"Later, she confided to me that she had entrusted Vernon with the request to secure a passport for Selina Talmage and her horse, Imp, going home to Happy Hills, Pennsylvania. The passport came that day in a letter for Rebecca explaining how I was to go and to whom I was to entrust myself. A note for me was inclosed in the letter, and I read it with a smile. Vernon said he would demand payment for the favor given me as soon as he reached Happy Hills. Rebecca teased me about that note and said that she knew what the favor would be, for Vernon was in love with me. I pooh-poohed the suggestion but felt very glad to pack my clothes for home. In a few days word came that I was to ride to a certain town where an escort would meet me and conduct me to the nearest railroad. And so Imp and I went home."
"And now tell us, Aunt Selina, did Vernon come home and ask that favor?" wondered Norma, interested in a love-story.
"Oh, yes! He had leave of absence for several months to fully recover from the wound that had partially punctured a lung. He used to ride over to Happy Hills every day, and I tell you we missed him when he returned to his regiment."
"Where is he now, Aunt Selina?" asked Ruth.
"Gone--his name is carved on the monument at Washington for bravery in the Battle of Bull Run," whispered Aunt Selina.
"Oh, oh, Aunt Selina! Is _he_ the same one you told me about last spring?" gasped Ruth.
Aunt Selina dabbed her tear-moistened eyes and tried to smile as she said, "The same, Honey."
"What's that--tell us, Aunt Selina; we never heard about it," cried several children.
"Well, Vernon came back North about a year after his leave of absence expired with important letters for a general in Philadelphia. After delivering the letters he was to have two days' leave in which to go home and see his folks. He rode over to our house one evening and asked my father and mother if he might pay court to me when the war was over. My parents were delighted, for they knew him and liked him. Vernon and I walked out to the very summer house that Ruth was in when she thought of the farm plan, and there he told me what he had said to my parents. He would not bind me, for he said he might never come back. But I said it would make no difference to me--if he never returned I would wait just the same. We exchanged rings--one which had been given me for my birthday and one he had received on his twenty-first birthday. When he left that night mother gave him a paper, but I never knew what was in it until later. When news of his bravery and death came home, the letter contained a ring and a small daguerreotype picture of me. Then mother said he had asked for it the night he went away."