Col. Masters, Charleston, S. C.:
Columbia razed. The Cause is lost. Father killed in battle.
Helen.
“Oh, God, it is not true—it cannot be true!” The massive form of the great man shook as a tower that is falling, and his face seemed to be fast taking on the lines of the ghastly few who survived the black hole of Calcutta.
“Forgive me, Colonel, but we read the message at the office!”
In his soul, the rosy-lipped dawn was kissing away the dewy tears of a long, weary night, and Ioskeha had claimed Attacoa.
But the boy was looking at him in amazement. Great wells of joy were evidently springing up in his heart. A new man was being formed before the lad’s eyes. Slowly the stature increased; the stoop of the shoulders that had labored despairingly disappeared. Only a deadly pallor told of the past.
“Go!” he cried to the lad. “Quick, go!”
Then he leaned heavily against the twisted iron rail of the Battery promenade, that some cannon ball had struck spitefully.
“It is a lie,” he said, slowly, but his face was burnished with joy. “It’s too good to be true!”