en and sacred words.

And the very soul of Manners shouted aloud, for the girl was speaking to
him as she had never spoken before.

XXXIII

When the fighting was over for that day, Aladdin wrote as follows to
Margaret:

MARGARET DEAR: Peter was shot down to-day, while doing more than his
duty by his enemies and by his country and by himself, which was always
his way. He will not live very long, and you must come to him if it
is in any way possible. His love for you makes other loves seem very
little, and I think it would be better that you should walk the streets
than that you should refuse to come to him now. He had a letter from
you, which God, knowing about, blinded him so that he could not read it,
and he believes that you love him and are faithful to him. It is very
merciful of God to let him believe that. He must not be undeceived now,
and you must come and be lovely to him and pretend and pretend, and make
his dying beautiful. I have the right to ask this of you, for, next to
Peter, I was the one that loved you most. And when I made you think I
didn't I lied. I lied because I felt that I was not worthy, and I loved
you enough to want you to belong to the best man God ever made, and I
loved him too. And that was why it was. I tell you because I think you
must have wondered about it sometimes. But it was very hard to do, and
because I did it, and because Peter is what he is, you must come to him
now. If God will continue to be merciful, you will get here in time. I
hope I may be on hand to see you, but I do not know. Hamilton is gone,
and Peter is going, and there will be a terrible battle to-morrow, and
thousands of poor lads will lie on this field forever. And here, one way
or another, the war will be decided. I have not the heart to write to
you any more, my darling. You will come to Peter, I know, and all will
be as well as it can be. I pray to God that I too shall live to see you
again, and I ask him to bless you and keep you for ever and ever. Always
I see your dear face before me in the battle, and sometimes at night
God lets me dream of you. I am without dogma, sweetest of all possible
sweethearts, but this creed I say over and over, and this creed I
believe: I believe in one God, Maker of heaven and Margaret.

Angels guard you, darling.

ALADDIN.
GETTYSBURG, July 2, 1863.

XXXIV

On the morning of the third day of July, young Hannibal