Do not cheat her heart and tell her, “Grief will pass away, Hope for fairer times in future, And forget to-day”— Tell her, if you will, that sorrow Need not come in vain; Tell her that the lesson taught her Far outweighs the pain.—A. A. PROCTOR. So Elfie was permitted to remain in the ward and nurse her husband. There was no provision in the hospital for extra nurses, and every woman who came to attend the sick bed of husband, son or brother, had to take the chance of catching a wink of sleep or a mite of food or drop of drink as best she could. As Erminie was about to take leave of her friend, she stooped and whispered: “You do well to remain, dear Elfie, but there are no accommodations for you here, so I will send Bob back with such comforts as I think you will be most likely to need, and I will also speak to Sister Agnes to let you have the use of her dormitory sometimes, and I hope your health will not suffer.” “Thanks! a thousand heartfelt thanks, dear Erminie, for all your kindness, and above all, for the greatest kindness of not blaming me for this,” said Elfie. “My poor girl, I never shall dream of blaming you now,” murmured Miss Rosenthal, turning away to conceal her emotion. While they had been speaking, Albert Goldsborough, with his hand clasped in Elfie’s, had dropped into one of those light and fitful slumbers that attend the dying. When Erminie had left her, Elfie remained holding the hand of the sinking man until he awoke with a start, and looking up at her with a smile, murmured faintly: “Yes, you are there. It is no dream. You are there.” “Yes, I am here, never to leave you again, Albert.” “But let me keep hold of your hand, so that if I drop asleep again, I may know, even in my dreams, that I have you.” She gave him both her hands, caressing his, and looking on him with unspeakable tenderness. “Elfie, my darling,” he murmured,—“when I look at you so, and think how I wronged you, it almost breaks my heart! I am sorry! I am sorry!” “Albert, dear, don’t look so! don’t speak so! You have done _me_ no wrong at all—none, none, I say. But if—if——” “If what, Elfie?” “Oh! if I could only hear you say—say——” “Say what, my darling girl?” “Say that—that you are sorry—sorry for taking up arms against your native land!” sobbed Elfie. With a spasm of pain Goldsborough turned his face to the wall. “Oh, Albert! I would give my life this day to hear you say that, and say it truly! Heaven knows I would! I would! my own love!” cried Elfie, sobbing as if her heart would burst; yet knowing that such indulgence of emotion was wrong in herself and injurious to the wounded man, and trying hard to compose herself. With difficulty Goldsborough turned his head and shoulders, the half of his body that he could move, around towards her and faced her again.