Atlanta--In the field, July 21, 1864. My Dear Peyton:--I am oppressed with a strange unrest about my child! I do not fear to meet death to-morrow. I feel it will take me away from my sadness. I am ready. Our flag is falling. I do not wish to live to see it in the dust. But I am a father. As I honor you, for the brotherhood of our life together, I charge you to watch over my child. Hardin is old; something might happen to him. I forgot a second appointment in the will; I name you as co-executor with him. Show him this. It is my dying wish. He is a man of honor. I have left all my estate to my beloved child, Isabel Valois. It is only right; the property came by my marriage with my wife, her dead mother. In the case of the death of my child, search out the heirs of Judge Valois and see the property fairly divided among them. Hardin is the soul of honor, and will aid you in all. I desire this to be a codicil to my will, and regarded as such. I could not ask you to ride out again for me this wild night before my last battle. The will you witnessed, is the necessary act of the death of my wife. If you live through the war, never forget Your friend and comrade, MAXIME VALOIS. P.S. If you go to California, look up Joe Woods. He is as true a man as ever breathed, and would be kind to my little girl. Padre Francisco Ribaut married me at Lagunitas to my Dolores. Good-bye and good-night. M.V. The men gaze at each other across the table, touched by this solemn voice sweeping down the path of dead years. That lonely grave by the lines of Atlanta seemed to have opened to a dead father's love. Peyton saw the past in a new light. Valois' reckless gallantry that day was an immolation. His wife's death had unsettled him. Joe Woods' rugged breast heaved in sorrow as he said, "Peyton, I will stand by that child. So help me, God! And he thought of me at the last--he thought of me!" The old miner chokes down a rising sob. Both are in tears. "Look here, Colonel!" said Woods briskly. "This will never do! You will want to cheer up a little, for your trip, you know." "Trip?" says the wondering Virginian. "Why, yes," innocently remarks Joseph Woods. "You are going to New Orleans to look up about the Valois boy. Then you are to see those bankers at Havana, and get proof before the Consul-General about the documents. I want you to send your affidavit to me. I've got a lawyer in New York, who is a man. I'll write him. You can tell him all. I'm coming on there soon. After you get to New York from Havana, you will go to Paris and stay there till I come." Peyton smiles even in his sadness. "That's a long journey, but I am yours, Colonel. Why do I go to Paris?" "You are going to answer the letter of that dead man," impressively remarks Joseph. "How?" murmurs Peyton.