“I have written this long letter under difficulties, and at various times.  I have omitted many particulars, which I will try to remember in my next.  Enclosed is a note for Rose-mother.  I hold you all in most affectionate remembrance.”

Soon after the reception of this letter, news came of the defeat at Bull Run, followed by tidings that Gerald was among the slain.  Mr. King immediately waited upon Mrs. Fitzgerald to offer any services that he could render, and it was agreed that he should forthwith proceed to Washington with her cousin, Mr. Green.  They returned with a long wooden box, on which was inscribed Gerald’s name and regiment.  It was encased in black walnut without being opened, for those who loved him dreaded to see him, marred as he was by battle.  It was carried to Stone Chapel, where a multitude collected to pay the last honors to the youthful soldier.  A sheathed sword was laid across the coffin, on which Mrs. Fitzgerald placed a laurel wreath.  Just above it, Mrs. King deposited a wreath of white roses, in the centre of which Eulalia timidly laid a white lily.  A long procession followed it to Mount Auburn, with a band playing Beethoven’s Funeral March.  Episcopal services were performed at the grave, which friends and relatives filled with flowers; and there, by the side of Mr. Bell, the beautiful young man was hidden away from human sight.  Mr. King’s carriage had followed next to Mrs. Fitzgerald’s; a circumstance which the public explained by a report that the deceased was to have married his daughter.  Mrs. Fitzgerald felt flattered to have it so understood, and she never contradicted it.  After her great disappointment in her husband, and the loss of her other children, all the affection she was capable of feeling had centred in Gerald.  But hers was not a deep nature, and the world held great sway over it.  She suffered acutely when she first heard of her loss; but she found no small degree of soothing compensation in the praises bestowed on her young hero, in the pomp of his funeral, and the general understanding that he was betrothed to the daughter of the quatro-millionnaire.

The depth of Mrs. King’s sorrow was known only to Him who made the heart.  She endeavored to conceal it as far as possible, for she felt it to be wrong to cast a shadow over the home of her husband and daughter.  Gerald’s likeness was placed in her chamber, where she saw it with the first morning light; but what were her reveries while she gazed upon it was told to no one.  Custom, as well as sincere sympathy, made it necessary for her to make a visit of condolence to Mrs. Fitzgerald.  But she merely took her hand, pressed it gently, and said, “May God comfort you.”  “May God comfort you, also,” replied Mrs. Fitzgerald, returning the pressure; and from that time henceforth the name of Gerald was never mentioned between them.

After the funeral it was noticed that Alfred Blumenthal appeared abstracted, as if continually occupied with grave thoughts.  One day, as he stood leaning against the window, gazing on the stars and stripes that floated across the street, he turned suddenly and exclaimed:  “It is wrong to be staying here.  I ought to be fighting for that flag.  I must supply poor Gerald’s place.”