"Russell, speak to me once more."
There was no sound, no motion. She knew that the soldier's spirit had soared to the shores of Everlasting Peace, and that not until she joined him there would the loved tones again make music in her heart. She tightened her arms around the still form, and nestled her cheek closer to his, now growing cold. No burst of grief escaped her, to tell of agony and despair.
*****
Electra's speedy convalescence repaid the care bestowed upon her, and one afternoon, ten days after quiet had again settled around the Confederate capital, she insisted on being allowed to sit up later than usual, protesting that she would no longer be regarded as an invalid.
"Irene, stand in the light where I can see you fully. How worn and weary you look! I suspect I am regaining my health at the expense of yours."
"No; I am as well in body as I could desire. But no doubt my anxiety has left its traces on my countenance."
She leaned over Electra's chair, and stroked back the artist's shining hair.
"I wish you would let me see the papers. My eyes are strong enough now, and I want to know exactly what has taken place everywhere during my sickness. It seems to me impossible that General Lee's army can face McClellan's much longer without bringing on a battle, and I am so anxious about Russell. If he should be hurt, of course, I must go to him. It is very strange that he has not written. Are you sure no letters came for me?"
"There are no letters, I am sure; but I have a message for you. I have seen him once since you were taken sick."
"Ah! what is it? He heard that I was ill, and came to see me, I suppose. When was he here?"