They were three years old, these memories, now glimmering alive again amid the whitening ashes of the past; only three years--and centuries seemed to dim the landmarks and bar the backward path that she was following to her girlhood! She thought of the white-pillared house as it stood at the beginning of the war; the severing of old ties, the averted faces of old friends and neighbors; the mortal apprehension, endless suspense; the insurgent flags fluttering from porch and portico along the still, tree-shaded street; her own heart-breaking isolation in the community when Sumter fell--she an orphan, alone there with her brother and bedridden grandfather. And she remembered the agony that followed the news from Bull Run, the stupor that fell upon her; the awful heat of that battle summer; her evening prayers, kneeling there beside her brother; the red moons that rose, enormous, menacing, behind the trees; and the widow bird calling, calling to the dead that never answer more. Her dead? Why _hers_? A chance regiment passing--cavalry wearing the uniform and number of the Fourth Missouri. Ah! she could see them again, sun-scorched, dusty, fours crowding on fours, trampling past. She could see a young girl in white, fastening the long-hidden flag to its halyards as the evening light faded on the treetops!... And then--and then--_he_ came--into her life, into her house, into her heart, alas!--tall, lean, calm-eyed, yellow-haired, wrapped in the folds of his long, blue mantle!... And she saw him again--a few moments before his regiment charged into that growling thunder beyond the hills somewhere. And a third time, and the last, she saw him, deathly still, lying on her own bed, and a medical officer pulling the sheet up over his bony face. * * * * * The colonel of the Fourth Missouri was looking curiously at her; she started, cleared the dimness from her eyes, and steadied the trembling underlip. After a moment's silence the colonel said: "You undertake this duty willingly?" She nodded, quietly touching her eyes with her handkerchief. "There is scarcely a chance for you," he observed with affected carelessness. She lifted her shoulders in weary disdain of that persistent shadow called danger, which had long since become too familiar to count very heavily. "I am not afraid--if that is what you mean. Do you think you can get me through?" The colonel said coolly: "I expect to do my part. Have you a rebel uniform?" She nodded. "Where is it?" "On me--under this." The colonel looked at her; a slight shudder passed over him. "These orders suggest that I start before sunset," he said. "Meanwhile this tent is yours. My orderly will serve you. The regiment will move out about sunset with some six hundred sabres and Gray's Rhode Island flying battery." He walked to the tent door; she followed. "Is that your horse?" he asked. "Yes, Colonel." "Fit for the work?" turning to look at her. "Yes, sir."