outh were as steady as if she
did not love him. She never raised her eyes until the last. As I saw
their sad beauty, a pang seized me, and I turned away. He came after,
hurried me into the carriage, and off we whirled.

'Are you going to write to her?' I asked.

'She says no,' Fontevrault answered, and looked vigorously out of the
window.

* * * * *

One evening, two years after my son left me, we were sitting round the
library fire. Christoper, now a captain in one of the famous
Massachusetts regiments, sat near me, a little older and a little graver
than when I saw him last. We were talking with flushed cheeks and
beating hearts of the subject nearest our hearts just then--war.

A familiar foot pressed the stair. All the color left Leonora's lips;
she knew who was coming. In another moment I was in my darling's arms.
He shook hands with Leonora, but neither of them spoke a word; then
turned to Cristopher, who welcomed him with the hearty cordiality men
use.

'You have come home to fight, I know, Fontevrault.'

'So I have,' answered my son. 'Every true-hearted American should be
striking his blow. I couldn't travel fast enough. Mother, are you a
Spartan?'

He looked at Leonora. What did she think of this magnificent-mustached
Saxon? Not much like the fair-cheeked student we remembered.

'Let us be army nurses,' said Leonora, when they had gone to Washington.
Indeed we could not stay where we were, nor flit off to Newport to
banish care. I grew sleepless, and a sudden sound would send the blood
to my heart. Leonora maintained an undaunted front, but she grew thin in
spite of her cheerfulness. At last I said:

'We will follow the army; I shall die to live in this way.'

So, just before the battle of Antietam, we were in Washington.

Just after--ah me!--a singular scene occurred. We four had met again,
not as in the happy nights long gone. Denis, the veteran of seven
battles, still stood unscathed; but my boy could fight no more.
Manfully he bore his affliction; I only wept.

This morning of which I write, he was so bright, that we admitted Denis
at once, who came to bid us farewell before leaving to join his
regiment.

'Stop a minute,' said Fred. 'Leonora.' She came toward him with a face
of gentle inquiry.

'To-day is my birthday,' prefaced the soldier. 'I am twenty-six, and a
free man to say I love you.' Denis minced and motioned to withdraw his
hand. (Not so fast, old