Britomarte was now so closely engaged that she seldom got time to spend an evening at the parsonage. Something like a fortnight had elapsed since that evening when she had taken tea with Erminie, and laughed at Justin for his mere camp promotions; and since then she had not visited their house. One afternoon she sat diligently sewing on a coarse blue jacket, when Mrs. Burton came up to her room and told her that there was an old colored man below asking to speak to her. She went down stairs and found Uncle Bob, who handed her a note from Erminie. It was very short, and ran thus: “_Dear Britomarte, please come to me at once, for I am in great distress._ ERMINIE.” “What is the matter, Uncle Bob?” she inquired. “Ma’am?” “Is there anything amiss at your house?” “No, ma’am, not as I knows of. Miss Erminie is crying, but I aint heern no bad news.” Britomarte ran up to her room, and put on her bonnet and shawl, and came down and joined the old servant, and started for the parsonage. But her fleet steps soon distanced his feeble ones, and she arrived at the house first, and hurried immediately to the library, where she found Erminie in tears. “What is it all, my dearest?” inquired Miss Conyers, throwing off her bonnet and shawl, and taking Erminie in her arms. “Oh, Britomarte, I have no courage at all when the test comes,” sobbed Erminie, dropping her head upon the bosom of her friend. “But what is it, dearest?” again inquired Miss Conyers, with a misgiving heart. “Oh, can’t you imagine? Oh, Britomarte, the brigade has marching orders at last. It is to leave in the boats this evening.” Even Britomarte for an instant reeled under the blow, but in another she rallied and replied: “That is well. We don’t want any more camp heroes, Erminie.” “But it is so sudden. True, we were expecting this, or rather hearing of it, every day. But it had got to be an old story. I began to think that the brigade would remain in the forts, when about an hour ago came an orderly sergeant with this note from Justin—listen to it,” said Erminie, unfolding a little note and reading: Head Quarters of the —— Fort —— “MY DEAREST SISTER:—We have received our marching orders. We go by the six o’clock boats this afternoon. I will try to see you before we leave. If I cannot get to the house, will you be at the wharf? And as you love me, send for Britomarte, and prevail on her to remain with you at the house, or accompany you to the wharf, as the case may require. Heaven bless you both. JUSTIN.” “It is now two o’clock. Shall you stay here or go to the wharf?” inquired Britomarte, in a tremulous tone.