“Come, General Cary,” said Lee, “and you, too, gentlemen,—come and give your hands to Colonel Cleave. Then we will say good night.” The little ceremony was over, the kindly words were spoken. One by one the officers saluted and left the tent, Fauquier Cary tarrying in obedience to a sign from Lee. When all were gone, the General spoke to Cleave whom he had been watching. “You would like a word alone with—” His eyes indicated Stafford. “Yes, General, if I may—” “I am going across for a moment to General Stuart’s. I will leave you here until I return.” He moved toward the tent opening. “Richard,” said Cary,—“Richard, I have no words—” He dropped his kinsman’s hands; then, in following Lee, passed within a few feet of Stafford. He made a gesture of indignation and grief, then went by with closed lips and eyelids that drooped. Stafford felt the scorn like a breath from hot iron. The tent was empty now save for the two. “We cannot stop here,” said Cleave. “I must go farther. Why have you changed? Or are we still wearing masks?” “If there is any mask I do not know it,” said the other. “What is change, and why do we change? We have not found that out. But there is a fact somewhere, and I have—changed. I will answer what you will not ask. I love her, yes!—love her so well now that I would have her happy. I have written to her, and in my letter I said farewell. She will show it to you if you wish.” “I do not wish—” “No,” said Stafford. “I believe that you do not. Richard Cleave, I have not somehow much feeling left in me, but.... You remember the evening of Chantilly, when I came to Pelham’s guns? In the darkness I felt you threatening me.” “Yes.” “Well, I did all that you knew of me, and I was all, I suppose, that you thought me.... There is never any real replacement, any real atonement. To my mind there is something childish in all our glib asking for forgiveness. I do not know that I ask you for your forgiveness. I wish you to know, however, that the old inexcusable hatred is dead in my soul. If ever the time arrives when you shall say to yourself ‘I forgive him’—” “I could say it for myself. I could not say it—not yet—_for the regiment_.” Stafford flung out his hand. “I, no more than you, foresaw that ambush beyond the swamp! I meant to procure what should seem your disobedience to General Jackson’s orders. I saw nothing else, thought of nothing else—” “If you had seen it—” The silence held a moment; then said the other painfully, “Yes. You are perhaps right. In what a gulf and hollow man’s being is rooted!... I will not ask again for what I see would be difficult for any man to give—Here is General Lee.”