tal tents she stood watching the white sails in the distance. But
it was not that resolution had failed her; for she would have made the
same decision over again if she had been called upon at the moment.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE NIGHT ATTACK.

As Elizabeth stood at the door of the hospital tent looking after the
Smithhurst, General Pepperell came along, alone, in a brown study, his
brows knit and his face troubled. For though the French ship-of-war,
"Vigilant" had been captured, Louisburg had not, and every day was
adding to the list of soldiers in the hospitals. But when he saw her, he
stopped, and his expression, at first of surprise, changed to anger.

"What does this mean?" he said abruptly. "The ship has sailed. I sent
you word in time."

"Yes," she answered.

"Then what does it mean?" he reiterated, "Why are you here?"

"It means," she returned, resenting the authority of his tone, "that
when New England men are fighting and suffering and dying for their
country, New England women have not learned how to leave them in their
need, and sail away to happy homes. That's what it means, General
Pepperell." As she spoke she saw Archdale behind the General; he had
come up hastily as Pepperell stood there.

"Thought you were in a desperate hurry to be off," said Pepperell dryly.

Elizabeth blushed. She was convicted of changeableness, and she felt
that she had been impatient. "Forgive me," she said. "So I was. But I
did not realize then what I ought to do."

"Um! Where's your father?"

"Just gone out in the dispatch boat to the fleet."

"Does he know of this--this enterprise? Of course, though," he corrected
himself, "since he has not sailed."

"Yes, of course," she said. "He stays with me. But," she added, "I
suppose he expected me to ask you about it first."

"And you knew I wouldn't consent--hey?"

The girl smiled without speaking. "Mr. Royal is over-indulgent," he went
on decidedly.

"Perhaps," answered Elizabeth, "He thinks that a little over-indulgence
in being useful will not be bad for me. You assured both Nancy and me
that we were doing good service, real service, and that you should be
sorry to lose us."

"So you have done, and I shall be sorry to lose you, both personally and
for the cause. Nevertheless, I shall send you home at once. Your father
would never have consented to your staying if he had realized the
danger. I never know where the shells will burst. I'll stop work upon
that scho