“Wait,” said he.

The Doctor filled his pipe and became silent.  Lydia was not on duty this night.  She had listened gravely to what had been said.  Now she looked up with a faint smile, which I thought meant that she was willing for me to talk to her and yet reluctant to be the first to speak, not knowing whether I had need of silence.  I had begun to have a high opinion of Lydia’s character.

“And you went to school in Bombay?”

“Yes, at first.”

I was not willing to show a bald curiosity concerning her, and I suppose my hesitation was expressed in my face, for she presently continued.

“I studied and worked in the British hospital; you must know that I am a nurse with some training.  Father was very willing for me to become a nurse, for he said that there would be war in America, and that nurses would be needed.”

Then, turning to the Doctor, she said, “Father, Mr. Berwick asked me to-day when it was that we sailed from Charleston, and I was unable to tell him.”

“The third of September, 1857,” said the Doctor.

I remembered that this was my sister’s birthday and also the very day on which I had written to Dr. Khayme that I should not return to Charleston.  The coincidence and its bearing on my affliction disturbed me so that I could not readily continue my part of the conversation, and Lydia soon retired.

“Doctor,” said I, “to-morrow morning I shall be ready to report to my company.”

“Very well, Jones,” he said, “act according to your conscience; I shall see you frequently.  There will be no more battles in this part of the country for a long time, and it will not be difficult for you to get leave of absence when you wish to see us.  Besides, I am thinking of moving our camp nearer to you.”

VII

A SECOND DISASTER

     “Our fortune on the sea is out of breath. 
     And sinks most lamentably.”—­SHAKESPEARE.

The winter brought an almost endless routine of drill, guard, and picket duty and digging.

The division was on duty near Budd’s Ferry.  Dr. Khayme’s quarters were a mile to the rear of our left.  I was a frequent visitor at his tents.  After Willis’s return to duty, which was in November, he and I spent much of our spare time at the Sanitary camp.  It was easy to see what attracted Jake.  It did not seem to me that Dr. Khayme gave much thought to the sergeant, but Lydia gravely received his adoration silently offered, and so conducted herself in his presence that I was puzzled greatly concerning their relations.  I frequently wondered why the sergeant did not confide in me; we had become very intimate, so that in everything, except his feeling for Miss Khayme, I was Willis’s bosom friend, so to speak; in that matter, however, he chose to ignore me.