“Oh, Phil!  I’m certainly worried.  She was expecting to go on board some hospital boat at the landing the day befo’ your regiment arrived.  I haven’t set eyes on her since.  A gun-boat was to take one of the Commission’s steamers to Fortress Monroe, and all that day the fleet kept on firing at our—­at the Confederate batteries over the river”—­she corrected herself wearily—­“and I was so afraid, that Ailsa’s steamer would try to get out——­”

“Did it?”

“I don’t know.  There are so many, many boats at the landing, and there’s been so much firing, and nobody seems to know what is happening or where anybody is. . . .  And I don’t know where Ailsa is, and I’ve been ve’y mise’ble because they say some volunteer nurses have been killed——­”

“What!”

“I didn’t want to tell you, Phil—­until you were better——­”

“Tell me what?” he managed to say, though a terrible fear was stiffening his lips and throat.

She said dully:  “They get shot sometimes.  You remember yo’se’f what that Sister of Charity said last night.  I heard Ailsa cautioning Letty—­the little nurse, Miss Lynden——­”

“Yes, I know.  What else?”

Celia’s underlip quivered:  “Nothing, only Ailsa told me that she was ordered to the field hospital fo’ duty befo’ she went aboard the commission boat—­and she never came back—­and there was a battle all that day——­”

“Is that all?” he demanded, rising on one elbow.  “Is there anything else you are concealing?”

“No, Phil.  I’d tell you if there was.  Perhaps I’m foolish to be so nervous—­but I don’t know—­that Sister of Charity struck by a bullet—­and to think of Ailsa out there under fire—­” She closed her eyes and sat shivering in the gray chill of the dawn, the tears silently stealing over her pale cheeks.  Berkley stared out of the window at a confused and indistinct mass of waggons and tents and moving men, but the light was still too dim to distinguish uniforms; and presently Celia leaned forward and drew the curtains.

Then she turned and took Berkley’s hands in hers.

“Phil, dear,” she said softly, “I suspect how it is with you and Ailsa.  Am I indiscreet to speak befo’ you give me any warrant?”

He said nothing.

“The child certainly is in love with you.  A blind woman could divine that,” continued Celia wistfully.  “I am glad, Phil, because I believe you are as truly devoted to her as she is to you.  And when the time comes—­if God spares you both——­”

“You are mistaken,” he said quietly, “there is no future before us.”

She coloured in consternation.  “Wh—­why I certainly supposed—­believed——­”

“Celia!”

“W-what, dear?”

“Don’t you know I cannot marry?”

“Why not, Philip?”

“Could I marry Ailsa Craig unless I first told her that my father and my mother were never married?” he said steadily.