That end was not very far off. General Grant was slowly but surely fighting his way to Richmond, winding around it coil after coil of that “anaconda grasp ever tightening,” that was destined to destroy the doomed Confederate capital.
In due time Colonel Rosenthal was exchanged and released; but so broken in health from the pains and privations of his captivity, that when he reported himself for duty at his brigade headquarters, he was immediately sent home on sick leave.
And there it required many weeks of Erminie’s careful and skillful nursing before his strength could be restored.
During all this time Justin had been unremitting in his efforts to hear tidings of Britomarte, and to take measures for her release. But none of these efforts were successful.
It will be remembered that when Britomarte was taken from the prisoners’ line of march to be cast into Castle Thunder, Justin was some two squares ahead, and knew nothing of her withdrawal.
When the party of prisoners reached Belle Isle, he looked around for Britomarte, and not seeing her, cautiously inquired among the men who, some of them, knew her by sight, but only as “Captain Wing,” a commissioned officer of his regiment.
The men could give no information, until at length the two or three who had marched nearest to her said that “Captain Wing” had been taken from the line, when they were halted in one of the streets of the city; but they could not tell where “he” had been carried.
He inquired of the guard, who remained dumb.
Then he questioned the officer of the guard, who gave him no satisfaction, but, on the contrary, turned cross-questioner himself, in order to find out who Britomarte was.
Justin saw his drift and became silent.