“Heaven grant that you may! But now see!” she said, slipping the ring firmly upon her finger, and adding—“I will never leave you more, Albert, never, never.” “Ah, my poor girl! I always knew you loved your ‘traitor,’ although you hated his treason!” exclaimed Goldsborough, feebly raising the ringed hand, and pressing it to his lips. At that moment the surgeon, in making his rounds, came up to Goldsborough’s bed. At a short distance he was followed by Miss Rosenthal and one of the nurses in close consultation. While the surgeon was feeling the pulse of his patient, Elfie was straining her ears to catch the words of the conversation between Miss Rosenthal and the nurse. At length, as they drew nearer, she heard the latter say: “No, Miss, the surgeon seems to think there is no hope in the world for his life! His death is but the question of a few days or hours.” Elfie knew that the hospital nurse was speaking of Albert Goldsborough, and though, from his appearance, she might have been prepared, and perhaps was prepared, to hear such a sentence, yet for an instant her senses reeled and she caught the back of the chair for support. Then with an effort she recovered her self-control, and turned her eyes on the face of the assistant surgeon, who was still examining his patient, and tried to read in its expression some reversal of the nurse’s sentence. But the surgeon’s face was quite impassible. Presently, however, he looked up and addressed Elfie. “Young lady, I do not wish to be discourteous,” he said, very gently, “but my patient’s condition demands the strictest quiet, and will not admit of his seeing visitors. Therefore, I must request you to retire.” For all answer, Elfie deliberately arose and took off her gloves, mantle, and bonnet, and laid them on the empty chair. And then, while the surgeon was staring at her as if to see what she would do next, she answered firmly: “No, doctor, I cannot leave him. I must remain with him until—until he leaves the hospital.” “But, my dear young lady—” “Say no more, doctor. I _will_ not leave him. My place is by his side. I am his wife.” And so saying, she came to the side of the cot and placed her hand in that of the dying man, who closed his wan fingers over it, and raised his eyes, full of unspeakable love, to her pitying face. In the utmost perplexity, the surgeon turned towards Miss Rosenthal for an explanation. “Yes, doctor,” said Erminie, gravely and sweetly, “she has a right to stay with him. She is his wife.” CHAPTER XXXII. “THE REBEL RIDES ON HIS RAIDS NO MORE.”