ntouched, and he rather
abruptly stepped upon, the piazza and indulged in a thoughtful
promenade.

"Write just as if you were doing it for yourself."

The young man's words rang constantly in his ears, and before the major
had thought many moments, he determined to do exactly what he was asked
to do.

This silly performance of the lieutenant's would, of course, put an end
to the acquaintanceship of the major and Mrs. Wittleday, unless that
lady were most unusually gracious. Why should he not say to her, over
the subaltern's name, all that he had for years been hoping for an
opportunity to say? No matter that she would not imagine who was the
real author of the letter--it would still be an unspeakable comfort to
write the words and know that her eyes would read them--that her heart
would perhaps--probably, in fact--pity the writer.

The major seated himself, wrote, erased, interlined, rewrote, and
finally handed to the lieutenant a sheet of letter-paper, of which
nearly a page was covered with the major's very characteristic
chirography.

"By gracious, major!" exclaimed the lieutenant, his face having
lightened perceptibly during the perusal of the letter, "that's
magnificent! I declare, it puts hope into me; and yet, confound it, it's
plaguy like marching under some one else's colors."

"Never mind, my boy, copy it, sign it, and send it over, and don't hope
too much."

The romantic young brave copied the letter carefully, line for line; he
spoilt several envelopes in addressing one to suit him, and then
dispatched the missive by the major's servant, laying the rough draft
away for future (and probably sorrowful) perusal.

The morning hours lagged dreadfully. Both warriors smoked innumerable
cigars, but only to find fault with the flavor thereof.

The lieutenant tried to keep his heart up by relating two or three
stories, at the points of each of which the major forced a boisterous
laugh, but the mirth upon both sides was visibly hollow. Dinner was set
at noon, the usual military dinner-hour, but little was consumed, except
a bottle of claret, which the major, who seldom drank, seemed to
consider it advisable to produce.

The after-dinner cigar lasted only until one o'clock; newspapers by the
noon-day mail occupied their time for but a scant hour more, and an
attempted game of cribbage speedily dropped by unspoken but mutual
consent.

Suddenly the garden gate creaked. The lieutenant sprang to his feet,
lo