Then she started as from a trance. There was a tremor in her voice, but she spoke quietly, as one who had struggled with her own heart and got the victory.
"Grace, God help them! But our duty lies here. There is no time now for grief. There is no call on us to take part in the work and peril of delivering our sister Nurses. Others will do it better than we. Our duty is plain. And is just before us. Mine is here. Grace, dear, yours is there!"
She pointed first to the couch at which she had been kneeling, then to one across the aisle, and quietly turning from her companion, knelt down again by the wounded Brownie, and took up the dropped thread of her labor of love. When she lifted her eyes Grace was at her post. Noble conquerors! These are the victories of those who be better than they who take a city.
FOOTNOTES:
CHAPTER XI.
ON THE TRAIL.
Meanwhile, the light of fox-fire and fire-fly lanterns was glancing everywhere through camp and field, showing where eager searchers were scattered looking for the lost Nurses. Rodney was well nigh frantic with grief, and ran here and there among the tents calling the name of his daughter. Only the echo of his voice came back to him out of the night. Pipe was as one paralyzed. He leaned against the wall of the tent with folded arms, and eyes fixed upon the spot where his child had lain. His mute sorrow was pitiful to see.