Marian, eager to comply with the suggestion, excused herself.  In her absence her father entered.  He also greeted the young man kindly, and, learning of his project, volunteered some useful instructions, adding, “I can give you a few lines that may be of service.”

At last Merwyn was about to depart, and Marian, for the first time, gave him her hand and wished him “God-speed.”  He flushed deeply, and there was a flash of pleasure in his dark eyes as he said, in a low tone, that he would try to deserve her kindness.

At this moment there was a ring at the door, and a card was brought in.  Marian could scarcely believe her eyes, for on it was written, “Henry Blauvelt.”

She rushed to the door and welcomed the young officer with exclamations of delight, and then added, eagerly, “Where is Mr. Strahan?”

“I am sorry indeed to tell you that I do not know,” Blauvelt replied, sadly.  Then he hastily added:  “But I am sure he was not killed, for I have searched every part of the field where he could possibly have fallen.  I have visited the hospitals, and have spent days and nights in inquiries.  My belief now is that he was taken prisoner.”

“Then there is still hope!” exclaimed the young girl, with tears in her eyes.  “You surely believe there is still hope?”

“I certainly believe there is much reason for hope.  The rebels left their own seriously wounded men on the field, and took away as prisoners only such of our men as were able to march.  It is true I saw Strahan fall just as we were driven back; but I am sure that he was neither killed nor seriously wounded, for I went to the spot as soon as possible afterwards and he was not there, nor have I been able, since, to find him or obtain tidings of him.  He may have been knocked down by a piece of shell or a spent ball.  A moment or two later the enemy charged over the spot where he fell, and what was left of our regiment was driven back some distance.  From that moment I lost all trace of him.  I believe that he has only been captured with many other prisoners, and that he will be exchanged in a few weeks.”

“Heaven grant that it may be so!” she breathed, fervently.  “But, Mr. Blauvelt, you are wounded.  Do not think us indifferent because we have asked so eagerly after Major Strahan, for you are here alive and apparently as undaunted as ever.”

“Oh, my wounds are slight.  Carrying my arm in a sling gives too serious an impression.  I merely had one of the fingers of my left hand shot away, and a scratch on my shoulder.”

“But have these wounds been dressed lately?” Mr. Vosburgh asked, gravely.

“And have you had your rations this evening?” Marian added, with the glimmer of a smile.

“Thanks, yes to both questions.  I arrived this afternoon, and at once saw a good surgeon.  I have not taken time to obtain a better costume than this old uniform, which has seen hard service.”