"We know very few particulars," was the answer; "but those we know are only too well authenticated. We shall hear more later. The Indians attacked a small settlement, and a party went from the fort to the rescue. Colonel Tredennis commanded it. The Indians were apparently beaten off, but returned. A little child had been left in the house, through some misunderstanding, and Tredennis heard it crying as the Indians made their second attack, and went after it. He was shot as he brought it out in his arms."
Little Miss Jessup burst into tears and dropped her note-book.
"Oh!" she cried. "He was a good, brave man! He was a good man!"
The band struck up a waltz. The promenading stopped; a score or two of couples took their place upon the floor, and began to whirl swiftly past the spot where Bertha stood; the music seemed to grow faster and faster, and louder, and still more loud.
Bertha stood still.
She had not moved when the professor came to her. He himself wore a sad, grief-stricken face; he had heard the news too; it had not taken it long to travel around the room.
"Take me home," she said to him. "Philip is dead! Philip has been killed!"
He took her away as quickly as he could through the whirling crowd of dancers, past the people who crowded, and laughed, and listened to the music of the band.
"Keep close to me!" she said. "Do not let them see my face!"