We felt like clinging to Walter and holding him back. I for one had lost my nerve. I was sick of war, sick of the butchery, the anguish, the running hither and thither, the fear. Soon after supper my husband came in. I was tremblingly glad to see him again, to touch his warm living body, to see that he was not maimed and mutilated--yet it hung over me all the time that he must go away in a few minutes--to come back, or be brought back--how? I kept my hand on him all the time he sat beside me. Every time he moved I trembled, feeling that it was a move to go. “What are you doing out here?” he asked; “I thought you were at Miss Anne’s and went there for you.” “We left there.” “What for?” “The shells were flying all around us, and we were afraid, and ran out here, I tell you.” “Afraid? Why, Nell, _you_ weren’t afraid?” “Yes, I am--I’m terrified.” “A soldier’s wife--a regular campaigner!” “I can’t help it. I’m scared.” “After all you’ve been through, like the brave girl you are, to break down like a coward!” “I can’t help what you call me, I’m scared--I’m scared to death.” “Nell, I’m ashamed of you.” “I can’t help it, Dan; I’m scared.” “What would General Stuart say if he could know?” “I don’t care what he would think. I’m terrified. I’m going to run from those shells as long as there is a place to run to. I’m not going to stand still and let a shell strike me to please anybody. I’m for getting away from town. If I had my way we’d take to the woods this night, and let the Yankees have it.” “They’d mighty soon find us in the woods.” “Then I’d move on. They can have everywhere they come to now, as far as I am concerned.” Dan looked aghast. I was completely demoralized. Knowing he _must_ go, I summoned all my strength and braced myself for the parting, but though Dan was sorry for me, my effort to be brave was so comical that he had to laugh. By morning the range of the guns was changed, shells were flying all over the city, and our present quarters were not exempt. Zip! zip! crack! bang! the nasty things went everywhere. We piled ourselves, pell-mell, helter-skelter into the first ambulance we could get and started out Washington Street again as fast as ever we could get the driver to urge his horses. Everybody was racing out Washington Street, still running west. Pell-mell, helter-skelter, they ran, any way to get out of the range of the horrid, whizzing, singing, zipping bombs. We met Mr. McIlvaine driving toward town, that is, in the direction from which we were running. He hailed us. “Where are you going?” “We don’t know where we are going. We are not going anywhere that we know of.” “Go to my house. My family are away, but I can make you welcome. Quite a number of people are out there now.” We found this to be the literal truth. All the floors were covered with mattresses--if you rolled off your own mattress you rolled on to some one else’s, for they were laid so thick that they touched. But things might always be worse.