Throughout the narrative the piano had been going, keeping, as it seemed, a weird accompaniment to a tragic story. This also had its effect; for, so perfectly did the rhythm and sweep of the music accord with the heart-rending conclusion, that Helen, if her mind had been less preoccupied with sympathy, would probably have traced the effect of it all to a long series of rehearsals: in fact, such a suggestion did occur to her, but the thought perished instantly in the presence of the unaffected simplicity and the childlike earnestness which animated the words of the old negro.
The long silence which ensued—for the piano ceased, and Hallie nestled at Helen's side once more—was broken by General Garwood.
"We were never able to identify the Union soldier. He had in his possession a part of a letter, and a photograph of himself. These were in an inner pocket. I judge that he knew he was to be sent on a dangerous mission, and had left his papers and whatever valuables he may have possessed behind him. The little skirmish in which he fell was a surprise to both sides. A scouting party of perhaps a dozen Federal cavalrymen rode suddenly upon as many Confederate cavalrymen who had been detailed for special picket duty. There was a short, sharp fight, and then both sides scampered away. The next day the Federal army occupied the ground."
"It is a pity," said Helen, "that his identity should be so utterly lost."
"Hallie, my dear," said Mrs. Garwood, "would it trouble you too much to get the photograph of the Union soldier? If it is any trouble, my child—"
Hallie went swiftly out of the room, and returned almost immediately with the photograph, and handed it to Helen, who examined it as well as she could by the dim firelight.
"The face is an interesting one, as well as I can make out," said Helen, "and it has a strangely familiar look. He was very young."
She handed the picture to her aunt. Her face was very pale.
"I can't see by this light," said Miss Tewksbury. But Uncle Prince had already brought a lamp which he had been lighting. "Why, my dear," said Miss Tewksbury, in a tone of voice that suggested both awe and consternation—"why, my dear, this is your brother Wendell!"
"Oh, Aunt Harriet! I thought so—I was afraid so—but are you sure?"