For half an hour we sat thus talking, the Doctor doing the most of it, and giving full rein to his philosophically impersonal views of the immediate questions involved in the national struggle.  He rose at last, and left me thinking of his strange personality and wondering why, holding such views, be should throw his energies into either side.

He returned presently, bringing me a letter from my father.  He waited as I opened it, and when I asked leave to read it, he said for answer, as if still thinking of our conversation:—­

“Jones, my boy, there is a future for you.  I can imagine circumstances in which your peculiar powers of memory would accomplish more genuine good than could a thousand bayonets; good night.”

Before I went to bed I had written my father a long letter.  Then, I lay down, oppressed with thought.

VI

THE USES OF INFIRMITY

     “There shall never be one lost good!  What was, shall live as before;
     The evil is null, is naught, is silence implying sound;
     What was good, shall be good, with, for evil, so much good more;
     On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven, a perfect round.”

    —­BROWNING.

The next morning Lydia was missing from the breakfast table.  The Doctor said that she had gone to her room—­which was at a friend’s house in Georgetown—­to rest.  She had brought from Willis a request that I should come to see him.

“You are getting back to your normal condition,” said the Doctor, “and if you do not object I shall drive you down.”

On the way, the Doctor told me that alarm as to the safety of the capital had subsided.  The army was reorganizing on the Virginia hills and was intrenching rapidly.  Reenforcements were being hurried to Washington, and a new call for volunteers would at once be made.  General McClellan would arrive in a few days; much was expected of his ability to create and discipline an army.

“You need be in no hurry to report to your company,” said Dr. Khayme; “it is true that you are almost fit for duty, but you have practically a leave of absence for a week or more, and I am sure that rest will do you good.  By the way, President Lincoln will visit the troops at Arlington to-day; if you like, I shall be glad to take you over.”

I declined, saying that I must see Willis, and expressing my desire to return to my post of duty as soon as possible.

We found Willis cheerful.  The Doctor asked him a few questions and then passed into the office.

Willis pressed my hand.  “Old man,” said he, “but for you I should be a prisoner.  Count on Jake Willis whenever you need a friend, or when it is in his power to do you a service.”

“Sergeant,” said I, “I shall go back to duty in a day or two.  What shall I say to the boys for you?”

“Tell ’em old Jake is a-comin’ too.  My leg feels better already.  The surgeon promises to put me on my feet in a month, or six weeks at the outside.  Have you learned how our company came out?”