“Heaven bless your tender conscience! You seem to me to have done your duty by everybody. You didn’t invite the guerrilla’s wife to your house. She walked in upon you, told you that she had taken the oath of allegiance, and you received her kindly and treated her well. She left you under such suspicious circumstances—I know they must have been suspicious, else you would have had nothing to tell the Provost Marshal—that your pastor, on hearing of it, insisted that you should lodge information in the proper quarters, and actually took you off to do it. So why you should reproach yourself _I_ don’t know.—Yes, Catherine, tea immediately.” This last to the parlor maid who answered the bell. Tea was soon served. “And now I hope you will try to eat a little. Lord knows, between the saints and the sinners, you can scarcely call your body or soul your own,” said Elfie, as she sat down and began to wait on Erminie—pouring our her tea and placing the wing and breast of the broiled chicken on her plate. “Thanks, Elfie; but help yourself, my dearest,” urged Erminie. “Oh, I can’t eat. I had my dinner so late and ate then so heartily, having fasted so long, that I can’t touch a morsel now. I will have a cup of tea, however,” said Elfie. “Britomarte has not been here this afternoon?” inquired Erminie. “No.” “I am very uneasy about her.” “Oh, of course,” grumbled Elfie. “Some one or other of your friends are always making you uneasy, plague take them!” “But, Elfie, I am afraid she is ill.” “Mrs. Burton would have sent you word.” “Yes, I hope she would. And then, to be sure, I have no more reason to wonder at her mysterious absence than my poor soldiers have to wonder at mine. Oh, Elfie, think of it! I never missed a day visiting them before, and now three days have passed since I have been to see them. What will the poor fellows think?” sighed Erminie. “Whatever they think, it will not be to the effect that you are neglecting them. Perhaps they fancy that you are a little worn with your exertions in their behalf, and they hope to see you soon again.” “Oh, Elfie! many a poor fellow that _I_ hoped to see again has passed away in these three days, I know. They die every day. No day do I go without missing some familiar face,” sighed Erminie. “See here, my dear! your pretty shoulders are tolerably fine ones for a young woman. But I doubt if they are so strong as to be able to bear the burdens of all the world. You have done what you could for the brave fellows. Continue to do what you can; and for the rest trust them to their Heavenly Father and ours, you weeping philosopher,” said Elfie. “That is good advice, dear; and I will try to follow it. I am no weeping philosopher, Elfie. But to-night I believe I am despondent because broken down by the events of the last twenty-four hours.” “Then you must go to bed and try to get some sleep. In the morning you will feel better.”