Miss Lou did not give very much thought to her cousin.  In overpowering solicitude she asked herself, “Where is he whose eyes looked such strange, sweet truth into mine to-day?  Are they unseeing, not because it is dark, but because the light of life is quenched?”

The brunt of the storm soon passed and was followed by a drizzling rain and the promise of a gloomy night.  As the howling wind ceased their clamor, new blood-curdling sounds smote the girl’s ears—­the cries of wounded and dying men and horses.  Then the ghastly truth, scarcely thought of in the preceding excitement, sickened her heart, for she remembered that, scattered over the lawn and within the grove, were mutilated, bleeding forms.  They were all the more vividly presented to her fancy because hidden by the night.

But little time elapsed before the activity of the surgeons began.  Mr. Baron was summoned and told that his piazzas and as many rooms as possible must be occupied, and part of the wide hall fitted up with appliances for amputations.  Every suitable place in the out-buildings was also required.

Mrs. Baron almost shrieked as she heard this, seeing at one mental glance the dwelling which it had been her ruling passion to maintain in immaculate order, becoming bloodstained and muddy from top to bottom.

Mrs. Whately asked only for her son, and he soon appeared, with the excitement of battle still in his eyes.  She rushed to his arms and sobbed on his breast.

“Come, mother,” he exclaimed, “we’ve no time for this now.  Please get a sling for this left arm, which aches horribly—­only a sprain, but right painful all the same.”

Before the agitated lady could recover herself, Miss Lou ran to her room and returned with a scarf which answered the purpose.

“Oh, you deign to do something for me?” he said bitterly.

“Come, cousin,” she replied, “since I have not lost my senses after what’s happened it’s time you regained yours.”

“Thank you, my dear,” said his mother fervently, as she adjusted the support for the disabled arm.  “Yes, I trust that we may all regain our senses, and, if we outlive these scenes, begin to act as if we were sane.”

“There, that will do,” he said impatiently.  “I must go now, for I have important duties,” and he hastened away.

Meantime General Marston had sent word through his picket line that he would not interfere with the care of the wounded and that the dwelling would not be fired upon if used as a hospital.  He accompanied this assurance with the offer of medical stores, coffee, sugar and the services of two surgeons.  The Confederate general accepted the offer.  The trembling negroes were routed out of their quarters, and compelled more or less reluctantly to help bring in the wounded.  Uncle Lusthah showed no hesitancy in the humane work and soon inspired those over whom he had influence with much of his spirit.  It had been a terribly anxious day for him and those about him.  Hope had ebbed and flowed alternately until night, when the day which seemed to him the dawning of the millennium ended as he imagined the world might end.  Now, however, he was comforted in the performance of good works, and he breathed words of Christian hope into more than one dying ear that night.