The troops were in the highest spirits, and all were anxious to press on to drive General Proctor from Malden.

The day had been cold, and Fernando was wearied with long marches through snow, ice and mud.  The ground was covered with snow which had but a thin frozen crust over it, and the soldiers frequently broke through, especially in the swampy regions they crossed.  Their second lieutenant was sick; the first lieutenant, being wounded, was left behind, and the management of the company fell upon Captain Rose and his orderly sergeant, Fernando Stevens.

Captain Rose, though a brave man, loved his ease and comfort, so the most irksome duty fell upon the orderly.  He saw that quarters as comfortable as were possible were made for the men.  Boards, canvas, brush and everything possible to make a shelter were provided.  The wintry sky was clear, and when night came on the stars came out one by one.  The moon shone on the snow-covered earth, so soon to be crimsoned with patriotic blood.

Fernando Stevens and Captain Rose were quartered in an old shed building, with a roaring fire in the broad fireplace.  Their quarters were quite comfortable, and, after having made all the necessary arrangements for the company’s comfort, Fernando partook of a light supper and, wrapping himself in a blanket, lay down on the left side of the broad fireplace to sleep.  Corporal Mott entered and told Captain Rose, who sat smoking his pipe, that Colonels Wells and Lewis were having some trouble about their positions.

“Why should they quarrel over that?” asked Captain Rose taking his pipe from his mouth.

“Wells, who is colonel of regulars, claims to outrank Lewis, and demands to be posted on the right.”

“That’s in an open field.”

“Yes; Lewis thinks that, in case of an attack, Wells should be posted in some gardens on the left.”

“Lewis knows more about it than Wells or Winchester either,” growled Captain Rose.

“Yes; but Winchester decided in favor of Wells.  There is also a rumor that Proctor is on his way from Malden to attack us.”

“I hope it is so,” said Captain Rose.  “If he will come here and take his whipping like a man, it will save us going to Malden to give it to him.”

Then they wondered what General Harrison was doing and when they would join him; but Fernando left off listening to their conversation and gazed into the glowing fire before which he lay stretched on his blanket.

His mind was busy with his own sad life.  All through the long years of trying events, he had never forgotten Morgianna.  Her sweet face had haunted him while a slave on the British war-ship.  In the camp, or on the battle field, she was ever near him.  A thousand times he had said to himself: 

“Oh, why can I not forget her?  Morgianna is nothing to me.  No doubt, long ere this she has married Lieutenant Matson and is happy.  May God bless her in her happiness, and may Heaven spare her husband.”