Rubineau and Alett were seated beneath a bower, cultivated by the fair hand of the latter.

The next morning Rubineau was to depart.  All the happy scenes of the coming week were to be delayed, and the thought that they might be delayed long-ay, forever-came like a shadow of evil to brood in melancholy above the place and the hour.

We need not describe the meeting, the parting.

“Whatever befalls me, I shall not forget you, Alett.  Let us hope for the best.  Yet a strange presentiment I have that I shall not return.”

“O that I could go with you!” said Alett.  “Think you father would object?”

“That were impossible.  Nothing but love, true and enduring, could make such a proposal.  It would be incurring a two-fold danger.”

“Death would be glorious with you,—­life insupportable without you!”

In such conversation the night passed, and when the early light of morning came slowly up the eastern sky, the sound of a trumpet called him away.

The waving of a white flag was the last signal, and the general, all unused to tears as he was, mingled his with those of his family as the parting kiss was given, and Rubineau started on a warfare the result of which was known only to Him who governs the destinies of nations and of individuals.

And now, in the heat of the conflict, the war raged furiously.  Rubineau threw himself in the front rank, and none was more brave than he.  It seemed to his fellow-officers that he was urged on by some unseen agency, and guarded from injury by some spirit of good.

To himself but one thought was in his mind; and, regardless of danger, he pressed forward for a glorious victory, and honor to himself and friends.

Those whose leader he was were inspirited by his courageous action, and followed like true men where he led the way.

They had achieved several victories, and were making an onset upon numbers four-fold as large as their own, when their leader received a severe wound, and, falling from his noble horse, would have been trampled to death by his followers, had not those who had seen him fall formed a circle around as a protection for him.

This serious disaster did not dampen the ardor of the soldiers; they pressed on, carried the point, and saw the foe make a rapid retreat.

The shouts of victory that reached the ears of Rubineau came with a blessing.  He raised himself, and shouted, “On, brave men!” But the effort was too much for him to sustain for any length of time, and he fell back completely exhausted.

He was removed to a tent, and had every attention bestowed upon him.  As night approached, and the cool air of evening fanned his brow, he began to revive, but not in any great degree.

The surgeon looked sad.  There was evidently reason to fear the worst; and, accustomed as he was to such scenes, he was now but poorly prepared to meet it.