A rainy spring followed a cold and dismal winter, and although early in April the weather cleared for a time, it brought no cheer to the South. General Lee was near Richmond with his army, and about him were the Union forces under Grant. The Confederacy was making its last stand, though there were very few in the South who would acknowledge the condition. In the May household there was little to indicate that a crisis existed in the cause for which they all worked. So far the cruelties of war had passed them by, but one bright morning Hal was brought home by his colored body-servant, Big Jim, quite out of his senses from a bad saber wound in the head and a crippled leg. Mrs. May, with admirable fortitude, welcomed him, glad to have her son back to nurse and thanking Heaven it was no worse. Big Jim’s story of the incident reflected a good deal of credit upon himself and he seemed immensely proud of his successful meeting of the emergency, and was never tired of talking about it. “I drug the Lil’ Marse out o’ the battle and the doctor he done fix him up on the road,” Jim explained. “Den the Colonel, hisself, was brung by wounded an’ the doctor, he had to go off wif him so he tol’ me to carry Lil’ Marse to the horspital. But I seen ouah sogers when they comes out of them places wifout they’s laigs, or they’s arms, or they’s eyes, an’ I says, ‘Big Jim, Ol’ Miss gwine for you somethin’ turrible, if you on’y brings back chunks of Lil’ Marse,’ so I done brung him (all o’ him, mind), right here and didn’t go near no horspital, where like as not they’d done ampitate his haid like they do arms and laigs. Now you-all fix him up jes’ to suit yourselves.” That was Big Jim’s story, and from then on the entire household revolved about the sick-room and even the news of battles became of secondary importance. In the afternoon Harriot, being free of her governess, proposed to carry the news to Corinne; for Mrs. Stewart, in spite of her many threats of immediate departure, was still in Washington. “We may get some poundcake, you know,” Harriot suggested as an added inducement, but there was a lack of conviction in her tone. “I’ll go if we take the short cut,” Dorothea answered, meaning a path through a strip of woods on the outskirts of the town, which was a most beautiful and densely shaded place running for miles through hill and swamp. It was a favorite resort of Dorothea’s, and she loved to wander along the narrow path, through the heavy undergrowth, and fancy herself far away from civilization. Harriot consented to this cheerfully enough, although she had meant to drive to her aunt’s, and the two set off. Corinne was not visible when they arrived, but Mrs. Stewart welcomed them with her usual cordiality. “Make yourselves perfectly at home, my dears,” she said in greeting. “You will excuse me, I know; but I have so many things to do. We are leaving ’most any day now.”