Isabey, standing outside the door, heard this, and bowed his head in reverence. He had seen this indomitable courage of the Southern women before, and he recognized all its beauty and splendor--this calm surrender of their best beloved, this readiness to see the dearest of their hearts laid upon the Bed of Honor. It was a time when tragedies moved rapidly, and Richard Tremaine’s body was laid in the old burying ground before sunset of that day. It had been impossible to get a clergyman in time. It was Colonel Tremaine himself who, in a steady voice, read the burial service. The faithful negro servants, headed by Hector and Peter, carried Richard Tremaine to his last resting place. In the waning afternoon the solemn procession took its way across the open field and into the old burial ground with the decaying brick walls and the moss-grown tombs. Mrs. Tremaine walked with Colonel Tremaine, and her step was steadier than his. She carried in her hand a small Testament, and grasped it as if she could not bear to part with it. Angela walked with Archie, and next them came Isabey with Lyddon, and last of all came Madame Isabey and Adrienne, followed by every negro on the place. Isabey thought Lyddon would drop as he stood at the foot of the grave, so pallid was he, so totally unnerved. It was Mrs. Tremaine who spoke words of courage to him. “Take comfort,” she said. “We shall all meet again in a place of refreshment, light, and peace.” Colonel Tremaine’s voice grew steady as he uttered the awful words, “Dust to dust,” and threw the first shovelful of earth upon the coffin in which lay so much of pride and joy, excellence and comeliness of mind and body as had died with Richard Tremaine. When the grave was filled up and the mound made into shape, those who loved Richard Tremaine best walked back through the October twilight to the old house which was to know him no more. Archie went and put on his brother’s gray uniform, from which the officer’s insignia of rank had been cut. Before the main door stood Richard Tremaine’s horse, saddled and bridled and accoutered, and another horse for Peter. When he came out upon the porch, Mrs. Tremaine took Archie in her arms and, kissing him, said: “Take your brother’s place, and be worthy of him and of your father.” “I will, mother,” answered the boy, weeping, while he kissed her. Colonel Tremaine, placing his hands upon Archie’s uncovered head, said to him: “You are our Benjamin, but we give you willingly. Remember, boy, that your mother and I shall require a good account of you.”