Judith and Unity Cary walked up Grace Street together. They were not wearing black; Warwick Cary had never liked it. Moreover, in this year of the war a black gown and bonnet and veil would cost a fearful amount, and there were known to be women and children starving. The day was bright and warm, with drifts of perfume. An officer of the President’s staff lifted his cap, then walked beside them. “Isn’t it a lovely day?—If I were a king with a hundred palaces, I should have around each one a brick wall with wistaria over it!” “No, dark red roses—” “I shouldn’t have a wall at all—unless it were one with a number of gates—and only one palace! A reasonable palace, with an unreasonable number of white roses—” A lieutenant-colonel, aged twenty-six, with an arm in a sling, and a patch over one eye, here joined them. “Good morning! Isn’t it a lovely day! I was just thinking it wasn’t half so lovely a day as the days are at Greenwood, and lo and behold! just then it became just as lovely!—What do you think! It’s confirmed that Beauregard is on his way from North Carolina—” “Good!” “‘_Beau canon, Beauregard! Beau soldat, Beauregard! Beau sabreur! beau frappeur! Beauregard! Beauregard!_’ Now I’ve shocked that old lady crossing the street! Harry, tell her it was a Russian hymn!” They walked on beneath the bright trees. “The —— wedding has been postponed,” said Unity. “They thought there was time, but two days before the day they had set, he had to go. It will be as soon as he comes back.” “By George! but I was at a wedding out in Hanover!” said the lieutenant-colonel. “The bride was dressed in homespun, with a wreath of apple blossoms. The bridesmaids were in black, just taken as they were from all the neighbouring families. The groom had lost his arm and a piece of shell at Mine Run had cut away an ear, just as neat! The best man was a lame civilian who had somehow inherited and held fast a beautiful black broadcloth suit,—very tight pantaloons and a sprigged velvet waistcoat! He had acted, he told me, as best man at thirty weddings in the last year ‘because he had the clothes.’ The wedding guests had come in what they had and it was a wonderful display. The bride had six brothers and a father marching on the Wilderness, and the groom was just out of hospital. There were three wounded cousins in the house, and in the stable a favourite war-horse being doctored for a sabre cut. Most of the servants had left, but there was a fiddler still on the place, and we danced till midnight. There was a Confederate bridecake, and a lot of things made with dried apples and sorghum. By George, it was fine!” “The bell!”