out of his nature.  In Iola he saw realized his ideal of the woman whom he was willing to marry.  A woman, tender, strong, and courageous, and rescued only by the strong arm of his Government from a fate worse than death.  She was young in years, but old in sorrow; one whom a sad destiny had changed from a light-hearted girl to a heroic woman.  As he observed her, he detected an undertone of sorrow in her most cheerful words, and observed a quick flushing and sudden paling of her cheek, as if she were living over scenes that were thrilling her soul with indignation or chilling her heart with horror.  As nurse and physician, Iola and Dr. Gresham were constantly thrown together.  His friends sent him magazines and books, which he gladly shared with her.  The hospital was a sad place.  Mangled forms, stricken down in the flush of their prime and energy; pale young corpses, sacrificed on the altar of slavery, constantly drained on her sympathies.  Dr. Gresham was glad to have some reading matter which might divert her mind from the memories of her mournful past, and also furnish them both with interesting themes of conversation in their moments of relaxation from the harrowing scenes through which they were constantly passing.  Without any effort or consciousness on her part, his friendship ripened into love.  To him her presence was a pleasure, her absence a privation; and her loneliness drew deeply upon his sympathy.  He would have merited his own self-contempt if, by word or deed, he had done anything to take advantage of her situation.  All the manhood and chivalry of his nature rose in her behalf, and, after carefully revolving the matter, he resolved to win her for his bride, bury her secret in his Northern home, and hide from his aristocratic relations all knowledge of her mournful past.  One day he said to Iola:—­

“This hospital life is telling on you.  Your strength is failing, and although you possess a wonderful amount of physical endurance, you must not forget that saints have bodies and dwell in tabernacles of clay, just the same as we common mortals.”

“Compliments aside,” she said, smiling; “what are you driving at, Doctor?”

“I mean,” he replied, “that you are running down, and if you do not quit and take some rest you will be our patient instead of our nurse.  You’d better take a furlough, go North, and return after the first frost.”

“Doctor, if that is your only remedy,” replied Iola, “I am afraid that I am destined to die at my post.  I have no special friends in the North, and no home but this in the South.  I am homeless and alone.”

There was something so sad, almost despairing in her tones, in the drooping of her head, and the quivering of her lip, that they stirred Dr. Gresham’s heart with sudden pity, and, drawing nearer to her, he said, “Miss Leroy, you need not be all alone.  Let me claim the privilege of making your life bright and happy.  Iola, I have loved you ever since I have seen your devotion to our poor, sick boys.  How faithfully you, a young and gracious girl, have stood at your post and performed your duties.  And now I ask, will you not permit me to clasp hands with you for life?  I do not ask for a hasty reply.  Give yourself time to think over what I have proposed.”