"So I am, especially detailed by our commander-in-chief to look after the comfort and welfare of a certain gentleman, a civilian in name, but so active an inspector of military operations that I cannot often keep track of him unless I'm under fire myself, and also the welfare of two volunteer nurses who are in great danger of letting their zeal outrun their strength. No, I am wrong; I am in charge of only one nurse; she takes care of the other. It is you whom the General has in mind." Never was Archdale's tact finer and more opportune. After the smouldering passion of Edmonson, felt if not yet confessed to herself, the ease and safety of this companionship seemed to her like the difference between the air of the tents hot and heavy with unhealthy breaths, and the salt wind that came to her softly now, but with invigorating freshness. "I haven't the least idea where my father is," she said. "I suppose he is so used to business that he must have always something on hand." "He is with the General now," he said. "There is one walk I wish you would invite me to take," said Elizabeth, as they sauntered away. "Into the city, I mean." And for a moment she forgot the cost of victory in its exultation. "I will," he answered. "Will you come, then?" "Certainly." They reached the brook and followed it up a little distance above the camp. Elizabeth sat down upon the bank, and Archdale filled his cup and brought it to her. She examined it by the dim light. "I see that it is silver, and chased," she said. "But I can't make out the figures upon it." "The Archdale arms," he answered. "I brought the cup with me. It's my canteen." She drank and gave it back to him. "Thank you," she said. As she spoke, a shot rose high in air and ended its parabola in the heart of the doomed city. It seemed as if a cry uprose. Elizabeth shuddered. "How dreadful it is!" "You will never forget it," he answered.