The anxiety caused by this missive was somewhat relieved by a humorous account of the recall of the cavalry force.  She then learned, through her father, that the entire army was again on the move, and that another terrific battle would be fought in a day or two.

“Burnside should cross the Rappahannock to-day or to-morrow, at the latest,” Mr. Vosburgh had remarked at breakfast, to which he had come from the Washington owl-train.

It was the 20th of December, and when the shadows of the early twilight were gathering, Burnside had, in fact, massed his army at the fords of the river, and his troops, “little Strahan” among them, were awaiting orders to enter the icy tide in the stealthy effort to gain Lee’s left flank.  There are many veterans now living who remember the terrific “storm of wind, rain, sleet, and snow” that assailed the unsheltered army.  It checked further advance more effectually than if all the rebel forces had been drawn up on the farther shore.  After a frightful night, the Union army was discovered in the dawn by Lee.

Even then Burnside would have crossed, and, in spite of his opponent’s preparations and every other obstacle, would have fought a battle, had he not been paralyzed by a foe with which no general could cope,—­Virginia mud.  The army mired helplessly, supply trains could not reach it.  With difficulty the troops were led back to their old quarters, and so ended the disastrous campaigns of the year, so far as the army of the Potomac was concerned.

The storm that drenched and benumbed the soldiers on the Rappahannock was equally furious in the city of New York, and Mr. Vosburgh sat down to dinner frowning and depressed.  “It seems as if fate is against us,” he said.  “This storm is general, I fear, and may prove more of a defence to Lee than his fortifications at Fredericksburg.  It’s bad enough to have to cope with treachery and disaffection.”

“Treachery, papa?”

“Yes, treachery,” replied her father, sternly.  “Scoundrels in our own army informed Washington disunionists of the cavalry movement of which Captain Lane wrote you, and these unmolested enemies at the capital are in constant communication with Lee.  When will our authorities and the North awake to the truth that this is a life-and-death struggle, and that there must be no more nonsense?”

“Would to Heaven I were a man!” said the young girl.  “At this very moment, no doubt, Mr. Merwyn is enjoying his sumptuous dinner, while my friends may be fording a dark, cold river to meet their death.  Oh!  I can’t eat anything to-night.”

“Nonsense!” cried her mother, irritably.

“Come, little girl, you are taking things too much to heart.  I am very glad you are not a man.  In justice, I must also add that Mr. Merwyn is doing more for the cause than any of your friends.  It so happens that I have learned that he is doing a great deal of which little is known.”