arm--a basket in which she puts the eggs
she knows just where to find. Not behind the hay, where a poor wretch
was almost dead with terror. There was no nest there, and so she failed
to see the ghastly face, pinched with hunger and pain, the glassy eyes,
the uncombed hair, and soiled tattered garments of him who once was
known as one of fashion's most fastidious dandies.

She had secured her eggs for the morning meal, and the doctor hoped she
was about to leave, when there was a rustling of the hay, and he almost
uttered a scream of fear. But the sound died on his lips, as he heard
the voice of prayer--heard that young girl as she prayed, and the words
she uttered stopped, for an instant, the pulsations of his heart, and
partly took his senses away. First for her baby boy she prayed, asking
that God would be to him father and mother both, and keep him from
temptation. Then for her country, her distracted, bleeding country, and
the doctor, listening to her, knew it was no Rebel tongue calling so
earnestly on God to save the Union, praying so touchingly for the poor,
suffering soldiers, and coming at last even to him, the miserable
outcast, whose bloodshot eyes grew blind, and whose brain grew giddy and
wild, as he heard again Lily's voice, pleading for George, wherever he
might be. She did not say: "God send him back to me, who loves him
still." She only asked forgiveness for the father of her boy, but this
was proof to the listener that she did not hate him, and forgetful of
his pain he raised himself upon his elbow, and looking over the pile of
hay, saw her where she knelt. Lily, Adah, his wife, her fair face
covered by her hands, and her soft, brown hair cut short and curling in
her neck.

Twice he essayed to speak, but his tongue refused to move, and he sank
back exhausted, just as Adah arose from her knees and turned to leave
the barn. He could not let her go. He should die before she came again;
he was half dying now, and it would be so sweet to breathe out his life
upon her bosom, with perhaps her forgiving kiss upon his lips.

"Adah!" he tried to say; but the quivering lips made no sound, and Adah
passed out, leaving him there alone. "Adah, Lily, Anna," he gasped,
hardly knowing himself whose name he called in his despair.

She heard that sound, and started suddenly, for she thought it was her
old, familiar name which no one knew there at Sunny Mead. For a moment
she paused; but it came not again, and so she