to proceed.

"If I am it is none of your business, young man. I can tell you one
thing, I am not afraid of a suit of soldier clothing, no matter who
wears it."

"Oh, Aunt Clarissa, don't be rude," came in a soft voice from behind the
elderly lady, and Deck saw a dainty hand placed on one of the gaunt
shoulders.

"You be still, Rosebel," was the crusty interruption. "I can manage this
matter very well alone. Do you think I am going to open my house to any
of the military--least of all to those Yankees? I am sure if I won't
have our own soldiers here I won't have those who are fighting us!"

"But he says the captain is badly wounded, and may die," pleaded
Rosebel, and now she pressed closer to the window, to get a better look
at the young Union officer below.

Her soft voice interested Deck, and he came as close as possible under
the window to see her fully. As he gazed at her he gave a start. Where
had he seen that face before? Somewhere, he was positive of it--but
where?

"Rosebel, get back," ordered the elderly lady, and tried to crowd the
maiden from the window, but she would not budge.

"Aunt Clarissa, remember, Paul is in the army," she said. "I know I did
not want him to join, but if he was wounded and among strangers--" She
did not finish, excepting with a long sigh.

Deck could hear her words plainly, and at the mentioning of the name,
Paul, his heart gave a bound, then sank like a lump of lead in his
bosom. He had found the missing sister of the young Confederate captain
who lay in that cold trench many miles away, with a stick for a
headstone, upon which was inscribed:--

ROSEBEL'S PAUL LIES BURIED HERE.

"Your name is Rosebel?" he said; and his voice was as soft as when he
had spoken to Kate Belthorpe in his most sentimental mood.

"Yes."

"And your brother Paul was a captain in the Confederate service?"

"Yes." And now the young lady's eyes began to fill with wonder.

"You lived in Chattanooga with your brother, and you--you had a
difference of opinion about his joining the army?"

"We did have--and I am sorry for it," answered the maiden. "But who are
you to speak thus to me? Do you know my brother?"

"Rosebel, do not be hasty in talking to this young man," interposed the
aunt.

"I did know your brother, Miss Rosebel. I do not know your other name."

"And yet you knew my brother!"

"He must be telling falseho--" began the aunt, but the girl's hand over
her mouth checked her.