The heavy firing rose and sank, rose again, then finally died in the now full night. The ridge commanding the bridge to the south, held by Dodge and Logan of McPherson’s corps, was not retaken. Tidings that it was not came to the group by Selden’s battery. And on the heels of this came another breathless messenger. “General—from General Martin! He reports that the enemy have thrown pontoons across the Oostenaula near Calhoun. They crossed two divisions this afternoon.” Silence for a moment, then Johnston spoke crisply. “Very well! If he crosses, I cross. General Hood, the order for the advance at daybreak is revoked.” He spoke to an aide. “Get the staff together!—General Walker, you will at once take the road to Calhoun with your division. Is Colonel Prestman here?—Colonel, the engineers are to lay to-night a pontoon bridge across the Oostenaula, a mile above the old bridges. General Hardee—What is it, General Hood?” “Not to attack in the morning! General Johnston, do you not think—” “I do occasionally, sir. At present I think that General Sherman ardently desires to place himself in our rear.” “We rolled them back this afternoon! And if at dawn we accomplish even more—” “Yes, sir, ‘if.’ You ‘rolled back,’ very gallantly, part of the Fourth Army Corps.” “But, sir,—” “Circumstances, sir, alter cases. It was General Sherman’s intention to place a huge army astride the railroad here at Resaca. That intention was defeated. He proposes now to cross the Oostenaula and cut our lines at Calhoun. It is that movement that demands our attention.” “I only know, sir, that it is expected at Richmond that we take the offensive.” “Yes, sir. Many things are expected at Richmond.—You have your order, General. Now, General Hardee—” An hour or two later, the commander of the Army of Tennessee returned with Hardee from the left toward which they had ridden. The two were friends as well as superior and subordinate. Johnston had great warmth of nature; he was good lover, good hater. Now he rode quietly, weary, but steadily thinking. The light of the house behind Selden’s battery appeared, a yellow point in the thickened air. “How far that little candle ... Hardee! I’ve had ten wounds in battle, but before this summer ends I’m going to have a worse wound than any!” “I don’t know what you mean, General,” said Hardee. “Don’t you?” said Johnston. “Well, well! perhaps I shan’t be wounded. The stars are over us all.—Here is the house.” As the two dismounted, an aide came forward. “There is some one waiting here, General, to speak to you. A lady—Mrs. Cary—” Désirée came into the light from the open door. “Mrs. Cary!” exclaimed Hardee. “How in the world—” Johnston took her hand in his. It was cold, and the light showed her face. “My dear, what is it—”