XV. — MOHUN AGAIN.
Three days after my arrival, I mounted my horse, crossed the Appomattox, followed the Boydton road, struck southward at the Quaker road, and soon found myself in the heart of the shadowy pine woods of that singular country, Dinwiddie.
My official duty was to inspect and report the condition of the cavalry and horse artillery of the army at the beginning and middle of each month. And now, first assuring the reader that I performed my duty in all weather, and amid every difficulty, I will drop the official phase of my history, and proceed to matters rather more entertaining.
On the day after my departure from Petersburg, I had made my inspections, and was returning.
I had been received by my old friends of the cavalry with every mark of cordial regard. General Hampton, General Lee, and the various officers and men whom I had known as a staff-officer of General Stuart, seemed to welcome the sight of a face which, perhaps, reminded them of their dead leader; and I had pressed all these warm hands, and received these friendly greetings not without emotion—for I, too, was carried back to the past.
I saw Mordaunt and Davenant, but not Mohun—he was absent, visiting his picket line. Mordaunt was the same stately soldier—his grave and friendly voice greeted me warmly as in old days; and Willie Davenant, now a major, commanding a battalion of horse artillery, shook hands with me, as shy and blushing as before—and even more sad.
“How had his suit prospered? Were things more encouraging?”
I asked him these questions with a laugh, apologizing for my intrusion.
He assured me sadly that it was not in the least an intrusion; but that he had not seen the person to whom I alluded, for many months.
And executing a blush which would have become a girl, this young tiger of the horse artillery—for such he always proved himself, in a fight—hastened to change the subject. Soon afterward I took my departure, turned my horse’s head toward Petersburg, and set out at a round trot between the walls of pine.
It was dusk when I reached the debouchment of the “military road,” and, tired and hungry, I was contemplating ruefully the long ride still before me, when rapid hoof-strokes behind me attracted my attention, and, turning my head, I recognized the bold figure of Mohun.
He was mounted on a fine animal, and came at full speed.
In a moment he had caught up, recognized, and we exchanged a warm grasp of the hand.
“I am delighted to see you, Surry. I thought you had deserted us, old fellow. The sight of you is a treat!”
“And the sight of you, my dear Mohun. You look beaming.”
Indeed, Mohun had never presented a better appearance, with his dark eyes; his tanned and glowing cheeks; his raven mustached lips, which, parting with a smile, showed white and regular teeth. He was the picture of a gallant soldier; all his old melancholy and cynical bitterness gone, as mist is swept away by the morning sunshine.
“You are positively dazzling, Mohun. Where are you going, and what has happened to you? Ah!—I begin to understand!”
And pointing northward, I said:—
“Five Forks is not far from here, is it?”
Mohun colored, but, the next moment, burst into laughter.
“You are right, old friend! It is impossible to hide any thing from you.”
“And a friend of yours is there—whom you are going to see?”
“Yes, my dear Surry,” was his reply, in a voice of sudden earnestness, “you are not mistaken, and you see I am like all the rest of the world. When we first met on the Rapidan, I was a woman-hater. I despised them all, for I had had reason. That was my state of mind, when a very beautiful and noble girl, whom you have seen, crossed my path. Events threw us together—first, the wound I received at Fleetwood—she caught me as I was falling on that day—and several times afterward I saw and conversed with her, finding her proud, satirical, indifferent to admiration, but as honest and true as steel. Still, our relations did not proceed beyond friendship, and when I told you one day in the Wilderness that I was not her suitor, I spoke the truth. I am not exactly able to say as much to-day!—But to finish my account of myself: I came here to Dinwiddie on the right of the army, and a week or two after my arrival the enemy made a cavalry raid toward the Southside railroad. I followed, and came up with them as they were plundering a house not far from Five Forks. Well, I charged and drove them into the woods—when, who should make her appearance at the door but Miss Conway, whom I had last seen in Culpeper! As you know, her father resides here—he is now at Richmond—and, after following the enemy back to their own lines, hurrying them up with sabre and carbine, I came back to inquire the extent of their depredations at Five Forks.
“Such is the simple explanation of the present ‘situation,’ my dear friend. Miss Virginia cordially invited me to come whenever I could do so, and although Miss Georgia was less pressing—in fact, said nothing on the subject—I was not cast down thereby! I returned, have been often since, and—that’s all.”
Mohun laughed the heart’s laugh. You have heard that, have you not, reader? “Now tell me about yourself,” he added, “and on the way to Five Forks! I see you are tired and hungry. Come! they have the easiest chairs yonder, and are the soul of hospitality!”
The offer was tempting. Why not accept it? My hesitation lasted exactly three seconds.
At the end of that time, I was riding beside Mohun in the direction of Five Forks, which we reached just as I terminated my account of myself since Mohun and I had parted in the Wilderness.