There she sat, looking at the clouds as they floated by, dark as her own prospects were.

The morning dawned and saw her still there.

It was a beautiful morning, but the warble of the bird in a tree near by, as he poured forth his morning song, awoke no echo in the heart of the soldier's wife.

All was cheerless within her.

The brightness of the morning only acted like a gleam of light at the mouth of a cavern.