UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 " ' TAKE CARE, MOTHER ! ' HE SAID.
 
 Butbor's Definitive jEDItfon 
 
 IN WAR TIME 
 
 S. WEIR MITCHELL, M.D. 
 
 LL.D. HARVARD AND EDINBURGH 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE CENTURY CO. 
 1905
 
 Copyright, 1884, by 
 S. WEIR MITCHELL, M. D. 
 
 All rights reserved.
 
 PS 
 
 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 IN the latter part of the afternoon of a summer 
 day in the year 1863, a little crowd gathered near 
 the door of the military hospital on Filbert Street, 
 in the city of Philadelphia. Like the rest of the 
 vast camps of the sick, which added in those days 
 to the city population some twenty-five thousand 
 of the maimed and ill, this one has been lost, in 
 the healing changes with which civilizing progress, 
 no less quickly than forgiving nature, is apt to 
 cover the traces of war. 
 
 The incident which drew to the hospital gate a 
 small crowd was common in those days. Ambu- 
 lances were bringing to its portal a share of such 
 wounded men as were fit to be removed to a dis- 
 tance from Gettysburg and distributed among the 
 great hospitals of the North. A surgeon in green 
 sash and undress army uniform stood bareheaded 
 within the shade of the doorway. Beside the curb- 
 stone, near the ambulances, a younger man, an as- 
 sistant surgeon, directed the attendants, as they 
 bore the wounded into the building on stretchers 
 between double lines of soldiers of the invalid
 
 2 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 corps, who at that time did guard duty in our hos- 
 pitals. 
 
 The surgeon at the doorway, a tall, refined- 
 looking man, so erect as to seem a little stiff in 
 figure, made occasional comments in a quiet, well- 
 bred voice, rather monotonously free from the de- 
 cisive sharpness which habits of command are apt 
 to produce. 
 
 " Break step, my men. Break step you shake 
 the stretcher! Break step make more room 
 there, sergeant. Keep back the crowd." 
 
 Sometimes, a man got out of the ambulance with 
 help, and limped eagerly into the open doorway ; 
 sometimes, lost to all around him, one was borne 
 in motionless; sometimes, it was a face to which 
 death had already whispered, " Come." In the lit- 
 tle hall the bearers paused, while a young surgeon 
 asked a few brief questions, after which the sick 
 man was given his iced lemonade, or some other 
 refreshing drink, and taken away. 
 
 Now and then an officer was carried in. This 
 was usually some desperately wounded man, unable 
 to be taken to his home. As these sufferers passed 
 the surgeon in charge, he noted the scrap of uni- 
 form, or the cap, and drawing himself up saluted 
 with excessive military accuracy. Were the man 
 too ill or too careless to notice this courtesy, a faint 
 lift of the surgeon's brow, some slight treachery of 
 the features, showed that he, at least, felt that 
 nothing less than paralysis would have prevented 
 him from returning the military salutation.
 
 72V WAR TIME. 3 
 
 Meanwhile, about two squares away, as Philadel- 
 phians say, a man and woman were walking some- 
 what rapidly toward the hospital. The man was 
 what is known in the army as a " contract-assistant 
 surgeon," that is, a physician taken from civil life 
 and paid at a certain rate per month to do the duty 
 of a military surgeon. In some cases these gentle- 
 men lived in the hospitals, and were of course ex- 
 pected to wear uniform, and to submit to all the 
 usual rules of military life. Others merely at- 
 tended at set hours, and included not only certain 
 of the most able men in the profession of medicine, 
 but also a great number of the more or less compe- 
 tent, glad enough of the eighty dollars a month 
 which they received. Among these latter were 
 many of those hapless persons who drift through 
 life, and seize, as they are carried along, such mor- 
 sels of good luck as the great tides of fortune float 
 within reach of their feeble tentacula. This con- 
 tract surgeon was a man of full middle height. He 
 stooped slightly, but the habit became oddly notice- 
 able owing to his uniform, on which the surgeon in 
 charge insisted during the time of the hospital visit. 
 He wore a military cap, under which his hair 
 curled softly. His features were distinct but deli- 
 cate, and the upper lip, which was short, retreated 
 a little, a peculiarity apt to give to the countenance 
 a certain purity of expression. His face was clean 
 shaved, but he had better have worn a mustache, 
 since the mouth was too regular for manly beauty. 
 As he went by, two sun-browned young fellows in
 
 4 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 uniform, and wearing their corps marks, turned 
 and glanced at him. One of them said, " What 
 an interesting face ! " The other returned, smiling, 
 "But what a careless figure ! and a soldier with a 
 sun umbrella is rather droll." In fact, there was 
 a certain look of indifference to appearances about 
 the man's whole aspect, and the umbrella which 
 had excited remark was carried at a lazy slope over 
 the shoulder. Evidently, he felt very keenly the 
 damp, oppressive heat of the July day ; but while 
 this was seen in the indolent slowness of his walk, 
 his face showed plainly that the mind was more 
 alive than the body. As they crossed the small 
 park then known as Penn Square, he paused to 
 pick up a flower, counted its stamina, and stowed 
 it away in the lining of his cap. An insect on his 
 sister's sleeve drew his attention. The trees, the 
 passers-by, a monkey and a hand-organ at a street 
 corner, all seemed to get in turn a share of alert, 
 attentive regard. 
 
 The woman beside him was a strange contrast. 
 Unmindful of anything about her, she walked on 
 steadily with a firm, elastic step, and a face which, 
 however pleasing, and it was distinctly that, 
 was not remarkable for decided expression. "What- 
 ever might have been her fortunes, time as yet had 
 failed to leave upon her face any strong lines of 
 characterization. Absolute health offers a certain 
 resistance to these grim chiselings of face ; and in 
 this woman ruddy cheeks, clear eyes, and round 
 facial lines above a plump but well-built and com
 
 IN WAR TIME. 5 
 
 pact frame told of a rarely wholesome life. She 
 was dressed in gray linen, fitting her well, but 
 without cuffs, collar, or ribbon ; and although the 
 neatness of her guise showed that it must have ex- 
 acted some care, it was absolutely devoid of orna- 
 ment. In her hand she carried a rather heavy bas- 
 ket, which now and then she shifted from one side 
 to the other, for relief. 
 
 Presently they turned into Filbert Street from 
 Broad Street. 
 
 " Do look, Ann ! " said Dr. Wendell to his sis- 
 ter. " I never pass this paper mulberry-tree with- 
 out a sense of disgust. There is a reptilian vile- 
 ness of texture and color about the trunk ; and 
 don't you remember how, when we were children, 
 we used to try to find two leaves alike ? Don't 
 you think, Ann, there is something exasperating 
 about that ? I was trying to think why it annoyed 
 me now. It is such a contradiction to the ten- 
 dency of nature toward monotonous repetition." 
 
 " You had best be trying to hurry up a little," 
 returned Miss Wendell. 
 
 " Do give me that basket, dear," said her com- 
 panion, pausing ; " it is much too heavy for you. 
 I should have carried it myself." 
 
 " It is not heavy," she said, smiling, " and I am 
 very well used to it. But I do think, brother Ezra, 
 we must hurry. Why cannot you hurry! You 
 are half an hour late now, and do look at your 
 vest! It is buttoned all crooked, and Why, 
 there is quite a crowd at the hospital door ! Oh,
 
 6 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 why were you so late ! and they do fuss so when 
 you are late." 
 
 "I see, I see," he said. "What can it be? I 
 wish it was n't so hot. Do hurry, Ann ! " 
 
 The woman smiled faintly. "Yes, it is warm. 
 Here, take this basket. I am tired out." Upon 
 which, somewhat reluctantly lowering his umbrella, 
 he took the basket, and quickened his pace. A 
 large man, solidly built, drove by in a victoria, 
 with servants on the box, himself in cool white. 
 Dr. Wendell glanced at him as he passed, and 
 thought, " That looks like the incarnation of suc- 
 cess ! " and wondered vaguely what lucky fates had 
 been that man's easy ladders. Very successful men 
 and people who have had many defeats both get to 
 be superstitious believers in blind fortune, while a 
 certain amount of misfortune destroys in some all 
 the germs of success. For others, a failure is like 
 a blow. It may stagger, but it excites to forceful 
 action. 
 
 " Come ! " said his sister, looking as worried and 
 flushed as if she, and not he, had been to blame ; 
 and in a minute or two they were entering the hos- 
 pital. 
 
 " Good-evening, Miss Wendell," said the sur- 
 geon ; " excuse me don't stand in the way. A 
 moment, Dr. Wendell, a moment," he added, 
 saluting him ; and glancing, with a gentleman's in- 
 stinct, after Miss Wendell, to be sure she was out 
 of hearing. Then turning, he said to his subordi- 
 nate, "You are a full half hour late; in fact,"
 
 IN WAR TIME. 7 
 
 taking out his watch, " the clock misled me, you 
 are thirty-nine minutes late. Sergeant, don't let 
 me see that clock wrong again. It should be set 
 every morning." 
 
 Wendell flushed. Like most men who think 
 over-well of themselves, he was sensitive to all re- 
 proof, and the training of civil life, while it had 
 made more or less of hardship easy to bear, had 
 unfitted him for the precision which that army sur- 
 geon exacted alike from his juniors and his clocks. 
 
 " I was somewhat delayed," said Wendell. 
 
 " Ah ? No matter about excuses. You, we all 
 xof us, are portions of a machine. I never excuse 
 myself to myself, or to others. Yes yes I 
 know " as Wendell began again to explain. At 
 this moment the soldiers set down at his feet a 
 stretcher just removed from an ambulance, while 
 another set of bearers took their places. 
 
 The surgeon saluted the new-comer on his little 
 
 palliasse, noting that around him lay a faded coat 
 
 of Confederate gray, with a captain's stripes on the 
 
 i/ shoulders. The wounded man returned the salute 
 
 with his left arm. 
 
 "You were hurt at Gettysburg?" said the sur- 
 geon. 
 
 "Yes, sir. On Cemetery Hill; and a damned 
 hard fight, too ! We were most all left there. I 
 shall never see a better fight if I go to heaven 1 " 
 
 The attendants laughed, but the surgeon's face 
 . rested unmoved. 
 
 " I hope you will soon be welL" Then he added
 
 8 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 kindly, " Dr. Wendell, see that this gentleman is 
 put in Ward Two, near a window, and give him 
 some milk punch at once ; he looks pale. No 
 lemonade ; milk punch. Come now, my men ; 
 move along ! Who next ? Ah, Major Morton, I 
 have been expecting you ! " and he bent to shake 
 hands warmly with a sallow man who filled the 
 next stretcher. " I am sorry and glad to see you 
 here. I got your dispatch early to-day. Gettys- 
 burg, too, I suppose ? " 
 
 *' Yes, Cemetery Hill. I wonder the old Fifth 
 has any one alive ! " 
 
 " Well, well," replied the surgeon, " we shall 
 give you a health brevet soon. Bed Number Five, 
 next to the last man. Take good care of Major 
 Morton, Dr. Wendell. He is an old friend of 
 mine. There, easy, my men ! I will presently see 
 to you myself, Morton." 
 
 And so the long list of sick and hurt were car- 
 ried in, one by one, a small share of the awful har- 
 vest of Gettysburg, until, as night fell, the surgeon 
 turned and entered the hospital, the sentinel re- 
 sumed his place at the open door, and the crowd of 
 curious scattered and passed away. 
 
 Meanwhile, Dr. Wendell went moodily up-stairs 
 to the vast ward which occupied all the second 
 floor of the old brick armory. He was one of those 
 unhappy people who are made sore for days by 
 petty annoyances ; nor did the possession of consid. 
 erable intelligence and much imagination help him. 
 In fact, these qualities served only, as is usual in
 
 IN WAR TIME. 9 
 
 such natures, to afford him a more ample fund of 
 self -torment. In measuring himself with others, 
 he saw that in acquisitions and mind he was their 
 superior, and he was constantly puzzled to know 
 why he failed where they succeeded. 
 
 The vast hall which he entered was filled with 
 long rows of iron bedsteads, each with its little 
 label for the owner's name, rank, disease, and treat- 
 ment suspended from the iron cross-bar above the 
 head of the sufferer. Beside each bed stood a 
 small wooden table, with one or two bottles and 
 perhaps a book or two upon it. The walls were 
 whitewashed, the floor was scrupulously clean, and 
 an air of extreme and even accurate neatness per- 
 vaded the place. Except for the step of a nurse, 
 or occasional words between patients near to one 
 another, or the flutter of the fans which some of 
 them were using to cool themselves in the excessive 
 heat, there was but little noise. 
 
 Dr. Wendell followed the litters and saw the 
 two officers, gray coat and blue coat, placed com- 
 fortably in adjoining beds. 
 
 " Are you all right ? " said Wendell to the Con- 
 federate. 
 
 " Oh, yes, doctor ! I 've had too hard a time to 
 growl. This is like heaven ; it 's immensely like 
 heaven ! " 
 
 Miss WendeU had foUowed them, after distrib- 
 uting here and there some of the contents of her 
 basket. 
 
 " Stop," she said to her brother ; " let them lift
 
 10 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 him. There," she added with a satisfied air, as 
 she shook up and replaced the pillow, " there, 
 that is better ! Here are two or three ripe peaches. 
 You said it was like heaven. Don't you think 
 all pleasant things ought to make us think of 
 heaven?" 
 
 " Oh, by George," he replied ; " my dear lady, 
 did you ever have a bullet in your shoulder? I 
 can't think, for torment. I can only feel." 
 
 " That may have its use, too," said she, simply. 
 " I have been told that pain is a great preacher." 
 
 The patient smiled grimly. " He gets a fel- 
 low's attention, any way, if that 's good preach- 
 ing!" 
 
 " Ann, Ann ! " exclaimed her brother. " Don't 
 talk to him. Don't talk, especially any I mean, 
 he is too tired." 
 
 " I do not think I hurt him, brother," she re- 
 turned, in a quiet aside. " But there are errands 
 which may not be delayed to wait for our times of 
 ease." 
 
 " Oh, it is no matter, doctor," said the officer, 
 smiling, as he half heard Dr. Wendell's comment. 
 " I like it. Don't say a word. It would be a 
 pleasure even to be scolded by a woman. It is all 
 right, I know ! Thank you, miss. A little water, 
 please." And then the doctor and his sister turned 
 to the other bed. 
 
 " Major Morton, I believe ? " said the doctor. 
 
 "Yes, John Morton, Fifth Pennsylvania Re- 
 serves. Confound the bed, doctor, how hard it is I
 
 IN WAR TIME. 11 
 
 Are all your beds like this ? It 's all over hum- 
 mocks, like a damson pie ! " 
 
 The doctor felt that somehow he was accused. 
 
 " I never noticed it," said Wendell. " The beds 
 are not complained of." 
 
 " But I complain, of it. However, I shall get 
 used to it, I suppose. There must be at least six 
 feathers in the pillow ! " 
 
 " It is n't feather. It is hair," remarked Miss 
 Wendell. " That 's much cooler, you know." 
 
 " Cooler ! " replied the major. " It 's red hot. 
 Everything is red hot ! But I suppose it is myself. 
 Confound the flies ! I wonder what the deuce 
 they 're for ! Could n't I have a net ? " 
 
 " Flies ? " reflected Miss WendeU. They must 
 be right but but they are dirty ! " She wisely, 
 however, kept silence as to the place and function 
 of flies in nature. " I will ask for a net," she said. 
 
 " Oh, yes, do," he returned ; " that 's a good 
 woman." 
 
 "I am not a good woman," exclaimed Miss 
 WendeU, "but I will ask about the net." 
 
 " Oh, but you will be, if you get me a net," con- 
 tinued the patient. " And ask, too, please, about 
 my wife. She was to be in the city to-day." 
 
 He spoke like one used to command, and as if 
 his discomforts were to receive instant attention. 
 In the field no man was easier pleased, or less ex- 
 acting about the small comforts of camp, but the 
 return to a city seemed to let loose all the habitual 
 demands of a life of ease.
 
 12 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Dr. Wendell promised to see about the lady. 
 
 Mrs. Morton was to come from Saratoga, and 
 why could not Dr. Lagrange see him at once? 
 Every one kept him waiting, and he supposed Mrs. 
 Morton would keep him waiting, like every one 
 else. 
 
 At length Miss Wendell said, " My brother has 
 his duties here, sir. I think I can go and see about 
 it. You must needs feel troubled concerning your 
 wife. As you look for her to-day, I might meet 
 her at the depot, because, if, as you have said, she 
 does not know to what hospital you have been 
 taken, she will be in great distress, great dis- 
 tress, I should think." 
 
 "Yes, great distress," repeated Major Morton, 
 with an odd gleam of amusement on his brown 
 face. " But how will you know her ? Stop ! Yes 
 she telegraphed me she would come by an after- 
 noon train to-morrow, and I am a day too soon, you 
 see." 
 
 " There are only three trains," said Miss Wen- 
 dell, looking at the time-table in an evening paper, 
 which an orderly had been sent to find. " I can 
 go to them all, if you wish. I do not mind taking 
 trouble for our wounded soldiers. It is God's cause, 
 sir. Don't let it worry you." 
 
 Morton's mustache twitched with the partly con- 
 trolled merriment of the hidden lips beneath it. 
 There was, for his nature, some difficulty in seeing 
 relations between a large belief and small duties. 
 There was the Creator, of whom he thought with
 
 IN WAR TIME. 13 
 
 vagueness, and who certainly had correct relations 
 to Christ Church ; but what had he to do with a 
 woman going to look for another woman at a depot ? 
 
 " You might tell my sister, major, what Mrs. 
 Morton is like," suggested Dr. Wendell. 
 
 " Like ? " returned Morton, rather wearily, and 
 then again feebly amused at the idea of describing 
 his wife. " Like, like ? By George, that 's a droll 
 idea!". 
 
 Most of us, in fact, would have a little trouble 
 in accurately delineating for a stranger the people 
 familiar to us, and would, if abruptly required to 
 do so, be apt to hesitate, or, like the major, to halt 
 altogether. 
 
 " Like ? " he again said. " God bless me I why, 
 I could n't describe myself ! " 
 
 "But her gown?" said Miss Wendell, with in- 
 genuity, and remembering, with a sense of approval 
 of her own cleverness, that she herself, having but 
 two gowns, might through them, at least, be iden- 
 tified. 
 
 Major Morton laughed. " Gown ? She may 
 have had twenty gowns since I saw her. It is 
 quite eighteen months. You might look for a tall 
 woman, rather simply dressed, handsome woman, 
 I may say. Small boy with her, a maid, and no 
 end of bundles, bags, rugs, all that sort of thing. 
 You must know." 
 
 Miss Wendell was not very clear in her own mind 
 that she did know, but, seeing that the wounded 
 man was tired, accepted his description as suffi-
 
 14 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 cient, and said cheerfully, " No doubt I shall find 
 her. Good-night." 
 
 " Beg pardon, doctor, but I did n't quite catch 
 your name," said the patient. 
 
 "My name is Wendell, Dr. Wendell," re- 
 turned the doctor. 
 
 " Thanks ; and one thing more, doctor : send me 
 some opium, and soon, too. I am suffering like 
 the devil!" 
 
 " How little he knows ! " thought Miss Wendell, 
 with a grave look and an inward and satisfactory 
 consciousness that her beliefs enabled her at least 
 to entertain a higher and more just appreciation in 
 regard to the improbable statement he had made. 
 
 " Yes," replied the doctor. " We '11 see about 
 it." He had a feeling, not quite uncommon in his 
 profession, that such suggestions in regard to treat- 
 ment were in a measure attacks on his own prerog- 
 ative of superior intelligence. " We shall see," he 
 said, " when we make the evening round." 
 
 " Confound the fellow, and his evening round ! " 
 growled the major under his mustache. "I wish 
 he had my leg, or I had him in my regiment." 
 
 But happy in the assertion of his professional 
 position, Dr. Wendell had rejoined his sister, the 
 more content because he felt that she had relieved 
 him of the trouble of finding the wife of the officer. 
 Like many people who, intellectually, are active 
 enough, he disliked physical exertion. At times, 
 indeed, he mildly reproached himself for the many 
 burdens he allowed his sister to carry, and yet
 
 IN WAR TIME. 15 
 
 failed to see how largely she was the power which 
 supplemented his own nature by urging him along 
 with an energy which often enough distressed him, 
 and as often hurt his self-esteem. There are in 
 life many of these partnerships: a husband with 
 intellect enough, owing the driving power to a 
 wife's sense of duty, or to her social ambitions ; a 
 brother with character, using, half-unconsciously, 
 the generous values of a sister's more critical intel- 
 ligence. When one of the partners in these con- 
 cerns dies, the world says, "Oh, yes, he is quite 
 used up by this death. Now he has lost all his 
 activity. Poor fellow, he must have felt it very 
 deeply."
 
 n 
 
 MOODS are the climates of the mind. They warm 
 or chill resolves, and are in turn our flatterers or 
 our cynical satirists. With some people, their 
 moods are fatal gifts of the east or the west wind ; 
 while with others, especially with certain women, 
 and with men who have feminine temperaments, 
 they come at the call of a resurgent memory, of a 
 word that wounds, of a smile at meeting, or at 
 times from causes so trivial that while we acknowl- 
 edge their force we seek in vain for the reasons of 
 their domination. With Wendell, the moods to 
 which he was subject made a good deal of the sun 
 and shade of life. He was without much steady 
 capacity for resistance, and yielded with a not in- 
 curious attention to his humors, being either 
 too weak or too indifferent to battle with their in- 
 fluence, and in fact having, like many persons of 
 intelligence, without vigor of character, a pleasure 
 in the belief that he possessed in a high degree in- 
 dividualities, even in the way of what he knew to 
 be morbid. 
 
 One of these overshadowing periods of depres- 
 sion was brought on by his sister's mild remon- 
 strance concerning his want of punctuality, and by 
 the reproof of his superior, Dr. Lagrange, or, as he
 
 IN WAR TIME. 17 
 
 much preferred to be addressed, Major Lagrange, 
 such being his titular rank on the army register. 
 
 Miss Wendell had gone home first, and Wendell 
 was about to follow her, when he was recalled by 
 an orderly, who ran after him to tell him of the 
 sudden death of one of his patients. Death was an 
 incident of hospital life too common to excite men, 
 in those days of slaughter ; but it so chanced that, 
 as regards this death, Wendell experienced a cer- 
 / tain amount of discomfort. A young officer had 
 died abruptly, from sudden exertion, and Wendell 
 felt vaguely that his own mood had prevented him 
 from giving the young man such efficient advice as 
 might have made him more careful. The thought 
 was not altogether agreeable. 
 
 " I ought never to have been a doctor," groaned 
 Wendell to himself. " Everything is against me." 
 Then, seeing no criticism in the faces of the nurses, 
 he gave the usual orders in case of a death, and, 
 with a last glance at the moveless features and open 
 eyes of the dead, left the ward. 
 
 There is probably no physician who cannot recall 
 some moment in his life when he looked with doubt 
 and trouble of mind on the face of death; but for 
 the most part his is a profession carried on with 
 uprightness of purpose and habitual watchfulness, 
 so that it is but very rarely that its practitioners 
 have as just reason for self-reproach as Wendell 
 had. 
 
 Very ill at ease with himself, he walked toward 
 the station, where, having missed his train, he had
 
 18 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 to wait for half an hour. Sitting here alone, he 
 soon reasoned himself into his usual state of self- 
 satisfied calm. It was after all a piece of bad for- 
 tune, and attended with no consequences to him- 
 self ; one of many deaths, the every-day incidents 
 of a raging war and of hospital life. Very likely 
 it would have happened soon or late, let him have 
 done as he might. A less imaginative man would 
 have suffered less; a man with more conscience 
 would have suffered longer, and been the better 
 for it. 
 
 At the station in Germantown he lit his pipe, 
 and, soothed by its quieting influence, walked home- 
 ward to his house on Main Street. 
 
 He was rapidly coming to a state of easier mind, 
 under the effect of the meerschaum's subtle influ- 
 ence upon certain groups of ganglionic nerve cells 
 deep in his cerebrum, when, stumbling on the not 
 very perfect pavements of the suburban village, he 
 dropped his pipe, and had a shock of sudden misery 
 as he saw it by the moonlight in fragments ; a shock 
 which, as he reflected with amazement a moment 
 later, seemed to him nay, which was quite as 
 great as that caused by the death of his patient, an 
 hour before ! 
 
 He stood a moment, overcome with the calamity, 
 and then walked on slowly, with an abrupt sense of 
 disturbing horror at the feeling that the pipe's ma- 
 terial wholeness was to him, for a moment, as im- 
 portant as the young officer's life. The people who 
 live in a harem of sentiments are very apt to lose
 
 IN WAR TIME. 19 
 
 the wholesome sense of relation in life, so that in 
 their egotism small things become large, and as 
 often large things small. They are apt, as Wendell 
 was, to call to their aid and comfort whatever 
 power of casuistry they possess to support their 
 feelings, and thus by degrees habitually weaken 
 their sense of moral perspective. 
 
 It may seem a slight thing to dwell upon, but for 
 self-indulgent persons there is nothing valueless in 
 their personal belongings, and the train of reflec- 
 tion brought by this little accident was altogether 
 characteristic. Thrown back by this trifle into his 
 mood of gloom, he reached his own house, and saw 
 through the open windows his sister's quiet face 
 bent over her sewing-machine, which was humming 
 busily. 
 
 About two years before this date, Wendell and 
 his sister had left the little village on Cape Cod to 
 try their fortunes elsewhere. These two were the 
 last descendants of a long line of severely religious 
 divines, who had lived and preached at divers 
 places on the Cape. But at last one of them 
 Wendell's father became the teacher of a normal 
 school, and died in late middle life, leaving a few 
 thousand dollars to represent the commercial talent 
 of some generations of Yankees whose acuteness 
 had been directed chiefly into the thorny tracks of 
 biblical exegesis. His son, a shy, intellectual lad, 
 had shown promise at school, and only when came 
 the practical work of life exhibited those defects of 
 character whicl: had been of little moment so long
 
 20 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 as a good memory and mental activity were the sole 
 requisites. Persistent energy, sufficing to give the 
 daily supply of power needful for both the physical 
 and mental claims of any exacting profession, were 
 lacking. In a career at school or college it is pos- 
 sible to " catch up," but in the school of life there 
 are no examinations at set intervals, and success 
 is usually made up of the sum of happy uses of 
 multiplied fractional opportunities. His first fail- 
 
 ^ ure was as a teacher, one of the most self-deny- 
 ing of avocations. Then he studied medicine, and 
 was so carried away by the intellectual enthusiasm 
 it aroused iu him that could he have retired into 
 some quiet college nook, as a student of physiology 
 or pathology, he would probably have attained a 
 certain amount of reputation, because in such a 
 career irregular activity is less injurious. Want of 
 means, however, or want of will to endure for a 
 while some necessary privations, inclined him to 
 accept the every-day life and trials of a practicing 
 physician in the town where he was born. The 
 experiment failed. There was some want in the 
 young man which interfered with success at home, 
 so that the outbreak of the war found him ready, 
 as were many of his class, to welcome the chances 
 of active service as a doctor in the field. A rough 
 campaign in West Virginia resulted very soon in 
 
 . his suddenly quitting the army, and finding his way 
 to Philadelphia, where his sister joined him. She 
 readily accepted his excuse of ill health as a reason 
 for his leaving the service, and they finally decided
 
 IN WAR TIME. 21 
 
 to try their luck anew in the Quaker town. Miss 
 Wendell brought with her the few thousand dollars 
 which represented her father's life-long savings. 
 Yielding to her better judgment, the doctor found 
 a home in Germantown, within a few miles of Phil- 
 adelphia, as being cheaper than the city, and in the 
 little, long-drawn out town which Pastorius founded 
 they settled themselves, with the conviction on 
 Ann's part that now, at last, her brother's talents 
 would find a fitting sphere, and the appreciation 
 which ignorant prejudice had denied him elsewhere. 
 What more the severe, simple, energetic woman of 
 limited mind thought of her brother, we may leave 
 this, their life-tale, to tell. 
 
 The house they rented for but a moderate sum 
 was a rather large two-story building of rough gray 
 micaceous stone, with a front lit by four windows. 
 Over the door projected an old-fashioned pent- 
 house, and before it was what is known in Pennsyl- 
 vania as a stoop ; that is, a large, flat stone step, 
 with a bench on either side. Across the front of 
 the house an ivy had year by year spread its leaves, 
 until it hung in masses from the eaves, and mingled 
 on the hipped roof with the Virginia creeper and 
 the trumpet vine, which grew in the garden on one 
 side of the house, and, climbing to the gable, mot- 
 tled in October the darker green with crimson 
 patches. Behind the house a half acre of garden 
 was gay with tiger lilies, sunflowers, and holly- 
 hocks, with a bit of pasture farther back, for use, if 
 needed.
 
 22 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 The house had been, in the past, the dwelling of 
 a doctor, who had long ceased to practice, and to it 
 the sister and brother had brought the old furni- 
 ture from a home on Cape Cod, in which some gen- 
 erations of Puritan divines had lived, and in which 
 they had concocted numberless sermons of incon- 
 ceivable length. Notwithstanding his sister's eco- 
 nomic warnings, the doctor had added from time to 
 time, as his admirable taste directed, many books, 
 a few engravings, and such other small ornaments 
 as his intense love of color suggested. 
 
 As he now entered the sitting-room, the general 
 look of the place gave him, despite his mood, a 
 sense of tranquil pleasure. The high-backed, claw- 
 toed chairs, the tall, mahogany clock, with its cock 
 on top, seeming to welcome him with the same 
 quiet face which had watched him from childhood, 
 were pleasant to the troubled man ; and the fire- 
 place tiles, and the red curtains, and the bits of 
 Delft ware on the mantel were all so agreeable to 
 his sense of beauty in form and color that he threw 
 himself into a chair with some feeling of comfort. 
 His sister left her work, and, crossing the room, 
 kissed him. Evidently he was her chief venture 
 in life ! From long habit of dependent growth the 
 root fibres of his being were clasped about her, as 
 a tree holds fast for life and support to some iso- 
 lated rock, and neither he nor she was any more 
 conscious than the tree or rock of the economic 
 value which he took out of their relation. On his 
 part, it was a profound attachment, merely an
 
 IN WAR TIME. 23 
 
 attachment ; on hers a pure and simple, venerative 
 love. Women expect much from an idol and get 
 little, but believe they get everything ; and now and 
 then, even as to the best a woman can set up, she 
 has cankering doubts. 
 
 "Brother," said Miss Wendell, cheerfully, "I 
 was thinking, before you came in, how thankful we 
 should be for all our life, just now. You are get- 
 ting some practice," then observing his face, 
 " not all you will have, you know, but enough, with 
 the hospital, to let us live, oh, so pleasantly ! " 
 Patting his cheek tenderly, she added, " And best 
 of all for me, I feel that you are not worried, that 
 you are having a chance, at last." 
 
 " Yes, yes," he answered, " I know, I know I I 
 only hope it will continue." 
 
 " Why should it not ? By the time you cease to 
 to be an assistant surgeon I mean, when this 
 horrible war is over you will have a good hold, 
 on practice, and you will only have to love your 
 , books and microscope and botany a little less, and 
 study human beings more." 
 
 " I hardly know if they are worth the studying ! 
 But never mind me. I am cross to-night." 
 
 " Oh, no, that you are not. I won't have you say 
 that! You are tired, I dare say, and troubled 
 about all those poor fellows in the hospital." 
 
 Wendell moved uneasily. She was sitting on 
 the arm of his chair, and running her hand caress- 
 ingly through his hair, which was brown, and 
 broke into a wave of half curl around his forehead.
 
 24 AV WAR TIME. 
 
 Her consciousness as to much of her brother's 
 outer range of feelings was almost instinctive, al- 
 though, of course, it misled her often enough. 
 
 " I knew that was it," she said, with a loving 
 sense of appreciation. " I was sure it was that. 
 What has happened at the hospital ! I heard Dr. 
 Lagrange call you back. Oh, it was n't about be- 
 ing late and such a hot day, too ! " 
 
 " No, I was n't bothered about that. It was 
 about a sudden death, that happened just before I 
 left. You may remember that officer in the far 
 corner of the ward." 
 
 " What, that nice young fellow, a mere boy ! 
 Oh, Ezra," she added, after a pause, " I sometimes 
 thank God, in these war times that I am not a 
 mother ! Do you think it 's wrong to feel that 
 way, brother ? " 
 
 " Nonsense, Ann ! You might find enough to 
 annoy yourself about, besides that. When some 
 one comes for sister Ann you can begin to think 
 about the matter. What 's the use of settling 
 theoretical cases? There's quite enough of real 
 bother in life that one can't escape, and is forced 
 to reason about." 
 
 Ann arose, her eyes filling. " Yes," she said, 
 " yes I dare say," her thoughts for a moment far 
 off, recalling a time when, years before, she had 
 been obliged to decide whether she should give up 
 her life with her brother and father, and go to the 
 West to share the love and wealthier surroundings 
 of a man whose claim upon her was, she felt, an
 
 IN WAR TIME. 25 
 
 honest and loving one. Had he too been poor, and 
 had she been called by him to bear a life of strug- 
 gle, it is possible she might have yielded. As it 
 was, habitual affection and some vague sense of her 
 power to fill the wants of her brother's existence 
 made the woman's craving for self-sacrifice, as a 
 proof to herself of the quality of her love, sufficient 
 to decide her, and she had turned away gently, but 
 decisively, from a life of ease. Yet sometimes all 
 the lost loveliness of a mother's duties overwhelmed 
 her for a dreaming moment. " Yes," she said, at 
 last, " you are right. It 's always best to live in 
 the day that is with us. But what I wanted to say 
 was that you must not let such inevitable things as 
 a death no one could have prevented overcome you 
 so as to unsettle you and lessen your usefulness to 
 others." 
 
 " Oh, no, of course not ! " He felt annoyed : 
 this lad pursued him like a ghost. " Don't let us 
 talk of it any more," he said. " I broke my meer- 
 schaum, coming home." 
 
 " Oh, did you ? But I 'm very sorry, Ezra." 
 
 "Yes; it seemed like the death of an old 
 friend." 
 
 " Don't you think that is a great deal to say, 
 an old friend?" 
 
 "Not half enough." 
 
 She saw that he was annoyed, and, knowing well 
 the nature of the mood which possessed him, re- 
 turned. 
 
 "Ah, well, brother, we will buy another friend
 
 26 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 to-morrow, and age him as fast as possible. Bless 
 me, it is ten o'clock ! " and she began to move 
 about the room, and to put things in the usual neat 
 state in which she kept their sitting-room. The 
 books were rearranged, the bits of thread or paper 
 carefully picked up, a chair or two pushed back, a 
 crooked table cover drawn into place. 
 
 This was a small but regularly repeated torment 
 to Wendell. He did not dislike a neat parlor, 
 nay, would have felt the want of neatness ; but this 
 little bustle and stir at the calmest time of the 
 day disturbed him, while he knew that in this, as 
 in some other matters, Ann was immovable, so that 
 as a rule he had ceased to resist, as he usually did 
 cease to resist where the opposition was positive 
 and enduring. 
 
 This time, however, he exclaimed, " I do wish, 
 Ann, for once, you would go to bed quietly ! " 
 
 " Why, of course, you dear old boy ! I just 
 want to straighten things up a little, and then to 
 read to you a bit." 
 
 " I would like that. Read me Browning's Saul." 
 
 " Yes," she returned cheerfully, " that is always 
 good ; " and so read aloud with simple and earnest 
 pleasure that exquisite poem. 
 
 It soothed the man as the harp of the boy shep- 
 herd soothed the king. 
 
 " What noble verse ! " he said. " Read again, 
 Ann, that part beginning, ' And the joy of mere 
 living,' and humor the rhythm a little. I think it 
 is a mistake of most readers to affect to follow the
 
 IN WAR TIME. 27 
 
 sense so as to make a poem seem in the reading 
 like prose, as if the rhythm were not meant to be a 
 kind of musical accompaniment of exalted thought 
 and sentiment. How you hear the harp in it ! I 
 never knew anybody to speak of the pleasure a poet 
 must have in writing such verse as that. It must 
 sing to him as sweetly as to any one else, and more 
 freshly." 
 
 " Yes," said Ann. " I have seen somewhere 
 that everybody who writes verse thinks his own 
 delightful." 
 
 "No doubt, as every woman's last baby is the 
 most charming. But I should think that neither 
 motherhood nor paternity of verse could quite 
 make the critical faculty impossible. Shakespeare 
 must have been able to appreciate Hamlet duly." 
 
 " I don't know," said Ann. 
 
 Her brother often got quite above her in his 
 talk, and then she either gave up with a sort of 
 gasp, as the air into which he rose became too thin 
 for her intellectual lungs, or else she made more or 
 less successful effort to follow the flights, or at 
 least to deceive him into the belief that she did so. 
 
 Her brother was fond of Hamlet, which has 
 been, and always will be, the favorite riddle of 
 many thoughtful men. He liked to read it to her, 
 and to have it read to him. She had suddenly 
 now one of those brief inspirations which astonish 
 us at times in unanalytic people. She said, "I 
 sometimes think Hamlet was like you, a little 
 like you, brother ! "
 
 28 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Ezra looked up at his sister with amused sur- 
 prise. Human nature, he reflected to himself, is 
 inexhaustible, and we may rest sure that on Methu- 
 selah's nine hundred and sixty-ninth birthday he 
 might have startled his family by some novelty of 
 word or deed. 
 
 " I hardly know if it be a compliment," he said 
 aloud, with a little smile. "I should like to be 
 sure of what Hamlet's sister would have said of 
 him. Go to bed and think about it ! " 
 
 After Ann had left him, Wendell himself retired 
 to what was known as his office, a back room with 
 a southern outlook on the garden. Here were a few 
 medical books, two or three metaphysical treatises, 
 a mixture of others on the use of the microscope 
 and on botany, with odd volumes of the older and 
 less known dramatists, and a miscellaneous collec- 
 tion representing science and sentiment. On the 
 table was a small microscope, and a glass dish or 
 two, with minute water plants, making a nursery 
 for some of the lesser forms of animal and vegeta- 
 ble life. In a few minutes Wendell, absorbed, was 
 gazing into the microscope at the tiny dramas 
 t/ which the domestic life of a curious pseudopod 
 presented. He soon began to draw it with much 
 adroitness. It is possible for some men to pursue 
 every object, their duties and their pleasures, with 
 equal energy, nor is it always true that the Jack-of- 
 all-trades is master of none ; but it was true of this 
 man that, however well he did things, and he did 
 many things well, he did none with sufficient in-
 
 IN WAR TIME. 29 
 
 tensity of purpose, or with such steadiness of effort 
 as to win high success in any one of them. 
 
 It was nearly twelve o'clock when he was startled 
 by hearing his sister call, " Ezra, Ezra ! Do go to 
 bed. You will oversleep yourself in the morning." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know," he answered, quite accus- 
 tomed to her warning care. " Good night. I 
 won't sit up any later. It is all right." 
 
 Ann sighed, as she stood barefooted on the 
 stairs, and had she known Mr. Pickwick might 
 have shared his inward presentiment.
 
 m. 
 
 DB. WENDELL had very early acquired a few 
 patients in the widely scattered village. Most of 
 them were poor, and were either mechanics, or else 
 workmen attached to the many woolen mills in his 
 neighborhood. But as time went on he had also 
 attracted, by degrees, a few of a somewhat better 
 class. His manners were gentle and amiable, and 
 manners have a good deal to do with business suc- 
 cess in medicine, indeed sometimes insure a fair 
 amount of it even where their possessor has but a 
 moderate share of brains, since patients are rarely 
 competent critics as to all that ought to go to make 
 up a doctor, and in fact cannot be. 
 
 Meanwhile, his life was not a hard one. He 
 spent his early morning at the hospital, after see- 
 ing any urgent cases near his home ; and, return- 
 ing to Germantown for his midday meal, went 
 back to the hospital to make the afternoon visit. 
 
 The next day, after the events we have described, 
 as he came, on his usual evening round, to the beds 
 of Major Morton and Captain Gray, the Confeder- 
 ate officer, he was interested to see that his sister 
 had accomplished her errand, and was standing be- 
 side Morton, in company with a lady, and a tall and 
 handsome lad who might have been seventeen years
 
 IN WAR TIME. 31 
 
 of age or more. Glancing at the group, Wendell 
 went first to the wounded rebel, whose face bright- 
 ened visibly at the coming of the surgeon. 
 
 " I have been waiting to see you," he said. " I 
 don't think I am as well as I was. I feel the be- 
 ing shut up here. It 's such an awful change from 
 the saddle and the open air ! Please to sit down, 
 doctor, and don't be in a hurry. I must talk to you 
 a little. You doctors are always in such a hurry ! " 
 
 " It 's rather hard to help it," replied Wendell, 
 good-humoredly : " but is there anything especial I 
 can do for you ? " 
 
 " Yes. I want to know distinctly if I can pull 
 through. It 's a thing you doctors hate to be asked, 
 but still it is a question I would like to have an- 
 swered." 
 
 " I do not see why you cannot. You have a seri- 
 ous wound, but you were not hurt in any vital or- 
 gan. / should say you ought to get well." 
 
 " Well, it 's a pretty grim business with me, doc- 
 tor. I am alone in the world with one motherless 
 girl, and I want to get well ! I must get well ! " 
 
 " And so you will." 
 
 " No ; to tell you the truth, that 's my trouble. I 
 don't think I shall." 
 
 "Oh," exclaimed Wendell, "you may say you 
 don't feel as if you should ; but when you say you 
 don't think you will, I am afraid I feel inclined to 
 / laugh, which is perhaps very best thing I can do 
 for you. Is n't it as well to let me do the thinking 
 for you?"
 
 32 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 "I can't explain it," said Gray, dolefully, "but 
 the idea sticks in my head that I shall die." 
 
 "But why? Are you weaker? Do you suffer 
 more?" 
 
 " No ; I have nothing new except a queer sensa- 
 tion of confusion in my head, and then I can't 
 change my ideas at will. They stick like burrs, 
 and I can't get rid of them." 
 
 " Quinine, I guess," said Wendell, lightly. 
 
 " No ; I 've taken no end of that, in my time. 
 I know how that feels. Would you mind asking 
 Dr. Lagrange to see me?" 
 
 " Oh, of course not ; but it is a rule not to call 
 on the surgeon in charge unless there is some grave 
 necessity." 
 
 " Well, I don't want to violate any rules. You 
 are all very kind, and for a prisoner I ought to be 
 satisfied ; but I am sure that I am going to die." 
 
 "I do most honestly think you are needlessly 
 alarmed," Wendell replied ; " but if you wish it, I 
 will ask the doctor to look at you." 
 
 The assistant surgeon had a faint but distinct 
 impression that this wish implied a distrust of his 
 own judgment, and to one of his temperament this 
 was displeasing; yet knowing the request to be 
 not unreasonable, he at once sent an orderly for the 
 surgeon in charge, and saying, " I will see you with 
 Dr. Lagrange in a few minutes," turned to the 
 other bed. 
 
 Major Morton looked better ; his mustache was 
 trimmed, and the long Vandyke beard became well 
 his rather sombre face.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 33 
 
 " This is my wife," he said. " Dr. Wendell 
 Mrs. Morton," Mrs. Morton bowed across the 
 bed, " and my boy Arthur. They have just 
 come, doctor; and do not you think I could be 
 moved to a hotel to-day? " 
 
 " Well, hardly; but I will talk it over with Dr. 
 Lagrange, who will be here presently." 
 
 Busying himself in getting chairs brought for the 
 patient's friends, he glanced at them more atten- 
 tively, little dreaming what share in his future 
 the manly lad and his handsome, somewhat stately 
 mother were to have. Her perfectly simple man- 
 ners, touched with a certain coldness and calm 
 which made any little display of feeling in her 
 tones the more impressive, had their full effect on 
 Wendell. This type of woman was strange to him. 
 Her husband might have been full forty, and she 
 herself some three or four years his junior; but 
 she was yet in the vigor of womanhood, and moved 
 with the easy grace of one accustomed to the world. 
 Whatever were her relations to her husband, 
 and they had met, as Wendell learned afterwards 
 from his sister, without any marked effusion in 
 their greeting, for all other men, at least, she 
 had a certain attractiveness, difficult to analyze. 
 / The type was, as I have said, a novel one to 
 Wendell ; nor was he wrong in the feeling, which 
 came to him with better knowledge of her and 
 more accurate observation, that the satisfaction 
 which she gave him lay in a group of qualities which 
 beauty may emphasize, but which, like good wine,
 
 34 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 acquires more delicate and subtle flavors as years 
 goby. 
 
 "Mr. Morton seems better than I expected to 
 find him," she said, " and I know you must have 
 taken admirable care of him. With your help, I 
 am sure we could get him to a hotel ; and then in 
 a few days I might open our country house on the 
 Wissahickon, and we could easily carry him there, 
 easily, quite easily," she added, with a gentle 
 but emphatic gesture of shutting her fan. 
 
 Wendell had less doubt after she had spoken 
 than before. In fact, his intellectual judgment of 
 the case was unaltered ; but although his medical 
 opinions upon a disease, or a crisis of it, were apt, 
 like the action of the compass needle, to be correct, 
 they were as liable to causes of disturbance, and 
 were likely to become doubtful to their originator in 
 the face of positive opponent sentiments ; or even 
 of obstacles to their practical results which should 
 never have had any influence. Although uncon- 
 scious of it, he was in this manner quite fre- 
 quently controlled by his sister's tranquil decisive- 
 ness. Without knowing why he yielded, he began 
 now to edge over mentally to Mrs. Morton's side 
 of the argument. 
 
 He said, in reply to her, " Of course, if you have 
 a country house, that would make the change more 
 
 In fact, it seemed pleasantly natural to find a 
 ground of agreement with this woman, whose state- 
 liness made her courtesy yet more gracious. She
 
 IN WAR TIME. 35 
 
 herself did not, it is true, see very clearly the rea- 
 sonableness of his answer, but she was not appar- 
 ently surprised at his defection from his former 
 statement. 
 
 " We '11 settle it somehow," groaned the major. 
 " Do something ; get me out of this den, at least. 
 The rebels were a trifle to these flies ! " 
 
 "Of course, my dear," assented Mrs. Morton, 
 " I wanted to feel that Dr. Dr. you said " 
 
 " Wendell, Wendell is my name." 
 
 " Oh, yes, Dr. Wendell 1 I was thinking more 
 of the kind remark you had made than of your 
 name ! It is a good old New England surname, I 
 think. But before Dr. Lagrange comes, I want to 
 say how gratified I am to find that the decision to 
 which my own anxiety leads me should be justified 
 by your medical judgment." 
 
 Wendell was a little taken aback at this ready 
 assumption. As he looked up, hardly knowing 
 what answer to make, Dr. Lagrange came hastily 
 to join their group, and was met by Mrs. Morton, 
 with whom he was evidently on terms of easy ac- 
 quaintanceship . 
 
 " Dr. Wendell is, I think, rather inclined to be- 
 lieve that the major may be taken to a hotel, and 
 in a few days moved out to our country home. I 
 hope our doctors won't differ. What do you 
 think?" 
 
 " Ah, my lady," and the surgeon shook his finger 
 at her warningly, " you have changed many folks, 
 I mean, many men's ideas ; and I fancy you are
 
 36 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 keeping your hand in with my young friend. I 
 don't think that this morning, before you came, 
 when we discussed the question, Dr. Wendell was 
 then quite of your opinion." 
 
 Wendell exclaimed, " I did not at that time un- 
 derstand " 
 
 "Oh, I dare say not, and I don't blame you 
 much for taking Mrs. Morton's view. But practi- 
 cally, my good friends, Morton's leg must be taken 
 into account ! " 
 
 "Of course," replied Mrs. Morton, "that is the 
 first consideration, and really the only one." 
 
 "He has," urged Lagrange, "a rather serious 
 wound, and to-day a quick pulse and a little fever. 
 I would rather he waited a few days, two or 
 three, perhaps." Then Wendell spoke eagerly, 
 under his breath, a few words to his superior, on 
 which the latter continued, " Yes, that will do. In- 
 deed, I am very much obliged by your thoughtful- 
 ness for my friend. Dr. Wendell has," and he 
 turned to Mrs. Morton, " a room in the hospital, a 
 very good and airy room, which he wishes Major 
 Morton to occupy." 
 
 Wendell added, "It is no great sacrifice, as I 
 rarely use it at night; but in any case, Major 
 Morton is welcome to it." 
 
 The young fellow at Morton's side had been thus 
 far a listener. Now he exclaimed, warmly, " Thank 
 you very much, sir! It is a great kindness to give 
 to a stranger." 
 
 " For my part," said Mrs. Morton, " I have not 
 the courage to refuse."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 37 
 
 " I should think not ! " cried the major. " By 
 Jove, refuse ! " and he contributed his own share 
 of thanks, with a reasonable amount of emphasis. 
 Then he asked, " Are there nets in the windows ? " 
 
 "Yes," returned Wendell, a little amused. 
 
 "And is the room a good size?" 
 
 " Quite needlessly large for one," answered La- 
 grange, quickly, "and we are very full. Would 
 you mind sharing it with another officer ? It will 
 be only for a day or two." 
 
 Morton did not like the prospect, but saw at 
 once the need to yield. 
 
 " Of course," he replied, " if you are crowded ; 
 but I would rather," and he spoke low, "have my 
 rebel neighbor than some one I do not know at 
 all." 
 
 " But, dear," said Mrs. Morton, " I am sure that 
 when Dr. Lagrange considers it he will see that 
 you would be far more comfortable alone." 
 
 " I am afraid," returned Lagrange, " that I must 
 accept the major's proposition. And now I shall 
 run away, for fear you persuade me to change my 
 mind; and I shall take Wendell, lest you get him, 
 too, into some mischief. Come, doctor, let us see 
 Gray ! " He turned smiling to the rebel officer, 
 with whom he conversed attentively and patiently 
 for some time. Then he moved away with a cheer- 
 ful face from the bed, saying some pleasantly hope- 
 ful words of the comforts of the new room. But 
 as soon as he was out of earshot he spoke to his 
 junior, " Watch that man well. There is some-
 
 38 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 thing odd in his manner. He has a way of empha- 
 sizing all his words. Perhaps it is natural, but I 
 never like to hear a wounded man insist that he is 
 going to die ! And by the way, stick to your own 
 opinions, and don't let the pressure or notions of 
 lay folks push you off a path you meant to tread. 
 Mrs. Morton is what my old nurse used to call 
 'main masterful,' but I have found her, as you 
 may, a good friend. In fact, they are not very far- 
 away neighbors of yours. I will remember this 
 when they move Morton to the country." 
 
 Wendell thanked him. He felt that he himself 
 had done a gracious and serviceable act to pleasant 
 people. 
 
 " And what a fine lad that is, of Morton's ! " said 
 Lagrange. " I like his face." 
 
 "Yes; a nice boy, I should think," returned 
 Wendell. 
 
 When the two officers, the next morning, were 
 eagerly eating a well-cooked breakfast, in their new 
 and cheerful quarters, under the care of an orderly 
 assigned to them by Wendell, Morton, who was in 
 high good-humor, remarked, " By George, this is 
 better than that ward ! I feel like myself." 
 
 " It is certainly more comfortable," rejoined his 
 room-mate, "good coffee, fruit, I have n't seen 
 an orange before for a year, but I don't feel quite 
 right yet." 
 
 " Oh, you '11 come up," said Morton, who was 
 apt to relate the condition of others to his own 
 state.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 39 
 
 " I suppose so, I hope so ! But I don't feel 
 
 sure, and that strikes me as odd, because I have 
 
 been hit before, and never had the depression I now 
 
 ^ feel. Then that lad of yours made me think about 
 
 my own child." 
 
 "And where is he?" 
 
 " At school. It 's a girl. I did not tell you it 
 was a girl. She has been at school in Rahway. I 
 could not either get her away or send money to her, 
 and she and I are pretty much alone in the world. 
 By George, I don't suppose she would know me ! " 
 
 "Why not send for her?" suggested Morton, 
 whose enormous increase in comfort disposed him 
 to indulge his usual desire that everybody about 
 him should be satisfied, provided it did not incom- 
 mode Major Morton. " We '11 get that doctor of 
 ours to ask his sister to write and have the child 
 brought on to see you, and my wife can take care 
 of her for a few days." 
 
 " But I have absolutely no money ! " 
 
 On this point Morton was delightfully indiffer- 
 ent. He had always had money and what money 
 l/ buys, and just now, in the ennui of illness this man 
 interested him. 
 
 " I can lend you what you want. I '11 arrange 
 it." 
 
 " I do not know how I can thank you ! " 
 
 " Then don't do it." The major was languidly 
 good-natured, and had the amiability so common 
 among selfish people. A West Point man by ed- 
 ucation, he had served his two years on the plains,
 
 40 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 and then left the army, to return to it with eager- 
 ness, as it offered command, which he loved, and a 
 rescue, for a time at least, from the monotony of a 
 life without serious aim or ambition. 
 
 After some further talk about the girl, Morton 
 asked, " Where were you in that infernal row at 
 Gettysburg ? There 's no use in either of our 
 armies attacking the other. The fellows who try 
 it always get thrashed. I began to think we should 
 never be anything else but thrashed." 
 
 " I am sorry the charm is broken ! " said Gray. 
 " I was in the Third South Carolina, when we got 
 our quietus on the crest of Cemetery Hill. What 
 a scene that was ! I can see it now. I was twice 
 in among your people, and twice back among my 
 own ; but how, I can no more tell than fly. Once 
 I was knocked down with a stone. It was like a 
 devilish sort of Donnybrook fair." 
 
 " How were you hurt ? I was on the crest my- 
 self, and after I got this accursed ball in my leg I 
 lay there, and as I got a chance in the smoke I 
 cracked away with my revolver. I remember 
 thinking it queer that I never had struck a man in 
 anger since I grew up, and here I was in a mob of 
 blood-mad men, and in a frenzy to kill some one. 
 DroU, is n't it?" 
 
 " For my part," returned Gray, " I was as crazy 
 as the rest until I got a pistol ball in my right 
 shoulder. By George, perhaps you are the very 
 man who shot me ! " 
 
 "I am rather pleased to be able to say," re-
 
 IN WAR TIME. 41 
 
 sponded Morton, stiffly, " that I do not know whom 
 I shot." 
 
 " I should be very glad to think it was you." 
 
 " And why, please ? " 
 
 " Well, it would be a comfort to know it was a 
 gentleman." 
 
 The idea had in it nothing absurd to Morton. 
 He thought that perhaps he would have felt so him- 
 self, but he was pretty sure that he would not have 
 said so, and he answered with perfect tact : " For 
 any other reason, I should infinitely regret to think 
 it had been I ; and were it surely I, your pleasant 
 reason would not lessen the annoyance I should 
 feel ; " and then, laughing, " I will promise not to 
 do it any more." 
 
 At this moment Wendell came in, and, seeing 
 the flushed face of Captain Gray, said, 
 .- "I think I would n't talk much, and above all 
 don't discuss the war." 
 
 " Oh, confound the war, doctor ! " exclaimed 
 Morton. " It is only the editors who fight off of 
 battle fields. However, we promise to be good 
 boys!" 
 
 " I don't think our talk hurts me," said Gray. 
 " I was saying that perhaps the major might be the 
 man who shot me. Queer idea, was n't it ? And 
 what is more odd, it seems to keep going through 
 my head. What 's that Tennyson says about the 
 echo of a silent song that comes and goes a thou- 
 sand times ? " 
 (/" A brain echo ? " murmured WendeU. " I, for
 
 42 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 one, should n't think it very satisfactory to know 
 who shot me. I should only hate the man unrea- 
 sonably." 
 
 " But don't you think that it would be pleasanter 
 to know he was a gentleman ? " 
 
 To Wendell, with all his natural refinement, the 
 sentiment appeared inconceivably ludicrous, and, 
 laughing aloud, he rejoined, " I don't think I can 
 settle that question, but I hope you will quit talk- 
 ing. I will get you some books, if you like. Oh, 
 by the way, here are the papers ; " and so saying 
 he walked away, much amused, and in a mood of 
 analytic wonder at the state of mind and the form 
 of social education which could bring a man to 
 give utterance to so quaint an idea. 
 
 A moment later he returned to the bedside to 
 discuss a request of the major, who asked him to 
 write about Captain Gray's child. 
 
 " If you wish it," said Wendell, " I think my 
 sister might go to Railway." 
 
 " Oh, no," said Gray ; " that is quite too much 
 to ask." 
 
 " Then," suggested Morton, " as you are so kind, 
 could n't you take the little girl in for a few days, 
 doctor ? I that is to say, there will be no trouble 
 about the board." 
 
 " Certainly, if you wish it," answered the doctor. 
 "I am quite sure that my sister will not object. 
 Ann shall write at once. But is that all ? Can I 
 do anything else for you ? No ? Well, then, good- 
 night"
 
 IV. 
 
 AMONG the many permanent marks which the 
 great war left upon the life of the nation, and that 
 of its constituent genera of human atoms, none 
 were more deep and more alterative than those 
 with which it stamped the profession of medicine. 
 In all other lands medicine had places of trust and 
 even of power, in some way related to government; 
 but with us, save when some unfortunate physician 
 was abruptly called into public notice by a judi- 
 cial trial, and shared for a time with ward politi- 
 cians the temperate calm of newspaper statements, 
 he lived unnoted by the great public, and for all 
 the larger uses he should have had for the common- 
 wealth quite unemployed. The war changed the 
 relations of the profession to the state and to the 
 national life, and hardly less remarkably altered its 
 standards of what it should and must demand of it- 
 self in the future. Our great struggle found it, as 
 a calling, with little of the national regard. It 
 found it more or less humble, with reason enough 
 to be so. It left it with a pride justified by con- 
 duct which blazoned its scutcheon with endless sac- 
 rifices and great intellectual achievements, as well 
 as with a professional conscience educated by the 
 patient performance of every varied form of duty
 
 44 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 which the multiplied calls of a hard-pressed coun- 
 try could make upon its mental and moral life. 
 
 Vast hospitals were planned and admirably built, 
 without the advice of architects, by physicians, who 
 had to learn as they went along the special con- 
 structive needs of different climates, and to settle 
 novel and frequent hygienic questions as they arose. 
 In and near the locality of my tale, the hospitals 
 numbered twenty-five thousand beds for the sick 
 and wounded ; and these huge villages, now drawn 
 on by the war, now refilled by its constant strife, 
 were managed with a skill which justified the 
 American test of hotel-keeping as a gauge of abil- 
 ity. A surgeon taken abruptly from civil life, a 
 country physician, a retired naval surgeon, were 
 fair specimens of the class on which fell these enor- 
 mous responsibilities. We may well look back 
 with gratification and wonder at the exactness, the 
 discipline, the comfort, which reigned in most of 
 these vast institutions. 
 
 In this evolution of hitherto unused capacities, 
 Dr. Wendell shared. In some ways it did him 
 good service, and in others it was harmful. The 
 definiteness of hospital duty was for a man so un- 
 energetic of great value. He was a wheel in a 
 great piece of mechanism, and had to move with 
 the rest of it. In time this might have substantially 
 altered his habits ; but in a hospital there are, as 
 elsewhere, opportunities for self-indulgence ; indeed, 
 more in a military hospital than elsewhere, since 
 there the doctor lacks largely the private criticism
 
 72V WAR TIME. 45 
 
 and the demands of influential patients, which in a 
 measure help to keep men alert in mind, thought- 
 ful, and accurate. Moreover, the rush and hurry of 
 the wholesale practice of medicine, inseparable from 
 overflowing military hospitals, was hostile to the 
 calm study of cases, and to the increasing exactions 
 which new and accurate methods of diagnosis and 
 treatment were then, and are now, making. On 
 the whole, the effect on Wendell was bad. He did 
 his work, and, as he was intelligent, often did it 
 well ; but his medical conscience, overweighted by 
 the need for incessant wakefulness, and enfeebled 
 by natural love of ease and of mere intellectual 
 luxuries, suffered from the life he led, and carried 
 into his after days more or less of the resultant 
 evil. Happily for his peace of mind, as for that of 
 many doctors, no keen critic followed him, or could 
 follow him, through the little errors of unthought- 
 ful work, often great in result, which grew as he 
 continued to do his slipshod tasks. Like all men 
 who practice that which is part art, part science, 
 he lived in a world of possible, and I may say of 
 reasonable, excuses for failures ; and no man knew 
 better than he how to use his intellect to apologize 
 to himself for lack of strict obedience to the moral 
 code by which his profession justly tests the charac- 
 ter of its own labor. 
 
 When Wendell reported for duty, on the follow- 
 ing day, and had signed, as usual, the roll which 
 indicated that he was present at a set hour, he was 
 told that the surgeon in charge desired to see him ;
 
 46 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 and accordingly he stopped in the little room which 
 that officer reserved for his own personal needs. 
 As Wendell paused in front of the table, Dr. La- 
 grange looked up, and putting aside his pen said, 
 
 " Good-morning. I have endeavored, Dr. Wen- 
 dell, not to forget that the gentlemen on duty here 
 have not all of them had the advantage of army 
 life, but there are certain matters which, if not 
 of first importance, have their value, and which I 
 cannot overlook. I observe that you do not always 
 wear an assistant surgeon's uniform, and that last 
 week, when officer of the day, you wore no sash. 
 Pardon me, I am not quite through. Twice, of 
 late, you have signed your name as present at the 
 hour of the morning visit, when in one case it was 
 ten minutes after, and in another eleven minutes 
 after." 
 
 " I did not think, sir, it could make any differ- 
 ence." 
 
 " That, sir, I must look upon as a criticism of a 
 superior's opinion. If I did not, as surgeon in 
 charge, consider it of moment, I should not have 
 spoken ; but, and with your permission, I now 
 speak only as an older man, and one, as you know, 
 who is disposed to like and help you." 
 
 " Of course, I shall be very much obliged," Wen- 
 dell said. It must be added that he did not feel 
 so. He inferred that, as he had a better intellect- 
 ual machinery and much wider knowledge than 
 -/ the superior officer, he must - be naturally elevated 
 above the judgments of such a person.
 
 72V WAR TIME. 47 
 
 " It is not," continued Lagrange, " the want of 
 punctuality to which I now refer, that is an 
 official matter. It is that you should shelter your- 
 self under a false statement, however minutely 
 false." 
 
 Dr. Wendell began with irritation: "I do not 
 think any one could suspect me could suspect 
 me of that ! " 
 
 " Then," replied Lagrange, " you were not aware 
 of the hour ? I hope I don't annoy you. I like 
 you too well to do so without cause, and, as I said, 
 I am conscious that I am putting the matter in an 
 unofficial shape." 
 
 Wendell bowed, and, having reflected a little, 
 said, " Thank you, sir. Pray speak freely. I can 
 only be grateful for whatever you think fit to say." 
 
 "Well, then," added Lagrange, "let me go a 
 step further. Try to be more accurate in your 
 work, and may I say it ? a little more ener- 
 getic, just r little," and the old army surgeon smil- 
 ingly put out his hand. " Don't spoil my predic- 
 ^/fcions of success for you in life ! You have better 
 brains than I ever had, but " 
 
 " Oh, sir ! " exclaimed Wendell, touched with 
 the other's want of egotism. 
 
 " Yes, yes," went on Lagrange, laughing ; " but 
 I should beat you at most things, notwithstanding. 
 There you won't misunderstand me, I am sure," 
 he added, with a gentle sweetness, which like most 
 bits of good manners was alike pleasant and con- 
 tagious.
 
 48 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 The younger man returned, " You are very good 
 to me. I shall try to remember." 
 
 " Well, well," said Lagrange ; and then, in his 
 official tones, " Have you seen Major Morton ? " 
 
 " Not yet, sir. I have just come." 
 
 " True of course ; but that other man, 
 what 's his name, the rebel ? " 
 
 " Gray, sir. He is in a curious way. I think 
 his head must be wrong. He insists that Major 
 Morton shot him." 
 
 " That is strange," returned the surgeon ; " very 
 unusual, in fact. Some accident sets an idea in a 
 man's head, and there it stays. I have heard of 
 such cases. I would like to separate them at once, 
 but we have not a vacant bed. See him as soon as 
 
 When Wendell left Lagrange's room he went 
 immediately to visit Gray. The door was open, 
 to secure a cool draught of air ; and hearing the 
 rebel officer speaking, the assistant surgeon paused 
 a moment to listen. The voice he heard was de- 
 cided, irritated, and a little loud : 
 
 " I think I remember now ; yes, sir, you were on 
 the ground. I saw you shoot, and I don't blame 
 you!" 
 
 " Good heavens, you could n't have seen me ! By 
 George, I never heard anything so absurd ! Have 
 the goodness not to repeat it." 
 
 " You doubt my word, then, sir ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, what stuff ! " 
 
 " Then apologize, sir. I say, apologize ! "
 
 IN WAR TIME. 49 
 
 "Pshaw!" 
 
 At this moment Wendell entered. 
 
 " Captain Gray," he said, " this won't do ! You 
 have forgotten your promise about talking. Come, 
 put this thermometer under your tongue," and with 
 a finger on his pulse Wendell waited patiently a 
 few minutes. " Hum," he said to himself, not lik- 
 ing the results of his observation. Then he asked 
 a few questions, and wrote a prescription, which 
 meant decided and immediate treatment. 
 
 " Am I ill ? " said the captain. 
 
 " You are ill enough to keep quiet." 
 
 " But he did shoot me." 
 
 " Nonsense ! You are feverish, and your head is 
 out of order." 
 
 " But he shot me ! I say, he shot me ! " 
 
 "Oh, confound it!" growled Morton. "Sup- 
 pose I did?" 
 
 " There, I knew it," exclaimed Gray, " I knew 
 it, sir ! He says so." 
 
 " I said no such thing ! Doctor, may I trouble 
 you a moment ? " As Wendell approached his 
 bed, he added, "I cannot stand this any longer. 
 Make some arrangements for me to leave as soon 
 as Mrs. Morton comes back. That will be in an 
 hour. At any risk, at all risks, I must be carried 
 to my own home in the country. Perhaps I did 
 shoot him : who the devil knows or cares ! " And 
 as, in his annoyance, his voice rose sufficiently to 
 be heard by Gray, the latter broke in anew : 
 
 "Well, sir, I am glad you admit it. And my
 
 60 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 little girl, who is to take care of her? I say," 
 he repeated sharply, " who is to take care of her? 
 Not this man." 
 
 " Oh, she will be looked after," responded "Wen- 
 dell kindly, desiring to soothe the patient, whose 
 diseased fancies were evidently hurting both him- 
 self and his neighbor. " Ah, here comes my sister ! 
 Ann, let me speak to you a moment ; " and so say- 
 ing, he led her out of the room, and explained to 
 
 r that Captain Gray was very ill and delirious, 
 and that it would be necessary to separate him 
 from Major Morton. 
 
 Ann Wendell at once reentered the room, took 
 her seat at the bedside, and sat fanning the poor 
 fellow, while her brother left them to attend to 
 other duties. Mrs. Morton arrived soon after ; and 
 as Lagrange agreed with his subordinate that it 
 would now be best to move her husband, the proper 
 arrangements were soon completed. 
 
 As the major was being carried out of the room, 
 he said, " Captain Gray, I hope you will soon get 
 well ; and meanwhile, whatever we can do for you 
 is at your service." 
 
 " I sha'n't get well," returned Gray. " I am go- 
 ing to die, to die, and my death is on your head ! " 
 
 Morton made no reply. 
 
 " Don't mind him," the young surgeon whispered 
 quietly to Mrs. Morton, who had turned, with a 
 startled air, " don't mind him ; he is raving." 
 
 " Poor fellow," she murmured softly. 
 
 "I don't blame him," cried Gray, in a high
 
 IN WAR TIME. 51 
 
 shrill voice, "but he did it. And oh, my little 
 one, my little one ! Friendless, friendless ! " and 
 he sank back, faint and exhausted, upon the pillow, 
 from which he had risen with an effort of frenzied 
 strength. 
 
 "You won't forget to call to-night?" said Mrs. 
 Morton to Wendell. " What a strange delusion ! 
 What a painful scene ! " Then the nurses carried 
 her husband out of the room and down -stairs to 
 the ambulance, while Ann Wendell, disturbed and 
 pitiful, sat fanning the fevered man who remained. 
 As she looked at him, his face struck her painfully. 
 It was thin and drawn, beaded with sweat, and 
 deeply flushed. 
 
 " When will my child come ? " he asked. 
 
 " To-morrow. I have had a telegram, and I will 
 bring her here at once. Yes, I will bring her ; now 
 don't talk. We will take care of her until some of 
 her relatives are heard from, or she can return to 
 school, till you are well and exchanged." 
 
 " You promise me ? " 
 
 "Yes, I promise," Ann replied, hardly knowing 
 what to say. 
 
 " And that man, he could n't help it ! That 's 
 war, that 's war ! He shot me, you know. He 
 says so. I saw him. You won't let them have my 
 child, will you, now, will you ? " 
 
 Ann had a pretty clear idea that nothing was 
 less likely than that the stately dame, who overawed 
 her with easy graciousness, would desire to assume 
 charge of the little waif.
 
 52 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " Make yourself easy. God will provide." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I know, of course ; but you will 
 take care yes you will ? " 
 
 " I will," said Ann, hardly clear as to what she 
 was pledging herself to do, but feeling sure that 
 she must say yes to whatever he asked, and that 
 she was not given time to reflect as to what she 
 ought to do. 
 
 " All right," moaned Gray. " Turn this pillow, 
 please. Lord, how wretched I feel ! " 
 
 Ann did as he desired. She had a strong feel- 
 ing that she ought to say something to relieve him : 
 "You must not say Major Morton shot you. How 
 could you know that ? You must have made him 
 feel horribly. I would n't say it if I were you ! " 
 
 " But," cried Gray, seizing her wrist, " I know 
 it, and before you came he said it! He acknowl- 
 edged he shot me ! What was that you said about 
 to-morrow? To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to- 
 morrow ! Stop, excuse me, Mistress Wendell, 
 I am not at all clear in my head ; but let him say 
 what he likes, he shot me ! Remember that, he 
 shot me ! " 
 
 Miss Wendell was deeply distressed. She could 
 not appreciate the state of mental disturbance 
 which possessed the man, and to her inexperience it 
 seemed at once improbable and yet possible that he 
 could have been sure of the hand which had smitten 
 him. It all left her with one of those vague but 
 lasting mental impressions which may wear out 
 with time, or be deepened by future circumstance,
 
 IN WAR TIME. 53 
 
 and which are, as it were, memorial ghosts that 
 trouble us despite our unbeliefs in their reality. 
 For the present she put it aside ; but in her simple 
 life it was a great and strange event, never pleas- 
 ant to think or talk of. She stayed with Gray till 
 it was quite late, and then went home with her 
 brother, promising to return the next afternoon, 
 when she hoped to be able to bring the little girl. 
 
 The following day she busied herself, as usual, 
 about the household and among the flowers in her 
 little garden, until the hour came to meet the train, 
 which was, little as she then guessed it, to bring 
 v/rnto her life new cares and fresh anxieties. It was 
 close to the late twilight of summer when she stood 
 waiting at the station. Her life had been, as I 
 have said, simple. Her nature and her creed alike 
 taught her to be eternally willing to do for others 
 acts of kindness ; indeed, to be ever ready, for these 
 had grown to be habitual, and excited in her mind 
 no comment whatsoever ; so that in this sense 
 virtue was its own reward, in that it made each 
 new act of virtue easier, and so kept calm a con- 
 science which was only too apt with rebuke. She 
 now stood silently watching the crowd of soldiers 
 going to the front, of officers in varied uniforms, 
 all the eager, hurried travel of ever anxious men 
 and women moving southward. At last she saw a 
 conductor coming toward her, and guessed at once 
 that the girl at his side was the child for whom she 
 had come. 
 
 " I am Miss Wendell, and I am here to meet a 
 child named Gray."
 
 54 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " Yes," the conductor replied, " that is all right. 
 I was to turn her over to Miss Wendell. Here is 
 the check for her trunk. Good-by, Missy ! " and 
 so saying he dropped the child's hand and walked 
 away. The girl looked after him with a sense of 
 desertion, and then turned and faced Ann Wendell, 
 silent with the shy, speechless uneasiness of girl- 
 hood. 
 
 "You are Hester Gray?" said Miss Wendell. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am. Where is my father?" 
 
 " You shall see him soon. Come, my dear, you 
 must be tired ; we won't talk now ; " and so, hav- 
 ing arranged for her trunk to be sent to German- 
 town, Ann got into a street car with her charge, 
 and set out for the hospital. 
 
 Ann was acutely observant of but one person in 
 her small world the brother whose life had be- 
 come one with her own ; and she therefore troubled 
 herself but little about the child at her side, save 
 to say now and then a kind word, or to notice that 
 the dress of brown holland, though clean and neat, 
 showed signs of over use. 
 
 The girl was perhaps fifteen years old, but looked 
 singularly childlike for her age. She had been sent 
 four years before, when her mother died, to a school 
 in New Jersey, where, save for one brief visit from 
 her father before the war broke out, she had had 
 the usual school life among a large number of 
 girls, to whom was applied alike a common system, 
 ^ which admitted of no recognition of individualities, 
 But this little existence, now sent adrift from its
 
 IN WAR TIME. 55 
 
 monotonous colony of fellow polyps to float away 
 and develop under novel circumstances, was a very 
 distinct and positive individual being. She sat be- 
 side Ann Wendell, stealing quick glances at her, 
 at her fellow-passengers, and at the houses and 
 buildings they were passing; not reasoning about 
 them, but simply making up the child's little treas- 
 ury of automatically gathered memories, and feel- 
 ing, without knowing that she felt it, the kindliness 
 and quiet incuriousness of the woman beside her. 
 Then, seeing a man drop a letter into a postal box 
 in the street, she suddenly remembered herself, and 
 flushing said, 
 
 " I have a letter to give. If father is too sick, I 
 am to give it to some one." 
 
 " I will take it," said Ann, and the child pres- 
 ently extracted a letter, which the careful school- 
 mistress had pinned fast in her pocket. It was 
 addressed to "Charles Gray, Esq." "I will take 
 care of it, my little woman." 
 
 The child made some vague reflections on 
 her being called a little woman, and the train of 
 thought, brief as are always the speculations of 
 childhood, ended at the door of the great brick 
 hospital. Then they walked through the lounging 
 s/crowd of invalids about the portal, past the sen- 
 tinel, and up the stairs, until Ann knocked softly 
 at the sick man's door. It was opened by a nurse, 
 who said in a low voice that they were to wait a 
 minute, until he sent for the doctor. While they 
 lingered, Ann heard the deep, snoring respiration
 
 56 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 of the man within, and tightened her grasp on the 
 child's hand, knowing only too well what the sound 
 meant. A moment later Wendell appeared with 
 the surgeon-in-charge. The two men said a few 
 words apart, and then the elder took the child's 
 hand, and sitting down on the staircase drew her 
 toward him. 
 
 " What is your name, my dear ? " 
 
 " Hester, Hester Gray." 
 
 " How long since you saw your father ? " 
 
 " Ever so long, sir. I don't remember." 
 
 " Well, you know when people are sick they do 
 
 not look as they do when they are well, and your 
 
 father, Hester, is very sick ; so if he is too sick to 
 
 /know you are his own little girl, you must n't be 
 
 afraid, will you?" 
 
 " No sir, I will try not to be." 
 
 " And don't cry," he added, as he saw the large 
 blue eyes filling. Then he took her tenderly by 
 the hand, and saying cheerily, " Now come along ; 
 we will go and see papa," he led her into the room, 
 followed by Ann and her brother. When Ann 
 saw the dying man's face, she turned, and whispered 
 to Wendell, 
 
 "Oh, I wouldn't have done it at all! Why 
 should she see him ? " 
 
 Wendell made no answer. He was himself won- 
 dering why this tender little life should be forced 
 I/ into rude acquaintance with death. The surgeon 
 knew better ; knew full well, with the wisdom of 
 many deaths, what a softened sweetness this grim
 
 IN WAR TIME. 57 
 
 memory would grow to have, in years to come, 
 what a blank in the life of love its absence might 
 come to be. 
 
 Charles Gray was lost even now to the world of 
 loves and hates. Gaunt with past suffering, his 
 cheeks flushed with moving spaces of intense pur- 
 plish-red, he lay on his back. His eyes, wide 
 open, stared up at the ceiling between moveless 
 lids, while the irregularly heaving chest and the 
 dilating nostrils told of the closing struggle for the 
 breath which is life. Ann wiped from his brow 
 the sweat which marks the earning of death as of 
 bread, the sign of all great physical effort, 
 and said in a rising voice, 
 
 " Here is Hester, Captain Gray ! Captain Gray, 
 this is Hester ! Don't you know her ? Your Hes- 
 ter." 
 
 He made no sign in reply. Nature had not 
 waited for man to supply her anaesthetics, and the 
 disturbed chemistries of failing life were flooding 
 nerve and brain with potent sedatives. 
 
 " Too late ! " murmured Wendell. 
 
 A slight convulsion passed over the features of 
 the dying man. The child looked up in curious 
 amazement. Her little life gave her no true key to 
 the sorrow of the scene. 
 
 " Kiss him," said Ann ; " speak to him, Hester. 
 Perhaps he will know you." 
 
 The child touched his forehead, recoiled a second 
 from the chill, sweating brow, and then kissed it 
 again and again.
 
 58 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " Speak to him, Hester, try," repeated Ann. 
 
 "Father father! " cried the child. 
 
 " A little water," said the surgeon-in-chief , know- 
 ing that to swallow sometimes for a moment awak- 
 ens the slumbering consciousness. 
 
 The dying man struggled with the spoonful of 
 fluid, then swallowed it abruptly, and moved his 
 lips. 
 
 " Does he say anything ? " said Wendell. 
 
 Ann bent down, and again wiped his face. This 
 time he murmured something, and Ann rose in- 
 stantly, with a pale face. 
 
 " He does n't know any one," she said. " Come, 
 my child, kiss him again, and we will go out for a 
 while." 
 
 What Ann had heard were broken words, sent 
 back to her alone through the closing doors which 
 opened to one world and shut out another : " Shot 
 shot he shot me ! " 
 
 "Come," she repeated to the dazed and trem- 
 bling girl, " the surgeons must be with him alone, 
 dear." 
 
 Hester obeyed without a word, crying, she hardly 
 knew why ; for tears are the large resource of nature 
 in most of the incidents that startle or perplex the 
 emotional years of childhood ; and to be truthful, 
 there was more of terror than of grief in the scene 
 for a child to whom years of absence and silence 
 had made all memories of home and father some- 
 what hazy and indistinct. 
 
 " I will take her away with me at once," said
 
 IN WAR TIME. 59 
 
 Ann to Dr. Lagrange. "It will be no good for 
 her to see him again." 
 
 " You will do the kindest thing for her, I think," 
 he answered ; and with this, hand in hand with the 
 child, who pressed close to her side, Ann went out 
 into the street, thoughtful and dismayed. She had 
 seen hundreds of wounded men, in her constant 
 hospital visits, but no one knew who had hurt 
 them ; so that in her eyes this single definite fact 
 of individual war seemed like murder. The whole 
 matter of war, indeed, was horrible to Ann. She 
 somehow saw God in its larger results, but not in 
 its tragedies. How could God mean one man to 
 slay another ! There, it is true, were the Amalek- 
 ites and the Jebusites ; but as to them, the command 
 to destroy had been sufficiently distinct. Still, this 
 present war was a just war, in Ann's eyes, and her 
 brother had no doubts at all, which was sometimes 
 a comfort to her, and would have been a larger one 
 had Wendell shared her own religious creed, which 
 he certainly did not, being vaguely inclined at 
 times to a half acceptance of the mysticism of 
 Swedenborg. His belief in the competency of his 
 own intellect made it necessary for him to possess 
 some views on matters of religious beliefs, but so 
 far he had never got much beyond the easy goal 
 of destructive criticism. 
 
 When the two doctors began to descend the stairs 
 from the dying man's room, the elder said, " Mrs. 
 Morton has written to me to say that she will be 
 glad to meet any expense you may be put to about 
 this child."
 
 60 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " She is a kind and generous woman, I should 
 think," replied Wendell. 
 
 " Well, yes, in a cool, quiet way she is. I like 
 her myself, and you will find, if you don't cross 
 her views, that she will be a good friend. But that 
 is her trouble. She respects none but manly, reso- 
 lute men, and yet she dearly loves her own way. 
 Money is a very little thing to her, and to Morton 
 ~-y also. What a rapid case of pyaemia ! I wish one 
 understood it better, or that somebody could take 
 it up and work at it. We have plenty of material. 
 Why could not you try your hand ? " 
 
 " I have been thinking of it," said Wendell. 
 
 In fact, he was always planning some valuable 
 research, but was never energetic enough to over- 
 come the incessant obstacles which make research 
 so difficult. 
 
 " We will talk it over," said Dr. Lagrange. 
 " What do you think of Jones, in Number Five ? 
 v/ He seems to me a malingerer, and a poor actor at 
 that." 
 
 And so the talk went from the frequent tragedy 
 of death to its causes, and thence to the hospital 
 work and discipline ; the scamps who were feigning 
 v/ illness ; and who were well enough to go to the 
 front, who must be discharged, who be turned over 
 to the provost marshal. 
 
 The contrasts in a doctor's life are always strik- 
 ing, and never more so than in the splendid and 
 terrible years of our great war, which added a long 
 list of novel duties and a training foreign to his
 
 IN WAR TIME. 61 
 
 ordinary existence. These two men, coming from 
 the every-day calamity of a death-bed, instantly set 
 aside the emotions and impressions, which no repe- 
 tition ever quite destroys for the most callous doc- 
 tor, and began to discuss the scientific aspects of 
 the disease with which they had been so vainly 
 I battling. They both felt more or less the sense of 
 defeat which waits for the physician as he leaves 
 the room of the dying, a keener discomfort than 
 the unthinking public can well imagine ; but both 
 were able to lose it in their interest in that which 
 caused it.
 
 Y. 
 
 SEVERAL days had elapsed since the rebel cap- 
 tain lay dying in the hospital. He had been buried 
 quietly, with but two mourners, Miss Wendell and 
 his child, and the world of events had gone by and 
 left him. The child remained for the present at 
 Dr. Wendell's ; and now it was night in his house, 
 and Hester was safe in bed in Ann's room, while 
 the brother and sister sat in the little library. The 
 last few days had been full of unusual incidents, 
 which were to be more fertile in consequences than 
 they could guess ; and the woman had been busy, 
 and the man, for once, hard-worked. The hospital 
 was full to overflowing, and the largest affair in his 
 life as a physician had come to him in the shape of 
 a request to take charge of Major Morton, whose 
 country home lay within a mile or two of the doc- 
 tor's house. Altogether Wendell was pleased and 
 busy. The new call flattered and interested him, 
 and was professionally a distinct lift. Ann herself 
 regarded the matter as proof of her brother's fit- 
 ness, and, in her calm New England way, as a sub- 
 stantial gain, to be dealt with as a new duty, and 
 used as a means to get on honestly. For Wendell 
 it was more complicated. He felt, or believed him- 
 self, equal to any medical call upon his intelligence,
 
 IN WAR TIME. 63 
 
 a feeling common enough among younger men, 
 and apt to fade as years go on. But, besides all 
 this, it had for him another value, which would have 
 amazed his sister, could she have known it. He 
 was naturally a refined and also a very sensitive 
 man, cultivated, not deeply, but over much surface, 
 and he felt the want of such appreciative and re- 
 sponsive companionship as makes talk about certain 
 things possible. He liked sympathy, and, as is 
 common with such natures, women pleased him 
 more than men ; nor, indeed, was he well fitted, on 
 account of his self-regard and his girl-like tender- 
 ness, to contract strong and virile attachments to 
 men. In the Morton household and its surround- 
 ing circles of friends and relatives, he felt himself 
 in an air which he breathed, if not at once with 
 ease, certainly with pleasure. The poor whom he 
 attended he did not like, because their houses were 
 often uncleanly and their ways rough. Indeed, he 
 disliked all that belonged to poverty, as he did 
 other unpleasing things. He saw this class of pa- 
 tients knowing that he must, but made brief visits, 
 and found true interest impossible where his senses 
 and taste were steadily in revolt. 
 
 Perhaps as a doctor of the rich alone he might 
 have done better. It seems probable that he should 
 never have been a doctor at all. 
 
 What he had felt when he first saw Mrs. Mor- 
 ton he felt more and more as he came to be socially 
 at ease in her circle. The quiet ways, the calm 
 readiness for all social accidents, and the habitual
 
 64 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 automatic attention to the wants and feelings and 
 even the prejudices of others struck him as com- 
 fortable ; and without distinct analysis of the cause, 
 he came to recognize that he was thrown among 
 people who, for some reason, were acceptable to 
 him, and among whom it would be very agreeable 
 to pursue his profession. Had he heard the con- 
 versation which led finally to his being asked to 
 see Major Morton, he would have been less satis- 
 fied; but perhaps, could we hear all that is said 
 behind our backs, existence would be nearly im- 
 possible except for the few, who would then make 
 what was left of it intolerable. 
 
 Mrs. Morton had said a few words to Dr. Wen- 
 dell as to her desire that he should see her husband 
 at his country home ; but she had by no means 
 looked on this as a finality, and indeed did not 
 decide the matter until, in prospect of the major's 
 removal, she had a further talk with her old ac- 
 quaintance, Dr. Lagrange. 
 
 She saw him at the hospital, and was accompa- 
 ^/ nied by a friend, who was a somewhat inconstant 
 companion, but who generally came usefully to the 
 front, as was said in war slang, when no one ex- 
 pected to see her, or when there was some real need 
 for her presence ; " not," as she remarked, " that I 
 am of the slightest value, my dear, but one's friends 
 become so interesting when they are in trouble." 
 
 Mrs. Morton drove with Mrs. Westerley to the 
 hospital ; and when the second lady's pleasant face 
 appeared at the window of her friend's light Ger-
 
 IN WAR TIME. 65 
 
 mantown wagon, with its well-matched pair of 
 Morgans, three men in uniform, lounging at the 
 gate, rushed forward in a competitive effort to open 
 the carriage door, and to anticipate the tardy de- 
 scent of the footman. 
 
 " Do you go at all to the hospitals ? " said Mrs. 
 Westerley, as they entered the doorway. " I have 
 been absent so much that I have scarcely seen you 
 this summer, and I have n't caught up to your pres- 
 ent ways." 
 
 " No," said Mrs. Morton, " the Sanitary is all I 
 can attend to ; and what with Mrs. Grace and one 
 or two other obstructives, it promises to be more 
 than any one person ought to be called upon to 
 manage. As long as it meant havelocks and 
 tooth-brushes and pocket-handkerchiefs, it was 
 dolls' play ; but now it is very serious business, as 
 you know, dear." 
 
 "For my part, I like the hospital work best. 
 But I never was here before. How neat it is ! 
 What clever housekeepers these men make ! They 
 told me at Chestnut Hill hospital that they made 
 quite a good income out of the egg-shells and coffee- 
 grounds." 
 
 At this moment an orderly approached, touched 
 his cap, and asked if they would wait in the sur- 
 geon's office. Dr. Lagrange would be at leisure in 
 a few minutes. 
 
 " Might we stand at the ward door and hear the 
 band ? " said Mrs. Westerley. 
 
 " Of course, ma'am," replied the orderly. " The
 
 66 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Burgeon's visit is over." Accordingly they lingered, 
 looking across the vast ward, once an armory drill- 
 room, while from the lower floor the strains of one 
 well-known air after another floated upward, and 
 in far corners here and there roused memorial 
 echoes in bosoms weary of war and camps. Even- 
 ing band play was always a cheerful interruption 
 of the grim monotony of sick life, and when, pres- 
 ently, with the neutral disregard of the raging con- 
 test far away found in hospitals, the band struck 
 up "Maryland, My Maryland," the rebel wounded 
 roused themselves, and some bluecoat cried out 
 cheerfully to a graycoat near by, " Good for you, 
 Johnny Reb ! " " Ah," said Alice Westerley, " if 
 we women kept hospitals, there would be no rebel 
 music, my dear. We are too good haters." 
 
 "And there should be none," returned Mrs. 
 Morton, gravely. 
 
 " I thought as much," said her companion. " But 
 surely it is well. Perhaps we had better not wait 
 any longer. How peaceful it is ! I could stay an 
 hour." 
 
 Then they turned away, followed by pleased 
 glances from beds near by, and were presently 
 standing in the surgeon's official waiting-room, the 
 furnishings of which amused Mrs. Westerley im- 
 mensely, as in fact few things failed to interest her, 
 from an animal to a man. 
 
 "What is this?" she asked. "It looks like a 
 diagram of a crab. Bless me, it is the plan of the 
 Stump hospital ! What in the world, Helen Mor-
 
 IN WAR TIME. 67 
 
 ton, is a Stump hospital? And here do come 
 here ! This is a diet table. * Ordinary diet,' ' Ex- 
 tra diet,' * Number four diet ! ' I think I shall in- 
 troduce the system at home. And did you ever 
 see such neatness ? Look at the table ; really, the 
 man has three pen-wipers ! " 
 
 At this moment Dr. Lagrange entered. 
 
 " We were admiring the perfect order of your 
 arrangements," said Mrs. Morton. 
 
 " It is simply a necessity, in a life like mine. I 
 am glad you like it." 
 
 " But you must like it yourself." 
 
 " Yes, I do, and I wish others thought as much 
 of it as I do. It would make life easier. Now I 
 have the utmost trouble about letters ; people write 
 them on such different sizes of paper, and when 
 you come to file them they don't match. In the 
 hospital and in the service generally we have the 
 same difficulty." 
 
 "I see," replied Mrs. Morton, "how very vexa- 
 tious it must be." 
 
 " One has a like annoyance about people's opin- 
 ions," remarked Mrs. Westerley, with entire grav- 
 ity. 
 
 The surgeon looked puzzled. 
 
 " Yes, certainly," he said, in some doubt, being 
 a slow thinker, and not having time to consider the 
 matter. 
 
 Mrs. Morton availed herself of his hesitation to 
 say, " I came to consult you as to whether you still 
 think it will be wise for me to ask Dr. Wendell to
 
 68 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 see Mr. Morton. There seem to be reasons for and 
 against it. What do you think, doctor ? " 
 
 " Hum ! " replied Lagrange ; " on the whole I 
 should ask him. He knows the case and its needs. 
 He lives within call, and I suspect will feel the 
 summons so flattering that you will get from him 
 indeed can ask from him more frequent visits 
 than an older man would be apt to pay. I think I 
 would put the case in his hands ; and, if agreeable 
 to you, I will myself see my old friend, now and 
 then." 
 
 " Oh, that would remove all my objections." 
 
 " Wendell is older than he looks," said Lagrange. 
 
 " Of course," returned Mrs. Morton, " it is very, 
 very absurd ; but I have always had doctors whom 
 I knew, and who have had a certain knowledge of 
 one's life and ways. You understand me, doctor?" 
 
 " Yes, I suppose I do. Wendell has been brought 
 up among plain New England people." 
 
 " But he can't put his manners into his pills, you 
 know," said Mrs. Westerley. 
 
 " It is his manner more than his manners," ex- 
 plained her friend. 
 
 " Oh, it 's the singular, not the plural, you object 
 to ! " laughed Mrs. Westerley. " For my part, I 
 would take him and educate him. I think, if I 
 were ill, which I never am, I would like the 
 task myself. He is very good looking, and if he 
 dressed well would be presentable enough." 
 
 Lagrange smiled approval. "I think I would 
 risk it ; " and so then and there it was settled that
 
 IN WAR TIME. 69 
 
 Dr. Wendell should become the medical adviser of 
 Major Morton. 
 
 Meanwhile their talk had been interrupted a half 
 dozen times by reports of contract physicians, order- 
 lies, provost-marshals, messengers, and the officer 
 of the day. Lagrange disposed of each in turn 
 with careful precision of well-considered reply. 
 
 "Do you never lose your temper?" said Mrs. 
 Westerley to him, as they descended the stairs to- 
 gether. " You are a first-rate housekeeper. But 
 pray tell me, what is the Stump hospital ? It must 
 be a new one." 
 
 " It is for men who have lost limbs," he replied. 
 
 "How droll! " said Mrs. Westerley. "Where do 
 they send generals who lose their heads ? " 
 
 " How absurd you are, Alice ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Morton. 
 
 The surgeon did not smile, and was still curi- 
 ously examining the question when they left him at 
 the hospital gate. He had himself what men call 
 dry humor, and like persons so endowed was often 
 slow in giving a jest the hospitality of mirthful ac- 
 ceptance. Perhaps it had to undergo a preliminary 
 process of assimilative desiccation. V 
 
 A few days afterwards, as I have said, in the 
 late evening, Dr. Wendell sat at home with his sis- 
 ter. He was happy, as usual in an hour of leisure, 
 over a family circle of rotiferas, which he had found 
 on the shore of Fisher's mill-pond, and he only 
 looked up now and then to reply to Ann, or mur- 
 mur some result of his observations without taking
 
 70 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 his eye from the glass. Ann Wendell sat, mean- 
 while, busily sewing. 
 
 "We have a great many things to talk over, 
 brother," she said. 
 
 "Yes, I know. Go on ; I can hear you." 
 
 " But I wish you would listen, really." 
 
 "Oh, I'll listen! What is it? When I stir 
 these fellows up they look very much as we must 
 have looked to some higher intelligence at the be- 
 ginning of this war. It 's almost laughable ! Hum ! 
 what a curious representation of threes in the cilia, 
 and the same in the allied species! Certainly, 
 Swedenborg was right about the mystical value of 
 that numeral." 
 
 A shade of vexation crossed Ann's face. She 
 altogether disapproved of Swedenborg and the New 
 Jerusalem and all mystical numbers whatsoever. 
 She said abruptly, "I think that girl up-stairs is 
 more important." 
 
 " Yes, relatively, my dear." 
 
 " What can we do with her ? The school-mistress 
 says in her letter that she has not been paid for a 
 year, and cannot take the child back. No one in 
 the South will claim her. She is on our hands, so 
 far as I can see it. Who is to support her, I would 
 just like to know ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Morton," replied Wendell, " says " 
 
 " ' Says ' yes, I know ; but do you suppose it 
 will last ? It 's not reasonable to think it will last." 
 
 " Oh, well, we '11 just keep her, and see. She 
 is a nice child. Did you notice how interested
 
 72V WAR TIME. 71 
 
 she was about that emperor moth I caught last 
 night?" 
 
 "'Keep her!' I suppose we must. We can't 
 turn her out into the street, or send her to the alms- 
 house." 
 
 " Then why, my dear Ann, should we discuss it ? 
 Upon my word, there 's a queer rotifer. I don't 
 think I ever saw it before." 
 
 Ann sighed. " You won't think it worth while, 
 or right, under the circumstances, to put the child 
 in black? It is only an added expense." 
 
 " Do just what you like, Ann." 
 
 Ann's needle flew nervously, and a little faster, 
 until it broke, and there was a moment's pause 
 while she sought and threaded another, when, wise 
 with woman's wisdom, she changed the talk. 
 
 " What did her father die of, brother ? " 
 
 " Pyaemia, we call it." 
 
 " There was a post mortem, was n't there ? " 
 
 " Yes, but it did not change the diagnosis. And 
 oh, by the bye," he added, with sudden animation, 
 " such a droll thing ! During the examination, 
 yesterday, I found the ball. When Major Morton 
 happened to speak of Gray's death, I mentioned it 
 casually, you know, thinking he might feel an in- 
 terest. When I did so, he asked if it was a minie*. 
 I said No ; a pistol ball." 
 
 Ann looked up, startled. " A what ? " she said. 
 
 " A Colt, No. 6. I really begin to think Mor- 
 ton was troubled about what that poor fellow said 
 in his wanderings, because he remarked to me how
 
 72 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 odd it was that it should turn out to be a pistol 
 ball." 
 
 " Do you think he really shot him ? " 
 
 " Stuff, Ann ! The notion was simply ridicu- 
 lous ! But suppose, for a moment, that Morton 
 had shot him. It was his duty. It was what he 
 was there for." 
 
 " I would n't like to think it." 
 
 " No, I suppose not. No woman would. Just 
 sharpen my pencil. I must draw this fellow while 
 he is so lively. How these vibrios bother one ! " 
 
 Then Ann, having done as he desired, rose, and, 
 putting aside her work, said, " Good-night, brother. 
 I am sorry to trouble you about the child, but how 
 can I help it ? " 
 
 " Oh, it's all right," he returned. " The thing 
 settles itself. We must wait." 
 
 . / In fact, waiting was a great resource in Wen- 
 dell's life ; nor, in this case, did Ann's homely sense 
 help her to any more acceptable solution. 
 
 " Well, good-night, brother. I am tired, tired 
 all over." 
 
 WendeU looked up at her. " Yes, I was afraid 
 you were doing too much. Can't you keep a little 
 more quiet ? There is no need for you to go to the 
 hospitals. You look run down." 
 
 " I don't know. I 'm more weary than tired ; 
 and I miss the sea, and the old home, and and 
 Ezra the chickens and at night I want to 
 hear the rote of the water on the beach." 
 
 " We might manage a little visit up there, when 
 Major Morton gets better."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 78 
 
 " I don't think we could afford it." 
 
 " Oh, yes, we '11 manage. Good-night. Now 
 don't worry yourself," and he kissed her kindly. 
 " Good-night, again." 
 
 There was on Ann Wendell's mind another and 
 a graver subject. She would have liked to speak 
 out her regret that no minister had seen the sick 
 soldier before he died, but she knew that on all 
 such matters it was useless to look for sympathy 
 from Wendell. She was firmly anchored, and he 
 was carelessly adrift as to all spiritual beliefs.
 
 VL 
 
 WENDELL was about thirty when he came to 
 Gennantown, and his years and some previous ex- 
 perience had made his way easier than is usual with 
 new-comers ; while at the same time his compara- 
 tive maturity rendered the up-hill toil among the 
 lower social classes difficult to bear. He had once 
 before gone through the same sharp test of charac- 
 ter, the test which makes or mars, degrades or 
 ennobles, every physician in degrees which are de- 
 termined by the nature of the moral capital with 
 which he starts, and also more or less by the intel- 
 lectual interest with which he regards his profes- 
 sion. 
 
 As to this alone, Wendell was more fortunate 
 than many others. His work attracted him, but 
 not continuously ; and, as I have said, the contact 
 which he began to have with the refined classes 
 made him more comfortable in his circumstances, 
 and better pleased with himself and his surround- 
 ings. Thus far he had cared little about children, 
 save in a mildly sentimental way. They exacted 
 sacrifices, and as a rule did not seem to give much 
 in return. His own unusual culture lifted him so 
 much above the range of the somewhat hard, prac- 
 tically educated school-mistresses of his New Eng-
 
 IN WAR TIME. 75 
 
 land home that he had found in the women he 
 had known little that was attractive, and had been 
 merely repelled by their business-like, over-active 
 conscientiousness. Now, with the prolonged stay of 
 Hester Gray under his roof, and the novel world 
 opened to him through the Mortons, an unread 
 leaf of the life book was turned over before him, 
 and pleasant enough he found it. 
 
 The child had few memories of home or family, 
 and in childhood the wounds of grief or losses heal 
 as readily as do those of the physical frame. Very 
 soon the rather monotonous school-days and the 
 sudden and strange hospital scenes faded, along with 
 the shyness born of contact with strangers. Then 
 the little bud of active, alert, maidenly life began 
 to put forth rosy petals with modest coyness, one by 
 one, and to take with instinctive eagerness delight 
 in life. 
 
 To his surprise, Wendell became gradually inter- 
 ested in the girl, while to his sister she was a con- 
 stant and often a bewildering phenomenon. Never- 
 theless, Ann looked carefully after her dress and 
 food, and soon found it not unpleasant to resume, 
 with an apt and clever pupil, her old work of 
 teaching ; so that the new charge was in no way a 
 weight or a cause of anxiety to Wendell. Like 
 most men of his type, he got at first a mere senti- 
 mental pleasure out of the child, and either shirked 
 all care for her, or gave her mere material life no 
 thought whatsoever. 
 
 The last days of October had come, and one af-
 
 76 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 ternoon, as was now quite often the case, Dr. Wen- 
 dell called cheerfully for Hester. Ann appeared at 
 the head of the stairs. " She has yet an hour to 
 finish her lessons. I would n't take her away from 
 them," she said. " It is so difficult to form regu- 
 lar habits, if you always insist on her going to walk 
 just when it is most inconvenient. I can't give her 
 the time in the morning, because of the house, and 
 the afternoons you are all the time spoiling." 
 
 " I am not always insisting, Ann. I want her to 
 see the Mortons as often as possible. It is an ex- 
 cellent lesson for any girl to see such a woman as 
 Mrs. Morton." 
 
 " Don't talk so loud ; she will hear you," replied 
 his sister, descending the stairs half-way. " I am 
 not sure that a poor orphan like Hester is at all the 
 better for such folks. It may not do much harm 
 now, but when she gets older she will see a great 
 many " 
 
 " Oh, yes, my dear sister," he said, interrupting 
 her, " perhaps so, perhaps not ! All questions have 
 two sides. I must have her to-day, anyhow." 
 
 Had Ann persisted, he would have yielded, as 
 all but merely brutal men do yield to gently urgent 
 women in their own homes ; but it was not in Ann 
 to deny her brother any pleasure. 
 
 " Well, this once," she said ; and so Hester, joy- 
 ous as a bird at the relief from confinement, was 
 presently at the doctor's side, in the street. 
 
 These afternoon walks had become more and 
 more frequent, as the summer waned and the tern.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 77 
 
 pered heats of September prevailed. It was still 
 needful for Wendell to visit Major Morton twice a 
 day, and whenever his duties permitted escape from 
 the afternoon round at the hospital he was apt to 
 secure Hester as his companion, and start early 
 enough to allow of a rambling walk, ending in a 
 call on his patient. 
 
 The question of a horse and carriage had become 
 a subject of discussion between the brother and sis- 
 ter ; but despite some need for them, too much im- 
 mediate expenditure was involved for more than 
 mere thought at present, and the Mortons were as 
 yet the only patients at any distance. These walks 
 at this pleasant season were to Wendell a great 
 delight, and the intelligent little companion, so 
 strangely cast into his life, made them a yet more 
 agreeable and varied source of happiness. 
 
 Far up the main street the sunlight shone on the 
 gray and dusty turnpike, and lit the maples, aglow 
 with red and gold, and caressed the mottled boles 
 of the few stately buttonwoods, still erect in front 
 of some grave-looking houses with Doric portals 
 and green window blinds, standing back from the 
 street, as if shunning the common line of lesser 
 stone dwellings, the gray fronts of which were half 
 covered to their hipped roofs with the gorgeous au- 
 tumn blazonry of the Virginia creeper. At last, 
 with the child at his side, he turned into School 
 Lane, where he lingered a moment to show her the 
 old schoolhouse, with the royal crown still shining 
 on its little spire ; and so along past modern villas
 
 78 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 to the Township Line road, where, turning to the 
 right, down the hill, they soon found their way into 
 the wooded valley of the Wissahickon. At the 
 little old covered crossing, long known as the Red 
 Bridge, they passed over the brown, still stream. 
 
 " And now for a scramble, Hester," he exclaimed, 
 and led the way up a shady hill, taking a short 
 woodland path to Morton's house, which stood on a 
 bluff looking down on a long reach of quiet water 
 overhung by trees. A slight breeze was stirring the 
 hazy atmosphere of the October woods, and the air 
 was full of leaves, red and brown and yellow, saun- 
 tering lazily downward to help make up the brown 
 gaps in the rustling carpet of red and gold. It was 
 alike new and delightful to the bright little maid, 
 this gorgeous mask of autumn. Wendell went 
 along supremely happy, all his sensuous being alive 
 to the color of the leaves, the plumed golden-rods, 
 the autumn primrose, and the cool woodland odors. 
 
 " See, dear," he said : " this is the sumach, and 
 it turns crimson ; and that is the gum-tree, always 
 first to get red, and now nearly all its beauties are 
 gone. And aren't the ferns a nice brown? Let 
 us get all the colors, and see how many we can find. 
 Look at this sugar maple : the leaves are red and 
 bordered with yellow. And here on the wood 
 verge," he added, halting, " I found some aphides 
 yesterday. They are rather late. Oh, here they 
 are ! Do you know, they are the cows which the 
 ants keep ; " and he told her all the queer story of 
 the ants' domestic economy, while the little fellows
 
 IN WAR TIME. 79 
 
 made incomprehensibly tortuous journeys, vast to 
 them as that of Columbus. 
 
 Meanwhile, the child listened with rapt atten- 
 tion, gathering the leaves in her hands, and pres- 
 ently she flitted away in chase of a splendid moth, 
 which she stored in her handkerchief, gathered into 
 a bag, where it found itself in queer company with 
 a beetle or two, and a salamander captured in a rill 
 which crossed the path. 
 
 "Won't the long red thing get hurt?" asked 
 the child. " Won't the beetle eat him ? " 
 
 "No ; if you even cut off his tail, it would grow 
 again." 
 
 "But his legs?" 
 
 "If he were a crab, even his legs would grow 
 again." 
 
 "But would mine?" 
 
 " No, I rather think not." 
 
 " Why would n't they ? " 
 
 " I don't know." 
 
 " Oh ! " The child was silent. It seemed to her 
 strange that there should be anything that he did 
 not know. 
 
 " Is n't it getting late ? " she then said. 
 
 "Bless me, yes!" cried Wendell. "Come 
 along. It is nearly six, and I have to meet Dr. 
 Lagrange. How came you to think it was late?" 
 
 " Miss Ann said I was to remind you ; and I re- 
 membered, didn't I?" she added, with a quaint 
 little triumphant sense of having fulfilled her small 
 duty.
 
 80 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " Women are queer things," murmured Wen- 
 dell ; " big and little, they are queer ! " 
 
 The girl overheard him. 
 
 " What is queer, sir ? Am I queer ? " 
 
 "No," he cried, "you are only nice," and he 
 kissed the attentive, earnest face looking up at 
 him. His own very natural act gave him a moment's 
 shock of surprise. It was the first time that he had 
 thus caressed her, and the small personage was 
 somehow pleased ; but she still recalled her office, 
 and said, " We must hurry, or we '11 be so late." 
 
 "Yes, come along," he replied. "Forward 
 march." 
 
 By and by they came out on the crest of the hill, 
 and looked back on the wonder of the autumn 
 woods. 
 
 He paused again in thought. " Some people 
 fancy colors are like sounds of music, Hester." 
 
 "Like music, sir? I don't understand. Will 
 I understand some day ? " 
 
 " Perhaps. Now if each color was to become a 
 sound, and all these trees were to sing, what a 
 music that would be! " 
 
 " Would n't the birds be frightened ? " 
 
 " Rather," said WendeU, laughing. He delighted 
 to talk a little over the child's head, to see what 
 answers he would get. " Oh, there is Mrs. Wester- 
 ley ! " he exclaimed, as they climbed a fence, and 
 began to walk over the lawn toward the house. 
 He knew Hester was timid and shy, owing to her 
 want of frequent contact with the outside world of
 
 IN WAR TIME. 81 
 
 men and women, so he said quietly, "Don't be 
 afraid, Hester." 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " And this is the little girl I have heard about," 
 said Mrs. Westerley, cool and handsome in white 
 muslin, for the day was warm, and holding her 
 straw hat swinging in her hand. " Dr. Lagrange 
 is waiting for you, but I know you will have some 
 delightful excuse. He has been here half an hour. 
 I envy you doctors your wealth of excuses! I 
 would like to join an apology class. I think, with 
 time and practice, I could learn to fib quite agree- 
 ably." 
 
 Wendell was not yet up to the matter of small 
 social badinage. It embarrassed him, and he hated 
 to be embarrassed. "I was delayed," he said, 
 gravely, " and " 
 
 Hester felt stirred with some sort of vague con- 
 sciousness that her pleasant companion was being 
 taken to task. " I wanted him to stop too long in 
 the woods for the leaves," she explained, and then 
 proceeded to display as evidence a handful of her 
 treasures. 
 
 " Oh, terrible infant ! " laughed the lady. " A 
 dangerous advocate, doctor. She was just in time 
 to save your conscience." 
 
 Wendell flushed almost imperceptibly. " I was 
 detained," he said. " If you will take care of Hes- 
 ter, I will go to the house." 
 
 " I will look after her," returned Mrs. Wester- 
 ley. "Come, Hester, I love little girls. Let us
 
 82 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 go into the garden. There must be some peaches 
 yet." 
 
 " Oh, that will be nice!' 
 
 " Well, come, and let us look for them ; and as 
 to pears, I will give you a wheelbarrow load." 
 
 They were fast friends in ten minutes, and in a 
 half hour returned to the house, Hester having 
 eaten twice as much as was good for her. 
 
 Meanwhile there had been a consultation. Wen- 
 dell had become uneasy about his patient's condi- 
 tion, and it was yet more plain to the elder physi- 
 cian that the drain of so grave a wound was being 
 badly borne, and that Morton's increasing irrita- 
 bility and nervousness were the the growing results 
 of his condition. 
 
 "What do you think of my husband?" said 
 Mrs. Morton to the two surgeons, as they met her 
 at the foot of the staircase. 
 
 "Dr. Wendell will tell you," said Lagrange, 
 who was precise in all the little matters of the 
 rights and functions of the attending physician. 
 
 " I hope that Dr. Lagrange will feel free to say 
 what he thinks," replied Wendell, not sorry to shift 
 an unpleasant burden. 
 
 "I am glad that one doctor, at least, can forget 
 this eternal etiquette," exclaimed Mrs. Morton, a 
 woman much used to have her own way and to set 
 aside all obstacles to her will, and now troubled 
 out of her usual calm of manner. 
 
 " You will pardon me, I am sure, if I say that 
 it is good manners, not mere etiquette, my dear
 
 IN WAR TIME. 83 
 
 friend," answered the surgeon, smiling ; " but with 
 Dr. Wendell's permission, I am wholly at your 
 service. I don't I should say, we don't quite 
 like Morton's condition. He does not come up as 
 he should do." 
 
 "Is he in danger?" 
 
 "No, he is in no immediate danger." 
 
 " Do you think he will get well ? " 
 
 " We hope so." 
 
 " But what are his chances ? I had no idea he 
 was so ill ! Why did you not tell me before ? " 
 
 " We have only of late felt so uneasy. It is a 
 question of strength of constitution, of physical 
 endurance, and of power to take food. How com- 
 petent these will prove no one can tell." 
 
 " But I must know," she said. " Are you sure 
 that you have told me the whole truth? " 
 
 " Yes, so far as we know it." 
 
 " And you are certain ? " 
 
 " Physicians can rarely be certain. Those who 
 are most wise are the least apt to be so. If you 
 were not in great trouble, I am sure that you would 
 not have asked me again." 
 
 " You must excuse my impatience, doctor, but I 
 wish I could have something more definite." 
 
 " I wish I could also, my dear lady. That is just 
 one of the miseries of our profession. If it would 
 make you feel easier to have any one else to see 
 him with us, I am sure nothing would be more 
 agreeable to Dr. Wendell and myself." 
 
 " Of course," said Wendell. This was not pre-
 
 84 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 cisely true. He already had enough help in the 
 way of sharing responsibility, and he distrusted in 
 his inward consciousness the addition of some one 
 of celebrity, who might possibly disturb his hold 
 on an important case and family; for already he 
 had been consulted as to the condition of Mrs. 
 u Morton's elder son, who was an invalid. 
 
 "No," returned Mrs. Morton wearily, "I only 
 want to be sure, and I don't suppose any one can 
 help us more than you. If you cannot make me 
 sure, no one can." 
 
 The younger man felt that he might reasonably 
 have been included in this statement of confidence. 
 
 " You will come often, and watch him closely ? " 
 she added. 
 
 " You may rest assured that nothing will be left 
 undone," said Lagrange. 
 
 " What with Mr. Morton's state and Edward's, 
 I am worn out," she returned. 
 
 " I am sorry for you, Wendell," said Lagrange, 
 when they were parting. " You will probably have 
 a losing fight to make. But it will not be the last 
 one in your life. Good-by. See you on Thursday. 
 And by the way, and as I am an old fellow you 
 won't mind it, I would be a little more punctual, 
 /don't mind it much myself, but these people think 
 themselves important, and they will." 
 
 Wendell was never very patient under advice, 
 and disliked it always ; but he wisely thanked the 
 elder man, and said good-by. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mrs. Westerley and Hester, laugh-
 
 IN WAR TIME. 85 
 
 ing and happy, appeared on the back porch, which 
 looked out on the garden, and extended along the 
 back of a somewhat roomy and old-fashioned gray 
 stone house. 
 
 As Mrs. Westerley looked up, she saw Mrs. Mor- 
 ton seated near the hall door gazing dreamily into 
 distance. Arthur, her younger boy, knelt at her 
 side, holding her hand, and her older son, a tall, 
 broadly built, but pale young man of twenty, stood 
 with one hand on her shoulder, his face disturbed 
 and grave, and his eyes filling. As Mrs. Wester- 
 ley came near, he left his mother, saying to the 
 new-comer, " Mother has just heard from the doc- 
 tors that my father is not so well. In fact, they 
 are very uneasy about him." 
 
 " Oh, Edward, this seems very sudden ! It can't 
 be so bad. Let me talk with her alone. There, 
 Arty, take my young friend to Dr. Wendell." 
 
 The younger lad, rising, kissed his mother's 
 cheek, took Hester's hand, and followed by his 
 brother, who moved with a certain feebleness of 
 step, went into the house. 
 
 " Is this really so, Helen ? " said Mrs. Westerley. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know. They say so. I cannot 
 understand how a man of his vigor and health 
 could be so pulled down. It is n't only his body, 
 Alice, but he is irritable and exacting beyond 
 belief." 
 
 " But you don't mind that, dear, in a sick man." 
 
 " Oh, no, I don't mind it." Yet she did. Sick- 
 ness was to Mrs. Morton a sort of unreasonable
 
 86 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 calamity, and held for her always some sense of 
 personal wrong. When her children were ill, and 
 especially Edward, this feeling of being directly in- 
 jured rose to a pitch of angry indignation, and she 
 then showed, despite her admirable tact and good 
 breeding, that curious, wild, half-animal instinct of 
 protective and defiant maternity which made the 
 doctor's task no easy one. If she had analyzed the 
 matter, she would have seen what was clear to her 
 shrewd friend, that her children were far more to 
 her than her husband. He had disappointed the 
 keen ambitions with which she had begun her life 
 with him. He had sympathized with her early 
 dream of a political career for him until they were 
 married, when, by degrees, it became clear that the 
 small disgusts and coarse contacts of such a life 
 were amply sufficient to defeat any display of en- 
 ergy in that direction, and that his love of power 
 was incompetent as a motive to do more than to 
 make him a selfish, amiable, well-bred despot in 
 his own home. Then, as he had never balked his 
 tastes, he had had some unpleasant intimacies, 
 quite too much talked about for Helen's comfort. 
 And so at last, having failed to arouse him to as- 
 sert himself in any nobler fashion, the woman had 
 come to feel that life was over so far as any aspira- 
 tions for him were concerned, and to look to her 
 two boys with anticipations which their young lives 
 bade fair to fulfill. Then came the war, and Mor- 
 ton was drawn into that wild vortex, with a vague 
 hope on his wife's part that at last he would illus-
 
 IN WAR TIME. 87 
 
 trate a name which in former days had won a bril- 
 liant reputation in the colonial and later history of 
 his country. And now this hope, too, was gone. 
 His career in the army had been successful. He 
 was brave, as all his people had been ; and Helen 
 Morton had felt a novel access of tenderness and 
 seen new possibilities of happiness in his success. 
 Two days before, she had learned that he was ga- 
 zetted colonel of his regiment, and now it was all 
 over ! There was for her some feeling of defeat in all 
 this, some sense of a too malignant fate. Through- 
 out her married life she had writhed under the hu- 
 miliating sense of feebleness that strong women 
 feel in the face of ineffective struggles to urge a 
 lower masculine nature into activities which shall 
 gratify the desires for position and a career denied 
 to themselves by the thralldom of social usage. 
 
 Then of late her temper had been sorely taxed. 
 All that was worst in Morton was being accentu- 
 ated by sickness, and, like most people on the rack 
 of pain and weakness, he was undergoing the pro- 
 cess of minor moral degradation which chronic ill- 
 ness brings to so many. Acute brief disease may 
 startle us to better and graver thoughts of our aims 
 and our actions, but prolonged illness makes more 
 noble but a rare and chosen few. Mrs. Morton sat 
 some time in quiet, and at last said abruptly, 
 
 " Alice, this is the bitterest time of all these bit- 
 ter years." 
 
 Mrs. Westerley knew in a measure what this 
 meant, but she felt that it was necessary, as a mat-
 
 88 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 ter of good sense, to ignore anything hidden in her 
 friend's complaint, and to deal only with the palpa- 
 ble present. 
 
 " I don't think you ought to say that, my dear. 
 You have those two boys. They do seem to me 
 two of the nicest, sweetest-mannered fellows ! It 
 is touching to see how they hang around you. And 
 as to the major, we ought to call him * colonel ' 
 now, I suppose, poor fellow ! he is only as yet an 
 ill man. No one despairs about him." 
 
 " Oh, it is n't only that, Alice ; although," she 
 added, " God knows that is bad enough." 
 
 " I think I understand, dear." 
 
 " No, you don't. Indeed, how could you ? No 
 one understands but myself." 
 
 "Well, perhaps not all, not everything. But 
 here is the nurse." Then Mrs. Morton went into 
 the house, and Mrs. Westerley joined Hester and 
 the doctor, who, having written his orders, was 
 about to depart. 
 
 " There is a bit of twilight yet," said the lady. 
 " I will walk with you to the creek." 
 
 " Shall we take the road ? " he asked, moodily. 
 
 " If you please." 
 
 Wendell was uncomfortable, and he hardly knew 
 
 why it was so. As there are people who feel slight 
 
 atmospheric changes or electric conditions of the 
 
 x air, so there are others who are exquisitely alive 
 
 ^ to the little annoyances of social life. They are 
 
 like a musician, who automatically feels the defects 
 
 of this or that player in a great orchestra, and is
 
 IN WAR TIME. 89 
 
 made unhappy by the keenness of that very appre- 
 ciativeness which fits him to enjoy the perfection of 
 harmony. If our eyes were microscopes and our 
 ears audiphones, life would be one long misery ; 
 and a too delicate sense of the moods and manner 
 of those about us is an almost equal calamity. 
 Wendell had learned that there was some sting 
 possible for him in the ways and talk of even the 
 best bred, when tormented by trouble into natural- 
 ness of speech. It surprised and hurt him ; nor 
 could his reason prevent it now from causing one 
 of those abruptly born senses of depression to 
 which he was subject. Feebly yielding, as usual, 
 to the mood, he walked beside the gay widow in 
 silence. 
 
 " You seemed troubled about Mr. Morton," she 
 began. " Are you troubled ? " 
 
 " Yes," he said, glad to accept any excuse for his 
 speechlessness. " Yes, I am a good deal troubled. 
 It 's an awful thing to see death coming closer and 
 closer, and to feel that you are in a measure held 
 to be responsible." 
 
 He had not meant to go so far, but his depres- 
 sion colored his talk. 
 
 " Surely," she returned, " you do not mean that 
 he wiU die ? " 
 
 " No, not surely, of course, not that exactly ; 
 only that he is ill, very ill." 
 
 " Is n't it rather sudden ? " 
 
 " It is always so, you know. A patient gets 
 worse, and the time comes when you have to say so. 
 Then it always seems to be sudden."
 
 90 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 "I don't believe that he will die. You don't 
 know these Mortons, doctor. They have such con- 
 stitutions ! I am sure he will get well." 
 
 Mrs. Westerley had no belief in anybody's dy- 
 ing. Generally the people she knew were alive, 
 and she herself was too much so to feel death at all 
 as a common and relentless factor, getting, as time 
 went on, increasing value in the complicated equa- 
 tion of being. 
 
 The conviction somehow singularly comforted 
 Wendell, who, like other doctors, felt deeply the 
 tone of those about him who held relation to the 
 sick. 
 
 " You are very good to say so," he replied. " I 
 find it often as hard to believe in life as you do in 
 death." 
 
 " I do not wonder at that," she said. " But it is 
 rather grim talk for the child! There, run on, 
 Hester, and get me a bunch of those red ash ber- 
 ries. What a charming little woman she is ! I 
 would like to know who her people are. She has 
 a pleasant, quiet flavor of the old manners about 
 her, such as used to scare me in my grand- 
 mamma Evelyn. I once knew a Mr. Gray from 
 Edisto. I wonder if she belongs to that family ? 
 They were very blue blood, indeed, and I dare say 
 did their wicked best to get us into this present 
 muddle. I wish, for my part, we could tow Massa- 
 chusetts and South Carolina out to sea, and anchor 
 / them together, and let them settle their difficul- 
 ties!"
 
 IN WAR TIME. 91 
 
 "Wendell laughed. " It 's well you 're not a man. 
 You would soon get into Fort Lafayette." 
 
 " Oh, that 's just one of the many advantages of 
 being a woman ! Don't you think I am horribly 
 disloyal ? I talked so to old Wilmington, the other 
 night, that he says I am dangerous, and to-day 
 he would hardly speak to me ; but then he had been 
 taking a great deal of the major's madeira, and his </ 
 nose shone like a cheerful lighthouse ! " 
 
 Wendell could not help being amused. He 
 wished faintly in his heart that Ann Wendell, who 
 was always good-humored in a level, even way, had 
 some of this woman's gayety. 
 
 44 1 shall not inform on you," he said, smiling. 
 
 " It would n't be of any use. I gave a whole 
 regiment toothbrushes, once, and when I get very- 
 bad I discipline myself and comfort my friends by 
 sending a check to the sanitary commission." 
 
 " Rather dear penitence," he returned. 
 
 " Yes, is n't it ? But one must do something, in 
 these days. Now if I only were a man " 
 
 " A man ! Why ? " 
 
 " How can you ask ? I should be in it, in the 
 war, at the front, I mean. I hate to see a man 
 about the streets, when I know that we could crush s 
 it all out so easily if we just put forth our strength. 
 I pity that boy, Edward Morton. He does so want 
 to join the army, and is so wretched over his weak 
 health." 
 
 " He is certainly much broken," said Wendell, 
 " and I am afraid has little else than a life of inva- 
 
 7
 
 92 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 1 id i. si 11 before him ; and what is worse, he cares for 
 nothing really but out-of-door life, to shoot, fish, 
 or ride, and simply yearns after that wild cattle 
 ranch in Texas." 
 
 " Yes, I pity him," she said, with sudden softness, 
 wondering a little that the strong, healthy man at 
 her side did not seem to quite take in the sadness of 
 this broken life. " I pity the disappointed ! Life 
 has been so sweet and soft for me, and so joyous, 
 every breath of it. Oh, I could build a very nice 
 heaven out of this earth's possibilities ! " 
 
 " Would n't it lack something ? " 
 
 " Yes, it might ; surely it would. But you must 
 not put my gay moods to serious question. You 
 have been so pleasant that I have come twice as far 
 as I meant to. I hope you feel it to be your fault. 
 Where are my mountain ash berries ? Thank you, 
 you dear child! How nicely you have tied the 
 stems together ! Good-night ! And by the bye, I 
 want to call on Miss Wendell. Pray tell her that 
 I hope she will be at home to me, whether she is 
 out to others or not. I must see that child again. 
 Good-night ! " 
 
 Wendell was flattered, amused, and puzzled. 
 This was a new creature to him. The odd reckless- 
 ness of statement, the sudden changes of position in 
 regard to questions discussed, the touch of malice in 
 her talk at times when she sketched a friend, these 
 all bewildered the doctor. Mr. Wilmington said 
 of her that she dealt little in amiable phrases and 
 never did an unkind thing; and that to be hei
 
 IN WAR TIME. 93 
 
 friend was a frightful risk of character, and as good 
 assurance of mild calumny as running for Con- 
 gress. 
 
 " But then, my dear Mr. Wilmington," said the 
 widow to that old gentleman, when, in a moment of 
 utter exasperation, he betrayed his annoyance in 
 this satirical sentence, " it is of no use to abuse my 
 enemies ; besides, I have none but you. I think 
 my friends must like it, for they do not desert me ; 
 and I never abuse you, Mr. Wilmington, 
 never ! "
 
 VII. 
 
 WHEN Wendell told his sister of the state of 
 things at the Mortons', she said that he would have 
 been wise to have stayed with them that night, be- 
 cause the first effect of such intelligence was always 
 "so upsetting," as she phrased it; and besides, 
 with her warmer recognition of the calamities of 
 others, she felt that it was just the moment to add 
 the friend to the doctor, and to do more than was 
 asked. Wendell saw the truth of this, but not so 
 clearly as when he was called from his bed that 
 night to visit his patient, who had become increas- 
 ingly feverish, and had insisted on having the doc- 
 tor at once. Then Wendell offered to sleep at the 
 house, until the major grew better, and his offer 
 being gladly accepted, arrangements were made to 
 send the carriage for him every night about ten 
 o'clock. 
 
 The constant and familiar intercourse with the 
 Mortons, into which the doctor was thus thrown, 
 became of great use to him. It gentled him, as the 
 old English word has it; and with the natural 
 quickness of an American, he saw and assimilated 
 a good deal of what was most akin to his tastes, 
 which tended towards easy acceptance of whatever 
 was pleasant or graceful. Moreover, all of these
 
 IN WAR TIME. 95 
 
 people interested him, and were some of them as 
 novel to his former social experiences as would 
 have been the flora of another planet to his botani- 
 cal knowledge. 
 
 The Mortons, like many other of the older Penn- 
 sylvania families, had once, in very early colonial 
 times, been Quakers, or, as they even yet preferred 
 to say, " Friends." They had, however, long since 
 deserted the following of Penn, or, what was more 
 probable, had in stricter days been cut off from the 
 society for breaches of discipline, and were now, and 
 had long been, " world's people " to other Mortons, 
 their kinsfolk, who came to the house at times, and 
 were as well satisfied with their ancestry as with 
 the polish of their old plate, or the ineffable silk of 
 their marvelous bonnets. There came also many 
 visitors representing staid families who had lived 
 since Penn's settlement in or near the old borough 
 of Germantown, and who had the distinctiveness and 
 individuality of people long hedged about by un- 
 changing circumstances. Their young folks mostly 
 slipped away to the calmly growing city, or went to 
 New York, and were then interiorly and vaguely 
 regarded by aged aunts as lost souls. Those who 
 remained in the ancient homesteads, and lived and 
 died adhesive to the soil, held a certain distinct 
 social place and position, passively yielded rather 
 than demanded. It was not always easy to see why 
 a few of these breeds had won early in colonial life, 
 and held so steadily, their places on the upper 
 levels of society. It may have been sometimes
 
 96 /TV WAR TIME. 
 
 because of the general possession of shrewdness and 
 business capacity, the cumulative quality, or that, 
 among numberless commonplace people of their 
 race, each generation produced one or two who rose 
 to distinction, and thus illustrated a name and sus- 
 tained its influence. 
 
 The little straggling town, with its long main 
 street and outlying lanes, was full of such people as 
 these ; whilst also there were frequent visitors from 
 the city, relatives or friends of the Mortons, 
 quiet Philadelphians, with set ways, and seemingly 
 as much alike as their marble doorsteps, yet ready 
 with an odd fund of undeveloped enterprise for 
 emergencies, if they were sufficiently important. 
 
 To many of these people Wendell was more or 
 less an interesting person, as a new comer and the 
 attendant of a man of social importance and of 
 large fortune, and found this position by no means 
 unpleasant. He amused Morton, who liked people 
 to talk for him, and who himself never talked more 
 than he could help ; so that, had it not been for 
 the occasional breakdowns in his patient's case, his 
 doctor would have felt, on the whole, that his own 
 life was becoming more and more easy and agree- 
 able. 
 
 All this while the war was moving on, and of its 
 fortunes and their influences the little village had 
 their share. There were families whom it tore 
 asunder, and others whom it doomed to mourn 
 their noblest. There were those of the Society of 
 Friends who looked on it as wrong, from beginning
 
 IN WAR TIME. 97 
 
 to end, but who expended time and money on hos- 
 pitals and the wounded ; while now and then some 
 resolute young fellow, like the famous Free Quak- 
 ers of the Revolutionary War, would defy the so- 
 ciety and the overseers, and go off to the front. 
 These gallant backsliders from the creed of Penn 
 and Barclay generally made themselves heard of 
 in the struggle, and helped to make up a healthy 
 average of active pugnacity for many a kindly, 
 quiet stock which had struck no blow in anger for 
 a century and a half. Out of it all came an in- 
 crease of life, a freshening of national vitality, 
 which was felt most in the centres of population, 
 and which, stirring all social classes, developed for 
 good or ill whatever there was susceptible of out- 
 growth alike in old and young. Certainly, no 
 period in the history of our race was ever more in- 
 teresting. 
 
 "I am eighteen, and over," said Arthur Mor- 
 ton ; " and next year, by George, I 'd like to see 
 what will keep me out of this war ! I am so big 
 now, I 'm ashamed to have a girl look at me in the 
 street, and I always feel sure that she is saying, 
 * There 's a fellow who ought to be at the front.' " 
 
 " Bother, Arty ! I don't believe they think of you 
 at all," said the elder brother. 
 
 " Well, perhaps not; but I think of myself." 
 
 " Oh, doubtless." 
 
 " Come, Ned, don't chaff me about this. When 
 a Quaker like Fox thinks it his duty to go "
 
 98 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " Must be an awful let-up to a Quaker," replied 
 Edward. " But look here, old man," he went on, 
 as he bent over the table, sketching fancy heads on 
 the margins of a morning paper : " there are two 
 sides to this question ; and after all, you could n't 
 go now, the way father is. I am of less and less 
 use every day. Don't talk about it to mother ; and 
 if you are down about it, Arty, just think what I 
 must be. Think what I must be ! " 
 
 " That won't help me," said the boy. " Because 
 you can't go is no reason why I should not. In 
 fact, that is an additional reason why I ought to go. 
 But I suppose there is no use in talking about it 
 now!" 
 
 " No, there is no use. And I say, old man, don't 
 talk to me about it any more ; not till you must, 
 anyhow ! Damn it, Art I I can't stand it ! I 
 hate books. I never read any. I detest this quiet, 
 humdrum life of our great towns. I love a horse 
 and a gun, and and Arty, I shall never have 
 them any more, never ! " he repeated, throwing 
 down his pencil. 
 
 " Yes, you will, Ned ; I am sure you will." 
 
 "Then you are sure without cause. This war 
 will be over, and I shall have struck no blow in it ; 
 and Arty, don't you go to thinking it romantic, but 
 when I look ahead, and know how all the man in 
 me is going to shrivel up by degrees, and that 
 oh, brother, I might have ridden with Custer, and 
 died man-like in some wild rush of battle ! Oh, by 
 George, old fellow, I am just like a fish on dry
 
 IN WAR TIME. 99 
 
 land. I think I begin to understand what Mrs. 
 Westerley meant, last week, when she said that 
 there was a certain completeness of calamity that 
 approached the ludicrous. However, I can tell you 
 one thing : you will never hear me complain again. 
 I have said my say. A fellow must have his growl 
 out to somebody." 
 
 " I would stay at home, if I could make it so 
 you could go," said Arthur, who had a boy's admi- 
 ration of the elder brother. "I wish they had 
 some fellows like you in command of that Potomac 
 army." 
 
 " Pshaw ! I can't command myself, even, as you 
 may see. Don't spread yourself on me as a hero, 
 and above all not a word to mother. Does n't it 
 seem, sometimes, as if life were one great muddle, 
 Arty ? Give me my stick. Here 's the doctor and 
 Mrs. Westerley, and there comes Mr. Wilmington 
 up the road. What a covey of queer birds ! " 
 
 After the doctor had gone upstairs, the young 
 men went out to the porch to join Mrs. Westerley, 
 when Mr. Wilmington rode up on his tall sorrel 
 thoroughbred, which not many people cared to 
 mount. 
 
 The slightly built old gentleman, with an uncom- 
 monly red face and a nose inclined to purple, was 
 on his feet in an instant, and bowing over the wid- 
 ow's hand in an antiquated and formal fashion. 
 He immensely admired her when she was present, 
 and entirely disapproved of her when she was ab-
 
 100 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " Charmed to see you, Mrs. Westerley," he said, 
 raising his large gray eyes, with something quaintly 
 solemn in their gaze. 
 
 " And how are your nieces ? " she asked. 
 
 " Very well, thank you." 
 
 " And is there any afternoon news ? " 
 
 "None, I believe. But as Mr. Addison says, 
 'The steps of time,' Bother! 1 wish Susie 
 were here ! She always knows what it is As 
 Mr. Addison " 
 
 " Yes, about Robinson Crusoe, and the footsteps 
 on the sands of time," said the widow, viciously, 
 while the two lads exchanged a surreptitious smile 
 of amusement. 
 
 " No," ejaculated Wilmington calmly, " that 
 is n't it ! How is your father, boys ? " 
 
 "Much the same, sir. He wants to see you 
 when the doctor goes." 
 
 " Well, I will wait." 
 
 " What a lovely day ! " said Mrs. Westerley. 
 
 " Yes, the day seems quite lovely," assented 
 Wilmington. 
 
 " But we want rain." 
 
 " Yes, we want rain very much." 
 
 " Our wells are nearly dry " 
 
 " Indeed, mine is quite dry." 
 
 " But luckily weather does not affect wine, at all, 
 t am told ; at least, not madeira." 
 
 " No, I don't think weather affects wine, but the 
 moon does." 
 
 " And when are you coming over to taste my ma-
 
 IN WAR TIME. 101 
 
 deira, Mr. Wilmington ? I am told it is good ; but 
 Major Morton said, last spring, that it needed care, 
 like myself, he was kind enough to add. Come 
 to-morrow, and take care of some of it for me. 
 You know that when we are out of town we dine 
 at three. I don't want to make a big dinner while 
 the major is ill, but I will ask Doctor Wendell, 
 I want to ask him. And, Edward, I suppose you 
 won't care to come ? " 
 
 / " No. Mother 's all the time urging me to leave 
 / the house, but I can't do it ; I really cannot." 
 
 " Well, then, I must find some one else. Shall 
 it be to-morrow, Mr. Wilmington ? " 
 
 " Nothing could give me greater pleasure," said 
 the old gentleman. " At three to-morrow, madam. 
 At three, you said ? " 
 
 Wendell also received his invitation ; and when 
 the widow added, " You know they are quite infor- 
 mal, our summer dinings. Don't put on a dress- 
 coat," he thanked her, and went away pleased and 
 a trifle puzzled. To be told what he was to wear 
 struck him as comical. 
 
 " I will walk with you," said Edward, " if you 
 are not in a hurry, and will give me your arm." 
 
 " How are you doing ? " asked the doctor, as they 
 moved away. 
 
 " I am worse, doctor. I walk badly, and I try 
 in vain to hide it from mother." Then pausing a 
 moment, he added, " Shall I go down hill rapidly ? 
 You may be sure that I am fully prepared to hear 
 the worst you can tell me ; and frankly, I would
 
 102 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 rather know what I have to expect. Just answer 
 me two or three questions, will you ? " 
 
 " If you really wish it." 
 
 " Yes, I do wish it. Shall I lose all use of my 
 
 "No, I think not." 
 
 " Will my head suffer ? Shall I lose my mind ? 
 That 's not or at least it was not as good as 
 my legs ; but still, when it is all there is left " 
 
 " No ; that does n't often happen in these 
 troubles." 
 
 " Then I shall still be of a little use at home, 
 and no worse off than some ugly girl whom no one 
 wants to marry ! " After a pause he again spoke : 
 " There is, I suppose, not the faintest chance that I 
 shall ever be well enough to sit a horse? " 
 
 " Hardly, I think ; but while there is life there is 
 hope." 
 
 Wendell was ashamed of this stupid common- 
 place of consolation, but in truth he did not know 
 what to say. 
 
 " And to think of all the healthy-legged idiots 
 who can go to the front, and are dawdling about 
 Newport and Saratoga ! Oh, doctor By Heaven, 
 but it 's hard I " 
 
 "Yes," replied Wendell, "it is hard," and 
 walked in silence. He felt in a vague way for the 
 lad, but did not know what to say. He tried to put 
 himself, mentally, in this young fellow's place, but 
 neither his experience nor his intelligence suggested 
 to him just what he ought to say ; for although a
 
 IN WAR TIME. 103 
 
 dreamily imaginative man, he was possessed of 
 none of that realistic, half -dramatic faculty, which 
 in its highest developments and united with tender- 
 ness constitutes the genius of sympathy. With all 
 his love of poetry and of nature, he lacked this 
 precious gift. 
 
 " Yes, it is hard, it is very hard," he contin- 
 ued, after a pause ; and so saying, regretted the 
 distinctness with which he had answered the young 
 man's straightforward queries. He had left him- 
 self none of the usual vaguely consolatory doubts 
 on which the over-questioned doctor is apt to fall 
 back. 
 
 " I did n't expect you to say anything to comfort 
 me," said Edward. " What I really wanted was 
 the truth." 
 
 " You asked me to be frank," returned Wendell, 
 who did not easily recognize a direct nature, and 
 was apt to search his index of human motives un- 
 der other than the obvious headings for what was 
 plainly to be read on the page before him, and who 
 fancied no one could want a cruel truth set before 
 him in its nakedness. Had he been a true woman, 
 he would have been touched by the manliness and 
 moral courage of the young fellow's questions. 
 Had he been a more masculine man, he would have 
 met them with sympathetic appreciation. 
 
 " Yes," repeated Edward, " I asked you to be 
 frank, and I am really very thankful, sir, that you 
 have told me everything. It must be hard for a 
 doctor to do this," said the lad, with a slight tremor
 
 104 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 about his lips, and with a strange and thoughtful 
 gentleness, " and perhaps I ought to have saved 
 you the annoyance of telling me. In fact, I did 
 think of writing ; but it came out, somehow, just 
 now, in spite of my not being quite ready. On the 
 whole, it is just as well." 
 
 " I thought so, poor boy ! He did not really want 
 the truth," said Wendell to himself ; not seeing how 
 much the lad had considered the doctor's embar- 
 rassing share in the matter, nor how completely he 
 had overrated the doctor's sympathetic reluctance 
 to be unpleasantly outspoken. 
 
 There are delicate overtones of unselfishness 
 which belong only to the purest and sweetest nat- 
 ures refined by the truest good-breeding. They are 
 of the very poetry of social conduct. The lad was 
 full of them ; but Wendell unfortunately was one 
 whose sensibility to moral harmonies failed of hear- 
 ing-power for these higher notes of the gamut of 
 character. 
 
 He answered young Morton with a few phrases 
 of ordinary consolation, to which the latter made 
 no reply, save to drop now and then a simple affir- 
 mative. In fact, he was lost to the passing moments, 
 and was sadly looking back upon a world of action, 
 V and forward to a world of passive inactivity. Then 
 he suddenly set these thoughts aside for a calmer 
 hour, and, stopping, put out his hand. 
 
 " You have been a good friend to me," he said. 
 "Do watch my father well, and keep an eye on 
 mother, too. So far she bears her troubles admira-
 
 IN WAR TIME. 105 
 
 bly; but what with father's state and my own mis- 
 erable bothers, it would n't surprise me to see her 
 break down." 
 
 " Her power of endurance is certainly remarka- 
 ble," returned Wendell. " Indeed, I was surprised, 
 yesterday, to see how she could turn aside from it 
 all. When I came downstairs, after seeing your 
 father alone, I found her quite amused over Hes- 
 ter's comments on those queer plant caricatures of 
 GrandviUe." 
 
 " Yet," said Edward, " my mother is not very 
 fond of young girls. But I think Hester really de- 
 lights her. You do not know that years and years 
 ago we lost a little sister, and that ever since then 
 mother has seemed to take no interest at all in 
 girls. It is a thing I never could quite understand. 
 I have seen her put herself out of the way to avoid 
 talking to them, or being long with them. But she 
 appears to take to Hester in a way I cannot see 
 through I don't mean what I mean is that the 
 girl is so gay, and alive, and full of childish sur- 
 prises, of odd ideas, that any one must like her; 
 but mother, in my memory, has never shown any 
 pleasure in a little girl. I say all this, doctor, be- 
 cause it may make you feel that Hester is a good 
 person to have in our house." 
 
 " Thanks," said Wendell. " I have sometimes 
 hesitated" 
 
 "Well, don't, then! She will always be wel- 
 come, as welcome as you; and that is saying a
 
 106 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 good deal. Good-night, doctor, and once again, 
 
 thank you." 
 
 " Shall I give you my arm back to the house ? " 
 " Oh, no," replied Edward, laughing. " I shall 
 
 hobble along slowly. Good-night."
 
 vm. 
 
 EZRA WENDELL was gratified at the prospect 
 of dining with Mrs. Westerley, and not less that 
 Mr. Wilmington was to be of the party. He knew 
 that the old gentleman was something of a force in 
 the Morton household, and a man socially well con- 
 sidered everywhere ; and the doctor over-estimated 
 such influences, as people are apt to over-estimate 
 the values, social or other, of taciturn persons. 
 Then also Mrs. Morton, who had now taken Wen- 
 dell's fortunes in charge, had told him that Mr. 
 Wilmington had spoken about consulting him in 
 regard to his gout. The doctor was pleased, too, 
 because Morton was somewhat better in the morn- 
 ing ; so that altogether his sensitiveness of tempera- 
 ment was agreeably dealt with by events, and he 
 went with more than usual cheerfulness through 
 his day's work, trying to suppress the feeling that 
 there was anything unusual in the matter of dining 
 with a handsome and sprightly woman. 
 
 Mrs. Westerley was a lady by no means given to 
 half measures. She had for the present " lost her 
 heart to these utterly unconventional people, my 
 dear." It was a question how long the loss would 
 continue, but at the time we speak of she had so- 
 cially adopted the doctor, and meant not only that
 
 108 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 he should succeed medically, but also that the little 
 aristocracy of the neighborhood should accept him 
 in social relations. All men interested Mrs. Wes- 
 terley, and this one was to her a quite novel, and 
 therefore a valuable, variety of the genus homo. 
 Moreover, just at present she was somewhat bored, 
 which, to do her justice, was rare, since, as a rule, 
 her means of amusement were as varied as the 
 hours allowed. She had married young, and within 
 a year had lost her husband by an accident. She 
 had mourned him in due fashion, and then had ab- 
 ruptly laid aside her widow's weeds, and crossed 
 the ocean, to become a favorite in pleasant circles, 
 and to return, after several winters, the same gay, 
 light-hearted woman as before. What lay beneath 
 this joyous masquerade only one woman Mrs. 
 Morton knew, and the daws believed that Alice 
 Westerley had no heart to wear upon her sleeve. 
 
 At present, she was bent upon attracting as well 
 as helping the new doctor, and she was hardly less 
 inclined to please his sister, as, like some few 
 women, she enjoyed, next to her male conquests, 
 those of her own sex. Of Miss Wendell, she as 
 yet knew nothing, except that Mrs. Morton de- 
 scribed her as a " very nice, plain kind of person, 
 who does n't wear cuffs, and who, of all women, 
 could not possibly interest you, my dear." 
 
 Nevertheless, Mrs. Westerley ordered her ponies 
 at eleven o'clock, and, with a critical look at groom 
 and harness, she set off on a round of errands, with 
 the intention of calling last upon Miss Wendell.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 109 
 
 Presently, as she drove down the main street, she 
 pulled up suddenly, with an abruptness to which 
 her ponies were not altogether unused. 
 
 " Mr. Fox ! " she cried, " Mr. Fox ! " An erect, 
 broadly-built man, of more than middle height, 
 clean-shaven and of fair color, approached her car- 
 riage. " I should have called you ' colonel,' " she 
 said. " I heard you were at home on leave. Come 
 and dine with me at three. As to my human mnu, 
 there is a clever doctor for my piece of resistance, 
 and old Wilmington, and myself." 
 
 The colonel was in undress uniform, and said 
 quietly, " Yes, I would like it ; but may I go away 
 early? And, by the way, I haven't the sign of 
 a civilized dress, only my police uniform," and he 
 looked round at his shoulder-straps, smiling. 
 
 " As to uniform," she replied, " I will try to bear 
 it. I am an awful copperhead, you know. But 
 we dine at three, as we always do in summer. As 
 to going away early, you may ; but I am sure you 
 won't. And I forgot to say that I have some tre- 
 mendous madeira." 
 
 The colonel's brown eyes lifted. " I will come, 
 even at the risk of storing up awful retributive 
 memories for days in camp, when the fare is beans 
 and bacon." 
 
 " Three o'clock, then. Good-by," and she drove 
 away. "Gracious," she exclaimed, "what an es- 
 cape! If I had had to leave my doctor to talk 
 madeira with Wilmington! What nice eyes the 
 man has ! "
 
 110 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Her errands done, the ponies drew up beneath 
 the lindens in front of Dr. Wendell's house. There 
 was no need to ring. Hester Gray was sitting on 
 the stoop at the door, in the warm October sun- 
 shine, surrounded by a queer little museum of mis- 
 cellaneous objects, over which the widow's eyes 
 passed, amazed. There were two glass preserving- 
 jars, with a spray or two of leaves in each, on which 
 some green and gold caterpillars were patiently 
 browsing. In the girl's lap were a large land turtle 
 and several square paper boxes, as well as an open 
 blank book, in which she was pasting very neatly a 
 brilliant collection of autumn leaves. She looked 
 up pleasantly, and setting aside her work rose to 
 her feet. 
 
 "Why, Hester, what is all this?" asked Mrs. 
 Westerley. 
 
 " I just brought out my caterpillars to have some 
 sun," the girl replied. "Dr. Wendell says they 
 like it, and this one is making a cocoon. Shall I 
 take out the big green one ? " 
 
 " Oh, dear, no ! " returned the widow ; " it might 
 disturb him. And what is that curious beast do- 
 ing, on his hind legs ? I really think he must be 
 saying his prayers." 
 
 "Not he!" cried Hester, laughing. "And do 
 you want to see my leaves, Mrs. Westerley ? " 
 
 " Not now, my dear. Kun and tell your aunt I 
 am here." 
 
 " Aunt ? Oh, you know she is not my aunt," 
 returned Hester, tranquilly.
 
 IN WAR TIME. Ill 
 
 " Of course, I know. I mean Miss Wendell." 
 
 " Yes." And carefully setting aside her menag- 
 erie, the child said, "Please to come in. I will 
 call Miss Ann." 
 
 Mrs. Westerley entered the parlor, and, wander- 
 ing about, took a pleased survey of its appearance. 
 " I wonder," she said to herself, " where that Delft 
 bowl came from. The mark is good," she added, 
 examining it critically. " And the books," she ex- 
 claimed, with renewed curiosity, turning to the 
 table, " what a droll assortment ! Swedenborg, 
 Divine Love and Wisdom, Browning, Hakewill's 
 Apologia, gracious heavens, does any one read a 
 book that big? Ford's plays, Edwards on the 
 Will, Quarles' Emblems. I should like to know 
 who reads which, as Arty says." 
 
 " Oh, Miss Wendell," she exclaimed, turning to 
 greet Ann with one of her most charming smiles, 
 " how pleasant to find you at home ! " 
 
 " Will you sit down ? " said Ann, composedly. 
 " My brother told me that you were coming to see 
 me. I am sure you are very kind. It is quite 
 neighborly." 
 
 " Of course I should come. What a lovely room 
 you have ! So much color ! You must have studied 
 the effects a good deal." 
 
 "I am afraid," rejoined Ann, "that I don't 
 think much of the colors. If I can only keep it 
 clean, I am more than satisfied." 
 
 " But one of you must think a good deal about 
 matters of taste. That Bartolozzi is not only beauti- 
 ful, but it is a proof and very rare."
 
 112 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " My brother Ezra is responsible for these small 
 extravagances. He says that they make life easier ; 
 but when I have to dust them, and I assure you 
 that is very often, I know he is mistaken in that 
 view of them. If he were the housekeeper, he 
 would find that so many little things make life a 
 good deal harder! I don't mean it is a matter 
 really to make a fuss over." 
 
 This candid expression of domestic difficulties 
 amused and puzzled the widow a little, but she re- 
 plied, " Indeed, I have much the same troubles, and 
 servants do break things. Don't you find that they 
 break things ? " 
 
 "No," said Ann, simply. "I do all the dusting 
 myself, and I am careful, very careful, because 
 brother values all these prints and bits of china." 
 
 " And how beautiful and charming they are ! I 
 was looking at that bowl on the mantel, before you 
 came down. It is Delft, and very good Delft." 
 
 " Yes, that is one of the few things from home. 
 I believe it came to Scituate in the Speedwell. My 
 brother says that it belonged to an ancestress of 
 ours, a Mistress Elizabeth Blossom. There is some- 
 thing about her and her father in a book we have. 
 I think they came over in 1640. How far away it 
 seems ! And now this bowl is all there is left on 
 earth to remember her by." 
 
 Mrs. Westerley was interested. There was a 
 mild flavor of gentility in this ancient Pilgrim 
 breed, keeping, in its insignificant existence on the 
 shores of Cape Cod, some pride of long descent.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 113 
 
 " And you are proud," said the widow, " of your 
 stern Puritan blood. I think I should be." 
 
 " Oh, but we were not Puritans," returned Ann ; 
 " we were Pilgrims, you know. There is a great 
 difference." 
 
 Mrs. Westerley did not know, but she put the 
 matter aside for future reference, saying, 
 
 " Of course, yes, of course. But do you know, 
 your brother does n't seem to me like a New Eng- 
 lander?" 
 
 "Does n't he ? I never thought of it at all, my- 
 self. Why does n't he?" 
 
 " Well, really, I could hardly say, but he does 
 not." She had in her own mind an idea that there 
 was about Wendell a certain softness of manner 
 which was Southern in its character ; but this was 
 not quite the thing she desired to say, and so she 
 added, " He talks more like a Mary lander, I think." 
 
 " I don't know that I ever was called on to notice 
 that, but it may be that he does." 
 
 " Have you heard him say to-day what he thinks 
 of Major Morton?" 
 
 " No ; I have not seen him since his morning 
 visit." 
 
 "I think you would feel pleased if you could 
 hear how the Mortons speak of him. He has been 
 so good, and so gentle with the major; and per- 
 haps you have little idea of that man's irritability ! 
 Indeed, I can't understand how any one could get 
 on with him as your brother does. He must have 
 a perfect temper."
 
 114 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Ann's face flushed with honest delight. "No 
 one," she said, "knows how good he is." Then 
 her heart opened to this woman who so intelli- 
 gently appreciated the brother. "It is such a 
 pleasure for me to feel that he is living where he 
 has a chance to show what he is ; and you know I 
 could n't expect every one to feel just as I do about 
 him." 
 
 "But you see you were wrong," returned Mrs. 
 Westerley; and then, knowing that she had per- 
 haps dwelt quite enough on Dr. Wendell, she added, 
 " And how good he is to the child ! It must be 
 rather a grave business to have a girl suddenly 
 left on your hands. Let me say, once for all, that 
 if in any way I can help you about Hester, you 
 must come to me without hesitation. Will you, 
 now ? " and she took Ann Wendell's hand. 
 " Yes, I will, if there be any need." 
 " And you won't forget ? I really mean it." 
 " No, I will do as you say ; " on which Mrs. 
 Westerley rose, feeling that she had achieved the 
 purpose of her visit, and went out to her ponies, 
 with a kiss from the child, who was still at the 
 open door with her pets in the sunshine. 
 
 Mrs. Alice Westerley lived in a modern house 
 on one of the lanes which border the battlefield of 
 Germantown, and her windows looked over the an- 
 cient burial-ground, where sleep side by side the 
 heroes of that indecisive day. A few old hemlocks 
 and spruces, and one or two tulip-poplars, were
 
 IN WAR TIME. 115 
 
 grouped about the grounds, which were only a few 
 acres in extent ; but the profusion of vines, now 
 splendid in autumn colors, gave a distinct charac- 
 ter to what would otherwise have been but one of 
 numberless modern villas, in no other respect very 
 unlike. Within, it remained very much as it was 
 when she bought it, except that it had acquired 
 that peculiar look of easy comfort and of being 
 lived in which some women have the art of diffus- 
 ing through any dwelling they may choose to in- 
 habit. 
 
 Wendell arrived exactly at the hour, and found 
 himself alone with Colonel Fox, the widow being a 
 little late, as was apt to be the case. Fox looked 
 at him with brief attention. He had heard some- 
 thing of him before, and what he had heard was 
 not altogether to his liking ; yet despite his precon- 
 ceptions, the doctor's face pleased him. 
 
 " Dr. Wendell, I think," said he. " I am Thomas 
 Fox, Colonel Fox, I suppose I should say ; but 
 we Friends cling by mere habit to the ways in which 
 we were brought up." 
 
 " I like them," returned Wendell ; " but it must 
 be rare to see people of your creed in the army." 
 
 "Yes, it is rare," rejoined the colonel, simply. 
 " I am glad our being both so early gives me a 
 chance to ask you about Morton. Is he really very 
 ill?" 
 
 " I would have said so until quite lately ; but 
 now I feel less uneasy." 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, and on such good author-
 
 116 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 ity. He made an admirable soldier. Do you see 
 any likeness to him in the picture above you, the 
 one on the left ? It is Mrs. Westerley's great-grand- 
 father. Morton and she are distantly related." 
 
 " Indeed," said Wendell, " one would hardly sus- 
 pect it. The major is such a wreck that I did not 
 know the photograph taken two years ago. Pain is 
 a relentless sculptor. But what a fine picture ! I see 
 some resemblance in the way the head is carried." 
 
 " It is a Copley, and the two over the table are 
 Stuarts, and that on the left is by the elder Peale. 
 It was hardly fair to hang it near the Stuarts. If 
 you like good portraits, as I do, you will fancy 
 these, I am sure. Just see how the hands are 
 painted, in the Copley ! " 
 
 " Yes," assented WendelL " There is character 
 in the way the old fellow grips his sword-hilt." 
 
 " They say he was only too ready with it," re- 
 marked Fox. 
 
 "I can believe that," said Wendell, smiling. 
 " But really, we are as unlike these people as we 
 are unlike the English of to-day." 
 
 " Yes," returned Fox. " That is true to some 
 extent. You must go farther back for the best 
 type of American face. I should say we are more 
 like the English of Charles the First's time. In 
 fact, the old Vandyke face has crossed the seas. 
 You don't see it in England. You do see it with 
 us. But here comes Mrs. Westerley ! " 
 
 " And of course," said the widow, " you were 
 saying that women never are punctual. Upon my
 
 IN WAR TIME. 117 
 
 word, the other world will be a great comfort to 
 people like myself. Where time does not exist, 
 punctuality will cease to be a virtue." 
 
 " Mr. Wilmington, at last," she added, as he en- 
 tered. 
 
 It was a pleasant dinner to the doctor. The 
 quick, alert chat of the hostess, trained in many 
 varied circles, and knowing how to call out what- 
 ever there was of good talk in her guests ; the re- 
 served, tranquil, old-fashioned ways of Wilmington, 
 with his long silences and occasional bits of sar- 
 casm; and the grave intelligence of the Quaker 
 colonel, made up a social atmosphere in which 
 Wendell felt that he was appreciated and at his 
 ease. Had he been a keener or more accustomed 
 observer, he would perhaps have noted the momen- 
 tary attention with which the colonel's brown eyes 
 dwelt furtively, at odd moments, now upon him, 
 and now upon Mrs. Westerley's mobile face ; but 
 he was too busy with the happiness of a rare social 
 hour to search for what lay beneath. Whether the 
 quick-witted woman herself observed it was quite 
 another matter. Few things escaped her. 
 
 There was first the news of the neighborhood, 
 and then the ever-recurrent talk of the war. 
 
 " Do you look for anything from Pope's ad- 
 vance ? " asked Mrs. Westerley. 
 
 "You won't tell," replied the colonel, smiling, 
 " if I say I do not. He is too confident, and like 
 most of our generals underrates his foe, I think. 
 Lee is not a general to be underrated, and never so
 
 118 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 little as when beaten. I don't like these cats in a 
 corner. We shall have to make up our minds to 
 lose man for man until we, who are numerically 
 better off, have enough men left to win with." 
 
 " Did thee ever play poker very much, Fox ? " 
 inquired Mr. Wilmington without looking up from 
 his plate. Like many of the descendants of Friends, 
 he was apt to talk to those still of the society in 
 Friends' language. 
 
 The soldier looked up at Mrs. Westerley, and 
 replied demurely, " I have some dim memory of 
 having heard it described when I was well, rather 
 young ; but as a rule, thee knows it is not largely 
 cultivated in Twelfth Street meeting." 
 
 " Well," continued the old gentleman, still peck- 
 ing at the minutest amount of dinner on which life 
 could be sustained, "well, when thee gets some 
 one in command who can play poker, I think Mr. 
 Lee will have to go home and go to work." 
 
 " How much better," said Wendell, gayly, " to 
 have a competitive examination on poker, open to 
 grays and blues, and accept the result as ending 
 the war. General Lee " 
 
 " Pardon me, doctor, Mr. Lee," said Wilmington, 
 gravely. 
 
 Wendell did not care much whether Robert Lee 
 
 was given his titular rank or not, and on the whole 
 
 hated war talk ; but he returned, smiling, " Thanks ! 
 
 , Mr. Lee will be beaten, as Colonel Fox said, when 
 
 v we make up our minds to lose enough men in drawn 
 
 battles to leave us at last with more men than he 
 
 can meet."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 119 
 
 "Well," said Wilmington, tranquilly, "that is 
 poker." 
 
 "The illustration is faultless," laughed Fox, 
 " but it is n't war." 
 
 " No," answered Wendell ; " but it is the only 
 war a race like ours can wage, when it is fighting 
 against itself." 
 
 " Do you have all these theories in camp, 
 colonel ? " asked the widow. 
 
 " Oh, enough, and too many of them ; less now 
 than we had. But camp life is monotonous, and 
 even Mr. Wilmington's educational resource gets 
 played out, literally I may say, at times." 
 
 " Do you remember," said Wendell, " what one 
 of Marlborough's generals told the London alder- 
 man when he asked if fighting was n't hard work?" 
 
 " No," replied Fox. " What was it ? " 
 
 " The general declared it was n't very hard, be- 
 cause they fought every morning, and had all the 
 rest of the day to themselves." 
 
 " Delightful ! " cried Mrs. Westerley. Her doc- 
 tor was clearly coming on. 
 
 " Who can help wondering," said the colonel, 
 " what the alderman answered ! " 
 
 " That is the defect of most good stories," re- 
 plied Wendell. 
 
 " I wish that general could regulate our little 
 affair," returned Fox. " It is one day's fighting 
 and six weeks of chasseing east and west. Still, it 
 can end only one way, and it would n't be worth 
 while betting on as a matter of chance."
 
 120 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " I rather think we have all bet pretty heavily," 
 said Wilmington. " I 've bet a good deal before 
 in my day, but this time I bet more than I liked." 
 
 "Indeed?" exclaimed Wendell, with indiscre- 
 tion, and rather astonished. 
 
 Wilmington looked up, with a little of the tremu- 
 lousness of age in his face. " My boy Jack," he 
 said. Then he looked down at his plate, and there 
 was a brief but perceptible silence, which the widow 
 broke. 
 
 " Few have bet more heavily, few, indeed. I 
 should never have had the courage to bet anything 
 as nice as my friend Jack Wilmington." 
 
 Wilmington looked up at her with a faint smile 
 of pleasure. He smiled often, but never laughed. 
 
 " What I fear most," said Wendell, " is that 
 when we have conquered the South we shall have 
 an endless guerrilla warfare." 
 
 " Oh, no, no," replied Fox ; " the American 
 common sense will stop that. I don't fear guer- 
 \/ rilla warfare. The negroes will be the great ques- 
 tion." 
 
 " Yes," assented Mrs. Westerley. " It is hideous 
 to think of. One can't but pity the South." 
 
 " They should have thought of that before," mut- 
 tered Wilmington. 
 
 " Unluckily," said Wendell, " it will be quite as 
 much our business as theirs." 
 
 " Yes, exactly," answered the hostess. " Oh, 
 there is one of those horrid news-boys ! * Great 
 battle on the Potomac,' of course. Shall I send for 
 a paper ? "
 
 TN WAR TIME. 121 
 
 ** No, don't, my dear Mrs. Westerley," exclaimed 
 Wilmington. " I try to think as little as I can of 
 it all. In fact, I read the papers but once a week, 
 on Sunday." 
 
 " I wish," said Fox, " that all the editors could 
 be sent to the front." 
 
 " With all my heart," returned the widow ; " and 
 no doubt you would send the copperheads to rein- 
 force Lee, and so give me a chance of seeing it 
 all." 
 
 " No indeed ! A brigade of Mrs. Westerleys at 
 the rebel front would be fatal," cried Fox, laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 / ./" I should desert, or malinger, is n't that what 
 /you call shamming sick ? " she rejoined. " Gettys- 
 burg was quite near enough for me. I was in New 
 York, and do you know my man John buried all 
 the silver ; and to this day, if I complain of its 
 want of polish, he puts on an injured air, and says 
 it was ' all along of them rebels, ma'am.' I suppose 
 the excuse will last my time and his ! " 
 
 " I heard," said old Wilmington, wickedly, " that 
 you meant to make Mr. Lee's visit an excuse to 
 stay in New York." 
 
 " Now, that is one of Helen Morton's calumnies ! 
 I know by my own experience I mean that I 
 know of myself how little one's friends are to 
 be trusted ! However, I have one consolation : I 
 think I have abused her quite enough in the past 
 to leave me with a good balance in my favor." 
 
 " But no one believes your abuse," asserted the 
 colonel.
 
 122 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " And it was n't true, then ? " asked Wilming- 
 ton, peering under his lazy eyelids with a sense of 
 mild disapproval at the very comfortable dinner 
 the Quaker colonel was making. 
 
 " I did not say it was n't true," retorted Mrs. 
 Westerley, " and New York always is a temptation 
 to me." 
 
 " Then why do you stay here ? " said Wendell. 
 " To be able to go where you will, and to live where 
 you wish to live, seems to me the most desirable 
 of human liberties." 
 
 " Why do I live here ? Oh, because I am better 
 here." 
 
 " Morally better ? " asked the colonel. 
 
 " I decline to be catechised ! " she returned. " If 
 I were as good as Mr. Wilmington," she continued, 
 with malice in her eyes, " I would n't have to es- 
 cape temptation by change of residence." 
 
 " I knew my time would come," murmured that 
 little old gentleman, remembering with sly satisfac- 
 tion that he had been rather agreeably naughty in 
 his time, in many localities. 
 
 "As to Gettysburg," she resumed, "you were 
 all of you badly enough scared, men and women. 
 For my part, I never believed Lee would get to 
 Philadelphia, never ! " 
 
 " And why ? " said Wilmington, tumbling into 
 her trap. 
 
 "Why?" she continued. "Because, my dear 
 Mr. Wilmington, nothing unusual ever happens in 
 Philadelphia ; and that would have been very un-
 
 IN WAR TIME. 123 
 
 usual, therefore it could not happen. Is n't that 
 what you call a syllogism, Dr. Wendell?" 
 
 Every one laughed, and Wilmington exclaimed, 
 " You always were cross about Philadelphia." 
 
 " No, no," she said, " I like it, and it suits me ; 
 but now and then I do incline to go somewhere 
 else, just, you know, to recover a little my belief in 
 the possibility of the unexpected." 
 
 " Oh, that is too outrageous ! " laughed Fox. 
 14 As to New York, it is a pleasant casino, supported 
 by stock gambling." 
 
 " And is it true, Mrs. Westerley," said Wil- 
 mington, " that you told Morton that bad New / 
 Yorkers, when they die, go to Philadelphia." 
 
 " I ! " retorted the widow, " Impossible ! Some- 
 body in Boston said something like that about 
 Paris. But I always am maligned." 
 
 " I wish I had said it," returned Fox. 
 
 " And did it take you long to think of it ? " in- 
 quired the old gentleman. 
 
 " Oh, really," complained the widow, " I see it is 
 full time for me to leave you. I was never so 
 abused in my life ! " and while speaking she arose, 
 saying to Mr. Wilmington, as the old gentleman, 
 bowing low, held the door open, " You will take my 
 place, please ; and there are, I think, some ma- 
 deiras you may like. At least, I have done my 
 best for you! John, the cigars are in the side- 
 board. I will give you your coffee in the drawing- 
 room." 
 
 Then Mr. Wilmington shifted his seat to the
 
 124 72V WAR TIME. 
 
 place she had left, and the servant put in front of 
 him, on silver coasters, four or five tall, slender, 
 antique decanters. 
 
 The old gentleman, with his head on one side, 
 looked through massive gold eyeglasses at the sil- 
 ver labels, and very deliberately rearranging the bot- 
 tles, filled his glass, and passed the wine to "Wendell. 
 " With the sun, if you please," he said. " A little 
 cold, John, this wine," upon which, to Wendell's 
 amazement, he clasped the wine-glass in both hands, 
 and shut his eyes with a tranquil expression of such 
 utter satisfaction at the coming pleasure, and with 
 so much of a look of devotion, that the doctor con- 
 ceived for a moment the idea that nothing less than 
 a thankful prayer for a good dinner could be in the 
 old man's mind ; but presently he drank off his 
 wine, and remarked, " A good grape juice. '28, 1 
 think. I did n't suppose there was any of it left." 
 
 Wendell certainly found it good. 
 
 The second wine was dismissed with, " I would 
 n't advise you to take that. It wants a good fin- 
 ing, Colonel Fox." 
 
 The colonel was of like opinion. 
 
 " There is no label on this ; but women take no 
 care of their wines. Hem," he said, as he set 
 down his glass, " I remember that wine well. It is 
 precisely my own age. It 's getting just a little 
 shaky, like myself ; it is smoke ! No better wine, 
 Dr. Wendell ; do you know it ? " 
 
 "I can't say that I do," said WendeU, rather 
 puzzled at the appellation. " I know little or noth- 
 ing of wines."
 
 72V WAR TIME. 125 
 
 " Well," remarked Fox, " Mr. Wilmington is a 
 good instructor. I advise you to begin your edu- 
 cation." 
 
 " But what on earth is smoke ? " asked the doc- 
 tor. 
 
 "Don't you taste it?" returned Wilmington. 
 " There is no better madeira. I don't know many 
 as good. A little eggshell woidd help it." 
 
 "Yes, a little eggshell," repeated Fox, with 
 equal gravity. 
 
 " I am glad you still like it," exclaimed the old 
 gentleman ; " the taste is going out. I don't know 
 five lads who can tell sherry from a fine madeira. 
 My Jack says he likes cider. ' Likes cider,' 
 good heavens ! Will you take another glass, doc- 
 tor, or a cigar ? " 
 
 " Unless you want to be excommunicated vin- 
 ously," said Fox, laughing, " you can't drink after 
 you smoke ; " and so the cigars were brought and 
 there was more war talk, during which Fox slipped 
 away to chat with Mrs. Westerley, and the doctor 
 was left alone with Mr. Wilmington. 
 
 Wendell very soon found that any discussion 
 which did not involve wine talk was, at this stage 
 of the dinner, quite out of the question, and he 
 therefore wisely yielded, and as a consequence rose 
 many degrees in the old gentleman's favor. What 
 he learned as to wines it is perhaps not worth 
 while to inquire. " And when I say wines," said 
 Mr. Wilmington, " I mean madeiras, sir. There are 
 other drinks ; but excepting now and then a rare
 
 126 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 claret, a very rare claret, there are no wines 
 except madeira. None, sir ! " said the old gentle- 
 man, with unusual warmth, " none, sir ! " 
 
 He talked of wines as people talk of other people, 
 of their vices or virtues, their births and decays. 
 His dinners were gossips about wines. Such was 
 the fashion of his day, and he and a very few old 
 friends held to it with the tenacity of age. The 
 friends were dropping fast, but the wines remained, 
 and through them more than in any other way 
 were aroused his pleasantest memories of departed 
 feasts and the comrades at whom he had smiled 
 above some golden south side vintage, in days when 
 manners were more courtly and healths were 
 drunk. 
 
 At last, when Wendell timidly remarked that 
 all this care about wines must take up a good deal 
 of time, Mr. Wilmington said, " Yes. It was quite 
 true; they were like women and needed a good 
 deal of attention, and that was just why Morton's 
 wines had all gone to the devil. And a very pretty 
 cellar he might have had, too, if he had only looked 
 after it." 
 
 Sunday afternoon, he added, he himself had found 
 a good quiet time to see to his madeiras ; and, as 
 Wendell learned later, any Sunday the old gentle- 
 man was to be found in his wine garret, contem- 
 plative and surrounded by demijohns, and egg- 
 shells, and what not. 
 
 At last, in despair, Wendell suggested that, as 
 the afternoon was wearing on, they might as well
 
 IN WAR TIME. 127 
 
 have their coffee ; upon which Mr. Wilmington re- 
 luctantly finished his glass, saving, " Well, I shall 
 get you to dine with me, when Morton mends. I 
 would like you to taste my pale heriot. That is 
 very high up, sir, very high up." 
 
 Just before they joined Mrs. Westerley, the 
 colonel had said, " I do not believe you were really 
 afraid." 
 
 "No, I was not afraid. I suppose I am like 
 your raw recruits : want of experience makes them 
 courageous. I can't realize the horrors of war. 
 Were you ever afraid, Colonel Fox ? A stupid ques- 
 tion, I suppose ; but were you ever, now, really? " 
 
 "Yes," he replied softly, "once or twice of 
 you." 
 
 The widow flushed a little, and was glad as she 
 heard the coming steps of her other guests. 
 
 " I mean you know what I mean, in war," she 
 said. 
 
 "Yes," he answered, quietly, "I have been so 
 afraid, Mrs. Westerley, I have prayed God to 
 help me." 
 
 "Oh," she murmured, under her breath, "you 
 are a brave man to say it." 
 
 " There are things a man will say to a woman 
 to some women which he will say to no man," he 
 rejoined. 
 
 " And you go back to-morrow ? " she exclaimed, 
 hastily. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 At this moment Mr. Wilmington and Wendell
 
 128 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 entered the room. " Oh, at last, doctor ! " she said, 
 " I thought you were never coming. Won't you 
 ring that bell in the corner? But here is John, 
 already ! Coffee, John, if you please."
 
 IX. 
 
 THEN came the mild days of the Indian summer, 
 and to the surprise of every one Colonel Morton 
 continued to improve, and was at last sitting up 
 and riding out, to the great triumph of his doctor 
 and the endless happiness of Ann Wendell. The 
 doctor was also prospering otherwise, and seemed 
 on the tide which leads to fortune those who know 
 how to take it. 
 
 With her husband's gain in health there came 
 back to Mrs. Morton her old habits of outside ac- 
 tivity. To him she was always compliant, quietly 
 yielding, remembering his wants and ways ; in fact, 
 quite too much prone to forget herself, and to exact 
 from all others of her household a like self-efface- 
 ment, where he was concerned. Years before, she 
 had fought her battle for such individual freedom 
 of thought and action as should belong to every 
 woman, and had lost it, lost it, with the repeat- 
 edly acquired conviction that there was for herself 
 and all who were dear to her less sacrifice in los- 
 ing than in winning. Perhaps she was right ; more 
 probably, as Alice Westerley thought, she was alto- 
 gether wrong. The widow detested but endured 
 Colonel Morton, and it was quite characteristic of 
 her that, despite her almost indomitable tendency
 
 130 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 to jest with and at everything in life, neither with 
 him, nor with any one whom she did not like, did 
 she ever exhibit herself in her true character. 
 
 At New Year's time the doctor was pleased to 
 find with the check for his account a second and 
 much larger one from Mrs. Morton, with a note 
 which made the little household more than happy ; 
 but at the same time he began to see clearly that 
 he was to lose, for a season at least, his very profit- 
 able patient. The colonel had reached a certain 
 stage in recovery, but did not get beyond it ; and 
 Dr. Lagrange and a far higher authority had de- 
 cided that he must leave home, and avoid the ill-hu- 
 mored weather of the later winter and the spring. 
 He hated the idea; but although he knew well 
 enough that compliance was wise, it was not in the 
 man to yield without an unreasoning struggle. 
 
 "And I am to be carried about the world in 
 search of health, Helen ! " he exclaimed, when this 
 decree of his advisers was made clear to him. " And 
 where the mischief am I to go to ? " 
 
 " Dr. Lagrange says the West Indies or Europe," 
 replied Mrs. Morton. 
 
 " I don't see why I cannot be let alone." 
 
 " You could, my dear, but it would n't be wise. 
 Dr. Lagrange and Dr. Wendell both agree about 
 your going away." 
 
 " Confound the doctors ! I believe I should have 
 done much better without them." 
 
 " Oh, John ! " 
 
 " And who 's to arrange it all ? And how the
 
 IN WAR TIME. 131 
 
 deuce is that poor devil of a broken-down Ned to 
 wander all over Europe ? " 
 
 " We won't wander, John ; and I was thinking 
 that perhaps perhaps Edward might be willing 
 to stay with Dr. Wendell. I have talked to him 
 about it, and I think it might be managed." 
 
 " Oh, I suppose so," said her husband. He de- 
 tested this easy mode of removing the obstacles he 
 was placing in the way. 
 
 " A pretty time Ned will have, Helen, with that 
 Puritan old maid and her self-sufficient brother ! " 
 
 " He has served you well, John. You owe him 
 much." 
 
 " Oh, of course, of course ! That 's his business. 
 I hate all this fuss about doctors. It is so thor- 
 V oughly feminine." 
 
 " Well, John, you shall have it your own way. 
 What would you suggest ? " 
 
 " Suggest ? I have nothing to suggest. It seems 
 to me that I am always the last person to be con- 
 sidered, in this household." 
 
 "Well, then, suppose Ned should go to Alice. 
 She would be very glad to have him, I am sure. 
 How would that answer ? " 
 
 " What, live with that woman ! Take care ; you 
 shook my knee, Helen." 
 
 Then Mrs. Morton said, her eyes filling, despite 
 long years of self-control and her knowledge that a 
 large part of all this evil-mindedness was the effect 
 of illness, " Well, my dear husband, we shall try to 
 make it easy for you; only don't worry me any 
 more."
 
 132 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " Have I worried you ? " lie asked. 
 
 " Yes, you have worried me." 
 
 "Arrange it your own way, then; but don't 
 make me discuss these endless questions." 
 
 " No, dear." 
 
 After this, Mrs. Morton said very little to her 
 husband, and went on, as was her way, with some- 
 times a rather needless amount of energy, to make 
 her preparations for a long absence from home. 
 There were many talks with Mrs. Westerley and 
 much counsel with Mr. Wilmington, on whose 
 shrewd, quiet good sense Helen Morton greatly de- 
 pended. Then, as I have said, her broken habits 
 of a life of active thinking and doing for others 
 had again become possible, and as usual, whenever 
 her husband grew better, she began to concern her- 
 self anew in the plans and lives of those about her. 
 This had always been her way. To what school 
 her farmer's children went, whether they knew 
 their catechism, what the local sanitary commission 
 had been about in her long absence, and whether 
 this or that dependent wore warm enough under- 
 clothing or not, were by no means unimportant 
 matters to Helen Morton. There was a strong fla- 
 vor of kindliness in all her forth-putting life, but its 
 constant vigilance was sometimes an infliction on 
 the victims of her good offices. She liked her own 
 way, and generally had it, save only as regarded 
 Morton, and, as Alice Westerley said, " She takes 
 her revenge on the rest of us in a system of des- 
 potic philanthropy." In fact, nothing but obstinate
 
 IN WAR TIME. 133 
 
 resistance ever conquered her combination of sweet- 
 tempered interference and gentle good manners. 
 There was one other rebel of her household, beside 
 her husband ; Edward did and said what he liked, 
 his independence being largely due to her own in- 
 tense and admiring affection, now made yet more 
 patient and tender by his delicate health. She 
 had consulted, in his case, a dozen doctors, and, 
 mother-like, was pleased with none, because none 
 could be found to promise the impossible ; so that 
 at last she had given up all further effort, a con- 
 clusion rare enough for her. 
 
 " You will kill yourself, Helen, before you leave 
 home," Alice Westerley said to her, one morning. 
 The widow sat in front of a roaring wood fire in 
 Mrs. Morton's sitting-room. Her feet rested on 
 the brass fender, and as she spoke she looked at 
 them, and approved of them. They were pretty 
 feet, and were beautifully shod, and she very well 
 knew that she had not been alone in her appre- 
 ciation. Mrs. Morton sat at a Chippendale table, 
 covered with papers and account-books. 
 
 " No, I like the work," she replied. " It enables 
 me to forget a good deal, which, as I have well , , 
 learned, dear, it is quite wise to forget. Don't you 
 think it is one of our great miseries that we have 
 no exacting work which we must do, in the way a 
 man's work has to be done ? " 
 
 " I don't think you need complain of that, Helen ! 
 It seems to me that you have quite enough. If you 
 had, or imagined you had, any more, you could not
 
 134 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 manage at all. For my part, I hate work ! I don't 
 like even to sew, or do fancy work ! " 
 
 " I do not see how you stand it, Alice ! " 
 
 " We are pretty much alike as to that. It tires 
 
 / me to look at you. You are never still. I dare 
 
 say I think as much. In fact, everything in life 
 
 interests me, but I do not bother myself about 
 
 other folks' lives, as you do." 
 
 " I can't help it." 
 
 "I really suppose you can't. How cold it is! 
 The thermometer was at thirty degrees, this morn- 
 ing. I wish I liked cold weather." 
 
 " For me it is the best of all tonics. But, good 
 gracious, Alice, why do you wear such thin stock- 
 ings?" 
 
 " To look the nicer, my dear." 
 
 " Some day you will die of consumption, if you 
 are not more careful," observed Mrs. Morton, who 
 was given to grim anticipations as to the future 
 of those who despised her counsels. "You never 
 would take advice ! Now if you really would con- 
 sider it, I should like to give you, dear, a very seri- 
 ous piece of advice. You would n't take it, I am 
 sure, or you would laugh at it, which is worse ; but 
 that you do at everything." 
 
 " Ah, my dear Helen," said Alice, " when one 
 has so soft a heart as I have, some kind of armor 
 is needful for defense, and mirth is mine. I find 
 it very useful. And as to advice, dear, do you ever 
 think that you sometimes may, in your real good- 
 ness of heart, give an over-dose of that valuable
 
 IN WAR TIME. 135 
 
 drug ? I am a little like Arty about that. If you 
 advised me, Helen, as much as you do that sweet 
 boy, I I don't know what I should do. Do you 
 never hate a clock for so persistently telling you 
 what time it is, I mean exactly what time it is ? " 
 
 " How absurd you are, Alice ! " 
 
 "Perhaps so," assented the widow, who was a 
 little uneasy as to the possible nature of the threat- 
 ened advice. " But here comes Hester Gray, across 
 the lawn," she added, with a sense of relief. 
 
 " Yes ; I asked the doctor to let her spend the 
 day with us. How glad the boys will be ! I think 
 I never saw a young girl I liked so much. But 
 what a pity it is that she should grow up with that 
 very definite old maid ! " 
 
 " I rather like Miss Wendell," Mrs. Westerley 
 replied. 
 
 " You like anybody a week at a time," returned 
 her friend, laughing, " anybody ! " 
 
 "And some, longer, dear." 
 
 "Yes; I, at least, have no cause of complaint, 
 Alice," and she patted her affectionately on the 
 knee. " But, Alice, this child troubles me. I think 
 I shall write to her people in the South, and get 
 Mr. Stanton to send the letter through the lines ; 
 and yet I cannot expect any answer. She is an or- 
 phan. She says that she has no uncles or aunts, 
 and, so far as I can see, is going to be left on the 
 hands of the doctor. I was rather surprised, last 
 week, when Morton asked me what had become of 
 her. He does n't interest himself much in such
 
 136 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 waifs, as a rule. I was thinking I might send her 
 to some good school." 
 
 " I don't see why you should not. But how on 
 earth are you to attend to it ? " 
 
 " I thought I might break it to the Wendells, 
 and" 
 
 "Break it!" exclaimed her friend. "What is 
 there to break?" 
 
 " Oh, nothing," said Mrs. Morton, " except that 
 Hester really must go to school. I fancy the doc- 
 tor has grown fond of the child ; and as for Miss 
 Wendell, she has a genius for opposition." 
 
 Alice Westerley smiled a little. "That isn't 
 rare as a talent, but it does n't often reach to the 
 level of genius ! However, if they agree to it, I 
 will arrange the practical part of it after you leave 
 us. I ought to have thought of it myself, I am 
 sure. You see I do not always reject advice. Does 
 Colonel Morton have any feeling still, or did he 
 ever have any, about that poor fellow's charge that 
 he shot him ? I was thinking about it yesterday." 
 
 " I don't know. John is rather reticent, and it 
 is so hard to be sure what men do think ! I should 
 have no reason to suspect that he ever felt it at all 
 except for what I just spoke of, his interest in 
 the girl. It is unusual for John." 
 
 " Has he ever seen her ? " 
 
 " Two or three times only, I believe, since he has 
 been up and about." 
 
 " It would be a droll thing for a man like your 
 husband to entertain any such morbid idea."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 137 
 
 " Yes, I think so. But here is Hester ; " and so 
 saying, Mrs. Morton raised the long window sash, 
 and the young girl, glowing with the rough buffets 
 of a northwester, came in, and with her a gust of 
 cold, frosty air. 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Morton, it was so hard to walk 
 against the wind ! It did blow so ! " 
 
 Then both ladies kissed the girl, while her bon- 
 net was taken off, and the shapely little head 
 showed, with its coil of yellow hair, fast darkening 
 year by year, above eyes of deep blue, whose size, 
 as yet too great for the face, gave them a look of 
 unnatural attentiveness. 
 
 " How you grow, child ! " said Mrs. Westerley. 
 
 Hester, like most children, had heard this remark 
 before. "Yes," she said; "but Dr. Wendell says 
 that I ought soon to grow sideways, too, and Miss 
 Ann thinks I must have longer gowns. Do you 
 think they are too short, Mrs. Morton ? They are 
 awfully in my way now, when I climb trees or 
 coast." 
 
 " They are not one bit too short," remarked the 
 widow, cheerfully, wishing she too could go coast- 
 ing. 
 
 "And I think," said Mrs. Morton, "that Miss 
 Ann is quite right. I will speak to her about it." 
 
 "Oh, there is Edward!" cried the child, 
 "and Arthur!" 
 
 " I think I should say Mr. Edward,' " returned 
 Mrs. Morton. " Don't you remember our talk last 
 week?"
 
 138 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Mrs. Westerley smiled, though she made no 
 comment. The girl replied, " But he said I must 
 call him ' Edward.' " 
 
 " You must n't mind what young men say, my 
 dear, and What do you want, boys? " 
 
 " Oh," cried Arthur, " we want Hester to coast ! 
 The hills are grand." 
 
 " It is very cold." 
 
 " Oh, let her come, mother ! " exclaimed Ed- 
 ward; and not waiting a reply, he said, "Come 
 along, Hester. I can't coast, but I can look on." 
 
 "Well, if you wish it, Ned," said his mother. 
 " Get my fur cloak, and wrap her up well ; " and 
 with this the younger pair sped away, Edward 
 slowly and gravely walking after them, a faint sad- 
 ness in his eyes as he watched their fleet move- 
 ments. Presently they stopped, and coming back 
 the girl asked Edward, "Don't you think if you 
 put a hand on my shoulder you might go easier? 
 It is very slippery." 
 
 The young man smiled, and, doing as she de- 
 sired, said, " I am like an old man-of-war with two 
 little eager tugs. Did you ever see a picture of the 
 [/old Tdmeraire ? I feel like the old Teme*raire. I 
 will show it to you, Pussy." Then he went on in 
 silence, while the girl's tender eyes turned up to 
 -/his at times with gentle, womanly consciousness of 
 her helpful strength. 
 
 Wendell had builded his opinions about Hester 
 better than he knew, and was right for wrong 
 reasons. He believed, and truly, that the protec-
 
 IN WAR TIME. 139 
 
 tion and advice of Mrs. Morton were good for 
 Hester. He was learning that the friendliness of 
 the lads and Colonel Morton's interest were of use 
 to her. Ann Wendell found it hard, as yet im- 
 possible, to do more than care for the child's health 
 and lessons. Love, and even liking, grew slowly 
 with her. A few, a finely moulded few, among 
 middle-aged un wedded women have the ready hos- 
 pitality of affection which comes to many married 
 women as a natural acquisition. Most of all is 
 this true of single women who live much alone, 
 as did Ann Wendell, who felt now, while she ac- 
 cepted her new care, and a care it was, that 
 she should at least be left to control it as her con- 
 science advised. Her sense of the child's probable 
 future was definite, as Ann's views usually were, 
 and inclined her to train the girl by endurance 
 for a life of self-sustaining labor. Nor could she 
 see that social sunshine and young companions 
 were necessary to the growth of a nature which 
 had a ready pleasure in all the pleasant things of 
 life, and which would best get from the summer of 
 joy the strength to battle with such wintry storms 
 as life might bring. 
 
 The young people went slowly down the garden 
 walks, halting a moment at the sun-dial, which for 
 a century had kept noiseless note of time among 
 the tall, clipped box rows. 
 
 " Yes, I should like to see the picture," rejoined 
 Hester, " and I will remind you, and what is 
 that, Mr. Edward?"
 
 140 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " A sun-dial, Miss Gray. Why on earth should 
 I be * Edward ' and ' Ned ' yesterday, and ' Mr. 
 Edward 'to-day?" 
 
 " Mrs. Morton says I must n't call you ' Ed- 
 ward.' " 
 
 " Nonsense ! No, I don't mean that. I will 
 speak to mamma about it. I suppose Arty is not 
 promoted." 
 
 " What ? I don't understand." 
 
 " I mean, he is still to be Arty ? I can tell you 
 I won't stand that ! " 
 
 " And did you never see a sun-dial ? " exclaimed 
 Arthur. 
 
 " No, never ; but I have heard of them." 
 
 " My grandfather set it here when he came home 
 after the war, and I dare say Washington has seen 
 it, and old mad Anthony Wayne." 
 
 " It tells what o'clock it is," said Hester. 
 
 " Yes. See ! it is twelve now." 
 
 " But when the sun is hid, it can't tell then ! " 
 cried the girl, triumphantly. 
 
 " No," coincided Arthur. " It goes to sleep just 
 as you do." 
 
 " How nice ! " returned Hester, musingly. " I 
 think I like a sun-dial." 
 
 " Non numero horas, etc.," said Edward. 
 
 "Like Mrs. Westerley," laughed Arthur. 
 " Come along, Hester ; that 's Latin, and you have 
 no business with it. I hope you never will." 
 
 " Tell her your lines about the dial, Arty." 
 
 "No, sir."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 141 
 
 " Please do, Arty." 
 
 " No ! A-coasting we go ; and when I go a-coast- 
 ing, I go a-coasting. But, Hester," he said aside, 
 " some time I will." The ready little woman 
 smiled, well pleased, and presently the two sleds 
 were speeding down the long coasting-hill, where by 
 and by Mrs. Westerley came, and to the lads' im- 
 mense delight was persuaded to try it once with 
 Arthur, and was soon the youngest of the party, 
 until, as she toiled up the hill glowing and joyous, 
 she chanced to notice the elder lad painfully shift- 
 ing his station as he leaned against a tall tulip 
 poplar, and looked with a certain gravity at the 
 wild career of the gliding cutters. 
 
 " Not tired ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes. I 'm an old woman, you know.'* 
 
 ;t I wish I felt myself as young a man," he re- 
 plied, smiling, as he glanced with admiration at her 
 straight, active figure and frank face. 
 
 " Oh, we shall get you well," she said. '' Don't 
 think about it, Ned." 
 
 " Yes, I know, of course. I try not to think of 
 it, and sometimes life is so strong in me that I be- 
 lieve I shall yet be as other men ; but I never shall 
 be, never! And last night, Mrs. Westerley, I 
 dreamed You don't mind my telling you? 
 Father says it is bad manners to tell your dreams." 
 
 "Oh, my dear Ned, what an old-fashioned no- 
 tion ! Go on. What was it ? " 
 
 "I dreamed I was riding into the thick of a 
 great fight behind Colonel Fox, what that dear
 
 142 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 i/ 
 
 old Kingsley calls a melley, and shots were fly- 
 ing, and I was riding, riding like mad, for a rebel 
 flag ; and then I had it, and the thought came over 
 me, as I broke through the lines, ' Oh, what will 
 mother say now ! ' And then I woke and my 
 God, I cried ! " 
 
 " And you have made me cry, too, Ned. I wish 
 I could help you ! But perhaps God has other 
 work for you in life than this ; who knows, Ned ? " 
 
 "Who, indeed?" he said. Then she grasped 
 his hand, dropped it, and was silent. She was a 
 woman who thought less about her words than her 
 actions, and in whose life the undercurrents of ten- 
 ^ derness and reverent feeling were strong, and the 
 purer for the rarity with which they came to the 
 surface. 
 
 Not the wisest sermon could have helped him 
 like her few words, and the man-like grip, which 
 filled him with a wholesome sense of being under- 
 stood by a nature as noble as his own. 
 
 At last he mastered himself. He had been afraid 
 to speak. " Thank you," he said. " How you help 
 a fellow ! Arty, my poet, says that you are just 
 like the sun : you can never see the shadows." 
 
 " Oh, did he say that ? I shall kiss him some 
 time for that ! How well he looks ! I mean," she 
 added, quickly correcting herself, "how hand- 
 some ! They make a charming couple." 
 
 "I don't think him handsome," Edward returned, 
 " but he has a strong face ; and as to that child, 
 she is just the sweetest little person I ever saw
 
 IN WAR TIME. 143 
 
 Don't you know, Mrs. Westerley, how sometimes, 
 on bleak days, you wander into the sun, and sud- 
 denly feel just comfortable, and you hardly think 
 why for a time ? That is the way I feel when that 
 child is about." 
 
 Mrs. Westerley reflected a little. There could 
 hardly be a nicer girl," she returned ; " but she 
 does need a little forming." 
 
 "Now that's mother, Mrs. "Westerley; that's 
 mother all over." 
 
 Oh, I think so, too ! I do, indeed." 
 
 " Bother the forming ! " said Edward. " Let 's 
 go in to lunch. Now come along, steam-tugs, 
 one to starboard, one to port ! " And laughing and 
 chaffing one another, they went into the house.
 
 " AND so," said Colonel Morton to his younger 
 son, " I understand that you have kindly consented 
 to go to Europe with us, for six months, and that 
 then you propose not to go to Harvard. How old 
 are you, please ? " 
 
 " Eighteen, sir, last March." 
 
 " And you intend, I am told, in six months, to 
 take command of the Potomac army." 
 
 " I want to enter as a private." 
 
 " Bless me, you are modest ! " 
 
 Arthur flushed. He and his father were never 
 altogether in accord. The lad had his father's 
 resolute will, and far more than his intelligence. 
 
 "I thought," he said, "until quite lately, that 
 you would like it, sir. We have had somebody in 
 every war, and I would n't like to grow up and feel 
 that neither Ned nor I had had a share in this one ; 
 and Ned can't go, you know." 
 
 "Yes, I know. He has got that confounded 
 Irving constitution, no stuff in it ! What the 
 deuce do you want to go into the army for ? " 
 
 " Excuse me, father, but why did you ? " 
 
 " Upon my word, I don't know ! I rather think 
 I was bored, in this enchantingly wide - awake 
 town."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 145 
 
 " And you won't say I must not go, father? " 
 
 " No, you young stupid. Your mother will have 
 a horrible time over it ; but really, I suppose it is 
 a matter of breed, and I might as well tell my 
 pointer Joe not to stand at a pheasant. The next 
 thing you would go, whether I liked it or not." 
 
 " No, I would not." 
 
 " Then you would n't be your father's son. Why 
 do you always contradict me ? " 
 
 " But I don't." 
 
 " Yes, you do. What else are you doing now ? 
 If this war lasts, I will write to Stanton, or the 
 governor, and get you a commission ; but remem- 
 ber, sir, no nonsense about going into the ranks. 
 There, your mother wants you to drive her over to 
 the doctor's. Take Bessie, and don't lame her, and 
 see that she is roughed." 
 
 " Yes, sir, and thank you." 
 
 " Oh, you need n't thank me ! " And the boy 
 left him, feeling half satisfied, and, as was usual 
 after a talk with his father, a good deal hurt. 
 
 " He is worth all the rest of the lot," soliloquized 
 the colonel. " I felt as if I were looking into a 
 mirror." 
 
 Mrs. Westerley would have said, and with rea- 
 son, that the colonel flattered himself. Colonel 
 Morton had, in fact, made up his mind, before the 
 boy spoke of it, that he should have his way ; and 
 that it would be a sore trial to the lad's mother 
 was, he also felt, perfectly natural, but practically 
 a matter to be disregarded. If he had been asked
 
 146 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 why his son should enter on a perilous career at 
 eighteen, he probably would have said and thought 
 that people of a certain position were pledged 
 thereby to do certain things, one of these being to 
 fight. 
 
 Meanwhile, the object of his parental reflections 
 was driving Bessie, in a neat sleigh, at a rate to 
 which the father would certainly have demurred, 
 and at which the portly mother, coiled up in furs be- 
 side him, was more or less disturbed. By and by 
 he pulled up a little, and found time to talk over 
 his plans. 
 
 " Father says that you won't like my going into 
 the army, mother ; but you won't say I must not ? 
 You know I would have to stay, then, and I ought 
 to go. Jack Wilmington is only a year older than 
 lam." 
 
 " But he has no mother." 
 
 " Worse luck for him. I have one who knows 
 where a man's duty lies, in these days." 
 
 Mrs. Morton felt this to be a little artful, but, 
 nevertheless, she liked it, and six months made up 
 a long time. Europe was far away, and it is one 
 thing to say yes for to-morrow, and quite another 
 to say yes for six months off. She glanced at the 
 boy's side face, and, noting its stern and powerful 
 outline and its look of intense earnestness, said 
 with some gravity, " It is it will be hard, Arthur ; 
 but I never disagree with your father, though it 
 seems a great sacrifice." 
 
 " But I don't mean to be a sacrifice," returned
 
 IN WAR TIME. 147 
 
 her son ; " not to the Johnny Rebs, anyhow. 
 Thank you, mother," and, leaning over, he kissed 
 her. 
 
 " You foolish boy ! you have put my bonnet all 
 awry." 
 
 " Yes, ma'am," said the lad, well pleased. 
 
 Then they flew along the main street, and Bessie 
 was pulled up at the doctor's door. 
 
 " Send Hester out, mother. Please don't for- 
 get ! " So presently Hester came forth, laughing, 
 in a gray fur hood of Miss Ann's, and was whisked 
 along up lanes and by-roads at a rate which took 
 her breath away ; and was told the sun-dial verses 
 and many others, and about the war, which con- 
 cerned her more. 
 
 " And you might be killed ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes," he replied, "I might, but I won't. We 
 have had all our ill luck already, and I may come 
 back a general. No, I don't mean that, but per- 
 haps a colonel." 
 
 " I won't be satisfied unless you are a colonel. 
 I like colonels. I saw Colonel Fox, and I like 
 him." 
 
 " But I won't have you liking any colonel but 
 me, and here we are at home, again. Stay with 
 me till mother comes out." 
 
 " But I ought to go in." 
 
 " Don't go ! I will tell you stories ; " and the 
 young fellow whose fertile brain was full of Arthur 
 and his knights, and Roland and what not, held 
 the little lady tranced in the pleasant country of
 
 
 
 148 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Romance, while within their elders discussed her 
 future life. 
 
 It so happened that while Mrs. Morton drove 
 over from her own home, Ann Wendell had been 
 sitting up-stairs, with her sewing in her lap, think- 
 ing a good deal, as was her wont, about her brother 
 and his affairs ; and a good deal, too, of the orphan, 
 who seemed now to have been left to her care, with 
 little or no chance that any relatives in the South 
 would come forward to claim her as their own by 
 superior right of kindred. With characteristic 
 sense of duty, and of late with a vague feeling of 
 jealousy at her brother's sudden attachment to the 
 child, and yet with a kindly desire to please him in 
 this, as in all else, Ann had set herself sedulously 
 to see that she did not fail in the face of her novel 
 obligation. At any moment she would gladly have 
 been relieved of her task, but it had been put upon 
 her by a Providence, which for her overruled all 
 things, and she felt distinctly that she must answer 
 the call, and so leave nothing undone. 
 
 When she was a teacher she had always taken a 
 certain pride in the idea that she had some insight 
 into the characters of her pupils, and now she had 
 framed rather in haste a conception as to what 
 Hester was and what she needed. The child's ac- 
 curacy and exactness in her tasks, as well as her 
 notable conscientiousness, caused Ann to think that 
 she in some ways resembled herself, as in fact she 
 did, in these especial particulars ; but Ann had in 
 her own being no clew to the tangle we call charac-
 
 IN WAR TIME. 149 
 
 ter, and utterly lacked capacity to unravel into dis- 
 tinctiveness of appreciation its changing web and 
 woof. The intelligence of each year of growth is 
 commonly underrated by those who are called on 
 familiarly to observe it, and very few apprehend 
 the zones of change through which a clever girl, ap- 
 proaching womanhood, is apt to pass, or understand 
 that temporary displays of capriciousness, or melan- 
 choly, or irritability are only expressions of physi- 
 ological changes consistent with general healthy 
 growth. Indeed, Ann looked aghast when, on com- 
 plaining to her brother that Hester had been unman- 
 ageable for the last month or so, he said to her, 
 " My dear Ann, children have moral measles some- 
 times. Only let them alone, and they will get well ^-- 
 of themselves. There is a wise herb in the gar- 
 dens, Ann, and it is called Thyme." 
 
 Ann felt that she had not received any very 
 great assistance. In fact, Wendell saw one side of 
 the girl's character, and his sister another, and a 
 small one ; for this bright little crystal had many 
 facets. 
 
 Mrs. Morton was marveling, like Alice "Westerley 
 when she had paid her last visit, over the odd lit- 
 erature on the table. It had changed a little, for 
 Wendell often haunted the cloistral alcoves of the 
 old Franklin library on Fifth Street, and found a 
 pleasure in books which a generation or two had 
 left unread since James Logan had placed them 
 upon its shelves. 
 
 Ann Wendell, coming down from her room, re-
 
 150 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 ceived her guest quietly. She did not like her 
 overmuch, and was a little in awe of a woman who, 
 without quite knowing that she did it, patronized 
 her with such supreme gentleness, and yet with so 
 much sense of never asking anything but what 
 must be right. 
 
 " Won't you put off your cloak ? " said Ann. 
 
 " No, thank you ; I have only a moment to stay. 
 But excuse me who does read all these books, 
 and are you a Swedenborgian ? " 
 
 " No, I am not," replied Ann, severely. 
 
 " Oh, it must be your brother, then ? " 
 
 " He reads all sorts of things," said Ann, diplo- 
 matically ; and then, taking herself to task for lack 
 of exact truth, added, " My brother does not go to 
 the church of those people." 
 
 " Oh," said Mrs. Morton, with the feeling that 
 she had made a false step, "I suppose, not, of 
 course. It is such an absurd mysticism. I thought 
 I should like, before I go away, to talk to you a 
 little about Hester Gray. You won't mind it, will 
 you? You know we are all so very fond of her." 
 
 "Of course not; why should I?" said Miss 
 Wendell 
 
 " I have thought that I would write to her people 
 in the South, if you liked. We have ways of get- 
 ting letters through the lines, and if you think well 
 of it I can write to the cousin, Henry Gray, of 
 whom she speaks." 
 
 "I believe my brother has already done so," 
 said Ann ; " at least, he said that he would. He
 
 IN WAR TIME. 151 
 
 has n't much time now, and he forgets. I ought to 
 have asked him about it again." 
 
 " But even if he has written, it will be as well 
 that I also write." 
 
 " If you please ; but I don't think we shall hear, 
 and I begin to believe that the little girl will be 
 with us until the war is over." 
 
 " No doubt you must feel it somewhat of a bur- 
 den." 
 
 " It was the Lord's doing," returned Ann, " and 
 I try to see that it is my duty to take care of her." 
 She would not say that it was not a burden. 
 
 " But still it must be a care. I think that the 
 whole weight ought not to fall on you, and that, if 
 it be agreeable to you and to the doctor, I might 
 send her to Miss Pearson's school, on Long Isl- 
 and." 
 
 " You are very kind," replied Ann, " but I teach 
 her myself ; and if I let her go away I should feel 
 as if I had thrust aside what God had sent me. I 
 should n't consider it to be quite right. At least, 
 I don't think I should." 
 
 "But you can't teach her French, or drawing, 
 and she has a good deal of talent that way." 
 
 " I don't see that French is needful," returned 
 Ann. " I have never found any use for it." 
 
 "And yet she might," said Mrs. Morton. " And 
 then you will pardon me," she added, with sub- 
 lime indiscretion "but don't you think that as 
 she has been brought up an Episcopalian she ought 
 to go to the Episcopal church ? Now, at Miss 
 Pearson's"
 
 152 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Ann flushed a little, and sat up a trifle in her 
 chair. " No," she exclaimed, interrupting her vis- 
 itor, " what God gave, I am responsible for to Him. 
 I trust that in the essential matters of religion she 
 will not be found wanting. You are very kind, but 
 I cannot see it in your way. However," she added, 
 conscious that she was addressing not only a very 
 kind woman, but a valuable patient, " I will talk it 
 over with Ezra." 
 
 And then Mrs. Morton, put to rout, but by no 
 means defeated, resolved that she too would talk to 
 Ezra Wendell, and so went her way to the sleigh, 
 out of which the laughing Hester slipped as she 
 came. 
 
 Mrs. Morton's campaigns were usually brief, and 
 in one way or another decisive. She sent her 
 sleigh to the doctor's in the afternoon of the same 
 day, with a note to him, and desired her servant to 
 await a reply. Dr. Wendell chanced to be at home 
 when this message came. The note was only to 
 the effect that Mrs. Morton wanted to see him 
 about the colonel, and in a postscript there was 
 added, Would he be sure to bring Hester, as Mrs. 
 Morton had a present for her, a fur jacket, 
 and she wished to have it tried on, to see if it fitted. 
 
 Wendell knew that he must again, for the hun- 
 dredth time, summon the girl from Ann's schooling. 
 
 "Ann," he called at the foot of the stairs, 
 " Ann, come down a moment ! " 
 
 "What is it, brother?" she cried, tripping 
 lightly down the staircase, and looking, as Wendell 
 noticed, very bright and welL
 
 IN WAR TIME. 158 
 
 " Why, Ann, you come down as if you were fif- 
 teen," he exclaimed ; " and how good-looking you 
 grow ! " 
 
 " It 's the good honest Yankee winter we have 
 had, Ezra. But what is it? The child is at her 
 lessons. I must go back to her. She does them 
 so well that it is getting to be quite a pleasure to 
 me. What is it ? " 
 
 " I have a note from Mrs. Morton. There, read 
 it, dear ; and I am really sorry, Ann. I did mean 
 to respect your hours, but I suppose this time she 
 must go." 
 
 Ann's face rarely betrayed emotion. Her stern 
 orthodox New England training had taught her 
 such restraint of emotion as saved the features ha- 
 bitually from telling her secret thoughts. What- 
 ever was, be it small or great, was to be endured. 
 If there was little laughter in her life, there were 
 also few tears. But now, if ever, she was very 
 angry. She saw defeat in the distance, and knew 
 that she must yield, and somehow be made to show 
 a semblance of being grateful; and she also felt 
 that Mrs. Morton's note was deceitful, and for her- 
 self there was no big or little in this matter of 
 truthfulness. These thoughts went swiftly through 
 her mind, and she hesitated a moment. 
 
 "I should like," she said, "to talk to you before 
 you go. Mrs. Morton was here to-day, and " 
 
 " But, sister," he returned, " I have to meet Dr. 
 James in an hour, and I must go to Mrs. Mor- 
 ton's first, and her horses are waiting in the cold 
 We can talk to-night."
 
 154 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Ann felt that to-night would be too late. 
 
 " Very well," she replied, rather shortly for her, 
 " I will send her down to you ; " and she went up- 
 stairs, feeling that life was being made quite too 
 hard. 
 
 Wendell and Hester found Mrs. Morton and 
 Mrs. Westerley in the drawing-room, enjoying the 
 cup of tea which Mrs. Morton well knew the doctor 
 liked. After a few words in regard to the colonel 
 and his coming voyage, they drew together about 
 the fire. Then the boys were heard calling Hes- 
 ter ; but Mrs. Morton said, "No, I want Hester 
 myself, Edward. Come back in half an hour." 
 
 " And what 's up now ? " asked Arthur. 
 
 " Better ask," observed Edward. 
 
 " Not I, Ned ; " and they went away from the 
 door. 
 
 " I have been having a chat with Miss Ann to- 
 day," said Mrs. Morton ; " a talk about my friend 
 Hester, here." The girl looked up, sudddenly cu- 
 rious, and feeling a new importance. " We did not 
 quite agree, but I think we shall. I am anxious 
 that Hester should go to Miss Pearson's school on 
 Long Island. I know Miss Pearson well, and the 
 school is all we could desire. Colonel Morton also 
 wishes it, and we both desire to have the pleasure 
 of helping you and Miss Ann in this way." 
 
 Wendell's heart sank within him. He was 
 growing to love the small person at his side with a 
 deep and strange tenderness, the strength of which 
 discovered itself to him now abruptly, as he heard
 
 IN WAR TIME. 155 
 
 of the possibility of her being taken out of his life. 
 He looked down at the child, and up at Mrs. 
 Morton. 
 
 " Do you think it really necessary ? " 
 
 " I do. There are many reasons for it, many." 
 She did not state them all, nor did she choose to 
 do so. "However well able Miss Ann may be 
 to teach her, there are things which she cannot 
 teach. You of course know what I mean. Then, 
 Miss Ann was not well last fall ; and even if she is 
 better now, the burden of Hester's lessons will be 
 felt some time, and then we shall be away, and it 
 will be past remedy. So you see how desirable it 
 is. Colonel Morton wished me to say to you that 
 he felt that, having in a measure promised her 
 father to see after the girl, he thought a share of 
 the responsibility of her care lay with us, and that 
 as we can well afford it we should have some part 
 in providing for her." 
 
 Wendell was perplexed. It did not sound much 
 like the colonel. 
 
 "What do you think, Mrs. Westerley?" he in- 
 quired. " You will pardon me, Mrs. Morton, if I 
 ask." 
 
 The doctor was learning socially a good deal, 
 and was a very different person from the Ezra 
 Wendell we first knew. 
 
 " Miss Pearson was my old school-mistress, and 
 is my friend," said Mrs. Westerley. " She is a 
 gentle, high-minded woman. If I were Hester, I 
 should like it well. Don't you think you will, 
 Hester?"
 
 156 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Hester had a good deal of the caution of clever 
 girlhood, the outcome of intelligence and inexperi- 
 ance. 
 
 "I don't know," she replied. "I like it at 
 home. Every one is so kind to me and and 
 you all, and Arty, and Mr. Edward." 
 
 " Well, go up-stairs," said Mrs. Morton, " and 
 ask my maid for a present I have for you, and put 
 it on, and then go and ask Arty how it looks." 
 
 "A present?" exclaimed Hester. "Oh, thank 
 you, Mrs. Morton ! " and left the room. 
 
 "We were thinking," continued Mrs. Morton, 
 " that if this girl has no relatives who will help her, 
 and has no fortune, as seems to be the case, a sim- 
 ple education, however sound, will be of little use 
 to her; while if she can become an accomplished 
 woman, she may be able to help herself, come what 
 may. Does n't that appear reasonable to you ? " 
 
 He had to confess that it did. 
 
 "She draws cleverly now, and reads French 
 well. It does seem to me, doctor, that a year at 
 Miss Pearson's, with what she could get afterwards 
 here, would be of lifelong value." 
 
 Wendell felt that his cause was lost. 
 
 " But my sister," he rejoined. 
 
 " I was thinking," returned Mrs. Westerley, 
 "that I would see her. Mrs. Morton is very 
 busy." 
 
 " If you would," he said. " I certainly shall do 
 all I can to help the girl in whatever way seems the 
 best, but Ann has her own ideas, as you will find."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 157 
 
 Mrs. Morton was well aware of this, but she 
 thought that she saw her way now, and was begin- 
 ning to feel that more obstacles than there was 
 need for were put in the way of her kind inten- 
 tions. 
 
 " I dare say that we shall make her come over 
 to our side, and Mrs. Westerley will see her. Few 
 people resist her." 
 
 This was very much Wendell's own opinion ; so 
 he thanked Mrs. Morton, finished his tea, and rose 
 to go, as Hester came in with the young men, look- 
 ing rosy and pretty in the little sealskin jacket, 
 which admirably set off her delicate complexion, in 
 which the color came and went so ceaselessly. 
 
 " And you have n't thanked me, Hester." 
 
 Hester kissed her. "The boys think I look 
 so nice," she said, and she turned herself around 
 for inspection. She was at that formless age of 
 girlhood when the face anticipates in development 
 the changes which yet are lacking in the frame ; 
 and now the heavy cloak hid what was as yet un- 
 graceful, so that both of the elder women exchanged 
 quiet glances of admiration at the girl's appearance. 
 
 Then Hester and Wendell, after a little laughing 
 chat, went away. 
 
 " I would like to take that girl to Newport, in 
 two or three years," said Mrs. Westerley. " But do 
 you ever think of what a tempting little personage 
 she is going to be, Helen ? Those boys of yours ! " 
 
 "Nonsense, Alice. Ned is out of the question, 
 and Arthur will possibly be away for years. I
 
 158 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 should as soon think of their falling in love with 
 you." 
 
 " But they both have," affirmed her friend, laugh- 
 ing. " However, remember that I have warned 
 you." 
 
 " If Dr. Wendell were a little more of a man of 
 the world, I should think you ran rather more risk 
 from him, Alice, than from my boys," returned 
 Mrs. Morton, smiling, but regarding Alice atten- 
 tively. 
 
 " I have seen enough of men of the world." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Mrs. Morton. 
 
 " Stuff, Helen ! you always misunderstand me ; " 
 but she had a queer sense of a suddenly widened 
 horizon of the possible. What had she said or 
 done to justify such a suspicion? "I must go," 
 she said. " Please order my ponies." 
 
 " I am afraid I have vexed you, Alice." 
 
 " Yes, you have vexed me." 
 
 " I did n't mean to." 
 
 " No, I dare say." 
 
 " And you will come over to-morrow ? If you 
 don't, I shall think you are angry." 
 
 " Yes, I '11 come. We have made too much of 
 it, and I will see that rosy-faced, impassive Ann 
 Wendell. Your account of her was immensely 
 / amusing. How can one live with such a con- 
 science ; I think they begin in childhood, in New 
 England, with girls' consciences, as the Chinese do 
 with their children's feet, until when they grow 
 up they can't stir, morally speaking, without dis- 
 comfort. I have no patience with them ! "
 
 XI. 
 
 MRS. WESTERLEY had less difficulty with Ann 
 Wendell than she had expected. She set forth, 
 quietly and distinctly, the need for an orphan, a 
 dependent orphan, to have some such education as 
 would fit her to sustain herself when the time came. 
 Then she sympathized with Ann as to the religious 
 aspect of the case, and at last won her somewhat 
 reluctant consent to Mrs. Morton's plan of sending 
 Hester to school. Hester was to go to Miss Pear- 
 son's, and she, Mrs. Westerley, would write at once 
 to that lady ; and here was a check, which Colonel 
 Morton wished to be used for the child's clothes. 
 Ann took it, but did not like to do so. Some- 
 how, it seemed to her like a charity to her brother 
 and herself, and she had the admirable dislike of 
 the hardy New England mind to being assisted 
 by money. Moreover, and this Alice Westerley 
 of course failed to comprehend, Ann had a de- 
 cided indisposition to receive for Hester any favors 
 from Colonel Morton. In fact, she kept saying to 
 herself, " How will this child feel if she ever comes 
 to know that, however innocently, the man to whom 
 she owes so much was at least suspected of having 
 killed her father ? I ought to think for her now." 
 But her brother had laughed at Ann about this,
 
 160 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 and it was a matter already ignored or forgotten by 
 everybody but herself ; besides, Ezra, who was in- 
 different as to money, had already told her that the 
 Mortons expected to assist them, and so what could 
 she do but accept for Hester this further kindness ? 
 Nevertheless, Ann did not use the check until more 
 than once reminded of it by Wendell. 
 
 Mrs. Morton felt easier after this settlement of 
 Hester's affairs, and in a couple of weeks sailed for 
 Liverpool with her husband and Arthur, while Ed- 
 ward came to stay at the doctor's, where a room 
 \S had been made comfortable for him by his mother's 
 lavish care ; and so a new chapter in life began for 
 those concerned in this tale. 
 
 " I shall be home again in six months," Arthur 
 said. " Hester, you will write to me. If you don't, 
 I shall come back in three months." 
 
 " Then perhaps I won't write, Arty," replied the 
 young lady. 
 
 " She won't have time to write to all of us," said 
 Edward, smiling ; " and I promise you that I mean 
 to have my share." 
 
 Arthur looked up, and remarked, testily, " She 
 must write to me, anyhow. You are so near her, it 
 can't make any matter." 
 
 " Halloa, old fellow," returned Edward, " I was 
 jesting ! What makes you so savage ? We don't 
 say ' must ' to young ladies." 
 
 " I was n't savage," said Arthur. 
 
 " Were n't you? Well, I beg pardon. We can't 
 have a row now."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 161 
 
 " No, brother." 
 
 " And I will write a little to both," promised 
 Hester, "if I may, you know." 
 
 Then Edward said good-by, and Arthur followed 
 Hester alone to the door. " Good-by," he said. 
 " Don't forget me," and he kissed the hand he yet 
 detained in his own. The girl reddened. She was 
 a little startled by his passionate manner. 
 
 " I won't forget you, Arty ; " and she went away 
 with a strong feeling of sorrow at parting, and with 
 an odd and novel sense of a secret between Arty 
 and herself, some half -felt idea that he had been 
 pleasant to her, and that he had kissed her hand 
 like a knight, and that it was n't a thing she would 
 tell. 
 
 The short time which elapsed between the sailing 
 of the Mortons and Hester's departure for school 
 was very delightful to Edward. He moved about 
 with difficulty, but nevertheless it was a new pleas- 
 ure to drive Hester across the park, or up through 
 the lanes to Chestnut Hill. It was also something 
 to escape the trying atmosphere of home, and, 
 though he did not realize it in thought, from his 
 mother's too remindful care and his father's con- 
 stant discontent with life. He found the Wendells 
 very pleasant. Men who are abruptly shut off 
 from active life turn instinctively for aid to women, 
 and in Miss Wendell Edward discovered a kind of 
 helpfulness different from that which Mrs. Wes- 
 terley gave, and yet as valuable. Ann liked the 
 manly, enduring young fellow, with his broad, gaunt
 
 162 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 form and the soft voice which was always coming 
 at right moments to soothe or sustain, or decoy her 
 into a smile. The broken life of this young athlete 
 moved her strangely, perhaps because she was and 
 felt herself in a woman's sense competent for any- 
 thing in the work of life, and was now awed to see 
 in a man a like competence suddenly destroyed. 
 Yet it is doubtful if she would have felt thus for a 
 young woman. Certainly, not so deeply ; and in- 
 deed, as a rule, she somewhat despised sick women. 
 
 She found errands for Edward to do, and knew 
 with feminine clearness when he wanted a wood 
 fire and loneliness. She soon said, " I just do like 
 to have that boy around." A servant came daily, 
 and did what Edward desired ; but Ann had de- 
 clined to have another man to stay in the house. 
 "Three?" she declared. "I couldn't stand 
 that!" 
 
 Wendell, too, the young man found pleasant. 
 The deficiencies of the doctor's nature were seen 
 but by few, and rarely in the visible life of society 
 or of his profession. If certain people did not 
 quite like him, they had often to confess that they 
 hardly knew why, and he was commonly described 
 as a bright and intelligent companion and wonder- 
 fully learned in many ways. This was all true. 
 Some people make admirable, indeed delightful 
 acquaintances, and are gifted with the camaraderie 
 of the minute, but have no capacity for friendship. 
 And there are good friends who make poor ac- 
 quaintances. As to Wendell, he liked many people
 
 7^V WAR TIME. 163 
 
 easily, but not deeply, and at present was enter- 
 tained with the young man, who promised to re- 
 lieve what he sometimes felt was a growing narrow- 
 ness in his life with Ann. He craved sympathy 
 in his pursuits, and desired, as some men do, that 
 they should interest every one. Ann had discov- 
 ered this, but perhaps her interest was a little for- 
 mal in its outward expression ; at all events, Ed- 
 ward seemed to be a much more promising auditor, 
 and a fresh one. 
 
 Out of it came a wholesomer existence for Ed- 
 ward Morton. His young life at school, where he 
 learned nothing and would learn nothing, was 
 broken, when he was fifteen, by his father, who in a 
 rage sent him to expend his wild energies on a cat- 
 tle ranch in Texas, with Mrs. Morton's brother. 
 There he rode and hunted, and was shot at by In- 
 dians, until some time after the death of the uncle, 
 whose heir he became, when the outbreak of trea- 
 son in Texas sent him home in haste. His escape 
 had been perilous, and in the long exposures which 
 accompanied it he probably acquired the malady 
 which had left him but a sad on-looker in a world 
 where nature had meant him to play a prominent 
 part. But now he was left without resources. To 
 shoot, to ride, to fish, to swim, were not for him. 
 
 " Why, doctor, I can't even stand long enough 
 to play out a game of billiards. I think I see my- 
 self reduced to whist, or to the condition in which 
 my father used to be when he got shaved twice a 
 day, because he had nothing else as interesting to 
 do."
 
 164 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " You might make me some jack-straws, Mr. Ed- 
 ward," observed Hester, who was coiled up on a 
 cushion at his feet, while Wendell gazed into his 
 microscope, or looked through a book for some fig- 
 ure to match the awful beasts who wandered about 
 under his lens, and Ann sat busily knitting, near 
 
 by. 
 
 Ann looked up. " That 's a good idea, child. 
 When my father had been very ill, and was getting 
 well, he used to whittle. It was wonderful how 
 quiet it kept him. He used to whittle almost all 
 day." 
 
 " Were you ever at Bangor ?" inquired Wendell. 
 "Down East we call it Bangore; why, I don't 
 know. What my sister says made me think of it. 
 It is all chips and sawmills, and the rivers are thick 
 with shavings and choked with sawdust. I think 
 whittling must have been invented there." 
 
 " We will go there next summer, Hester, all of 
 us, and see it," returned Edward. 
 
 " But you can learn to whittle now," persisted 
 Hester. " I know how. I can show you. Have 
 you a sharp knife ? " 
 
 " What a child ! " exclaimed Edward, delighted. 
 " A knife ? Six of them." 
 
 " And you will want some soft, dry, white pine," 
 said Ann, " I will see about it to-morrow." 
 
 " Thank you. You are very good to me ; and 
 really, it is a first-rate notion for a small monkey." 
 
 " I am not very small, and I am not a monkey, 
 Mr. Edward," rejoined the young lady.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 165 
 
 " Well, a nice monkey." 
 
 " No, not even a nice monkey ! I am just Miss 
 Hester Gray." 
 
 " And not Hester ? " 
 
 " Yes, when you are nice, I am Hester ; and 
 when you are not, I am Miss Gray. That 's my 
 real name," she added, nodding her head. 
 
 Edward was amused at the half earnestness of 
 the growing girl. 
 
 " But," said Ann, " you should n't speak just in 
 that way to older people." 
 
 Had Hester been her own child, the reproof 
 would have been more decisive. 
 
 " I did n't mean anything, Miss Ann." 
 
 " Then you should not speak unless you do mean 
 something." 
 
 " It 's our way," interrupted Edward. " We 
 have it out, now and then ; but this engagement 
 was very mild. When we do clear the decks for 
 action, you may take care ! " 
 
 " I shall leave then," said Ann, smiling. 
 
 " And I," added Wendell. " But just come here, 
 Edward. Don't shake the table ! There, move 
 this screw. It is the fine adjustment." 
 
 Edward looked and wondered. Here was a wild 
 world of strange creatures ; possibly, as to numbers, 
 a goodly town full of marvelous beasts, attacking, 
 defending, eating, or being eaten : some, mere tiny 
 dots, oscillating to and fro ; some, vibratile rods ; 
 and among them, an amazing menagerie of larger 
 creatures, whirled hither and thither by active cilia 
 too swift in their motions to be seen.
 
 166 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 "Let me sit down and look at them, doctor. 
 What a sight ! It makes my head swim. Have 
 you seen them, Hester ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes," Hester answered ; "I am quite fond 
 of some of them. Do show him the rhizopod with 
 the pebble house shaped like Mrs. Morton's Greek 
 vase, uncle." 
 
 " Hester, I told you yesterday that you must not 
 call Dr. Wendell uncle,' " Ann broke in. " It is 
 not truthful ; that is why I don't like it." 
 
 " But I do," said Wendell, laughing, " and I 
 can't have her calling me * doctor.' I think, Ann, 
 you are quite too particular." 
 
 " Have your way. It is n't any very great mat- 
 ter." 
 
 " No, it is n't any very great matter," returned 
 Wendell. 
 
 " And if there are titles around loose," said Ed- 
 ward, " I mean to be grandpapa. It is a very 
 privileged position." 
 
 " I wish to choose grandpapas for myself, Mr. 
 Edward." 
 
 " Edward, please." 
 
 "No, 'Mr.' Edward." 
 
 " Well, it is like a Greek vase," cried Morton, 
 again looking down into the microscope ; " and 
 how beautiful it is ! " 
 
 " It was found between two wet bricks in a side- 
 walk, by a great naturalist," remarked WendelL 
 
 Edward still peered musingly through the glass. 
 
 " There seem," he thought, " to be a great many
 
 IN WAR TIME. 167 
 
 things I have never seen or heard of." Then he 
 asked, " What do you call this fellow ? " 
 
 " It is a fresh-water sponge." 
 
 " Goodness ! " returned Edward, " are sponges 
 alive ? Do I mop myself with a beast ? " 
 
 " I don't care about their names," said Hester, 
 laughing, " they won't come when they are 
 called; but I like to know their looks, and see 
 which must be cousins and which must be brothers 
 and sisters." 
 
 "Yes," replied Morton, "I should fancy that 
 might be good fun." 
 
 " And then," cried Hester, "it 's very nice to get 
 a lot of stuff from the ponds near Fisher's Mill, 
 just all along the edges, you know, and to come 
 home and see with the microscope what you have 
 got." 
 
 " Hum," returned Edward, " it might have the 
 charm of gambling without the cost. That 's what 
 makes all gambling so amusing. It's a kind of 
 gambling. And how many things, Miss Gray, are 
 there in life that interest you ? " 
 
 " Mr. Morton," she said, making him a coquet- 
 tish courtesy, " I could n't tell you in an hour." 
 
 " Then don't begin," laughed Edward. 
 
 " The child does like a good many things," ob- 
 served Wendell. " But our menagerie is small, 
 now ; only a remnant of our beasts are left in these 
 saucers. When June comes we will go a-hunting." 
 
 " It seems a droll idea to get a great bag of this 
 small game," said Edward, " and not know what
 
 168 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 you have till you get home ! Comical ; kind of lot- 
 tery, is n't it ? " 
 
 " Rather ; but you get to like it." 
 
 " Hester," said Ann, glancing at the clock, " bed- 
 time, bedtime, and past. 'Early to bed and 
 early to rise ' and you know the rest." 
 
 " But, Miss Ann, would n't I go to bed a little 
 wiser if I might wait till you read ? I know you 
 will read when I am gone." 
 
 " I was thinking of that myself," said Wendell ; 
 for he had now got his young patient into the habit 
 of reading aloud with him, and was wise enough to 
 lure him on with such prose or verse as he thought 
 would be the most pleasant bait. Some echo of 
 the wild life he had left, or some ringing lyric 
 which recalled the strife into which he would have 
 wished to plunge, was delightful to Edward. The 
 little lady, too, was herself cunning in her choice. 
 
 " Just a half hour, Miss Ann," pleaded Edward ; 
 " and then I will go to bed, too. See how good 
 lam!" 
 
 " You all spoil her," said Ann ; but the permis- 
 sion had already been taken for granted. 
 
 " I like this," said Hester, decisively, putting an 
 open book in Edward's hand. 
 
 " Why, it 's that idiot Wordsworth ! " 
 
 " WeU, but read," said Hester. 
 
 " Oh," exclaimed he, " what 's this, then? ' Bear 
 me to the heart of France is the longing of the 
 shield.' Halloa, Hester, that is poetry ! I '11 try 
 it ; " and with a voice of many tones he read aloud
 
 IN WAR TIME. 169 
 
 that great lyric to the tender lines at its close, 
 when, as after a flare of warlike bugles, the large 
 silence is filled with a song of peace, of the sweet- 
 ness of tender giving, and of kindness treasured in 
 remembrance in peasant homes through centuries 
 after. " By George," he cried, " that 's great verse ! 
 No more to-night. To bed, Miss Gray, to bed ! 
 Please to carry my candle up. ' Quell the Scot, 
 exclaims the lance.' I must learn it ! I shall read 
 it better next time." 
 
 " Did you really never see it before ? " asked 
 Wendell. 
 
 " See it ! " repeated Morton. " How should a 
 Texas cowboy have seen anything? This leaving 
 me, Hester, just as my education begins, is rather 
 rough, I think. But women are all heartless. 
 Good-night. Ah, that ' longing of the shield ! ' I 
 think I understand." 
 
 This sort of intellectual contact was unknown to 
 Edward Morton's previous existence. Even had 
 he been at home he would have seen none of it. 
 The Mortons read books, and were reasonably up 
 to the day, and could smile at Mr. Wilmington's 
 mislaid Addisonian quotations ; but the true book- 
 life they knew not. Books were in, but not of, 
 their lives, whereas Wendell was an absorber of 
 books, and honestly loved the old literature, while 
 Hester was quickly showing, in this genial air, that 
 curious, keen zest for all printed matter which her 
 friend Arthur also had, and which sets a boy or a 
 girl to browsing along book-shelves, as deep to-day
 
 170 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 in an almanac as tomorrow in Grote or Gibbon. 
 Even Ann, who read least, had her literary likings 
 and fought for them, and they talked about books 
 with unaffected interest, fictitious characters afford- 
 ing them such cheerful gossip as Morton heard else- 
 where about servants and children. 
 
 Little by little, as has chanced before to many 
 an invalid, there opened thus to the stranded man 
 a new and strange world. In health he could never 
 have known it. Now, by degrees, its men and 
 women were forced upon his acquaintance, and, like 
 some obligatory acquaintanceships, grew pleasant as 
 V he became accustomed to them. But it seemed very 
 odd to him to be, as he felt it, leaving one world 
 and pleasantly entering another. As time moved 
 on, however, he learned how wholesome for his 
 troubled being were these novel interests, to which, 
 after Hester left, he began to turn still more eagerly. 
 It was clear to Alice Westerley that new and grate- 
 ful occupations were finding a place in the young 
 man's life, and to talk of them began to make a 
 part of the frequent chats with the widow, which 
 were a portion of the limited happiness of his pres- 
 ent very quiet days. 
 
 And so the winter sped away, and there were 
 genial letters from Arthur, who was in France, and 
 busy endeavoring to determine the whereabouts of 
 the field of Roncesvalles. The colonel was mend- 
 ing, as Dr. Lagrange had predicted ; but despite 
 this Mrs. Morton's letters were not very happy. 
 At that time Confederate heroes were rather the
 
 IN WAR TIME. 171 
 
 rage in Europe among the mongrel English who 
 lived on the Continent, but nevertheless the colonel 
 was a social success. He always had been and al- 
 ways would be, and as a rich American was agree- 
 ably received everywhere, especially by the Italian 
 princes and French counts, for whom there were 
 and are but two classes of Americans, the poor 
 and the rich. Besides, Morton was calmly indiffer- 
 ent, and neither wanted nor sought any one ; and 
 this, to the better class of English, is always more 
 or less a social shibboleth. The colonel was thus 
 in a measure courted, and on the whole liked the 
 idle life about him. 
 
 His wife did not. She was a very considerable 
 personage at home, and abroad she was " that large 
 woman," " very nice, you know," " the wife of that 
 distinguished-looking American." Nor was Arthur 
 any better pleased. Being tall and sturdy, he had 
 been asked by a Frenchman how it came that he 
 was in Europe, when it was said that in his country 
 even the boys were in the army ; but that, perhaps, 
 was in the South, where there was a sort of no- 
 blesse, and " that oblige, you know," at which Ar- 
 thur was furious. Somewhat later, as the colonel 
 got better, and the spring opened, they had tried 
 England, where they had many acquaintances, the 
 product of several visits abroad ; but here even the 
 colonel, with his easy indifference to political opin- 
 ions, was uncomfortable, amidst the constant and 
 outspoken hostility of the upper class to his coun- 
 try, while Arthur was in one long agony of ill-con-
 
 172 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 cealed wrath. At last, in early May, Mrs. Morton 
 confided to Alice Westerley that England was un- 
 endurable. 
 
 " My dear Alice," she wrote, " to-morrow we 
 leave for the north of Italy, and glad enough I am 
 to go. You cannot conceive what it is to be in 
 England at present. I do not see how Mr. Adams 
 stands it at all. But I suppose his position pro- 
 tects him somewhat. To us, I can assure you, these 
 people are anything but diplomatic. And as to 
 Arthur, I shall be glad this month to let him go 
 home. Yesterday he had what he calls a 'row' 
 with some young Englishmen, and having used 
 certain very strong language is in a rage to-day 
 because they declined, one and all of them, to be 
 shot in France all of which especially pleases his 
 father, who says that the boy behaved very well. 
 
 " So to-morrow, to my great relief, as I said, we 
 leave this land of fogs and plain speaking. Lady 
 Jane asked for you yesterday, and Mr. Melville 
 and the Veres have been very civil. I will get you 
 your gloves in Paris ; and do not forget that Hester 
 Gray will need summer dresses. 
 
 " I understand that Edward has taken to books 
 and a microscope ! Really, if you had told me that 
 you were editing a dictionary, I could not have 
 been more amazed. However, it is, I dare say, a 
 good thing. Poor fellow! My heart yearns for 
 that boy, Alice ! I think of him day and night. 
 And how goes our Sanitary Commission work ? I 
 inclose a draft for it. Use it as you think best."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 173 
 
 And then followed endless requests as to the care 
 of old servants, and what not. 
 
 " Helen Morton must be famishing for something 
 to do," said Alice Westerley, as she came to quite 
 a voluminous postscript. 
 
 "I reopen this letter to tell you of a curious 
 thing which happened yesterday. Colonel Morton 
 came in late last evening with a gentleman, who, it 
 seems, has called here before, although the people 
 at the Burlington somehow managed to mislay his 
 card. Morton met him at the Reform Club, where 
 he chanced to hear my husband's name mentioned. 
 He is a cousin of our little Hester, and is called 
 Henry Gray, the relative she told us of. Al- 
 though a Carolinian, he has lived in Texas, and he 
 says that he knew my brother Edward very well. 
 I should think he must make a sensation in Eng- 
 lish social life, for a more singular person I, at 
 least, have never met. He is a perfectly rabid 
 rebel : but you know Morton rather prides himself 
 on a calm show of indifference about such matters, 
 and really, I suppose, as the child is concerned, 
 he is right enough to pass over a good deal. But 
 as to Arty, he left the room in five minutes, as red 
 as a peony. 
 
 " What this gentleman said was that he had not 
 heard a word directly about Hester ; which is curi- 
 ous, as our letters and I wrote three were sent 
 to his agent in Charleston. Still, nothing is sure 
 in war-time. He had, however, learned that Cap- 
 tain Gray had died at the hospital, and he had
 
 174 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 written from here to the surgeon in charge, and 
 had got an answer, pretty accurate, you may be 
 sure, from Dr. Lagrange ! And now by good 
 luck he lit on Morton. I hear that he has made no 
 end of money in running the blockade, and that he 
 is in some way a financial agent of the rebels. 
 ' A pretty acquaintance ! ' says Master Arthur, who 
 absolutely declined to dine with him to-day." 
 V (" I should think so," commented Mrs. Wester- 
 ley. " The idea of it ! ") 
 
 " The man, I ought to say, has very good man- 
 ners, wears a broad felt hat, and has long hair, and 
 the smallest, thinnest boots you ever saw. When 
 our servant helped him to take his coat off, a re- 
 volver fell out of his pocket, and nearly scared 
 poor Price out of his life. The colonel, who was in 
 the entry, remarked that it was n't much needed in 
 London ; upon which Mr. Gray said calmly that 
 he did n't know about that, and that ' it made a 
 man feel easy like.' Can you conceive of it, my 
 dear! And these are the people our English 
 friends look upon as aristocrats, great land-owners, 
 and so on ! Don't you wish they could see some of 
 the ' gentlemen's seats ' in the South ? But I must 
 not talk about this any more. 
 
 "It is simply impossible to credit the state of 
 feeling here. John thinks we shall certainly have 
 a war with England. 
 
 " However, I am delaying to tell you about what 
 is personally very important. Mr. Henry Gray 
 has now seen us several times. He is so well satis-
 
 IN WAR TIME. 175 
 
 fied, owing to what we have said about the Wen- 
 dells, that he intends to place ten thousand dollars 
 in Dr. Wendell's hands, the income of which is to 
 be used for Hester's education. He very wisely 
 says that it will be better, in these times, to do this 
 than to trust to his being able to send the interest 
 in installments. I wanted to have the money put 
 as a trust in Morton's hands, as I have no great 
 opinion of our good friend the doctor's financial 
 abilities ; but to this John said no, and, as usual, 
 that he had had bother enough about the matter, 
 and that I was too suspicious, which was dread- 
 ful, Alice, because there is no one in whom I have 
 more confidence than the doctor. So of course I 
 said no more, and the money goes at once to Dr. 
 Wendell. And don't you think you might give 
 him a hint as to getting Mr. Wilmington's advice 
 in regard to an investment ? Then you might ask 
 Mr. Wilmington just to mention government bonds 
 as desirable. Now is n't it all really very nice and 
 generous ? " 
 
 Then there was more about the Sanitary Com- 
 mission, and exact directions as to how the draft in 
 aid of it was to be spent ; over which Alice Wes- 
 terley smiled, recalling the phrase which left her 
 free to use it as seemed best. 
 
 Last of all was a slip dated Paris, June 20th : 
 " Oh, Alice, why am I not in that loathsome Eng- 
 land to-day of all days ! The Kearsarge has taken 
 the Alabama, and I am wild with joy I Arty said 
 Buch a clever thing about it this morning to old La
 
 176 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Roque, the famous abbe who turns the heads and 
 the religion of the English girls. He is an insane 
 Southern sympathizer ; and when he said to Arty, 
 4 What drolls of names for the ships ! ' (he thinks 
 he speaks English) my young gentleman says, 
 * Yes : one is a Yankee mountain, and the other is 
 a slave State. How could there be any doubt 
 about the result ? ' which pleased John immensely. 
 This fight has made the lad crazy ; he sails in three 
 days ; and the colonel has written to the governor. 
 So I am to have once more, dear Alice, the terror 
 of a personal stake in the war. I feel as if I were 
 tied to it already, there, that is worthy of you. 
 Ask Arty about his last interview with Mr. Gray. 
 Don't forget." 
 
 The same mail which carried this communication 
 brought also to Wendell a brief letter from Mr. 
 Gray, inclosing the promised draft and an explana- 
 tory note from Colonel Morton. The former gen- 
 tleman desired to be recalled to his young cousin's 
 memory, and hoped, when the war was over and 
 the Confederacy firmly established, to take her 
 home with him to Texas ; and beside this there was 
 little except a warmly expressed desire that she 
 would always remember that she was a Carolinian. 
 
 Wendell was pleased, amused, and a little dis- 
 turbed in mind. He said to his sister, 
 
 " I think it will be best not to show her this let- 
 ter at all What does she care for the South? 
 They have been long enough in finding out about 
 her, I am sure." But he did not say that Mrs.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 177 
 
 Morton's last letter, which he had promised to con- 
 fide to a friend who was on the staff of General 
 Meade, and through whom Mrs. Morton desired 
 to secure its transit across the lines, was lying in 
 his table drawer. In fact, he had meant to send 
 it ; then he had forgotten it ; and when it was 
 brought anew to his attention, he had come to feel 
 that this girl, who was now so interesting a part of 
 his life, was in a measure his own. A deepening 
 sense of unwillingness to be the instrument of sep- 
 arating her from her new life overcame for a time 
 his resolves, which, at least where his own indul- 
 gence was concerned, were apt to be weak, and thus 
 he had again delayed to act, until, finally, it was 
 too late. 
 
 " I think I would let her see her cousin's letter," 
 returned Ann, who was always just. " Don't you 
 think it would be wrong not to do so ? Try to put 
 yourself in his place, Ezra." 
 
 " I will think about it," he answered. 
 
 Ann knew very well what that meant. Why 
 think about it at all ? It was clear enough. 
 
 " I would give it to her at once, Ezra. I believe 
 myself you are rather sorry to have anybody claim 
 her. She is certainly a very nice child, but I can't 
 see why you and Edward Morton make such a fuss 
 over her." 
 
 " Can't you, Ann ? " 
 
 " No, I cannot ; and now that she is taken charge 
 of by her cousin, I, for one, shall feel it a great re- 
 lief from a responsibility and an expense too."
 
 178 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " But she is n't taken out of our charge as yet ; 
 and as to the expense she has occasioned, I don't 
 mind that in the least." 
 
 "But you should, Ezra. And I do wish you 
 were more thoughtful about expenses ! Even with 
 your increase of practice we are always in debt. 
 Now that new microscope : don't you think " 
 
 " Yes, I know ; but unless I had had it I should 
 have been unable to go on with my work in that 
 question of pyaemia ; and you know what Lagrange 
 said about that yesterday. It is really important." 
 And indeed it must be added that he honestly 
 thought so. 
 
 Ann sighed. " But you will try ? " she said. 
 
 Yes, he would try. So he kissed her ; for on 
 these occasions he had come to regard a kiss as an 
 effectual means of ending objectionable debate. 
 
 Nevertheless, Ann Wendell wrote very fully to 
 Hester, and for all she left unsaid the letter from 
 Mr. Gray might as well have gone.
 
 XII. 
 
 IT was now early in July, in the year 1864, and 
 Mrs. Westerley was full of her summer plans, and 
 in a state of agreeable excitement over the expected 
 arrival of Arthur and the return to Germantown of 
 Hester, whom she was pleased to regard as the 
 heroine of a little romance, and whose social edu- 
 cation, she had resolved, should do justice to the 
 promise of her charming face and improving for- 
 tunes. She had arranged with Miss Ann who, 
 as she had said, did not see any reason for so much 
 fuss that her own maid should go to the school, 
 and escort Hester to Dr. Wendell's ; and she had 
 also the intention of asking that young person to 
 spend with her a part of the summer vacation. 
 Then, also, Arty was to be with her for two or 
 three days. While she was discussing these mat- 
 ters with her maid, John announced Colonel Fox 
 and Mr. Wilmington. Already she had been up 
 and down stairs several times to see women who 
 called, and she was tired ; but as she never objected 
 to see the men whom she fancied, she rose pleas- 
 antly enough, and with a critical, if hasty, glance 
 in her mirror went down - stairs, looking at her 
 watch on the way, as she almost momentarily ex- 
 pected Arthur Morton.
 
 180 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Wilmington," she said, 
 " and Colonel Fox ! What happy chance brought 
 you here ? " 
 
 " I am not sure," replied the soldier, " that it is 
 a ' happy ' chance, altogether. I got hit in the 
 mine assault ; not badly, but it has made my head 
 uncomfortable. I always get hit somewhere ! " 
 
 " Thee 's always getting into trouble," said Wil- 
 mington. " I heard thee volunteered to lead the 
 advance. Why can't thee confine theeself to thy 
 legitimate business ? It 's just like speculating." 
 
 The widow laughed merrily, but the old gentle- 
 man was in grim earnest, and looked up at her not 
 at all pleased. 
 
 " Oh, but Master Jack," said Fox, " that boy of 
 yours, he was in a worse scrape. When the mine 
 failed, he volunteered to crawl in and relight the 
 fuse. He just got out in time, I can tell you ! Do 
 you call that legitimate business ? " 
 
 " And you never told me, Mr. Wilmington ! " 
 exclaimed Mrs. Westerley. " What splendid cour- 
 age ! " 
 
 " And do you know, Mrs. Westerley, the boy 
 laughed when the Herald's reporter asked him his 
 name, next day. He told him it was John 
 Smith!" 
 
 " Young idiot ! " muttered the old gentleman ; 
 but his eyes filled. He found himself obliged to 
 wipe his eye-glasses, and he cleared his throat of a 
 sudden choking sensation. 
 
 " I hear that Sheridan offered him a staff ap-
 
 IN WAR TIME. 181 
 
 pointment," said Fox, " but Jack preferred the reg- 
 iment." 
 
 " I should have taken the least dangerous. These 
 boys, these boys ! " 
 
 " And do you know that I am to have Arty ? " 
 said the colonel. " He will be my youngest lieu- 
 tenant." 
 
 " Oh, that is well ! " exclaimed the widow. " And 
 you will take care of him ? " 
 
 " Of that breed ? " cried Fox. " Not I ! " 
 
 " Thee can't take care of theeself," remarked 
 Wilmington, " it appears ! " 
 
 " What is it, John ? " said Mrs. Westerley to the 
 servant who now entered. 
 
 " A telegram, ma'am." 
 
 " Oh, from Arty ! Really, he has stopped to see 
 Hester," and she read aloud : 
 
 " * Having a letter from mother to Hester, 
 stopped to deliver it.' " 
 
 Fox laughed. " I suppose he could n't trust the 
 mails ? " 
 
 " I think he needs looking after, Mrs. Wester- 
 ley," observed Wilmington. 
 
 " I think so myself," she returned. " Indeed, I 
 intimated as much to his mother. However, he will 
 be here to-morrow." 
 
 " These Mortons ! " exclaimed Wilmington. " A 
 fight or a woman would stop them on the way to 
 heaven ! " 
 
 " Or to Mrs. Westerley's," suggested Fox. 
 
 " Who is a woman, please," rejoined the widow.
 
 182 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " A dozen of gloves," said Wilmington, " that he 
 waits to come home with her, day after to-morrow. 
 Will you bet?" 
 
 " Not I," replied the hostess. " I share your 
 opinion of the Morton blood. Luckily, I sent my 
 maid for the child. That excellent and most obdu- 
 rate spinster, Ann Wendell, wondered why in the 
 world she couldn't come home in charge of the 
 conductor. Imagine it. I never saw an American 
 woman before who was as little plastic. I don't 
 think she has learned anything since she came 
 here." 
 
 " As to social wants or usages, you mean," re- 
 marked Fox. " Commonly the clever American 
 man or maid changes easily enough as to the exter- 
 nals of social life." 
 
 " Ann Wendell," returned the widow, " changes 
 neither within nor without. I should have to de- 
 spise my poor self or hate such unpliable people. 
 I suppose she is sorry, or laughs ; but really, if so, 
 it must be all done inside. And her dress is just 
 like her face ; it is never rumpled, come what may ! 
 Now is n't that kind of person rather exasperat- 
 ing?" 
 
 " I presume she must be so to her brother," said 
 Fox, watchfully regardant ; " but then I fancy that, 
 like every doctor, he has all the virtues, and is up 
 to the moral level of standing any kind of sister." 
 
 " Now is n't that a little stupid of you ? " asked 
 Mrs. Westerley. " But, stupid or not, I never let 
 my friends be abused except by myself I "
 
 IN WAR TIME. 183 
 
 " But did I abuse him ? " 
 
 " I think you were going to ; but come and dine 
 here to-morrow, and I will forgive you." 
 
 " I will come. Seven, is n't it ? " 
 
 " No, half-past six." 
 
 "Well, I won't forget. And Miss Hester, 
 will she be here ? Is she as handsome as she prom- 
 ised to be ? " 
 
 " Come and see." 
 
 Then Mr. Wilmington talked about the Mortons, 
 and a little war gossip with Fox, and at last went 
 away. 
 
 " Dear old fellow," said Fox, " how he liked it 
 about that boy ! " 
 
 " Yes, he liked it well, and you were very nice to 
 talk of it. But tell me, were you much hurt ? I 
 heard of it, but I did not suppose that you would 
 have to come home." 
 
 " No, it was n't altogether the wound that brought 
 me. I came partly to see about filling up my 
 ranks. We lost awfully in front of Petersburg." 
 
 " Will you have any difficulty ? How do you 
 manage it, your recruiting, I mean ? " 
 
 The colonel, quite pleased, went on to tell her; 
 and then she questioned him further about his offi- 
 cers and the discipline of his command. It was 
 one of Alice Westerley's charms that she listened 
 with natural eagerness, and that her intellectual , / 
 sympathies were real and widespread. Men were 
 taken captive, but did not know why, and won- 
 dered, as Fox did, how a woman so trained to the
 
 184 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 habits of a class could interest, as she did, men like 
 Wendell, with his microscope, and his queer ver 
 min, and his musty old books. In fact, she could 
 listen all day to the doctor's talk about his profes- 
 sion and his scientific pursuits ; while besides this 
 she had a pleasing sense of having helped and 
 aided him, and liked his way of coming to her for 
 advice when he was in any social or other difficulty. 
 She had learned, too, that she had a singular con- 
 trol over his moods, and the gentle power thus ex- 
 ercised flattered her. She had no full means of 
 relatively gauging and contrasting the characters of 
 these two men, but she liked both, and influenced 
 both, and had greatly assisted one of them, which 
 was, little as she knew it as yet, a somewhat dan- 
 gerous protectorate. It was an unguessed secret to 
 Dr. Wendell, yet it would have been clear to Helen 
 Morton, had she been still at home, that the man 
 who was most ignorant of his own good fortune was 
 the one her friend would perhaps prefer, in time ; 
 and that the quiet, manly, unpretending soldier, 
 with his strong, definitive character, would find no 
 such open path to her heart. 
 
 Alice looked at him as he rose to say good-by to 
 Mr. Wilmington, and took in with a woman's quick 
 eye the good-humor of the sun-browned face and 
 the little scar on the left temple, and saw that he 
 still carried his arm thrust in his half-buttoned 
 coat ; disliking the sling, which would have marked 
 him as a wounded man, and singled him out for 
 remark and attention. She well knew that the man
 
 IN WAR TIME. 185 
 
 who now sat so quietly talking to her was renowned 
 in war as a relentless disciplinarian, and as a sol- 
 dier gallant beyond what was common even in those 
 splendid and terrible years. She was also aware 
 that at home he was trusted and honored, and that, 
 with a woman's tact and diplomacy, she had been 
 keeping him at a certain friendly distance; not 
 able to love him, and yet unwilling quite to lose 
 him from her life. 
 
 They chatted pleasantly of their absent friends 
 and of the army, and then she read to him from 
 Mrs. Morton's letter some of the amusing and in- 
 teresting bits. 
 
 " And so Hester," he said, " has found a gener- 
 ous cousin. I am very glad for the child. I sup- 
 pose now she will have plenty of friends. And 
 after all, though the Wendells are very good peo- 
 ple, I don't think Miss Wendell is quite the person 
 to bring up a girl who so clearly belongs to the 
 most refined class." 
 
 Mrs. Westerley agreed with the theory of the re- 
 mark, but nevertheless, without precisely knowing 
 why, did not like it. 
 
 " Miss Ann," she said, adroitly, " is so good that 
 I don't always like to ask myself whether she is 
 agreeable or not. Few people would have done 
 what the Wendells did for such a little waif as 
 Hester." Then she took a quite feminine ven- 
 geance : "I saw her last month, by the way, and 
 you never could imagine the change six months 
 have made. She seemed to me, at first, too childish
 
 186 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 for her years ; but even before she went away she 
 was what my nurse used to call 'elder ing.' You 
 know, colonel, how at sixteen girls make in six 
 months that curious leap into womanhood that 
 never ceases to surprise one." 
 
 " Yes," he returned ; " they quickly go past the 
 young fellows who are a year or two older, or even 
 more." 
 
 " I think Master Arthur will discover that, to his 
 astonishment. I believe I shall keep her for you, 
 colonel ! When the war is over, you will have to 
 settle down, and by that time Miss Gray will be a 
 pearl of pearls. I shall set about educating her 
 myself ; and as I know your wants pretty well, only 
 imagine what a success I shall make ! " 
 
 The return shot was artful, and went home. 
 
 "But if the pupil is to become all this, what 
 must the teacher be ? " 
 
 " Oh, that was worthy of Colonel Morton in his 
 most devoted moments. I must get my work. I 
 don't see how you men can talk all day with your 
 hands idle. That is the reason, I believe, you are 
 always getting into mischief. 'For Satan,' you 
 know." 
 
 Then she threw a tangled skein of silk over a 
 chair-back, and began to wind it on a spool, upon 
 which the colonel promptly transferred the skein to 
 his own hands, remarking, " I shall do much better 
 than a chair, and as I shall have my hands em- 
 ployed I shall be kept out of mischief." 
 
 Mrs. Westerley was not quite so sure about this, 
 but she said,
 
 IN WAR TIME. 187 
 
 " Very well ; and keep your hands quiet, now, 
 and don't try to help me. Men always do." 
 
 Fox wondered how many men had gone through 
 this pleasant ordeal. He might have recalled the 
 sad experience of Joseph Sedley. 
 
 " I shall be angelic," he said. 
 
 " And does n't it hurt your arm ? " 
 
 " No ; my arm gives me no pain unless I let it 
 hang down." 
 
 " Well, you can rest when you are tired ; " and as ' 
 she chatted, her quick white hands went to and fro, 
 carefully avoiding his touch. She knew as well as 
 he the peril of the situation, but like the larger 
 number of pleasant women, good or bad, there was 
 in Alice Westerley a coquetry, which, to tell the 
 truth, she did not always care to repress ; and she 
 now comprehended clearly enough that she was tor- 
 menting the man before her, and was herself slyly 
 half enjoying the danger of the situation. Still, he 
 had brought it on himself. " Don't move so," she 
 said. " Is n't it like cat's-cradle ? Did you ever 
 play cat's-cradle when you were little ? Hester is 
 an adept at it. I shall not have to include it in my 
 scheme of education. Then it is like all other learn- 
 ing: there comes a point when you cannot go 
 further. There should be a book about it." 
 
 " Confound Hester ! " he muttered. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, I did not hear you. Per- 
 haps you were thinking that General Lee I beg 
 Mr. Wilmington's pardon, ' Mr.' Lee must un- 
 derstand cat's-cradle."
 
 188 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 "No, indeed; nothing of the kind. Why do 
 you torment me so ? " 
 
 " I ? " she said, penitently, " I ? " 
 
 " Yes, you, Alice Westerley. You cannot really 
 desire to give pain ; it is not in your true nature. 
 Or do you think that I am such a fool as to " 
 
 "No," she replied, in confusion, interrupting 
 him, " I don't. But why are you a fool?" Hav- 
 ing said which she repented. " I mean I beg 
 pardon, I don't mean I " 
 
 "No matter," he returned. "I am a fool, be- 
 cause I love a woman who does not care for me." 
 
 " Then I would n't ask her to love me." 
 
 "And why not?" The man was strangely 
 moved, and was in fact shaken by the effort to 
 control himself. He was afraid, and his head, still 
 troubled by his wound, swam dizzily. The breach 
 and the fierce rush at the cannon mouth was a trifle 
 to this. " Why not, Alice Westerley ? " 
 
 " Because because," she said, tangling the silk 
 on her long fingers, " she might say No." 
 
 "But would she?" 
 
 " I think so," and she kept looking down at the 
 silk. Had she glanced up at the pained white face, 
 his fate might have been different; but she was 
 embarrassed and troubled, and held her peace, still 
 nervously fumbling with the snarled threads. A 
 less tender man would have profited by her evident 
 doubt. 
 
 " Would you ask for a glass of water ? " he said 
 u My head is swimming I in fact, I "
 
 IN WAR TIME. 189 
 
 " I am sorry ! " she exclaimed ; but, happy at 
 the release, and alarmed at his words, she hastily 
 left the room, to seek herself what he wanted. 
 
 " My God," he muttered, " what is life worth 
 now ! How it takes it out of a fellow ! " 
 
 Presently she came back. " Thank you," he said. 
 " It was nothing. I am sorry to have troubled you. 
 I am better now. Have you no more to say, Mrs. 
 Westerley?" 
 
 " No, I don't think I have. I have hurt you. I 
 wish you had not made me do it. When do you go 
 back?" 
 
 " In a week." 
 
 " Then we shall see you to-morrow? " she asked. 
 
 "No, I forgot. I shall be too busy. Oh, of 
 course that is nonsense, but you understand. I 
 could n't stand it. My regards to Arty. Good- 
 
 V 
 
 She put out her hand, but he had already turned 
 away. " Good-by," she said. " I am sorry. . . . 
 Won't you try to think how much how sorry 
 lam?" 
 
 " You can't be as sorry as I am. I wish you 
 were. Good-by." 
 
 Alice Westerley went up - stairs slowly and 
 thoughtfully. " Tell John that I am at home to no 
 one ; remember, to no one," she said, as she passed 
 her maid. Then she sat down at the window, rested 
 her chin on her hands, and looking out across the 
 shrubbery, saw Colonel Fox moving slowly down 
 the lane. She noticed that he carried a cane, and
 
 190 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 was viciously switching off the tops of the wayside 
 dandelions. Very soon he was lost to view. 
 
 " He is angry," she thought. " I wish he had 
 been angry with me. I deserved it. Well, it 's no 
 use to think about it. I can't do it, and there come 
 the ponies, and I wish all the men were dead ! " 
 After which emphatic statement she drove to one 
 or two shops, and then descended on several young 
 women at the local Sanitary Commission, and as 
 vice-president made things a little unpleasant ; and 
 coming out met her neighbor, Mrs. Grace, a calm 
 and somewhat subdued lady, who browsed like a 
 placid cow on the gossip of her little circle of a 
 morning, and chewed at evening, in the solitary 
 companionship of her knitting needles, the sweet or 
 bitter cud of such mild stores of social news as she 
 had not yet digested. She had not failed to see 
 Colonel Fox as he walked away from the widow's 
 gate, and she had seen him when he went in, and 
 the visit had been long. 
 
 " I hear my cousin, Colonel Fox, has come home 
 wounded. When does he go back? So dreadful, 
 is n't it, all this fighting ? I am glad my James 
 did n't go, or Tom." 
 
 " I know nothing of Colonel Fox's movements," 
 returned the widow, with unusual sharpness. 
 
 " I thought you might," replied Mrs. Grace. " I 
 thought he was a friend of yours, and I had no in- 
 tention of saying anything disagreeable." 
 
 "I suppose not. People do not always know; 
 some people never know ; " but then, feeling that
 
 IN WAR TIME. 191 
 
 she had been rude, and being really a kind-hearted 
 woman, she turned back, and said, "Excuse me, 
 Mrs. Grace. I did n't mean to be so short, but I 
 have had some bad news to-day. You will pardon 
 me, I am sure." 
 
 The widow might have spared herself this apol- 
 ogy, as the only sensation her neighbor had was a 
 sense of being well provisioned for the day in the 
 knowledge that there was something between the 
 two friends. 
 
 As for Mrs. Westerley, she smiled as she sped 
 away with her ponies : " A vulgar woman, and 
 hopelessly stout. She must have what Dr. Wendell 
 calls fatty degeneration of the heart ! "
 
 xm. 
 
 ME. ARTHUR MORTON would have justified the 
 suspicions of the Quaker colonel. He paid his 
 visit to Hester in the presence of Miss Pearson, 
 and was to go home that day ; and when was Miss 
 Hester to go ? 
 
 Mrs. Westerley was not astonished when he tele- 
 graphed her that he was detained, and as little 
 surprised when he told, next day, how pleasant the 
 journey had been, and how, of course, he had felt 
 himself obliged to wait for Hester, and had left 
 her at Dr. Wendell's, and had seen dear old Ned, 
 who was looking a lot better. " And how nice of 
 you, Mrs. Westerley, to have them all here to dine, 
 Hester, and Ned, and the doctor! Miss Ann 
 won't come," he added. " Why does n't she come ? 
 And my colonel, why is n't he coming, either ? I 
 wish I had thought to ask you to have him, too." 
 
 " Do give me time to breathe, Arty," answered 
 the widow. " We can't have everybody." 
 
 " Oh, I just mentioned him because he looked so 
 ill. I met him at the station. He was sending off 
 a squad of men, and told me that he had tele- 
 graphed for his major, and was going back at once. 
 I 'm off as soon as I can get my outfit." 
 
 Alice Westerley felt as if there had been a leaf
 
 IN WAR TIME. 193 
 
 doubled down in her life book, what, as a child, 
 she had called a dog-ear, and now of course 
 everybody opened the volume at that place. 
 
 " How is your mother ? " she asked. 
 
 "Well, pretty well. But every one you meet 
 abroad now is detestable. No one believes in the 
 North, and mother says it is depressing. She de- 
 clares that she will not stay another year." 
 
 " Another year ! " exclaimed Mrs. Westerley, in 
 astonishment. 
 
 "Yes. Father doesn't even talk of returning, 
 and I think it will end in her coming over alone 
 for a while." 
 
 " Well, go and dress for dinner. And mind that 
 you are very attentive to the old gentleman, you 
 know he likes it ; and don't leave him alone with 
 Dr. Wendell and the madeira." 
 
 " Oh, no, of course not ; and as to madeira, I 
 have n't heard it mentioned for a year ! " 
 
 Edward, with Hester and the doctor, came punc- 
 tually ; but Wilmington was late, and Arthur, of 
 course. He was at the age when time has no value, 
 and seems as boundlessly abundant as sand in the 
 desert. 
 
 Hester was in simple white, with a rose in her 
 hair. She was a source of unending wonder to 
 Wendell and to Edward. Was this tall, fair 
 woman, with eyes like violets dowered with souls, 
 the awkward girl of six months ago ? This amaz- 
 ing bit of Nature's sleight-of-hand seemed to them 
 incomprehensible : a being child-like now, and pres-
 
 194 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 ently clad with the well-bred composure of grown 
 womanhood! As for Arty, he looked half dazed 
 for a moment, as she turned to greet him. He 
 said afterwards to Edward, in his exuberant way, 
 "Wasn't she just like June days, Ned? You 
 could n't tell whether she was child or woman, 
 spring or summer ! " 
 
 In fact, as Colonel Fox had predicted, Hester 
 * had gone past Arthur, and he was puzzled at the 
 metamorphosis. At last Mr. Wilmington came, 
 and they went merrily to dinner. Mrs. Westerley's 
 dinners were always successful. She had learned 
 the golden rule never to put the stupid people to 
 entertain the clever ones. But to-day there was no 
 need for her social arts, and the party was gay 
 without help from her. For this she was thankful. 
 She felt dull, and was glad not to exert herself. 
 So she talked quietly to Wilmington, and caught, 
 at times, the bits of chat which fell from her other 
 guests ; watching with the pleasure of a gentle- 
 woman the effect on Hester of six months' training 
 with a refined and somewhat accurate old lady, or 
 smiling as she recalled the social lessons of her own 
 childhood. 
 
 "Sherry, sir?" whispered John to Mr. Wil- 
 mington. 
 
 The old gentleman raised his glass. " Your good 
 health, Miss Gray," he said. The girl smiled, and 
 tasted her wine. He was perhaps the last of a 
 generation who drank healths, and he never gave 
 up the ancient custom.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 195 
 
 "Good manners, that child," he murmured to 
 Mrs. Westerley. " I dined out yesterday, and do 
 you know, when I asked a young fellow to take 
 wine with me, he said he never drank." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " said the widow, much amused. 
 
 " And you think I shall never be a colonel, Hes- 
 ter ? " she overheard Arty say. 
 
 " Well, not never, but not in six months, you 
 know." 
 
 " Arty believes that he will be a general in that 
 time," laughed Edward. 
 
 " I know he would make a better one than some 
 of them, Mr. Edward." 
 
 "That might be," observed Wendell. "But, 
 Hester, do you carry bugs about yet ? " 
 
 " And lizards ? " said Edward. 
 
 " And salamanders ? " added Wendell. 
 
 " Oh, no," she laughed. " I am limited to a 
 little plant hunting. And oh, I meant to tell you 
 before ! I took with me to school and Miss Ann 
 never knew it, either a jar full of caterpillar 
 cocoons, so as to have my butterflies in the spring. 
 J wish you could have seen Miss Pearson's face 
 when she saw them ! " 
 
 " And what did she say ? " asked Wendell. 
 
 " Oh, she said that several of the girls would be 
 butterflies in a year or two, and that her crop was 
 large enough. I could n't help laughing, but I 
 cried afterwards." 
 
 " What a horrid old maid! " exclaimed Arty. 
 
 " Not the least horrid. A dear old lady. And 
 as to old maids, I mean to be one myself."
 
 196 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Arty looked up, and murmured to himself, " That 
 will be when I am a colonel, I presume." 
 
 "We shall take nets and go after beetles to- 
 morrow evening," said Edward, " and Arty shall 
 carry the lantern." 
 
 " Try your eyes, Hester," suggested the embryo 
 colonel, under his breath, to his neighbor. 
 
 " What 's that, Hester ? " asked Wendell. 
 
 " He says I shall find it trying to my eyes ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Mrs. Westerley, who had 
 caught the side glance. " Quite time," she thought, 
 " that this young gentleman was in the field ! " 
 
 "Eyes? What's that about eyes?" queried 
 Wilmington, who was a little deaf unless it was 
 desirable that he should not hear. " Her eyes are 
 good enough, I should say ; and I think," he added 
 in an aside to Mrs. Westerley, " that she is begin- 
 ning to know how to use them." 
 . Then there was, as always in those days, some 
 desultory war talk. 
 
 " Hester," said Arthur, " I shall come to see you 
 again, in my full war rig, before I go." 
 
 "I would rather you did not," she said to him 
 quietly. " I know you must go ; but I am a Caro- 
 linian, and I try to think nothing about this war. 
 I don't want to find out whether it is right or 
 wrong. It is awful to me, awful." 
 
 As she had grown older the girl had been led to 
 reflect more and more on her position and its diffi- 
 culties, and this sort of thoughtfulness was new and 
 surprising to Arthur. " How old she grows ! " he
 
 IN WAR TIME. 197 
 
 reflected. " I see, Hester," he said, " I see ! I 
 ought to have thought all that for myself." 
 
 " Thank you," she returned, feeling that he was 
 gentle and generous. 
 
 " And now let us have a truce to war," said the 
 hostess, who knew better than Arthur what was in 
 Hester's mind, and suspected that this incessant 
 war gossip might be unpleasant to her. " Come, 
 Hester, we will go ; " and so saying, Mrs. Wester- 
 ley rose, and left the men to their wine, remarking 
 as she passed Wendell, " Lest I forget it later, will 
 you kindly tell Miss Ann that I will come and see 
 her about Hester to-morrow ; a little early, about 
 twelve o'clock, I may say. And Edward, you will 
 take care of our friends ? " 
 
 The next day, when Alice Westerley entered 
 Miss Wendell's parlor, Dr. Wendell rose and came 
 in from the back room. His face, which was easily 
 moved, expressed clearly the pleasure of which he 
 was conscious whenever she was near him. Indeed, 
 it would have been hard for any one, and least of 
 all for one who was sensitive to beauty in form and 
 color and sound, not to have dwelt with growing 
 interest on one who combined all these attractions. 
 In no other woman whom he had known were the 
 mysteries of womanhood so developed. That he 
 did not understand her fully was a part of her 
 charm. Wendell himself was looking well. The 
 combination of a forehead which was delicately 
 moulded, and looked wiser than the man was, with 
 a mouth of unusual mobility, and free from the
 
 198 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 mask of the mustache, gave to his face an unusual 
 capacity to exhibit whatever feeling was dominant. 
 He was now under the elating influence of a new 
 idea, which he thought could be brought in time to 
 useful development. He had been seized with the 
 fancy that it would be interesting to search into, 
 and elaborate on paper, the differences between 
 American and European types of various maladies. 
 For this he meant to drop, as he said, for a time 
 other favorite subjects, for which he had collected 
 a good deal of material of value. Mere observa- 
 tion within restricted fields, under some organizing 
 and applicative mind, should have been his sole 
 function. When he came to a point in his studies 
 where it was needful to compare acquired facts, in 
 order to know how to observe further, or how to 
 obtain by experiment facts which should explain 
 the observations of the post-mortem table, he began 
 to find difficulties which usually ended in barring 
 Ms path, until some newer, and because newer more 
 fascinating, subject attracted for a time his easily 
 exhaustible energy. In fact, his mental ambitions 
 were high, his power to pursue them limited ; while 
 his capacity to be pleased with the recurrent dreams 
 of possible future intellectual achievements was as 
 remarkable as his failure to see why he constantly 
 failed to realize them. Hence, while respected as 
 a man with much general and scientific knowledge, 
 he was known among doctors as having contributed 
 nothing to their journals save barren reports of 
 cases, and to naturalists as a clever amateur. But
 
 IN WAR TIME. 199 
 
 of these sittings of a man by his fellows, the public 
 which is to use him learns little or nothing, so that 
 to Alice Westerley he represented the brilliant and 
 original physician, to be justified by the patient 
 issues of the years which go to the slow growth of 
 a doctor's reputation. 
 
 " I am very happy," he began, " to see you. But 
 now I must go." 
 
 Just then Ann Wendell, about to enter the room, 
 passed him as he went out, and Mrs. Westerley 
 heard her say, 
 
 " I thought, brother, there was a meeting at the 
 hospital about something." 
 
 " Yes, there is, Ann. But I was delayed." 
 " You can't possibly catch the train now." 
 " Oh, yes, I can. It is only a step." 
 " Well, hurry, Ezra," she said, and so left him ; 
 Alice Westerley beginning to have a faint sus- 
 picion that it was just possible he had lingered to 
 see her. To a woman accustomed to admiration 
 this was a trifling matter ; and the fact that he had 
 probably failed of a small duty thereby would have 
 been of no disturbing value in her estimates, until 
 iteration had given to such lapses a body of weight, 
 or until some chance had occurred to see the large 
 results of what seemed singly to be but trivial fail- 
 ures. 
 
 " You must excuse me," said Miss Wendell, re- 
 membering that in her haste she had spoken so as 
 to be overheard. " My brother has his mind so 
 full of his work that he forgets, sometimes."
 
 200 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " But what noble work," exclaimed Mrs. Wester- 
 ley, " and what a life of constant self-sacrifice ! " 
 
 Ann had heard all this before. She looked 
 calmly at life from standpoints of duty or relig- 
 ion, which did not vary. If she had said literally 
 what was in her mind, it would have been that doc- 
 tors knew pretty well what was before them ; or 
 else, being fast bound to their profession, ought 
 simply to accept as of their own making that which 
 it is pleasant to find other good people call self-sac- 
 rifice. But it is not in even as exactly moral a 
 nature as Ann's to be mathematically moral. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " I think it to be counted a 
 privilege when one is called to a life of much giv- 
 ing, even of what one is obliged to give." 
 
 " I hope he does not suffer from these constant 
 exposures in our rough weather ? I thought that 
 he looked better than common to-day." 
 
 " No ; he is what I call a strong man. And your 
 winters seem very mild to folks from the Cape. 
 Like all of us, he has now and then fits of the 
 blues ; but just at present he is very happy over 
 some new medical idea." 
 
 " About American and European diseases ? Oh, 
 yes, he spoke of it last night. I thought it so very 
 interesting ; and he tells me it is such a fresh 
 idea." 
 
 Ann was always calmly pleased when her brother 
 announced to her any of these novel views, which 
 at first sight assumed to him an importance im- 
 mense enough to justify the enthusiasm of which he
 
 IN WAR TIME. 201 
 
 was always capable at the outset of undertakings. 
 With his schemes, plans, or researches, as intellec- 
 tual interests, she had no true sympathy ; and it 
 would have been foreign to her nature and her nur- 
 ture to seem to be that which she was not, even for 
 his gratification. 
 
 " It must be delightful for my brother to find 
 people like yourself, who can enter into his ideas. 
 I am very stupid, you know," she added, placidly 
 smiling. " And really, I think Hester understands 
 him in some ways better than I do ! " 
 
 " Indeed ! " 
 
 " You know," she continued, for she was by 
 this time, it must be remembered, on terms of easy 
 acquaintanceship with Mrs. Westerley, " it is n't 
 always just quite agreeable to feel that some one 
 else can be in any way more to your brother than 
 you are, but certainly Hester is a great pleasure to 
 him. I sometimes tell him that I think if she were 
 older or he were younger, he would fall in love */ 
 with her ! " 
 
 This was not a pleasant idea to Mrs. Westerley. 
 She hardly knew why, but even as a jest it seemed 
 to her not quite what she would have called nice. 
 
 " No," she replied, setting aside with a well-prac- 
 ticed conversational device the later statement. " I 
 can understand that a woman who is the sister of 
 such a man as Dr. Wendell might well desire to be 
 everything to him in his life. But how well Hester 
 looks ! Your speaking of her makes me think of 
 what I came about. I want you to let me take her 
 to Newport in August. Won't you, Miss Ann ? "
 
 202 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Ann was willing enough. She liked Alice Wes- 
 terley as well as she could conscientiously like any 
 woman who had spent summers at Saratoga and in 
 London, and who dared to say, without sign of 
 compunction, that she had been to two balls in one 
 evening. Moreover, she had herself made up her 
 mind that chance, or, as she preferred to say, the 
 will of God, had taken out of her hands the respon- 
 sibility of Hester's training ; while also, perhaps, 
 there was in her mind, as the result of various cir- 
 cumstances, what the chemists would call a precipi- 
 tate of jealousy as to Hester's relations to her 
 brother. This was so easily stirred up that it was 
 apt to cloud her judgment, which naturally would 
 have made her wish to keep Hester as much as 
 possible within her own control. In morals and 
 social action, as in physics, it is common to find 
 that we act under the domination of a number of 
 influences, and submit in our decisions to what the 
 physicist calls a resultant of forces. 
 
 " I have no doubt," she replied, " that my 
 brother will feel that Mr. Gray would wish Hester 
 to be with you, at least a part of the summer." 
 
 " Thank you," said Alice. " I have already 
 mentioned it to him, and he has said that what you 
 would wish would be what he desired." 
 
 Ann would have preferred that her brother 
 should first have spoken to her. She had an un- 
 easy sense that he was in some vague manner mov- 
 ing away from her and her influence. 
 
 "And it will not be till August," added Mrs. 
 Westerley.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 203 
 
 " I think he will be glad of the delay, and Mr. 
 Edward Morton, too. He has almost taken posses- 
 sion of Hester since she came back." 
 
 " I am glad the poor fellow finds anything so 
 pleasant to interest him. He has such high stand- 
 ards that any one, old or young, must be the better 
 for his company." Then after some further chat 
 the widow rose. " I must go," she said. " My 
 love to Hester. Is she in ? " 
 
 "No; she has gone to walk with Arthur. I 
 asked them to leave a note at a Mrs. Grace's for 
 my brother." 
 
 " Mrs. Grace ? " exclaimed Alice, interrogatively, 
 and surprised into undue curiosity. 
 
 " Yes. She sent to ask him to call on her this 
 morning, and he had to write that he could not see 
 her till the afternoon." 
 
 " She has had six doctors in a year, my dear 
 Miss Ann, and she abuses them all in turn ! " 
 
 " Dear me," said Ann, " I hope she won't abuse 
 Ezra!" 
 
 Alice had her own views as to this, but she felt 
 self-convicted of having mildly gossiped about a 
 woman whom she detested, and she therefore held 
 her peace and went away ; still believing that, as 
 regarded Mrs. Grace, it might be wise to put her 
 friend the doctor on his guard. 
 
 Two days later, early in July, Arthur joined his 
 regiment. 
 
 " Don't say good-by," begged Edward. Slip 
 away without it. You will be back and forth, I
 
 204 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 suppose, and these good-bys in war times are too 
 hard. Always one thinks anew of what may hap- 
 pen. I told Hester that you would n't be here 
 again." 
 
 " But I must see her before I go, Ned. I came 
 here out of uniform on purpose to see her." 
 
 " Out of uniform Hum I see that 's right. 
 But really I would n't see her, if I were you. Just 
 oblige me about this." 
 
 " But I hate to go off that way." 
 
 "I know; but she has, as is natural, Arty, a 
 good deal of feeling about the war, and as she 
 grows older it deepens, and altogether, I think 
 I would just go away quietly." 
 
 "Well, Ned, I don't quite see it, and well, 
 I '11 do as you say ; but you '11 tell her, won't you ? " 
 
 " Yes, dear old boy, I '11 tell her ! After all, it 
 can't be to her quite what it is to me ; and yet even 
 I would far rather say good-by now." 
 
 " Then good-by, Ned." 
 
 " Don't be foolishly rash, Arty ; and God keep 
 you ! " 
 
 And so was said one of the million partings of 
 the great war. 
 
 " Poor Ned ! " murmured Arthur, feeling in his 
 poetic young heart all that the staying at home 
 meant for the gallant and high-minded gentleman 
 left looking after him, as he walked up the street 
 towards Mrs. Westerley's.
 
 XIV. 
 
 MRS. GRACE was the middle-aged wife of a mer- 
 chant, who had been first one of her father's clerks, 
 and then, through much industry and indifference 
 to anything but the begetting of dollars, his junior 
 partner. Like many men who win success in cities, 
 he had come from a country farm, and nothing was 
 more remote from his visions, when he became a 
 clerk, than the idea that, like the good apprentice, he 
 might marry his master's daughter. But when he 
 grew useful enough to be noticed, and to be asked 
 as a younger partner to dine at Mr. Johnston's 
 table, he fell an easy prey to the eldest daughter, 
 who, having seen three sisters married in turn, felt 
 that it was well to dismiss her hopes of position in 
 favor of the ruddy-faced, rather stout young man, 
 who was somewhat her junior. Mr. Johnston, who 
 was not over prosperous, knew full well the value 
 of Richard Grace, and realized the fact that he 
 ran some danger of losing his energetic partner. 
 It was true that his own family had been solid 
 merchants, with an accepted social position, for 
 three generations of absolute inactivity, except as 
 to varied fortunes in getting and losing money ; 
 but then, social considerations could not be allowed, 
 as he told his wife, to stand in the way of business,
 
 206 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 and therefore in due time his daughter became 
 Mrs. Grace, and had sons and daughters after her 
 kind. 
 
 The husband became what such men always be- 
 come. He prospered to a certain extent, and but 
 for the many arrows in his quiver might have been 
 called rich. He liked a quiet life ; drank a little 
 of a morning, a little more at bedtime ; drove a 
 fast horse late every afternoon, played euchre three 
 times a week, read the Ledger, and believed in the 
 Pennsylvania Railroad. There were two things in 
 his life he disliked ; one was that Colonel Fox, a 
 distant cousin of his wife, was the relentless trustee 
 of her small estate, which was bringing, in safe 
 ground rents, six per cent, in place of the ten 
 which her husband felt it would have brought in 
 his own business ; the other was his wife's tongue, 
 and the consequences thereof. When he stayed at 
 home on the off evenings of his euchre club, with- 
 out lifting his eyes from his newspaper he said " yes 
 yes " at such intervals as a long experience had 
 proved to him were reasonably competent to keep 
 her in the belief that he was listening. They were 
 in fact mutually unentertaining. As to what he 
 did, or in what enterprises he engaged, she was in 
 no wise concerned, nor did he himself conceive that 
 these were matters in which a woman should have 
 any share ; while, unless her heedless talk brought 
 him into trouble, and explanations became needful, 
 he had long ceased to listen, even at meal-times. 
 Nor was he much to blame. There was about hei
 
 IN WAR TIME. 207 
 
 mental operations a bewildering indefiniteness, 
 which baffled the best bred attention; and when 
 Mrs. Grace talked, what she was saying was as un- 
 likely to have any relation to what she had said be- 
 fore as are the successive contents of a naturalist's 
 trawl-net after deep-sea dredging. Her life had 
 been a feeble acetous fermentation. Her position 
 was less good than it had been. Her daughters 
 had married out of what she considered her own 
 proper sphere of social life ; and altogether she had 
 come by degrees to have a dull sense of being 
 somehow wronged. 
 
 It was out of reason to expect such a person not 
 to be critical of her more happy neighbors ; but 
 her criticism was after all less that of determined 
 malice than the mere simmering of a slow intelli- 
 gence, limited in its interests, and heated, or rather 
 but merely warmed, by disappointment, which like 
 everything else, she felt but vaguely. It is not, 
 however, to be presumed that such women are in- 
 operative in life. If they have ruled stolidly a 
 stolid family, they acquire dangerous habits of self- 
 assertion ; and as obstinacy is the armor of dull 
 minds, Mrs. Grace was apt, when attacked, to re- 
 treat within its shell, with changeless opinions. 
 There are some stupid people, and certain antago- 
 nistic but clever people, who enjoy in their different 
 ways the pleasure of holding theories, which they 
 treat like spoilt children, and indulge at the social 
 cost of others. Of such theories Mrs. Grace had 
 her share. She had a high estimate of her insight
 
 208 TN WAR TIME. 
 
 into maladies, dosed her helpless family a good 
 deal, and expected to be heard with attention by 
 her doctors, of whom, as a natural consequence, she 
 had many. She disbelieved in vaccination, and 
 had views as to the impropriety of experiments on 
 animals, which may have arisen, as Mrs. Wester- 
 ley said, from some mysterious defensive instinct 
 as to transmutation in kind. 
 
 The Sanitary Commission was a great resource 
 at present in Mrs. Grace's life, and late in the 
 morning of the day she had sent for Wendell she 
 entered the busy room of its local office with a 
 sense of tranquil satisfaction. Here she found 
 Ann Wendell, aided by Hester, busily engaged in 
 inspecting and sorting undergarments intended to 
 be sent to Pennsylvania regiments. Alice Wester- 
 ley was occupied at a table with accounts, and two 
 or three older and some younger women were sew- 
 ing, or packing different articles. 
 
 Alice Westerley nodded to the new-comer, and 
 the other women, who represented very various de- 
 grees of social life brought together by one pur- 
 pose, spoke to her as she came in. 
 
 " What is there to-day ? " she asked Miss Wen- 
 dell. 
 
 "Oh, everything," replied Ann. "You might 
 help Hester to pack these socks. This is Mrs. 
 Grace, Hester. Make room for her, my dear." 
 
 " What a tall girl you are ! " said Mrs. Grace, 
 and knelt down, talking as she somewhat sluggishly 
 helped to pack the box between them. " And yon 
 are Miss Wendell's niece, Hester?"
 
 IN WAR TIME. 209 
 
 " No, I am not her niece." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I remember, her ward." 
 
 "Oh, no, I am not that, either," answered the 
 girl, whose instincts were quick and defensive. 
 
 " Now, I remember : Sarah that 's my daugh- 
 ter told me about you, and how your father was 
 killed. And, you know, Sarah says you are en- 
 gaged to Arthur Morton." 
 
 " I am not engaged to Mr. Arthur Morton ! " ex- 
 claimed the girl, coloring as much with anger as 
 with shame. " I am a young girl at school, and I 
 do not see why any one should say such things 
 about me." 
 
 " But you know you look eighteen, my dear, 
 quite eighteen. I suppose your dress the way 
 you are dressed makes you look less young." 
 
 " I dare say I seem older than I am," said Hes- 
 ter. 
 
 " But you might be nineteen, to look at you. 
 You know Dr. Wendell is to be my doctor." 
 
 " Indeed ! " And Hester nervously crammed 
 away rebellious socks into the unoccupied corners 
 left by Mrs. Grace's clumsy stowage. 
 
 " I sent for him because he believes in malaria." 
 
 Hester was silent, and so aroused Mrs. Grace's 
 dull suspicions. 
 
 " He does believe in malaria, does n't he ? I 
 mean in Germantown. Dr. Mason says it's non- 
 sense ; but then I never have agreed with him. 
 He did say, though, that Sarah had malaria, and 
 after all it was measles ; but I think measles is
 
 210 72V WAR TIME. 
 
 malaria," she added, with a sense of trimphant 
 logic. " There must be an awful amount of mala- 
 ria on the Potomac." 
 
 " I hardly think I know anything about it," re- 
 turned Hester, and went on packing, her thoughts 
 meanwhile far away with Arty and the war ; for 
 even the poorest husbandman may effectively sow 
 
 " I should say Arthur Morton would be a right 
 good match for almost any girl," observed Mrs. 
 Grace, with her amazing capacity for dangerous 
 digression. 
 
 Hester looked down resolutely, wondering if the 
 woman could know what thoughts were in her 
 mind. The simple purity of a nature trembling at 
 the gates of womanhood was disgusted and dis- 
 turbed at this rude criticism of her most pleasant 
 relations in life. 
 
 But Mrs. Westerley, having ended her work, was 
 standing over them, and had overheard the last 
 sentence. 
 
 " You are packing very badly, Hester," she said, 
 which was true. " Leave that to Mrs. Grace, and 
 come and copy this list." 
 
 Hester rose, with a look of relief, and went to 
 the desk. 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Westerley," she whispered, "what a 
 dreadful person ! " 
 
 " Yes, my child, but never mind." 
 
 Then Mrs. Grace investigated Ann Wendell's 
 views as to vaccination, and was gently amazed to
 
 IN WAR TIME. 211 
 
 find that Ann had no particular views at all on this 
 matter. Not so, however, Miss Clemson, her neigh- 
 bor, a tall young woman, with a thin, pugnacious 
 nose, and a mind quite too satisfactorily logical to 
 be attractive to the common masculine mind, which 
 finds a mysterious gratification in the indefiniteness 
 of young women. 
 
 "Vaccination? " she said distinctly, while the 
 surrounding persons looked up with the pleased 
 sense of something amusing in prospect, " vacci- 
 nation ? Have you ever made a study of the sub- 
 ject ? That is, have you ever really inquired into 
 the statistics ? " She spoke with a clear and de- 
 liberate articulation. 
 
 " No ; but I have my opinions." 
 
 " You say No. Is that a negation of the value 
 of vaccination ? Because you must be aware," she 
 continued blandly, " that that would be a mere rep- 
 etition of what you have just stated. Now, an 
 accurate examination of the statistics of variola " 
 
 " Of what ? " asked Mrs. Grace. 
 
 " Of variola," repeated Miss Clemson, not stop- 
 ping to explain " would show that before Jen- 
 ner's time " 
 
 " Oh, I know ! " interrupted Mrs. Grace. " I 
 have seen all that in the papers, over and over ; 
 but I need not say that that does n't satisfy me. I 
 think you will find Dr. Wendell agrees with me. 
 Is n't it so, Miss Wendell ? " 
 
 Ann kept silence. She did not know anything 
 about it, except that her brother did vaccinate peo-
 
 212 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 pie ; and also, it may be added, the wisdom and 
 great good of holding her tongue had been borne 
 in upon her, as she said, with effective clearness. 
 
 As she paused, unwilling to reply, Alice Wester- 
 ley, perceiving her difficulty, said, smiling, "And 
 of course you do not have your own children vacci- 
 nated?" 
 
 "My children are vaccinated because Kichard 
 would have it. Richard is just too awfully obsti- 
 nate. Sarah says ' he 's a regular piece de r6sis- 
 tance.' I Ve mostly forgotten my French, but I 
 guess that 's about what he is. But that does n't 
 change my mind." 
 
 Alice Westerley and Miss Clemson exchanged 
 furtive glances of amusement, and one young wom- 
 an fled, convulsed with suppressed laughter, into 
 the back storeroom. 
 
 At last Miss Clemson attained sufficient compos- 
 ure to murmur, " Oh, of course not ; but perhaps 
 you might agree with him if you were to read Dr. 
 Jenner's original treatise." 
 
 "Oh, I presume you've read it," said Mrs. 
 Grace. 
 
 "Yes, I have," returned Miss Clemson, simply. 
 In fact, there were few things she had not read 
 about, and her memory made her a dangerous oppo- 
 nent. 
 
 " "Won't you ask for labels, Mrs. Grace ? " said 
 Alice, wishing to stop the talk, and longing for a 
 solitary laugh. 
 
 Mrs. Grace rose heavily, and saying, " No one
 
 IN WAR TIME. 213 
 
 should vaccinate me," went into a back room in 
 search of the desired articles. 
 
 " I do not think I envy Dr. Wendell, Miss Ann," 
 began an indiscreet miss at her side. " They say 
 she has a doctor every two months, and that " 
 
 " Hush," exclaimed Alice Westerley ; " don't let 's 
 talk gossip here. We are getting to be as bad as 
 a Dorcas meeting ! " 
 
 " Was that gossip, Mrs. Westerley ? " asked the 
 young person. " I thought anybody could talk 
 about doctors." 
 
 " Doctors ! " said Alice, laughing, " doctors, 
 indeed ! You know that you were not discussing 
 doctors ! " 
 
 " Mrs. Westerley is right," added Miss Clemson. 
 "There is no need to talk about persons at all, 
 Susie." 
 
 " But were n't you talking about a Dr. Jenner ? " 
 replied the young person, calmly triumphant. 
 
 " Good heavens ! " exclaimed Miss Clemson. 
 
 " And what did I say ? " went on Miss Susan ; 
 and there was a burst of laughter, which cleared 
 the air, and amidst which Hester and Miss Wen- 
 dell went away with the widow. 
 
 Then Mrs. Grace returned to the room, having 
 been unable to find the labels, " And would n't Miss 
 Susie find them ? " which enabled that young per- 
 son to drop her work, and chatter with a clerk and 
 two other maidens in the back room. 
 
 " What were you all laughing at ? " questioned 
 Mrs. Grace, all unexplained mirth being suspi- 
 ciously unpleasant to her.
 
 214 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " We were laughing at one of those chatterbox 
 girls," returned Miss Clemson. 
 
 " Oh, was that all ? And where is Alice Wes- 
 terley?" said Mrs. Grace, who by no means in- 
 dulged in so naming that lady when present, but 
 who had no objection to the varied circle within 
 earshot supposing her to be on terms of intimacy 
 with the widow. Mrs. Grace was beginning to 
 feel quite decisively the effects of that gradual fall 
 from a good position which is so common a feature 
 of American life, and which had already begun to 
 show in her parents. In colonial days her people 
 had won much money, and with it the chance of 
 culture ; but, as old Mr. Wilmington said, they 
 were like some wines, and did n't take kindly to 
 fining. In another generation they would disap- 
 pear socially, having failed in the competitions of 
 our uneasy life. Mrs. Grace had in fact an indis- 
 tinct sense of lapsing from her rank, and her chil- 
 dren were still sinking, and did not care about it, 
 or perhaps as yet did not feel it. 
 
 "Don't you think our Sanitary should have a 
 new president, since Mrs. Morton does n't appear 
 to come back ? " asked this lady. 
 
 "I cannot see why," replied Miss Clemson. 
 "Mrs. Westerley is vice-president, and that an- 
 swers every purpose." 
 
 "And a good one," assented Mrs. Bullock, a 
 motherly woman in the corner, ceasing to count the 
 pile of garments before her. "We should only 
 just change her title, if we made her president, and 
 of course we could not elect any one else."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 215 
 
 That was not at all Mrs. Grace's idea. She her- 
 self had dimly felt aspirations after office, but she 
 had sense enough to say, " Oh, yes, of course not," 
 which was sufficient; and then she added, "And 
 where is Miss Wendell?" 
 
 "Gone with Mrs. Westerley." 
 
 " Oh ! They do say she is going to marry that 
 doctor." 
 
 "Who do say?" queried Miss Clemson; "and 
 who is to marry who ? " 
 
 " Oh, several say. You know he 's there all the 
 time ; and for my part I do not see how a young 
 woman like that can be so imprudent as to have , 
 an unmarried man for her doctor." 
 
 " Is she ever ill ? " asked the matron in the 
 corner. 
 
 " Oh, I suppose so, or why should he go there ? " 
 
 *' I should not believe that he went there at all, 
 at least without proof. How often does he go 
 there, Mrs. Grace ? " It was a question for inves- 
 tigation with Miss Clemson. She was too accurate 
 for perfect manners, but was nevertheless well 
 bred. 
 
 " I suppose you would n't doubt my word ? " 
 
 " Oh, no," replied Miss Clemson, who was in a 
 high state of disgust, "not your word; only your 
 power of observation, or perhaps your talent for 
 arithmetic. When people are slandered, I like to 
 ask for proofs." 
 
 Mrs. Grace was silent a moment, but a rosy 
 young woman came to her aid, who showed already
 
 216 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 a reasonable promise of being in middle life a bore 
 of great inertia, having the gift of indefinitely ex- 
 plaining minute commonplaces, and being, as yet, 
 * so pretty that her face was a bribe to some measure 
 of endurance. " I think Mrs. Grace means that 
 when a doctor goes very often, and when you know 
 he is a young man, and when you see he is hand- 
 some, why, I think it must make a difference." 
 
 Miss Clemson beat an impatient tattoo on the 
 table with her thimbled forefinger. 
 
 Then Mrs. Grace announced with emphasis, as if 
 she had really thought it all over, " Yes, it must 
 make a difference. It must make a great differ- 
 ence." 
 
 " I don't think," remarked Mrs. Bullock, " that 
 I understand quite." 
 
 " Who could ! " cried Miss Clemson. " But this 
 much I understand : that Mrs. Grace desires us to 
 believe that there is some impropriety in Mrs. 
 Westerley being attended, when ill, by Dr. Wen- 
 dell. I hope Mrs. Grace will not feel hurt if I say 
 that all this kind of gossip is dangerous." 
 
 "You are right," said Mrs. Bullock, who felt 
 that, true or not, it was hardly the kind of talk to 
 which young girls should be made to listen. 
 
 " All of which does n't change my opinion," put 
 in Mrs. Grace. 
 
 " And are you quite willing I should tell Mrs. 
 Westerley ? " asked Miss Clemson. 
 
 " Good gracious, no ! " returned Mrs. Grace, 
 " Why should any one tell her ? "
 
 7.2V WAR TIME. 217 
 
 "Then why," continued Miss Clemson, "need 
 any one say such things? I hate gossip; it is 
 always inaccurate." 
 
 "Oh, I don't think Mrs. Grace meant to gos- 
 sip," exclaimed the forward young person from her 
 corner. 
 
 " I never gossip," said Mrs. Grace, " but I have 
 my own opinions." 
 
 " Then let us all have our own opinions, and keep 
 them, like other precious things, to ourselves," re- 
 turned Miss Clemson, wearily. " Where are those 
 labels, Susie?" 
 
 If any one had told Mrs. Grace that she was 
 maliciously sowing a slander, it would have sur- 
 prised that lady. She was simply saying what 
 came uppermost, and her mind, as Arty once said, 
 was " like our Christmas grab-bag : you never 
 knew what you would pull out." Nevertheless, she 
 had done some evil, ignorantly or not, and evil has 
 a feline tenacity of life. 
 
 For the present no more came of it than that 
 Mrs. Bullock, who had overheard Mrs. Grace's talk 
 with Hester, thought it well to say to Mrs. Wester- 
 ley something about the strong desire they all felt 
 that Mrs. Grace should by no good-nature of Mrs. 
 Westerley be allowed to become the head of their 
 branch of the Commission. 
 
 "Rest easy, my dear," said the widow; "not 
 while I am alive." 
 
 " She ought to be shut up," returned the matron. 
 u I do think, Mrs. Westerley, there are some people
 
 218 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 in the penitentiary who have done less harm in 
 their lives. You should have heard her talk to 
 Hester Gray about being engaged to young Mor- 
 ton ! It was simply disgusting, and " 
 
 "No doubt," broke in Alice, "but I do not 
 think she really wants to hurt anybody. For my 
 part, I hardly care to hear what she said, and for 
 that reason I interrupted you. You won't mind 
 my interrupting you, but I am really ashamed to 
 confess that sometimes what that woman says has 
 the power to make me unreasonably angry." 
 
 " Well, it 's all right. I had nothing else to 
 say." This was hardly more true than Mrs. Grace's 
 gossip ; but the speaker was glad to have had time 
 to reflect, and had hastily concluded that what she 
 had meant to add further were best left unsaid. 
 
 The summer sped away, and the war went on its 
 unrelenting course as Grant drew tighter his par- 
 alyzing lines around Petersburg, and the wearied 
 rebel army struggled with the vigor of a brave race 
 against men as gallant and more numerous ; while 
 to the little circle of friends Arthur's frequent and 
 clever letters brought a new and anxious interest in 
 this dreadful death-wrestle. 
 
 Hester was changing in a way that surprised 
 Ann Wendell, and both surprised and interested 
 Alice. By degrees the effects of her former dreary 
 school life and the subsequent sense of isolation, as 
 well as the shock and terror of her father's death, 
 were wearing off. For a long while, and more and
 
 IN WAR TIME. 219 
 
 more as with larger knowledge she realized this 
 novel experience of a death, its memory oppressed 
 the girl at times ; but time is stronger in the young 
 than any memories, however sad, and Hester was 
 now exhibiting such joy of happy thoughtlessness 
 as belongs of pleasant right to her age. 
 
 Alice Westerley saw plainly that Hester showed, 
 as she grew older, a little too much tendency to be 
 her own mistress, a fault which was due rather 
 to the early lack of firm home training than to 
 any uneradicable peculiarity in Hester's mental or 
 moral structure. The widow, like Mrs. Morton, 
 had also her doubts as to whether Ann Wendell 
 was exactly the person to mould or manage a light- 
 hearted girl of resolute nature, and felt a certain 
 anxiety as to whether Hester was to look for per- 
 manent help from Henry Gray, or was to be de- 
 pendent upon her own exertions. It was best, she 
 thought, to assume that the latter was to be the 
 case ; but yet it was not in Alice's kindly nature to 
 be able to feel that so young and joyous a creature 
 should be on this account made to know too early 
 the bitterness of having to look forward into a 
 future of self-sustaining labor among absolute stran- 
 gers. She would at least take her to Newport, and 
 see, as she said. Meanwhile she wrote to Henry 
 Gray, who was like a bird on the wing for restless- 
 ness, and who for some reason made no reply. 
 
 Yet whatever were Alice's doubts and fears, 
 there were none now for Hester, nor for Edward 
 Morton. His health was still infirm, and likely to
 
 220 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 be so for life ; but even his occasional pain and 
 sleeplessness only tended to make him more and 
 more dependent upon Hester's gentle help. 
 
 They had gone out together for an afternoon 
 drive, which meant usually a little wandering about 
 through lanes and by-roads behind a lazy old horse, 
 which they hitched to a fence now and then, while 
 they gathered flowers, or looked for grubs and 
 beetles, or watched ant-heaps by the hour. Hester 
 had thus come to know by degrees the beauty of 
 that charming neighborhood, happily preserved to- 
 day by the Park inclosures ; and it was a fresh de- 
 light when her friend could show her some new 
 lane, or discuss with her, book in hand and map on 
 knee, their doubts as to the track of Revolutionary 
 armies, or with equal interest the family name of 
 a fern or a butterfly. They were both somewhat 
 silent, as they drove lazily along, on this their last 
 summer afternoon together, until at last Edward 
 said, smiling, " Queer, is n't it, Hester, that as this 
 is our last chance for a good gabble we should both 
 be mum as mice ! Let us improve the occasion, as 
 Miss Ann's preacher says. Look down the river. 
 What a leaf crop there is this year ! " 
 
 They crossed the Schuylkill at the Falls' Bridge, 
 and passed southward along the bank, until at last 
 the young man said, " We will try the hill here, 
 Hester. I want to show you something ; but I 
 shall need help. Give me my stick, and let us go 
 slowly, and halt as often as the Potomac army." 
 
 Then, tardily enough, for he walked with difli-
 
 7^ WAR TIME. 221 
 
 culty, they crossed the Reading railroad, and 
 climbed up a narrow, sunken lane, brier-set and 
 dark with sumach and dogwood. " We are on the 
 old inclined plane of the railway, Hester," he said, 
 as he paused for breath near the summit. " And 
 this is our way, here, to the right ; " and so saying 
 he broke through a close, wild hedge of alders and 
 judas-trees, and turned with pleasure to see the joy 
 of the eager young face at his side. Before them 
 lay a. rolling bit of grass land, bounded on three 
 sides by forest, much as it is to-day ; not far away 
 rose a green hillside, above a gray stone spring 
 house, and to their right, in the woods, a brook 
 chuckled merrily noisy answers to the dauntless 
 catbirds, who love the wood edges, and the wood 
 robin, who likes its darkened depths. The trees 
 about them stirred the girl's unaffected love of na- 
 ture. " These be honest gentlemen," said Edward, 
 standing bareheaded. Three matchless tulip pop- 
 lars, stateliest of trees, rose serene, with moveless 
 shining leaves, beside the more feminine gracious- 
 ness of a group of maples, perfect as to form and 
 densely clad in August greenery. " Ah, Hester," 
 he said, " you who love trees should say a prayer 
 for him who spared these noble fellows. But here 
 is my spring. This is what we came to see." 
 
 At an angle of the wood was a quiet little pool 
 of cold water, set about with narrow slabs of mar- 
 ble stained with the fallen leafage of many an au- 
 tumn. In its depths pink willow rootlets, which 
 our boys call foxtails, were tangled with the white
 
 
 222 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 roots of a sturdy maple, which rose in wholesome 
 strength above the surrounding trees. Hester knelt 
 down, and, smiling, saw her face set in the brown 
 mirror's little square of mottled sun and shade. 
 
 As she looked, Edward stood over her, and she 
 saw his face in the still spring, beside her own. 
 She laughed prettily, and bent over to drink ; but 
 looked up as she touched the water. " I have 
 drunk you all up, Mr. Edward ! " she cried, still 
 laughing. Edward shrank back. Disease had 
 made the once strong young man unnaturally sensi- 
 tive and nervous. He remembered the story of this 
 little forest well, and how once a fair maiden, 
 drinking here, like this girl, had seen of a sudden, 
 beside her own face, that of a man ; and how she 
 had come to love that sombre face ; and how in 
 after years its owner had wrecked her life, and be- 
 trayed his country in its darkest hour. 
 
 Hester arose, seeing the trouble in her friend's 
 face. 
 
 " What is it ? " she asked, " What is the mat- 
 ter?" 
 
 " Nothing," he returned hastily. " A little tired, 
 I suppose." 
 
 He wondered, indeed, at the strange stir and tu- 
 mult in himself. Not for the world would he have 
 told her that grim legend of Arnold's well. " Come 
 away ! " he exclaimed. " Let us see what there is 
 in our bag. I am all right now. We have a lot 
 of jolly queer things. How the doctor will like it ! 
 I sometimes wonder now, Hester, how I could ever
 
 IN WAR TIME. 223 
 
 have so despaired of life. What helpful things 
 books are ! Don't you marvel what sick folks did 
 in the Middle Ages ? I mean poor devils of half- 
 sick folks, like me." 
 
 " I think," said the girl, doubtfully, " they must 
 have looked even more at the skies and the flowers 
 than we do ; but I don't know, really. If I were 
 sick, I should n't be as patient as you. Mrs. Wes- 
 ter ley tells me I am sometimes impatient, now." 
 
 " But why does she say that ? " 
 
 " Indeed, I don't know. No, I hardly mean 
 that : I do know very well ! She scolded me a lit- 
 tle yesterday, and I suppose I was n't quite as 
 meek as I ought to have been. But I have prom- 
 ised to be so awfully good at Newport ! " 
 
 " Little scamp ! It 's a nice place for you to be- 
 gin a career of goodness. I would n't trust you ! " 
 
 " Yes, you would ! I should n't like it if you 
 ceased to trust me. Oh, there is a droll-looking 
 bug ! I wonder what it is ! " 
 
 " Let the bugs alone, little friend, and come and 
 sit down. I am mortally tired." 
 / Then the girl found that perhaps she too was 
 tired, which was scarcely the case ; but she was 
 tenderly thoughtful with and for Edward. 
 
 " Let us read Arthur's letter," she suggested. 
 "I have been saving it, as Miss Ann says, for 
 ' gooding.' " 
 
 " What a nice old English word ! There 's a 
 stump for me, and you can lie on the grass. And 
 now for dear old Arty," said Edward, as he cast a
 
 224 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 pleased look at Hester, who was opening Arthur's 
 letter with that dainty care which, to a more expe- 
 rienced observer than her companion, might have 
 gone far to tell her modest secret. 
 
 As he looked down upon her, a thought came to 
 him of the contrast between her vigorous and grow- 
 ing life and his own increasing feebleness ; and, 
 \l looking up, Hester saw him gazing past her, dream- 
 ing. What meaning there was in the profound 
 sadness of his eyes she did not comprehend ; but 
 seeing the sadness, was by instinct moved with 
 some sweet womanly equality of mere emotion. 
 
 " What is it, Mr. Edward? " she said. 
 
 " Nothing, dear," he answered ; but there was a 
 look of grievous defeat about the young man, and 
 when, in after-years, Hester stood before the 
 stricken lion of Lucerne, some remembrance of her 
 hour at the spring, beneath the maples, came back 
 to her, and with eyes full of tears she turned away. 
 " Don't mind me," he continued ; " go on. What 
 does the living say to the dead, Hester ? " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " she answered cheerfully. " That 
 does n't sound like you. You are worth some dozen 
 of certain live folks I know." 
 
 " Then your acquaintance must have queer lim- 
 itations. What does he say ? " 
 
 " Mr. Arthur says," she replied, carefully spread- 
 ing out the letter on her lap, "he says " 
 
 " But why do you say ' Mr. Arthur ' ? " 
 
 "Oh, I am practicing," said Hester, with a 
 wicked demureness of repressed fun. " That was 

 
 IN WAR TIME. 225 
 
 what Mrs. Westerley lectured me about yester- 
 day." 
 
 " No ! not really ? Why, she is worse than 
 mamma." 
 
 " Yes. She orders authoritatively that I am to 
 call you both ' Mr. Morton.' Mrs. Westerley does 
 not approve of the way young girls have of calling 
 men by their first names. Do you understand ? " 
 
 Edward whistled. " And when does it begin ? " 
 
 " Oh, I begged off till I come back. I said it 
 would n't seem so sudden then." 
 
 "I shall be told to call you Miss Gray, next." 
 
 " Oh, no ! " 
 
 "Oh, yes! Why not?" 
 
 " But I won't like that, at aU ! I won't have it ; 
 and Arty he " 
 
 " Wait a little, my dear ; you don't know Mrs. 
 Alice. She will have her way, you will find ; and 
 as to * Won't,' you know what happened to 
 him?" 
 
 " Yes, I know. But I like him well ; and I like 
 all his family, ' Sha'n't,' and ' Can't,' and the 
 rest." 
 
 " A bad connection, Miss Gray," he said, smil- 
 ing. "But what about Arty? Mr. Morton, I 
 should say." 
 
 " Mr. Morton says : 
 
 "DEAR QUEEN ESTHER [that's for short, I 
 fancy], I suppose the newspapers tell you all 
 about us in general; more, in fact, than we know 
 ourselves. Fox swears like cur army in Flanders
 
 
 226 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 (every one swears in the army, except me) when 
 the reporters come to our bivouac. And, by the 
 bye, tell Ned to send me some onions and a little 
 old Rye. Don't forget the onions. He knows 
 where there 's some at home. I mean Rye. Yester- 
 day we had a little relief from this endless drill 
 and loafing. The colonel gives us no peace about 
 drilling. There was an alarm at daybreak, and 
 we had a sharp affair with a [something it 
 is blotted out] Confederate regiment." (He had 
 written Carolina, but remembering what eyes were 
 to see it had erased the number and State, which 
 would have told Hester that it was her father's old 
 regiment.) 
 
 " Fox had a near thing of it, and I was twice in 
 among their guns. Had to come out again in a 
 hurry. I thought of " 
 
 Here the girl paused, confused. 
 
 "Oh, I know," said Edward. "He thought of 
 me. Go on ; I can stand it ! " 
 
 Hester looked down. "I thought of my dear 
 Ned, and knowing how much better a soldier he 
 would have made than I, wished he might have 
 been with me. But don't think I like it at all. 
 Any one who says they like it is stupid, or lies. I 
 don't. I never realized until now how dreadful is 
 war ; but I think I know that I ought to be here, 
 and why. Yet when a fellow is in the thick of one 
 of these mad rushes at death through smoke, there 
 is something of a wild joy about it. At all events, 
 it does one some good. That is, it does the decent
 
 IN WAR TIME. 227 
 
 fellows good. It seems to me I am older by years 
 in these few months; but then, for people who 
 think at all, there is time and material here for 
 thinking, and much to learn about war out of books 
 on tactics, and so on, with practical lessons at inter- 
 vals. Edward, who was always the boldest man I 
 know, keeps writing me not to accept needless peril. 
 Tell him I do not mean to. It is really necessary 
 sometimes for officers to expose themselves as ex- 
 amples, when men are shaky, but not often. I 
 think of it now because that was just what Fox did 
 yesterday. We are all lying down, or in shelter, 
 having made a stand after what came near being a 
 stampede ; and what does Fox do but begin to walk 
 up and down, with a cigarette in his mouth, pre- 
 tending to be using his field-glass. I got up as he 
 passed me, and said, 'Let me do that, sir;' and 
 what did he say but ' Lie down, or you '11 get hit ; 
 and when you address me, sir, be good enough to 
 salute.' And the balls were as thick as mosquitoes 
 in a Jersey marsh. Oh, Hester, one must see a 
 \/ man in the ennui of camp, and then in the field, to 
 know him. It seems to me that what I have heard 
 Dr. Lagrange say of disease is true of war. It 
 ruins some men morally, and some it makes nobler, 
 like my brother Ned ! " 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Edward, is n't that just like Arty ! " 
 said Hester, pausing. 
 
 " Arty is a dear old goose about me," returned 
 Edward. " He thinks I am a patient martyr, but 
 he does n't know how much I have wriggled at the 
 stake."
 
 228 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " I have everything, I think," went on Hester, 
 rising, and standing thoughtfully before him, the 
 letter in her hand, " everything ; but I am not 
 as patient as you who have so little." 
 
 " You can't count another man's wealth, child. I 
 have my little Hester, and this August day, and 
 these woods, and all the strange world I am peeping 
 into." 
 
 "Yes, I know," murmured Hester, softly, the 
 morn of womanhood, that was waking under the 
 fading dusk of childish indifferences to the larger 
 trials of life, beginning to glow with warmth of ap- 
 preciative feeling. 
 
 " It is n't bad for any one to know how much he 
 is a help in other folks' lives," continued Edward. 
 " It makes him better, too, I dare say. And now 
 for more help. Give me a hand, now a good 
 pull. I must heft pretty heavy, as Miss Ann says. 
 We '11 keep the rest of Arty's letter for to-night. 
 There seems to be a lot of it, and it is late. I hope 
 my horse has kept quiet. I wish he was nearer ; I 
 am pretty tired." 
 
 The next day Hester went to Newport, whence 
 she wrote to Edward often, and to Arthur rarely. 
 Alice perceived well enough where this close in- 
 timacy of two attractive young folks might end, 
 but scarcely saw how to lessen the danger ; and 
 now, feeling more and more that she disliked the 
 responsibility, she wrote to Mrs. Morton quite 
 frankly, but only to learn that Morton would not 
 return until he was fit for duty, and that of course 
 she, Mrs. Morton, did not fancy the idea of a match
 
 IN WAR TIME. 229 
 
 of this kind at all, and knew Alice would discour- 
 age whatever might make it a possible event all 
 of which left Mrs. Westerley quite as helpless and 
 more anxious than before, and not much comforted 
 by this final phrase of her friend's letter. 
 
 " For after all," she wrote, " I dare say you are 
 mistaken ; and then young men always have one or 
 two affairs of this kind. They are pretty bad for a 
 girl, I think, but they do not hurt men," which 
 to Alice, who was very much attached to Hester, 
 seemed on the whole to partake rather strongly of 
 the selfishness of maternal affection, and to be a 
 little too like Helen Morton, who was apt to think 
 first of her own children, and in their relations to 
 others of them alone. 
 
 Meanwhile, Mrs. "Westerley, as she found, had 
 her hands full at Newport, where she had many 
 friends, and where it was difficult always to leave 
 Hester out of the constant social engagements of 
 that charming place. 
 
 " Luckily," she wrote to Mrs. Morton, " most of 
 \s the nicer young men are where they should be, at 
 the war ; but there are enough and too many older 
 lads, on their vacation holidays ; and even with 
 your ideas and mine, it is hard to keep this very 
 gay young lady from seeing that she is admired, 
 and from being disappointed because I do not al- 
 low her to go about as she does at Germantown." 
 
 Nevertheless, Hester enjoyed this new life, and 
 saw enough of men, old and young, in Mrs. Wes- 
 terley's drawing-room to widen her horizon as to 
 the general opinion of Miss Gray.
 
 230 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 With some little interior mutiny of criticism, 
 Hester came to yield tranquilly enough to her 
 friend's social discipline, and to observe that among 
 the class of girls she saw and found pleasant, the 
 most of them were quite as much controlled as she. 
 Then she began, as Alice delayed leaving Newport, 
 to enjoy still more the refined culture of its linger- 
 ing lovers, and to return with fresh zest to outdoor 
 enjoyments. 
 
 " Now," she wrote to Wendell, " there is, as it 
 were, a new spring, just as if the flowers had 
 come again to say good-by ; and there are golden- 
 rods above the beaches, and little dandelions, 
 smaller than in spring, are here (I don't think they 
 are true dandelions, but I left my Gray's Botany 
 at home) ; and then there is a purple flower, which 
 an old lady told me was the Michaelmas daisy. I 
 think it is an aster, and so pretty; and what the 
 people call freckled alders, with red berries. And 
 oh, you should see the cliffs, and the sea ! I never 
 saw it before, and now it seems like an old friend ; 
 and if I only had you and Arty and Edward, I 
 should be just too happy. But why does n't Arty 
 write ? We have ceased to hear at all." 
 
 Arty had other business on hand, and was in the 
 thick of the savage fighting that resulted in the de- 
 struction of the Weldon railroad, and of which 
 news soon reached his anxious friends at the North. 
 Late in September Mrs. Westerley returned to her 
 home, and Hester went back, with no great satis- 
 faction, to her school life.
 
 XV. 
 
 FOR Wendell and his sister the winter brought 
 little visible change. The great plan for an essay 
 on American diseases somehow faded away, and 
 was as yet without a successor. Dr. Lagrange had, 
 however, been ordered from the hospital, and a new 
 and alert volunteer surgeon, with his head full of 
 improvements, was making it uncomfortable for 
 Wendell ; so that his hours had to be rearranged, 
 and he felt that it would be much more pleasant to 
 be free from the shackles of even as little army 
 discipline as his relations to a hospital involved. 
 
 Ann, of course, altogether disapproved of a res- 
 ignation by her brother. The money loss of eighty 
 dollars a month seemed to her a very serious mat- 
 ter ; but to Wendell his personal convenience was 
 far more important, and overruled for the time all 
 other considerations. He was cautious not to allow 
 his sister to suspect that, beside the difficulty she 
 found in meeting their daily expenses, for Ann 
 allowed no bills to accumulate unpaid, he was 
 annoyed by the results of his own folly in buying 
 new lenses and expensive books, and now and then 
 some rare engraving. 
 
 Had young Morton understood the true state of 
 things, he would have been quick to aid his friends ;
 
 232 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 but he knew that he paid them liberally for the 
 home and the care that they gave him, and as Wen- 
 dell never considered or talked about what things 
 cost, and Ann was too proudly self-sustaining to 
 allow of a stranger seeing her growing necessities, 
 Edward lived on without suspicion, and was the 
 more likely to be free from it because he had always 
 been so lifted above money cares that the possibility 
 of them was the last thing he would have been 
 likely to think about. 
 
 It was well into January when Ann said to her 
 brother, " I am sorry to trouble you, brother Ezra, 
 I know how you dislike it, but I must have 
 more money. I save what I can, but Mr. Edward 
 needs all sorts of luxuries. I did think that when 
 Hester was so nicely provided for, we should go 
 along more comfortably." 
 
 " I don't see where the money all goes, Ann," he 
 returned helplessly. " I am sure I spend very lit- 
 tle." 
 
 "Are you certain of that, Ezra? There was 
 that microscope, and " 
 
 " Oh, Ann, am I never to hear the last of that 
 microscope ! " 
 
 " And those new lenses, were n't they very 
 dear?" 
 
 " No. I can always sell them for what they cost. 
 A good lens is just like gold." 
 
 " But that cyclopaedia." 
 
 " A man really must have the tools of his profes- 
 sion, Ann ; and I gave up all idea of the carriage."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 238 
 
 Ann groaned. "I do wish I could help you 
 more. I sometimes think I am of less use to you 
 than I was " 
 
 , Being a woman, and therefore automatically sac- 
 rificial, she could not estimate the immense pro- 
 portion of energy she thrust, somehow, into his 
 daily life, nor recall, in her self -negation, how often 
 she remembered his engagements, or urged him to 
 leave his microscope to face the winds of a cold 
 night to make some professional visit which he 
 would next day have found an easy excuse for hav- 
 ing left unpaid. The wonder was that he did not 
 seem to recognize the force that helped to give to 
 his intelligence, which was competent enough, what 
 practical utility was possible for it. Of course 
 there are many failures in such relationships, and 
 despite her watchful interest Wendell's professional 
 life was far from reaching an ideal standard of effi- 
 cient duty. 
 
 " You are of great use to me always," he said ; 
 " and as to the money, I have many good bills, and 
 I can jog the memory of one or two patients. Now 
 there is Jones." 
 
 He made things so easy with his comfortable 
 out-look that Ann was satisfied for the time, or 
 appeared to be. 
 
 " You won't forget ? " she entreated. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Ezra, is your practice growing? " 
 
 "I I guess so. I am told I have been unus- 
 ually successful, for a new-comer. People do leave
 
 234 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 one, you know ; but that is what every man has to 
 expect. They say a doctor's whole practice changes 
 every ten years." 
 
 " That seems strange to me," remarked Ann. 
 " If ever I needed to have a doctor, I should n't 
 want to change him." 
 
 " Well, people do," returned Ezra. 
 
 In fact, he had been fortunate. At the time we 
 speak of, certain country neighborhoods were suf- 
 fering for want of physicians, a good many men 
 who were just on the borders of success in practice 
 having been tempted into army service ; so that 
 those who, like Wendell, stayed at home sometimes 
 profited by the opportunities thus left open. The 
 Mortons were pleased with his services, and Mrs. 
 Westerley, although of late she had become guarded 
 in mentioning him, had often enough spoken freely 
 of his skill ; so that he had picked up a fair number 
 of well-to-do patients, who felt that the new doctor 
 was to be taken more or less on trial. As time 
 went on he lost a larger proportion of such patients 
 than he should have done. He was in every way 
 an agreeable and amusing visitor, but when he had 
 to sustain the courage of the sick and satisfy watch- 
 /ful friends through grave illness he failed. For 
 some reason, he did not carry confidence to others ; 
 perhaps because he was unable to hide his mental 
 unstableness, which showed in too frequent changes 
 of opinion. Moreover, his love of ease made im- 
 possible for him the never-ending daily abandon- 
 ment of this moment of quiet, or that little bit of
 
 IN WAR TIME. 235 
 
 tranquil home life, which every wise physician 
 counts upon once for all as a part of the discom- 
 forts which he must accept if he means to win suc- 
 cess. Some men overestimate what they give, and 
 think little of what they get in return. "Wendell 
 liked to believe that his professional life was made 
 up of sacrifices ; so that when a patient left him, 
 and sent for another more decisive attendant, he 
 felt a certain foolish resentment, into which the no- 
 tion of ingratitude entered, and which made him 
 regard with bitterness his more lucky successor. 
 Let us add that Alice Westerley, whose interest in 
 him was fatally growing, was, as to all these mat- 
 U'ters, an unfortunate friend. She was quite too 
 widely sympathetic to be a good moral tonic, and 
 knew really too little of his less interesting quali- 
 ties to acquire the sad conviction that he was de- 
 signed by nature to illustrate, soon or late, the cer- 
 tainty of failure where, although the machine be 
 competent, its driving power is inadequate. 
 
 But a man must be very blind indeed not to 
 recognize sometimes that he is drifting from the 
 course he meant to take, and Wendell was, as I 
 have said, by no means defective in intellect. 
 There come to most of us, in fact, times of unpleas- 
 ant illumination, when we are forced to see things 
 as they would appear to an uninterested or abler 
 observer ; but some men are always so near their 
 moral mirror that their breath obscures the image 
 they ought to see. The talk with Ann made her 
 brother unhappy for a time, and brought upon him
 
 236 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 one of the dark moods which she so much dreaded ; 
 nor indeed was he otherwise without good cause for 
 unhappiness. From time to time he had borrowed 
 small sums from Edward Morton, whose generosity 
 made it so easy that somehow the weight of this 
 gathering debt seemed to Wendell to be of little 
 importance. But there was another matter which 
 was of graver moment. Wendell had, after some 
 doubt as to what was best, taken Wilmington's 
 advice, and invested in his own name, as trustee, 
 the ten thousand dollars deposited in his hands 
 by Henry Gray. The investment being in govern- 
 ment bonds at a low rate, their rise towards the 
 year 1865 made the doctor feel that there was a 
 comfortable margin of profit, which with the pas- 
 sage of time must enlarge. At first, he set this 
 aside, as belonging to Hester ; but by and by, as 
 his own difficulties increased, he began to think 
 that he was entitled, as Gray had, no doubt, meant 
 him to be, to some share in her good fortune. 
 There was reason in this, but Wendell did not take 
 the first positive practical step without moral dis- 
 comfort, nor until urged to it by unrelenting cir- 
 cumstances. His own and his sister's inheritance 
 amounted to but six thousand dollars, and was in- 
 vested in a well-secured mortgage which Mr. Wil- 
 mington had recommended, and in fact found for 
 him. The rise in Hester's securities fatally tempted 
 him to seek for some more brilliant return from his 
 own and Ann's little property, and after much hesi- 
 tation he bought stock in a Western road which
 
 IN WAR TIME. 237 
 
 had been rapidly rising in price. The January 
 dividend, however, had not been paid, and the 
 stock had fallen. Then, at last, when Ann asked 
 him for the usual semi-annual interest on their 
 mortgage, which habitually he resigned to her en- 
 tire for her household uses, he found himself in 
 trouble. If, says a monkish adage, you let a thin 
 devil slip through the key-hole, a fat devil will un- 
 lock the door. 
 
 I should do an interesting but weak nature a 
 wrong to presume that it cost him nothing to rea- 
 son himself into borrowing enough of Hester's cap- 
 ital to enable him to give to Ann the money she 
 had habitually received. The rebel cousin had 
 meant to give his relation a certain sum, but owing 
 to Wendell's wise investment it now much exceeded 
 that amount. The excess seemed almost as much 
 his as Hester's. It was characteristic of him that 
 he put in his little tin box of private papers an ac- 
 knowledgment of the amount thus transferred, but 
 soon he found it convenient to add to it a second 
 receipt ; and these papers were, in some fashion, a 
 comfort to the troubled man, who by habit dwelt 
 within an ever-widening horizon of hopeful possibil- 
 ities, as inexhaustible as the growing zone of suc- 
 cessive mornings. Like all who tread this evil 
 path, he honestly meant to replace what he took, 
 and nothing could have surpassed the force of his 
 conviction that he would do so; indeed, to have 
 been told that he would not would have been felt 
 by him as the deepest insult.
 
 238 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Meanwhile, he went about his work with a cer- 
 tain renewal of vigor, and found time to see Alice 
 Westerley often. She had begun to be present in 
 his day dreams as one of the brighter planets that 
 were slowly rising above that horizon of which we 
 have spoken. To do him full justice, he never 
 thought of her in relation to money. This would 
 have been unlike his gentle and poetic temperament. 
 He of course knew that she had 'means, but how 
 great he did not know, and he timidly approached 
 her in a growing tenderness of relation which his 
 sister did not suspect, and which he himself was 
 very slowly coming to apprehend might result in 
 something still more tender. 
 
 Early in March Miss Pearson's school broke up, 
 on account of fever in the neighborhood, and Hes- 
 ter was sent away in haste, while the doctor was 
 called on to settle a number of bills for her cloth- 
 ing and tuition. 
 
 Nevertheless, he was sincerely glad to see her, 
 for at each return home she was a novel and charm- 
 ing surprise to the little circle. 
 
 " A butterfly, indeed ! " exclaimed Edward Mor- 
 ton. " Could any one have imagined Hester would 
 develop into such a noble-looking woman ! " 
 
 Ann, who had followed with her eyes the retreat- 
 ing figure, with its straight carriage and walk of 
 liberal strength, said quietly : 
 
 " Indeed, the girl has grown." Ann had a sense 
 of odd uneasiness at the sight of this suddenly com- 
 pleted transformation. What should she do with
 
 72V WAR TIME. 239 
 
 her ? Then the girl reappeared, happy at the es- 
 cape from school. 
 
 " Won't some one walk with me to Mrs. Wester- 
 ley's ? " she asked. " Come, uncle, you have noth- 
 ing to do." 
 
 Wendell had something to do, but it was not in 
 him to say no. 
 
 " Come," he said. 
 
 " And don't forget Mrs. Grace," remarked Ann. 
 
 " No, of course not." 
 
 " And now, uncle," cried Hester, clinging to his 
 arm, " how is everybody ? And why does n't my 
 cousin write ? And how is Mr. Arthur ? And 
 you, last and best, how are you ? " 
 
 " If you go on, I shall want an index to your 
 inquiries," laughed Wendell. " Cousin Gray is 
 probably engaged in the laudable occupation of 
 blockade running," he added. 
 
 " And why not laudable ? " queried Hester, who 
 had found, during the last school term, another 
 Carolinian, stranded like herself among what the 
 better instructed young woman called with empha- 
 sis " those Yankees." " I am sure you will under- 
 stand why I must have my own feelings about the 
 South. But I think you always did understand." 
 
 " Yes, yes, dear, well enough," he said ; " but 
 don't talk more than you can help about the war. 
 It makes trouble, in these days." 
 
 " No," she replied, looking up at him, and lightly 
 pressing his arm, " that would be disloyal to you. 
 I am a featherhead, Miss Pearson says, and Mrs.
 
 240 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Westerley lectures me ; but there are some things 
 I can never forget, never ! What a stupid child 
 I must have been, when Miss Ann took me home ! 
 and it seems such a home now ! But as I grow 
 older, I think about my father's death, and Miss 
 Ann's kindness and yours come back to me, and I 
 now know what an unusual and noble thing you 
 did. Ah, I know it well now ! " 
 
 " I think I have heard a little of this before from 
 a certain young woman," said Wendell, who liked 
 but yet was always embarrassed by praise. 
 
 " Yes, I know ; but a certain young woman is 
 certain she can never say all that she feels about 
 it." 
 
 " Let it be, then," he said, tenderly, "as of a 
 service from "' and he paused a moment ; he was 
 about to say " an uncle," but, looking aside at her 
 face turned towards him in its stir of feeling, why 
 did the nominal relationship he assumed seem all 
 of a sudden absurd ? Then he amended his phrase, 
 " Like a brother's service ; to be remembered, not 
 paid for with thanks." 
 
 " I wish I could say things as prettily as you 
 do ! Mr. Arthur says it is because you have a 
 poet's temperament." 
 
 " Arty is a stupid boy," returned the doctor, not 
 displeased. 
 
 " But then," cried the girl, laughing merrily, and 
 pretending for a moment to survey him critically, 
 " you are too old for a brother. I should like one 
 about Mr. Edward's age. I should n't like old 
 brothers."
 
 /# WAR TIME. 241 
 
 Wendell felt that at thirty-two it was rather 
 hard to be doomed to senility by those pretty lips. 
 
 " "Well," he said, after they had chatted some- 
 what longer about the Mortons, and had stopped to 
 look at and to unroll the varnished covers of some 
 horse-chestnut buds, "here is Mrs. Westerley's, 
 and I shall appeal from slandering youth to the 
 charity of a woman as to the awful question of my 
 antiquity." 
 
 " I don't think Mrs. Westerley will agree with 
 me ; at least, she never does," returned Hester, de- 
 murely. She had heard a little about the two 
 friends, perhaps, and had not left unused her own 
 uncomfortably keen powers of observation. Decid- 
 edly, Miss Gray was growing in many ways ! 
 
 " I will join you," he remarked, " after I have 
 seen Mrs. Grace." 
 
 " Oh, is that dreadful lady alive yet ? " exclaimed 
 Hester. 
 
 " Did you suppose that I had killed her by this 
 time ? " he returned. 
 
 "If I were her doctor," said Hester, merrily, 
 " it would be, ' Short her shrift, and soon her 
 lift!'" 
 
 "What a depth of wickedness," he said, "and 
 so young, too ! " and, laughing, he left her at Mrs. 
 Westerley's gate. 
 
 Mrs. Grace's drawing-room, as she liked to call 
 her parlor, was filled with a sad inheritance of se- 
 pulchral grimness in the way of mahogany furniture
 
 242 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 of the fashion of some fifty years back. Her daugh- 
 ters and herself had striven in vain to induce Mr. 
 Grace to replace it with something of more modern 
 form ; but black haircloth and brass nails do not 
 wear out, and, as he said, " What is the use, Mar- 
 tha, of new furniture, when this is perfectly good ? " 
 Efforts had been made to hide it with tidies of 
 divers workmanship, but the mournful sheen of the 
 haircloth, polished by much sitting, remained, and 
 no art could conceal the sombre scrolls of sofa and 
 chair back, which Alice Westerley said looked as if 
 they had been put up in primeval curl-papers be- 
 fore the flood. The paint was a little dingy, and 
 on the wall-paper, which was recent and much 
 gilded, were hung two prints : one of the death-bed 
 of Daniel Webster ; the other of Henry Clay, in 
 evening costume, addressing a morbidly attentive 
 Senate. " Daniel Webster was a friend of our 
 family," explained Mrs. Grace to a too critical 
 young person, " and then my husband is such a 
 tariff man, you know." 
 
 Wendell looked around with a sensitive shudder, 
 and, gasping in the blast of dry heat from a fur- 
 nace, began to wonder why the opening from which 
 it came should have been called a register. 
 
 " I give it up," he muttered to himself, as Mrs. 
 Grace entered the room. 
 
 Sarah was not well, and it must be malaria. Did 
 not Dr. Wendell think it was malaria? He did 
 not, but he knew by this time that it was unwise 
 to dispute Mrs. Grace's opinions, and also useless.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 243 
 
 He therefore advised her impassive and sallow 
 daughter to eat less and walk more, and prescribed 
 some one of the mild remedies which neither help 
 nor hurt ; and then Sarah was dismissed, and Mrs. 
 Grace, now that she had him alone, began to take 
 a little real comfort out of his visit in the shape of 
 a flow of disconnected talk, made up of inquiries as 
 to other people's maladies and her own complaints. 
 Wendell had a reasonable habit of reticence about 
 patients, but it was not very easy to escape this 
 practiced inquisitor without vexing her. 
 
 " So Hester has come home." 
 
 " How on earth did she know that?" marveled 
 the doctor. 
 
 " And I do hope you '11 keep her back. I did 
 think myself she was rather forward, when I 
 last saw her. You know, of course, I speak as a 
 friend." 
 
 " I believe," returned Wendell, " that my sister 
 is quite equal to the care of the girl, and to us she 
 seems much improved ; and then her good friend, 
 Mrs. Westerley " 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Westerley?" said his hostess, with 
 rising inflection, interrupting him. " Now do you 
 quite think she is well, just the kind of per- 
 son" 
 
 " She is the best woman I know," returned Wen- 
 dell, annoyed. " You know, I am sure, that she is 
 a friend to whom we owe a great deal of kindness." 
 
 " Oh, I thought you were her doctor ! " 
 
 This was rather confusing to Wendell, and he 
 had to conceal a smile.
 
 244 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " But," he said, " she is never ill.* 
 
 " Indeed ? I thought I noticed that you went 
 there a good deal." 
 
 " Yes, I see her now and then. She is a very 
 good friend of ours, as I said, and my sister and 
 she have so much in common," a statement which 
 would have amazed equally either of the women in 
 question. 
 
 " Sisters are pretty convenient, you know," broke 
 in Mrs. Grace, feeling that she had said a brilliant 
 thing and wise. " I do think I ought to tell you, 
 as a friend," she added, "that when she was 
 younger Mrs. Westerley was thought to be a bit of 
 a flirt, you know, doctor ; and then she made such 
 a sad match." 
 
 " I have never seen anything in her to make me 
 think for a moment she deserves such a character," 
 he replied, endeavoring to answer coolly. 
 
 " Well, you can't change my opinions," said Mrs. 
 Grace ; " and may be it 's a question of time. You 
 will find out some day. What I know I know, and 
 if my own family had n't suffered I might think I 
 was not called on to speak ; but I guess my poor 
 cousin Fox could tell a different story." 
 
 " What ? Colonel Fox ? Impossible ! " 
 
 " Well, you may think so." 
 
 " I am sure you will not want to take away from 
 me the liberty to think no ill of Mrs. Westerley," 
 he said. " But I am late," he added, glancing at 
 his watch as he rose. " I must go." 
 
 " And of course," returned Mrs. Grace, " what
 
 72V WAR TIME. 245 
 
 I have mentioned was just because I have a friendly 
 interest in my doctor. You know I need hardly 
 ask you not to repeat it. Sarah says people do so 
 misunderstand things." 
 
 Wendell moved toward the door little dreaming 
 that Sarah, who had thus come in at the close, 
 should have had a place at the beginning as the 
 text of this little sermon. It had occurred to Mrs. 
 Grace that if things came to the worst a rising doc- 
 tor might be better for Sarah than no one ; and 
 Colonel Fox did not appear to look upon Sarah 
 with even a second-cousinly regard, as she had once 
 feebly hoped he might do. 
 
 When Wendell found himself in Mrs. Wester- 
 ley's drawing-room, he felt as if he had come from 
 under a pall into sunlight. Alice and Hester were 
 chatting merrily, and the elder woman was advis- 
 ing Hester to take French and drawing lessons. 
 " You know, dear, you have quite money enough." 
 
 " Mr. Edward has promised to read German with 
 me. I think I shall like that. Do you know, Miss 
 Pearson does not mean to open her school until 
 fall ! " 
 
 " Well, I hope by that time Mr. Gray will be 
 heard from," said Mrs. Westerley. " He certainly 
 will have something to say as to your future." 
 
 " And," asked Wendell, " have you ever thought 
 it possible he might want to take Hester away ? I 
 we would n't like that, Hester." 
 
 " I should n't, not at all ! But," springing 
 to her feet, " I promised Miss Ann to be at home
 
 246 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 before this time! May I come and dine to-mor- 
 row ? " 
 
 "Any day, every day, my dear." 
 
 " Will you walk home with me ? " said the girl, 
 turning to Wendell. 
 
 "No; I have some patients to see." He had 
 reflected that he would like to linger in Mrs. Wes- 
 terley's pleasant room, and efface a little the re- 
 membrance of his last visit. Then Hester went 
 away. 
 
 "You have been to see Mrs. Grace?" queried 
 Alice. " Was she as charming as usual ? " 
 
 The doctor colored slightly. He had but small 
 control over his face, a grave defect in a physician. 
 
 " Oh, I see ! " she continued. " I am a favored 
 subject." 
 
 " She would not dare to speak ill of you to me," 
 returned Wendell, who hardly knew what to say. 
 
 " Dare ! " repeated Alice. " She would dare to 
 say anything to anybody of anybody. I sometimes 
 marvel at the courage of such people." 
 
 " I think a woman would have to be both very 
 bad to abuse you and very brave to abuse you to 
 your friends," he said, " you who are so good 
 and just to every one." 
 
 " Do you really think that ? What an imagina- 
 tive man! " 
 
 "I may not be as good as as all your friends 
 ought to be, but I don't think I am too stupid to 
 understand Mrs. Grace." 
 
 " I don't know," she returned gayly. " ' I have
 
 /AT WAR TIME. 247 
 
 my opinions,' as Mrs. Grace would say. But how 
 goes your work? I mean the new subject you 
 mentioned." 
 
 " Oh, very well," he answered. " But I find my 
 hospital getting to be somewhat in the way, and 
 I do suppose I should be better able to attend to 
 what is of permanent value if I gave it up." 
 
 "Then why not give it up?" 
 
 "Partly," he answered, with some hesitation, 
 " because the money is convenient." 
 
 " Oh, but that can't matter with you now," said 
 Alice, who had never felt what it meant to want 
 money ; " and I should think you would do far bet- 
 ter, even in the way of money, if your time were 
 more your own." 
 
 "I hardly know," he replied. "I sometimes 
 wish that I could give myself up to research alto- 
 gether." 
 
 " It does seem hard that you cannot, with your 
 capacities." 
 
 " How good you are to me, and how well you ap- 
 pear to be able to enter into a man's life and am- 
 bitions ! So few people have that power. I can 
 never thank you enough. But good-by. I must 
 go." 
 
 " You are going ? And why do you go ? " 
 
 " Do you want me to stay ? " 
 
 "Of course I want you to stay. I am always 
 glad to see my friends," she added, rather promptly, 
 perhaps a little scared at what she had said. " But 
 don't let me keep you if you are busy."
 
 248 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 "I ought to go. Indeed, I must go," looking 
 at the clock. "Thank you once more," and he 
 glanced at her face with eyes which were of a 
 pleasant hazel, and now strangely wistful. " You 
 have the divine gift of healing." Then he suddenly 
 and passionately kissed the hand he had taken. 
 She drew it away. The natural recoil was enough 
 to alarm a man so sensitive. "I have offended 
 you ! " he said. 
 
 "No no not deeply, but go away. Don't 
 stay, pray don't." 
 
 " Oh," he exclaimed, " there are no women like 
 you, none ; " and so left her standing thoughtful 
 by the wood-fire. She turned thence to the window, 
 and keeping back a little glanced after him, with 
 tender softness in her gaze. 
 
 " I don't know whether I want to love him or 
 not," she murmured, " but I am afraid I do. Oh, I 
 am afraid I do ! And what is it makes me afraid ? 
 I wish I knew." 
 
 Alice Westerley had begun her early social life 
 in New York by marrying a man who would not 
 have excited an emotion in her three years later. 
 He gave her all that money could buy ; and money 
 was as abundant with him as a successful gambler 
 on Wall Street may make it. He died, and Al- 
 ice learned that another woman and her children 
 had made for a coarse-minded man his real home 
 through the three years of her own married life, 
 and long before. At the end of a year, when the 
 executors turned over to Alice her large share of
 
 IN WAR TIME. 249 
 
 his estate, she did at once what she had meant to 
 do from the moment she knew of her husband's 
 domestic treachery. She sent for the woman who 
 had been his mistress, and who had been left un- 
 cared for, and said, " I have asked you to come 
 here because I look upon you as Mr. Westerley's 
 wife, in God's eyes, and I have made arrangements 
 to turn over to you his property." This she did, 
 to the woman's amazement and to the disgust of 
 her own friends. Then she took the little fortune 
 her mother had left her, and went abroad. Her 
 father was alive, and, being a singular person, said 
 she was right ; that it was a nasty business, and she 
 was well out of it. A year later he died, and the 
 widow was again a rich woman. An accidental 
 visit to Helen Morton resulted in her learning to 
 like the quiet town, where soon after she bought a 
 house. This was the woman who now sat down on 
 a stool, and, looking into the fire, began to try to 
 analyze her own feelings and true desires. Why 
 was she afraid ? He was very pleasant to her, with 
 his large eyes, his gentle ways, his wide range of 
 knowledge, and his tender dependence upon her. 
 Was it that after all she did not entirely like this 
 resting upon her opinions? Then she stirred up 
 the failing fire, and took counsel with it. It was a 
 delicate flattery now, but would it be always so 
 grateful ? " Perhaps I expect too much," she said 
 to herself; and after a good deal of perplexed 
 thinking, it came to her how delightful it would be 
 to release this man from all trammels, and have
 
 250 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 him free to realize his intellectual dreams. She 
 well knew that she had been in a measure unwise 
 to allow him to anticipate her decision ; for now it 
 was plain enough that she had at least given him 
 the permission to believe that he might love her 
 with some distinct hope of success. Then she 
 laughed aloud, in a little scornfully defiant way, 
 thinking how her English friends would cry, " A 
 medical man ! " when they learned that she had 
 married a country doctor. "A medical man, my 
 dear," she repeated aloud. " But I am not married 
 yet," she murmured, as she rose, " not yet ! I 
 would like to have a little time to myself ! " and 
 with this she promptly went to her desk, and wrote 
 to Hester that she had some errands in New York, 
 and should be back within a few days. Of course 
 Wendell would know of this ; but she had secured 
 for herself a respite, without which she felt that 
 she was unwilling to face him anew. At one min- 
 ute all seemed to her to be clear ; at another her 
 mind was obscured by a doubt. The process of 
 mental filtration was unsuccessful, and more and 
 more she came to recognize the fact that she was 
 too agitated to consider with useful calmness a mat* 
 ^ / ter into which, she began to discover, she had gone 
 too far for honorable retreat.
 
 XVI. 
 
 ON the day after this interview, Dr. "Wendell 
 had two unpleasant surprises. He learned that 
 Mrs. Westerley had gone to New York, and was 
 foolish enough to recall uneasily for an instant what 
 Mrs. Grace had said of her. However, he went 
 into the hospital, and came out early. Ann found 
 him seated by himself, as if in thought. She knew 
 him well. 
 
 " What troubles you, Ezra," she asked, " and 
 why are you home so soon ? " 
 
 " I was tired," he returned ; " and, Ann, I am to 
 be dropped out of service next week. They are 
 cutting down the number of contract surgeons." 
 
 Ann had been anticipating this, though now it 
 had come it gave her a sharp pang ; but she said 
 promptly, with sweet and helpful cheerfulness, 
 " Well, we ought not to be altogether sorry. It 
 will give you more time to see patients, and you 
 know you thought about resigning." 
 
 " Yes, but one thinks a good deal before taking 
 so decided a step. It does seem to me, Ann, that 
 we are very unfortunate." 
 
 " Do you think we have a right to say that, 
 Ezra ? " 
 
 " I don't know about the right," he returned, im-
 
 252 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 patiently. " I have the blues, Ann. I feel like 
 Said in his tent. Best let me alone ! " 
 
 " Ah, but you can't be let alone," said Hester, 
 from the parlor. " Here is Mr. Morton ; and have 
 you heard the news ? Mrs. Morton is coming home 
 in April." 
 
 " Indeed ! " exclaimed Wendell, now forced to 
 rouse himself. 
 
 " But are you sick ? " said Hester, in quick alarm, 
 as she entered with Edward. "Is he sick, Miss 
 Ann?" 
 
 " No ; he has only had some bad news, and may 
 have to leave his hospital." 
 
 To Hester this did not represent any grave ca- 
 lamity, but Edward looked serious. He had now 
 begun to suspect that the Wendells were, for some 
 reason, straitened as to money. 
 
 " It had to come, of course," said Wendell. 
 " Soon or late it had to come. Don't let us talk 
 about it any more. It has its good side, like many 
 evils." But after they had gone, he still sat mood- 
 ily thinking. He had already used, little by little, 
 fifteen hundred dollars of Hester's money, bor- 
 rowed it, he said to himself, and the stock he 
 had bought was still falling, and now he was about 
 to lose his contract surgeoncy ! He was with rea- 
 son afraid at times of the constancy with which 
 ideas haunted him during his moods of despon- 
 dency. It seemed to him as if there were some 
 mechanism of torture in his mind, which presented 
 troubles over and over in new and horrible rela-
 
 IN WAR TIME. 253 
 
 tions ; for he was imaginative, as we have seen, and 
 imagination for such men as he is to-day a stern 
 prophetess of evil, and to-morrow a flattering mis- 
 tress. Do what he would, and the thought im- 
 measurably distressed this sensitive being, he 
 kept thinking about Mrs. Westerley's money, and 
 how surely it would rescue him, and how often it 
 had come before him that now he need have no 
 fear as to repayment of what he had borrowed from 
 Hester's means. There was a fiend's cruelty in 
 the conception that a noble, honest creature like 
 Alice was ignorantly making it easy for him to do 
 a shameful thing, and not suffer for it. If she 
 should ever come to know of his guilt, what then ? 
 Already a deepening affection was creating for him 
 a clearer sense of his own moral degradation. He 
 got up, went out into the street, and walked rap- 
 idly, as was his wont when depressed, and in an 
 hour came back, more quiet in mind. 
 
 " Come in, brother," said Ann, as she looked out 
 of the parlor window. " Here is a message to see 
 Mr. Wilmington." 
 
 " Indeed ! " exclaimed Ezra. Mr. Wilmington 
 had never before claimed his care, and so little a 
 thing as this made him feel unreasonably comforta- 
 ble. " I will go at once." 
 
 " Oh, do take your tea first. There is no hurry 
 about it, they told me." 
 
 " And here is a letter from Arty," said Edward. 
 " No, it is not. It must be from Fox. Yes, it is 
 from Fox."
 
 254 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 "Open it," said Hester, shortly, "How slow 
 you are ! " 
 
 " Why, what 's the matter, Hester ? " returned 
 Edward, slowly dividing the envelope, and play- 
 fully retreating. 
 
 " I must know," she said. " What does he say ? 
 Who is it from ? Why don't you look ? " 
 
 " Ah," replied Edward, " let me sit down. Wait 
 a moment, I must read it first," and he checked 
 her with his raised hand, while he read a few lines. 
 " It is n't very bad, Hester. I was dreadfully 
 afraid," he cried, looking up. 
 
 " Tell me at once," she demanded imperatively. 
 
 " Hester ! " exclaimed Ann. " Hester ! " 
 
 " Arty is wounded," said Edward ; " not badly, 
 not badly at all; a flesh wound. Colonel Fox 
 writes because Arty can't use his arm. Oh, the 
 dear old fellow has put in a slip for Hester ! Why, 
 where is she ? " 
 
 " She went out of the room," returned Ann ; " I 
 heard her go upstairs. Something has got to be 
 done about these tempers of hers. Something has 
 got to be done ! " 
 
 Ann had never pursued, in her educational du- 
 ties, the letting-alone system, and, having been 
 shocked and surprised at Hester's abruptness, 
 thought well to knock at her chamber door shortly 
 after herself hearing to the end Colonel Fox's let- 
 ter. If all this little display of short temper were 
 about the war, Hester must be told to repress it, 
 for every one's sake ; and if it were simply impa<
 
 7^ WAR TIME. 255 
 
 tience, of which Hester had her fair share, it was 
 Ann's business, as her present guardian, to reprove 
 it. 
 
 At first there was no answer to Ann's knock. 
 
 " Hester ! " she called. " Hester, open the 
 door ! " 
 
 Still there was no reply. 
 
 Then Ann shook the door-knob, a little angry, 
 and a very little uneasy. 
 
 "Open the door at once. Do you hear me? 
 Hester, dear Hester ! " 
 
 The door opened suddenly, and Hester appeared 
 on the threshold, drawn up to her full height, an 
 angry light in her eyes. 
 
 " What is the meaning of all this ? " demanded 
 Ann, severely. " Are you sick ? And why did 
 you go away so rudely while Mr. Morton was read- 
 ing?" 
 
 " I I wanted to," said Hester. " I went " 
 
 " Goodness ! ' Went ! ' I know you went ! 
 And you call that an answer ; and pray, child, do 
 you think you are behaving yourself properly now? 
 What does it all mean ? I must say I never saw 
 you act in this way before." 
 
 " I don't know," murmured Hester. " Cannot I 
 just be let alone, Miss Ann ? I want to be alone." 
 
 " And why on earth do you want to be alone ? Is 
 it because you were alarmed about Arthur? That 
 was natural enough ; but really, child, I don't see 
 why there should be all this fuss. Colonel Fox 
 says there is no chance of his losing his arm. Upon
 
 256 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 my word, Hester, a little real trouble would do you 
 no harm ! " 
 
 " No harm," repeated Hester, faintly, " no 
 harm ! " and began retreating backward into her 
 bedroom, with her palms raised and her arms ex- 
 tended towards Ann, and a face flushing rapidly. 
 
 " Good gracious, what a fool I am ! " cried Ann, 
 seizing her in time to guide her fall on to a lounge. 
 " Ezra ! " she cried. " Ezra, come here quick ! 
 Hester is sick ! " 
 
 Wendell was at her side in a moment. 
 / " It is only a nervous attack," he said ; " don't 
 be worried. Run and get some ice." 
 
 While Ann was gone he hastily loosened the 
 girl's dress, and waited, watching her. 
 
 Meanwhile, poor Edward, who had climbed the 
 stairs wearily, and in such haste as was unusual to 
 him, reached the door of Hester's room. 
 
 " What is it, doctor ? " he asked, anxiously, and 
 with a tremor in his voice. " Is she ill ? " 
 
 "No," answered Wendell, turning; "but give 
 me that pitcher. I can't leave her, or she will fall 
 off the lounge." 
 
 Edward came in, and did as he was desired. 
 Then he saw for a moment the white sweep of the 
 girl's neck and shoulders, flushed with moving islets 
 of blood that came and went, the signals of a ner- 
 vous system shaken by a storm beyond its power 
 to bear. He drew back with a sense of awe at the 
 sight, ashamed, as it were, in trouble for her that 
 she should be thus and so undisturbed.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 257 
 
 "Here is Miss Ann," lie said, hastily. "For 
 Heaven's sake, don't let Hester know I was here. 
 I will be in my room, if you need me." 
 
 Then he limped out, a little dizzy, as happened 
 to him at times if moved by strong emotion, and 
 supporting himself by a hand on the walls he 
 reached his room, and fell into the nearest chair. 
 The patient, tender-hearted man had received a 
 new hurt. Of late he had been mending, and a 
 hope had come to him ; but now he was like one 
 who, after shipwreck in a strange land, awaking, 
 sees a color in the sky, and knows not yet if it be 
 dusk or dawn. 
 
 The gay-hearted girl who had grown up by his 
 side, who with him was never impatient, who had 
 shared his books and his new pursuits, and had 
 filled his crippled life with a new and wholesome 
 sweetness, was to be his no more even in thought ; 
 for now it was all plain to the gaunt young fellow, 
 made over-sensitive by pain, until he had attained 
 a more than womanly appreciation of the feelings 
 and griefs of others. 
 
 " What a blind idiot I have been ! It is Arty 
 she loves ! " he cried, as he sat with his hands on 
 his knees, looking with wide eyes far away, like 
 Browning's lion, into the drear desert of his doubly 
 sterile life. 
 
 Then tears came to his help, and he laughed as 
 with a quick hand he cleared them from his eye- 
 lids, laughed to think that he had become phys- 
 ically so feeble as to recognize without a man's
 
 258 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 shame the strange easement of tears. But of a sud- 
 den the future leaped upon him, and tore him with 
 the claws of brutal realities that were to be ; and 
 he saw before him lonely years of pain and slow, 
 enfeebling sickness, and had a prophetic sense of 
 the fading of his appetite for the new things with 
 which of late he had learned to sweeten the meagre 
 cup of life. He also saw Hester, tall and blushing, 
 a bride, and then a matronly woman. It did seem 
 to him that no possible pang had been spared him. 
 For his country in her bloody struggle he had felt 
 as those feel who say little. He had been con- 
 demned to possess in patience a soul meant for 
 lordship where death was nearest, and now had 
 come this rival anguish. 
 
 It is not wonderful that where their religion does 
 not give men a woman -god in whose lap to cry 
 they manage in some way to create such a resource, 
 or at least some approach to the sweet pitifulness 
 of a god-like maternity. It was his mother the 
 young man thought of now ; wishing, in his fresh 
 agony, that he could bury his head in her lap and 
 be her little Ned again, and weep out unquestioned 
 this great sorrow. 
 
 At last he rose unsteadily, and tried to walk 
 about, and seeing his own face in the glass was 
 shocked at its expression. 
 
 " Oh, this won't do ! " he cried impatiently, and 
 set himself to quiet with resolute self-rule the storm 
 within him. 
 
 By and by Wendell knocked at his door.
 
 Jw 
 
 /AT WAR TIME. 259 
 
 " Come in," he answered. " Is is she all 
 right?" 
 
 " Why, of course," returned Wendell. "It was 
 merely a nervous turn. But what is the matter 
 with you, Edward ? " 
 
 "Nothing much. I am not very strong, and I 
 suppose Hester's little upset was too much for me. 
 That and the letter, you know. I think I shall lie 
 down." 
 
 "Well, I would," assented Wendell. "Hester 
 will be well enough to-morrow. I suppose that she, 
 
 ', was taken aback by the colonel's letter; but 
 girls are so easily made nervous, and I fancy Ann 
 was rather sharp with her. It is really curious how 
 little patience or sympathy the best of women, if 
 they are strong, have with a woman's nervousness ! 
 I do certainly hope the child is not going to be a 
 nervous young woman. I can't imagine a worse 
 fate for any one ! " 
 
 " I hope not," replied Edward ; and the doctor 
 left him. 
 
 Mrs. Westerley returned three days later, and 
 found quite enough to employ all her energies. 
 Wendell, who knew from her servants when she 
 was expected to return, was foolish enough to meet 
 her at the station. He was in that state of uneasi- 
 ness and doubt which the passage of time is sure to 
 bring to a man who feels that enough has been said 
 to give him hope, but not enough to secure what 
 has become more and more a yearning need in life.
 
 260 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Also, there had arisen in his singularly constituted 
 nature another trouble. He began to feel a strange 
 bitterness at the thought that if he married Alice, 
 or perhaps in any case, he would lose out of his life 
 the proportion of affectionate comradeship which 
 Hester had brought into it. Her beauty of form, 
 her alert intelligence, even her little mutinies, were 
 very pleasant to him. Like Edward, but less dis- 
 tinctly, he had comprehended, or at least suspected, 
 the meaning of Hester's reception of the news 
 of Arthur's wound ; and as he was right-minded 
 enough about women, and by reason of his refine- 
 ment of character a man of more than common 
 purity of word and deed where they were con- 
 cerned, he was troubled at his own state of mind. 
 Was he jealous ? he asked himself. Had he been 
 a more profound and experienced student of pecul- 
 iar human natures, he might have known that his 
 feeling in regard to Hester was merely one of those 
 ybrief despotisms which an idea sometimes creates in 
 persons of his mental constitution. The mystery of 
 it was, however, far beyond his power to explain, 
 and the fact itself simply shocked him. 
 
 His wish to meet Mrs. Westerley at the station 
 was brought about, in part at least, by his almost 
 painful disgust at his own state of mind, and his 
 hasty resolve to end his doubt, and reach a point 
 where indecision would be impossible. 
 
 The station was crowded, and the air full of 
 excitement. Men, women, soldiers, and officials 
 thronged the platforms, and the newsboys were
 
 IN WAR TIME. 261 
 
 crying, " Great news from the front ! " Sherman 
 was driving Johnston before him, and Grant was 
 enveloping Lee's fated army. 
 
 Amidst the crowd Wendell found Mrs. Wester- 
 ley. She colored as he came up to her. She was 
 both pleased and vexed. 
 
 " Why did you come ? " she asked, speaking low. 
 " My maid is with me." 
 
 Wendell was annoyed and embarrassed. He saw 
 his mistake. 
 
 "Make some excuse," she added, gently, "and 
 leave me ; and don't be displeased," she continued, 
 seeing his troubled face. 
 
 "I beg pardon," said Wendell, cut down to a 
 lower level by this calming reception. "I was 
 looking for some one," he stammered. " Sorry to 
 leave you. Good-by." 
 
 "Good-by," she said, as Wendell turned and 
 went away, showing but too clearly the discomfiture 
 he so profoundly felt. 
 
 "These men! These men!" murmured the 
 widow, smiling. Then she went home and wrote 
 Hester a note, asking her to dine with her next 
 day ; and would Dr. Wendell kindly see Mrs. Wes- 
 terley about some Sanitary Commission business at 
 one o'clock. 
 
 At eleven the next morning Alice was called 
 downstairs to see Miss Clemson, who had come on 
 business. They had been having, said Miss Clem- 
 son, no end of trouble, the last few days, about 
 Mrs. Grace, and several ladies thought that Mrs. 
 Westerley should become president.
 
 262 /.v WAR TIME. 
 
 " But," replied the widow, " Mrs. Morton will be 
 at home by the 20th, and indeed I would much 
 rather, on the whole, not come into contact with 
 Mrs. Grace. She has been amusing her leisure 
 with my affairs, I learn, and if I had to cross her 
 I should probably say more than I want to say. I 
 will gladly resign, if you think best." 
 
 " But that would be most undesirable. The 
 woman is in a small minority, but she seems to be 
 so made that really the competence of numbers ap- 
 pears not to affect her. I do not doubt that there 
 are times when she believes one and one make 
 nine!" 
 
 " I have my opinions ! " rejoined Alice, laughing. 
 
 " I would go to the office to-day, Mrs. Wester- 
 ley. She told us on Friday that she had taken 
 home your account book, I mean the treasurer's 
 accounts, which you have so kindly kept since Miss 
 Graham's illness." 
 
 " What! " cried Alice ; " she took it home ! " 
 
 "Yes. I hesitated to tell you about it, but I 
 thought you should be told." 
 
 " And what else ? " inquired Alice. 
 
 "She informed us on Saturday that she and 
 Sarah imagine it, my dear! she and Sarah 
 could not make it balance ! " 
 
 " And is this all ? " asked Mrs. Westerley. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Then wait a moment," said the widow, ringing 
 the bell sharply. "My ponies, John, and make 
 haste. I will be down in a minute, Miss Clemson."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 263 
 
 On their way to the office, Mrs. Westerley called 
 at Mrs. Grace's, somewhat to the alarm of her 
 friend, who began to be conscious that Mrs. Wes- 
 terley's quietness was simply the enforced calm 
 which hides for a time some latent anger. 
 
 Mrs. Grace's was never a well-managed house, 
 and it was not until after several vigorous pulls at 
 the bell that the door was opened by an untidy 
 maid, who ushered the ladies into the mournful 
 splendor of Mrs. Grace's parlor. 
 
 Alice looked at Miss Clemson, with amusement 
 in her eyes. Evidently there had been a hasty es- 
 cape effected from the back room, since two empty 
 rocking-chairs were still in active motion. 
 
 " What a touch that would be on the stage ! " 
 said Alice. 
 
 " And what an awful bit of circumstantial evi- 
 dence ! " returned Miss Clemson. 
 
 " We have given Sarah an occasion for a little 
 exercise." 
 
 By this time the maid, much rearranged as to 
 her dress, returned with a statement that Mrs. 
 Grace was at the Sanitary ; and thither, accord- 
 ingly, they drove, Miss Clemson remarking on the 
 way, 
 
 " You will not let that woman disturb you, Mrs. 
 
 " Oh, no ! I mean to disturb her. Is n't it dread- 
 ful to think that we women have no weapon but 
 our tongues ? " 
 
 " The men are no better off," returned Miss
 
 264 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Clemson. " What more can they do, nowadays, 
 than we ? The duel is dead." 
 
 " If I were a man, I could wish it were not. 
 Theoretically I am in favor of it." 
 
 " Oh, no, dear," protested Miss Clemson ; " it is 
 so illogical." 
 
 " And so am I," said Alice. " I hate logical peo- 
 ple ; and that must be just the time when one 
 wants the duel, when one feels illogical." 
 
 " Well, here we are," said Miss Clemson, as they 
 drew up in front of the local office of the famous 
 Commission. The great news of the fight at Five 
 Forks had just come in. Mrs. Westerley found 
 Mrs. Grace discussing the matter with one or two 
 other ladies. 
 
 " We have lost twenty thousand men," said she, 
 " and soon we shall have no soldiers to fight with. 
 There won't be one left." 
 
 " Nonsense," returned Miss Susan, to whom dif 
 f erence of years was of small moment. " Lee will 
 surrender in a month. Pa says so." 
 
 " I think," answered Mrs. Grace, " that we have 
 just begun. No one knows where it will end." 
 
 Mrs. Westerley touched her on the shoulder. 
 " Come into the back room," she said, in a clear, 
 sharp voice, while every one looked up, startled. 
 
 " What do you want ? " inquired Mrs. Grace. 
 
 " Just a little talk," rejoined Alice. " You, too, 
 Miss Clemson." 
 
 As they entered the empty room Alice closed the 
 door.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 265 
 
 Sudden calls on her emotions made this woman 
 cool and effective, if her affections were not con- 
 cerned. Without raising her voice, but with an 
 accurate distinctness of speech, she said, 
 
 "Mrs. Grace, you took home my accounts last 
 week without authority, and were so good as to say, 
 you will correct me, Miss Clemson, if I am 
 wrong, you were so obliging as to say that the 
 accounts do not balance. May I ask, was that as- 
 sertion meant to give the idea that I had been care- 
 less, or what ? " 
 
 Mrs. Grace, like large masses, was not easily 
 moved, and having been in similar troubles before 
 knew that with most people it was possible to es- 
 cape at no larger cost than words, which with her 
 were abundant, and of no fixed or unchangeable 
 value. 
 
 " Oh, but I never supposed there could be such 
 a fuss. I just thought I had a right ; and Sarah, 
 she 's so apt at arithmetic." 
 
 "You do not answer me," said Alice. "What 
 did you mean ? " 
 
 " I did n't mean anything, and I guess I 'd bet- 
 ter go." 
 
 " This will not do," exclaimed Alice, placing her- 
 self between Mrs. Grace and the door. " You have 
 done a mean and dishonorable act. You have slan- 
 dered me grossly, and now you have not the cour- 
 /age to stand by your actions! If we were men, 
 madam, I should use something more than words ; 
 and you would have deserved it^ too."
 
 266 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Mrs. Grace was angry, but she was also alarmed. 
 Alice looked as if her sex might not always enable 
 her to resist a desire so earnestly stated. 
 
 " I won't stay here to be insulted ! " cried Mrs. 
 Grace. " I I '11 call the police ! " 
 
 " Stuff ! We are not men, luckily for you, but 
 still you must hear what I have to say. You must 
 either apologize to me before the women in the 
 outer room, or retire from the Commission." 
 
 "And if I won't do it?" 
 
 "Do what, madam?" 
 
 " Why, just either ! " 
 
 " Then I must resign, and we shall see which of 
 us the board will choose to lose." 
 
 Mrs. Grace knew pretty well what would happen 
 in this case, it having been made clear to her the 
 week before by several outspoken women. 
 
 " And what do you want me to say ? " 
 
 " Anything," replied Alice. " Tell them you are 
 sorry. I don't want you to clear my character for 
 me ; but one word more. I had not meant to say 
 to you anything of another matter touching which 
 you have been pleased to gossip of late, but let me 
 add only this : that it must stop, and that if I ever 
 again hear that your tongue has been busy with my 
 affairs I shall be able to find a man somewhere 
 who will talk to your husband." 
 
 " Oh, no doubt ! " Mrs. Grace rejoined, recover- 
 ing herself a little. 
 
 Alice looked at her with a faint smile of scorn, 
 and saying, "I shall be as good as my word
 
 IN WAR TIME. 267 
 
 Thank you, Miss Clemson," swept out of the room 
 and through the office to her ponies, leaving her 
 foe to say what she pleased, and Miss Clemson to 
 see that justice was done. 
 
 Mrs. Grace, inwardly thankful that this high 
 judgment had been pronounced apart, managed, on 
 Miss Clemson' s appeal, to make some kind of dis- 
 jointed apologetic statement, and then went home, 
 as dully angry as her nature allowed her to be. 
 She really had not the power to feel that she had 
 been guilty of a crime, and with her sense of hav- 
 ing been put down and lectured unjustly came a 
 sluggish desire for something which in the mind of 
 a quicker being would have been called revenge. 
 Mrs. Grace felt that it would be nice if she could 
 stick pins into the widow, and physically hurt her 
 a good deal. 
 
 The next day she had occasion to wail, by letter 
 to Colonel Fox, over her temporary failure to re- 
 ceive certain moneys ; as by this time she had lost a 
 little of her dread of Mrs. Westerley, it was not in 
 her nature to omit all mention of her among the 
 bits of news with which she enlivened her letters of 
 business. Mrs. Grace was cautious, however, and 
 only expressed her pity that Alice Westerley was 
 going to marry a poor, unsuccessful doctor like 
 Wendell; certainly, her friends must regret it. 
 Not that she, Mrs. Grace, knew it herself, but she 
 believed there was n't much doubt of it. And did 
 Colonel Fox know that Morton wouldn't come 
 home, there being an Italian lady in the case, and
 
 268 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 that Helen Morton was expected to come alone, 
 poor thing, and she was so unhappy ? 
 
 This letter did not reach Fox for several days. 
 In command of a brigade of Ord's division, he was 
 following Lee's retreat, and was urging on his men 
 with an energy that left them little repose. Arthur, 
 with his arm in a sling, and now a captain, would 
 listen to no prudent counsels, and Fox had it not 
 in him to keep the young soldier out of the last 
 scenes of the tragedy which was closing in blood 
 and despair on the Appomattox. 
 
 Such of us as lived through those days, and had 
 dear ones in that awful joust of arms, may yet re- 
 call the never-ending anxiety with which we opened 
 the morning paper, and the thrill with which, in 
 the dead of night, the cry of the newsboy on the 
 street made us sit up and listen. To the little cir- 
 cle of Arthur's friends the closing days of the Con- 
 federacy were full of dread. At any moment a 
 , telegram from New York might warn them of Mrs. 
 Morton's arrival, and out of this savage death 
 wrestle what news might meet her ! 
 
 Hester was quiet and preoccupied, and helped 
 Ann at her work with a fervid restlessness. Ed- 
 ward had gone to New York to meet his mother. 
 He had written to his brother as soon as he had 
 felt able to use a pen, and had said, "I think, 
 Arty, that if by any chance you are hurt again, or 
 perhaps in case of any trouble, you or Fox had 
 better write under cover to Wendell, or to Mrs. 
 Westerley. The account of your hurt upset Hester
 
 IN WAR TIME. 269 
 
 so much that I feel it would not be wise to have to 
 tell her again any bad news ; and then there is 
 mother, too. But, please God, there will not be 
 any more bad news ! Hester is all right now." 
 
 Alice Westerley had seen Dr. Wendell more 
 than once since her return ; but she had been busy 
 in opening the Morton house, and had managed 
 with more or less success to keep her lover from 
 exacting an absolute promise. She felt that she 
 was exercising over him a control which was for 
 her desirable, but which in her secret heart she 
 wished he submitted to with less patience. 
 
 On the morning of April 9th came a letter from 
 Arthur to Mrs. Westerley. He wrote : " I do not 
 trouble you often with letters, but Ned tells me 
 that the colonel's letter upset Hester, which is very 
 annoying, because I had it read over to me to be 
 sure it would n't shock any one. I suffered little 
 until the afternoon of the 5th, when we were 
 pushed on by Ord, along with a squadron of cav- 
 alry, to burn the bridges at Farmville on the Ap- 
 pomattox. It was, as we know now, a race for the 
 river. General Read gathered a lot of dismounted 
 cavalry about the bridge, and some of ours, my 
 company and another, got on it, but had no time to 
 burn it or to make any covers, because in a few 
 minutes Lee's advance was on us, and I knew what 
 a hopeless and gallant thing poor Read had done. 
 The rebels streamed down on the bridge and just 
 swept us away like flies. Read was killed, and for 
 a moment it was a wild, free fight, for we did not
 
 270 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 let them off easy ; but they were too many for us, 
 and the few not killed were pushed over into the 
 river. Tell Ned it was n't any worse than a rush 
 at football at St. Paul's. I was down and up twice, 
 and as my right arm was no good I had a bad time. 
 Luckily I was not hit, but I was knocked over into 
 the mud of the river just as they swept by at the 
 end of the row, and saw fellows shooting at me as 
 if I were a mud turtle. I can tell you I wriggled 
 out into the stream pretty quick, and in a moment 
 got under the bridge, on a stump near the water ; 
 and you won't believe it, but I laughed when the 
 rebs tore over the bridge they had won. I got 
 caught as I was trying to find my way somewhere ; 
 but our people were hard after them, and the poor 
 fellows were so near dead of fatigue that I got off, 
 and on the morning of the 7th fell in with Hum- 
 phrey's advance. By George, I was glad ! I told 
 the general all about how the rebs were used up, 
 but somehow they gave him a sound dressing, I 
 hear, just after I went to the rear. I was all sore 
 bones and Appomattox mud, and well played out ; 
 so are the Johnnies, but I shall be all right in a 
 week, and they won't, poor fellows ! I am told by 
 the surgeon that I must go home, and as the row is 
 about over I am glad enough. So hurrah for clean 
 sheets and a good dinner ! My regards to Hester. 
 I have n't the pluck to write another letter. Fox 
 lost a bit of his left whisker, and of course got in 
 the way of a minie, and has a trifling flesh wound. 
 He ought to hang his uniform up in Twelfth Street
 
 IN WAR TIME. 271 
 
 Meeting House, as the Eomans did their shields in 
 the temple of Mars." 
 
 Hester was on her guard this time, and heard 
 the young man's characteristic letter with equanim- 
 ity. Then she said to Alice that she would like to 
 read it to the doctor and Miss Ann, and Mrs. 
 Westerley saw that letter no more. 
 
 Mrs. Morton drove out to her home on the mem- 
 orable night of the 9th of April under skies ablaze 
 with rockets, amidst the craze of joy, the clangor 
 of bells, and the shriek of engines, with which a 
 happy city sought to find some adequate expression 
 of its sense of relief. 
 
 " What a welcome ! " she cried, as with a throb- 
 bing heart she ran up the steps of her own house, 
 j.- which was full of cheerful light. Then she saw on 
 the piazza a strong, bronzed young officer, with one 
 arm in a sling. She paused a moment. 
 
 " Why, mother, it is Arty ! " cried Edward. 
 
 " Arty ! " she exclaimed, with amazement. "Ah, 
 this is too much ! " and she had him in her arms in 
 a moment. 
 
 " Take care, mother," he said, " my arm " 
 And then she held him off, and looked at him with 
 eager satisfaction, while the doorway filled up with 
 Alice Westerley, the doctor, Hester, and Mr. Wil- 
 mington ; and there were warm greetings, which 
 soothed Mrs. Morton's troubled heart. Then very 
 soon, as it grew late, some of her guests went away ; 
 and the young men having slipped off to the li- 
 brary for a smoke and war talk, Mrs. Morton was 
 left alone with Alice.
 
 272 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 "I am glad you have come back," said Mrs. 
 Westerley, stirring the hickory fire, which a cool 
 April night made desirable, "I am glad you 
 have come back ; and it is none too soon. After 
 all, where is one as comfortable as at home? For 
 every reason you must be glad to be here. I shall 
 feel greatly relieved." 
 
 " Why, my dear, are you still annoyed about 
 Arty ? " said Mrs. Morton. " I supposed his long 
 absence and a year's growth might have made 
 them forget. It seemed to me a mere doll love 
 affair." 
 
 " Absence has made it worse, I fancy," replied 
 Alice. "I don't know how far it has gone with 
 him, but his being in the war and in constant peril 
 has, I suppose, helped to keep him in Hester's 
 mind. She is seventeen, and of course has the ro- 
 mance of her age; and if you look at Arty, I 
 suppose you did look at Arty," she added, smiling, 
 " there is excuse enough in his face for any girl's 
 folly." 
 
 " Oh, of course," replied Mrs. Morton. " But I 
 shall settle all that," she went on, remembering 
 with what ease her decisions had been wont to be 
 carried out. " I shall speak to Arty at once." 
 
 " I think I would n't," returned Alice. She felt 
 just now a peculiar tenderness for people in his 
 position. " You left him simply Arty, Helen. He 
 is now Captain Arthur Morton, 3d Regiment Penn- 
 sylvania Volunteers, promoted for gallantry at Wei- 
 don Cross Roads."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 273 
 
 " But he is still my son, and I never knew him 
 to disobey me." 
 
 " Then, my dear, you may prepare yourself for 
 an enlargement of your maternal experience ! You 
 are thinking only of him. Look at the other argu- 
 ment against you ! " 
 
 "What other argument?" 
 
 " Miss Hester Gray," said Alice. 
 
 " Yes, she seems immensely changed. Much im- 
 proved, I may say. Quite a nice girl." 
 
 " Why, Helen Morton, the girl is a beauty I " 
 
 " Well, yes, perhaps so. But Arty is too young. 
 In fact they are mere children. Even if for other 
 reasons it were suitable, their age would make me 
 object ; and simply, I will not have it, Alice. She 
 has n't a cent in the world ; and though that might 
 not matter if it were poor Ned, who is out of the 
 question, Arty is absolutely dependent on Colonel 
 Morton." 
 
 "But after all, their age is a little difficulty 
 which with the friendly help of time they will over- 
 come. Also it is quite possible that I may have 
 been over-anxious. Arthur may not care for her. 
 You may be making a nice little trouble for your- 
 self. Wait, my dear, wait a little." 
 
 " But I never did like to wait. Why, then, Al- 
 ice, did you say he was in love with her ? " 
 
 " But I never did say so." 
 
 " Well, if it 's only the girl, I can afford to bide 
 my time-" 
 
 " But remember, Helen, I did not say how far
 
 274 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 this had gone, or who was to blame, if any one is ; 
 I only said that there was danger." 
 
 " Now, really, my dear, don't you think that you 
 are a little exasperating ? " said Mrs. Morton. 
 
 " No ; I don't want to be. I shall feel easy now 
 that you are here; that is all. And how is the 
 colonel ? " 
 
 Even Mrs. Morton's well-trained features showed 
 some trace of disturbance as she replied, 
 
 " I have no doubt, Alice, that you have guessed 
 more than I have cared to write you. John will 
 stay in Europe until he is tired of it. He says that 
 he has nothing to do here, and that it bores him. 
 When men are bored women must continue to bear 
 the consequences. Men are bored and women must 
 weep. As long as he does not want to come home 
 he will stay abroad. Unluckily, there is his wound, 
 ^ which gives him a constant excuse. If it were well 
 and he fit for service, nothing on earth would keep 
 him from going back into the army ; but he is not 
 fit, and the claim of his boys, or my wish to return, 
 seems not to have the slightest value." 
 
 " You were very brave to make the voyage with- 
 out him," said Alice. 
 
 * Was I ? That was a trifle. It had to come. 
 When I told him that I must go home and see my 
 boys, he said that was quite natural, and in fact 
 was as sweet and helpful about all my arrange- 
 ments as he could be. Really, he wondered I had 
 not thought of it before." 
 
 " Where did you leave him, Helen? "
 
 IN WAR TIME. 275 
 
 "At Dijon. He came that far with me. Do 
 you know, Alice, he said such an odd thing to me 
 when we parted. I had said, ' You will come home 
 soon, John ? ' To this he answered, ' I dare say, 
 soon enough. You won't want me when you have 
 those boys ; ' and then he said he had been very ir- 
 ritable, and at times outrageous, which, dear Alice, 
 we must admit to have been the case. Of course, I 
 answered, ' Oh, no,' and that I did n't mind it, and 
 all that sort of thing we women always have on 
 hand to say ; and then what did he add but this : 
 that it was largely my fault, and that if I had ex- 
 acted my own rights more sharply we would both 
 of us have been happier." 
 
 " How brutal, Helen ! " 
 
 " No, John Morton is never that. It was true, 
 quite true. I see it now. My life has been a 
 mistake." 
 
 " Well, I think I understand it ; but just as you 
 were leaving, to say such a thing ! And what did 
 you reply ? " 
 
 " I told him that it was a very nice theory, and 
 true, but that he never would have stood it, and 
 that is also true. I have no idea that he will ever 
 come home. He will discuss it, as he does every- 
 thing unpleasant, but when the time comes he will 
 find some excuse to remain." 
 
 "And you will go back to him, Helen?" re- 
 turned her friend. 
 
 " I don't know. I suppose so. I do not see how 
 I ever can unless I take Ned, and for him to be
 
 276 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 with his father is one long misery. But there are 
 worse things in life, I suppose." 
 
 " I am very, very sorry. But it is late, and I 
 must go to bed, and I have n't asked you a tithe of 
 the questions I had ready. Promise me that you 
 will do nothing hasty about Arty." 
 
 " I will do nothing in haste. Here is your can- 
 dlestick ; but I have brought you a charming one 
 from Holland, so odd, with an angel for a holder 
 and a devil for an extinguisher. I am told that 
 it is very old Dutch silver. John found it in 
 Ley den." 
 
 " What a quaintly unpleasant notion ! " mur- 
 mured Alice to herself, as she went up the staircase 
 to bed. " I wonder if John Morton knew that she 
 meant to give it to me. It would be rather like 
 him."
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE Morton household soon settled down to its 
 new and on the whole more happy life. Edward's 
 change from unrestf ul discomfort to the peace of 
 soul which a growing love of books and of the 
 pursuits of the naturalist brought him struck his 
 mother with astonishment, and filled her with a 
 hopeful pleasure which what Arthur called " our 
 Ned's melancholy sweetness " could not destroy. 
 In fact, Edward was suffering from the effects of a 
 great moral shock on a system incompetent to bear 
 the blow ; and with it, unfortunately, had come to 
 the tender-hearted young man some self-reproach. 
 " Why," he asked himself, " should I, a wretched 
 cripple, have dared even to dream of fastening 
 this strong, wholesome life to my morbid wretched- 
 ness ? " How wrong it would be even if it were 
 possible ! And now it was not possible ; but the 
 worst of the bitter of it had been tasted, and use 
 had dulled the palate of despair. For a nature 
 like Edward Morton's there was nothing left ex- 
 cept to smooth the way for Arty. The love which 
 had been cherished because it had seemed only a 
 tender friendship was now clearly defined to him, 
 its real nature made but too plain ; for moral 
 analysis, like chemical analysis, sometimes destroys 
 what it explains.
 
 278 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 The widow, delighted to be relieved in many 
 ways by Mrs. Morton's return, left her very will- 
 ingly to wind up the affairs of the Sanitary Com- 
 mission office, and to keep Mrs. Grace and her 
 kind in order. She felt also that it was no longer 
 so clearly her business to watch certain young 
 folks, and as sometimes happened to this woman 
 she lapsed for a season into a fit of absolute idle- 
 ness, checkered with many visits from Wendell ; 
 for in fact Mrs. Westerley was fast making up her 
 mind, and, tired of defense, was becoming indiffer- 
 ent as to what her friends or neighbors might say. 
 
 The happy leisure of home life suited Captain 
 Arthur Morton well. He was young, had won his 
 spurs honestly, and found it pleasant to dine out 
 and be made much of. 
 
 With Ann Wendell the young captain was a 
 welcome guest, and this also suited him. There 
 was about him a certain grimness of purpose which 
 Ann liked, but that this was accompanied by a 
 never-ending good-humored amusement at and with 
 everything in life seemed to her at times unnatural, 
 and, if she had been able to think it out clearly, 
 contradictory. It was of course not in the nature 
 of things that any woman should long have doubted 
 as to what brought him to the Wendells' so often. 
 But Ann was slow in seeing the by-play of life, and 
 Arthur had a hundred excuses. 
 
 On the morning of April 16th, Arthur walked 
 slowly down the main street of Germantown. He 
 was thinking deeply, as were millions of men and
 
 IN WAR TIME. 279 
 
 women North and South, of the dark news of Lin- 
 coln's assassination. As he went along, people were 
 already closing their window shutters and hanging 
 black draperies on the shops, and on all faces were 
 awe and a terror as of something yet to come. 
 
 But now Hester came walking up Church Lane, 
 whither she had been as the messenger of some of 
 Ann's modest charities, and presently saw him; 
 and as she was becoming consciously shy in these 
 days, she would have run away had she been able. 
 All she could do, however, was to delay her steps, 
 and think with amusement of how she would walk 
 down the main street behind him. But suddenly 
 Captain Morton's eyes were on her, and throwing 
 away his cigar he joined her. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Hester, what awful news I " 
 " How can men be so wicked ! " she returned. 
 " And now Dr. Wendell says that of all the things 
 that could happen this is the worst for us, for 
 the South." 
 
 " Yes, nothing could be worse for the South." 
 " And will it make more war, more blood ? " 
 " I think not, but who can say ! Let us not talk 
 about it now. I have seen so many men killed 
 I have seen so many killed while I was talking to 
 them, killed while they were laughing, struck out 
 of life like numerals rubbed off a slate that I do 
 suppose I don't feel this as I ought to." 
 "Why, Mr. Morton!" 
 
 "Yes, that seems strange to you,, doesn't it? 
 Still I believe it will be a long while before I
 
 280 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 get to thinking life, just mere life, so very valua- 
 ble." 
 
 They walked on a little in silence. Then he 
 added, musingly, " I think I have a soldier's feel- 
 ing about it all, and I should n't wonder if he had 
 that, also." 
 
 " You said a little while ago, Don't let us talk of 
 it; and I would far rather not. But but," she 
 added, " you won't ever say it was the South ? " 
 
 Arthur colored. He had declared as much at 
 breakfast. " Whatever I may feel or think, I shall 
 never say what will hurt you. Much I care for the 
 rest of the South ! " 
 
 Hester felt that the reply was rather more ample 
 than she had asked. 
 
 " Thank you," she returned, and there was a mo- 
 ment of silence, when presently they came to the 
 doctor's door. Miss Ann, being now assured of 
 the truth of the news, stood at a window, the shut- 
 ters of which she was closing as for one dead in the 
 house, and listened gravely to the sound of cannon 
 from one of the camps at the foot of the hill, where 
 men used the voice of war to tell the story of despair. 
 
 " Come in," said Ann, opening the door. " Have 
 you heard the last news ? Johnston has surrendered ; 
 and to think of this death between these two joys ! 
 Was it really at a theatre, Arthur? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I wish it had n't been there," she rejoined sadly. 
 "And is it true that the man tripped on the flag?" 
 
 "Yes; that is true, I believe. But let Miss
 
 IN WAR TIME. 281 
 
 Hester in, Miss Ann ; " and when she had passed, 
 he said, " I think it has troubled her as a Southern 
 woman. She feels it dreadfully." 
 
 " And well she may ! " exclaimed Ann, bitterly 
 for her, and went away upstairs, saying to Hester, 
 who had gone into the parlor, " Come up as soon as 
 Mr. Morton goes. I have got some work for you." 
 
 " Shall I come now, Miss Ann ? " 
 
 " No, I am in no hurry." 
 
 " Of course you cannot go," said Captain Mor- 
 ton. " Am I not a bronzed veteran, and shall I not 
 be entertained on my return from the wars ? " 
 
 " Duty first," cried Hester, laughing. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Gray, I hope you don't forget the 
 rest of that wise saying ; and as Miss Ann has let 
 you off the duty, I may presume there is nothing 
 else but to realize the other end of the proverb." 
 
 " I think you are very saucy," she returned ; " in 
 fact you are quite too fond of making inferences." 
 
 " Is that what keeps you away from our house, 
 Hester?" 
 
 " No, it is not that but " 
 
 " But what ? Ned is n't well, and he must miss 
 you awfully. He does nothing but growl about 
 your staying away. Why do you ? " 
 
 " I think he will get on very well without me. 
 Come in here; I want to show you the doctor's 
 new rhizopod. He is so proud of it." 
 
 " Now," said the bronzed veteran calmly, " that 
 was a very feeble bit of diplomacy ! Why do you 
 not come to the Laurels as you used to ? "
 
 282 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " Don't you think," she replied, " that when one 
 shows a disinclination to answer it were just as well 
 to infer that you are answered ? " 
 
 He looked up at her, surprised at the ingenuity 
 and truth of the defense, and charmed with the 
 womanly dignity which of a sudden seemed to en- 
 velop her. 
 
 How old she gets ! he thought ; but then he saw 
 she was flushing a little. There had come to her a 
 sudden apprehension that what she had said might 
 be misunderstood, so she added quickly, a little 
 angry at being forced to explain herself, 
 
 " Miss Ann thinks that your mother will ask me 
 when she wants me, and as you have many guests 
 I have kept away. Is that very mysterious ? " 
 
 He had an instinctive sense that this was not 
 quite all ; but he said, " That is Miss Ann all over ; 
 but I have vexed you." Hester shook her head. 
 A fib by gesture is probably to be regarded as the 
 mildest form of untruth. 
 
 " But I did vex you ; and one word more. I 
 was not quite correct in what I said about Lincoln 
 and the South. I had said something about the 
 South at breakfast that would have made you fu- 
 rious. I want to say now that I shall never so 
 speak again. I mean Hester Gray I mean 
 because of you ! " 
 
 " I think you should obey your own conscience," 
 she said, proudly standing by the mantel, and fac- 
 ing him. " No friendship ought to control that." 
 
 " I have two consciences now," he replied, look- 
 ing up and smiling kindly.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 283 
 
 "Two?" she returned, a little eased at the turn 
 of the talk, " two ? How queer ! " 
 
 " And one is Hester Gray." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " she cried, laughing and embar- 
 rassed. " I cannot accept the charge. I have quite 
 enough trouble as it is. Besides, you would be so 
 over-supplied with conscientiousness, you couldn't 
 turn around without crying; and as for me, I 
 should have to share your conscience, also, and if I 
 am to have two I shall try Miss Ann's. I think it 
 is more of a bronzed veteran than yours." 
 
 " But after all, I never meant to ask you to 
 share my conscience. I only wanted to keep the 
 respect of yours." 
 
 " As if you ever had it ! " she cried, merrily, 
 well pleased to be off dangerous ground again. 
 
 " But I shall hope to have it, and to keep it, 
 too." 
 
 Then Miss Ann called, as was her way, from the 
 staircase : " Are you soon coming, Hester ? " Miss 
 Ann was, as we know, calmly unconventional. 
 
 " I must go," said Hester. 
 
 " Just a moment, Hester," begged Arthur. Then, 
 as she stood, he took her hand. 
 
 " Don't keep me," she exclaimed. " Really, I 
 must go." 
 
 " Not yet," and looking her straight in the eyes 
 he went on : "I shall want your respect, Hester, 
 because I want your love and and shall I 
 have it, Hester ? " and a great eagerness of purpose 
 came over his strong face. He felt her tremble and
 
 284 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 saw her eyelids fall to hide the tender terror of the 
 moment, but yet she did not move. Many times 
 in these few days she had gotten away from this, 
 and now it was come. " Speak, Hester," he im- 
 plored, hoarsely. There was some gentle instinct 
 in him that made him feel a deep and unselfish pity 
 for the orphan girl. " But if, dear," he added, " it 
 cannot be, don't be afraid to tell me. I shall try 
 hard to bear it." 
 
 And then Ann was heard again : " If Arthur 
 Morton stays any longer, Hester, he must help pare 
 the apples for the pies." 
 
 Hester looked up, smiling, through fast-filling 
 eyes. Then the captain also smiled. Then they 
 both laughed, while, glad of this diversion, she 
 made a swift and shameful flight for the door ; but 
 this flank movement was unsuccessful, and he 
 caught her by the wrist with his hurt hand. 
 
 " Don't ! " she cried. " I must go." 
 
 " But you hurt my arm." 
 
 " I don't care I don't care at all ! Mr. Mor- 
 ton, let me go ! " 
 
 " May I peel those apples with you, Hester ? " 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so." 
 
 " And may I always peel apples with you, Hea 
 ter?" 
 
 " Yes," she murmured, faintly. 
 
 " Are you never coming ? " asked Ann, quite 
 close to the door. 
 
 " Yes, yes," returned Hester, very red, and open- 
 ing it abruptly.
 
 TN WAR TIME. 285 
 
 " Oh, Miss Ann, and I am going to help her ! " 
 said Arthur. 
 
 Then and there it was all only too suddenly 
 made clear to Ann, and leaving them she went up- 
 stairs into her room, and sitting down groaned 
 aloud, "What am I to do? How blind I have 
 been ! And does she dream that her father was 
 V killed by his father?" 
 
 It had been a horrible story to Ann as first she 
 heard it, and her last interview with Captain Gray, 
 when he was dying, had so set it in her mind that 
 it would have been utterly impossible for her to 
 disbelieve it. In fact, it was, as she felt, a dying 
 man's statement. The law accepted such state- 
 ments, and how could she do other than accept 
 them also? All through these years it had influ- 
 enced her feelings, at least, and had made her look 
 with constant discomfort on the kindness shown to 
 Hester by the Mortons. When she knew that 
 Colonel Morton was responsible for a part of this 
 kindness, it seemed to her as if he were thus seek- 
 ing to atone to the child he had made fatherless. 
 Her brother had told her that the whole matter was 
 absurd, and that, if true, it was only what must 
 happen in war. He had better not have said " if 
 true." That still left in Ann's mind a dark and 
 unpleasant doubt ; and now at last the time had 
 come when, as a woman fearing God, she must 
 face the matter with some practical decision. Ann 
 tried hard to think it all out to a satisfactory con- 
 clusion. She felt that this time, at least, she could 
 not quite trust Ezra. How could he decide any-
 
 286 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 thing fairly where the Mortons were concerned, 
 and who else was there, and who could tell these 
 glad young people, and why was this misery of 
 duty put upon her? "Had I been less blind, I 
 might have seen it in time," she cried. Then she 
 began to realize how far Hester had grown into her 
 affections, and to think with an increasing pain of 
 Arthur, for whom her heart was strangely open. 
 There was some New England vigor in him, she 
 said, liking to explain her admiration on impersonal 
 grounds. If Dr. Lagrange had been within reach, 
 she would have wished to talk with him about it 
 all. His supreme exactness gave Ann a strong 
 belief in his conscientiousness, and probably she 
 would have been set at rest by his dictum. But 
 " Dr. Lagrange was far away in the Mississippi 
 ; Valley, and was just then lamenting over divers re- 
 turns of hospital stores conveniently " expended in 
 service," or captured, and was miserably unhappy 
 over wars which were carried on in this unmethod- 
 ical fashion. 
 
 Nevertheless Ann took some comfort after hav- 
 ing written to him. She felt that she must do 
 something, and now, having done something, could 
 rest tranquil for a few days; and if then nothing 
 came to her in the way of hopeful counsel, there at 
 least was Alice Westerley. 
 
 But just yet she would say nothing to Ezra. If 
 Arthur mentioned his love affair to him, as was 
 likely enough, she might have to speak as to what 
 was on her mind. She did not like the conceal- 
 ment, but events had been too strong for her.
 
 XVIII. 
 
 THE spring buds filled up, despite the wars and 
 griefs of men, and where the latest snow was melt- 
 ing the trailing arbutus made the Wissahickon hills 
 delicious with its perfect fragrance. It was such 
 a day as always brought Mr. Wilmington to the 
 country for a little sunning. He was yet lingering 
 in, his town house, loath to leave his club and the 
 evening whist-table; but the evening whist had 
 been rather broken up of late, owing to great 
 events outside, and as a consequence the little, pre- 
 cise, ruddy face was looking unpleased, its owner's 
 enjoyment of life being temperately made up of a 
 regular succession of many small things. He got 
 out of his train at Fisher's Lane, and sauntered 
 along until he came to the old graveyard at the 
 corner of the main street. Here he paused in the 
 lane, and resting his arms on the crumbling stone 
 wall looked over at the neglected stones, slanted 
 this way and that, and tried to decipher some of 
 the nearer inscriptions. He was wondering what 
 some other old fellow would say, a century hence, 
 when he came to read the words in which his de- 
 mise would be recorded in Christ Church burial- 
 ground. " At least," reflected the comfortable old 
 sinner, " I sha'n't know." And then he chuckled
 
 288 72V WAR TIME. 
 
 at the idea that it would not be well to have Mrs. 
 Westerley write that inscription. 
 
 " Good-morning, Mr. Wilmington," said Wen- 
 dell, approaching him. " What mean these medi- 
 tations among the tombs ? " 
 
 " I was thinking," said the old gentleman, " how 
 much more amusing graveyards would be if com- 
 ments were added to the inscriptions by others than 
 one's heirs." 
 
 " Good heavens ! " said the doctor, shuddering. 
 " I should decree myself a nameless, dateless grave, 
 like the Quakers." The idea struck him as un- 
 pleasant. If he died that day, what might not be 
 said of him ? " Are you going up Main Street ? " 
 
 " I am wandering," answered Wilmington. " I 
 shall probably wind up at Mrs. Westerley's." 
 
 Wendell was glad of company. He had learned 
 ktely the worst news of his new investment, and 
 he had bought some gold, thinking thus to help 
 himself, and then, to the amazement of all, when 
 Lee surrendered gold fell. That day had come a 
 letter from Henry Gray, dated in London a month 
 back, in which he desired Dr. Wendell to hold 
 ready for his call nine thousand dollars, as he saw 
 a way of making for his cousin Hester a better in- 
 vestment of it than could possibly be made in the 
 North. Like most Confederates abroad, he was ut- 
 terly unable to see how fast the power of the South- 
 ern States was crumbling, and still wrote with a 
 confidence in their integrity which to Wendell 
 seemed little less than ludicrous. " Would the
 
 IN WAR TIME. 289 
 
 doctor and his sister be so good as to keep the re- 
 maining thousand as a slight proof of Mr. Gray's 
 gratitude, which he hoped to show later in some 
 still more substantial way ? " 
 
 Wendell did not like this letter, for many and 
 obvious reasons ; he walked on, talking, and at 
 times thinking of it anew. 
 
 " Disagreeable business, all this ! " said Wil- 
 mington, vaguely, "death of Lincoln, and all 
 that. There is a passage in the Spectator which 
 applies to it, something about rebels ; but it 
 might be in Milton." 
 
 " I don't recall it," replied Wendell. 
 
 " Nor I. My memory is n't at all what it was. 
 Bless me, how sharp the air is ! " 
 
 "Yes, it is rather biting for the season. And 
 how is the gout, Mr. Wilmington ? " 
 
 " Well enough, if I don't drink madeira. But 
 you see, doctor, if you don't drink madeira, why, 
 life really is n't worth much in the latter part of 
 the day, you know." 
 
 " I would n't take a great deal, or habitually," 
 said Wendell. 
 
 " No, I dare say you would n't. But upon my 
 word, is n't that old Grace's barn ? He has taken 
 off his weather-cock ; and how on earth does he 
 suppose I can dress myself without a weather-cock 
 in sight ? It 's no use on one's own house." 
 
 The doctor, much amused, condoled with his 
 friend, and suggested mutual weather-cocks, which 
 seemed a satisfactory solution, and Mr. Wilming-
 
 290 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 ton went on for some time in silence, apparently 
 comforted. 
 
 This gave Wendell a little time for reflection, 
 which resulted in this wise : 
 
 " I have had a letter from Hester's cousin, and 
 perhaps you may be willing to advise me in regard 
 to it, as you did about the first letter." 
 
 "I shall have great pleasure," returned Wil- 
 mington. He liked to be asked for advice, and in 
 matters of business, or purely worldly affairs, there 
 were few more clear-headed counselors. He put on 
 his glasses, and pausing tranquilly in the street read 
 the letter. Then he read it again. 
 
 "Queer hand he writes. What's that word? 
 Oh, it 's 'investment,' is it?" 
 
 "Indeed," said WendeU, "I agree with you 
 fully about the writing. I wonder people are not 
 ashamed to write so badly. It is n't considered an 
 accomplishment to stammer so as to be incompre- 
 hensible. But how does the letter strike you, sir ? " 
 
 The old gentleman raised his eyelids, which were 
 in general very nearly shut, and this unclosure of 
 two large gray eyes had the effect of the sudden 
 lighting up of a disused house. 
 
 "I am afraid he has an idea of putting the 
 money in Confederate bonds. But of course that 
 is his business, and not ours. It is his own money." 
 
 Wendell was not greatly pleased with the infer- 
 ence to be drawn from the advice, and said, " In a 
 measure it is his own ; but if he throws it away, 
 and the rest of his property, too, where will Hester
 
 IN WAR TIME. 291 
 
 be ? Does n't it strike you that she should be con- 
 sidered a little ? " 
 
 " You have no right to think that he is n't con- 
 sidering her, and of course my guess is just only a 
 distrustful old fellow's guess. Perhaps he has 
 some really good investment ; and after all, when 
 you come to act, you cannot afford to assume any 
 rights." 
 
 " And you would advise me " continued Wen- 
 dell, with hesitation. 
 
 "Oh, you can't need advice! When he draws 
 you will send him his money." 
 
 " But it will be rather hard on Hester." 
 
 " That may be, or it may not. Perhaps he won't 
 draw at all, and I rather think that he will hesitate 
 now about Confederate paper. It must be a stupid 
 rat that does n't know that ship is sinking." 
 
 " I did n't think of it in that light. Things have 
 certainly changed a good deal since he wrote. But 
 don't you think if I found that he had drawn soon 
 after writing me, it would be a kindness to be in no 
 haste to act ? A little time might " 
 
 " I said nothing like that, Dr. Wendell," broke 
 in the old gentleman, with unpleasant accuracy 
 of articulation, and opening his eyes again very 
 wide. A dim shade of suspicion had entered his 
 mind. 
 
 " I was rather making an inference than repeat- 
 ing anything you said," replied Wendell, quickly. 
 " I need hardly say that he will instantly find his 
 draft honored. As a mere matter of business I
 
 292 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 should have no choice, but one can't help speculat- 
 ing as to the desirable." 
 
 " Speculation with or about other folks' money 
 is well, is undesirable ; and, by the way, Hester 
 must have a nice little sum over and above her ten 
 thousand, or his ten thousand. Those bonds have 
 gone up like a kite." 
 
 Wendell shuddered. " Yes," he assented, " you 
 gave me good advice as to that. Poor Hester ! " 
 
 " Why poor ? " growled the old man. " Is any 
 one poor who has eyes like hers ? Only age is 
 poor ; and it gets poorer, sir, it gets poorer, till 
 it ends in the poorhouse of the grave. But I think 
 that young person will be taken care of. I suspect 
 my friend Arty is going to have a say in her fu- 
 ture." 
 
 "Indeed?" said Wendell, annoyed. "I have 
 had that idea myself ; but do you suppose Mrs. 
 Morton would ever dream of allowing Arthur " 
 
 " ' Dream,' ' allow ! ' " exclaimed Wilmington. 
 " You don't know the men of that breed. He will 
 marry the girl if he wants to, doctor, make your 
 mind easy on that subject," and the old gentleman 
 chuckled gently. " But I must leave you. I am 
 going into this shop. Good-morning." 
 
 Wendell said good-by, and walked away. He 
 felt unhappy and displeased with himself, and had 
 an odd sense of an injustice done him in the taking 
 of Hester out of his life ; it would be so much sun- 
 shine gone. And then over and over he thought, 
 till thought was a wearying pain, of what he could
 
 IN WAR TIME. 293 
 
 do. There were now at least three thousand dol- 
 lars to replace ; and even if he sold his sister's 
 stock and his own, at a sacrifice which would be 
 ruinous, how should he tell Ann ? how account 
 for the portion of Hester's bonds he had sold ? 
 Death would be easier than to face Ann's pure 
 face, and say, " I have stolen. I am a thief." 
 Amidst the gathering horror of all this anticipated 
 torment, he went feebly through several visits, and 
 then wandered about, until at last he came to Mrs. 
 Westerley's gate. He felt none of the fear of her 
 insight which experience had taught him in regard 
 to Ann's, who had instinctively studied him through 
 the long years of their changing fortunes ; but the 
 thought was ever present to him that he loved Alice 
 Westerley purely and for herself, and must marry 
 her to be clear of his pecuniary load. He wanted 
 to marry her, and yet not to have to think he had 
 or might have a bad background of urgent motives. 
 He wished to have all this lovely sweetness of long- 
 ing free from taint and pure as childhood. Only 
 a sensitive man and a poet in temperament could 
 have kept himself on such a rack. He took off his 
 hat as he stood at her door, struck his forehead 
 with his palm, moved his fingers like one in pain, 
 and at last rang, and presently went in. 
 
 He wanted to be alone with Alice, but to his an- 
 noyance he found Arthur, and saw at once from 
 their faces that some talk of unusual interest had 
 taken place. Alice rose, and greeted him warmly. 
 
 " Ah, you are the very man we wanted. I have
 
 294 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 just been saying to Arty that he must tell you and 
 Miss Ann that Hester has promised to marry him. 
 And what a wicked thing, Dr. Wendell," she added, 
 archly, " to promise to marry a man ; and she is so 
 young, too, to be so wicked ! " 
 
 Wendell was pleased at her little bit of gay allu- 
 siveness, which he felt flattered to know was meant 
 for him alone to understand. 
 
 " It is so, Dr. Wendell," said the sun-browned 
 captain ; " and I feel as if now I might be going to 
 be some kind of a relation of yours, and that is n't 
 an unpleasant part of it, either." 
 
 Mrs. Westerley liked this well. 
 
 "Indeed?" returned Wendell, not quite so 
 warmly as such occasions demand. " I congratulate 
 you, Arthur. In fact, I suppose I should have ex- 
 pected it. But does your mother know it yet ? " 
 
 " No," replied Arthur, " but Ned will settle that. 
 He means to talk to her to-night. I wanted to do 
 it myself, and at once : but he said no, that he 
 wished to have the pleasure himself. Of course 
 there will be a row, but it won't last. And now 
 I am off. I think oh, I ought to say I know 
 that Miss Gray has told Miss Ann. Good-by ! " 
 
 " Why did you take it so coolly ? " asked Alice 
 of Dr. Wendell. "I don't think Arthur was 
 enough himself to notice your manner, but I did. 
 You must have had some expectation of it. I 
 should have really supposed you did not like it, if 
 I had. not known better." 
 
 " It seems like losing a child to lose Hester.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 295 
 
 I do not see how life would be possible without 
 her." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Mrs. Westerley, and picking 
 up a book began to cut its leaves with great pre- 
 cision. 
 
 " Why did you say Oh ? " queried Wendell. 
 
 " That should be an easy riddle," she answered. 
 
 " Alice, Alice," he returned, " none of your rid- 
 dles are easy ! You mean, do you not, that I should 
 lose the child's life when a dearer life becomes one 
 with mine ; that I was comparing the two loves, 
 which are both so sweet and so unlike ? " 
 
 " I did not say so." 
 
 " But you meant it, and yet you must know what 
 you are to me. Oh, no, you cannot know how you 
 fill my life with a sense of calm content ! You can- 
 not know that you alone rise to the level of under- 
 standing my ambitions, and believe that under hap- 
 pier circumstances I may come to be worthy, at 
 least in achievement, even of you. A brook flow- 
 ing into a dry land could not more surely find and 
 fill its depths of craving thirst than you my secret 
 longings ! Why do you still keep me waiting ? " 
 
 " I do not know. Cannot you, to whom I have 
 given so much and said so much, be contented, for 
 a while at least ? I know what I am to you. I 
 think I know what I can do to give you freedom 
 from all that now weighs down your life, and I 
 have said I have said I loved you." 
 
 " But, Alice " 
 
 " Oh," she went on, " you men are all selfish !
 
 296 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Do you wonder I should pause and delay ? I won- 
 der women ever do anything else. For you it is no 
 great change ; for us for me it is total. I give 
 up my ways, my plans, my right to be alone or not, 
 to go, to come, and I gain a master," she said, smil- 
 ing at him. " Oh, you must not think of me as 
 like Hester, like a young girl ! I must think, I 
 must think." 
 
 " And I must wait." 
 
 " Yes. But you know how it will end. You 
 must know, and when you have me, and I have 
 said that one fatal word, perhaps you will not find 
 me quite all that you choose to dream in your poet 
 heart." 
 
 " I have no fear," said Wendell, taking her 
 hand. How cool and soft it was ! He kissed it, 
 once, twice. " Oh, I love you, little hand, and I 
 should like well to keep you a close prisoner." 
 
 " And do jailers kiss their prisoners ? " she said, 
 smiling. "Let them go," she added, for now he 
 had both hands. " Let them go, and I will do 
 something very nice for you." 
 
 " What will you do ? Will you say yes ? " 
 
 " No," she replied, with set lips and an air of 
 the tenderest mutiny, "not yet! But I will do 
 what I have never done I I will once or 
 twice only once or twice I will call you 
 Ezra I think I like it Ezra ! " 
 
 It was a strange shock to Wendell. He disliked 
 his homely name, and was ashamed that he disliked 
 it. At first, for a moment, he really thought she
 
 72V WAR TIME. 297 
 
 was using it with a humorous sense of its oddness ; 
 but he saw this was not so, and then was pleased 
 that she had conquered this difficulty, which he felt 
 must be, for her as for him, an enormous one. 
 
 " Thank you," he said, releasing her hands. 
 " Don't you think it an odd name ? " 
 
 " I never thought about it at all," she returned. 
 " But now you must go. I expect Miss Clemson 
 here, and Mrs. Morton. It is well that walls tell 
 no tales, sir. Don't come here to-morrow, don't 
 come for a week, please ! " 
 
 " And how am I to stand that ?" said he. " A 
 week ? Not a whole week ? " 
 
 " Yes, that, all of that." 
 
 " And shall I have my answer then ? " 
 
 " I do not know. I think not. I do wish you 
 would go ! " 
 
 " Good-by, then." 
 
 " And you will see me in a week ? I shall ex- 
 pect you." 
 
 "And at what hour?" 
 
 " Oh, you must take your chance ! Now do go ! " 
 
 Mrs. Grace's letter to Colonel Fox bore fruit in 
 due season. It found him at midday on the march. 
 He read it, and as he crumpled it into his pocket 
 ejaculated one or two brief words not known to the 
 language of Friends. Then he rode along, musing, 
 sitting tall in the saddle, a fresh-colored man, with 
 a straight, large nose, of a good leathery tint just 
 now, curly-haired and clean-shaven, a face apt
 
 298 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 enough to be stern, but with eyes that seemed ready 
 with gentle apologies for his graver features ; alto- 
 gether the fair figure of a cavalier. Until his fa- 
 ther's time all of his race, since Penn sold them 
 lands in Merion, had been Friends of the straitest 
 sect, unto whom Thomas Hicks was an abomina- 
 tion ; but of late, although they still held with the 
 meeting and used the Quaker language, they had 
 ceased to affect a rigid plainness of attire. After 
 a rather unruly boyhood, George Fox had taken, 
 when quite young, the small capital his father had 
 left hun, and had gone to live on some iron lands 
 he owned in Allegheny County, and there had so 
 prospered that when the war broke out it found 
 him a rich and independent man. To the annoy- 
 ance of his family he at once entered the army, and 
 there brought to bear the energy, sagacity, and 
 power over men which he had shown in his busi- 
 ness, as well as a cool and ready courage, for which 
 in his previous life there been but small chance of 
 use. 
 
 Three weeks went by amidst the shock of armies 
 in their final grapple, and at last he had found 
 himself free again for a few days. There had been 
 little time to think calmly, but now he reflected, and 
 before long reached a conclusion altogether char- 
 acteristic of the man. He obtained a week's leave 
 of absence, and came home. What he there heard 
 casually made his purpose more firm, and with his 
 usual decisiveness he at once wrote to Mrs. Wes- 
 terley:
 
 IN WAR TIME. 299 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Westerley, I want to see you, and 
 to be sure to find you alone that I may talk with 
 you a few minutes. You need not fear that it will 
 be about myself ; but there is something not very 
 pleasant which I feel I must say to you, and which 
 I would be glad honestly glad not to have to 
 say." 
 
 Then he added that her reply would reach him 
 at the city headquarters. 
 
 Mrs. Westerley was made rather uneasy and in- 
 tensely curious by this note, and hastened to an- 
 swer that she would be at home to him at one, the 
 next day. 
 
 A few minutes before the hour set for his call, 
 Mrs. Westerley went into her drawing-rooms and 
 began to walk about, not at all as the male being 
 does when in thought or annoyed, but hither and 
 thither, from table to table, with what would have 
 , seemed to the man-minded immeasurably small 
 * purposes, in the way of moving a book, or setting 
 back a chair, or turning a vase around. Then de- 
 ciding that it was cool for May to be so close at 
 hand, she ordered the fire to be lighted ; and as the 
 yellow flames of the hickory shot up, she appeared 
 at last to be satisfied, and sat down for a moment, 
 only to rise again in order to move from her fire- 
 side table a book of antique look which Wendell 
 had sent her the day before, that she might look at 
 certain passages which he had marked. What 
 subtle woman's instinct caused her to lay the vol- 
 ume away out of sight on top of the cottage piano
 
 300 7;V WAR TIME. 
 
 she herself might have been puzzled to state. For 
 indeed the motives which induce these petty actions 
 are often so faintly registered that we may fail to 
 discover them at all, and the doing of a thing may 
 leave us with nothing but a slight surprise at what 
 we have done. 
 
 As almost automatically she obeyed her woman's 
 instinct, she suddenly seemed to perceive herself 
 as an uninterested observer might have done, and, 
 smiling, colored faintly as she moved away ; when 
 catching sight of herself in the mirror as she paused 
 before it she adjusted a rebel lock, turned her head 
 aside, and with one critical glance sat down by the 
 fire, and resolving to puzzle herself no further took 
 up a paper. She had hardly read a paragraph 
 when the servant opened the door, and saying, 
 " Colonel Fox, ma'am," left them alone. 
 
 It is given to few women to be unmoved when for 
 the first time after saying No to a man whom they 
 profoundly respect and admire they see him again. 
 Mrs. Westerley rose and shook hands with Fox 
 kindly and even warmly. It was remote from her 
 nature to hurt without being hurt herself, and she 
 somehow recognized the depth of the wound she 
 had given. She felt it even more now, as she 
 noted his evident embarrassment, which lessened 
 as he talked, but which she, of course, and very 
 naturally, attributed to his memory of their last 
 meeting. 
 
 " I am very glad to see you," she said. " Sit 
 down by the fire. How cold it is still ! And the
 
 IN WAR TIME. 301 
 
 war is over at last. I know you must be deeply 
 glad." 
 
 " Yes, I am of all men most thankful to be done 
 with it, and to get back to my mines and my moun- 
 tain home and my books. I went out to help to do 
 a certain needful duty, and we have done it and 
 done it well, I think. I wish I thought the legisla- 
 tion which must follow it would be as temperate 
 as we who fought would wish to have it, but we 
 shall have no share in the making of it." 
 
 " Oh, that is what Mr. Wilmington says," she 
 returned; "and I find all the soldiers I see are 
 most merciful in their talk about what ought to be 
 done. Arty says that the editors and the newspa- 
 per people are like the boys who held the school- 
 books when what he calls ' the fellows ' had a fight, 
 and were always more ferocious than those who 
 fought. However, I may be keeping you need- 
 lessly, but one must have a little war talk. I am 
 dying to know why you wanted to see me. I hope," 
 she added, kindly, " that it is for something a friend 
 can do for you." 
 
 " No," he replied sadly, " there is nothing you 
 can do for me, nothing ; and in justice to myself, 
 let me tell you beforehand that what I have come 
 here to say will put an impassable barrier between 
 you and me. I know this so well that I have hesi- 
 tated hesitated as I have never before hesitated 
 in all my life but " 
 
 "Then why," she asked quickly, and feeling a 
 gathering sense of anxiety, " why do you say it? "
 
 302 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " Because it is my duty, clearly my duty, as I 
 see it." 
 
 " And what is it ? " she returned, faintly. 
 
 " I will tell you in a moment," he replied ; "but 
 first let me ask you a question or two. Do you 
 believe that I love you, Mrs. Westerley?" 
 
 " I wish I did not. I should be happier if I did 
 not. I am afraid that I know you do," she contin- 
 ued, greatly disturbed. 
 
 " I am glad of that, because then you can under- 
 stand that it must be bitter for me coldly to ruin 
 that remnant of hope which every man who loves 
 such a woman as you must have, do as he will, rea- 
 son as he may." 
 
 " I think I understand," she said, looking in the 
 fire; "at least I can try to put myself in your 
 place. But what is it ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Be patient with me just a moment more, as 
 with a man about to die. One question more, and 
 do not be angry with me ! " 
 
 " No ; I can promise that. Go on." 
 
 " Are you going to marry Dr. Wendell ? " 
 
 Alice was certainly amazed. 
 
 "And if," she said, proudly, "I decline to an- 
 swer, if I do not choose to answer ? " 
 
 " Then," he said, now having himself well in 
 hand, " then I should say what I have come to 
 say, merely to explain my visit; and if it be un- 
 true that you mean so to honor him, what I should 
 say would be of no moment, and I should ask you 
 to consider my words as for you alone. But if, my
 
 
 72V WAR TIME. 303 
 
 friend, I may call you that, may 1 not ? if 
 you mean to marry Dr. Wendell, then what I have 
 to say will have its force for you, more or less as 
 may be." 
 
 She reflected a moment, and then answered him 
 gravely, " I spoke like a foolish girl. Yes, I mean 
 to marry him. I have not positively said I would, 
 but I shall. And now that I have spoken frankly 
 as, on this matter, to no one else, may I ask you in 
 mercy to do the same? You must know now that 
 you keep me in most painful suspense." 
 
 " When a man is signing the death-warrant of 
 hope, he may be pardoned delay, but I will be 
 brief. Early in the war, Mrs. Westerley, I was in 
 West Virginia, and heard a good deal of Dr. Wen- 
 dell. What I heard of him I liked well enough, 
 and there is much to like in him." 
 
 " Oh, go on," she exclaimed, impatiently. 
 
 " We had a fight on the Kanawha, and in falling 
 back three of our surgeons were left at a country 
 church, with a number of badly wounded men. 
 They soon came under a pretty heavy fire. Dr. 
 Wendell was in charge. I believe he had not been 
 in action before. One of the assistant surgeons 
 was wounded, but Dr. Wendell very soon showed 
 signs of uneasiness, and at last left his post and 
 followed our retreat. He was permitted to leave 
 the army quietly, and in fact the matter was for- 
 gotten in the tumult of war; but it came to me 
 both ofiicially and in another way. I felt sorry for 
 him then, and even now I wonder over it ; but how,
 
 304 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 knowing this, could I let a high-minded woman, 
 whom I love, many in ignorance a man who is a " 
 He meant to say a coward, but looking at the 
 woman who was so dear to him he hesitated, while 
 Alice rose to her feet, overcome by a rush of emo- 
 tions and broken reasonings, too hurried and too 
 wild for analysis or easy expression. 
 
 "Stop," she said, "stop! You have said 
 enough, you have said too much ! I do not be- 
 lieve it, and I am amazed that you, of all men, 
 should have dared to tell me such a tale ! I do not 
 believe it ! It is but one more of the endless stories 
 of this kind which have been blown about in regard 
 to every one." 
 
 " No, it is true." 
 
 " True ! How dare you tell me it is true ! And 
 is there no cowardice in repeating such a story to a 
 woman ? " 
 
 " Cowardice ! " cried Fox, amazed. " And you 
 do not credit me, then ? " 
 
 " No, it is incredible ! " 
 
 " And yet," he said, feeling that she was adding 
 horribly to the bitterness of his distasteful task, 
 " and yet it is true, and officially on record. Hap- 
 pily, it is known to few, I am sure. He is not 
 aware that I know it. Try to feel, as you are noble 
 enough to feel, what I must have gone through in 
 deciding to bring to you this miserable story. If I 
 could have told you of some noble action of the 
 man's, of some deed of courage, on my honor, 
 Alice, I should rather have done it ! I should have
 
 IN WAR TIME. 305 
 
 been glad to do it. I have given myself pain 
 which if I could have gauged it beforehand would 
 have made me falter even more." 
 
 Then they remained silent and in thought. It 
 was impossible not to believe him, it was impos- 
 sible to doubt a man like Fox ; but after this 
 what ? A man might fail once, and never again ; 
 and why must this one defect be allowed to mar a 
 life, and follow a man with unending punishment ? 
 But then the shame of such dishonor rose up before 
 her proud conscience, and the scene itself came 
 blindingly into her visual sphere : men wounded, 
 dying; a duty abandoned in terror of mere death! 
 How petty death seemed to her ! And if it should 
 ever be widely known, what would men say, and 
 above all Mr. Wilmington, with his old-fashioned 
 sense of honor, and cynical Morton, and the boys ? 
 She sat slowly twisting her handkerchief. She felt 
 like a mariner on some wild shore, surf-bruised, 
 helpless, the sport of rock and wave, now ashore, 
 now in deep water. Then at last she looked up 
 from the fire, and saw a great tenderness of sorrow 
 in the face of the man who looked at her. 
 
 " Pity me ! " she cried, and burst into a passion 
 of tears. 
 
 " Pity ! " he repeated. " Ah, if I could but take 
 the pain for you! Had I thought it would hurt 
 you this way, I I would never have spoken." 
 
 " But why, why did you ? I was so happy, and 
 now you must speak to me you must say more. 
 I I can't think. Perhaps it was just once?
 
 306 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 He might have been ill, who knows? God alone 
 can judge such things ! Do you think I should let 
 it break up and destroy all the rest of a good and 
 useful life ? " She spoke, as it were, fragments of 
 thought. " Who needs to be to be so brave 
 in our e very-day life ! " 
 
 Fox was appalled. He hesitated. How should 
 he talk to this woman whom he loved, how say 
 to her that courage is the backbone of character, 
 the life of every virtue ; that in Wendell's case the 
 lack of it made the true fulfillment of duty impossi- 
 v ble ; that the want of it had left wounded men to 
 die who otherwise might have lived ? It seemed 
 to him a thing so simply shameful that to empha- 
 size it with comment was absurd. But it was plain 
 that he must answer her. 
 
 "I have said what I thought right to say. I 
 must leave it to you now. If it be a small thing to 
 you, I shall mistrust my judgment of a woman I 
 honor. If you choose to condone it, that is your 
 business, not mine ; but as you love truth, I pray 
 of you this only : to believe that no base jealousy 
 has driven me to speak. That man is no more to 
 me in life than the fly on your window-pane, and 1 
 end as I began, by saying that to be able to come 
 to you and try to save a noble life from no, I 
 will not hurt you more I have paid a great price 
 to enable me to help you, if it may be : for now 
 I know that if you decide one way it will still be 
 impossible for me to even dream of presuming on 
 your freedom by a word, or ever to make use of the
 
 IN WAR TIME. 307 
 
 freedom I have given you ; and if if you decide 
 another way, and my words remain as useless as 
 words unsaid, even then our friendship must cease 
 to exist, or at least to have any active being, for 
 surely you will never care to look upon my face 
 again, Alice." She felt that this was true. 
 
 She was now sitting, wan and aghast, a little 
 sideways on a low chair, her chin in her palm. 
 
 " It is so, but don't go yet. I ought to be angry, 
 and I was angry. I am not so now. Sit down. 
 I am so dazed I cannot reason, and I am sure when 
 you are gone I shall want to have said something 
 more." 
 
 They were silent again a moment. Then a wild 
 pang of thought struck through her brain. 
 
 " Does he know of this visit, of your purpose ? " 
 
 " Not yet, but of course he must know. I in- 
 tended to tell him first." 
 
 " But you did not, you did not ? " she said, real- 
 izing swiftly the pain it would be to Wendell to 
 know that she had heard it all. 
 
 " No, I did not, but I shall. I have a letter in 
 my pocket now, which I shall leave at his house." 
 
 " Give it to me ! " she cried, sharply, rising and 
 coming towards him. 
 
 Fox stood up. He felt powerless to resist her. 
 " There it is," he said. 
 
 She tore it passionately, and threw it into the 
 fire. " And you will not speak of this to him ? 
 You will not write another letter? Promise me. 
 I insist. I have a right to insist. It is all you
 
 308 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 can do for me. You have been, ah, so bitterly 
 cruel to me ! Yes, yes, I know ; duty, of course. 
 Oh, my God ! my God ! " 
 
 " What ! " cried Fox. " Say this of a man to a 
 woman he loves, and be silent to him ? Possibly 
 ruin his chances of a happy life, and hide Oh, 
 I cannot do that, not even for you. Then truly 
 you might reproach me with cowardice." 
 
 " But," she returned, firmly, " if you knew it 
 would not mar his happiness, I mean what you 
 have said, then there would have been no harm 
 done." 
 
 Fox moved back a step or two, like one recoiling 
 from terror. 
 
 " Oh, my God," he exclaimed, " is this possible ! 
 And and really It is all as nothing to you ? 
 I will not tell him, make yourself easy on that 
 matter ; " and so saying he turned and went quickly 
 out of the room, without more words, while Alice, 
 pale and stern, looked after him, speechless. 
 
 She had saved Wendell, of that she was sure ; 
 but she had saved him at bitter cost to herself, and 
 she would have given a year of life to forget the 
 look of scorn, wonder, and disbelief which took 
 quick possession of the soldier's face as he turned 
 to go. 
 
 " I shall never see him again," she said, " and 
 he does not understand. How can he under- 
 stand?" 
 
 Then the near memory of the troubled hour 
 melted into a certain tenderness of thought about
 
 IN WAR TIME. 309 
 
 the man she loved. She loved him, that she 
 knew full well ; and she had saved him from what 
 would have been for both one long misery. Be- 
 yond this she could not yet go. To reason on it all 
 was impossible, and she was shocked when, days 
 afterwards, she saw Wendell to find that she was 
 more undecided than before. Sometimes remem- 
 brance pleads better than any presence, and the 
 statue which love carves has graces the model never 
 knew. But despite her doubts she knew that she 
 should marry Wendell, for in natures like hers the 
 maturity of a love once born is as certain as the 
 growth of morning. 
 
 Colonel Fox went away sick at heart, and for a 
 time disgusted. Never before had he so laid bare 
 his soul, never fought so stern a fight for self-sub- 
 dual. He had failed, he felt, failed alike in his 
 purpose and in command over himself ; for in a 
 crisis of passionate anguish like this the individual- 
 ities of men, repressed by decorous usage, break 
 loose as they did in the early days of the Renais- 
 sance, and the true natures of men and women 
 clash like sword blades in the fury of unchecked 
 realities. 
 
 He went home and wrote briefly to Mrs. Wes- 
 terley, " Pray God to forgive me, dear friend. I 
 knew not what I did ; " and then he returned to 
 camp, and hid his trouble in the active work of 
 breaking up his regiment, and in trying to take 
 some thought of those of his men who needed help 
 or lacked immediate employment.
 
 XIX. 
 
 EDWARD had insisted upon taking what was 
 properly Arthur's task, the telling of the latter's 
 engagement to Mrs. Morton. He was well aware 
 that she would listen to her elder son when she 
 would listen to no one else, but he had also other 
 reasons for desiring to come between his mother 
 and brother. His own estate was ample, and he 
 knew that she would present arguments about 
 money which his means gave him the ability to put 
 aside ; moreover, he had taken this duty on himself 
 with some vague sense of its being, as it were, a 
 penance for the wild desires which still at times 
 shook his firmest resolves. 
 
 He found his mother busy in the library. 
 
 " I want a few moments of your time, mother," 
 he said. 
 
 She turned to listen, with the gentle readiness of 
 attention she had always for him. " What is it, 
 my boy?" 
 
 " I have asked Arty to let me tell you of his en- 
 gagement to Hester. It is a great pleasure to me, 
 for you know I am very, very fond of her." 
 
 " Engaged to Arthur ! Nonsense, Edward, they 
 are mere children ; and if they were not, it is a 
 thing I should totally disapprove, totally ! I 
 shall tell Arthur so. I can understand very well
 
 IN WAR TIME. 311 
 
 why he was unwilling to speak to me about it. 
 There was a time when I was consulted about the 
 affairs of my own household." 
 
 " But, my dear mother," said Edward, a little 
 amused, despite his sore heart, " these are not chil- 
 dren, and you must have seen what was going on. 
 As for Arthur, he has made a name for himself, 
 and so far as I can see has the right every man has 
 to marry whom he will. War ages people fast, 
 /mother." 
 
 " Marry ! " she returned, " marry, indeed ! 
 On what is he to marry ? They have neither of 
 them a cent." 
 
 " But I don't suppose he wants to marry her to- 
 morrow. Fox wishes him to take a share in his 
 iron works, so as to be himself more at liberty ; and 
 I mean, if you don't altogether disapprove, and 
 you won't, will you, mother ? to give Arty the 
 capital he will require." 
 
 " Of course," said Mrs. Morton, petulantly, " it 
 is all to be managed without the slightest reference 
 to me. An unknown girl, half educated, coming 
 from nobody knows where, and brought up by these 
 common Yankee Wendells ! " \ 
 
 Clearly Mrs. Morton was angry and unjust. 
 
 " They may be plain, but common or vulgar they 
 are not ; and really, you know, as to what you say 
 about Hester, my dear mother, that is well, not 
 quite true. The Grays are good old Carolina peo- 
 ple. Now please don't talk so. It is n't like you. 
 It is n't at all like you."
 
 312 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " Still, among them, Ned, they have trapped AT- 
 thur ; and as to the girl " 
 
 " Stop, mother ! " he entreated ; " don't say any 
 more. No one has trapped him. You hurt me." 
 
 " Hurt you ! What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I had not meant to tell even you, dear mother, 
 but now I must. I loved her myself, mother, I 
 most dearly loved her ! But I am an old, battered, 
 useless man, and no fair young life like that is to 
 be mine." 
 
 " You loved her," she said softly, " and he has 
 taken her from you. Oh, my boy ! " 
 
 " No, you are again unjust. Neither she nor he 
 knows this, or ever will know it. No one but you 
 knows it." 
 
 " My poor Ned ! Ah, if only I could help you." 
 
 " But you can help me. No one can help me 
 better than by bringing Hester as near to me as it 
 is God's good will that she should be." 
 
 " There is nothing you can say, my son, that has 
 not full weight with me ; but about this matter I 
 should have been consulted sooner. I must think 
 about it. Oh, if it had been you, Ned, you would 
 have told me." 
 
 " I don't know that, mother ; and you must re- 
 member that it is my fault he did not tell you." 
 
 " And you loved this girl, my son, and you gave 
 her away." 
 
 " No, she went away," said Ned, smiling. 
 
 " Who is that on the porch, Ned ? " 
 
 "It is Miss Ann."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 313 
 
 " I don't want to see her. I do not want to see 
 any one. I shall never get over this, Edward, 
 never." 
 
 " She may have come about this very thing. It 
 would be quite like her straightforward ways. I 
 am sure she will feel, mother, that she is in the 
 place of a mother to Hester, and, knowing how 
 much her brother owes to you, will think as I do, 
 that we can do nothing without you." 
 
 " It would be a very correct and proper feeling 
 for her to have, but I am surprised that any one 
 either thinks or feels correctly nowadays." 
 
 " But you will see her ? " 
 
 " Yes, as you wish it. The servants know that 
 I am at home." 
 
 "And shall I go?" 
 
 "No. Why should you?" 
 
 Miss Ann entered, looking rosy and plump, with 
 her usual expression of undisturbed calm. Duties 
 were not always pleasant to Ann, but they were to 
 be done, and done effectively, like any household 
 tasks. In ordinary social intercourse Mrs. Mor- 
 ton was a trifle dreaded by Ann Wendell, who felt 
 that her own ways were not as the ways of these 
 people ; but in matters of graver nature no human 
 being would have awed or stayed the spinster for a 
 moment. 
 
 There was a hearty welcome from Edward Mor- 
 ton, and a kind but not over-hearty greeting from 
 his mother, who, as Ned said afterwards, had on a 
 black silk dress and her sternest expression, and
 
 314 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 who, with the light of battle in her eyes, looked at 
 the rosy, plump little woman as if she were an 
 emissary from the camp of the foe. 
 
 Ann Wendell talked very little at any time, and 
 was unskilled in the civilized art of saying non- 
 committal nothings. The winds and the storms in- 
 terested her, and she spoke of them, but with an 
 uncommon earnestness ; and this was because she 
 had been born on Cape Cod, and they had been the 
 rough playmates of her calm and ordered child- 
 hood. But her talk about weather was almost the 
 only minor chat she knew how to use. She was 
 disturbed as she came in by the presence of Ed- 
 ward Morton, and thinking he might leave before 
 long was relieved when Mrs. Morton, who felt the 
 need of a little neutral conversation, began with 
 the usual commonplace introductories. 
 
 "Did you walk over, Miss Wendell? What a 
 famous walker you are! In these delicious May 
 days it is a pleasure to breathe. But you ought to 
 wear a veil ; the wind burns one so badly." 
 
 " Yes, I walked. It is n't very far. I have 
 never been brought up to wear veils ; " and then 
 she added with consecutive exactness of reply, 
 " You mentioned the weather ; I don't feel quite 
 sure about it. It looks like a northeaster brewing, 
 and you know that makes one anxious. It's so 
 bad for the fishermen." 
 
 Mrs. Morton did not know, but she felt faintly 
 amused, which was well just at this time. 
 
 "Indeed, I hardly ever notice the weather
 
 IN WAR TIME. 315 
 
 much. I am luckily one of those happy people 
 who have no interest in the weather-cock." 
 
 " I wish I had not," said her son. " I think old 
 Nick invented the east wind." 
 
 " The winds are all of God's sending, Edward," 
 returned Ann, gently shaking her head, and with 
 some mild censure in her tones, while Mrs. Morton 
 looked up abruptly, with displeased surprise that 
 this woman should address her eldest son in this 
 familiar fashion. She had heard her do so before, 
 but just now was doubly ready to make disagree- 
 able comments. 
 
 "And so are many unpleasant things, Miss 
 Ann," said Edward, smiling. " But you see, if the 
 winds were predestined, I was predestined to abuse 
 them, and so it 's all a part of the foreordained ar- 
 rangements of the universe." He liked to puzzle 
 Ann Wendell. 
 
 " Yes, I dare say," returned Ann, seriously, get- 
 ting her mind in order for a skirmish on free will, 
 and the like. 
 
 " My dear Ned," said Mrs. Morton, smiling, 
 " you are a great preacher lost. Won't you take 
 off your cloak, Miss Wendell? " 
 
 " No, thank you," she replied. " I have but a few 
 minutes. I came over to talk to you about a thing 
 which has been on my mind ; a matter " 
 
 " And shall I leave you with mother ? " 
 
 "Is it about Miss Hester Gray?" asked Mrs. 
 Morton, who was getting impatient. 
 
 " Yes, it is about her ; but I was thinking that 
 perhaps your son "
 
 316 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " If it is about Hester I should prefer that Mr. 
 Morton stayed. We were discussing that very dis- 
 agreeable affair when you came in, and as Edward 
 represents his father, just now, it is my wish that 
 he remain. Will you have the kindness to go on, 
 Miss Wendell?" 
 
 Ann did not like it, but the formal directness of 
 this speech in no way troubled her ; and she felt 
 that after all it was a family matter, and that Mrs. 
 Morton had a right to choose who should be pres- 
 ent. 
 
 "It must be as you like. You know I sup- 
 pose you know that Arthur has asked Hester to 
 marry him, and that she has said she would." 
 
 "Yes, I have heard as much," returned Mrs. 
 Morton, stiffly. 
 
 " I am sorry, very sorry, about it. I did not 
 think it would have come about so soon, or I should 
 have felt it my duty to speak of it before. I am to 
 blame, because I know, and I think you must 
 know, that it is a thing which can never be." 
 
 " Never be ! " broke in Edward. " Why, what 
 reason on earth, Miss Ann, can you have to say 
 that?" 
 
 " Be so good as to keep quiet, Edward ! " ex- 
 claimed his mother. " I am glad to hear a little 
 common sense from some one. Pray go on, Miss 
 Wendell. I quite agree with you." 
 
 A little puzzled, Ann hesitated for a moment, 
 but only for a moment. " I was afraid," she con- 
 tinued, "that I was wrong. It is very difficult to be
 
 IN WAR TIME. 317 
 
 always right, but I could not see how any one who 
 knew what we know could just look on and say 
 nothing." 
 
 " Knew what we know ? " repeated Mrs. Morton. 
 " I don't quite clearly understand you." 
 
 " Nor I," added Edward. 
 
 " And yet you do know that when Captain Gray 
 was dying he said over and over that it was your 
 husband who killed him ; and can a dying man 
 lie ? The law says he cannot." 
 
 "And have you really kept that nonsense in 
 your head all this time ? " exclaimed Mrs. Morton. 
 
 "I have had it on my mind," replied Ann. 
 " But it is not nonsense. The law says " 
 
 " But the law deals thus only with the sane ! " 
 exclaimed Mrs. Morton, bewildered an instant by 
 the firm hold which this incident had obtained on 
 Ann's faith. 
 
 "What does this all mean, mother?" said Ed- 
 ward. " I have listened simply with astonishment, 
 but our good friend Miss Ann is not a rash or hasty 
 talker. Please explain it to me. What does it 
 mean ? " 
 
 "It is easily explained, Edward. Hester's fa- 
 ther died delirious at the hospital, and unhappily 
 occupied the bed next to your father. Something 
 your father said put it in Captain Gray's mind 
 that the shot which finally cost him his life was 
 fired by your father. This idea incessantly haunted 
 his brain, and at last was so annoying that we 
 were obliged to move your father before it was
 
 318 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 quite prudent. I have heard that poor Gray raved 
 about this delusion until he died." 
 
 " But " said Ann. 
 
 " One moment, excuse me," continued Mrs. 
 Morton. "This is the simple statement of what 
 happened. Mr. Morton said it was impossible and 
 absurd ; Dr. Lagrange and Dr. Wendell said the 
 same ; and now comes Miss Wendell to ask us to 
 consider this story from a tragic point of view ! " 
 
 It certainly did seem to Edward as nearly ludi- 
 crous as so grave a matter could be. 
 
 " Does n't it seem strange, Miss Ann, that you, 
 of all these various people, should be the only one 
 to continue to think seriously of this matter? Can- 
 not you see in what an exceptional position it 
 places you? Can you be right, and all these oth- 
 ers who know more of it than you altogether 
 wrong? Surely you cannot have reflected upon 
 the matter." 
 
 " But he said it, he said it," urged Ann, 
 firmly. For years she had brooded over this, and 
 now it had become for her a fact not to be ques- 
 tioned. To pass it over in silence appeared an in- 
 conceivable mode of dealing with what was for her 
 an awful reality. 
 
 " Said it ! Of course he said it," answered Mrs. 
 Morton ; " I heard him say it. But what then ? 
 Dying men say many silly things, and Dr. La- 
 grange told me that this was perfectly nonsensical. 
 In fact, how could the man know who hurt him, 
 in such a scene as that ? "
 
 IN WAR TIME. 319 
 
 " But Colonel Morton told him it was so," re- 
 plied Ann. 
 
 " Told him ! Nonsense. That, at least, is dis- 
 tinctly untrue." 
 
 " Your husband will not say so, I am sure," in- 
 sisted Ann. 
 
 " And I am as sure he will," said Edward. " I 
 never heard the story before, but of all the absurd 
 things I ever did hear this seems to me the most 
 so." 
 
 "Indeed, I agree with you," said Mrs. Mor- 
 ton. 
 
 " And how could you, Miss Ann, of all people," 
 urged Edward, " entertain for a moment such an 
 idea ? Cannot you see what an impossible thing it 
 is, and what mischief it may make ? " 
 
 " We must do our duty, and leave the issues to 
 God. It is true, I am sure it is true. I think I 
 am sure," she added, recalling what Dr. Lagrange 
 was reported to have said. " Even if you do not 
 credit it, Hester must be enabled to use her own 
 judgment upon it. I shall tell her." 
 
 " No, by heavens, no ! " cried Edward, angrily. 
 
 "But I must." 
 
 " You cannot dream of such a course," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Morton. " Eemember that my husband, Ar- 
 thur, all of us, are concerned! It seems to me, 
 Miss Wendell, a strange return for what we have 
 tried to do for your brother." 
 
 "Mother, mother! " said Edward. 
 
 Ann began to see that there were several sides to
 
 320 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 this question, clear as it had seemed to her, plain as 
 she had thought that it must be to every one. 
 
 " I am not ungrateful. We owe you much," and 
 her eyes filled. " I have not wanted to be unjust, 
 and least of all to you and yours." 
 
 " Oh, my mother did not mean that," declared 
 Edward. 
 
 "No," assented Mrs. Morton, "I did not; but 
 when such absolute nonsense is talked, how can we 
 stop to choose our words ! " 
 
 Ann was hurt and troubled. " And what can I 
 do ? " she asked, much moved. " I see before me 
 a duty. To you it is absurd. And yet it remains. 
 I ask you, as a Christian woman, what can I do ? " 
 
 " Do ? Do nothing," returned Mrs. Morton. 
 
 "Wait, at least, till I hear from my father," 
 urged Edward, sensibly, little knowing the train of 
 events his purpose was to start. 
 
 " You will believe him, I presume ? " said Mrs. 
 Morton. 
 
 " If he can say that it was not so, and can show 
 us that it was not, I shall believe." 
 
 Edward was somewhat amused at her doubts, 
 but also much relieved. "That will answer per. 
 fectly. And you and I will talk it all over. I am 
 sure I can satisfy you, quite sure. And you will 
 not speak of this to Hester until we have heard 
 from my father." 
 
 " No, I will not ; not now, at least." 
 
 " Then it is settled ? " 
 
 " Yes, for the present ; " and she rose and went
 
 IN WAR TIME. 321 
 
 away, not quite as well satisfied with herself as she 
 had been. 
 
 " Yet I was right," she thought; " if it were only 
 an accident of war, I should still be right ! " 
 
 " Well, my son," said Mrs. Morton, rather illog- 
 ically, "you see what comes of association with 
 such people as these, and how it ends ? " 
 
 Edward smiled. "Hardly. But, mother, did 
 you ever dream or hear of such inconceivable non- 
 sense? Poor Miss Ann has lived so out of the 
 world that she is really to be excused ; but the mis- 
 chief of it all, mother, the mischief ! Why, the 
 mere whisper of such a thing would craze a girl 
 like Hester ; and then poor Arty ! " 
 
 " I said it could n't possibly come to any good, 
 and now you see." 
 
 " But it must come to good, mother, and it will. 
 And now you are going to try to see it as I do, and 
 think what it will be for me to have a sister like 
 Hester." 
 
 " I shall do, as I have always done, the best for 
 my children ; but I am sure your father won't 
 like it." 
 
 "Wait till he hears what I say," he returned. 
 " I shall write at once. I cannot get this thing out 
 of my head. It seems to me so full of danger." 
 
 "It is certainly very disagreeable. You may 
 say to Arthur, Ned, that I will think it over. I 
 cannot see my way to any conclusion as yet ; and 
 meanwhile I would rather not talk to him about it." 
 
 "But won't he feel hurt?"
 
 322 72V WAR TIME 
 
 " That he should have thought about before," 
 she said, and went up-stairs, resolving that she 
 would talk it all over with Alice Westerley, who 
 had heard this strange tale, and who, as her friend 
 remembered, had simply smiled at it as a matter of 
 odd interest. 
 
 Edward wrote at once to his father, inclosing a 
 note from Arthur, and with less patience than was 
 usual with him awaited a reply.
 
 XX. 
 
 MRS. GRACE by degrees recovered from the 
 shock of her tilt with Mrs. Westerley. Hers was 
 a moral constitution not prone to suffer long from 
 wounds, and she soon began again to take a com- 
 placent interest in the affairs of her neighbors. 
 She had not quite liked a letter she had received 
 from Colonel Fox, and had also had some difficulty 
 in explaining to Mr. Grace what she had done to 
 justify her cousin's refusal to act longer as her 
 trustee. At present she was a good deal taken up 
 with her daughter, who was malarious from much 
 S furtive ingestion of bon-bons ; but the mother still 
 found leisure to do a little dull talk when occasion 
 offered. It had seemed to her that it was wise to 
 ignore Alice Westerley's rebuffs, and she therefore 
 lost no occasion to speak to her, a course alike 
 unpleasing and amazing to her sensitive victim. 
 
 There had been a meeting at Miss Clemson's 
 house, and the rooms had been filled with women 
 interested in the care of the orphans made by the 
 war. As usual Mrs. Morton kept things straight, 
 and so checked diffusive talk that the work was 
 soon over and assigned to committees. Then most 
 of the women went away, and the few who were 
 left fell to chatting.
 
 324 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Miss Clemson looked taller than ever in her 
 small rooms, and also more gaunt, having adopted 
 a new and wholesome but implacable kind of dress, 
 which seemed to have disposed, once for all, of the 
 kindly curves of the human frame. 
 
 "Where did you get the pattern of that table 
 cover ? " asked Mrs. Grace. 
 
 " Is n't it quaint? " said Miss Clemson. " Miss 
 Wendell made it; or rather, to be precise, Miss 
 Gray made it after a design which Miss Wendell 
 gave her ; but I added the fringe myself." 
 
 " It is very nice," assented Mrs. Grace. " I sup- 
 pose we shall soon have news of Hester Gray and 
 Arthur Morton. But how his mother will hate it ! 
 Not a cent, my dear. And in her old age, too ! " 
 
 " Really," returned Miss Clemson, " the interest 
 which marriage appears to possess for some people, 
 Mrs. Grace, is curious to me." 
 
 " But why curious ? " asked Mrs. Bullock. " I 
 can understand your own indifference to it, my dear. 
 It 's a bad habit you acquired young : " which was 
 true, since in her blonde youth Miss Clemson had 
 been fatal; but then and always had vaguely re- 
 sented the admiration of men. 
 
 "Why?" she returned. "If you would read 
 Quetelet or Buckle, you would see that marriage is 
 purely a matter of statistics. Given so many men 
 and women, there will be just so many marriages. 
 The unit in such matters is of mere fractional 
 value." 
 
 " I don't think I quite approve of your views/ 
 exclaimed Mrs. Grace.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 325 
 
 " I dare say," said Miss Clemson, indifferently ; 
 and then Mrs. Bullock laughed. 
 
 At that moment Alice Westerley, who overheard 
 them, and who was in high good humor, joined the 
 group. 
 
 " Don't any of you trust Jane Clemson on the 
 subject of marriage," she said. " After filling her 
 wigwam with countless scalps, she sits down and 
 says that nobody else ought to go on the war-path." 
 
 " I don't think," rejoined Miss Clemson, who 
 took all discussion gravely, "I don't think that 
 marriage should be the single goal of a woman's 
 existence. Let us educate women as well as men 
 are educated, and then they will have so many 
 higher aims in life that they will not condescend 
 to dress and talk and dance merely to please men." 
 
 " I should think that just a little ignorance 
 might be conducive to bliss in these days," said 
 Alice. " I should like to start a rival college, with 
 professorships of the art of pleasing. What not 
 to know should be one branch of study. Your wise 
 girl graduates would be nowhere." 
 
 " Men will never truly respect us," returned 
 Miss Clemson, "until we compete with them in 
 their universities and in their professions." 
 
 " I shall advise Arty to apply for admission at 
 Vassar." 
 
 " I don't think he could pass." 
 
 " Perhaps not. It would depend somewhat on 
 the age of the examiners. But I must speak to 
 Helen Morton before I go," and she turned away, 
 laughing.
 
 326 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " It is impossible for Alice to discuss anything 
 seriously," said Miss Clemson. " It is really a sad 
 defect in so fine a nature." 
 
 " I quite agree with you," murmured Mrs. Grace, 
 to whom the remark was not addressed. 
 
 Miss Clemson rather resented her assenting opin- 
 ion, but said nothing further. 
 
 Then Mrs. Bullock spoke with decisiveness about 
 the warmth of the weather. 
 
 " Yes. It seems nearly impossible to regulate 
 the temperature of one's rooms. I looked at my 
 thermometers before you came, but they don't quite 
 agree. One does expect thermometers to agree, 
 even if people do not. Please to open that window 
 behind you, Mrs. Bullock." 
 
 " Dr. Withers," remarked Mrs. Grace, " says 
 that I keep my house too cool ; but Sarah she 
 is never hot enough." 
 
 " Dr. Withers ! " exclaimed Mrs. Bullock. " I 
 thought Dr. Wendell attended you." 
 
 " Not now. I could not get him to come into 
 my views. He says Sarah has no liver." 
 
 " Rather odd, that, I must say," commented Miss 
 Clemson. 
 
 " Yes, was n't it? when I know she is just all 
 liver and malaria, and that 's what 's the matter 
 with her. But then he never was of much account 
 about livers, and they do say his practice is going 
 to pieces. Mrs. Starr has left him, and Mrs. Evans 
 is going to give him up." 
 
 " I am afraid," said Mrs. Bullock, who had also
 
 IN WAR TIME. 327 
 
 her views as concerned doctors, "I am afraid he 
 doesn't consider constitutions enough. There is 
 everything in knowing people's constitutions." 
 
 " I hope you are both wrong," responded Miss 
 Clemson, who liked Wendell. " I never change 
 my doctor." 
 
 " Oh, don't you ? " said Mrs. Grace. 
 
 " Because I never have one ! " cried Miss Clem- 
 son, laughing. 
 
 During this Mrs. Westerley, who was pretending 
 to sympathize with a sad tale of departing cooks, 
 and like grievances, was keenly listening to the 
 chat beside her. She knew that Wendell was not 
 keeping his patients, and a sense of indignant 
 annoyance arose in her mind that this wretched 
 woman should dare to sit in judgment on a man 
 like Wendell. She felt more and more that she, 
 at least, must stand by him. Then a new phase of 
 the talk caught her ear. 
 
 "I don't think," continued Miss Clemson, who 
 never allowed abuse of the absent, " that people 
 here appreciate Dr. Wendell's abilities. He ought 
 to be in a great city. I think myself that it is 
 very difficult to judge of a physician. We have n't 
 the opportunities or even the knowledge." 
 
 "I dare say," replied Mrs. Bullock, who was 
 facile in abandoning her opinions. "And I must 
 say this for Dr. Wendell : he went last week to see 
 my farmer's wife, and she and three of her children 
 had small-pox ; and I can tell you if I were a doc- 
 tor I certainly would not attend cases of small-pox ! 
 I did hear that Dr. Withers would n't go."
 
 328 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " Oh, I suppose it is n't his specialty," explained 
 Mrs. Grace ; " and after all, it is their business." 
 
 " Still, I think it is a brave thing," said Miss 
 Clemson, " to face diseases as they do. I call a 
 man brave who just coolly goes as an e very-day 
 affair, and takes these risks. It is the only pur- 
 suit in quiet times in which the peril is incessant 
 and the call for quiet courage constant." 
 
 " Well, I am glad my doctor does n't go to such 
 cases," said Mrs. Grace. " But I must speak to 
 Mrs. Morton." 
 
 Alice listened eagerly. It soothed her immeas- 
 urably to feel that here was some one who could 
 call Wendell brave. She would have liked to kiss 
 the tall spinster, who had thus ignorantly poured 
 balm on her wounds, but contented herself with 
 saying, as she turned to leave, 
 
 " My dear, how well you look ! And what is 
 your secret for keeping a complexion like a baby's ? 
 It must be the way you 're dressed ; but then you 
 women who never think about such things have 
 always the nicest dresses ; " for which little fib let 
 us hope the fair widow may be forgiven, and her 
 flattery set down to an honest desire to pay her 
 debts with usury thereto. 
 
 Altogether the morning had been a good one for 
 her lover, and with a new tenderness and a pride 
 that set her wondering if Fox himself would have 
 stood this other test of courage, she went out into 
 the May sunshine feeling in pleasant accord with 
 the weather.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 329 
 
 Then Mrs. Morton overtook her, and said that 
 she would walk to her house, as she had something 
 to say to her; and so, leaving the other women, 
 they turned into Mrs. Westerley's gate. In the 
 drawing-room they found Hester and Mr. Wil- 
 mington, who was apt to make some excuse to see 
 Mrs. Westerley as often as he could. He had not 
 misused his leisure, and in fact preferred, as he 
 said, one woman at a time. 
 
 " So, Miss Hester," he had remarked, " Master 
 Arthur has been saying pretty things to you, I 
 hear?" 
 
 " Indeed, you must be misinformed," replied the 
 young lady, beginning to grow quite unreasonably 
 warm. 
 
 " Oh, but he has told me all about it " said 
 Wilmington. 
 
 " Then you had best not believe a word he says," 
 she returned, smiling. " I never do." 
 
 " Watch him well, my dear ; watch him well. 
 The godfather who could renounce for any of that 
 Morton breed the devil and the What 's the 
 rest of it ? " 
 
 " How should I know ? " answered Hester. " I 
 never was a godfather." 
 
 " Nor I. But there is something they renounce. 
 I would n't do it for Edward, and I would n't for 
 Arthur. Oh, you are a rash young woman ! " 
 
 " But I am not to be a godfather ; and with 
 your counsel," she returned archly, " and your ex- 
 perience of those things he ought to have had re-
 
 330 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 nounced for him, don't you think we may get 
 along?" 
 
 " Oh, it 's ' we ' now ! Be very good, and tell 
 me what you want for a wedding present." 
 
 " A house, and a carriage and four," she cried, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Gracious, I shall be a ruined man ! But here 
 come Mrs. Westerley and Mrs. Morton." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Hester, who had not seen the 
 latter lady for some time, and who dreaded the en- 
 counter. Mrs. Westerley kissed her, and Mrs. 
 Morton asked how she was, and was coldly civil, 
 as such a woman well knows how to be ; while poor 
 Hester, who fully understood that she was by no 
 means to be welcomed into the Morton family, felt 
 as if no corner could be undesirably small as a 
 refuge. 
 
 Wilmington was aware that there was an unpleas- 
 ant check in Hester's love affair, and he also liked 
 to annoy Mrs. Morton at times ; so partly from 
 disapproval of her present course, and partly from 
 habit, he lapsed into the repetitions which were apt 
 to overtake him when with more than one person, 
 or when it pleased him not to help the talk. 
 
 " I don't think Edward is very well," said Mrs. 
 Morton, speaking past Hester. 
 
 "No, he isn't well," muttered Wilmington. 
 "Looks sick." 
 
 " And I have lost two cows in a week." 
 
 " Two cows in a week ! " 
 
 " Don't you think that is atrociously bad luck, 
 Mr. Wilmington?"
 
 IN WAR TIME. 331 
 
 " Yes, that 's bad luck." 
 
 Then Mrs. Morton felt forced to fall back on 
 Hester, as Mrs. Westerley, standing apart, had just 
 said, " Pardon me, Helen, I must open these notes." 
 She began to talk to Hester about her studies, and 
 was presently struck with the girl's gentle self-pos- 
 session. 
 
 "And was Edward a good teacher?" she in- 
 quired, watching her critically. 
 
 " Surely," thought Hester, quite conscious of be- 
 ing under inspection, "a mother-in-law that is to 
 be is terrible ; " and then, remembering whose 
 mother she was, her pride melted. "But what 
 woman would want to let a girl like me marry such 
 a son as Arty?" And thinking thus, she replied, 
 " Oh, Mrs. Morton, Mr. Edward was the best of 
 teachers ; and who is there like him ? I think him 
 the best of men." 
 
 Wilmington opened his eyes at her, murmured, 
 "Indeed!" and relapsed into what might have 
 seemed slumber to those who did not know his ways. 
 
 " Yes, and life has been hard for him, poor fel- 
 low!" 
 
 " But perhaps that is why he makes it gentler for 
 every one else. I think in the old Round Table 
 days there might have been people like him, but 
 not now." 
 
 Hester had lost her terror in the pleasant task 
 of praising her hero, Edward. 
 
 " You are a wise little woman." It was enough 
 to talk about Edward to satisfy Mrs. Morton, and 
 the girl had been artlessly clever in her speech.
 
 332 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Then Mr. Wilmington woke up. " He is n't 
 worth much compared to Arthur," he said ; " rather 
 a sentimental young man." 
 
 Mrs. Morton laughed. " Oh," she said, gayly, 
 " that hook was not too well baited ! Come and 
 dine with us to-morrow." 
 
 " On one condition," he returned, looking, as 
 Mrs. Westerley afterwards declared, as wicked as 
 the scapegoat ; " and that is that I may have Miss 
 Hester." 
 
 Mrs. Morton was equal to the occasion. " Cer- 
 tainly," she assented, in her most quiet tone, " we 
 shall expect you, Miss Gray." 
 
 " But Hester dines with me," rejoined Mrs. Wes- 
 terley, promptly. 
 
 " Then you will both come," continued Mrs. Mor- 
 ton, with frosty politeness. " At seven, dear." 
 
 " You are very good, Mrs. Morton," Hester re- 
 plied, "but I think I promised to dine here with 
 Mr. Edward and Mr. Arthur Morton." 
 
 " What, all the family ! You will have to endure 
 me quite alone, Mr. Wilmington ; " and then Mrs. 
 Morton felt that somehow the battle was not for 
 her to-day, but she had, nevertheless, a distinct 
 sense of approval of the calmness of her young ad- 
 versary under fire. 
 
 In a little while Mr. Wilmington went away with 
 Hester, and made himself pleasant, as he knew full 
 well how to do, and the two elder women were left 
 alone. 
 
 " I wonder, Alice, that you allow that woman
 
 IN WAR TIME. 333 
 
 Mrs. Grace to speak to you. Edward calls her the 
 ' news fiend.' Is n't that delightfully descriptive ? " 
 
 " My dear, I never cut people now. It is an 
 endless annoyance. You have to be so on your 
 guard not to speak to them. I don't know how it 
 may be with you, but time does betray one so. I 
 want to scalp some woman to-day, and in a year I 
 only care just to pinch her a little, and in another 
 year I am indifferent about her altogether. I think 
 I like that big angel Ned's views. He told me that 
 he quarreled outright with a man once in Texas, 
 and that it was like having measles ; it prevented 
 him from ever quarreling with anybody else." 
 
 " Oh, there is no one like that boy. But he can 
 be angry, I assure you." 
 
 " Of course he can. A man is worth little who 
 cannot." 
 
 " I have always lived with men who were capa- 
 ble enough in that line. And do you, know, dear, 
 that is one of the things I never did like about Dr. 
 Wendell. He seems to be quite unable to get into 
 a good honest rage at anything." 
 V " Perhaps he controls himself." 
 
 " No, the man is too gentle. He has, I think, a 
 well, a sleek disposition." 
 
 " Oh, what an unpleasant phrase, Helen ! " cried 
 her friend, coloring slightly. " I think you are un- 
 fair, and this matter of Arty's has made you irrita- 
 ble, too." 
 
 " Take care," said Mrs. Morton, playfully shak- 
 ing her finger at her friend, "take care! It
 
 334 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 is n't only Mrs. Grace who talks about you. I have 
 always wanted you to marry, and it is very good 
 of me, too, dear, but not Dr. Wendell, Alice. 
 At least marry a gentleman." 
 
 "I think he is one," retorted Alice, angry, and 
 governing herself with difficulty. 
 
 "A kind of one ; not just precisely our kind." 
 
 " And pray, Helen, what are our kind like ? " 
 
 " You know, Alice, quite as well as I do." 
 
 " I don't think I do, or if I do I am tired of our 
 kind. When I mean to marry Dr. Wendell or any 
 one, I will let you know." 
 
 Then Mrs. Morton understood that she had said 
 enough, and made up her mind that her friend 
 would marry Wendell. 
 
 " Well, I am glad that you are not committed in 
 any way." 
 
 "Of that you may rest assured," said Alice. 
 This was hardly true, but she believed that she had 
 a fair right to so construe her present relations. 
 More and more had she felt to-day that she was 
 keeping him and herself in a false position. She 
 was sore, too, from the whips of these idle tongues. 
 Now she would end it all, and do the thing and 
 abide by it, and so put herself where no one could 
 dare to talk thus to her of the man she loved. 
 
 "But, Helen," she added, "what was it you 
 wanted to say to me ? Of course it was n't about 
 this. I think we may drop Dr. Wendell." 
 
 "No, it was quite another matter;" and then 
 she told Alice the story of Miss Ann's visit. " And
 
 IN WAR TIME. 335 
 
 now what do you think of it ? What with these 
 Wendells, and this absurd love affair of Arthur's, 
 and this serio-comic performance of that Yankee 
 old maid, I am what my old nurse used to describe 
 as ' about done out.' " 
 
 Alice winced a little, but, keeping her repeated 
 hurts to herself, she answered, "I don't wonder. 
 But is it so bad, after all ? Let us look at it calmly. 
 I warned you about Hester, and you did nothing." 
 
 " I know," said Mrs. Morton, gravely. 
 
 " And of course you will have to yield." 
 
 " I suppose so," groaned Mrs. Morton, who was 
 what Mrs. Bullock called " low in her mind." 
 
 "And except as to money, what can you say? 
 The girl is pretty, well-mannered, intelligent, sweet- 
 tempered. What more on earth can you want ? " 
 
 Mrs. Morton was too shrewd to talk to Alice as 
 she had done to Edward. " Every one is against 
 me," she said so plaintively that Alice laughed 
 aloud. 
 
 " And every one ought to be against you." 
 
 " Edward wants to give him money to join Col- 
 onel Fox in his iron works," said Mrs. Morton sor- 
 rowfully. 
 
 " Not really ? How hard on you, Helen ! " 
 
 " You are really too outrageous," rejoined the 
 injured lady ; " but it is always so ! I never have 
 my own way." 
 
 Alice smiled. " If Hester had come to you, and 
 said, ' Mr. Morton wants to marry me, and I think 
 I ought not to let him without your consent,' you
 
 336 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 would have kissed her, and said, ' Now that 's the 
 kind of a girl for a daughter ! ' Would n't you, 
 Helen?" 
 
 Mrs. Morton smiled despite herself. "I dare 
 say I should." 
 
 " You always do come right in the end. But I 
 overheard you say to Mr. Wilmington that Ned 
 was not so well. Is it this tragedy of Miss 
 Ann's ? " 
 
 " Partly that, I think ; and I am afraid I have 
 worried him about Arty." 
 
 " The more reason for doing so no longer." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right, Alice. I will talk to 
 Arty." 
 
 " Do, dear. And about the other matter. Miss 
 Wendell, you say, has promised to be silent, and 
 Edward has written, and asked an answer by ca- 
 ble?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then," continued Alice, " you can do no more. 
 Tell Arty you must wait to hear from his father, 
 but of course not a word about the other trouble. 
 In twelve days let me see, that will be about 
 May 14th. We shall hear then, and it will be all 
 cleared up, even to Ann's satisfaction, and you will 
 welcome this dear child to your heart. I wish she 
 were my daughter." 
 
 " I will think of it, dear. How good and patient 
 you are, AJice ! I don't wonder every one loves 
 you." And so the two women cried a little, and 
 kissed one another, and Mrs. Morton went away
 
 72V WAR TIME. 337 
 
 feeling somehow that her burden was lighter, while 
 Alice went up-stairs happy in her victory, and sing- 
 ing like a bird for pure joy. 
 
 By and by she sat down at a table near to the 
 window, and, after a moment's thought, wrote thus 
 to Wendell : 
 
 " I wondered why you had not been here to-day, 
 but now I know it is because you have cases of 
 sinall-pox, Come and see me when you feel it to 
 be safe. Tell Hester to be patient and to wait. I 
 have had a satisfactory talk with Mrs. Morton. As 
 soon as they hear from Colonel Morton everything 
 will come right. I have delayed answering you 
 in form, partly from an indecision which has been 
 as painful to me as to you, as you must know by 
 this time. But now I mean to end it, and if I ask 
 you after this to wait a few days you will not mind 
 it, I am sure. I have had a fancy and you ought 
 to be glad to think that I am yet young enough to 
 have caprices that I would not say, frankly, Yes, 
 until we have heard from Colonel Morton about 
 this other matter. Now I am very truly Alice 
 Westerley; but after that I shall be very truly 
 yours. A. W." 
 
 That she was even yet quite free from indecis- 
 ion cannot be said ; but this was all that was left of 
 it, and she felt happier than she had done for many 
 days. 
 
 Decision is a pleasant inn after a troubled jour- 
 ney that has led us hither and thither. To the 
 wholesome-minded guest it is apt to open wide the
 
 838 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 kindliest hospitalities of hope, where we are served 
 by cheerful fancies and feed on what we wilL 
 
 Having thus ended this matter, Alice looked out 
 over the shrubbery and across the hills and fields ; 
 and everywhere the little riddles of last autumn's 
 thousand seeming deaths were being answered in 
 the swarming life of spring. Birds went busily 
 from bough to bough, with wooings in which there 
 was little indecision. The air was dotted with in- 
 sect life forever on the wing, and over all a bus- 
 tling western wind drove a great flock of clouds 
 across the sky. 
 
 A warm, inquisitive sunshine stirred all creation 
 with throbs of reawakened life, and in the woman's 
 heart also was springtime, and mysterious longings, 
 and growth of sweet feminine hopes, and welcomes 
 for the tender happiness which promised her a 
 larger and yet a truer life in the days to come. 
 Such sense of exaltation to higher levels of exist- 
 ence and its better purposes comes instinctively to 
 those who nobly love. 
 
 As she sat and thought, "Wendell's face came be- 
 fore her, with its prevalent undertone of sadness 
 and its air of scholarly refinement. " Not a gentle- 
 man ! " she murmured, smiling. " Ah, we shall 
 see!"
 
 XXI. 
 
 WENDELL received Alice Westerley's letter with 
 delight which a year before would have been with- 
 out alloy. He loved her very deeply, and in the 
 presence of a passion so profound, the first and the 
 only one of his life, his self -appreciation faded into 
 the most utter humility, and he wondered that he 
 had ever dared to hope ; while at times there arose 
 in his mind an overwhelming feeling of triumph 
 when he thought of what those who had criticised 
 him so freely would say when this became known. 
 To be justified before men socially and in all other 
 ways by the preference of such a woman was suffi- 
 cient return for anything the world of lesser beings 
 might have said or done. 
 
 It was hard to have any drawback, hard indeed ; 
 and he cursed his folly as he thought of being no 
 longer an upright man, clear of shame, worthy of a 
 pure woman's love. It cannot be said that this 
 sense of degradation was altogether the growth of 
 honest hatred of his weakness and sin, nor yet 
 even the healthy reaction from single acts of wrong 
 and a return to the normal despotism of moral hab- 
 its which were good and cleanly. It was rather the 
 fact that he had become accustomed to test himself 
 and his ways, and even his little social habits, by
 
 340 TN WAR TIME. 
 
 the exquisite refinement of purity in Alice, which 
 seemed to envelop him with a charmed atmosphere 
 as his love for her deepened in intensity. It was 
 more by his ideal of her conscience than his own 
 standards that he tried himself, and it was there- 
 fore not enough that he still felt secure against ex- 
 posure ; for there was for him an ever present idea 
 that, come what might, he brought her to a life 
 which, in her eyes, would seem hopelessly defiled. 
 There were hours in these days of waiting when he 
 felt inclined to go away and to write to her that he 
 was a man unworthy of her love and trust. But 
 then the impossibility of inflicting on himself this 
 anguish rose with her smiling face before him, and 
 by an easy effort he put away the impulse. That 
 Ann had begun to guess the secret of his love he 
 well knew, and feeling that he ought now to tell 
 her he would surely have done so had there not 
 been constantly with him this association of his 
 love with the sense of shame. He felt, however, 
 that he must clear himself of the risk of exposure, 
 and then he could speak with less alloy of discom- 
 fort in regard to whatever of terrible the near fu- 
 ture threatened. He would wait. 
 
 His distress was increased, however, by the fact 
 that four days after Alice left, a new and unpleas- 
 ant actor came suddenly upon the stage. Wendell 
 V had heard nothing more from Henry Gray, but as 
 he was daily expecting to do so he had been worry- 
 ing himself sick in his effort to replace the money 
 he had taken. At one time he would have gone to
 
 IN WAR TIME. 341 
 
 Edward for aid, but already much money had been 
 almost forced upon him by that generous friend ; 
 and the doctor's dislike to ask anew was made 
 greater by Edward's present condition, which was 
 one of growing weakness, with rare intervals of en- 
 tire freedom from pain. Here was certainly a still 
 possible resource, but it must be a last one. In his 
 trouble he would have turned even to Mrs. Morton, 
 but he was well aware that he was out of favor at 
 present ; and he had not forgotten that Mrs. Mor- 
 ton had once or twice, out of her affluence of ready 
 advice, given him some quite friendly counsel as to 
 his need to be rather more economical. Where 
 else to go he knew not, and all the refinement of 
 the man's emotional nature protested against any 
 recourse to the purse and kindness of the woman 
 he loved. That for him was impossible. Mean- 
 while, poor Ann worried herself over his haggard 
 face and questioned him in vain. Her conclusion 
 was that his present inclination towards Alice Wes- 
 terley had not been pleasantly returned, and with 
 her regrets there was mingled in Ann's mind some 
 trace of another feeling, which she made haste to 
 put down with all the decision of her loving nature. 
 Her feeling that he was troubled, and also her re- 
 membrance of the ridicule he had cast upon her 
 grave theory of the relation of Colonel Morton to 
 the rebel Gray, combined now to indispose her to 
 discuss with her brother Hester's engagement, or 
 the awful difficulty which she conceived of as for- 
 bidding it. Once or twice when the new alliance
 
 342 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 had been referred to before him, he had either left 
 the room, or in some way shown a displeasure 
 which Ann could not comprehend, and which at 
 times inclined her to suspect that possibly he, too, 
 disapproved of it. 
 
 Wendell was on his way home from the city, af- 
 ter a vain effort to sell his stock and to raise money 
 in impossible ways, when he saw a gentleman stand- 
 ing on the stone steps of his house. The stranger 
 was a man about fifty-five, and was dressed in a 
 closely buttoned black morning coat, neat check 
 pantaloons, and a well-brushed hat that was Picca- 
 dilly all over, and wore a rose in his button-hole. 
 The figure was such as one sees in Bond Street by 
 hundreds of a morning, except that the feet were 
 small, the boots delicate and thin as a girl's, and 
 that their owner carried a large, shining cane with 
 a huge gold head. Wendell, who noticed faces as 
 doctors learn to do, observed only that the clean- 
 shaven, sallow features were rather strong and 
 gaunt, and that the stranger wore his straight dark 
 hair so long as to excite attention. The incongrui- 
 ties of dress of course escaped Wendell's observa- 
 tion. The moment the stranger addressed him the 
 doctor knew who he was. 
 
 " Pardon me," said the gentleman, seeing Wen- 
 dell take out his pass-key, " are you not Dr. Wen- 
 dell?" 
 
 " Yes, I am Dr. Wendell." 
 
 " My name is Henry Gray. I should apologize 
 because I have not written, but now I am here in
 
 IN WAR TIME. 343 
 
 person, which saves explanations. Permit me sir, 
 before I enter your house, to thank you for your 
 long and great kindness to my young relative." 
 
 He spoke with a little old-fashioned sense of say- 
 ing a fine thing, and there were unexpected inflec- 
 tions in his speech. Also his final r's were softened 
 into broad a's, but the voice was pleasant and the 
 tones were refined. 
 
 " You will think us well rewarded when you see 
 Hester. Come in. You are very welcome." 
 
 Henry Gray followed his host into the large, low- 
 ceiled room, and sat down while Wendell went in 
 search of Ann and Hester. 
 
 Ann was, as she said, awfully flurried, and to 
 Hester's amusement insisted on her changing her 
 gown. But Ann was a wise woman in her way ; 
 she knew the value of first impressions, and was not 
 without a just pride in the maiden to whom she 
 had given a home. As she hastily arranged the 
 girl's dress, the thought went through Ann's mind 
 that if she proved to be right about the grave mat- 
 ter recently in dispute, here assuredly was an ally 
 who would see things as they should be seen. She 
 was therefore glad to welcome the new arrival. 
 
 Houses and rooms, Mr. Gray took small note of. 
 He had lived in camps and ranches, and slept on 
 the plains, or housed himself in the tepe of the In- 
 dian ; but to him, as to most of those who have 
 dwelt much in wild border lands, there had come a 
 habit of scanning faces closely ; for in such semi- 
 barbarous existences the features lose the diplomatic
 
 344 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 masks of guarded social life, and to look sharply 
 at a stranger is a needed safeguard for those who 
 mean to illustrate the survival of the fittest. The 
 Cape Cod spinster, in her simple serge dress, with 
 no gay colors save those in her clear eyes and ruddy 
 cheeks, seemed to him a curious personage. He 
 began to wonder what kind of a lady she must have 
 made of his young kinswoman. Certainly the 
 Carolina gentleman, with his personal belief in the 
 Grays, his patriotism limited by state boundaries, 
 and his after years of turbulent border life, was a 
 not less new and amazing type to Ann Wendell, 
 who was now looking with a double interest at one 
 who might be Hester's future guardian. 
 
 Ann came in, with her usual quick movement. 
 
 " I am glad to see you, very glad," she said 
 with unusual warmth ; " and Hester will be down 
 in a minute." 
 
 Mr. Gray took Ann's proffered hand, and bend- 
 ing over it spoke with a sort of stately courtesy, 
 the secret of which is almost lost to the present 
 generation. 
 
 " I have mentioned but with too much brevity 
 
 to your brother how greatly I feel your consider, 
 ate kindness to my cousin. Allow me to thank 
 you also. We have been fortunate, Miss Wendell, 
 
 fortunate." 
 
 " It has pleased God in his goodness to give us 
 a pleasant duty," replied Ann, " and I trust that 
 our stewardship may be found in his eyes to have 
 been wise."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 345 
 
 " By all means yes quite so. Your obser- 
 vations appear to me to be grounded on justice," 
 said Gray ; " I have no doubt that I shall find my 
 fair relative all that I might desire." 
 
 " I trust so," returned Ann. " Hester is a good 
 girl, and as a rule acceptable to her elders, and, as 
 far as I have been able to teach her, a good house- 
 wife. But here she is, to speak for herself ! " 
 
 " Upon my soul," exclaimed her cousin, going 
 forward with both hands extended, " a Champney 
 from head to feet ! " 
 
 Then he kissed her quite formally on the fore- 
 head, as she said, 
 
 " You have given us a great surprise, sir. But 
 when did you arrive ? I think you are very, very 
 kind to come to see me." 
 
 " Bless me, my dear," he returned, " I think if 
 I had known what I was to see, I should have come 
 before ! It is astonishing how you favor the 
 Champneys. You don't remember Elinor Champ- 
 ney, I suppose ? " 
 
 " No," replied Hester, embarrassed by his undis- 
 guised admiration, " I cannot say I do. Was she 
 very plain, sir ? " she added, slyly. 
 
 " Plain ! A woman, my dear, men fought about. 
 There was poor Tom Manley but, dear me, that 
 was ages ago ! How old are you, Hester ? " 
 
 " Almost eighteen." 
 
 "Well, well, what awful mile-stones you chil- 
 dren are ! " 
 
 Then Wendell rose. "We will leave you to
 
 346 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 your cousin, Hester," he remarked ; " you must 
 have a world of things to say," and so went out 
 with Ann. 
 
 " And you and I, Hester," said Mr. Gray, " are 
 all that are left of the good old stock." 
 
 " And have I really no relation but you ? " re- 
 turned Hester, with an odd sense of being socially 
 shipwrecked. 
 
 " Not one, iny dear child, not one ! The last, I 
 reckon, was Jack Champney. You know he was 
 your fourth cousin, once removed, no, I should 
 say twice removed, and he was killed by those 
 damned Yankees. Excuse me, but the two words 
 come together so naturally ! Shot at Shiloh. He 
 commanded a division, and I have heard it said 
 that if he had not been killed we should have ex- 
 terminated Grant's army." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " murmured Hester, endeavoring 
 to get up a little affectionate grief for the cousin 
 once, twice, but now permanently, removed. 
 
 " There was Archie Gray," continued her cousin, 
 reflectively. " I forgot him ; but most generally 
 people did forget Archie. He moved up into North 
 Carolina, and set all his slaves free, and just went 
 down in the world. Was n't much above a cracker 
 at last." 
 
 Hester somehow felt a larger interest in this de- 
 graded scion of her race. 
 
 " Cracker ? " she queried. 
 
 " Cracker, my dear, is a sort of no-account white 
 man ; mostly North Carolina folk."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 347 
 
 " Was he any nearer to me, Mr. Gray ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " Cousin Henry," he replied, " or cousin Harry, 
 if you please, child. Stick to the good old Carolina 
 way of standing by your own people. But, your 
 pardon, you asked " 
 
 " Yes, I asked if he were any nearer relation ; 
 and is he dead, too ? It seems so strange to me, 
 cousin, to be just all alone in the world. I knew 
 I must be, but to be told so brings it home to me." 
 
 " There is one man your devoted servant," re- 
 turned Gray, with a courtier-like tone in his voice, 
 as he surveyed with appreciative eye the cleanly 
 cut nose and proudly carried head above the sloped 
 shoulders. 
 
 Hester felt like making one of Mrs. Morton's 
 room-occupying courtesies, but she only said, with 
 a mental note for Arty's amusement, 
 
 " I never can forget your kindness. How could 
 I, indeed ? " And then, as it seemed right to par- 
 take of his interest in their family, she added, 
 " This Alexander Gray, you were saying " 
 
 " Archie, my dear, Archibald ; a family name. 
 Your great-grandfather was Archibald, and this 
 was his second son Archibald's third son ; all the 
 rest dead, you know." 
 
 " And he is dead, too ? " said Hester, still curi- 
 ous. 
 
 " Yes, he is dead ; " and then he continued with 
 some reluctance, " A poor devil. Married a Yan- 
 kee school-mistress. When the war broke out he
 
 348 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 entered the Union army. I did hear he raised a 
 nigger regiment, and was in tHat business at Fort 
 Pillow." 
 
 " And was he killed ? " asked Hester. 
 
 " Well, he has n't been heard of since. I under- 
 stood that he was killed. A a I beg pardon, 
 a good riddance. Had too much of that Compton 
 blood. You know those Edisto Comptons? No- 
 account folks. Don't you ever marry a Yankee, 
 cousin Hester." 
 
 Hester colored. " You forget, cousin," she said, 
 " that I might have starved if it had not been for 
 my Yankee friends. In fact, I fear you will think 
 me only a lukewarm Southerner. I have tried to 
 be as quiet as I could about the war. I do not yet 
 understand why it came, or why, as they say, it had 
 to come ; but it has cost me my father, and given 
 me the love and help of my friends here, and yours 
 too, and and everything, you know," she 
 added, disconnectedly, remembering with a full 
 heart that her misfortunes had not been without 
 pleasant palliatives. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I understand," he returned ; " excel- 
 lent people, I should say. I shall not forget them. 
 But I suppose the name went for something." 
 
 " My dear cousin ! " exclaimed Hester, much 
 amused, " nobody here knows anything about us, 
 except Mrs. Morton." 
 
 "Oh!" said he, "I don't consider that can be 
 quite correct. We were here very often in old 
 times. However, time makes sad changes. And
 
 IN WAR TIME. 349 
 
 Mr. Morton, is he at home? A very elegant 
 gentleman, my dear; for a Northern man, quite 
 remarkably so." 
 
 " He is still in Europe," replied Hester. 
 
 " And his family ? I must do myself the honor 
 of a call." 
 
 " They too have been good friends of mine," said 
 Hester. 
 
 " Then the more reason for me to thank them," 
 returned Mr. Gray. "I go to Baltimore to-morrow, 
 but next week I shall return here, and then I must 
 go South. A sad visit, Hester. But it is folly to 
 lament, and you must try, my dear, to look forward 
 with hope. When next this country has a foreign 
 war, we shall try it over, and I hope with better 
 fortune. Just now the foot of the North is on us, 
 and they have another Poland to govern." 
 
 This was all rather perplexing to Hester, who 
 had divided allegiances, and with whom Arthur's 
 opinions had considerable force. 
 
 "It is sad enough. I trust we shall have no 
 more wars. Arthur Mr. Arthur Morton says 
 that this way of manufacturing history is disagree- 
 able." 
 
 " Arthur ? " he said, suspiciously. " Who is Ar- 
 thur? Oh, Arthur Morton, is it? I think I saw 
 him in England. Quite an unpleasant young per- 
 son. Not so well bred as his father. Left the 
 table because I said Mr. Adams was a a 
 Yankee ; you can supply the adjective. I perceive 
 you will keep me in order ! "
 
 350 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 This was rather too much for Hester. " I meant 
 to write to you, but it was not quite settled ; and I 
 think I ought to say that I have promised to marry 
 Mr. Arthur Morton, Captain Morton he is now." 
 
 Mr. Gray stood up, with a look of amazement on 
 his face. " And you a woman of our crushed and 
 bleeding Carolina ! You have so far forgotten 
 your home, and your blood, and your dead father ? 
 You, the last of the Grays ! Hester, Hester ! And 
 a Yankee officer, too! I thought we were low 
 enough before ! " 
 
 The girl rose also, and stood grasping a chair- 
 back. The quick blood of a masterful race was in 
 her face, and the blue iris, dilating, darkened 
 around the central depth it bounded. " I owe you 
 much," she said hastily, " more than I ever can 
 repay ; but you would respect me little if I were to 
 let you, or any one, say such things as this to me. 
 No obligation can make it right for me to hear such 
 words about the man I love. I think if you had 
 reflected a moment you would not have said them, 
 never ! " 
 
 Gray cared little for the wrath of men. He was 
 always, as he said calmly, " personally responsible, 
 sir." But the anger of a woman was, as it is to all 
 chivalrous men, difficult to deal with; and then 
 Hester was so splendidly handsome in her wrath. 
 It cooled his own rage a little ; but he was an ob- 
 stinate man, used to having his way. 
 
 "Oh, child," he said, assuming the quiet tone 
 of an elder person, "you have not yet seen your
 
 IN WAR TIME. 351 
 
 ruined home ; you have not yet seen where Sher- 
 man's bandits cut down your old oaks, and made 
 targets of your ancestors' pictures ! Oh, Hester, 
 our desolated South wait, wait till you see it ! " 
 
 Somehow this business of her ancestors' portraits, 
 as to which Gray felt a fierce resentment, struck 
 Hester as a small part of so large a calamity as the 
 war. 
 
 " I may have lost a home," she replied, " but I 
 have also found one ; and war war is all wicked, 
 and there is no good in it. There may be cause 
 for you, a man, a Southern man, to feel bitterly ; 
 but you cannot expect that, situated as I have been, 
 befriended as I have been, I should share your feel- 
 ings." 
 
 " Then you should be ashamed to confess it ! " 
 he cried, with momentary anger, yet still wonder- 
 ing as he saw how her features responded to the 
 thoughts she uttered, while her strong, erect form 
 carried unstirred the changing passion of her face. 
 It was like a fair young tree, whose leaves tremble, 
 shaken by the wrath of stormy winds, while the 
 trunk scarce sways, held firmly by its anchoring 
 roots. 
 
 " Ashamed ! " she repeated, with a smile ; " and 
 you talk to me about the pictures of my dead an- 
 cestors ! I dare say I shall be proud enough of my 
 people when I come to know more about them ; but 
 there is something nearer to me now, and you have 
 dared to ask me to be ashamed of that ! " Her 
 heart swelled beneath the wild unrest of her bosom
 
 352 /2V WAR TIME. 
 
 as she thought of Edward and of the life and love 
 Arthur had laid at the feet of an orphan girl, a 
 stranger in a strange and hostile land. Cry she 
 would not. 
 
 " I have no personal objection to Mr. Morton," 
 said Gray, a little embarrassed. 
 
 "Nor have I," returned Hester, scornfully. 
 
 " But how you," he said, " a woman of the South, 
 can bend " 
 
 " Stop ! " she exclaimed. " I repeat what I said. 
 You have no right to use your relationship and my 
 obligations to enable you to insult me. And I will 
 not bear it. I will not bear it from you, or from 
 any one ! " 
 
 " Good gracious ! " said Gray, sitting down sud- 
 denly. " There is no doubt of what your breed is ! 
 I think Mr. Morton will have his hands full." 
 
 "Very likely; but at least he knows how to re- 
 spect brave men who could risk their lives for their 
 beliefs." 
 
 This was a little unpleasant to Gray, who had 
 been abroad on Confederate business during the 
 war, and who had a slight sense of having fallen 
 below his own standard, because he had not fol- 
 lowed his flag into battle. He looked keenly at 
 Hester, and became convinced at once that she 
 had meant no personal slight, which was true. 
 
 "Won't you sit down ? " he asked. 
 
 " No. I prefer to stand," she replied. 
 
 " But you will oblige me by sitting down." She 
 seated herself.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 353 
 
 " Cousin Hester," he said, " I have hurt you. 
 But you must not forget how natural it is for me to 
 feel as I do." 
 
 "Of course," answered Hester, who was easily 
 softened, " I know that ; but there are things 
 dearer than home or country, and if I have spoken 
 too strongly, you should remember that I am here 
 a waif, an orphan, a dependent, and that that 
 oh, it is not just like any every-day matter ; it is 
 not just like any girl's love affair. I " She could 
 not go on. There rose up within her consciousness 
 a sense of what her lover was to her ; how consider- 
 ate he had been, how tender ; how in this warmth 
 of love he had known how to evolve and ripen all 
 that was best in her. The thought of it brought 
 the color to her cheeks, and the anger went out 
 of her eyes, over which the lids drooped in tender 
 concealment. It was a moment when more than 
 ever before the strength of her love became clear 
 to her. As white light turned by the prism's plane 
 breaks into unimagined color, the simpleness of 
 maidenhood flashed into the passion and hopes and 
 multiple emotionalities of one whom Love has bap- 
 tized a woman. 
 
 She could not trust herself in speech. Henry 
 Gray observed her keenly. He was beginning to 
 see the power and tenacity of Hester's nature. 
 
 " And do you really love this young fellow so 
 much? " 
 
 Hester opened her wide eyes in pure reproach 
 for answer.
 
 354 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " Yes," she said, after a moment. Just then a 
 laughing face appeared in the doorway. 
 
 " Oh, Arthur Mr. Morton ! " exclaimed Hes- 
 ter, hastily setting her moral house in order. " My 
 cousin, Mr. Henry Gray ; Mr. Arthur Morton, 
 cousin." 
 
 The two men shook hands, and began to talk 
 about indifferent matters, carefully avoiding the 
 topics which were still very bitter in men's mouths. 
 Arthur had come to see Hester, and after a few 
 moments of this strained conversation felt that Mr. 
 Gray ought to go ; but such was not the latter's 
 intention, and he sat calmly chatting, resolved to 
 have yet further speech alone with Hester. Then 
 he tried the little social stratagem of silence ; but 
 this failed, with so joyous and ready a tongue as 
 Arthur's, till at last Mr. Gray rose, and saying to 
 Hester, " I will see you next week ; we have still 
 much to talk about," bowed over her hand, said a 
 cool good-morning to Arthur, and left the room. 
 
 Then Hester said, " I have told him, Arty." 
 
 "Oh, have you? What a plucky little woman! 
 Wait a moment, I ought to say something to him 
 myself ; " and leaving her in spite of her protest, 
 as she somewhat dreaded what might come of the 
 interview, he overtook Mr. Gray. 
 
 " Let me show you the way to the station." 
 
 " Oh, thank you," returned Gray. 
 
 " Miss Gray has told you," said Arthur, " of oui 
 engagement. I owe you an appearance of need for 
 apology, as you are her sole relative; but my
 
 7^- WAR TIME. 355 
 
 mother, who does not disapprove, is unwilling that 
 we should be publicly engaged until my father is 
 heard from. Of course he cannot be anything but 
 pleased, and I had meant to write to you as soon 
 as we received his answer." 
 
 Gray failed for a moment to reply. 
 
 " I hope I make myself clear," added Arthur. 
 
 " Perfectly," said Gray. " I perceive, sir, you 
 have correct ideas. I perceive it, sir, with satisfac- 
 tion." 
 
 "And I may presume," continued Arty, who, 
 save for Hester's position and feelings, was blandly 
 indifferent as to what Mr. Gray thought, "I 
 may presume," and he put on his finest manner, 
 " that I have your approval ? " 
 
 " To consider the matter with our Southern 
 frankness," returned Gray, " I do not like it. I 
 do not desire Hester to marry at all as yet ; and 
 you will pardon me if I say that it could not natu- 
 rally be agreeable to me that she should marry a 
 Northern man, or an officer of your army." 
 
 Arthur's inward reply was other than his speech ; 
 what he said was, " I dare say not ; " and then he 
 added, with a keen sense of the fun of it, " My 
 father may have like objections. It did not occur 
 to me before." 
 
 Gray saw well enough that he was being mildly 
 chaffed. He did not relish it, and was unwise 
 enough to reply. 
 
 " If your father's son, Mr. Morton, is as set in 
 his ways as my cousin's daughter, the form of ask- 
 ing might very well be dispensed with."
 
 356 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " There are some things," Arthur answered 1 
 " which we do as mere ceremonies ; but on my 
 honor, if I had supposed I should be talked to af- 
 ter this fashion, neither your years nor Hester her- 
 self would have made me go even so far as the 
 ceremony of asking." 
 
 Halting suddenly, Gray turned on him. " Mr. 
 Morton, you are a young man, and I am well on in 
 life. We can't quarrel like men, and when that 
 decent course is impossible there is no use in scold- 
 ing one another. A word more. You have won, 
 and we have lost. Make some allowance for sore 
 bones, sir! There is my hand, you shall hear 
 no more of this matter from me ; and by George, 
 sir, I am glad you are a soldier. I said something 
 foolish about that, I believe, but I did n't mean it." 
 
 Arthur shook his hand warmly. 
 
 "I dare say I have need to apologize, myself," 
 he declared. " Thank you. But here is your train. 
 Hester will be pleased, I am sure." 
 
 Mr. Gray took off his hat, while Arthur touched 
 his in soldier fashion, and then, seized by the con- 
 tagion of Gray's ceremoniousness, made a salute as 
 bountiful as that of the Southern gentleman, and 
 went his way back to Hester, to condole with her 
 over the pictures of her ancestors. 
 
 The interview was probably satisfactory, as Ar- 
 thur was able to tell her that his mother had been 
 very nice to him, and hoped it would all be well 
 when the colonel was heard from, and also that 
 Ned had sent his love. It was now Thursday, and
 
 IN WAR TIME. 357 
 
 by the next Thursday they would be sure to hear, 
 because his father was to telegraph. 
 
 Meanwhile Ann Wendell was greatly dissatisfied 
 with herself. The effect left upon her mind by the 
 dying delirium of Hester's father had been pro- 
 found, and Hester's engagement was to her as if a 
 ghost had risen from the grave to chide her failure 
 to perform a manifest duty, which she knew she 
 had put aside, awaiting the hour when Hester 
 should be old enough to hear so terrible a tale. It 
 is impossible to estimate the force with which such 
 grim events impress themselves on people of simple 
 lives and limited range of experience. They are 
 recalled as men recall their first sensation of the 
 terrors of an earthquake. It was true that Dr. 
 Lagrange and Ezra had smiled at it all ; but they 
 were both friends of the Mortons, and Ann knew 
 but too well Ezra's tendency to put aside unpleas- 
 ant ideas, and that of course he would dislike to 
 offend Mrs. Westerley. All this seemed clear; 
 but to whom should she go in her deep and serious 
 distress of mind ? She had rashly promised not to 
 speak to Hester, not, at least, until she had 
 heard what Colonel Morton would say ; and if he 
 too were again to pronounce what seemed to her so 
 grave as but the dream of a dying man, what then ? 
 She had said it would satisfy her ; but would it, or 
 should it ? Was not Hester the only competent 
 judge? Had not she a right to hear this story? 
 In vain the troubled and straightforward woman 
 tried to see it as Edward saw it. Even if Hester's
 
 358 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 father had been, through pure accident, shot by a 
 certain man, could Hester rightfully marry that 
 man's son ? In her worry Ann became singularly 
 perplexed as to what was wrong and what right, 
 grieving vainly over her promise of secrecy, until 
 suddenly it came to her that this promise was lim- 
 ited to Hester. There was Mr. Gray, of whom 
 already she had thought as an adviser, of all per- 
 sons the one on whose shoulders she could put her 
 care, and rest content that it was where it should 
 be. He should promise not to speak of it to Hester 
 until they heard from Mr. Morton. The more she 
 thought this over the clearer it seemed ; for now, 
 in Lagrange's silence, and she had twice written 
 to him, it appeared to be her only resource, and 
 something she felt sure she must do. 
 
 Hester had told her that Mr. Gray would call 
 the next Friday afternoon, on his way to Newport, 
 where he had landed property, which had been 
 transferred to a Northern friend for security dur- 
 ing the war. Meantime, he was to be moving 
 about, and letters were uncertain ; so that, much 
 annoyed at the delay, Ann finally resolved to await 
 the chance of a personal interview, and, having 
 settled this, sought to put the whole matter aside 
 for the time.
 
 XXII. 
 
 THURSDAY was the earliest date at which Ed- 
 ward, who was now constantly in bed, could look 
 for a reply by cable, and he was becoming anxious, 
 despite his own convictions. On Thursday after- 
 noon he sent for Dr. Wendell. The doctor found 
 him looking badly, and sat by his bedside a long 
 while ; liking to talk with him, and having it over 
 and over again on his lips to mention that he him- 
 self was in debt, and needed large help. It seemed 
 hard to do just then, and he decided that he would 
 wait. Mr. Gray had spoken no word, and given 
 him no chance to say anything of their business 
 matters, and so he had yet a little time. 
 
 " Does my disease," asked Edward, " make you 
 fear any sudden result ? I mean, am I within the 
 risk of dying suddenly ? I have long meant to ask 
 you." 
 
 " No. I do not think you are. The condition 
 you are now in is common in these troubles, and 
 will pass away. You may even be better than be- 
 fore." 
 
 " I am glad of that, for mother's sake. How 
 strange it is that as life gets less and less worth 
 having we should cling to it the more ! I suppose 
 this fierce clutch at what little is left of existence is
 
 360 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 really a feature of some diseases more than of oth- 
 ers." 
 
 " Yes, it is so, I think," said Wendell. 
 
 " Well, for what has given to my life of late 
 such sweetness as it has, I have to thank you, doc- 
 tor. You see even now I can read." His bed was 
 littered with books and scientific journals. " Do 
 you remember giving me this little Marcus Aure- 
 lius? See how I have marked it! I sometimes 
 wonder if in another world I shall be able to thank 
 that grand heathen. Between pains, this morning, 
 I have been worrying through Heine's Philosophy 
 and Religion. It 's hard reading, I can tell you, 
 and I have done nothing but look in the dictionary 
 at every second line. It seems to me that Heine 
 must have suffered a good deal as I do, and that 
 has given me a more personal interest in what he 
 wrote. But it is painful to see how his opinions 
 shifted. Could n't you take it home and make out 
 these three passages I have marked ? I can't clear 
 them up." 
 
 " I will try. I think I see your difficulty," an- 
 swered Wendell, who read German well. " But I 
 must go. When will you hear from the colonel ? " 
 
 He was unaware of all that this telegram was to 
 answer, as they had agreed that it was best to say 
 nothing about the matter, and Alice, who very 
 likely would have discussed it with him, was still 
 away. 
 
 "We must hear to-morrow," replied Edward. 
 " And by the way," he added, smiling, for he had
 
 /AT WAR TIME. 361 
 
 for some time back suspected what was Alice's rela- 
 tion to Wendell, " by the way, you will find our 
 friend Mrs. Westerley here to-morrow afternoon. 
 Don't fail to see me, please." 
 
 Then Wendell rose. 
 
 " One moment," said the sick man. " I have 
 several times meant to ask you not to worry about 
 our little debts, and to say also that when I am 
 better I would like to talk to you about your money 
 matters. I have a notion, from what Miss Ann let 
 fall last week, that perhaps you need a little lift. 
 It is a mere guess, but if I am right I trust that 
 you will say so." 
 
 " It is only too true," assented Wendell, a great 
 hope leaping up within him. "I have been very 
 unfortunate in several ways." 
 
 " That is enough for me to know. Let us talk 
 it all over to-morrow ; but, by the way, give me 
 some idea of what you need ; how much, I mean, 
 and don't hesitate about it, please." 
 
 " I scarcely dare to say how much. People don't 
 pay my bills, and I well, in fact, our little invest- 
 ments have all gone wrong, and " 
 
 " Oh, but how much will set you fairly afoot, my 
 dear doctor ? " 
 V " If I could borrow five thousand dollars " 
 
 " If you could ? You shall. Why not have told 
 me before ? Cannot you see that it is a great hap- 
 piness to feel that I can help one who has so amply 
 helped me ? I shall be paying a debt, not making 
 one. No mere money could pay what is due from
 
 362 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 me to you ; just remember that, doctor, when we 
 come to foot up our relative claims." 
 
 " 1 do not know how to thank you. You little 
 know what it is you are doing for me. It is an in- 
 estimable obligation. I have been so wretched 
 about my debts, and altogether " 
 
 " Well, let us drop it now. You will hurt me if 
 you make so much of it. What is money after all ? 
 Now, if it could buy me escape from pain for a 
 month or hire new legs " 
 
 " Even if all you say be true, I too have been 
 helped in turn, and I can never forget that what- 
 ever has been my fortune as a doctor in this place, 
 you and yours have always stood by me." 
 
 " And with reason," exclaimed Edward. " We 
 all of us owe you much, but my own little debts to 
 you, doctor, are debts of the spirit, not to be 
 counted ; as Arty says, like the gold in the cloud 
 banks of sunset." 
 
 " I don't think I deserve much praise for it," re- 
 turned Wendell, smiling ; " it was certainly for the 
 most part unconscious benevolence, if that can be 
 called benevolence at all." 
 
 " I rather fancy," said Ned, who was not to be 
 talked out of his sense of gratitude, "I rather 
 fancy that what you call ' unconscious benevolence ' 
 is merely the outcome of habits of doing kind and 
 fitting things. I can see that it must be a part of 
 a physician's life to think of how he can teach the 
 sick I mean the crippled sick to fill up the 
 gaps which disease has made in their means of hap-
 
 IN WAR TIME. 868 
 
 "Yes ; it maybe so," remarked Wendell thought- 
 fully. He felt that perhaps he had not considered 
 enough this side of his duties, except when, as in 
 Ned's case, the patient had interested him. He 
 was impressed now, as Edward talked on, with the 
 manner in which by degrees the man of action had 
 become the man of thought, as the shadows of pain 
 and bodily disability had gathered about him ; and 
 the idea passed through Wendell's mind that it was 
 like the thoughtf ulness which comes at dusk of day, 
 when the body is wearied, and the light which 
 tempts to active ways is spent. " Yes, it may be 
 so," he repeated. " I am afraid we do not always 
 keep ourselves enough alive to the chances of such 
 helpfulness." 
 
 " That may very well be ; but the calls made 
 upon a man by your work are so various that I can 
 well imagine how hard it must be to give them all 
 their just share of attention." 
 
 " You are right," returned Wendell, all of whose 
 better nature was getting food for reflection out of 
 i/ the young man's sick-bed meditations. " A doc- 
 tor's life has in it, however, a good deal to harm 
 his moral growth, and needs watching. It is diffi- 
 cult not to become despotic from mere habit of con- 
 trol, and still harder to be tender and yet decided, 
 and to keep good tempered amidst the unreasona- 
 bleness of patients and their friends." 
 \/ He was half consciously becoming morally auto- 
 biographic. 
 
 " I suppose," said Edward, " a doctor ought to
 
 864 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 be all of a man with the best of a woman. I think 
 / I should like to be a physician. The human nature 
 he sees in its nakedness must be interesting, and a 
 man who walks among the tragedies of life must 
 have noble chances to help and guide and set folks 
 right. You know, don't you, the Eastern proverb, 
 'Where the earthquake has been the best grain 
 grows ' ? " 
 
 " No, I never heard it. It 's good, though, is n't 
 it ? But you have cheated me into overstaying my 
 time, and I must go/' 
 
 " Well, good-by. I think I feel better for our 
 chat. Don't forget the medicine you said you would 
 send, I hope it will quiet my unruly heart ; and 
 don't come till the afternoon. You have always 
 more time to talk then." 
 
 Ann Wendell's nature made her deal temper- 
 ately with the lesser problems of moral life, but 
 sense of wrong or injustice, or the presence of a 
 distinctly neglected duty, disturbed her painfully. 
 When once she was sure of what ought to be done, 
 and when sure, she was as a rule apt to be very 
 sure, she became uneasy until she had seized on 
 that duty, and justified herself by shaking it into 
 a state of incapacity to excite her further, much as 
 a quiet terrier will suddenly awaken to the presence 
 of a rat, and with instinctive abruptness of energy 
 destroy its power to disturb him. Such outbreaks 
 of activity antagonistic to the habits of a life baffle 
 the student of human nature because of their ex-
 
 IN WAR TIME. 365 
 
 ceptional rarity. We see this illustrated danger- 
 ously in animal life by the sudden stroke of the 
 sluggish serpent, and, as concerns man, in the occa- 
 sional rashness of the timid, the queer lapses of the 
 methodical, or the strange self-committals of the 
 naturally cautious and diplomatic. 
 
 Ann had reached such a crisis, and nothing but 
 competent action would satisfy her. She would 
 certainly have her talk with Mr. Gray, and at 
 once ; but there came to her now the suspicion that 
 she might feel easier, and better able to face Mrs. 
 Morton's anger, if she were to remind that lady 
 beforehand that the pledge of secrecy applied only 
 to Hester, and to tell her that she thought it an 
 urgent duty to put the responsibility of an ultimate 
 decision upon Hester's nearest relative. Ann would 
 have been wiser had she spoken rather than writ- 
 ten ; but she dreaded the possibility of being talked 
 out of the course she had laid down for herself, 
 and, to leave no chance of a reply, wrote and dis- 
 patched her note about four o'clock, and sending 
 Hester to the city on an errand, told her that she 
 herself desired to talk to Mr. Gray alone, and 
 would detain him until Hester's return. Then, 
 feeling that she had thus cleared her path, she sat 
 down and awaited Mr. Gray's arrival, which she 
 counted upon, as he had telegraphed Hester in the 
 morning that he would be with her about five or 
 six o'clock. 
 
 Meanwhile, Wendell went out, telling his sister 
 that he might return late. He was doing some
 
 366 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 work for a doctor near by, who, being absent, had 
 left him his carriage. He visited a patient on the 
 way, and then drove rapidly over to the Mortons', 
 full of hope and relief, and thinking as he went 
 along of Alice Westerley. Edward's words had 
 raised him into one of the moods of elation which 
 had been rare or absent of late, and he drove 
 through the lanes making thankful and honest res- 
 olutions for the happy future which opened before 
 him. In his pleasant abstraction he passed Ann's 
 messenger, a little lad who did their errands, and 
 presently, leaving his carriage at the stable, walked 
 up to the house. On the porch he saw Alice Wes- 
 terley alone. 
 
 "Sit down here a moment," she said. "Mrs. 
 Morton is with Ned, and Arty is writing letters. I 
 cannot tell how glad I am to see you. You look 
 better." 
 
 "Oh, do I? Gladness is a good physician. 
 Alice, my Alice, you will not keep me longer in 
 this horrible suspense ? I have sometimes thought, 
 this past week, that you could not care for me as I 
 care for you. Why should you delay so long, and 
 why should I still have to wait until it pleases 
 Colonel Morton to write a telegram? What on 
 earth have we to do with him ? " 
 
 " Some day, soon, I will tell you why," she re- 
 plied. "I have been unhappy about Hester. If 
 you had been with me I should have had to tell 
 you, but now Do you know what that is ? " and, 
 laughing, she held up a telegram envelope.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 367 
 
 "Oh, Alice!" he exclaimed. "And is it all 
 right about Hester ? " 
 
 " Yes," she returned, " it is all right. The colone] 
 has said it is to be as Helen wishes. She has the 
 telegram. But you are very nice to think first of 
 Hester." 
 
 " And now, Alice " 
 
 " Well ? " she said, demurely. 
 
 "Your hesitations are over." 
 
 " They are over for life." 
 
 " My God ! " he whispered. He felt like a slave 
 who has found a jewel in his path, and trembled 
 with the sense of a possession beyond even the 
 dreams of love's sweet avarice. She realized at 
 once, with her quick sympathies, the man's intensity 
 of happiness, and looked up at him shyly, with 
 watchful joy. 
 
 " I am going to walk home," she said. " Helen 
 thinks I have gone, but I waited for you. I will 
 go slowly, so that you can overtake me easily. 
 Don't be long." 
 
 He looked at her, and then glanced about him. 
 She turned quickly to go, but he caught her as she 
 moved, and kissed her passionately. 
 
 " Oh, Ezra ! " she cried, in alarm. " How could 
 you ! " 
 
 " I could not help it," he answered. " Ah, now 
 I know you are mine ! You will pardon me." 
 
 " If, if," she said, smiling and red, " you will 
 never, never do it again? " 
 
 " Never," he replied, and went into the house.
 
 368 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 While this little matter was being thus arranged 
 on the porch, Mrs. Morton was seated by her son's 
 bedside. The telegram for which Edward had 
 eagerly waited had come, and for the second time 
 he was reading it aloud, when Arthur suddenly 
 walked into his chamber. " What 's that, Ned ? " 
 he asked. " The answer from father ? " 
 
 Mrs. Morton had meant that he should know 
 only the general tenor of the dispatch until Ann 
 had been seen, and the whole matter deprived of 
 its mischievous possibilities. But fate had over- 
 ruled her, and her son had heard enough to make 
 it necessary that he should hear the whole. There 
 was no help for it now, and she quickly cast about 
 her for aid as she gave him the paper. 
 
 "That's droll," said Arthur, reading it aloud. 
 " What does my father mean ? He says, ' It is ab- 
 surd. Use your own judgment. See letter.' What 
 does he mean by ' absurd ' and all that ? " 
 
 " It refers," returned Mrs. Morton, " to another 
 question, which does not altogether concern you. 
 The latter part does. Are you not satisfied, my 
 son?" 
 
 Edward looked up. He hated indirectness, but 
 he was silent. 
 
 "Oh, thank you, mother," said Arthur, rising. 
 " And you will love her, too, mother, and you will 
 feel satisfied, won't you?" 
 
 "I always did love her, but" 
 
 " Oh, don't spoil it, mother," begged Ned. 
 
 "My son's wife will be my daughter," she an-
 
 72V WAR TIME. 369 
 
 swered, and then she kissed Arthur. "I will go 
 over to see Hester to-night, and now I must send 
 this to Ann Wendell." So she wrote a little note 
 of caution to Ann, and gave it, with the inclosed 
 telegram, to Arthur, that he might send his happy 
 news to Hester Gray. Then Mrs. Morton rose 
 from the bedside. 
 
 " Don't go yet, mother," said Edward. " I want 
 to say something. I have learned lately that my 
 friend, Dr. Wendell, is in debt. I don't think he 
 has succeeded as he ought to have done, and the 
 little money he and his sister had seems to have 
 been badly invested, and so far as I can make it 
 out has been lost." 
 
 Mrs. Morton interrupted him : " I never did 
 think he had any sense about business matters, and 
 I am equally sure that he is one of those people 
 who must buy what they chance to want at the mo- 
 ment. Your uncle Richard was much that kind of 
 person. I paid his debts twice. Did Dr. Wendell 
 ask you to help him ? " 
 
 " No, he did not. I have lent him a little money 
 from time to time. Perhaps we, who have never 
 had to think about money, do not realize the temp- 
 tations of people like Wendell, who have refined 
 wants and scanty means. I have offered to aid 
 him further, but to do so effectually will, I fancy, 
 demand at least five thousand dollars. I could not 
 arrange this, lying helpless here in bed, and that is 
 why I want to trouble you. In a week or two, or a 
 little later, I shall have all I want; but I spent
 
 370 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 so much on the Sanitary and the soldiers' orphan 
 business that really I shall lack at least a thousand 
 of what he will need." 
 
 " But don't you think, my son " 
 
 " Think ! Mother," he said, wearily, " I am past 
 thinking. I can only feel. And besides, I am a 
 sick man, and I do not want to wait to do this 
 thing. I wish to do it now, at once." 
 
 Mrs. Morton's impulse was always to act in ac- 
 cordance with Edward's wishes, but the habit of 
 advising was also strong. 
 
 " I meant," she observed, " to ask you to think, 
 dear Ned, if this is not a rather inconsiderate use 
 of a large sum of money. I really cannot see what 
 claim Dr. Wendell has on you, and I do certainly 
 think there is a strange want of propriety, to say 
 the least, in using his position as a doctor to get 
 money out of a man so much his junior." 
 
 " Please not to say that. You hurt me when you 
 talk in that way of Wendell. You forget, mother, 
 that it was I who worried out of him the secret of 
 his debts, and that it was I who offered him help, 
 not he who asked it. I don't feel, mother, that 
 you are ever quite just to the doctor." 
 
 " I have tried to be just, Edward. I never have 
 thoroughly liked him, but nothing ever goes quite 
 straight, and the next thing will be that Alice 
 Westerley will marry him." 
 
 " I wish she would," said Edward, " for you 
 ivould adopt him, then." 
 
 " How much have you lent him, Edward ? "
 
 IN WAR TIME. 371 
 
 " About six or eight hundred dollars. I never 
 kept any account of it." 
 
 " I suppose not, Ned ; and now you want to lend 
 him five thousand ? " 
 
 " Yes, mother ; but let us drop this as a business 
 matter. My love of books and botany and the 
 microscope, and in fact all that has made life en- 
 durable of late, has been as it were a gift from this 
 man. That the debt is uncommercial is the more 
 reason why you and I should recognize it." 
 
 Had it been any one but Edward, Mrs. Morton 
 would have smiled, amused at the debit and credit 
 account thus set before her; but this large-eyed, 
 pale, and wasting youth, and the shrunken, bony 
 hand, so white and feeble, now resting in hers, held 
 her, so that she seemed to become a part of the sick 
 frame, and to feel with its gentle heart, until her 
 worldly criticisms faded, with some realizing sense 
 of the slight shame he felt that she should hesitate. 
 
 " You always have your way with me, Ned," she 
 said, softly. 
 
 " And you like it," he replied, smiling. " But 
 kiss me, mother, and then go away, please. I am 
 in a good deal of pain, and I shall fight it better 
 alone." 
 
 " And I have made you talk so much, darling." 
 
 " That has its pleasant side, too, mother. Ah, 
 there is a good deal of sweetness in life yet ! " 
 
 " If only I could give you more ! " 
 
 " But you are its biggest sugar-bowl, as it is," he 
 returned, laughing, that he might send her away
 
 372 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 feeling, as he knew she would, that if after all he 
 was able to jest with her he could not be so very 
 ill. 
 
 As he saw her leave the room, and heard her 
 through the half-open door, sit down at her writing- 
 table, he set his teeth, and with clenched hands 
 wrestled with the agony of gathering pain. 
 
 " My God ! " he muttered, " what good can there 
 / be in pain like this ? One cannot think for it ! If 
 pain does not make a man think, what use can it 
 be ? Ah, that is a let-up." 
 
 Humor, in some natures apparently the quickest 
 at call among the lighter sprites who inhabit the 
 caverns of the mind, which no illness destroys, and 
 which is peculiarly apt to rise on the sudden sub- 
 sidence of pain, was strong in this young man. 
 
 " Ah, if I only had hold of the grandfather, or 
 whoever he was, that left me this little legacy of 
 his laziness or his wickedness ! Arty says ' every 
 J one is in the higher sense his own grandfather.' T 
 wish I was mine. I 'd feel more responsible. He 
 says that's Emerson. I don't believe it. By 
 George, I must have that anodyne ! " 
 
 There were two vials, much alike, on the little 
 table by his bed ; one the medicine sent by the doc- 
 tor the day before. Still resolute not to let his 
 mother know of his increasing anguish, he tried to 
 read the directions on the labels, but failing to see 
 them distinctly, uncorked one of the bottles, think- 
 ing that the familiar odor of the anodyne, to which 
 he was accustomed, might suffice to guide him. He
 
 IN WAR TIME. 378 
 
 found, however, that it was not what he sought. 
 As he set it down his hand shook so much that he 
 upset the vial, and spilt a large part of its contents 
 between the bed and the table. He recorked it, 
 murmuring, " I am no better than a child," and 
 with a moan of pain gave up the task. To his 
 relief he heard Arthur coming up-stairs, laughing 
 and talking with Wendell, two eager, joyous 
 men. They lingered on the top landing for what 
 seemed to the sufferer an age ; but he waited with 
 a stern patience which they who have seen or have 
 themselves felt the grip of such suffering can alone 
 appreciate. 
 
 At last they came in. 
 
 " How are you to-day ? " asked Wendell, gently. 
 
 " In torment," said Edward, under his breath. 
 " But take care, or mother may hear." 
 
 At this moment Mrs. Morton entered the room, 
 excited and angry. 
 
 " Let me speak to you a moment, doctor," she 
 exclaimed. 
 
 " What is it ? " asked Edward, who had rarely 
 seen his quiet mother so manifestly disturbed. 
 
 " Matter enough," she said. " Ann Wendell 
 writes me, as she says, from a sense of duty, to re- 
 mind me that she has never pledged herself to con- 
 ceal that ridiculous story from any one but Hester, 
 and that this afternoon she means to tell it all to 
 Mr. Henry Gray." 
 
 Wendell and Arthur looked amazed. 
 
 " What is it ? " inquired Wendell.
 
 374 72V WAR TIME. 
 
 " Your sister," replied Mrs. Morton, too vexed 
 for reflection, " has got a craze about that stupid 
 nonsense of poor Hester's father having been killed 
 by my husband, and thinks Hester ought to know 
 it." 
 
 " Ann ! " cried Wendell, " Ann, of all people ! 
 Why, Mrs. Morton, she and I talked this over, a 
 year ago at least. I never dreamed of its having 
 any practical hold on her. Is n't there some mis- 
 take?" 
 
 " No ; here is her note. It is an old story and a 
 foolish one," said Mrs. Morton, " but it will make 
 mischief." 
 
 " Let her tell it," said Edward with his usual 
 good sense. " It is time we had done with it." 
 
 " And that was the meaning of the telegram, was 
 it ? " observed Arthur. " I heard my father once 
 mention it in France as a singular incident. But 
 great heavens, to tell Hester ! and to tell her now ! " 
 
 " And just as this telegram has come," exclaimed 
 Mrs. Morton, " to want to talk it over with Mr. 
 Gray, whom we barely know, and who does not 
 want Hester to marry ! What inconceivable folly ! 
 Just think how he may see fit to put it to Hester ! " 
 
 "They both ought to know it some time," said 
 Edward ; " but it should be told quietly, and not 
 by one who believes it." 
 
 " But it is simply ludicrous," returned Wendell. 
 
 " Ludicrous or not," said Edward, " we must 
 stop her, and at once, too. Mother, order the doc- 
 tor's carriage. Drive home at once, doctor, and
 
 IN WAR TIME. 375 
 
 possibly you may be in time. You can stop her, 
 can't you ? Hurry, mother." 
 
 " I think so, I hope so," rejoined Wendell, 
 who was vexed and flurried, and knew better than 
 they what Ann was when on what Mrs. Westerley 
 called the war-path of a duty. 
 
 Mrs. Morton had gone out at the first mention 
 of action. 
 
 " Great heavens, how I suffer ! " said Edward. 
 " Doctor, give me the anodyne before you go. This 
 pain will kill me some day. It is like knives in my 
 heart!" 
 
 Wendell was terribly annoyed at his sister's folly, 
 and in hot haste to repair it. " Is this the bottle I 
 sent you to-day ? " he asked. " I can't see ; your 
 curtains make the room so dark." 
 
 "Yes, that is it, I believe," returned Edward, 
 groaning. " Look for yourself, I really don't know, 
 and for God's sake hurry ; I shall die of pain. But 
 about Ann, your sister, that is more important. 
 I forget other people in my misery. Let Arty give 
 me my medicine. But be quick, some one. Now 
 do go." 
 
 Wendell glanced hastily at the vials in the half 
 light of the darkened room, and taking up the one 
 which was yet full, asked Arthur to put it on the 
 mantel. 
 
 " There, Arthur," said Wendell, " is the anodyne, 
 the one left on the table. It has been partly used." 
 He spoke low, adding, "A teaspoonful, and be 
 quick. I shall return as soon as possible. He is 
 very ill."
 
 376 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " But perhaps you had better wait." 
 
 " No, I must go. He wants me to go. There is 
 not a moment to lose. The medicine will ease him. 
 Don't delay ; " and speaking as he moved toward 
 the door, he went away annoyed and in angry 
 haste. 
 
 Mrs. Morton came into the room as the doctor 
 left it, and while Arthur was pouring out the medi- 
 cine. 
 
 " Is that his anodyne ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes, mother, it is all right. Lift him, please." 
 
 Then he put the glass to his brother's lips, say- 
 ing, " There, dear Ned, that will help you." 
 
 Edward drank it hastily. 
 
 " Oh, mother, that pain that pain ! I was sure 
 it would kill me. Bring back the doctor ! " he sud- 
 denly called, in a sharply pitched voice. " Quick ! " 
 Arthur, without question, gave one glance, and fled 
 from the room. Then Edward looked up at his 
 mother with an infinite tenderness in his eyes, the 
 thankfulness of a departing guest. 
 
 "What is it?" she cried. "Oh, what is the 
 matter ? Speak, Ned, speak to me ! " 
 / But there was no answer. His face whitened ; 
 an awful semblance of a smile went over it. He 
 was dead. 
 
 For an instant she said no word, but paused mo- 
 tionless by his side. Then a wild terror seized her. 
 She picked up the vial, which had been left on the 
 table by the bed, and staggered to the window. On 
 the label she read. " Poison. Tincture of Aco- 
 nite. Dose one drop.' 1 ''
 
 IN WAR TIME. 377 
 
 "My God!" she exclaimed. "Oh, Ned, my 
 son, my own boy ! and Arty, it will kill him ! " 
 
 For a moment she stood perfectly still, gazing at 
 the label. Her faculties seemed to gain a super- 
 human acuteness. All that was involved in this 
 discovery came swiftly before her, all that it 
 meant for herself and for others, all the vistas of 
 interminable misery for her only remaining child. 
 The clear conception of what had happened and 
 would happen was followed by the concentration 
 of mind which is possible only when every power 
 within the mental sphere is brought to a focus by 
 such intensity of will as some one of the despotic 
 instincts can alone call forth. Turning to the man- 
 telpiece, she seized the bottle which stood where 
 Arthur had placed it. With the vials clinking in 
 her trembling hand, she moved swiftly to the win- 
 dow, looking, as she went, at the label, on which 
 was written, " Anodyne. Take one teaspoonf ul as 
 directed." She returned quickly to execute her 
 purpose of placing the anodyne on the table at the 
 bedside. The dead, gray face smote her, as she 
 neared it, as with a physical blow, and, tottering, 
 she dropped one of the vials. She stooped, grop- 
 ing about to find it ; but this brief delay was fatal, 
 for as she rose again with the bottle in her hand, 
 Alice "Westerley and Wendell hastily entered. At 
 the terrible spectacle before them Wendel, always 
 \ / impulsive and emotional, lost the self-control which 
 the doctor commonly learns to keep in the face of 
 the most abrupt tragedies; but he loved Arthur
 
 378 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 well, and at sight of the dead a sudden terror dazed 
 him, as with a quick step he strode to the bedside. 
 
 " My God, Mrs. Morton," he cried, "he is dead ! 
 Where is the medicine he took ? " 
 
 " Here," said Mrs. Morton, firmly, handing him 
 the anodyne. " I took it from the table." 
 
 She was too late. Obeying an impulse, regretted 
 an instant later, he put to his lips the spoon which 
 Arthur had used, and as suddenly let it fall, with 
 a shock of remembrance at his own responsibility 
 for what had occurred. 
 
 Alice Westerley saw his dismay. She shut the 
 door which was near her. 
 
 "Oh, doctor," she asked, "what is it? What 
 has happened ? There is something wrong ! Did 
 he take the wrong medicine, Helen ? " 
 
 "I I don't know," returned Wendell, who had 
 recognized the taste of the deadly poison, and was 
 trying to collect his routed faculties. " When I left 
 him he was in great pain, but I did not think in 
 any danger." 
 
 At this moment, Arthur, who had delayed to call 
 a servant to take charge of Wendell's horse, came 
 in abruptly. He was painfully excited. 
 
 "Is he very ill? Oh, doctor, what is the mat- 
 ter?" Then he saw the open-eyed, blank face of 
 death. " But he is dead ! Impossible ! how can 
 he be dead?" Then, coming nearer, he looked at 
 Edward, and turning on Wendell seized him by the 
 arm, saying with the strange, hoarse utterance of 
 an awful dread, "What was it? What did it?
 
 IN WAR TIME. 379 
 
 Was the medicine right? I gave him what he 
 always takes ! Did I make a mistake ? " 
 
 Wendell saw his own peril. 
 
 "Hush, Arty," he said; "here is the bottle. 
 Look, it is all right. No one is to blame." 
 
 Arthur seized the vial, and strode to the window ; 
 then he sunk into a chair, exclaiming, " Thank God 
 for that, at least ! I was afraid, mother, I was 
 afraid I had made some mistake. Oh, my brother ! " 
 
 " There has been no mistake," said Wendell. 
 " Take your mother away, my boy." 
 
 Helen Morton, stern and tearless, put her hand 
 on Arthur's shoulder. " Help me to my room," 
 she murmured ; " I am faint ; " but as she passed 
 Wendell she gathered force enough to say, " Thank 
 you," and went out like one who, on the crumbling 
 verge of some abyss, has by a desperate effort won 
 \J a firmer ground, but who now, when the effort is 
 over, feels all the accumulation of the horror which, 
 while in action, it was impossible to realize. Full 
 well she knew that Alice and Wendell understood 
 what had happened, but Arthur, at least, did not, 
 and come what might he must never know. 
 
 Alice and Wendell were left with the dead. 
 
 " Wait one moment," she whispered, and went to 
 the door, where the anxious servants were collect- 
 ing. " Go down-stairs," she said, addressing them, 
 " and let Mrs. Morton's maid go to her at once. I 
 shall want some of you presently. I will ring. Mr. 
 Edward is dead. It is some heart trouble, I be- 
 lieve. Don't make a noise."
 
 380 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Alice was quiet and collected. She had, as she 
 thought, seen through the matter only too clearly, 
 and knew at once that Arthur must have made a 
 mistake, and that for the present a great calamity 
 had been averted. Closing the door she turned to 
 Wendell. 
 
 " Oh, Ezra ! " she said, in a suppressed voice, 
 " how terrible ! I don't mean for Edward, God 
 has been kind to him, but Arthur and Helen ! 
 Oh, Ezra, what shall we do ? I wish I had not 
 known it all. It is such a dreadful thing to know ; 
 and how can it be hidden ? How can it ? " 
 
 " If," he replied, " no one ever speaks of it to 
 Arthur, he will certainly not suspect anything. I 
 I had to set his mind at rest." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know," she returned; "but what a 
 sad necessity ! " 
 
 She knew that he had not told Arthur the truth, 
 but not for a moment did she blame him, nor could 
 she dream how black the lie for self -protection had 
 really been. 
 
 By this time Wendell had regained full posses- 
 sion of his mental powers. Many strange and 
 dreadful possibilities went through his mind. He 
 saw that he was safe if he played out the rdle 
 which hard circumstance had arranged for him, 
 and which he had seemed to accept as a means of 
 saving Arthur. There are men and how many 
 let each of us say who would have frankly 
 taken on themselves the blame of Edward's death. 
 Had Wendell done so, he would have drawn to
 
 7.V WAR TIME. 381 
 
 himself for life the woman at his side. Even now 
 she was thinking of the immense courage which, 
 from her estimate, it must have taken to shelter 
 another with a falsehood. Unfortunately, Wen- 
 dell's instincts of self-defense betrayed him, as they 
 are apt to betray a too emotional and too imagina- 
 tive nature ; and when, later, he came to think it 
 all over more calmly, he felt that were his true 
 share known, Alice would shrink from him in hor- 
 ror. But men of half-feminine temperament rarely 
 understand the grandeur of sacrifice of which wo- 
 men are capable. There are women who can love 
 men they do not respect ; but there are others who 
 cannot love unless they also respect, and to them, 
 when once their love is given, the path of some 
 difficult duty is no less the path to their larger love 
 than it is, as the poet has sung, the path to glory. 
 
 Alice had said that what he had done was a sad 
 necessity. 
 
 "I think," he returned, "that you had better 
 advise Mrs. Morton never to mention, nor discuss 
 with Arthur, the subject of his brother's death." 
 
 "But you, you will have to say of what he 
 died ; and is n't there some form ? It is you I am 
 thinking of. Won't you have to give a certificate 
 about the cause of his death ? Is not that usual ? " 
 
 Strange to say, Wendell was more disturbed by 
 this necessity of disobeying the habitual moral code 
 of his profession than by the mere fact of the lie it- 
 self. 
 
 " Yes, I must do it," he rejoined, "I must do
 
 382 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 it; there is no help for it. And what a sacri- 
 fice!" 
 
 " It does seem more than should be asked of any 
 one," she returned sadly. " How can you do it ? " 
 
 " I shall simply say that it was death from paral- 
 ysis of the heart, which is true. Can you see any- 
 thing else I can do ? " 
 
 " I cannot," she replied ; " but I should rather 
 do it myself than have you do it. I would rather 
 lie than have you lie," and she began to feel a gath- 
 ering horror at this discussion by the side of the 
 mute form before them. " Do what you think 
 right. God sees, and He alone can judge ! " She 
 would have submitted to any torture to win for him 
 some escape from what, as she grew calmer, all her 
 nature increasingly abhorred, and abhorred in vain. 
 " Let us go. I cannot talk any longer, and and 
 won't you close his eyes, Ezra ? " 
 
 Wendell bent over the dead man, troubled 
 deeply by his own capacity to evolve ideas which 
 shook him emotionally. 
 
 " Now," he thought, " now, perhaps he knows 
 all. And how well he loved me ! " Twice he 
 touched the open lids, and twice drew back. At 
 last, he closed them softly. " And does he blame 
 me ? " he murmured. 
 
 Then Alice kissed the dead face, and went out, 
 followed by Wendell. A few minutes later she 
 came out of Mrs. Morton's room. 
 
 "Mrs. Morton wants to see you to-morrow, 
 early," she said. "You have had a sore trial,"
 
 IN WAR TIME. 383 
 
 and, standing on the step above him, she kissed 
 him, and went up-stairs again. Wendell stayed a 
 moment looking after her, and then, turning to meet 
 Arthur, said a few words of commonplace consola- 
 tion, such as people are apt to say on these occa- 
 sions. 
 
 "You are very kind," rejoined the young man. 
 " You are always very kind. Since I have had a 
 quiet moment I remember that you pointed out to 
 me the vial, so that of course there could not be 
 any mistake." 
 
 Wendell hesitated a moment. 
 
 " I really don't remember. I suppose I did. 
 Yes, of course I did. But why should you be 
 troubled about the medicine ? It was his heart dis- 
 ease that killed him. It had nothing to do with his 
 medicine. That was all right." 
 
 He might yet have to say that he had thus 
 spoken to insure Arthur's peace of mind. 
 
 " It 's a great relief," said the latter, "a 
 greater than any one can imagine." 
 
 " Well, never speak of it to your mother," re- 
 joined Wendell. " It 's all right. No one was to 
 blame. Best never to discuss it with your mother, 
 or any one. It is God's doing." Then he had a 
 sudden horror of what he had said. " I mean," he 
 added, "it couldn't have been helped." The 
 young fellow wrung his hand and turned sadly 
 away, as the doctor went slowly and thoughtfully 
 down the staircase.
 
 xxm. 
 
 SOON there fell upon the house the quiet with 
 which we surround those who have no longer the 
 power to hear, and the servants went and came 
 with the want of naturalness which death inevitably 
 brings to all who are not simply crushed by grief. 
 Arthur, too deeply hurt to be of any use, sent for 
 Mr. Wilmington, and had a curious wonderment 
 because the old man, who was much attached to 
 Edward, did not seem to be more shocked and 
 more visibly distressed. Arthur was too young to 
 have learned that age rarely retains life's primal 
 capacity to grieve, and that for it a young life cut 
 short does not awaken the same sense of premature 
 wreck as it does in the young themselves. Age is 
 too near eternity to value justly human hopes. Yet 
 the elder man's calm was of service to Arthur, and 
 steadied him; and then, too, the following day 
 Hester came over with Ann Wendell to see him. 
 
 Wendell had felt that it was wise to stay as long 
 as possible at the Mortons', so that it was near 
 dusk before he reached home. 
 
 He found Ann comfortably seated in a rocking- 
 chair, her work on her lap, the shadows of evening 
 having for a time suspended her task. She was 
 singing one of the old Puritan hymn tunes with 
 which she was wont to enliven her labor or gratify
 
 IN WAR TIME. 385 
 
 her leisure. Wendell stood still a moment at the 
 door. 
 
 "Ah! Is that you, Ezra?" she said. "How 
 late you are! You are getting very unpunctual. 
 Your tea must be stone cold." 
 
 Her quiet little criticism she smiled as she 
 spoke exasperated him. 
 
 " You, at least, seem very comfortable ! " he ex- 
 claimed, in a tone so hard and unnatural that his 
 sister rose instantly, facing him. Then, even in 
 the failing light, Ann saw that in his face which 
 shocked her. 
 
 " What has happened ? Something has gone 
 wrong. What is it?" 
 
 He hesitated a moment before saying, "You 
 
 won't be so comfortable when I tell you." He re- 
 
 / called with an approach to fury that it was the haste 
 
 caused by Ann's obstinate folly that had been the 
 
 true cause of the disaster which had befallen him. 
 
 " Why do you speak so to me, brother ? " she 
 said. " There is nothing wrong with you, is there ? " 
 
 " No ; but Edward Morton died suddenly, this 
 afternoon." 
 
 " Dead ! Edward dead ! How dreadful, Ezra ! 
 How sad for you, brother, but not for him not 
 for him. I have long believed it could not be far 
 off ; but death is always near, and always far off. 
 What can I do for them? Don't you think I 
 should go over there at once ? " 
 
 " No one will want you," he answered abruptly. 
 " Edward was in great pain when I got there, and 
 your letter did not make things any better."
 
 386 IN WAR mm. 
 
 " You cannot mean that what I did hurt him ! 
 How could it do that ? How could I have hurt any 
 one I loved so well ? And it had to be done, it 
 had to be done." 
 
 " Yes, and so have all stupid follies, I suppose." 
 
 "Ezra!" 
 
 " Oh, I don't mean it killed him, but it did make 
 him worse. How could it do otherwise ? " 
 
 "Will you tell me how the boy died, brother?" 
 She spoke quietly and softly. 
 
 " I can't," he said. "I Don't ask me any 
 more about it yet. I was never in my life so upset 
 by anything." 
 
 " Very well. Don't say any more now. We will 
 talk of it another time. But why did Mrs. Morton 
 trouble the sick lad with my letter? Surely that 
 was needless." 
 
 " She was so angry, Ann, that I think she lost 
 her head. She broke out about it before both the 
 boys. A nice business you have made of it ! I call 
 it wicked." 
 
 Ann's eyes filled ; if ever tears were bitter, 
 hers were bitter then. Her incessant sacrifices for 
 her brother had been too purely instinctive to be 
 counted by her as of any weight in their mutual 
 relations. Secure of his affection, she asked no 
 more return for the gentle offices of life than the 
 mother-bird asks of her young ; but that any one 
 she loved should think she would deliberately do 
 a wrong action disturbed her deeply. 
 
 " What we think right," she said, " is all the
 
 IN WAR TIME. 387 
 
 right we can do. The issues are in other hands. 
 Please not to say I am wicked, Ezra ; but you did 
 not say that, did you, not that, exactly ? " 
 
 " I do not know what I said. I trust that you 
 were not fool enough to talk to Mr. Gray. In fu- 
 ture I hope you will consult me about things which 
 concern me more than any one else." 
 
 " I will do as you say, brother, as to anything in 
 which my conscience is not concerned." 
 
 " Conscience ! I am tired of hearing of it. Did 
 you see Mr. Gray ? " 
 
 " I did not. He failed to come, as he said he 
 would. He was delayed, and has sent a letter for 
 you." 
 
 Wendell took it from her. " When he does 
 come, Ann, you must not speak to him at all about 
 this matter. I shall attend to it myself." 
 
 "Oh," said Ann, shocked into unusual subjuga- 
 tion, " if you will do so, I shall be much relieved, 
 Ezra. You are certainly the proper person ; but 
 you did not appear to think it quite so important 
 as it seemed to me." 
 
 " Very well," he returned, " we shall see ; " but 
 he made no such pledge as Ann desired. 
 
 " Has Mr. Morton been heard from? " she asked. 
 " Somehow I cannot feel at ease about it. I just 
 seem to be putting aside a duty. And this awful 
 death ! It seems to bring one's duties closer, Ezra." 
 
 " Perhaps," rejoined Wendell, " it may comfort 
 you to know that Colonel Morton has been heard 
 from, and that he says it is simply absurd ; so I
 
 388 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 trust we have now heard the last of it, Ann. It 
 has made mischief enough to satisfy any woman." 
 
 Her brother's positiveness confused her. She 
 was not clear as to being in any way responsible, 
 and concluded that Ezra's outbreak was due partly 
 to his grief, and partly to the irritability of a man 
 not quite well, and now worn out by the strain the 
 day's events had put upon him. She had the ma- 
 / ternal feeling that unusual peevishness must be due 
 to some distinct failure in health. 
 
 "You must be sick, brother," she said gently. 
 " You never have talked to me this way before ! " 
 
 It was not in Wendell to like to wound, and he 
 was made uncomfortable by his sister's increasing 
 distress; but we cannot strike and not hurt our 
 own knuckles. 
 
 " I am perfectly wretched," he returned. " This 
 death has been too much for me. You must for- 
 give me, sister." 
 
 " Don't ask me to forgive you, brother. It hurts 
 me to think that you feel I have anything to for- 
 give. You will go and lie down, won't you ? I 
 will not mention that business any more." 
 
 " Thank you," he said, and went up-stairs. 
 
 Once in his room he threw himself on the bed, 
 and with his hands clasped behind his head lay still 
 and thought. 
 
 He was annoyed that he could not steadily con- 
 trol his own logical processes. He tried to feel 
 clear that he was not entirely to blame for Ed- 
 ward's death, and then essayed with some ease to
 
 IN WAR TIME. 389 
 
 persuade himself that Arthur was the person most 
 blamable, and yet that even if he himself had been 
 hasty or careless he was bound to protect Arthur, 
 and that to speak frankly would never so entirely 
 clear Arthur as to be of any use. Still, no sooner 
 had he seemingly satisfied himself than thoughts 
 which rose unsummoned, like ghosts, startled him, 
 and filled his mind with new and horrible sugges- 
 tions of future risks and dangers. Vivid and terri- 
 ble images of the fatal moment of haste came be- 
 fore him, and with a memory of his physical recoil 
 he saw again the dead, and his own hand stretched 
 out to close the open eyes. It was growing dark. 
 He rose and lit the gas. As he crossed the room 
 he remembered the Middle-Age belief that the 
 blood would flow anew when the slayer touched 
 the dead slain. There was a grotesque horror in 
 the idea that in a man who had been poisoned 
 this could not be. He sat down, with his face in 
 his hands, and gave way to a strange sense of men- 
 tal confusion, a valueless jostling of incongruous 
 thoughts and memories and fears, which seemed to 
 come and go on the stage of consciousness, until at 
 last the giddiness which sometimes follows great 
 emotional tension made him stagger to the bed, on 
 which he fell heavily. 
 
 Then happening to see Mr. Gray's letter, which 
 had dropped on the floor, and being a little eased 
 by the supine position, the physical distress of his 
 vertigo having for the time cleared his head of its 
 thronging and uncontrollable phantoms, he opened
 
 390 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 the envelope. It contained a kind note, in which 
 Mr. Gray desired the doctor to tell Hester that, if 
 pleasant for her, he wished her in a week or two to 
 go with him to Baltimore, and farther south if the 
 state of the country made that possible. He re- 
 peated his thanks to Miss Wendell and her brother, 
 and said that even if Hester wished to return to 
 them for a time, he would like now to take charge 
 of the sum placed in Wendell's hands. He hoped, 
 however, that Dr. Wendell would not feel unwilling 
 to retain a thousand dollars, as he had before asked 
 him to do, and also would kindly render him a full 
 account of the extent to which money had been ex- 
 pended for Hester's board and dress. He desired 
 that the nine thousand dollars might be remitted to 
 him in New York by draft as soon as convenient. 
 
 This added blow fell with but little weight on 
 Wendell. Capacity to feel anxiety has its limits in 
 mysterious failures of response in the brain cells, 
 ^ and in some people convulsive explosions of emo- 
 tional torment make impossible for a time the nor- 
 mal activities which an intellectual conception of a 
 difficulty or trouble should awaken. He had a cer- 
 tain obscure sense that this matter had been pro- 
 vided for, until suddenly he remembered that this 
 idea was due to Edward's promise to lend him 
 money. A more commercially minded man would 
 very early have presented to himself this as one, at 
 least, of the embarrassments which arose out of this 
 calamity, but Wendell was not prone to think even 
 enough of money. To do him justice, through all
 
 IN WAR TIME. 391 
 
 his fears, and efforts at self -vindication, there was 
 forever coming and going a remembrance of how 
 dear to him had been the young man who was 
 dead, how noble he had been, how tender and true 
 a friend. Recalling Edward's self-sacrificing char- 
 acter, he even tried to find in this an excuse for his 
 own concealment, not for the moment setting before 
 himself the conception that in hiding the truth he 
 was allowing an innocent person to bear his guilt, 
 even if only in the minds of Mrs. Morton and Mrs. 
 Westerley. 
 
 "And really," he said to himself, "a brother 
 should have been the most careful ; " and he thus 
 confused himself at moments into a state of rest of 
 mind. Many people are helped at such times by 
 their incapacity to think clearly, and at all times 
 Wendell, who was admirably veneered with intelli- 
 gence, was incapable of attaining in any of his 
 logical processes the definiteness of results which is 
 reached by more thoroughly trained intellects. 
 
 By degrees, this matter of the money he was un- 
 able to return to its owner began to relate itself 
 painfully to Alice Westerley. Too well he knew 
 what sentence he might have to read in those eyes, 
 whose light would be to him as the sheen on the 
 blade of the angel of judgment. For the time the 
 nearness of this peril routed all other terrors, and 
 he sat on the bedside holding the letter and thinking 
 the vain thoughts of a man without resource. At 
 last he felt again the dizziness which is so apt, upon 
 concentration of mental effort, to return to a brain
 
 392 /AT WAR TIME. 
 
 recently overstrained by either work or emotion. 
 Then he began to fear lest some horrible physical 
 incapacity should come upon him, and paralyze his 
 activity. Stuffing the letter into his pocket, he 
 opened the door and called, " Ann ! Bring me 
 some whisky." He took a half tumblerful, and 
 quieting her fears said that he would undress and 
 go to bed. Then he locked the door, and still con- 
 fused threw himself dressed on the bed, and was 
 soon in a deep sleep, brought on by the unaccus- 
 tomed stimulus. 
 
 The next morning his head ached, and he went 
 back to bed, asking Ann to request a friendly phy- 
 sician near by to see for him such of his cases as 
 needed care. She wrote also to Mrs. Morton that, 
 overcome by the events of the day before, he had 
 /remained at home, suffering from a severe head- 
 ache. 
 
 He was glad, indeed, when Ann herself suggested 
 this course to him, and felt it an inconceivable re- 
 lief not so soon again to have to enact his part be- 
 fore Mrs. Morton, and possibly Alice. From the 
 former there came kind inquiries, and later in the 
 day a note from Alice Westerley. It was simply a 
 loving little remembrance in words, with of course 
 no allusion to the scene through which they had so 
 lately passed. 
 
 Towards evening a servant came over to ask Dr. 
 Wendell for the usual formal attestation of a death. 
 We have said that he had looked forward to this 
 act with dread. He remembered too well the day
 
 IN WAR TIME. 393 
 
 when he had failed to meet a professional obligation 
 V/ brought on him by the unlooked-for chances of war. 
 It had been known to few, and not to Ann, but he 
 had bitterly regretted his weakness, and had only 
 by degrees succeeded in putting it aside from his 
 life ; and now again he was to sin against the 
 moral code of his profession. The need was too 
 urgent to admit of long reflection. He wrote with 
 haste the name and age, gave as the cause of death 
 paralysis of the heart, and signed his name. After 
 putting the paper in an envelope, he took it out 
 and looked at it again, wondering whether his sig- 
 nature would exhibit any of the peculiar feelings 
 with which he wrote it. 
 
 The next morning, early, he received a note from 
 Mrs. Morton, asking him to call as soon as he was 
 able, and containing other matter of so grave a na- 
 ture that he hastened to write a reply, at the close 
 of which he excused his prolonged absence on the 
 plea of continued suffering. 
 
 The constant petty need for self-command which 
 becomes a part of the social training of women like 
 Mrs. Morton is apt to make effectual those larger 
 efforts which are now and then demanded by some 
 grave exigency. But supplementing this, Mrs. 
 Morton had one of those natures which are stead- 
 ied by great emergencies, and sometimes unduly 
 excited by small ones. In the presence of her dead 
 son, she broke into the passionate grief of sorely 
 wounded motherhood ; but away from this dreary 
 reminder, she shocked or surprised all her friends,
 
 394 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 save Alice, by a calmness and self-control to the 
 mystery of which they had no clew. Three days 
 after her son's death she said to Alice Westerley, 
 " I have been unwilling to talk to you, or to any 
 one ; but now I have made up my mind, and I want 
 to say some things to you, and then I desire never 
 again to speak of them or hear of them." 
 
 Alice had dreaded this talk, but on the whole 
 was not sorry to have it over. She too had some- 
 thing which she felt must be said. 
 
 " I think," she answered, " you are very right, 
 Helen. I have not ceased to feel how hard it is 
 for you that a thing as sacred and sweet as the end- 
 ing of this dear life should come to you surrounded 
 with such awful bitterness of suffering and such 
 unusual trials. Is there anything I can do for 
 you?" 
 
 " No, there is nothing. You understand me ; 
 that is something you have done for me. Beyond 
 it there is nothing, nothing ! When once this 
 talk is over, we will let its remembrance be as a 
 thing that is dead and buried with my boy ; but now 
 there are things I must say, I cannot live alone 
 with them." 
 
 " And what, dear Helen ? " 
 
 " Have you thought, Alice, that Arthur, whose 
 
 carelessness cost my Edward's life, is his sole heir ? 
 
 / That he ignorantly profits by it ? That his way to 
 
 an easy, happy marriage is smoothed by this 
 
 deed?" 
 
 " Oh, Helen, don't talk of a pure accident as
 
 /AT WAR TIME. 395 
 
 ' this deed ' ! It sounds too much like speaking of 
 a voluntary act." 
 
 " I spoke as a malicious world might speak. 
 What would such a story become with the com- 
 ments of Mrs. Grace or a half dozen others we 
 can name ? What would happen to my son if such 
 a whisper reached him ? He would say, ' I cannot 
 touch this money ; ' and then this feeling would be 
 called remorse. Oh, I have tasted this cup in all 
 its bitterness, Alice ! " 
 
 " But he never can hear. He never will hear, 
 unless you betray yourself. I trust he has not the 
 faintest idea of his share in it, poor lad ! " 
 
 " Not the least, Alice. He has seen the doctor's 
 certificate, and you yourself heard what Dr. Wen- 
 dell said to him. No ; I do believe he has not the 
 very faintest suspicion. Indeed, how could he? 
 But I shudder lest something should turn up to 
 make him inquire further. Suppose I were ill, or 
 dying, and were to let slip some word of terror ; 
 and never, never, will this be out of my mind ! Oh, 
 I shudder to think of it ! Even the most unlikely 
 possibilities become probable to me, and it seems to 
 me that there is no precaution I can take which 
 would be needless. And you, can you always 
 j be sure of yourself ? And there is Dr. Wendell. 
 \J\ The very ease with which he accepted the situation 
 \ alarmed me. It seemed like weakness." 
 
 " Indeed, my friend," returned Alice, " you are 
 making yourself distrustful without just cause. 
 Like you, I too have thought over all this sad affair.
 
 396 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 To tell you the truth, I think we were all wrong : 
 you and I, who were swept away by our love, and 
 Dr. Wendell, who nobly accepted a compromising 
 position to shelter one who is not of his kindred. 
 You and I may lie, and believe that he who knows 
 all things and the secrets of all hearts will forgive 
 us ; but, Helen, whether you whether you had a 
 right to permit a man in Dr. Wendell's pkce to 
 protect your son at the cost of his own honor is 
 I think you won't mind what I say ? I think 
 it wrong." 
 
 Mrs. Morton reflected a moment. "I did not 
 ask him to do it," she said. 
 
 " No, but you accepted the sacrifice, and you 
 thanked him." 
 
 " And could I have been human and not have 
 done so? Put yourself in my place. If Arthur 
 had been your son, what would you have done ? " 
 
 " I cannot say, Helen. No one can put herself 
 in another's place. And yet and yet I cannot 
 think you were right ; and, dear, to blame you 
 even in thought at a time like this seems to me 
 cruel." 
 
 "I must say, Alice, that you appear to think 
 more of Dr. Wendell than of me." 
 
 " I think of you both. He has not in this mat- 
 ter the stake you have, and for him it must be in- 
 conceivably painful. And yet I confess that I see 
 now no escape. It might have been better to have 
 faced the truth openly at first, and taken the con- 
 sequences, better, dear, even for Arthur."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 397 
 
 "You cannot expect me, at least, to think so. 
 But now, Alice, that things have gone so far, what 
 course except silence is left us and him ? I mean, 
 what in your judgment ? Mine has never varied. 
 I shall defend my boy at all costs, at any one's 
 cost." 
 
 " I see no other course," Alice sadly replied. 
 " We have been wrong, and now we must abide 
 by it," and silently she thought of Wendell. 
 
 " Why," questioned Mrs. Morton, " why do 
 you suppose Dr. Wendell has not been here ? I 
 sent for him." 
 
 " But you told me that Miss Ann said he was 
 sick." 
 
 " Yes, and he has written me himself to the 
 same effect, but he must know how intensely desir- 
 . /bus I am to see him. She says it is a headache. 
 ^ A headache ! " 
 
 " Oh, I suppose that is a mere excuse. Cannot 
 you imagine that a man may have been shaken by 
 what he went through ? And he is a very sensi- 
 tive man, Helen." 
 
 " I know all that, but I think he should have 
 come. I want to feel more sure about him." 
 
 " And you distrust him after what he has done 
 for you ? " 
 
 "I I distrust every one, him, you, myself, 
 Arthur, every one ! I must feel more certain, or it 
 will kiU me ! " 
 
 " But how can you feel more certain ? " 
 
 " I don't know yet, but I must. I do not like 
 this delay in coming here."
 
 398 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " It seems to me natural enough." 
 
 Mrs. Morton was silent for a moment, and then 
 said, 
 
 " Did I tell you what my poor Edward said to 
 me about Dr. Wendell being a good deal in 
 debt?" 
 
 " No, but it does not surprise me. He must 
 have had many expenses ; and there was Hester." 
 
 " Edward wished to put him at ease, and had 
 not enough money on hand, so he asked me to lend 
 him a thousand dollars for a few days." 
 
 " And did you ? " 
 
 " I said I would. I did not think Edward was 
 right, but you know, dear, I never refused that boy 
 anything." 
 
 " And why do you speak of this now ? " queried 
 Alice, who was all alive with a terrible anticipa- 
 tion. She understood Helen Morton well, and 
 knew that she was at times determined to carry 
 her plans at any cost, and that in a difficulty, such 
 as the one before her, no considerations were likely 
 to arise except how to meet it. 
 
 Her friend's manner was full of suspicion for 
 Mrs. Morton. 
 
 "I thought," she explained, "I would fulfill 
 Edward's wishes, and I sent Dr. Wendell the 
 amount Edward mentioned as desirable." 
 
 " How much ? " asked Alice, faintly. 
 
 " Five thousand dollars, a check, dear." 
 
 " You sent him five thousand dollars ! " 
 
 " Yes. It would have been my boy's wish."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 399 
 
 " My God, how horrible ! " exclaimed Alice. 
 
 " Horrible ! What do you mean, Alice ! " de- 
 manded Mrs. Morton, sternly. 
 
 " I mean," said Alice, " that you did not do this 
 as a gift from our dead Edward. You gave it as 
 a bribe to silence ! That is why you gave it. And 
 how could you do it ? A man does a wrong thing 
 from noble motives, and because you never liked 
 him you insult him with an offer of money, and 
 this when you knew him to be in difficulties ! And 
 the folly of it, the folly of it ! " Alice rose and 
 walked to and fro, agitated and angry. 
 
 " You told me that you could not put yourself in 
 my place," said Mrs. Morton, " and now I am sure 
 of it. I dare not trust any one, and I must make 
 myself certain." 
 
 " And does this make you certain ? It makes you 
 insecure, if that were possible. Do you suppose a 
 gentleman do you suppose a man like Wendell 
 will let you smirch his motives with even the sem- 
 blance of a bribe ? " She recalled Wendell's sad 
 and refined face, and saw, as it were, the scorn of 
 his lips. " He will send it back to you," she af- 
 firmed, " and you will have hurt a fast friend, or 
 even made an enemy. I should hate you were I he." 
 
 Helen looked the surprise she felt. "Read 
 that," she said. 
 
 Alice took the open note ; and reading it, life 
 grew black before her. Its sweetness went out of 
 it, and belief in man, and trust in God. It was 
 this:
 
 400 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Morton, your kind note, with its in- 
 closing, fulfilling my dear friend's wishes as ex- 
 pressed to me, has touched me deeply. I hasten 
 to thank you, and to say how great a relief it is to 
 me. I can never forget the terms in which you 
 speak of my services to him, and I thank you 
 again, both for the act and the words which accom- 
 pany it. You do not speak of it as a loan, but as 
 that I must of course consider it. I shall, I think, 
 be able to see you to-morrow or the day after. I 
 must ask, as I am sensitive about such matters, 
 that you will not mention this to Arthur or to Mrs. 
 Westerley." 
 
 "Not mention this to Mrs. Westerley?" said 
 Alice, standing with the note in her hand. 
 
 " Of course," returned Mrs. Morton, " that was 
 a matter for my discretion. You had to know it, 
 as you know all the rest of it." 
 
 Alice felt that she must get out into the air. 
 The paper fell on the floor as she spoke in broken 
 tones : " Oh, he said well who said there is no 
 wrong which has not a child! You have done a 
 / wicked thing. Don't talk to me any more now. I 
 cannot bear it ! May God forgive you, I never 
 can ! Let me go, let me go ! Life is over, 
 life is dead." 
 
 " Alice, Alice ! " exclaimed Mrs. Morton, 
 alarmed. "I could not have dreamed of this.' 
 Don't go ! " 
 
 " I must, I must ! Don't stop me ! I shall 
 die! I shall fall dead if I stay here! Room,
 
 IN WAR TIME. 401 
 
 room ! " she cried, wildly. " Let me pass ! Let 
 me go ! " and with a face that scared her friend 
 she left the room, and presently was moving swiftly 
 across the lawn. Walking with a fierce energy 
 which represented in physical action the agony of 
 restrained emotion, she passed through the lanes. 
 It was the close of June, and the air was warm 
 even in the afternoon, so that in her own house the 
 long windows were open to the floor. Alice was 
 glad of it, as it enabled her to enter unnoticed. 
 She caught at the nearest chair, sat down at once, 
 and a minute later was aware of Hester at her 
 side. 
 
 " Oh," said the girl, " I am glad to have found 
 you. How are they all ? " 
 
 But hearing no answer, she came close to the 
 chair. Alice was shaking, unable to speak. Hes- 
 ter turned in alarm to call for help, when Alice 
 said explosively, " Don't ring ! " Hester was 
 quick-witted, and her life in a doctor's house had 
 not left her quite ignorant. She knew at once that 
 /this was an attack of nervous agitation, and that 
 v Alice was unwilling to have it seen. She closed 
 the door, and kneeling without a word held Alice's 
 hands steadily in hers, while the elder woman set 
 herself with great effort to overcome the physical 
 agitation which now possessed her. She was suffer- 
 ing from one of those wild insurrections which seem 
 to be the natural result of the social laws which so 
 continually crush into expressionless silence the 
 normal outbursts of our passions or emotions. By
 
 
 402 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 and by Alice grew more quiet, and at last her tre- 
 mor ceased, and she fell back with a sigh of relief. 
 
 " You are better," said Hester ; " but shall I not 
 run home and ask Dr. Wendell to come ? He is 
 not out, you know, to-day, but I am sure he would 
 come at once if he knew you were ill." 
 
 " No," replied Alice, " I want no one ; and you 
 will never tell any one of this. I have had a great 
 shock, Hester, and it has nearly killed me." 
 
 Hester of course presumed that it was Edward's 
 death of which she spoke. " I can well imagine 
 it," she returned. 
 
 " No, you cannot, child, any more than you can 
 imagine death. But now I want to be alone ; so 
 please go home, and let this be as between us two. 
 You behaved quietly, I like that ; and kiss me, 
 dear." 
 
 Somewhat reluctantly Hester went away wonder- 
 ing, leaving Alice Westerley to the sad company 
 of her own thoughts. Like Wendell, the woman 
 he loved had also to face a future. As her physical 
 control returned, she began to find it possible to 
 think. She knew that by degrees she had gathered 
 interest in Wendell, and that a part of it arose 
 from her power to lift him out of his moods, and 
 to sympathize with his theoretical ambitions. He 
 had said that others had not that ability, and the 
 attribution of exceptional capacity is a subtle 
 flattery. Then he was gentle, sad, and with all 
 his intellect, which Alice rated too highly, he had 
 much of that strange dependence on women which
 
 2N WAR TIME. 403 
 
 some much larger characters have exhibited. She 
 knew that she had had full warning as to where 
 the path she trod would lead, but each step was 
 pleasant, and the steps unconsciously multiplied, 
 until when Colonel Fox spoke return was impossi- 
 ble. Her lover had now done that thing which 
 more than justified Colonel Fox and all that the 
 malicious-minded had whispered. 
 
 A great writer has said that in all women's love 
 there is a maternal element. It rose at times wildly 
 in Alice's breast, making her yearn to help and 
 protect Wendell, and for the moment utterly blind- 
 ing her to the depth of infamy to which he had de- 
 scended. This, indeed, was to her most strange. 
 How could a learned, scholar-like man, of gentle 
 ways and refined tastes, suddenly fall so far ! She 
 shuddered. There must have been events in his 
 life of which she knew not, horrible preparations 
 for this final degradation. Then also there was 
 something blundering and stupid about it all, 
 about his note, and his mode of acceptance, and his 
 reference to Alice. And why did he not come to 
 her, if he was in such sore straits? "And if he 
 had, oh, if he had," she exclaimed aloud, "I 
 should have married him ; and then and then 
 some day I should have come to know that he could 
 do such things as this ! " 
 
 And here it struck her that she was ingeniously 
 torturing herself. " I must decide," she said. 
 
 In fact, from the instant that she read Wendell's 
 note to Mrs. Morton she had made up her mind ;
 
 404 IN WAR TJVE. 
 
 nay, all the habits and sentiments of a life of truth 
 and purity and honor made it up for her. When 
 seeming to hesitate she was only cheating love's 
 sweet patience with the semblance of indecision. 
 
 How the next twenty-four hours were passed 
 Alice Westerley could hardly have told a year or 
 two later. Great moral catastrophes, like physical 
 shocks, disturb or even obliterate in some minds 
 the memory of the lesser events which follow them. 
 It may be added that she was suffering less acutely. 
 For the mind, as for the body, the tiger claws of 
 calamity bring about for a time a certain amount 
 of incapacity to feel further anguish, and leave us 
 crushed, inert, and hopeless. 
 
 The day after her talk with Mrs. Morton, Alice 
 sat alone, towards evening, in her drawing-room. 
 Unsympathetic nature mocked her mood with the 
 sun of a June day, and with full eyes she sat watch- 
 ing a pair of humming-birds as they darted through 
 the swaying roses which hung about the window. 
 
 At this moment she heard a step on the gravel 
 walk, and catching a glimpse of Wendell stepped 
 back into the room as he rang the bell. Then, with- 
 out a moment's hesitation, she went to the door of 
 the room and waited until the servant appeared in 
 the hall, when she said, 
 
 " I am not at home to any one, to any one." 
 
 She stood with one hand clutching at her heart, 
 holding her breath for the moment, as she heard a 
 voice but too well known, and then through the 
 vines saw Wendell turn and go slowly down the
 
 IN WAR TIME. 405 
 
 gravel path. She could see his side face, its pallor 
 and the fineness of its lines. She gave way for the 
 moment. Overcome by her emotions, and hardly 
 knowing what she meant to do, she turned to a 
 window which opened out on to the porch and gave 
 access to the garden. It was closed, and fastened 
 by a catch. The physical effort needed to move it 
 steadied her, and when she succeeded in lifting the 
 sash she paused irresolute, and remained standing 
 by the window while Wendell walked slowly and 
 ^ hesitatingly away from her, down the little avenue 
 of maples which led to the gate. 
 
 " And with that face ! " she thought, as she 
 moved away, " I don't know how it can be ! " For 
 the moment she had a wild desire to see Wendell, 
 and to tell him that, love him as she might, mar- 
 riage was out of the question; but she was wise 
 enough to fear her own weakness, and to know that 
 to say to his face what she must say would but add 
 to the sum of her misery an incalculable torment. 
 
 The love she dreaded to torture face to face was 
 as strong as her own, and the capacity for the nur- 
 ture of an intense affection was large in Wendell, 
 of a half -womanly largeness, and represented 
 a life of absolute purity. 
 
 As he left her house he knew that his reception 
 had been unusual. He had seen Mrs. Morton, who 
 had been kind and thankful, and had so stated her 
 gratitude as to make him feel that the money he 
 had taken with apparent reluctance was in a meas- 
 ure earned ; but no word had been said about Mrs.
 
 406 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 Westerley. Mrs. Morton did not know what to 
 say, or in fact whether she could wisely do any- 
 thing but keep silent, and for the time her own 
 grief was paramount. Then Wendell had walked 
 up the main street, and been much questioned as to 
 Edward's death by Mrs. Bullock and by Miss Sarah 
 Grace, who was developing a promising faculty for 
 the collection of facts about her neighbors. It had 
 put the man in an ill humor, and he turned into 
 the lane, contrasting with these petty natures the 
 graciousness of his mistress, her multiple interests 
 in life, and even her sympathy with those who fol- 
 lowed pursuits that were incomprehensible to her. 
 He had the happy poetical quality of dreaming 
 himself out of situations, of ceasing to be himself 
 \J for a time; and he walked along feeling as if now 
 he were true and were moving in the sunshine of 
 her truth, and as if her kiss had had the force of a 
 benediction and had laid the demons of sin which 
 once possessed him. 
 
 Then he was sent away from her door. That 
 might have been an accident, but at present it was 
 a new wretchedness. To see her banished all other 
 thoughts, and to-day he had great need of her. He 
 turned back, on a fresh impulse, and again rang. 
 
 " I must see Mrs. Westerley, if she is in the 
 house," he declared. 
 
 " She is not at home, sir," repeated the servant, 
 who knew his business. 
 
 " Give her my card," said Wendell, perempto- 
 rily. He had written on it "Please to see me."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 407 
 
 John turned, rather dubious, and found his way 
 through back premises into the drawing-room. 
 
 Alice shuddered. Fate had been too much for 
 her. Should she put him off, and then write to 
 him ? But she hardly felt up to so stern a r61e of 
 endurance. " Show Dr. Wendell in," she said. The 
 servant closed the door behind him, and Wendell 
 advanced with outstretched hand. 
 
 "At last, Alice!" he cried. "How I have 
 longed for you ! I have been so wretched." 
 
 There was something strange in her face, but he 
 did not see it for a moment. She gave him her 
 hand mechanically, and he drew her towards him. 
 She had not yet spoken. Then he saw how grave 
 and cold her face was, and that her eyes were red 
 and the lids swollen. 
 
 " You cannot kiss me," she said. " Sit down." 
 
 " I cannot kiss you ! " he repeated, slowly, and 
 sat down with automatic obedience. " What have 
 I done ? " he faltered. 
 
 " Ask yourself," she rejoined, proudly. " I am 
 not your conscience." 
 
 " I ! " he said. " What is it ? What does this 
 mean ? You know that what I did, I did for Ar- 
 thur's sake! Did you disapprove of that? Oh, 
 you could not ! You did not ! You must have un- 
 derstood what it cost me ! " 
 
 " It was not that," she said. " You know me too 
 well to suppose that I meant that. I have thought 
 it over since, and I feel that what we did was 
 wrong. Mrs. Morton had no right to ask or accept
 
 408 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 it, and I was weak to yield to her. But I cannot 
 talk of it any more. The thing is done, and there 
 is now no help for it. But why, why," she said, 
 looking down as she spoke, " why did you accept 
 a bribe from Mrs. Morton ? You had done a thing 
 I might call falsely noble, and you took money she 
 gave you to make her feel surer of your silence ! 
 The two acts were so unlike. The one was heroic ; 
 the other I I can't understand it ! " 
 
 She had meant to ask no explanation. Now in 
 her pity she had done so ; but it was love, not 
 hope, that prompted her. 
 
 He sat looking at her downward face, while she 
 questioned him with slow, distinct utterance, seem- 
 ing at times to search for the right word. 
 
 " If you think it was wrong," he said, " it must 
 have been wrong, but Edward had promised it, and 
 I am perplexed with debts, and I had to have help. 
 You cannot conceive what misery it is to owe 
 money. I shall repay it." 
 
 "Repay!" she cried. "What you lost to get 
 this help you can never get back! Can she give 
 you again your honor ? Can you cease to be an ac- 
 complice, a paid accomplice ? You have made it 
 look like a crime. It does seem to me strange that 
 you did not see this. I cannot dare to face the 
 thought that, seeing it, you did as you have done." 
 
 He was silent. The darker guilt she did not 
 guess was scourging him with intolerable anguish, 
 as he saw himself in the clear light of her judg- 
 ment. He dreaded to hear his sentence.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 409 
 
 " What can I do," he asked, " to justify myself ? 
 I see that I was wrong. Help me to do what 
 seems right to you." 
 
 His humility appeared to her disgusting. " And 
 this," she said to herself, "this was the man I 
 loved!" 
 
 " I will send it back," he added. 
 
 " That is for you to decide," she returned, look- 
 ing at him. 
 
 " And you won't desert me, Alice ? " 
 
 " If you mean by this that you can ever again 
 be to me what you have been, you strangely misun- 
 derstand me. I could not marry a man I do not 
 respect." 
 
 "Then it is all over." 
 
 " Yes, it is all over, all but the shame and the 
 bitterness of it. And I loved you ! oh, I loved 
 you dearly; more than life, more than my soul! 
 God help me, I would give it now, this instant, to 
 be able to think of you as I once thought ! " 
 
 She was scared when she looked at him. Down 
 his face, ghastly and white, great drops of sweat 
 rolled, and his mouth twitched convulsively. He 
 was crushed by an agony of despair that seemed to 
 him to make life unendurable. It was not alone 
 the lost love that hurt him, but the fact that this 
 woman regarded him with contempt, she, so 
 gentle and so full of sweet pity for all the forms of 
 human trouble. 
 
 " And there is no hope for me ? " he moaned, 
 hoarsely.
 
 410 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 " If I said there was, I should be false," she re- 
 turned. " I meant to write to you, but you would 
 insist on seeing me, and I have said more than I 
 wanted to say. No doubt I have hurt you sorely, 
 but you are not the only one hurt." 
 
 " And I must be to you of all men the lowest." 
 
 She made no answer, feeling that she was at the 
 end of her powers of endurance. He stood up. 
 " I cannot bear your scorn. I can bear the rest ; 
 that I cannot bear ! " 
 
 Her silence tortured him beyond endurance. All 
 else in life became little to him, his name, his 
 safety, his very existence. 
 
 He spoke, and with a singular calmness : " You 
 are right ; but I am now as one facing death. I 
 had to do as I did, or resign all hopes of you. 
 That I could not do." 
 
 " What ? " she exclaimed. " What do you mean ? " 
 
 "I made the mistake that cost Edward his 
 life. I did it. I was in a hurry, as you know, to 
 reach Ann in time, and in my haste I gave Arthur 
 the wrong vial. It was I who killed him. It was 
 to be either Arthur or I ; and if I had said it was 
 I, then I knew life was over for me. It was be- 
 cause I loved you, Alice." 
 
 " And is this really true ? " she cried. " Oh, it 
 
 ^ cannot possibly be true ! You could not have lied 
 
 thus, and looked me in the face. Take it back. 
 
 Please to say it is not so. And the money, after 
 
 that, to take her money ! " 
 
 " Wrong or right," he said, " I did it for you."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 411 
 
 " For me ! For me ! He says he did it for me ! 
 How little you knew me, how less than little ! 
 If you had spoken the truth I should have clung to 
 you for life. You cannot know how I should have 
 loved you. Ah, I should have loved you as man 
 was never loved." 
 
 "And now is it over, Alice ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is over." 
 
 " Oh, my God ! " he cried, " what have I done? 
 But at least you cannot scorn me now. When you 
 think of me you will say, ' He had the courage to 
 do one right thing. He was not utterly base. ' " 
 
 " I shall pray for you," she said, softly. " I 
 shall try never to think of you except in my 
 prayers ; " and the tears rained through the hands 
 with which she hid her face. " Go," she urged ; 
 " please to go. I can bear no more. Oh, my God 
 /- the shame of it ! The shame of it ! " 
 
 "I will go," he returned; but he fell on his 
 knees beside her, and seizing her hand kissed it, 
 one long, lingering kiss. Then he rose and slowly 
 left the house. 
 
 Several days had gone by since the burial of 
 Edward, when Captain Arthur Morton took his 
 way, one afternoon, across the fields from his home 
 towards the long highway of Germantown. He 
 was on his usual visit to Hester, but was more sad 
 than common, his morning having been spent in 
 the legal business which necessarily followed his 
 brother's death. Nothing in life had so sobered
 
 412 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 him as this loss. He went along through the woods 
 of June, thinking how remorselessly the busy wa- 
 ters of life had closed over this dear one, as the sea 
 above its dead. It was in truth no common calam- 
 ity. Edward's strong individuality intensified the 
 sense of his loss to those he left; for although 
 there are many people in the world, there are but 
 few persons, and Edward's was a distinctive per- 
 sonality. 
 
 As the young soldier approached the house, he 
 saw Hester in the garden beside it tying up the 
 roses, which were now putting out anew their sum- 
 mer buds. She had dressed herself in black, and 
 the vase-like curves of her young form came out 
 sharply in the dark dress against the gray stone 
 wall. 
 
 Arthur leapt lightly over the pale fence, and if 
 the roses were of a sudden jealous they had reason 
 therefor. 
 
 The two young folks strolled down the little gar- 
 den, chatting as they went of many things : of the 
 great war, out of which he had come with little 
 scath ; of the happy future they promised them- 
 selves, and over and over returned to speak of 
 the power to love which their brother and friend 
 had possessed, of the sweetness that came out of his 
 strength, until, looking up, each saw tears in the 
 other's eyes, and owned their mysterious relief. 
 
 " And, Arty, no one loved him better than Dr. 
 Wendell." 
 
 " I am sure of that. But was it not very strange
 
 IN WAR TIME. 413 
 
 that he did not come to the funeral ? I could not 
 understand it." 
 
 " He was in bed all that day," returned Hester. 
 " I never saw a person so altered. I think he must 
 have been dreadfully shocked by Edward's death. 
 I heard him tell Miss Ann once that he ought not 
 to have been a doctor ; and I think may be he is 
 right, for Miss Ann says he broods for days when 
 any of his patients die." 
 
 " And Ned did love him well," said Arthur. " I 
 have a pleasant surprise for him, and I want you to 
 come into the house with me and find him. It may 
 do him good, poor fellow." 
 
 " And what is it, Arty? " 
 
 " That you cannot know until I tell Miss Ann. 
 Come." 
 
 " I think he needs some help. He really must 
 
 be ill. He scarcely speaks to any one. Miss Ann 
 
 went out early to-day, and came back to tell me 
 
 ~y that she has arranged with Mrs. Westerley that I 
 
 am to go to her, while Miss Ann takes the doctor 
 
 ; to the seashore a while." 
 
 " Mother has a still better plan. She has writ- 
 ten to ask Mr. Gray to let you go with her to 
 Europe in August ; and then next spring, if you are 
 a good girl, I may follow you ; and afterwards, in 
 a year, Hester, mother says in two, you will 
 consider the propriety and advantages of a resi- 
 dence in a mountain district ; Alleghanies, we may 
 say." 
 
 "Perhaps," said Hester, smiling. "How kind 
 your mother is ! "
 
 414 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 "Mother is never half anything," he returned. 
 " She fought us a good while, and now she is mak- 
 ing believe that she has won a victory. We 
 need n't contradict her. I never contradict people 
 who agree with me." 
 
 "I shall know how to escape contradiction," 
 cried Hester, laughing. " But there is Miss Ann 
 at the window ; " and as she spoke they passed 
 through the hall into the sitting-room. 
 
 " Good news, Miss Ann," cried Arthur. " I 
 wanted to be first to tell you that my dear Ned has 
 left your brother ten thousand dollars." He had 
 in reality left a letter asking Arthur to give it, 
 as he had only a life estate in his property, which 
 passed to Arthur. 
 
 " It was like him," she returned ; " and I may 
 say to you that it will be a great relief. God has 
 been good to us, and there is no one I would like 
 better to think of as helping us than your brother. 
 But here is Ezra. Please don't remark his appear- 
 ance. He has been very wretched, and he does not 
 like to have it mentioned." 
 
 Arthur was struck with the man's face. It was 
 haggard and flushed. 
 
 " Tell him about it," continued Ann ; " you will 
 like to, I am sure." 
 
 "What is it? Tell me what?" returned Wen- 
 dell, in an uninterested voice. 
 
 " Only some pleasant news," Arthur responded. 
 "I came over to say that by a provision of Ed- 
 ward's will you are to have ten thousand dollars.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 415 
 
 And we are all so glad, Hester, and I, and all 
 of us." 
 
 " He has left me ten thousand dollars ! " 
 
 Arthur was troubled. " Yes ; is n't it nice ? We 
 all owe you so much that I should like to have 
 given it myself ; only you might not like to take 
 from the living what you can take from the dead. 
 But it is as if dear Ned were thanking you for us 
 all. That is why we like it." 
 
 Wendell looked up at the speaker with a face 
 written all over with the toneless, infirm lines of 
 weariness. Then he said, in a monotonous voice, as 
 if he did not feel the meaning of his own words, 
 
 " The dead thankful ! the dead thankful ! I can't 
 take it, that 's all. I can't take it. Let me lie 
 down." 
 
 Arthur looked his amazement. "Doctor, doc- 
 tor," he said, " you are ill. It has been too much 
 for you. Why do you talk so ? " 
 
 " No, I am not sick ; I am dead. But hell is 
 alive. Go away, all of you. I want to be alone." 
 
 " Yes," said Ann, " go away. Leave him to me. 
 He will be all right in a few days. This last week 
 has been too much for him." She knew that he 
 had taken a good deal of opium, and, thinking his 
 strangeness of conduct due to this, dreaded lest he 
 should further betray himself. 
 
 Somewhat reluctantly they left her. Then Wen- 
 dell spoke : " We must get away, Ann. We must 
 go somewhere. And don't mind what I say. Tell 
 Arthur I don't mean anything. Tell him I took
 
 416 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 some morphia this morning ; and don't look at me 
 that way, Ann." 
 
 " Yes, brother," she replied uneasily ; " yes, you 
 want a change. Don't worry, dear. I will ar- 
 range it." 
 
 It was all one horrible mystery to her, this 
 last week ; but she got her brother to bed, and 
 went on at once completing her arrangements for 
 leaving town for a week or two, hoping that with 
 change of air he would become as he had been. 
 
 Within a day or two they left abruptly, without 
 leave-taking ; and the house was closed, and Hester 
 went to Alice Westerley's. 
 
 Alice found it impossible to talk of what Wen- 
 dell had told her. Some day she must do it. Just 
 now she could not make up her mind to blacken 
 further the character of the man she had loved ; but 
 being a just woman, she wrote to Helen Morton : 
 
 " I have done you a wrong, and while I have in 
 no respect changed my views as to what should 
 have been our course, I want to ask your pardon. 
 I have kept away on the plea of ill health. If you 
 can forget what I said in haste, I will come over 
 to-morrow and see you, but let us say nothing of 
 the past." 
 
 Helen Morton was too much softened by the sor- 
 row of the week to give any but a kindly answer, 
 and they were friends again, but always with a 
 sense of some vague barrier between them. We 
 may be eager enough to let the dead past bury its 
 dead passions, but at times their ghosts move sadly
 
 IN WAR TIME. 417 
 
 in the dreary graveyard of memory. Some day the 
 good priest Time shall lay them. 
 
 Late in August Mrs. Morton, Hester, and Alice 
 went abroad ; and meanwhile there came no news 
 of Wendell. In September, Ann returned. There 
 was a sudden sale of their furniture, and she went 
 as she had come, still ruddy-cheeked and quiet, and 
 betraying no sign of any suffering these months 
 may have laid upon her.
 
 XXIV. 
 
 A TEAR and more had gone by since the actors 
 in this story passed, one by one, from the quiet 
 village, which now makes a part of the great city. 
 There was a dinner, one of those debtor-and-cred- 
 itor feasts which wise men dread, at which was 
 assembled a somewhat incongruous collection of 
 
 Mr. Wilmington found, to his horror, that he 
 was assigned to Mrs. Grace, and was not sorry to 
 see, as he sat down, that the seat on his left was 
 occupied by Miss Clemson, who came in to dinner 
 on the arm of Dr. Jones, a more than middle-aged 
 man, much known as reliable ; a comfortable phy- 
 sician, too well satisfied with his art, "and so sym- 
 pathetic, my dear." 
 
 Mrs. Grace spoke to him across her neighbors as 
 soon as the soup was removed. "Whatever has 
 become of Dr. Wendell ? " she asked. 
 
 " I do not know," he returned. " He was always 
 a rolling stone, I am told. And he was a rolling 
 stone in his opinions, too. Never could hold fast 
 to anything." 
 
 " He was very strong on gout," said Wilming- 
 ton; "had some ideas about it I never heard be- 
 fore."
 
 IN WAR TIME. 419 
 
 " I dare say," rejoined Dr. Jones. 
 
 " The doctors are like dentists," murmured Miss 
 Clemson to Wilmington. " How they hate one an- 
 other; and after all people get well. It is merely 
 a question of statistics." 
 
 " May be Dr. Lagrange knows," said Mrs. Grace, 
 who pursued a personal fact as a naturalist does 
 a butterfly. Lagrange was within ear-shot across 
 the table. "We were talking of Dr. Wendell," 
 she added. " Do you know where he has gone ? I 
 always did think he went away quite mysteri- 
 ously." 
 
 "He is in the West, I believe," replied La- 
 grange ; " but why he left I do not know." 
 
 " There was always something queer about him," 
 affirmed Mrs. Grace. "I should think a doctor 
 that did n't believe in liver, or malaria, or even in 
 \y neuralgia, would n't come to much good." 
 
 "That is conclusive," said Miss Clemson. "I 
 always liked him." 
 
 " And did n't you think he would marry Alice 
 Westerley ? " returned Mrs. Grace. " I think he 
 will yet." 
 
 " It is hardly a subject for thought," said Miss 
 Clemson, severely; "but it may interest you to 
 know that Mrs. Westerley is still abroad, and has 
 so far married no one." 
 
 "I did think there was a chance for Colonel 
 Fox." 
 
 " Might do worse," growled Wilmington. 
 
 " A year is surely long enough to mourn a lost
 
 420 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 lover," returned Miss Clemson ; and then she whis- 
 pered an aside to Wilmington : " Alas, poor Sarah ! 
 You should avail yourself of the opportunity." 
 
 " I am not old enough to manage so much real 
 estate," said Wilmington, ferociously. "But do 
 you know," he added, aloud, " that we expect Arty 
 and his wife next week ? " 
 
 " Oh, that is too bad ! " exclaimed Mrs. Grace. 
 " I never heard it." 
 
 She began to feel that the world of fact was 
 evading her pursuit in some maliciously mysterious 
 way. 
 
 " You seem skeptical," said Miss Clemson ; " we 
 shall have you dubious as to the census next, Mrs. 
 Grace." 
 
 " Well, I have my opinions," returned that lady. 
 " And as to Dr. Wendell, you can say what you 
 like ; I never approved of him, and I am not sur- 
 prised at the result." 
 
 " You should have been a doctor yourself," re- 
 marked Lagrange, who said vicious things with a 
 bewildering tranquillity of manner ; " you are such 
 a good observer thrown away." 
 
 Mrs. Grace had her doubts as to this compli- 
 ment. 
 
 " And," added Miss Clemson, " it would be so 
 nice to be able to ask people their ages." 
 
 " But they would n't ever tell you the truth," 
 rejoined Mrs. Grace, thoughtfully. 
 
 " It is the absence of truth that makes social life 
 possible," said Miss Clemson.
 
 IN WAR TIME. 421 
 
 " And women agreeable ! " cried Wilmington. 
 " What a horrible sherry ! " 
 
 " Poor thing ! " cried Miss Clemson. " Let us 
 talk wine a little." 
 
 " It is better than gossip," said Wilmington, 
 sharply. 
 
 " I agree with you ; but gossip is socially valua- 
 ble, because it requires no intelligence. Even the 
 weather is lost to us now, since we have the signal 
 service. All the pleasures of doubt are being taken 
 away from us. I like it myself, and if I live long 
 enough life will become sufficiently definite to be 
 agreeable." 
 
 " Goodness ! " exclaimed Wilmington, " I wish 
 you would say all that over again to Mrs. Grace." 
 
 " Thank you, I never talk to her if I can help it. 
 It makes me feel as if I were looking at life through 
 a bad window glass. Alice Westerley was right 
 about her when she said the real chiffonniere would 
 be nicer society. Mrs. Grace does like the pursuit 
 of ragged facts." 
 
 "Oh, our dear Mrs. Westerley! I wish she 
 would come home and abuse me a little. Seriously 
 speaking, I had myself some idea that she might 
 marry Dr. Wendell. I liked the man, on the 
 whole, a good deal better than I like most Yan- 
 kees." 
 
 " I do not share your prejudices," returned Miss 
 Clemson. " He was charmingly intelligent. What 
 has become of him ? " 
 
 " Well, you know his health broke down, and I
 
 422 IN WAR TIME. 
 
 believe Fox found him quite ill and penniless at 
 Long Branch, where his sister had taken him. I 
 understand that Fox carried them off to the West, 
 and has given him a fresh start." 
 
 " It was like Mr. Fox," said Miss Clemson. " I 
 shall write Alice Westerley all about it this very 
 evening. She will be so interested." 
 
 Wilmington smiled. 
 
 " What is amusing you ? " she asked. 
 
 11 Oh, I was thinking," he replied. 
 
 Some two months after this dinner, which has 
 let us into a knowledge of the fates of some of our 
 friends, Mrs. Morton received from Ann Wendell 
 this letter : 
 
 DEAR MRS. MORTON, I have been able to 
 persuade my brother that it were well in the eyes 
 of God that he permit me to write to you, and say 
 that the death of your son Edward was owing to 
 negligence on the part of my brother, who was in 
 haste, for some cause unknown to me, and so gave 
 the wrong vial to Arthur, and did not sufficiently 
 examine as he should have done. For reasons 
 which I do not understand, my brother allowed the 
 blame to rest on Arthur, and seemed to be willing 
 to assist in concealing the truth. Now, at last, 
 having come to look at it more wisely, he is desir- 
 ous that I should tell you the truth ; and hence 
 you will see why he could not take the money which 
 would not have come to him except for the death 
 he caused.
 
 /AT WAR TIME. 423 
 
 Perhaps, now that some time has gone by, you 
 will try to forgive this great wickedness, knowing 
 that my brother is much broken in health and 
 spirit. 
 
 When Alice saw this note, a good while after it 
 was written, she had a great longing to be able to 
 say some tender words to the true, simple, honest 
 woman, who had poured out the waters of her lov- 
 ing life where the barren soil seemed to give back 
 no least return.
 
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