bond between her and Lucia
was growing strong daily. Usually they were together, and once when Mrs.
Markham spoke slightingly of the "Northern woman," as she called Lucia,
Helen replied with a sharpness very remarkable for her--a sharpness that
contributed to the growing coldness between them, which had begun with
the power Mrs. Markham exercised over Helen's brother.

Prescott noticed these things more or less and sometimes they pained
him; but clearly they were outside his province, and in order to give
them no room in his mind he applied himself more diligently than ever to
his duties, his wound now permitting him to do almost a man's work.

They marched slowly and it gave promise of being a long journey. The
days grew very hot; the sun burned the grass, and over them hung clouds
of steamy vapour. For the sake of the badly wounded who had fever they
traveled often by night and rested by day in the shade. But that cloud
of war never left them.

The days passed and distant battles still hung on their skirts. The
mutter of the guns was seldom absent, and they yet saw, now and then, on
the horizon, flashes like heat-lightning. One morning there was a rapid
beat of hoofs, a glitter of sabers issuing from a wood, and in a moment
the little convoy was surrounded by a troop of cavalry in blue.

"Only wounded men and women," said their leader, a young colonel with a
fine, open face. "Bah, we have no time to waste with them!"

He bowed contritely, touching his hat to the ladies and saying that he
did not mean to be ungallant. Then in a moment he and his men were gone
at gallop in a cloud of dust, disappearing in a whirlwind across the
plain, leaving the little convoy to proceed at its leisure.

Prescott gazed after them, shading his eyes with his hands. "There must
be some great movement at hand," he said, "or they would have asked us
questions, at least."

The day grew close and sultry. Columns of steamy vapour moved back and
forth and enclosed them, and the sun set in a red mist. At night it
rained, but early the next morning the mutter of the cannon grew to a
rumble and then a storm. The hot day came and all the east was filled
with flashes of fire. The crash of the cannon was incessant, and in
fancy every one in that little convoy heard the tramping of brigades and
the clatter of hoofs as the horsemen rushed on the guns.

"They have met again!" said Lucia.

"Yes," replied Prescott. "It's Grant and Lee. How many g