"Grandfather! oh, grandfather!"

"Hark! did I not hear cannon again? Are you _sure_ the Union troops have
won the victory?" came from the closing lips. "You are a soldier and a
gentleman. You said your name was Craw--Crawford. A good old name. Never
mind me--take care of Marion. Marion--Ma--." He was silent, and silent
forever, except as the dumb lips may be hereafter opened!

Marion Hobart saw the lower jaw fall and the open eyes put on that
ghastly appearance which is the seal of the triumph of death: and she
knew, without a word from either of her companions, that he was dead.
The soldiers saw that she comprehended all that had occurred, and
expected that she would shriek again and throw herself wildly on the
body. She did not--she merely clasped her hands and looked on the body
with such a pitiful gaze of fixed sorrow that Crawford could not bear it
and turned away his eyes, while Webster found sudden and unexplained
necessity for blowing his long nose.

Suddenly, and before a word had been spoken by either of the soldiers, a
new thought came to the young girl and a terrible look of fear and
sorrow swept over her face.

"It is night and we cannot bury him!" she said, her voice broken and
agonized. "How can I leave him unburied? Gentlemen--gentlemen--how can I
leave my poor grandfather unburied?"

"He shall not remain unburied!" said Crawford, instantly and earnestly.

"He should not, Miss, if I had to make a ground-hog of myself and dig
his grave with my own hands!" put in Webster, who had scarcely spoken
before during all the sad scene.

"Oh thank you!--thank you both!" she began--then suddenly pausing, she
said: "But how--I do not understand--it is night, and we have nothing--"

"In half an hour we will be at camp, God willing," answered Crawford,
"and Colonel Warren will send a guard of soldiers to watch the body
until morning and then to bury it with all honor. Do you understand,
Miss Hobart?"

"I do," answered the young girl, her sad calmness returning at once.
"You are both very good and kind, and may God bless you. You want to go?
We must go, I suppose; and we can do poor grandfather no good now by
staying. Good-bye, grandfather--poor grandfather! I shall never see you
again, and you do not see _me_, even now! Good-bye! oh, grandfather,
grandfather! I am so lonesome I so lonesome!"

For one moment she threw herself forward on the pallet and embraced the
body of the old man, in uncontrollable so