the scene of the conflict (a miserable affair)
to rescue a poor lad who lay wounded on the field--mortally wounded,
as the event proved. A rifle-bullet had struck him in the body. His
brethren of the field-hospital had carried him back to their quarters
at the risk of their lives. He was a great favorite with all of them;
patient and gentle and brave; only wanting a little more judgment to be
the most valuable recruit who had joined the brotherhood.

In telling me this, the surgeon kindly and delicately added a word of
warning as well.

The fever caused by the wound had brought with it delirium, as usual.
My poor husband's mind, in so far as his wandering words might interpret
it, was filled by the one image of his wife. The medical attendant
had heard enough in the course of his ministrations at the bedside,
to satisfy him that any sudden recognition of me by Eustace (if he
recovered) might be attended by the most lamentable results. As things
were at that sad time, I might take my turn at nursing him, without the
slightest chance of his discovering me, perhaps for weeks and weeks to
come. But on the day when he was declared out of danger--if that happy
day ever arrived--I must resign my place at his bedside, and must wait
to show myself until the surgeon gave me leave.

My mother-in-law and I relieved each other regularly, day and night, in
the sick-room.

In the hours of his delirium--hours that recurred with a pitiless
regularity--my name was always on my poor darling's fevered lips.
The ruling idea in him was the fine dreadful idea which I had vainly
combated at our last interview. In the face of the verdict pronounced
at the Trial, it was impossible even for his wife to be really and truly
persuaded that he was an innocent man. All the wild pictures which his
distempered imagination drew were equally inspired by that one obstinate
conviction. He fancied himself to be still living with me under those
dreaded conditions. Do what he might, I was always recalling to him the
terrible ordeal through which he had passed. He acted his part, and he
acted mine. He gave me a cup of tea; and I said to him, "We quarreled
yesterday, Eustace. Is it poisoned?" He kissed me, in token of our
reconciliation; and I laughed, and said, "It's morning now, my dear.
Shall I die by nine o'clock to-night?" I was ill in bed, and he gave me
my medicine. I looked at him with a doubting eye. I said to him, "You
are in love with another woma