both. The old man's eyes did not
unclose, but the young girl's looked around with a startled glance; she
rose to her feet, clasped her hands imploringly, while so sad and
beseeching an expression rested upon her face, that she might have been
the discarded Peri pleading for her lost place in heaven,--and said:

"Go away, please! Grandfather is dying. Don't disturb him--please
don't!"

"My poor girl, we do not mean to disturb him, or you," said Crawford,
advancing a little way towards the side of the pallet, and throwing into
his voice all its native sympathy and kindness. "We are friends."

"Marion, who is that?" asked the old man, feebly. He had before shown
that his eyes were affected by the light, and made a motion to rise,
which brought the young girl at once to her knees again beside him, with
her hand and arm affectionately round his head.

"I do not know, grandpa! They are soldiers--two soldiers."

"Tell them to go away--_ask_ them to go away, and let me die in peace!"
said the old man, his voice still feeble, and his utterance difficult as
before.

"I have asked them, grandpa, and they will not go," said the young girl,
her tones, strangely enough, even in characterizing what she must have
felt to be an outrage, expressing no feeling of anger, but soft and low
as flute notes of the lower register.

"We do not wish to intrude. We will go away," said Crawford.

"Ah!" said the old man, a perceptible shadow passing over his face,
"that was the voice of a _gentleman_! Ask him who he is, Marion. But he
must be a rebel," and the old man went on, his voice falling still lower
as if he was speaking to himself. "He must be a rebel, for McClellan
has been beaten and driven back. They have been fighting all day, and I
know the end--I know the end."

"We are _not_ rebels," said Crawford, who had caught the last words,
whether intended or not even for the granddaughter's ear. "I hope you
will not fear us. I am John Crawford, private in Duryea's Zouaves, of
McClellan's army; and this is Robert Webster, private in the same
regiment."

"Union men? Men faithful to the country and the old flag?" asked the old
man, a gleam of delight passing over his wasted features. "Here, quick,
quick, Marion, raise me up."

The young girl tried to obey, but her scant strength was insufficient
even to raise the thin form of the old man. Robert Webster stepped
forward to assist her, and as the old man was raised knelt down behind
an