“I think I will go, Elfie; and I do hope I shall feel better; for to-morrow we must make our rounds of the hospitals, and also look up Britomarte, unless she should first make her appearance here,” said Erminie, rising from the tea table. And soon after this the girls retired. CHAPTER VIII. ABOUT BRITOMARTE. Your wisdom may declare, That womanhood is proved the best, By golden brooch and glossy vest, That mincing ladies wear. Yet it is proved and was of old, Anear as well—I dare to hold By truth, or by despair.—E. B. BROWNING. Early the following morning Erminie arose very much refreshed and invigorated by a good night’s rest. After breakfast, accompanied by Elfie, she went the rounds of the hospitals. At two o’clock she sent Elfie home, while she herself went to Britomarte’s boarding-house. A sickening presentiment of evil overcame her as she entered the little gate, walked up to the door and rapped. Mrs. Burton opened the door. “Oh, Miss Rosenthal! how do you do? I have been hoping that you would call. Please to come in,” said the mistress of the house. “Mrs. Burton, how is Miss Conyers? Is she quite well?” anxiously inquired Erminie, as she followed the widow into the little parlor. “Why, my darling child, she is gone,” answered Mrs. Burton, as she sat a chair for her visitor. “Gone!” echoed Erminie, in dismay, sinking into the offered seat, and gazing at the speaker. “Yes, my dear—gone. She has been gone these three days.” “And without taking leave of me!” said Erminie, in a sorrowful voice. “My dear, she left a letter for you. And I ought to have sent it over before this. But you see I had nobody to send it by but one of my daughters. And we are all so busy working upon a lot of havelocks that _must_ be finished by Saturday, that we can’t take time to eat or sleep, or hardly to say our prayers. But I did mean to steal time to bring the letter over to you this blessed evening. I will go and get it now,” said the widow, leaving the room. “Gone! I can scarcely realize it. Though indeed she has often hinted to me that she might leave the city at any moment,” said Erminie, as she arose to receive the letter from the landlady when the latter returned to the room and put it into her hand. Britomarte’s letter was dated on the very evening of the day on which Justin’s regiment had marched. It was written in Miss Conyers’ usually firm and clear chirography, and ran thus: