He turned his head, waved the violets high above his shining helmet, and looked lingeringly back at the face so deathly pale at the open window.
"He sees thee, my darling; he is waving his hand to thee," cried her aunt with choking tears.
"Farewell, farewell, farewell—'To meet again,'" cried Violet with failing voice. "Dear father—'To meet again'—to—;" but the black moving mass had passed out of sight, the helmets had ceased to glitter, and Violet's head sank on Aunt Lizzie's shoulder with a sob.
CHAPTER XII. THE SILVER WATCH.
The regiment had at length passed by, and the sound of the drums and trumpets had become almost inaudible, when Aunt Lizzie rose to lay her sobbing burden on the bed.
"So, my little loved one, we must rest now," she said softly; "and Aunt Lizzie will lie down beside Violet while she tries to sleep."
But at this moment a bell over her head rang with a somewhat sharp clang.
"What is that?" she said, pausing astonished with the child in her arms.