Jackson, Stonewall, 1824-1863 -- Fiction; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction; War stories
The large, old coach and the saddle horses were brought around. They
drove or rode away, through the April night, by the forsythia and the
flowering almond, between the towering oaks, over the bridge with a
hollow sound. Those left behind upon the Greenwood porch, clustered at
the top of the steps, between the white pillars, stood in silence until
the noise of departure had died away. Warwick Cary, his arm around
Molly, his hand in Judith's, Unity's cheek resting against his shoulder,
then spoke. "It is the last merry-making, poor children! Well--'Time and
tide run through the longest day!'" He disengaged himself, kissed each
of his daughters, and turned toward the lighted hall. "There are papers
in the library which I must go over to-night. Edward, you had best come
with me."
Father and son left the porch. Miss Lucy, too, went indoors, called
Julius, and began to give directions. Ready and energetic, she never
wasted time in wonder at events. The event once squarely met, she
struck immediately into the course it demanded, cheerfully, without
repining, and with as little attention as possible to forebodings. Her
voice died away toward the back of the house. The moon was shining, and
the lawn lay chequered beneath the trees. Corbin Wood, who had been
standing in a brown study, began to descend the steps. "I'll take a
little walk, Judith, my dear," he said, "and think it over! I'll let
myself in." He was gone walking rapidly, not toward the big gate and the
road, but across to the fields, a little stream, and a strip that had
been left of primeval forest. Unity and Molly, moving back to the
doorstep, sat there whispering together in the light from the hall.
Judith and Richard were left almost alone, Judith leaning against a
white pillar, Cleave standing a step or two below her.
"You have been in Richmond?" she said. "Molly had a letter from
Miriam--"
"Yes, I went to find, if possible, rifled muskets for my company. I did
not do as well as I had hoped--the supply is dreadfully small--but I
secured a few. Two thirds of us will have to manage, until we can do
better, with the smoothbore and even with the old flintlock. I have seen
a breech-loader made in the North. I wish to God we had it!"
"You are going back to Botetourt?"
"As soon as it is dawn. The company will at once offer its services to
the governor. Every moment now is important."
"At dawn.... You will be its captain?"
"I suppose so. We will hold immediately an election of officers--and
that's as pernicious a method of officering companies and regiments as
can be imagined! 'They are volunteers, offering all--they can be trusted
to choose their leaders.' I don't perceive the sequence."
"I think that you will make a good captain."
He smiled. "Why, then, the clumsy thing will work for once! I'll try to
be a good captain.--The clock is striking. I do not know when nor how I
shall see Greenwood again. Judith, you'll wish me well?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account