Many have sought your hand, my dear."
"You call me a lost child, General? Ah, you remember the term! At
many battles there is what is known as the forlorn hope--those whom
the French call _Les enfants perdus_--The Lost Children. Perhaps
they perish. But at the next battle, at the crucial time, they
rise again from the dead. Always there is the band of the Lost
Children, ready to do what must be done. And always, at the last
moment, are battles won by those who remain devoted, whatever be
the cause."
Zewlinski nodded his gray head gravely. "It was thus my own sons
died in battle," said he. "It was as I would have had it. But
you--you are a woman! These things are not for you."
"See," she interrupted, gently tapping his arm with her fan. "We
must not be too much apart. Let us return."
As they turned back toward the head of the line, Josephine gave a
half-exclamation. Two figures were approaching, each of which
seemed to her familiar. An instant later she had recognized the
young northern officer, Carlisle, whom she had met under such
singular conditions.
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