“Tell me candidly, are you able to undergo the fatigue incident to this journey?  I fear you are not.”

“Yes, I shall perhaps grow stronger; at any rate, if you do not change your mind, let no fears for me influence you.”

When leaving, he said it was probable that all would be in readiness for their departure within a couple of days, as he wished to see them secure, and then return.

“Mrs. Carlton will accompany us when she learns this terrible news?” said Mary, inquiringly.

“Oh yes; I cannot consent for her to remain, and besides Mr. Carlton has been anxious for some time regarding his family.”

Florence, having read the note, fully approved their promptly removing, and all necessary preparations were made for immediate departure.

Mary longed inexpressibly to impart to her cousin what she had learned respecting Mr. Stewart, but shrank instinctively from reviving hopes which might never be realized—­hopes which Florence had long since crushed and cast out of her heart as dead.  With an earnest prayer that her cousin might yet be blessed and happy, Mary determined not to broach the subject at least for a time.  Dr, Bryant without delay apprised the garrison of the rumor which had reached him, and a courier was immediately despatched to headquarters for reinforcements sufficient to defend this important fortress—­this key of the state—­from the powerful force now advancing to assault it.  Horses were supplied with alacrity, for he had made many and warm friends, and two large tents, together with a baggage-wagon, were readily granted to one who so nobly contributed to the relief of the sick, wounded, and dying.

At length every arrangement was completed, and the next morning appointed for their departure.  Aunt Lizzy had objected at first, but speedily became reconciled when Dr. Bryant painted, in a graphic manner, the horrors which were about to ensue.

As the shades of evening came gently on, the girls set out for Mrs. Carlton’s, as from her dwelling they commenced their journey.  Aunt Lizzy remained to give some final direction, and then came a sorrowful parting with their servants, one of whom took Mary in her arms and bade God bless her, while the tears rolled over her wrinkled face.  Mary could not repress her own, and she sobbed convulsively.  Dr. Bryant, who had come over for them, laid his hand on the shoulder of the true-hearted negress, and said: 

“Why, Aunt Fanny, you must not excite Miss Irving; she is not strong, you know, and has a long ride before her to-morrow.”

“Oh yes, Doctor, it will do well enough for you to tell me not to cry, but I can’t help it, for I love her as if she was my own child, and if I thought to see her again I should not grieve so much; but I saw her mother before her, and I know how she grew pale and thin, and then took to the sofa, and never rose up till she was carried to her grave; and can’t I see that blessed child going just like her?  Oh I it’s no use talking to me; she ain’t long for this world, and it’s hard—­yes, it’s hard for her to die away from old Fanny!” and she covered her face with her apron, and sobbed aloud.