“Let us sit here,” said the elder woman.  “I am too weak to walk further”—­for her a strange confession.  As they sat down on the mossy carpet, Leila caught the passive hand of her aunt.

“I suppose you still swim here, every morning, Leila?  I used to like it—­I have now no heart for anything.”

Leila could only say, “Why not, aunt?”

“How can you ask me!  I think—­I dream of nothing but this unnatural war.”

“Is that wise, aunt? or as Dr. McGregor would say, ’wholesome’?”

“It is not; but I cannot help it—­it darkens my whole life.  Billy was up at the house this morning talking in his wild way.  I did not even try to understand, but”—­and she hesitated—­“I suppose I had better know.”

This was strange to Leila, who too hesitated, and then concluding to be frank returned, “It might have been better, aunt, if you had known all along what was going on—­”

“What would have been the use?” said her aunt in a tone of languid indifference.  “It can end in but one way.”

A sensation of anger rose dominant in the mind of the girl.  It was hard to bear.  She broke out into words of passionate resentment—­the first revolt.  “You think only of your dear South—­of your friends—­your brother—­”

“Leila!”

She was past self-control or other control.  “Well, then, be glad Lee is in Pennsylvania—­General Ewell has taken York and Hagerstown—­there will be a great battle.  May God help the right—­my country!”

“General Lee,” cried Ann; “Lee in Pennsylvania!  Then that will end the war.  I am glad James is safe in Washington.”  Leila already self-reproachful, was silent.

To tell her he was with the army of the North would be cruel and was what James Penhallow had forbidden.

“He is in Washington?” asked Ann anxiously.

“When last I heard, he was in Washington, aunt, and as you know, John is before Vicksburg with General Grant.”

“They will never take it—­never.”

“Perhaps not, Aunt Ann,” said Leila, penitent.  The younger woman was disinclined to talk and sat quiet, one of the millions who were wondering what the next few days would bring.

The light to westward was slowly fading as she remained with hands clasped about her knees and put aside the useless longing to know what none could know.  Her anger was gone as she caught with a side glance the frail look of Ann Penhallow.  She felt too the soothing benediction of the day’s most sacred hour.

Of a sudden Ann Penhallow bounded to her feet.  A thunderous roar broke on the evening stillness.  The smooth backwater shivered and the cat-tails and reeds swayed, as the sound struck echoes from the hills and died away.  Leila caught and stayed the swaying figure.  “It is only the first of the great new siege guns they are trying on the lower meadows.  Sit down, dear, for a moment.  Do be careful—­you are getting”—­she hesitated—­“hysterical.  There will be another presently.  Do sit down, dear aunt.  Don’t be nervous.”  She was alarmed by her aunt’s silent statuesque position.  She could have applied no wiser remedy than her warning advice.  No woman likes to be told she is nervous or hysterical and now it acted with the certainty of a charm.