n lips. Habitually Mrs. Ford was the most
undemonstrative of women. But as Lizzie looked closer into her face, she
read the signs of a grief infinitely more potent than her own. The
formal kiss gave way: the young girl leaned her head on the old woman's
shoulder and burst into sobs. Mrs. Ford acknowledged those tears with a
slow inclination of the head, full of a certain grim pathos: she put out
her arms and pressed them closer to her heart.

At last Lizzie disengaged herself and sat down.

"I am going to him," said Mrs. Ford.

Lizzie's dizziness returned. Mrs. Ford was going,--and she, she?

"I am going to nurse him, and with God's help to save him."

"How did you hear?"

"I have a telegram from the surgeon of the regiment"; and Mrs. Ford held
out a paper.

Lizzie took it and read: "Lieutenant Ford dangerously wounded in the
action of yesterday. You had better come on."

"I should like to go myself," said Lizzie: "I think Jack would like to
have me."

"Nonsense! A pretty place for a young girl! I am not going for
sentiment; I am going for use."

Lizzie leaned her head back in her chair, and closed her eyes. From the
moment they had fallen upon Mrs. Ford, she had felt a certain
quiescence. And now it was a relief to have responsibility denied her.
Like most weak persons, she was glad to step out of the current of life,
now that it had begun to quicken into action. In emergencies, such
persons are tacitly counted out; and they as tacitly consent to the
arrangement. Even to the sensitive spirit there is a certain meditative
rapture in standing on the quiet shore, (beside the ruminating cattle,)
and watching the hurrying, eddying flood, which makes up for the loss of
dignity. Lizzie's heart resumed its peaceful throbs. She sat, almost
dreamily, with her eyes shut.

"I leave in an hour," said Mrs. Ford. "I am going to get ready.--Do you
hear?"

The young girl's silence was a deeper consent than her companion
supposed.

IV.

It was a week before Lizzie heard from Mrs. Ford. The letter, when it
came, was very brief. Jack still lived. The wounds were three in number,
and very serious; he was unconscious; he had not recognized her; but
still the chances either way were thought equal. They would be much
greater for his recovery nearer home; but it was impossible to move him.
"I write from the midst of horrible scenes," said the poor lady.
Subjoined was a list of necessary medicines, comforts, and delicacies,