The grave of Sister Winifred was, unhappily, not destined to remain solitary. In the early spring of 1856--to anticipate the sequence of our narrative a little--another funeral was seen wending its way, to the chanting of priests, up the hills of Balaclava. It was the body of Sister Mary Elizabeth, who had died of fever, caught amongst the patients of her ward. Our informant, Sister Mary Aloysius, thus describes the death scene as it occurred amid a storm which threatened to unroof the wooden hut where the dying sister lay: “It was a wild, wild night. The storm and wind penetrated the chinks so as to extinguish the lights, and evoked many a prayer that the death-bed might not be left roofless. It was awful beyond description to kneel beside her during these hours of her passage and to hear the solemn prayers for the dead and dying mingling with the howling of the winds and the creaking of the frail wooden hut. Oh, never, never can any of us forget that night: the storm disturbed all but her, that happy being for whom earth’s joys and sorrows were at an end, and whose summons home had not cost her one pang or one regret.” They buried Sister Mary Elizabeth beside Sister Winifred, and the 89th Regiment requested the honour of carrying the coffin. Hundreds of soldiers lined the way in triple lines from the hospital to the hut where the body lay, and a procession of various nationalities and differing faiths followed the body to its lonely resting place on the rocky ledge of Balaclava heights. Later, when the graves of the two sisters were visited, it was found that flowers and evergreens were growing in that lonely spot, planted by the hands of the soldiers they had tended. On the white cross of Sister Winifred’s grave was found a paper, on which were written the following lines:-- Still green be the willow that grows on the mountain, And weeps o’er the grave of the sister that’s gone; * * * * * And most glorious its lot to point out to the stranger, The hallowed remains of the sainted and blest; For those angels of mercy that dared every danger To bring to the soldier sweet comfort and rest. It was discovered that these lines had been composed and placed there by one of Sister Winifred’s orderlies. CHAPTER XVII _SAILS FOR THE CRIMEA AND GOES UNDER FIRE_ On Board the _Robert Lowe_--Story of a Sick Soldier--Visit to the Camp Hospitals--Sees Sebastopol from the Trenches--Recognised and Cheered by the Soldiers--Adventurous Ride Back. The walls grew weak; and fast and hot Against them pour’d the ceaseless shot, With unabating fury sent, From battery to battlement; And thunder-like the pealing din Rose from each heated culverin: And here and there some crackling dome Was fired before th’ exploding bomb. BYRON.