“My spurs--those always worn in battle--I promised to give to Mrs. Lily Lee, at Shepherdstown. My sabre I leave to my son.” His horses and equipments were then given to his staff--his papers directed to be sent to his wife. A prayer was then offered by the minister at his bedside: his lips moved as he repeated the words. As the prayer ended he murmured:-- “I am going fast now--I am resigned. God’s will be done!”[1] [Footnote 1: His words.] As the words escaped from his lips, he expired. BOOK III. BEHIND THE SCENES. I. WHAT I DID NOT SEE. I was not at Stuart’s bedside when he died. While aiding the rest to hold him in the saddle, I had been shot through the shoulder; and twenty-four hours afterward I lay, at the house of a friend in Richmond, turning and tossing with fever. In my delirium I heard a mournful tolling of bells. It was many days, however, before I knew that they were tolling for Stuart. When, at last, after more than a month’s confinement to my bed, I rose, and began to totter about,--pale, faint, and weak, but convalescent--my great loss, for the first time, struck me in all its force. Where should I turn now--and whither should I go? Jackson dead at Chancellorsville--Stuart at Yellow Tavern--thenceforth I seemed to have lost my support, to grope and totter in darkness, without a guide! These two kings of battle had gone down in the storm, and, like the Knight of Arthur, I looked around me, with vacant and inquiring eyes, asking whither I was now to direct my steps, and what work I should work in the coming years. Jackson! Stuart!--who could replace them? They had loved and trusted me--their head-quarters had been my home. Now, when they disappeared, I had no friends, no home; and an inexpressible sense of loss descended upon me, as a dark cloud descends and obscures a landscape, smiling and full of sunshine. Another woe had come to me. My father was dead. The war had snapped the chords of that stout heart as it snapped the chords of thousands, and the illustrious head of the house had descended into the tomb. From this double blow I scarcely had strength to rise. For weeks I remained in a sort of dumb stupor; and was only aroused from it by the necessity of looking after my family affairs. As soon as I had strength to mount my horse, I rode to Eagle’s Nest. A good aunt had come and installed herself as the friend and protector of my little Annie; and with the arms of my young sister around me, I wept for my father. I remained at Eagle’s Nest more than two months. The long ride had made the wound in my shoulder reopen, and I was again stretched upon a bed of illness, from which, at one time, I thought I should not rise. More than once I made a narrow escape from scouting parties of Federal cavalry in the neighborhood; and on one occasion, an officer entered my chamber, but left me unmolested, under the impression that I was too ill to live.