent, found some
restoratives. I poured the wine down his throat, and, soon opening his
eyes, he spoke:

'Grace!'

I stepped away--nea