"I'll take some hours to think this matter over," said Rachel, "and give
you your answer this afternoon. That'll be time enough, will it not?"

"Heaps an' plenty, ma'am," he answered, as he rose to go. "She'll go,"
he added to himself. "I'm not fooled a mite on thet 'ere stock. I'll
jest go to headquarters an' git things ready for her."

He was right. The prospect of doing an important service on a grand
occasion was stimulus enough for Rachel's daring spirit, to make her
undertake anything, and when Fortner returned in the afternoon he found
her eager to set out upon the enterprise.

But as the evening came on with its depressing shadows and silence, she
felt the natural reaction that follows taking an irrevocable step. The
loneliness of her unlighted room was peopled with ghostly memories of
the horrors inflicted upon spies, and of tales she had heard of the
merciless cruelty of the Rebels among whom she was going. She had to
hold her breath to keep from shrieking aloud at the terrors conjured up
before her vision. Then the spasm passed, and braver thoughts reasserted
themselves. Fortner's inadvertent words of praise of Harry Glen were
recalled, and began glowing like pots of incense to sweeten and purify
the choking vapors in her imagination.

Could it be that Harry had really retrieved himself? He had certainly
gained the not-easily-won admiration of this brave man, and it had all
been to render himself worthy of her! There was rapture in the thought.
Then her own heroic aspirations welled up again, bringing intoxication
at the prospect of ending the distasteful routine of nursing, by taking
an active part in what would be a grand event of history. Fears and
misgivings vanished like the mists of the morning. She thought only of
how to accomplish her mission.

She lighted a candle and wrote four letters--one to her mother, one to
Dr. Denslow, one to Harry Glen in care of his mother, and one to the
Hospital Steward, asking him to mail the letters in case he did not
receive any contrary request from her before the 10th of January.

She was too excited to sleep in the early part of the night, and busied
her waking hours in packing her clothing and books, and maturing her
plans.

She had much concern about her wardrobe. Never in all the days of her
village belleship had she been so anxious to be well-dressed as now,
when about to embark upon the greatest act of her life. She planned and
schemed as women will in