"I fear you will find fearful confusion and difficulty in reaching the field," she said.
"I have no fears," he replied. "I shall go by rail as far as possible, then hire or purchase a horse. The first list of casualties is always made up hastily, and I have strong hopes of finding Strahan in one of the many extemporized hospitals, or, at least, of getting some tidings of him."
"One thing is certain," she added, kindly,—"you have proved that if you do find him, he will have a devoted nurse."
"I shall do my best for him," he replied, quietly. "If he has been taken from the field and I can learn his whereabouts, I shall follow him."
The color caused by his first slight embarrassment had faded away, and Marian exclaimed, "Mr. Merwyn, you are either ill or have been ill."
"Oh, no," he said, carelessly; "I have only shared in the general excitement and anxiety. I am satisfied that we have but barely escaped a serious outbreak in this city."
"I think you are right," she answered, gravely, and her thought was: "He is indeed to be pitied if a few weeks of fearful expectation have made him so pale and haggard. It has probably cost him a tremendous effort to remain in the city where he has so much at stake."
After a moment's silence Merwyn resumed: "I shall soon take my train. Would you not like to write a few lines to Strahan? As I told you, in effect, once before, they may prove the best possible tonic in case I find him."
Marian, eager to comply with the suggestion, excused herself. In her absence her father entered. He also greeted the young man kindly, and, learning of his project, volunteered some useful instructions, adding, "I can give you a few lines that may be of service."
At last Merwyn was about to depart, and Marian, for the first time, gave him her hand and wished him "God-speed." He flushed deeply, and there was a flash of pleasure in his dark eyes as he said, in a low tone, that he would try to deserve her kindness.