"
I was early, but if she had waited, she would of course not know this.
"What has happened, Miss Kate?"
"Come here."
Through my opened door I followed her quick step.
"You were jesting about that this morning,"--she pointed to the picture,
propped open against a book on the mantel; and then, with an effort to
steady her voice,--"you were jesting, and of course you didn't know--but
you shouldn't have jested."
"Can it be you, Miss Kate--can it really be you?"
"It is, it is--couldn't you see? Tell me quickly--don't, don't jest
again!"
"Be sure I shall not. Sit down."
But she stood still, with an arm extended to the picture, and again
implored me: "See--I'm waiting. Where--how--did you get it?"
"Sit down," I said; and this time she obeyed with a little cry of
impatience.
"I'll try to bring it back," I said. "It was that day Sheridan hurried
back to find his army broken--all but beaten. Just at dark there was a
last charge--a charge that was met. I went down in it, hearing yells and
a spitting fire, but feeling only numbness. When I woke up the firing
was far off. Near me I could hear a voice, the voice of a young man, I
thought, wounded like myself.
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