Justin took leave of Elfie, left his regards for Major Fielding and Lieutenant Ethel, and then entered the carriage where Britomarte and Erminie were already seated. A half hour’s rapid driving brought them to the steamboat wharf, which was now a scene of great excitement. The troops were embarking; and a great number of people—relatives, friends and even mere acquaintances were assembled to see them off. The regiments were embarked by companies. And while one company would be passing on to the boat in files, those remaining on the wharf were “at rest.” Some were devouring fruit and cakes at the stands on the grounds; some buying papers of the newsboys, who were crying the last victory; some were shaking hands with friends; and others, many others, were bidding good-bye to mothers, wives, sisters, or sweethearts, assembled there, “to see the last of them.” In the crowd one boy attracted Britomarte’s attention. Though he wore the uniform of a soldier, he did not seem to be more than fifteen years of age. A bright, spirited-looking lad he was, but he seemed quite alone in that crowd. No one accosted him, and he spoke to none. Britomarte watched him with some interest. “He belongs to my company,” said Justin. Britomarte and Erminie now got out of their carriage and stood with Justin, until the company immediately before his own fell into order to embark. Then it was the turn of Justin’s company to form. “I must leave you now, Erminie! be a woman, my little girl!” said Justin, hastily but fervently pressing his sister to his bosom. “God bless you! Oh! God bless you, my brother!” she cried, trying hard to swallow and keep down her sobs and tears. “Good-bye, Britomarte!” said Justin, solemnly, giving her his hand. “Good-bye! May God strengthen your arm, and preserve your life in the battle, and send you back with victory! Good-bye!” she answered, wringing his hand and dropping it, and turning away her head to hide the strong emotion all but too manifest in her countenance. A sigh reached her ear, and then the piteous words: “Well, there is no one in the world to bid _me_ good-bye, or ask God to bless me. Oh, well, so much the better may be, for if I’m killed there’ll be nobody’s feelings hurt.” Britomarte looked up. It was the lonely boy who had spoken, and now he stood there with a smile that was more touching than tears could have been. Britomarte’s pity moved for the friendless lad. “Yes, my boy, _I_ will bid you good-bye, and pray God to bless you, and to bring you back to us safe!” she said, taking the lad’s hand, stooping and pressing a kiss upon his brow. Justin saw it all; but not a shade of jealousy clouded his own mind. He understood Britomarte too well. “God bless you for that, noble woman!” he whispered. “I will look after the lad as though he were my younger brother, or _yours_.” And these were Justin’s parting words to Britomarte.