"Show her in
here at once, orderly."

He had intended to seek her in her house in the course of the morning
and break the melancholy news to her that the torpedo boat was lost in
all probability with all on board, for from her agitation on the wharf
he inferred that her affections were bestowed upon Lacy. He was very
sorry for her, of course; but knowing Lacy as he had, and estimating
Fanny Glen as he did, there was a certain sense of relief that she
would not be condemned to a lifetime of misery which such a marriage
would inevitably have entailed. Still he pitied her profoundly, and he
pitied her more when she came into the private office in the wake of
the orderly and threw back her veil. Her beautiful face showed the
sorrow under which she labored. Suffering had thrown a blight upon it.
The freshness and youth seemed to have departed from it. She was a
piteous little spectacle indeed.

The general received her with the utmost cordiality and consideration.
He handed her to a chair, and bade the orderly see that they were not
disturbed on any account.

"Miss Fanny," he began gently--the war had brought the general and the
brave girl very close together--"I was coming over to see you in a
little while. You have shown yourself a brave little woman many times.
You need all your courage now."

"Yes, General," said the girl, faintly, "I know."

"You have sustained a terrible loss."

"Is--is--Mr. Sempland--?"

"He is well enough at present. I refer to your friend, Major Lacy."

"Is he--?"

"I am sorry to say that in all probability he has lost his life in the
torpedo boat. We can get no tidings of her or of any of her crew. She
must have sunk with the ship."

"Did they succeed, sir?" interrupted Fanny Glen with an anxiety and an
apprehension too great to be controlled.

"They did," returned Beauregard, somewhat surprised at her question,
"but the torpedo boat, I think, went down with the ship she blew up; at
any rate no one has seen her or any of her crew since the explosion. I
knew that it was almost certain death to them."

Fanny Glen sank back in the chair. She almost lost consciousness in her
agony. She murmured strange and incoherent words. The general did not
understand them, but he rose, came to her side, bent over her and took
her hand, patting it softly.

"I know, I know, my dear child," he said gently, "how you must suffer.
Many another woman has had to give up her heart's desire for our
beloved