turned from the hospital.  The young man, wondering how she would receive the news of Katie’s treachery, asked himself what she could find now in excuse for the girl who had used her faithful friend as the unconscious messenger of her broken plight?  Stephen knew well enough that the old glamour would come back, but to-night he was full only of indignation against Katie.  To have used Elizabeth as she had done was an added sin.

“I wish Bulchester joy of her,” he muttered, then with a sharp breath recollected that this was only a respite, that he should not always feel too scornful for pain.

Three nights after this there was a silent and solemn procession down to the shore.  Island Battery was to be attacked.  Here was Archdale’s forlorn hope ready for him, if he wanted it now.  Every chance of success depended upon secrecy.  The venture was so desperate that the General could not make up his mind to pick out the men himself, he called for volunteers.  They came forward readily, incited, not only by courage and the desire to end the siege, but by ambition to be distinguished among their comrades who stood about them in hushed expectation.  Every soldier off duty and able to crawl to the shore, and some who should not have attempted it were there.  Among this crowd stood two women, scarcely apart from the others, and yet everywhere that they moved, given place to with the unobtrusive courtesy that has always marked American men, so that one woman in a host of them feels herself, should danger come, in an army of protectors, and otherwise alone.  Elizabeth had meant to be here earlier, and to put herself by the General’s side, for her father had gone with dispatches to the fleet, but her duties had detained her, and now she was separated from him by nearly a regiment.  She stood silent in an anxiety that did not lessen because she told herself that it was foolish.

Captain Brooks was to command the expedition, and the number of men needed to accompany him was fast being made up from the eager volunteers.  In the dimness she recognized Archdale by an unconscious haughtiness of bearing, and Edmonson’s voice, though lowered to suit the demands of the hour, made her shiver.  Yet why?  Of course they both were here; volunteers were stepping out from the ranks of their companies.  But they themselves were not going, neither would they be left here alone together.  Boat after boat with scaling ladders was filled with soldiers and shoved off, some of them out of sight in the dimness where the men, lying on their oars, waited for their comrades.  In this way one after another disappeared.  Things went on well.  Elizabeth began to be reassured, to be occupied with the scene about her, to remember the importance of the expedition and how many times it had been unsuccessfully attempted.  She began to think of the attack, of the result, and of the soldiers, to rejoice in them, to be proud of them, and to tremble for them, as one who has no individual interest at stake.