"Why do you wish so?" demanded the astonished maiden; more astonished at his manner than his words.

"I am sorry to have you burdened with such a weight of obligation."

"I think you mean to quarrel with me, Mr. Somers. I beg you will not be so savage just as you are going away," laughed Kate, though there was a troubled expression on her fair face. "I asked you if I should hear from you, Mr. Somers."

"Certainly, if you desire."

"Why do you qualify your words? I should be just as glad to hear from you as I ever was."

"Then you shall, at every opportunity."

"Thank you, Mr. Somers. That sounds hearty and honest, as father would say."

"I do not wish you to feel an interest in me from a sense of duty. I shall not write any letters from a sense of duty, or even because I have promised to do so. I shall write to you because--because I can't help it," stammered Somers, almost overcome by the violence of his exertions.

"I thank you, Mr. Somers, and I am sure your letters will be all the more welcome from my knowledge of the fact."

"Good by," said he, gently pressing the little hand he held.

"Good by," she replied; and to his great satisfaction and delight, the pressure was returned--a kind of telegraphic signal, infinitely more expressive than all the words in the spelling-book, strung into sentences, could have been to a young man in his desperate condition.

Mr. Ensign Somers was now entirely satisfied. That gentle pressure of the hand had atoned for all her reserve and coldness, real or imaginary, and made the future bright and pleasant to look upon. Undoubtedly Mr.

Somers was a silly young fellow; but there is some consolation in believing that he was just like all young men under similar circ.u.mstances.

Mr. Pillgrim followed him out of the house, and they hastened down to the wharf to take the steamer for New York. On the pa.s.sage the two officers treated each other with courtesy and consideration, but there appeared to be no strong sympathy of thought or feeling between them, and they were not drawn so closely together as they might have been under similar circ.u.mstances, if there had been more of opinion and sentiment common between them.

On their arrival at Philadelphia, they found the Chatauqua was still in the hands of the workmen, and would not go into commission for a week or ten days. They reported to the commandant of the navy yard, and took up their quarters at the "Continental," where Somers found his old friend Mr. Waldron, who had been detached from the Rosalie at his own request, and ordered to the Chatauqua, in which he was to serve as executive officer. This was splendid news to Somers, for he regarded Mr. Waldron as a true and trusty friend, in whom he could with safety confide.

"Do you know Lieutenant Pillgrim?" asked Somers, after they had discussed their joint information in regard to the new ship.

"I am not personally acquainted with him, though I have heard his name mentioned. He is a Virginian, I think."

"Yes."

"If I mistake not, there were some doubts about his loyalty, though he never tendered his resignation; he has been kept in the background."

"He seems to be a loyal and true man."

"No doubt of it, or he would not have been appointed to the Chatauqua."

"He has some respect for the rebels, but no sympathy."

"I think he has frequently applied for employment, but has not obtained it until the present time. I have no doubt he is a good fellow and a good officer. He ranks next to me. But, Somers, I leave town in half an hour," continued Mr. Waldron, consulting his watch. "I am going to run home for a few days, till the ship goes into commission. I will see you here on my return."

Somers walked to the railroad station with his late commander, and parted with him as the train started. During the three succeeding days, he visited the museums, libraries, and other places of resort, interesting to a young man of his tastes. He went to the navy yard every day, and, with his usual zeal, learned what he could of the build, rig, and armament of the Chatauqua, and gathered such other information relating to his profession as would be useful to him in the future.

Lieutenant Pillgrim pa.s.sed his time in a different manner. Though he was not what the world would call an intemperate or an immoral man, he spent many of his hours in bar-rooms, billiard-saloons, and places of public amus.e.m.e.nt. He several times invited Somers to "join" him at the bar, to play at billiards, and to visit the theatre, and other places of more questionable morality. The young officer was not a prude, but he never drank, did not know how to play billiards, and never visited a gambling resort. He went to the theatre two or three times; but this was the limit of his indulgence.

Mr. Pillgrim was courteous and gentlemanly; he did not press his invitations. He treated his brother officer with the utmost kindness and consideration; was always ready, and even forward, to serve him; and their relations were of the pleasantest character.

One evening, when Somers called at the office for the key of his room, after his return from the navy yard, a letter was handed to him. The writing was an unfamiliar hand, scrawling and hardly legible. It was evidently the production of an illiterate person. On reaching his room he opened it.

CHAPTER III.

THE WOUNDED SAILOR.

The curiosity of Somers was not a little excited before he opened the uncouth letter in his hand. It was postmarked Philadelphia, which made its reception all the more strange, for he had no friends or acquaintances residing in the city. He tore open the dirty epistle, which was not even enclosed in an envelope, and read as follows:--

PHILA. June the 19. 1864.

MR. JOHN SOMERS ESQ. Sir. I been wounded in the leg up the Missippi and can not do nothing more. I been in your division aboard the Rosalie, and I know you was a good man and I know you was a good officer, I hope you be in good helth, as I am not at this present writen. my Leg is very bad, and don't git no better. This is to inform you that I am the only son of a poor widdow, who has no other Son, and she can not do nothing for me, nor I can't do nothing for her. I have Fout for my countrey and have been woundded in the servis. If you could git a penshin for me. it would be a grate help to me Sorrowin condition. I live No -- Front Street. If I might make bold to ask you to come and see a old Sailor, thrown on the beam ends of missfortune, I would be very thankful to you.

Yours to command,

THOMAS BARRON.

N. B. The doctor says he thinks my Leg will have to come off.

Tom Longstone knows me, and you ask him, he will tell you all About me.

"Thomas Barron," mused Somers, as he folded the letter. "I don't remember him. There were two or three Toms on board the Rosalie. At any rate, I have nothing better to do than call upon him. He is an old sailor, and that is enough for me."

It was already after dark; but he decided to visit the sufferer that night, and after tea he left the house for this purpose. He was sufficiently acquainted with the streets of this systematic city to make his way without a.s.sistance. Of course he did not expect to find the home of the old sailor in a wealthy and aristocratic portion of the city; but if he had understood the character of the section to which the direction led him, he would probably have deferred his charitable mission till the following day. On reaching the vicinity of the place indicated, he found himself in a vile locality, surrounded by the lowest and most depraved of the population.

With considerable difficulty he found the number mentioned in the letter. The lower story of the building was occupied as a liquor shop, and a further examination of the premises a.s.sured him the place was a sailor's boarding-house. As this fact was not inconsistent with the character of Tom Barron, he entered the shop. Half a dozen vagabonds had possession; and as Somers entered, the attention of the whole group was directed to him.

"Is there a sailor by the name of Thomas Barron in this house?" asked Somers of the greasy, corpulent woman, who stood behind about four feet of counter, forming the bar, on which were displayed several bottles and decanters.

"Yes, sir; and very bad he is too," replied the woman, civilly enough, though the young officer could hardly help shuddering in her presence.

"Could I see him?"

"I 'spect you can, if you be the officer Tom says is comin' to see him."

"I am the person."

"Tom's very bad."

"So he says in his letter."

"He hain't had a minute's peace or comfort with that leg sence he come home from the war. Be you any relation of his?"

"I am not."

"Mebbe you're his friend."