"Wait and let me tell you how I escaped death," said Lawrence.
When he had finished, her eyes, though bedewed with tears, were shining with joy and pride.
"Lawrence," she cried, "I am prouder of you than ever. You were shown mercy, because you were merciful; and I would have my knight-errant as merciful as he is brave."
"How can he be otherwise, when she whose colors he wears is so kind and merciful?" gallantly replied Lawrence, and, taking her little hand in his, he raised it and pressed his lips against her trembling fingers.
"A true knight can always kiss the hand of the lady he serves," said Lawrence. He then bade her good-bye, with the promise of coming again before he went to the front.
Is it strange that, as he went on his way, his thoughts were all of the beautiful girl he had just left? But, all unbidden, there arose before him a mental vision of the face of another girl—a girl whose queenly head was crowned with a wealth of golden hair, but whose eyes flashed with scorn at the sight of him—whose very soul loathed the uniform he wore; and he sighed, he hardly knew why.
Suddenly the thoughts of all girls were driven from his mind, for in the crowd before him he saw a well-known face—the face of Carl Meyer. Carl was a German boy, about a year older than Lawrence. It was he who had induced Lawrence to join the Home Guards, and thus paved the way to his acquaintance with Frank Blair. They had not met since the battle of Wilson Creek, when Carl went back with a broken arm.
In a moment the two clasped hands, their eyes telling what their lips refused to utter. At length Lawrence found voice. "My! how you have grown!" he exclaimed; "and this,"—he touched the strap of a second lieutenant on his shoulder—"Oh, Carl, I am so glad."
"And you," replied Carl, the joy gleaming in his honest eyes; "I see it's Captain now."
"Come with me, Carl. I must hear all that has happened to you since the last time we met."