"I've a letter from her here--read it before you write. Our little girl had malaria. She tried willow tea and everything she could think of for the chills. The doctor said nothin' but quinine could save her. She couldn't get it, the blockade was too tight, and so our baby died--and now I'm dyin' and my poor starvin' girl will have nothin' to comfort her--but--" He gasped and lifted himself on his elbow. "If our folks can just quit free men, it's all right. It's all right!" The women and children of Richmond were suffering now for food. The Thirteenth Virginia regiment sent Billy Barton into the city with a contribution for their relief. Billy delivered it to Jennie with more than a boy's pride. There was something bigger in the quiet announcement he made. "Here's one day's rations from the regiment, sis," he said--"all our flour, pork, bacon and meal. The boys are fasting to-day. It's their love offering to those we've left at home--" Jennie kissed him. "It's beautiful of you and your men, boy. Give my love to them all and tell them I'm proud to be their countrywoman--" "And they're proud of their country and their General, too--maybe you wouldn't believe it--but every regiment in Lee's army has reenlisted for the war." She seized Billy's hand. "Come with me--I want you to see the President and tell him what your regiment has done. It'll help him." As they approached the White House a long, piercing scream came through the open windows. "What on earth?" Jennie exclaimed. "An accident of some kind," the boy answered, seizing her arm and hurrying forward. Every window and door of the big lonely house set apart on its hill swung wide open, the lights streaming through them, the wind blowing the curtains through the windows. The lights blazed even in the third story. Mrs. Burton Harrison, the wife of the President's Secretary, met them at the door, her eyes red with weeping. She pressed Jennie's hand. "Little Joe has been killed--" "Mrs. Davis' beautiful boy--impossible!" "He climbed over the bannisters and fell to the brick pavement and died a few minutes after his mother reached his side--" The girl could make no answer. She had come on a sudden impulse to cheer the lonely leader of her people. Perhaps his need in this dark hour had called her. She thought of Socola's story of his mother's vision and wondered with a sudden pang of self-pity where the man she loved was to-night. This beautiful child, named in honor of his favorite brother, was the greatest joy of the badgered soul of the Confederate leader. Suddenly his white face appeared at the head of the stairs. A courier had come from the battlefield with an important dispatch. Grant and Lee were locked in their death grapple in the Wilderness. He would try even in this solemn hour to do his whole duty. He passed the sympathetic group murmuring a sentence whose pathos brought the tears again to Jennie's eyes. "Not my will, O Lord, but thine--thine--thine!"