Penhallow said, “Please to direct my servant to the Sanitary Commission.  I think my friend, the Rev. Mark Rivers, is with them.”

He slept none.  It was early dawn when Rivers came in anxious and troubled.  For the first time in years of acquaintance he found Penhallow depressed, and amazed because so small a wound made him weak and unable to think clearly or to give orders.  “And it was some stupid boy from our line,” he said.

His incapacity made Rivers uneasy, and although Penhallow broke out to his surprise in angry remonstrance, he convinced him at last that he must return to Grey Pine on sick leave.  He asked no question about the army.  Insisting that he was too well to give up his command, nevertheless he talked much of headache and lack of bodily power.  He was, as Rivers saw, no longer the good-humoured, quiet gentleman, with no thought of self.  In a week he was stronger, but as his watchful friend realized, there was something mysteriously wrong with his mental and moral mechanism.

On the day after the battle Penhallow asked to have his wife telegraphed that he was slightly wounded, and that she must not come to him.  Rivers wrote also a brief and guarded letter to Leila of their early return to Grey Pine.

In a vain effort to interest the colonel, he told him of the surrender of Vicksburg.—­He asked where it was and wasn’t John there, but somewhat later became more clear-minded and eager to go home.

CHAPTER XXV

Rivers gathered no comfort from a consultation of surgeons, who talked of the long-lasting effects of concussion of the brain.  Made careful by the sad change he had observed in Ann Penhallow when last seen, he sent his telegram for Leila to the care of the post-mistress, and a day later a brief letter.

Understanding the mode of address, Mrs. Crocker walked at once to Grey Pine, and found Leila in the garden.  “Where is your aunt?” she asked.

“Lying down in her room.  I got your kind note about the fight last evening.  Is it true?  Is the news confirmed?”

“Yes.  There was a terrible battle at Gettysburg.  The Rebels were defeated by General Meade and are retreating.”

“I did not tell Aunt Ann anything.  I waited to hear, as I was sure I would from Uncle James.  Is there evil news?”

“I don’t know.  Here is a telegram to my care for you from Mr. Rivers.  It must have been delayed—­and then came this letter to Mrs. Penhallow from him.”

“Then—­then—­there is bad news,” she cried as she tore open the telegram and stood still.

“What is it?—­you know how we all love him.”

“Uncle Jim is wounded—­not seriously—­and will be here shortly.”

“Oh, but I am sorry—­and glad.”

“Yes—­yes—­I must tell aunt at once.  She has not left her room for two days, and I forbade the maids to talk of the victory until it was sure—­now she must know all.  I must tell her at once.”