"You must not get angry now, I can tell you. That would never do at all. I FORBID it." "There, there now, Doctor, I won't, doggone me ef I will," Nichol protested anxiously. Mr. Kemble met them at the door, and the captain recognized him instantly. "Why, yere's that sensible ole feller what didn't want to ast no questions," he exclaimed. "You are right, Captain Nichol, I have no questions to ask." "Well, ef folks wuz all like you I'd have a comf't'ble time" "Come with me, Captain," said the physician, leading the way into the parlor. Mr. Kemble silently ushered Mr. and Mrs. Nichol into the sitting-room on the opposite side of the hall and placed them in the care of his wife. He then went into the back parlor in which was Helen, now quiet as women so often are in emergencies. Through a slight opening between the sliding-door she looked, with tightly clasped hands and parted lips, at her lover. At first she was conscious of little else except the overwhelming truth that before her was one she had believed dead. Then again surged up with blinding force the old feeling which had possessed her when she saw him last--when he had impressed his farewell kiss upon her lips. Remembering the time for her to act was almost at hand, she became calm--more from the womanly instinct to help him than from the effort of her will. Dr. Barnes said to Nichol, "Look around. Don't you think you have seen this room before? Take your time and try to remember." The captain did as he was bidden, but soon shook his head. "Hit's right purty, but I don't reckerlect." "Well, sit down here, then, and look at that picture. Who is it?" "Why, hit's me--me dressed up as cap'n," ejaculated Nichol, delightedly. "Yes, that was the way you looked and dressed before you were wounded." "How yer talk! This beats anythin' I ever yeared from the Johnnies." "Now, Captain Nichol, you see we are not deceiving you. We called you captain. There's your likeness, taken before you were hurt and lost your memory, and you can see for yourself that you were a captain. You must think how much there is for you to try to remember. Before you went to the war, long before you got hurt, you gave this likeness of yourself to a young lady that you thought a great deal of. Can't you recall something about it?" Nichol wrinkled his scarred forehead, scratched his head, and hitched uneasily in his chair, evidently making a vain effort to penetrate the gloom back of that vague awakening in the Southern hospital. At last he broke out in his usual irritation, "Naw, I kyant, doggon--" "Hush! you must not use that word here. Don't be discouraged. You are trying; that's all I ask," and the doctor laid a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Now, Captain, I'll just step in the next room. You think quietly as you can about the young lady to whom you gave that picture of yourself."