“We had no surgeon, but I had her taken into the house, and made as comfortable as possible.  When she recovered from her swoon, she asked for you, and repeatedly for Oriana, and would not be comforted until I promised her that she should be taken immediately on to Richmond.  ’She could not die there, among strangers,’ she said; ’she must see one friend before she died.  She must go home at once and be forgiven.’  And thus she went, half in delirium, until I feared that her life would pass away, from sheer exhaustion.  I determined to ride over to your picket at once, not dreaming, however, that you were in command.  At dawn to-morrow we shall probably be relieved, and it might be beyond my power then to meet her wishes.”

“I need not say how much I thank you, Harold.  But you were ever kind and generous.  Poor girl!  Let us ride over at once, Harold.  Who is her companion?”

“A woman some years her senior, but yet young, though prematurely faded.  I could get little from her.  Not even her name.  She is gloomy and reserved, even morose at times; but she seems to be kind and attentive to Miranda.”

Beverly left some hasty instructions with his sergeant, and rode over with Harold to the farm-house.  They found Miranda reclining upon a couch of blankets, over which Harold had spread his military cloak, for the dwelling had been stripped of its furniture, and was, in fact, little more than a deserted ruin.  The suffering girl was pale and attenuated, and her sunken eyes were wild and bright with the fire of delirium.  Yet she seemed to recognize Beverly, and stretched out her thin arms when he approached, exclaiming in tremulous accents: 

“Take me home, Beverly, oh, take me home!”

Moll was seated by her side, upon a soldier’s knapsack; her chin resting upon her hands, and her black eyes fixed sullenly upon the floor.  She would give but short and evasive answers to Beverly’s questions, and stubbornly refused to communicate the particulars of Miranda’s history.

“She broke a blood-vessel a month ago in Boston.  But she got better, and was always wanting to go to her friends in Richmond.  And so I brought her on.  And now you must take care of her, for I’m going back to camp.”

This was about all the information she would give, and the two young men ceased to importune her, and directed their attentions to the patient.

The carriage was prepared and the cushions so arranged, with the help of blankets, as to form a kind of couch within the vehicle.  Upon this Miranda was tenderly lifted, and when she was told that she should be taken home without delay, and would soon see Oriana, she smiled like a pleased child, and ceased complaining.

Beverly stood beside his horse, with his hand clasped in Harold’s.  The rain poured down upon them, and the single watchfire, a little apart from which the silent sentinel stood leaning on his rifle, threw its rude glare upon their saddened faces.