She could not finish the rest, but buried her head on Uncle Robert's shoulder to have a good little cry out of pure joy and thankfulness.
"Shall I read it aloud?"
She placed the letter in his hand.
"My dear little Friend,—I dare say you will be surprised at receiving a letter from a busy old soldier like me, but I met with an incident a few days ago with which you are so intimately connected that I cannot resist the good excuse. Of course all the glorious news and rejoicing has reached you, but we here on the spot are hearing new things daily, some joyful, but many sad. We went up the James River one morning to a small settlement originally negro quarters, where we heard a number of wounded prisoners had been taken. We found thirty poor fellows in all, who had suffered terribly from neglect, for though the negroes were well-meaning and very warm-hearted, they were miserably poor and ignorant. Half a dozen of the soldiers had been very ill from fevers, and upon questioning them I found one was—whom do you think?—your uncle's substitute, a William Morrison. That took me back to last winter at once, and to my little friend, so do not wonder if we had a good long talk about you and the beautiful Cedarwood of which I have heard so much. I believe it did the poor fellow a world of good. He was wounded and taken prisoner, and brought up here by the negroes, as far as I can learn. In those few days of our final successes the small events were overlooked in the glory of the grander ones. His wound was not very severe, but fever set in, and for three weeks he was delirious. About ten days ago he wrote home, but he was not sure that his messenger was reliable. He was much better, and we despatched those who could travel to head-quarters at once. I fancy that he will be mustered out as soon as possible. If his friends should not have heard, will you please inform them? He holds you all in such warm and grateful remembrance that it was delightful to talk to him. I rejoice with you that he is safe, and I do not question but that he has done a soldier's whole duty, I thought I discerned in him the spirit of another little soldier, who I dare say finds some battles to fight. Give my regards to your family, and do not feel surprised when I tell you that you may expect me at Cedarwood some day before long.
"Truly yours,
"W. Mackenzie, U. S. A."
"It hardly seems possible!" Kathie said, with a sob. "But they have not heard, and they will be so glad!"
Uncle Robert began to pace the room, much moved. Of late death had appeared such a certainty, and though he knew the life had been freely given for his, his first emotions were those of devout gratitude to God that this sacrifice had not been required. Then he paused before Kathie. "My little darling," he said, "it is your good news. And though the Morrisons may hear it in a day or two from other sources, we owe it to them immediately. Will you go?"
Kathie wanted to very much, but O, how was she ever to get through with it! Her voice seemed to be all a quiver of tears.
"Would you like me to accompany you?
"If you will."