she had never heard, and I trust, now, never may hear what Robinson had told us — that while pressing on at the Battle of Fair Oaks, over heaps of the enemy's dead, he saw an upturned face on the field-wounded or dead, he knew not which — that face, he said, he never could mistake — it was that of his brother! We tried to convince him that this was most improbable — that his imagination was excited at the time, and that the dread that such a thing might happen had been “father to the thought;” but in vain; we never could persuade him to the contrary; and yet, whether from a doubt in his mind, or the dread of the pain it must cause, he never, as we afterward found, had made any allusion to the subject in his letters home. One morning, after he had been able to be about, and even out for some weeks, I was surprised, on going into his ward, to find him in bed again. “ Why, Robinson, I am sorry to see you there! What have you been doing?” He hesitated, twisted the end of his coverlid, but made no answer. “ Nothing wrong, I'm very sure of that. It wasn't your own fault, was it?” said I, fearing he thought I doubted him, as so many of the relapses here are caused by excess, the moment the men are able to be out, and I well knew there was no such danger here. He looked up at me, at once, with his clear, honest eyes, and said, “ Yes, Miss , all my own fault; but I thought she worried so- ” “ Your mother?” I questioned. “Yes, ma'aen; and if I could just slip my arm into my coat-sleeve long enough to have my picture taken. ”
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