shortly dealt with as
an obstacle to this consummation. Access to John was prohibited.
"Perfect stillness, you know, my dear," whispered Miss Cooper, opening
his chamber-door on a crack, in a pair of very creaking shoes. So for
the first evening that her old friend was at home Lizzie caught but a
glimpse of his pale, senseless face, as she hovered outside the long
train of his attendants. If we may suppose any of these kind people to
have had eyes for aught but the sufferer, we may be sure that they saw
another visage equally sad and white. The sufferer? It was hardly Jack,
after all.

When Lizzie was turned from Jack's door, she took a covering from a heap
of draperies that had been hurriedly tossed down in the hall: it was an
old army-blanket. She wrapped it round her, and went out on the
verandah. It was nine o'clock; but the darkness was filled with light. A
great wanton wind--the ghost of the raw blast which travels by day--had
arisen, bearing long, soft gusts of inland spring. Scattered clouds were
hurrying across the white sky. The bright moon, careering in their
midst, seemed to have wandered forth in frantic quest of the hidden
stars.

Lizzie nestled her head in the blanket, and sat down on the steps. A
strange earthy smell lingered in that faded old rug, and with it a faint
perfume of tobacco. Instantly the young girl's senses were transported
as they had never been before to those far-off Southern battle-fields.
She saw men lying in swamps, puffing their kindly pipes, drawing their
blankets closer, canopied with the same luminous dusk that shone down
upon her comfortable weakness. Her mind wandered amid these scenes till
recalled to the present by the swinging of the garden-gate. She heard a
firm, well-known tread crunching the gravel. Mr. Bruce came up the path.
As he drew near the steps, Lizzie arose. The blanket fell back from her
head, and Bruce started at recognizing her.

"Hullo! You, Elizabeth? What's the matter?"

Lizzie made no answer.

"Are you one of Mr. Ford's watchers?" he continued, coming up the steps;
"how is he?"

Still she was silent. Bruce put out his hands to take hers, and bent
forward as if to kiss her. She half shook him off, and retreated toward
the door.

"Good heavens!" cried Bruce; "what's the matter? Are you moonstruck?
Can't you speak?"

"No,--no,--not to-night," said Lizzie, in a choking voice. "Go away,--go
away!"

She stood holding the door-handle, and motioning hi