She was a rather imperious little belle with the
other boys, but was usually gentle with him because he was lame
and quiet. When she thanked him kindly and pleasantly at her gate,
he was so happy that he could scarcely eat his supper. Then his
mother would laugh and say, "You've been with your little
sweetheart." He would flush and make no reply.
How little did those children dream of war, even when studying
their history lessons! Yet Albert Nichol now lay in the Wilderness
jungle. He had done much to make his little playmate proud of him.
The sturdy boy developed into a manly man. When he responded to
his country's call and raised a company among his old friends and
neighbors, Helen Kemble exulted over him tearfully. She gave him
the highest tribute within her power and dearest possession--her
heart. She made every campaign with him, following him with love's
untiring solicitude through the scenes he described, until at last
the morning paper turned the morning sunshine into mockery and the
songs of the birds into dirges. Captain Nichol's name was on the
list of the killed.
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