A rude wagon was drawn to the roadside, its rough boards covered with leafy boughs, and the Union and the Confederate officer were placed in it side by side. Then the minister climbed into his old-fashioned gig, his daughter sprang lightly in by his side, took the reins and slowly led the way, followed by the extemporized hearse, while Graham on his horse rode at the feet of his friend, chief mourner in bitter truth. The negroes who had buried the dead walked on either side of the wagon bareheaded and oblivious of the summer sun, and the country people and villagers streamed along the road after the simple procession. The bodies were first taken to the parsonage, and the stains of battle removed by an old colored aunty, a slave of the clergyman. Graham gave into the care of the clergyman's daughter Hilland's sword and some other articles that he did not wish to carry on his return to the Union lines. Among these was an exquisite likeness of Grace smiling in her happy loveliness. Tears again rushed into the young girl's eyes as she asked in accents of deepest commiseration: "And will you have to break the news to her?" "No," said Graham hoarsely; "I could not do that. I'd rather face a thousand guns than that poor wife." "Why do you not keep the likeness?" "I could not look upon it and think of the change which this fatal day will bring to those features. I shall leave it with you until she comes for his sword and to visit his grave. No one has a better right to it than you, and in this lovely face you see the promise of your own womanhood reflected. You have not told me your name. I wish to know it, for I shall love and cherish it as one of my most sacred memories." "Margarita Anderson," was the blushing reply. "Papa and my friends call me Rita." "Let me call you what your name signifies, and what you have proved yourself to be--Pearl. Who is Henry?" "My only brother. He is a captain in our army." "You are a true Southern girl?" "Yes, in body and soul I'm a Southern girl;" and her dark eyes flashed through her tears. "So was the original of this likeness. She is kin to you in blood and feeling as well as in her noble qualities; but she loved her Northern husband more than the whole world, and all in it was nothing compared with him. She will come and see you some day, and words will fail her in thanks." "And will you come with her?" "I don't know. I may be dead long before that time." The young girl turned away, and for some reason her tears flowed faster than ever before. "Pearl, my tender-hearted child, don't grieve over what would be so small a grief to me. This evil day has clouded your young life with the sadness of others. But at your age it will soon pass;" and he returned to his friend and took from him the little mementoes that he knew would be so dear to Grace.