Transcriber’s Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

HOW HE WON HER.
A
SEQUEL TO “FAIR PLAY.”

BY

MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH.

AUTHOR OF “FAIR PLAY,” “THE WIDOW’S SON,” “THE BRIDE OF LLEWELLYN,” “HAUNTED HOMESTEAD,” “RETRIBUTION,” “THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER,” “THE LOST HEIRESS,” “THE FORTUNE SEEKER,” “ALLWORTH ABBEY,” “THE FATAL MARRIAGE,” “THE MISSING BRIDE,” “THE TWO SISTERS,” “THE BRIDAL EVE,” “LADY OF THE ISLE,” “GIPSY’S PROPHECY,” “VIVIA,” “WIFE’S VICTORY,” “MOTHER-IN-LAW,” “INDIA,” “THE THREE BEAUTIES,” “THE CURSE OF CLIFTON,” “THE DESERTED WIFE,” “LOVE’S LABOR WON,” “FALLEN PRIDE,” “THE CHANGED BRIDES,” “THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS,” ETC., ETC.

“She loved him for the dangers he had passed.”—Shakspeare.

“None but the brave deserve the fair.”—Collins.

PHILADELPHIA:

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS;

306 CHESTNUT STREET.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS,

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.

MRS. EMMA D. E. N. SOUTHWORTH’S WORKS.

Each Work is complete in one large duodecimo volume.

FAIR PLAY; OR, THE TEST OF THE LONE ISLE.

HOW HE WON HER. A SEQUEL TO FAIR PLAY.

THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS.

THE CHANGED BRIDES.

THE THREE BEAUTIES.

THE WIFE’S VICTORY.

THE MOTHER-IN-LAW.

FALLEN PRIDE; OR, THE MOUNTAIN GIRL’S LOVE.

THE BRIDE OF LLEWELLYN.

THE GIPSY’S PROPHECY.

THE FORTUNE SEEKER.

THE DESERTED WIFE.

THE LOST HEIRESS.

RETRIBUTION.

INDIA; OR, THE PEARL OF PEARL RIVER.

THE FATAL MARRIAGE.

THE HAUNTED HOMESTEAD.

LOVE’S LABOR WON.

THE MISSING BRIDE.

LADY OF THE ISLE.

THE TWO SISTERS.

VIVIA; OR, THE SECRET OF POWER.

THE CURSE OF CLIFTON.

THE DISCARDED DAUGHTER.

THE WIDOW’S SON.

ALLWORTH ABBEY.

THE BRIDAL EVE.

Price of each, $1.75 in Cloth; or $1.50 in Paper Cover.

Above books are for sale by all Booksellers. Copies of any or all of the above books will be sent to any one, to any place, postage pre-paid, on receipt of their price by the Publishers,

T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS,

306 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pa.

TO

MRS. FRANCES HENSHAW BADEN,

OF WASHINGTON CITY;

IN COMMEMORATION OF HER ENTIRE DEVOTION,

FOR THE PERIOD OF FOUR YEARS,

TO THE SICK AND WOUNDED SOLDIERS,

IN THE HOSPITALS,

THIS STORY OF THE WAR

IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED,

BY HER SISTER.

Prospect Cottage,

Georgetown, D. C.

February, 1869.

CONTENTS.

HOW HE WON HER.

CHAPTER I.
ERMINIE’S STORY.

How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,

By all their country’s wishes blest!

When spring with dewy fingers cold

Returns to deck their hallowed mould,

She there shall dress a sweeter sod

Than fancy’s feet have ever trod.

By fairy hands their knell is rung,

By forms unseen their dirge is sung.

There honor comes, a pilgrim gray,

To bless the turf that wraps their clay

And freedom shall awhile repair

To dwell, a weeping hermit, there.—Collins.

It was not until the morning succeeding his arrival, after breakfast, when they found themselves alone together in the drawing-room, that Justin told Erminie the story of his voyage and shipwreck, his preservation and residence on the Desert Island, and his rescue and return home.

She listened with breathless interest to his narrative, and when it was finished she earnestly thanked Heaven for his restoration to his home and friends.

And then, in return, she gave him the history of all that had occurred to her since he had first sailed.

She told him of those gathering clouds of disaffection in the South that no one could be made to believe would ever break in a storm of Civil War. She spoke of that solemn day in the Senate when the Southern senators withdrew. She whispered of the shameful, sorrowful day when Fort Sumter was taken, and, in the language of the man who commanded the assault, “The proud flag that had never been humbled before—the star-spangled banner—was humbled to the dust.” She told how these words had burned in the hearts of all true patriots until they lighted a flame of love of country, hate of traitors, never to be quenched; how, at the President’s call for seventy-five thousand men, four times that number started to arms; how even across the broad Atlantic, in Ireland, the warm-hearted lovers of the Union had banded together and offered their services to the Federal Government through our ministers and consuls abroad; how these had been declined en masse, as unneeded then.

Here the Lutheran minister’s orphan child paused to gather strength; for she had next to speak of the fatal fields of Bethel and Ball’s Bluff; and of Bull Run, where her brave father fell. She told the awful history amidst sobs and tears that she could not restrain.

“He died where he fell, before his men, in front of the enemy. He lies buried near the spot, his grave marked by the care of a brother officer, his honored remains waiting only the return of peace to be removed.”

“They shall not-await the return of peace, they shall be brought home immediately,” answered Justin.

Then Erminie spoke of opening her father’s will, and seeing there that he had left his property to his two children, to be divided between them, share and share alike.

“Then my dear father did not believe me to be lost?” said Justin.

“Then we none of us did; there had not been time enough for us to grow anxious. We had got two letters from you, one mailed from Porto Praya, and one from the Cape of Good Hope. When my dear father died we were looking daily for a letter from you from Calcutta.”

“I am glad that he had suffered no anxiety on my account. Go on, sweet sister.”

“Oh, my brother! after that public and private woes came thick and fast. Defeat after defeat discouraged our army, until at length came the crushing shame and sorrow of the last battle of Manassas. Blow upon blow fell upon my own heart, until I thought that the Lord had forgotten to take care of me. I was still weeping, weeping day and night over the death of my dear father, when there came news of the wreck of the Sultana. It came through the officers of that Dutch merchantman who picked up the life-boat with the missionary party on board; and it came in the form of a narrative written by the Reverend Mr. Ely. It was published in all the papers. It contained a list of the names of those whose lives were lost. And, Justin, your name was among them!”

“Poor sister!”

“I laid down to die. I did so wish for death! But I suppose youth and life were too strong within me and I lived and suffered. Ah, Justin! I was a very self-occupied woman up to that time. I thought ‘no sorrow was like unto my sorrow.’ In the midst of that great bitterness of grief I received a telegram from New York calling me to the death-bed of our dear Uncle Friedrich.”

“Yes, I know.”

“I went on immediately and remained with him until he died. Ah, Justin! The scene of that good man’s peaceful departure went far to heal my spirit. He talked to me when he was able; his words were few, but very precious. He told me, in this great crisis of the country’s history, when for the high and holy cause of union and liberty hundreds were suffering more than I, and thousands quite as much; I must not sit down in selfish sorrow, I must get up and minister to those whose sorrows were as great as mine, and whose necessities were so much greater.”

“He was right, Erminie.”

“I know it and I knew it then. He told me to go among the wounded soldiers in the numerous hospitals, and with hand and purse minister to them and relieve their wants. He told me to seek out the bereaved widows and orphans, and mothers of those who had fallen in the holy war; and to serve all as far as they should have need and I have power; but especially—oh! especially to minister to the mourning mothers. ‘Widows,’ he said, ‘may be consoled by second husbands; orphans grow up and forget their fathers; but the mother whose boy has fallen in battle is inconsolable and unforgetting forever. Therefore especially, motherless girl, comfort the childless mothers.’ And kneeling by his bed I kissed his hands and promised to obey his words. And that same day, as the sun went down, he died. But it was not until some days had passed that I knew he had left me all his wealth. Justin, I came home, and I have religiously obeyed his dying instructions, and—in comforting others I have found comfort.”

“As all mourners may, if they will, my sweet sister,” replied her brother. He fell into deep thought for a few minutes, and then, looking earnestly at his sister, he said:

“But, Erminie, in all this long story you have never once mentioned the name of Colonel Eastworth. Where is he? What is he doing? Why are you not married?”

Erminie grew even paler than she had before been; she compressed her lips until they too faded, and then slowly and steadily answered:

“‘Where is he?’ In South Carolina. ‘What is he doing?’ Warring upon his native land. ‘Why are we not married?’ Because the child of Ernest Rosenthal can never be the wife of a man in arms against his country. Never mention his name to me again, Justin. For he was the very caitiff who so gloried in his shame as to boast that he had humbled the proud flag that had never been humbled before!”

And the beautiful eyes of this “falcon-hearted dove” flashed as she spoke.

Justin put out his arms and drew her to his breast; for he saw that those flashing eyes were about to be drowned in tears.

“My dear sister! my dear, dear sister, blow upon blow has indeed fallen fast upon your heart. How much you have suffered!” he said, as he tenderly soothed her.

She wept upon his bosom for a little while, and then lifting her head and wiping her eyes, she smiled and said:

“But I have been comforted, Justin. In comforting others I have been comforted. And now I am more than comforted—I am rejoiced. How all is changed, in public and in private, from grief to joy. And oh! how suddenly changed, brother! In a day! Almost in an hour! Yesterday morning came the glorious news of the victory of Gettysburg, and I knew that the tide of war had turned. Soon after—very soon after—came a messenger of joy to me. The minister that brought me the news of your safe return from—the grave! It was like a miraculous resurrection. Coming directly upon the news of the great victory, it was almost overwhelming. There seemed too much joy for one day!”

“I entreated Dr. Sales to break the matter to you very cautiously,” said Justin.

“Ah! do you think that could be broken to me cautiously?” inquired Erminie, with a smile. “Why, Justin, as soon as he came into the room and I saw his face, I knew that he brought me ‘glad tidings.’ I naturally thought it was of the victory of Gettysburg, so I told him I had heard of it that very morning. But when he drew your name into the conversation, I knew in an instant that you were saved. Oh, Justin, it was such a shock of joy! But it did not kill me, as it might have done.”

“Yes, it might, my sweet sister, for you look very pale, and thin, and fragile—not well able to bear a shock of any sort,” said Justin tenderly.

“Ah, but all is well now. I am happy, so happy, although I weep. You must not mind my weeping, dear. We women often weep most when we are happiest, and—ah, yes! Heaven knows, smile most when we are most wretched!”

“‘Smile most when you are most wretched!’ Where have you learned that bitter lesson, my sister?” Justin gravely questioned.

“In the hospital, where I have seen the heart-broken mother smiling on her mutilated or dying boy to keep his spirits up, as long as he should live.”

“You seem to be very familiar with the wards of the hospitals, my sister.”

“It is the business, the blessing of my life to be so. But, Justin, dear, I wish to ask you about Britomarte. You took care of her on the Desert Island. She saved your life in the sea fight. Ah, how my heart thrilled to the touch of that story. Now you are betrothed, I hope, and soon to marry? Oh, Justin, how cordially I would welcome her here as my sister, and how willingly resign my position as mistress of the house, in her favor. For the house is yours, you know, Justin, and as your wife it would be her right.”

Justin slowly shook his head, compressed his lips, and frowned.

“What do you mean by that, my brother?”

“There is no possibility of a marriage between Miss Conyers and myself,” he said.

“Justin!”

“You know what were Britomarte’s sentiments on the subject of marriage, or rather of the position of a woman in marriage. And now I have only to add that all which has happened to us has not been able to work a change in them.”

“Oh, Justin! I am so sorry!”

“So you see, my dear, there is no chance of your being superseded on the household throne, for since Britomarte will not be my wife, no other woman shall.”

“Oh Justin, what a pity. But if she will not be your wife, she shall be your sister and mine. She shall come here, and share my home and means.”

“She would never do that; she is much too proud to be dependent, even on those who love and honor her most.”

“Then what will become of her? for oh, Justin, it is whispered that—that——”

“What?” inquired the young man, seeing his sister grow pale and large-eyed as she paused.

“That—oh, it is too horrible to breathe—that——”

“For Heaven’s sake, speak, Erminie!”

“—The house is the resort of conspirators, who plan—plan—no less a crime than—than—.” Her voice gradually sank to a whisper, and then stopped altogether.

“Than what? Speak, my sister; take courage and speak!”

“Oh, I cannot! I cannot! Spare me! it is too horrible!”

“But what house is it to which you allude?”

“Witch Elms.”

“And it is said to be the resort of conspirators, who plan—what?” persisted Justin.

“I cannot say it. I hope it is all a mere canard. Certainly the civil and the military authorities have both visited and ransacked the house, but they have discovered nothing there but what they call ‘the fossil remains of an old lady and two negroes,’ meaning Miss Pole, the centenarian aunt of Britomarte, and the two servants.”

“Then the horrible story, whatever it may be, is probably a mere canard, not worth our attention.”

“But Britomarte! She cannot go there, even if her old relative would receive her. What will become of her? What can we do for her?”

“We can do many things in this world, but we can do nothing with the will of a woman like Miss Conyers. We must leave her to the Lord and herself. And have you lived here quite alone all this time, my poor Erminie?” said Justin, pityingly.

“Oh, no. I should have told you before, only there was so much to tell and to hear. Elfrida Fielding is with me. She is a refugee from Virginia. Her father is with General Meade at Gettysburg. We had a telegram from him yesterday. He is wounded but not dangerously, and is coming home on leave.”

“Then they are on the right side.”

“Thank Heaven, yes! But they have suffered very much for their devotion to the Union; they have had their house burned over their heads by the Secessionists, and they escaped the flames only through the fidelity of an old family servant. They have been here ever since. At least this is Elfie’s home always, and her father’s whenever he comes to see her.”

“That is right, my sister. Let the home of our heroic father be the refuge of all whom the war has made homeless, and who seek its threshold. But where is my little friend now? I should be glad to see her.”

“Immediately on receiving the telegram yesterday, she prepared to go to Gettysburg to bring her father home. I also was ready to go with her, when the visit of Mr. Sales with the joyful news of your return stopped my journey. And so Elfie, after kissing and congratulating, and laughing and weeping over me, and sending what she called ‘lots of love’ to you, left in the three o’clock train alone.”

While the sister and brother conversed, the time, unheeded, passed away, and now it was nearly noon, when the door bell rang.

“Oh, I hope that is Britomarte. Did she say she would come early?” inquired Erminie.

“She said she would come this morning—she did not specify the hour,” answered Justin, rising to open the drawing-room door.

Britomarte it was, for Justin met her on the threshold, in the act of being ushered in by Uncle Bob, the old servant of Elfie, who also found a home at the parsonage.

Justin warmly welcomed Miss Conyers, but was cut short in his demonstrations by Erminie, who flew to meet her friend, and fell weeping for joy on Britomarte’s bosom.

“How pale you are, my darling. You have suffered much since I saw you last,” said Miss Conyers, tenderly caressing Erminie.

“Oh, much! much! How much you do not know or guess. But it is all over now, dear Britomarte, quite over, now that I see you and Justin safe, and all is well, now, very well, since the tide of war has turned, and the invaders are flying before our victorious army,” she answered, smiling through her tears.

“And do you know what they are saying outside, my darling?” inquired Miss Conyers, brightly glancing back her smile.

“No! what?” eagerly demanded Erminie.

“Haven’t you been out this morning, Justin?” inquired Miss Conyers, turning to Mr. Rosenthal.

“No—why?”

“Nor received a visitor?”

“No visitor except yourself.”

“Then I have the happiness to be the first to announce the news to you. Vicksburg has capitulated!”

“Vicksburg capitulated!” echoed both Justin and Erminie, in a breath.

“The words are in everybody’s mouth. The stars and stripes are waving from half the windows on the avenue.”

“Oh, Justin, go! go out and learn the particulars, but don’t stay long. I cannot bear you out of my sight long, lest I should wake up and find your return all a dream,” urged Erminie.

And Justin, snatching up his hat and gloves, departed.

And Britomarte and Erminie were left together for a long tête-à-tête. Erminie took Britomarte up into her own bedchamber, and they sat down to talk. What need to relate their conversation? To do it would be to repeat all that is already known to the reader of what happened to each during their long separation. To Britomarte Erminie told the same story that she had told to Justin, and by her was comforted with the same tender sympathy she had received from him. And Britomarte answered all Erminie’s questions concerning the voyage, the wreck, the rescue, the life on the Desert Island, the deliverance from the place, the cruise of the Xyphias, the sea fight, the capture of the privateer, and the voyage home.

CHAPTER II.
THE VETERAN’S RETURN.

Siward—Had he his hurts before?

Rosse—Aye, in the front.

Siward—Why, then, God’s soldier be he!—Shakspeare.

While Erminie and Britomarte talked together, there came a rush of feet upon the stairs, followed by the flinging open of the chamber door, and the sudden appearance of Elfie. She sprang at once towards Britomarte, threw herself upon her bosom, and hugged and kissed her, and laughed and cried over her.

“But, dear Elfie, how soon you have returned. In twenty-four hours. Why, you could scarcely have reached your journey’s end. And how did you find your father? Doing well, I hope, from your joyous looks,” said Erminie, as soon as she could put in a word.

“Oh! yes, the old boy’s all right! He’s got his right arm in a sling, and a plaster on both cheeks, and a patch over his left eye—that’s all. He’s not fit for duty, but he needn’t go to bed before a healthy Christian’s usual hour of retiring,” answered Elfie, as she recovered her breath, and threw herself into a chair.

“But how soon you have got back; I don’t understand it,” said Erminie, returning to the ‘previous question.’

“Don’t you? Well neither do I. All I know is that I came very near passing my awful old responsibility on the road. When the train stopped at the Relay House—which you know used to be a comfortable hotel, but is now turned into something between military headquarters and a beer garden—I looked out of the window, and there, as sure as you live, stood my pap, with a lot of dilapidated heroes of the rank and file, on the platform. I had just time to jump off the car before the train started again.”

“Oh! Elfie, dear, how rash to jump off the cars just as the train was about to start!” exclaimed Erminie.

“‘Rash!’ Well, I like that. How could it have been rash?”

“You might have been killed.”

“But I wasn’t, so it couldn’t have been rash. If I had been hurt, then you might have called it rash; but as I wasn’t, you can only call it fearless. But I don’t want to talk of myself, but of my ferocious old governor, who stood there on the platform, bloody, dusty, smoky, bound, bandaged and plastered, and looking, for all the world, like a disreputable old prize-fighter that had been considerably damaged in the ring.”

“But you met him—oh, you met him as the daughter of a hero should meet her wounded father!” exclaimed Erminie with enthusiasm.

“Which means that I wept over the old boy, and set him to weeping, and made a melting scene among all those soldiers. Not much I didn’t. I took him by his whole arm, and turned him round and round until I had inspected him well, and then I said:

“Oh, you miserable looking old pap. I don’t believe you came from Gettysburg or any other gallant battle-field. I believe you are fresh from a fireman’s free fight, or an election riot, where the pretensions of rival candidates are canvassed with cudgels. Where have you been, and what doing, to get yourself so dirty, and knocked into such an old cocked hat?”

“And my old governor laughed, and said that he had been in a dusty place; that it was very dusty at Gettysburg; and that shot and shell were flying thick and fast.

“I begged him to have the largest bath-tub in the house filled with hot water, and to rub himself down from head to foot with soft soap and hard towels, and put himself in soak for three hours; and I gave him the suit of clean under-clothes that I had brought along in my carpet bag.

“And though in general paps are very disobedient persons, yet he promised to obey me, and he kept his word so far as to take a good bath, while I got up a good dinner for him; and I must confess that he didn’t look half so badly when he joined me at the dinner table, freshly washed and newly clothed, with all the smuts and stains I had taken for bruises and gashes cleansed away. But if all heroes have such heroic appetites as my heroic pap, I don’t wonder famine so often follows war.”

Britomarte laughed, but Erminie said:

“Men who are fighting cannot stop to feed. He must have fasted long.”

“Long! I should think he had fasted forty days and nights. I told him so; and he answered that he felt ‘hollow.’ And I couldn’t help saying as I carved the second fowl for him:

“Pap, I know next to nothing about anatomy and physiology, but from certain indications I should judge you to be hollow all the way down to the soles of your boots.”

“Oh, Elfie! how could you?” exclaimed Erminie. “Have you no veneration at all?”

“Not much. I’m afraid there’s a hole where that bump ought to be. But, as I said before, I don’t want to talk of myself, but of my glorious old governor. Well, at that dinner we had a sort of explanation; for you may be sure, not knowing that I was going on to fetch him, he was as much astonished at seeing me there as I was at seeing him. So in answer to his questions, I told him that, knowing very well he wasn’t able to take care of himself even in the best of times, I had started out with the intention of bringing him home. And then I demanded to know how it happened that he should be loafing about the Relay House in such a disrespectable way; and he told me that, feeling stiff and sore, and hungry and tired, he had got off at the Relay House with the intention of resting for the night before going on to Washington. And then the old fellow got sentimental, and called me his darling child and his brave girl; but I stopped all that by firing off at him the news of Britomarte’s and Justin’s resurrection from a ‘watery grave.’ Girls, it did him more good than all the surgeon’s plasters, and even the bath and dinner. He felt better immediately, and proposed that we should start for Washington by the evening train to welcome you back. But of course I wouldn’t allow that. Instead of letting him go to Washington, I made him go to bed, and carried him a cup of tea, and read to him all the evening. It was the full account of the battle of Gettysburg in the morning paper.”

“But he must have know all about that,” put in Erminie.

“Must he, then? I tell you he was in the thick of the fighting, and yet he knew nothing or next to nothing of it; at least not one-tenth part as much as we know, who were not there, yet who read the papers. ‘It was a dusty place. It was a noisy place. Shot and shell were a flying thick and fast. I was struck several times, but we whipped the rebels!’ That was the sum and substance of all the information I could gain from my warlike pap about the battle; but he listened to the Republican’s long account of it with the deepest interest, and fell asleep in the midst of it. I let him sleep, seeing that he was tired out, and knowing that we would have to continue our journey in the morning.”

“But, Elfie, dear, what have you done with your father now? Let me go to him; he must feel neglected.”

“Oh, no, he don’t. I took him at once to his bed-room and made him lie down and rest; and I asked Catherine to take him up a glass of wine and some biscuits. He’s all right, and will join us at dinner. And now, with your good leave, I will go to my room and get a little of this dust and smoke out of my eyes and nose before presenting myself to the Reverend Justin Rosenthal,” said Elfie, rising.

“Then come to us in the drawing-room, for we are going down there,” said Erminie.

Elfie nodded assent, and then flew out of the room, singing:

“We are coming, Father Abraham,

Three hundred thousand more.”

And Erminie and Britomarte went down stairs to the drawing-room, where, in the course of an hour, they were joined by Elfie, who had renovated herself with a fresh toilet.

When the three friends were seated together, Britomarte said:

“Here are three of our school quartette; but where is the fourth? Where is Alberta Goldsborough?”

“Alberta Corsoni, you mean; for she has changed herself from a planter’s daughter into a bandit’s bride, or a guerrilla’s bride, which amounts to the same thing,” said Elfie.

“She made her escape from the convent, and eloped with Vittorio Corsoni, who married her the same night,” said Erminie.

“Yes; and he was a good fellow enough until he married her. He had embraced the cause of the Union against the rebels. Some people said, however, that he did so only in opposition to old Mr. Goldsborough, who had opposed his union with Alberta. However that may be, he certainly was a Unionist before his marriage. But it seems that Alberta is one of the most determined female rebels that ever lived; and possessing immense influence over her lovesick young husband, she won him to the cause of rebellion; so that now he is one of the most formidable of those brigand leaders who ravage with fire and sword the shores of the Potomac and its tributaries,” said Elfie.

“His Italian nature took readily to guerrilla warfare,” sighed Erminie.

“And now he and my traitor are brother bandits, and the best friends in the world. When either has made a successful raid, he divides the spoils with the other,” laughed Elfie.

“But what a condition to come back and find my native country in! It seems to me as if in dream or trance I had lost my footing in the nineteenth century, and slipped down into the tenth; or as if I had died, and my spirit had passed into another state of existence. This change has come gradually upon you, but upon me it has burst like a thunderbolt. I left the country in smiling peace; I return to find it groaning under all the horrors of civil war,” said Britomarte, bowing her head upon her hand in deep thought.

“Britty, stop that! If people go to musing now, they go mad! It is a time to act, not think!” said Elfie, sharply.

“I know it—I know it—and I shall act!” exclaimed the beautiful amazon.

“Britty, there is one piece of forbearance for which I thank you,” said Elfie, by way of changing the subject.

“What is that?” inquired Miss Conyers.

“Well, although three years ago you warned Erminie and myself that if we should have anything to do with the ‘natural enemy’ we should inevitably come to grief, and although you see that through disregarding your warning we have come to grief, you magnanimously forbear to say—‘I told you so!’”

“I do not think that you have. I call the treason that divided your betrothed lovers from your side a very providential thing, so far as you are concerned. I can mourn over their sins, but not over your escape,” said the man-hater, firmly.

“Yet it hurt some, at the time,” said Elfie, raising her eyebrows; “though I wouldn’t admit that to anybody else but yourself, Britty, it did hurt, didn’t it, Minie?”

Erminie covered her face with her hands, and wept softly.

“It hurts still, you see,” whispered Elfie. “Oh, I hope—I do hope—the next shell that flies into Charleston will cut that fellow in two! As for my traitor, being a guerrilla, I trust that neither shell nor shot will cheat the gallows of its dues.” And Elfie indignantly dashed away the tears that dared to sparkle in her own eyes.

“I am a very weak woman. I must get up and go to the hospital. I should have gone an hour ago. Britomarte, will you come with me?” said Erminie, rising, and wiping her eyes.

“Yes, with pleasure,” said Miss Conyers. “Do you go every day?”

“Twice every day, in order to visit as many as I can. I go in the forenoon, return to dinner, and then go again in the afternoon. And, after all, so many are the hospitals, and so thickly are they crowded, that I can only visit each patient about twice a week, and then how I wish I could be in twenty wards at the same time. You must help me in the hospitals, Britomarte dear. There is so much to do. And when one has devoted all her time and strength and means to the work, and happily eased the sufferings of some scores, there are hundreds of others needing the same help.”

“I hope all our women are doing their duty in this crisis,” said Miss Conyers.

“They are doing what they can; but wives and mothers have very little time, and very little means either, in these war days, to bestow upon the poor soldiers; and young girls are generally inadmissible to the hospitals except at certain stated hours. Me—for some reason or other, perhaps for my respectable black dress and sedate aspect—the surgeons admit at any hour. And heaven has blessed me with ample means and ample leisure to devote to the sick and wounded soldiers.”

“Yours is an angel’s mission, my Minie; and you are worthy to be entrusted with it. You have been weighed in the balance, and not found wanting; you have passed through the fiery furnace of affliction, and come forth pure gold; you have been tried and found faithful; and you have been called to a much higher and holier destiny than would have been yours as the wife of——”

“Oh, don’t! don’t, Britomarte!” exclaimed Erminie, shrinking even from this light touch upon her unhealed wound.

Then reverting to the subject which they had first spoken, she said:

“It is a great school for the spirit—this to which I go. Volumes, libraries could not contain its lessons. Let one give all her time, strength and means to the sufferers there, and she will still receive more—infinitely more—than she gives.”

“In——”

“In the examples of almost superhuman patience, cheerfulness and fortitude among those brave men, who, wounded, mutilated, agonized, will never utter a complaint, will give you smile for smile, and receive with thankfulness any little gift the surgeons will allow you to offer them. Oh! how light seem my own troubles when I look upon theirs!”

“We may judge what their courage in the fields must have been by their fortitude in the hospital,” said Miss Conyers.

“Oh, Britomarte, yes! Ah! if you were to go with me on my rounds among these true heroes, from a man-hater you would become a man-worshipper, Britomarte. And then the extremes of youth and age that we find there! The law has limited compulsory military service to the men between the ages of eighteen and forty-five; but true patriotism draws no such line. My dear father was sixty-one years old when he fell in front of his men on the field of Manassas. In one regiment that I know of there was a grandfather of sixty-three, his two sons of forty and forty-two, and four grandsons between the ages of thirteen and seventeen.”

“That was glorious!” exclaimed Miss Conyers, with enthusiasm.

“And Britomarte, as I live, I found in the Water’s Ware-House Hospital of Georgetown, a boy about twelve years old, who had been brought in among the last lot of wounded from the battle-field of Manassas! When I expressed astonishment and pity, I was told that there were boys of twelve who were soldiers of the line! And since then I have learned beyond all question that such is the fact!”

“Oh, Erminie! if what you tell me is true, as I have no doubt that it is, what a race of heroes the women of America have brought forth!” exclaimed Miss Conyers, with all the enthusiasm of her soul shining in her eyes.

“I thought you would grow into a man-worshipper, Britomarte,” said Erminie, smiling.

“And I thought she would contrive to turn over all the glory to the women, where, of course, it justly belongs, as she has done!” exclaimed Elfie, saucily, quoting—“What a race of heroes the women of America have brought forth!”

“Come, let us put on our bonnets and go to the Douglas Hospital,” said Erminie.

But just at that moment the bell rang, and the next instant the door opened and Justin entered the drawing-room, accompanied by Lieutenant Ethel.

Elfie sprang up to greet her old acquaintance, but dropped into her seat again on seeing a stranger.

Justin advanced and warmly shook hands with his little friend, and with Britomarte, and then he brought up Lieutenant Ethel and presented him to the party.

“I am very glad to see you, sir; and I have to thank you very earnestly for your great kindness to my brother and friends in their extremity,” said Erminie.

The young officer bowed lowly before the beautiful, pale girl, who thus addressed him, and he replied:

“It will now be a much greater pleasure to me than ever, to remember that I was able to be of some slight service to your friends, Miss Rosenthal.”

“I trust that you will give us some opportunity of proving our gratitude to you, Mr. Ethel. My brother informs me that your duties will detain you here in Washington for some days or weeks. I hope that you will gratify us by making our quiet house your home during the period of your stay,” said Erminie.

“A thousand thanks, Miss Rosenthal! But my domestication in this lovely home would be much too great a tax upon your kindness, and very much too great a happiness for my merits,” said the young officer.

“I assure you it would give us sincere pleasure to have you,” urged Erminie.

“Ethel shall stay just where he is, Erminie. Give yourself no further trouble to press him. I was his guest for many weeks, and he shall be mine for many days, at least. Oh, I haven’t consulted him on the subject. I knew it would be useless. I ordered his man Martin to pack up his effects and bring them over here this afternoon. So, sister, you may have a room made ready for the lieutenant, and a hammock swung somewhere for the seaman—or lacking a hammock, an ordinary cot and mattress will do,” said Justin.

“Oh, Rosenthal,” began the young officer.

“Hold your tongue, Ethel! You’re not on your quarterdeck now! I’m commander of this ship, and I mean to be obeyed!” exclaimed Justin.

“But you will allow me to say——”

“Not a syllable against dropping your anchor in this harbor.”

“Well, I won’t! I was only about to observe that I used to hear Judith threaten her ‘gay Tom’ to make him do as he liked! You are only making me do as I like,” said the young lieutenant, with a bow to Erminie.

“And now let us talk about something else! Young ladies, this is a great holiday! To-night there is to be a brilliant illumination, in honor of the two great victories of Gettysburg and Vicksburg. I have ordered in several pounds of wax-candles, which, when they come, you will have cut into the proper lengths. I have also spoken to a carpenter to come and fix holders for the lights at the windows. You can send a servant with him through the rooms,” said Justin.

CHAPTER III.
JUSTIN ENLISTS.—ELFIE DRILLS.

Sound, sound the clarion—fill, fill the fife!

To all the sensual world proclaim,

One crowded hour of glorious strife

Is worth an age without a name!

’Twas bustle in the street below—

“Forward! march!” and forth they go.

Steeds neigh and trample all around—

Steel rings, spears glitter, trumpets sound!—Scott.

Young Ethel remained the honored guest of the old parsonage. He had been relieved of the command of the Sea Scourge and promoted to the rank of first lieutenant, and he was now waiting orders.

Major Fielding also, while recovering from his wounds, made the parsonage his home.

But neither arguments nor entreaties could induce Miss Conyers to profit by the large-hearted hospitality of the Rosenthals, and take up even a temporary residence under their roof. She found cheap board in a respectable private family, on the suburbs, near the parsonage, and she visited her friends very often, and went every day with Erminie to the hospitals.

Justin, very soon after his return home, made known his intention of enlisting as a private soldier in the army.

This announcement filled the heart of his sister with dismay. All the latent pride in the gentle bosom of the Lutheran minister’s meek child arose in arms. In her own person, so deep was her humility of love, she would have stooped to the most menial office by which she could serve her country, or one of its lowliest defenders; but for her idolized brother she was more ambitious, and she could not endure the thought of the hardships, privations and humiliations he would have to suffer as a soldier in the ranks.

“Do try to get a captain’s commission in one of the new regiments now being filled up. You and your friends have influence enough to secure one; you know it, Justin,” she urged.

“But, my Minie, I know no more of the science of military tactics than I do of the art of alchemy,” laughed Justin.

“What of that? Are not lawyers’ clerks, doctors’ boys, counter-jumpers, barbers, bar-tenders, penny-a-liners, and all sorts of men, who know no more of the science of war than you do, daily turned into commissioned officers—captains, majors, colonels, and even brigadier-generals?” rather impatiently demanded Erminie.

“And hence the defeats that attended our arms during the first two years of the war. No, Erminie; I am not so presumptuous as to apply for even a second lieutenancy, while conscious that I know nothing of tactics,” said Justin, seriously.

“Oh, but you can learn. There are no end to the works on military tactics. You meet them staring you in the face from every bookseller’s window, and find them lumbering up every counter where the new novels used to be displayed.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“I could not begin to tell you how many there are; but two of them I remember—Casey’s Infantry Tactics and Hardee’s ditto; each in three pretty volumes, that look for all the world like song-books—little mites of volumes, that a hard student like you could master in a week.”

“I dare say,” said Justin, smiling; “and at the end of a week I should be very competent to drill a company, manœuvre a regiment, or fight a battle—on paper!”

“Oh, nonsense, brother! don’t be sarcastic. I tell you it is all easy enough. I began reading the first volume of Hardee myself, and I assure you I feel equal to the simple regimental drill. Now do, Justin, study tactics for an examination for a captain’s commission in one of the new regiments.”

“My good little sister, tactics cannot be learned from books comfortably conned in the chimney corner. They must be learned on the parade ground and on the battle-field.”

“But I cannot bear that you, with your scholarly intellect and refined habits should be a common soldier, Justin! I cannot bear it!” said Erminie, almost ready to cry.

“My Minie! for ages to come the children of the ‘common soldiers’ who fight in this war for the Union will look back upon their forefathers with more just pride than ever did the sons of kings upon their royal ancestry.”

“I know it, Justin! But, in the meantime, the association! Why, the rank and file of our army are made up of all sorts of men!” pleaded Erminie.

“My sister, your experience among the wounded soldiers in the hospitals must have taught you that there are as noble men and true gentlemen in the rank and file of our army as any that ever wore the stars of a major-general,” said Justin, very gravely.

“I know it! oh, I know it! Heaven forgive me for my pride; for while you spoke I thought of Grandison, a Frenchman, who died after many months of suffering in the Trinity Church hospital in Georgetown. He was one of the most accomplished scholars and polished gentlemen I ever met anywhere, not even excepting his countrymen the Orleans princes whom I met at the President’s reception. Heaven forgive me for saying anything in disparagement of the common soldier!” said Erminie, meekly, as her brown eyes filled with tears at the remembrance of the dying soldier whose death-bed she had smoothed.

“And you will oppose my plan no longer, my sister?” inquired Justin, caressing her.

“No longer,” she murmured in reply.

So Justin went and enlisted in a new regiment that was being formed to go into active service.

And his sister saw no more of him for a week, at the end of which he re-appeared at the parsonage with his fine auburn hair cropped close to his head and surmounted by the soldier’s cap, and his athletic form displayed to the very best advantage in the round blue jacket and trowsers of the private’s uniform.

The three young ladies were alone in the drawing-room when he was ushered in in this dress.

Half laughing and half crying, Erminie sprang to welcome him.

With visible emotion Britomarte also offered him her hand.

And Elfie openly expressed her opinion:

“Justin, you were cut out for a common soldier! I never saw you look so well in my life. But then the closefitting uniform of a private certainly does show off ‘a fine figure of a man,’ as no other dress in the world could. Somehow or other, I think of a gladiator, and of an Apollo, and the Colossus of Rhodes, when I look at you in that tight fit, Mr. Rosenthal.”

“Miss Fielding, I am your slave and your knight. Were it permitted in the ranks, I would pin your glove upon my cap for a feather and bear it through the battle-field to certain victory!” said Justin, laughing and bowing.

“No, don’t! Britomarte would put a spider in my dumplin!”

“Elfie!” indignantly exclaimed Miss Conyers.

“You know you’d poison me if I should dare to—hem—be a friend of Justin’s! Oh, I know! I’ve read the story of the dog in the manger! how the dog couldn’t eat the hay and wouldn’t let the heifer eat it!” laughed the girl.

“You are privileged to jest roughly, I suppose,” said Miss Conyers, coldly.

“I know I am,” admitted Elfie—“privileged to do everything but flirt with Justin. If I was to dare to do that—hush, girls! you know how Britty can hate men, but you will never know how she can hate women until some unlucky woman gives Justin her glove to wear in his cap!—Mercy! there, I’ve done!” exclaimed Elfie, shrinking from Britomarte’s flashing eyes. “And now we’ll change the subject. Justin, mon brave! you look very clean and very nice; your tight suit is such a clear bright blue, and your shirt-collar is as white as the driven snow; but, Justin, mon ami, can you keep clean over there in camp? that is the question! or, when you come to see us, shall we have to put you in soak over night before we can breakfast with you next morning?”

“The river flows below our fort, and the sutlers keep a good supply of brown soap and crash towels, so I have hopes to be able to keep out of the category of the ‘unwashed!’” said the volunteer.

“I am very glad to hear it. For as far as my observation goes, there seems to be the most intimate relationship, and an inevitable connection, between dirt and glory. Why, even my pap, in speaking of the victorious field of Gettysburg, could only describe it as a ‘very dusty’ place.”

As Justin was obliged to be back at his camp before the hour of “tattoo,” he could stay but a few minutes with his friends. He soon arose, took an affectionate leave of them, and went away.

After this they saw but little of him at the parsonage.

And when Erminie wished to see her brother, she had to get a pass from the provost marshal’s office, and cross the river, and visit him in camp, in one of the forts of the lines forming the southern defences of Washington.

All this time Major Fielding passed his days reclining in an easy chair under the shade of the vine-wreathed porch, reading, smoking, and recruiting his strength.

Young Ethel went every day to the Navy Department, with which he seemed to have a great deal of business.

Britomarte and Erminie went daily to the hospitals, with kind words and good gifts to the soldiers.

And what was Elfie doing? For one thing, she was making great havoc in the heart of the young lieutenant, who had been, from the first, fascinated by her elfin charms, and for another thing, by the mysteriousness and eccentricity of her appearance and deportment, she was exciting all manner of disagreeable conjectures concerning herself among her surrounding friends.

She was not encouraging her young adorer; far from it, she was snubbing him in the most contemptuous manner possible, by either ignoring his offered attentions entirely, or else repelling them carelessly, as she would have brushed off a troublesome fly.

She grew moody, silent and unsocial. She studied Casey’s Tactics all day long, except for an hour in the morning, which she spent in drilling. She borrowed her father’s rifle, and went through the exercises with it, while the quiet drawing-room of the parsonage echoed with “the accents of an unknown tongue.”

“Shoale-dore—HUMS! Pre-sent—HUMS! Shoale-dore—HUMS!”