"Then one of them was buried yesterday. I was sure of it as soon as I looked into her face. They were very much alike. Poor fellow! I found him near the rebel colonel up stairs, and the long exposure hastened his death."
Again the surgeon bowed and hurried away.
The kind-hearted old lady stood for a moment stupefied with pity and perplexity.
"It was too bad he did not tell her," she thought as she looked after him. Her mind wandered off to the widow on the banks of the Hudson of whom Anna had spoken. She, too, was a widow, and had a son in the Confederate army. It was hard for her that he was there, but how heart-rending if he should die far away and be buried in an unknown grave! Could she break the sad intelligence to the bereaved girl? The colonel needed her. Should she advise her to do what her sympathizing heart prompted? She pondered it over for a few minutes, and then her decision was taken. She hastened up the stairway and rapped gently at the door. It was opened immediately by Anna.
"I would like to see you for a short time," she said, as the happy face beamed upon her.
"I will come soon," and turning to the bed she remarked: "You must sleep now after such an expenditure of nerve power;" and arranging the pillows that the head might more readily rest she placed her hand on the smooth white forehead as she pressed her lips to his.
"I can sleep sweetly now, good angel, since the old scorn has been taken out of my memory!" and he settled quietly down.
"Scorn! One like poor me bestowing such a commodity on one like you?" and laughing she turned to leave.
"It may be that attribute is not in your nature, but—"
"Yes—the uniform," suggested Anna. "Well; you are never to play the 'wolf' again, you know?"