fe-destroying,--but not till she had reached her destined point and
end; not till her feet failed close to that bruised and silent form; not
till she had sunk beside it, gathered it in her fair young arms, and
pillowed its beautiful head--from which streamed golden hair, dabbled
and blood-bestained--upon her faithful heart.

There it stirred; the eyes unclosed to meet hers, a gleam of divine love
shining through their fading fire; the battered, stiffened arm lifted,
as to fold her in the old familiar caress. "Darling--die--to
make--free"--came in gasps from the sweet, yet whitening lips. Then she
lay still. Where his breath blew across her hair it waved, and her bosom
moved above the slow and labored beating of his heart; but, save for
this, she was as quiet as the peaceful dead within their graves,--and,
like them, done with the noise and strife of time forever.

For him,--the shadows deepened where he lay,--the stars came out one by
one, looking down with clear and solemn eyes upon this wreck of fair and
beautiful things, wrought by earthly hate and the awful passions of
men,--then veiled their light in heavy and sombre clouds. The rain fell
upon the noble face and floating, sunny hair,--washing them free of
soil, and dark and fearful stains; moistening the fevered, burning lips,
and cooling the bruised and aching frame. How passed the long night with
that half-insensible soul? God knoweth. The secrets of that are hidden
in the eternity to which it now belongs. Questionless, ministering
spirits drew near, freighted with balm and inspiration; for when the
shadows fled, and the next morning's sun shone upon these silent forms,
it revealed faces radiant as with some celestial fire, and beatified as
reflecting the smile of God.

The inmates of the house before which lay this solemn mystery, rising to
face a new-made day, looking out from their windows to mark what traces
were left of last night's devastations, beheld this awful yet sublime
sight.

"A prejudice which, I trust, will never end," had Mr. Surrey said, in
bidding adieu to his son but a few short hours before. This prejudice,
living and active, had now thus brought death and desolation to his own
doors. "How unsearchable are the judgments of God, and his ways past
finding out!"

CHAPTER XX

"_Drink,--for thy necessity is yet greater than mine._"

Sir Philip Sidney

The hospital boat, going out of Beaufort, was a sad, yet great sight. It
was