"'What, Paul, desert your State in her hour of need? Never! You, a Southern man? Your interests, your honor, are with us.' "Much passed between us; when he, laughingly, said: "'Go in and see sister; she will talk you out of this whim.' "I cannot tell you how she first coaxed, then argued, then chided me with not loving her, and then came--oh, such contempt! You have no idea of the trial to me. She talked as only a Southern girl talks--so proud, so unyielding. And when I said: "'Let us part at least friends. Say God bless me, for the sake of the past!' "'No,' she said, 'no friend. With a traitor to his State, or a coward--no, I will never say God bless you! and never do you take my name on your lips from this day. I would die of shame to have it known that I was ever loved by an Arnold! Go! leave me; and if you raise your arm against the South, I hope you may not live to feel the shame which will follow you.' "I met Harry again on the lawn, and he exclaimed: "'Good-by, Paul. Give us your hand. You are honest, and will sacrifice everything, I see; but you are all wrong. God bless you! "And he threw his arms round me, and so I left them. "I cannot tell you how I suffered. It seems as if I have lived a century since then. Did I not know the unbounded pride of a Southern girl, I should doubt her ever loving me. I have never mentioned her name since that day, and never shall. Now, my friend, you see I have little to live for. Soon after my arrival in Boston the Sixteenth was forming. I enlisted, to the horror of my aunt, as a private. My friend would have procured me a commission, but I preferred to go in the ranks and work my way up if I lived, and here is my commission, received after you left yesterday. I brought my colonel off the field, and was wounded when I went to get him. It is a first lieutenant's; but I fear I shall never wear my straps." "Yes, you will. You are getting better slowly, but surely; and, my friend, you must cheer up--believe 'He doeth all things well'--have faith--live for your country. I feel that all will be well with you yet. 'Hope on, hope ever.'" I went and saw Dr. B.; told him it was as I had thought. I gave him an idea of the trouble and left. I had become so much interested in Ashton that I had almost ceased my visits to the other hospitals, except an occasional one to the "Armory Square," where I had a few friends. I thought I would go over and make a visit there this afternoon. I went into ward C, and, after seeing how well my boys were getting on, I inquired after the lady nurse, Mrs. A., a widow lady, to whom I had become much attached for her devotion to the soldiers. "She has gone home to recruit her health; has been away ten days; she left the day after you were here last," replied one of the boys. "But we have, just think, in her place a lady from the South--Miss or Mrs., indeed I do not know which, for I have never heard her spoken of other than Emma Mason. But here she comes."