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6 [ Continued ! from Zd page.] ‘ I will write to him at once, and b e<r a visit/ said Waiter. ‘lt,will be re ally cheering to see him after so long a separation.’ ‘ Brother, wby did you stay so long? We have so often wished for your return. Our house has been so lonely since Robert and yourself left —it seemed almost deserted.’ ‘ It is cheering to feel that we are missed. Wretched indeed is the man whose presence fails to bring glad ness to the hearts of those ho loves.’ Thus ho replied, endeavoring to evade a direct answer. Ernest came soon after receiving Walter’s letter, and remained several weeks. Walter learned from him that Lieut. Lyle and his sister, with Miss Seaton (a class mate of Irene’s) had visited Irene the preceding sum mer 5 and that Miss Seaton-also spent the Christmas holidays at Col. Somers’. Ernest met the last mens tioned there at a party, given in hon or of Lieut. Lyle. ' * Miss Somers seems to have lost none of her girlhood interest in you,’ said Ernest. She was sad, and I could not help associating her sad ness with yourself—there was a hVht in those bluo eyes, when I spolco of you, that I failed to see at other times. She heard by some means, that you had married, and asked me if it was true. I told her I had nev er heard of it, and thought the report was false, as I had met -Robert often and be did not mention it.’ Walter was surprised to learn that such a report had been circulated; but he now* told Ernest of the con versation he had heard in Florida, and asked if ho did not see her man ifest affection for Lieut. Lyle. ‘ I think, Walter, she had a prefer ence for my society, and believe this preference was shown becauso she thought I was your friend. lam sure tnat she cares nothing for Lyle. It is not impossible that ho Is address ing her, though ho seemed to be deeply in love with Miss Seaton, who by the way, is one of the most mag nificent ladies I ever saw.’ ‘ls Irene still at school?’ asked Walter. ‘ 1 saw Col. Somers, before I left Atlanta, on his way to take her home. lie has resolved to join the first band which leaves the State for the war, and prefers to leave her at home,’ ‘ Then he has returned by this time,’ said Walter, ‘ and I will write to her immediately. Ernest, what do you intend doing ?’ ‘I will join the rest of the volun teers, and meet the oppressors on our borders.’ ‘ Then let us go together. A desire to assist my native country, was the chief motivo of my return. All the male colleges will be suspended, and THE GEORGIA COLLEGIAN. I can leave Robert at home with my mother. He is not so impetuous, and it will not chafe his spirit as it would mine, to stay.’ Walter wrote to Irene that mVht, begging her to assure him if she still kept her vow. He resolved to see her, if possible, before joining the young men who were already start ing to Virginia from the Southern States. Ernest returned to Atlanta to pre pare for leaving at a moment’s no tice. He joined a regiment and in a few days wrote to Walter to come on to their place of rendezvous. When Walter received this letter, he was down on the river, and could have thrown it Unopened, to the wa ter which dashed over the rocks at his feet. Every evening, he had ex> pected a letter from Irene, and was so disappointed when he recognized the bold superscription of Ernest.— He started to Atlanta the next daj r , with tho resolve that he would never trust woman again. On arriving at the place of rendez vous, Walter was vexed to find him-, self within a few miles of Col. Som ers’ residence. That evening, ho left the camp to stroll off alone, neither knowing or caring whither his steps were directed. lie was walking with his head down, when he heard tho sound of a horse approaching. Rais ing his eyes involuntarily, ho saw th*. well remembered face of Irene. Love, hate, and wounded pride, were strangely mingled in her bosom; and while he passed her, with no more recognition than ho would give a stranger, a deep flush mantled her face, and then followed a death like pallor. He turned back soon after passing Irene, and when he reached the ens campment, joined a gay group not far from his tent. He wished to for get forever, the pale face of her whom he had met. The party were ongaged in a lively conversation concerning the election which would bo held on tho next day; and Walter tried to enjoy the jovial comments made upon the eligibility of the respective can* didates. But lie was sick at heart, and left the crowd disgusted. Ernest saw him corning to tho tent and arose to meet him. ‘ Walter,’ said he, ‘ your good reputation will give you tho office of adjutant to morrow. As soon as it was known that you had come this morning, you were nominated, and from all I have learned since nocn, you will be elect ed.’ ‘Ernest, do use your influence against it; I don’t want the position ; I am not capable of filling the office. Besides, there are others who are nominated, and from what I have just heard, expect to be elected. I can only be a private—am unfit for any public or responsible office. If I were even capable, Ernest, I am too tired of life, and too weary with the ways of the world, to take tho respon sibility of any charge which concerns others. I only desire to raise my arm bravely, and deal deadly blows in the first conflict, and then deserve the rest of a soldier’s grave. It it honorable to die in a just cause ; and though I know it is wrong to pine at our mis fortunes, yet I sometimes long for the quiet of the silent earth. I bavo seen but too much of tho world and learned too much of human nature, to feel the truth that friendship or love is a shadow “ Which follows wealth and fame, And leaves the wretch to weep.” 1 Walter, you are so much chang ed ! What has so soured your dispo sition toward your fellow-creatures? What is the matter ? You look bag gard and careworn !’ ‘Ernest, I entered the world in youthful credulity—believed all was truth, which wore its dress. My faith in human nature was unshaken —but after five years contact, that confidence's a thing of the past.— Within one short year (the last of the five, since 1 left my mother’s side) I have learned to distrust my fellow-beings—my hopes have been crushed—lam utterly cast down—l now desire to isolate myself as much as possible, and for this reason above others, I do not want the position of adjutant.’ ‘ Walter, hear mo—you can fill this office better than any man in the re giment ; and this is a time when we should bury the past, and strike in tho present lor tho future. Your country demands your services, and you ought to forget all your personal affairs and private wrongs, to save the honor of the Southern States.’ These words of Ernest, had a marked effect on Walter. He seem ed to bo roused, as if from sleep, and replied with much earnestness, ‘My dear, my faithful friend ! Your heart was cast in a pure and noble mould; and 1 even now rejoice to be reassured of your friendship.” • ‘There is one act of mine which does not reflect much credit on my friendship. Those infidel works' But trust me, Walter—l knew not what I did when I placed them in your hands. If you will review your life, you will trace much of your want of faith in humanity to their influence.’ ‘I have renounced my infidelity, Ernest,’ said Walter, before he could proceed farther, ‘ I now believe in a God —Ah ! how I am reminded of how and when I was forced to ac knowledge a Creator ! I have suf fered much, dear Ernest. 1 have trie ) the world and found it hollow. Much pleasure was seen in the dis tance; but when I reached forward, I held in my grasp tho very worm-, wood of the wretched. You romind me, however, that I may make my life more useful to my country than I had dreamed it might be. Were I a Christian, perhaps I could review my misfortune, and say, ‘Thy will be done.’ ’ ‘ I am happy to say too, that I am not an infidel now. Your mother’s prayers, as you know, made ine pause and think. As soon as I left school I read the Bible carefully; and was forced to acknowledge its truths. I have since endeavored to find that peace which passeth understanding! It is getting quite late, and both of us need rest. 1 hope Walter, you will not refuse to serve as our adju tant. Walter was not inclined to sleep— Trene’s face still haunted him, and he thought if she iovod Lieut. Lyle, why was she so thin and pale; and if she did not love him why was his letter treated with silent contempt? But he resolved again to forget her and endeavored to sleep. The sound of the drum awaked Walter and Ernest, with tho rest of the regiment, to be ready for‘roll* call.’ Walter felt weak and sick—he found it impossible to shake off tho burden which weighed down his spir its. He remained in the tent all tho morning—was too unwell to go out to the election. The citizens living near the camp had come in during the forenoon, and brought largo bas kets of provisions for the volun teers, and Ernest went to soo if he would come out to the dinner, spread so bountifully beneath the shade of the large oaks. Walter was alone in tho tent, reading the Bible which Irene had given him in Augusta. ‘ Come, Walter,’ said he, ‘lknow the tempting viands offered to our regiment by the kind ladies of this section, will give you an appetite ! Will you come with me?’ ‘ If I can add anything to your en joyment, I will go Ernest; though my feelings to-day, will ill-accord with the gaiety of that crowd.’ Ernest reminded him that he had promised to cheer up, and they left the tent. When they were near the crowd, Ernest whispered that Mrs. Somers and her daughter were there. This information nerved Walter to cast off his gloom. ‘ She must not see the wretch she has made me,’ he thought. • Mrs. Somei\3 evinced painful agita tion as the two young men walked proudly to a position fronting her self and daughter. But nothing could be more self-controlled than Walter’s demeanor during the meal. Irene’s face flushed as on the preceding eve ning; but was again very pale as he acknowledged their acquaintance by a distant bow. Ho watched her closely, and felt sure that she loved him still. ‘ But,’ he asked himself, ‘ will she crush her heart, and stifle its pleadings for the sake of ambi tion ?’ He thought she was still ig norant of his fortune, and supposed her parents had induced her to reject him for Lyle’s title and wealth. He left the scene immediately af ter dinner, and returned to his tent, resolving that ho would faithfully discharge the duties of the office which ho had accepted; and in being devoted to his country’s cause, ho hoped to lose sight of the past. In a few days, the regiment was order-* ed to Virginia. Just before leaving he hoard that Irene was very ill. [To be Continued .]