er then.
I must find out more of her first.

She looked disappointed, and said:

"I heard that regiment was in the last battle. Have you seen any since
that time? I am deeply interested in that soldier; he was my only
brother's most intimate friend."

I told her I should go the next day, probably, to the "Douglas," and
if I had any tidings I would let her know. And so I left her, anxious
to be alone, to think over and plan about this new development in
Ashton's history. Who was she? Could she be his lost love? Impossible!
This nurse in a Union hospital! No, never! She must be down in her
Southern home. What should I do? Go tell Ashton? No, that would not do
yet. So I worried about it, and at last I decided I would sleep on it,
and my mind would be clearer for action in the morning.

I could not divert my mind from the idea that it must be the girl
whose name I had never heard.

Next morning my mind was made up, I went over to see Ashton; found
him in poorer spirits than ever. I sat down and tried to cheer him up.
He said:

"I feel more miserable this morning than ever in my life before. I
have a furlough for thirty days, but I do not care to take it. I am as
well here as anywhere."

I said: "I have often found that the darkest hours are many times
followed by the brightest. Cheer up. I feel as if you would have some
comfort before long, and see! Why, here you have a bouquet with so
many 'heart's-eases' in it. Heaven grant it may be a token of coming
ease and happiness. Who gave these to you? It is rarely we see them at
this season."

"Sister L. gave them to me; they came from the greenhouse."

I told him I should see him again that afternoon, and taking my leave,
went over to see the nurse at the armory. She came quickly forward to
see me, and said:

"Have you any news----"

"I have heard of him; he was in the battle and very severely wounded,
but living when my friend last heard of him."

"When was that? Where is he?" she exclaimed, hurriedly. "You know
more, I can see; please tell me."

I answered her:

"I will tell you all, but I must beg of you a little confidence in
return. I saw him myself, and helped to nurse him--was very much
interested in him; he was terribly ill and is now very, very weak--his
recovery doubtful. He has told me much of his past life. Now, will you
not tell me what he is to you, for I see you are deeply moved?"

"Did he tell you anything of the girl who drove him off withou