"Still I want to go. Remember, my father is all I have in this world."

"And what have you elsewhere, Irene?"

"My mother, my Saviour, and my God."

"Are you, then, so very anxious to go to Virginia?" he repeated, after a
pause.

"I am. I want to be near father."

"Well, I will see what I can do with him. If I fail, recollect that he is
not proverbial for pliability. Look here--are you nervous? Your fingers
twitch, and so do your eyelids, occasionally, and your pulse is twenty
beats too quick."

"I believe I am rather nervous to-day."

"Why so?"

"I did not sleep last night; that is one cause, I suppose."

"And the reason why you did not sleep? Be honest with me."

"My thoughts, sir, were very painful. Do you wonder at it in the present
state of the country?"

"Irene, answer me one question, dear child: what does the future contain
for you? What hope have you?--what do you live for?"

"I have much to be grateful for--much that makes me happy, and I hope to do
some good in the world while I live. I want to be useful--to feel that I
have gladdened some hearts, strengthened some desponding spirits, carried
balm to some hearth-stones, shed some happiness on the paths of those who
walk near me through life."

"Have you, then, fully resolved to remain single?"

"Why do you ask me that, Dr. Arnold?"

"Because you are dear to me, Queen; and I should like to see you happily
married before I am laid in my grave."

"You will never see it. Be sure I shall live and die Irene Huntingdon."

"What has induced you to doom yourself to a----"

"Ask me no more, Doctor. If I am content with my lot, who else has the
right to question?"

He looked into that fair chiselled face, and wondered whether she could be
truly "content"; and the purity and peace in her deep, calm eyes baffled
him sorely. She rose, and laid her hand on his shoulder.

"Dr. Arnold, promise me that if there is a battle, and father should be
hurt, you will telegraph me at once. Do not hesitate--let me know the truth
immediately. Will you?"

"I promise."

"And now, sir, what can I make or have made for you which will conduce to
your comfort?"

"Have you any old linen left about the house that could be useful among the
wounded?"

"I have sent off a good deal, but have some left. In what form do you want
it? As lint, or bandages?"

"Neither; pack it just as it is, and send it on by express. I can't carry
the world on my shoulders."

"Anythin