aches for you. I delayed on the road, because I could not bear to bring
this news to you. Then I wrote a letter, and thought of sending that,
but I feared you might not get it. I could not bear to see you in
sorrow."

"You, at least, Lieutenant Dudleigh," said Edith, earnestly, "have acted
toward me like a true friend and a true gentleman. No one could have
done more. It is some consolation to know that every thing which was
possible has been done."

There was now a long pause. Each one was lost in thought. Edith's sad
face was turned toward Dudleigh, but she did not notice him. She was
wrapped in her own thoughts, and wondering how long she could endure the
life that now lay before her.

"Miss Dalton," said Dudleigh at length, in a mournful voice, "I have to
leave at once to join my regiment, for my leave is up, and it may be
some time before I see you again."

He paused.

Edith looked at him earnestly, fearful of what she thought might be
coming. Would it be a confession of love? How strong that love must be
which had prompted him to such devotion! And yet she could not return
it? Yet if he said any thing about it, what could she say? Could she
refuse one who had done so much, one who loved her so deeply, one who
was the only friend now left her?

"It is heart-breaking to leave you here, Miss Dalton," he continued,
"among unscrupulous enemies. When I am away I shall be distracted by a