XVIII. — THE BRIDEGROOM.
I have endeavored to present a rapid, but accurate summary of the great events which took place on the lines around Petersburg, from the morning of the 29th of March, when General Grant began his general movement, to the night of the 31st, when he confronted Lee on the White Oak road, ready, after a day of incessant combat, which had decided little, to renew the struggle on the next morning for the possession of the Southside road.
This summary has been, of necessity, a brief and general one. For this volume has for its object, rather to narrate the fortunes of a set of individuals, than to record the history of an epoch, crowded with tragic scenes. I cannot here paint the great picture. The canvass and the time are both wanting. The rapid sketch which I have given will present a sufficient outline. I return, now, to those personages whose lives I have tried to narrate, and who were destined to reach the catastrophe in their private annals at the moment when the Confederacy reached its own.
I shall, therefore, beg the reader to leave the Confederate forces at bay on the White Oak road—the flanking column under Pickett and Johnson falling back on Five Forks—and accompany me to the house of the same name, within a mile of the famous carrefour, where, on the night of the 31st of March, some singular scenes are to be enacted.
It was the night fixed for Mohun’s marriage. I had been requested to act as his first groomsman; and, chancing to encounter him during the day, he had informed me that he adhered to his design of being married in spite of every thing.
When night came at last, on this day of battles, I was wearied out with the incessant riding on staff duty; but I remembered my promise; again mounted my horse; and set out for “Five Forks,” where, in any event, I was sure of a warm welcome.
Pushing on over the White Oak road, I turned southward at Five Forks, and riding on toward Judge Conway’s, had just reached the road coming in from Dinwiddie Court-House, when I heard a cavalier approaching from that quarter, at a rapid gallop.
He was darting by, toward Five Forks, when by the starlight I recognized Mohun.
“Halt!” I shouted.
He knew my voice, and drew rein with an exclamation of pleasure.
“Thanks, my dear old friend,” he said, grasping my hand. “I knew you would not fail me.”
“Your wedding will take place, Mohun?”
“Yes, battle or no battle.”
“You are right. Life is uncertain. You will hear cannon instead of marriage-bells probably, at your nuptials—but that will be inspiring. What is the news from the Court-House?”
“Our infantry is falling back.”
“The condition of the roads stopped them?”
“Yes, it was impossible to get on; and they have been recalled by order of General Lee. Listen! There is the column coming—they are falling back to Five Forks, a mile north of Judge Conway’s.”
In fact, as we rode on now, I heard the muffled tramp of a column, and the rattle of artillery chains in the woods.
“The enemy will follow, I suppose?”
“Not before morning, I hope.”
I smiled.
“Meanwhile you are making good use of the time to get married. What will you do with Miss Georgia?”
“You mean Mrs. Mohun, Surry!” he said, smiling.
“Yes.”
“Well, she will be sent off—her father will take the whole family to Petersburg in the morning, to avoid the battle which will probably take place in this vicinity to-morrow.”
“You are right. I predict a thundering fight here, in the morning.”
“Which I hope I shall not balk in, my dear Surry,” said Mohun, smiling.
“Is there any danger of that?”
“I really don’t know. It is not good for a soldier to be too happy. It makes him shrink from bullets, and raises visions of a young widow, in mourning, bending over a tomb.”
“Pshaw! stop that folly!” I said. “Is it possible that a stout-hearted cavalier like General Mohun can indulge in such apprehensions—and at a moment as happy as this?”
I saw him smile sadly, in the dim starlight. “I am much changed,” he said, gently; “I no longer risk my life recklessly—trying to throw it away. Once, as you know, Surry, I was a poor outcast, and my conscience was burdened with a terrible crime. Life was little to me, then, and I would not have cared if a bullet cut it short. I was reckless, desperate, and had no hope. Now, I have hope—and a great deal more than all—I have happiness. My hands are not stained with the blood of that man and woman—I have the love of a pure girl who is going to give her life to me—and I have prayed to God for pardon, and been pardoned, I feel—else that All-merciful Being would not make my poor life bright again! But let me stop this talk! A strange conversation for a wedding night! Let me say again, however, my dear Surry, that I have no enmities now. I no longer hate that man, and would not harm that woman for aught on earth. Let them go—they are indifferent to me. I appeal to God to witness the purity of my sentiments, and the sincerity with which I have prayed, ‘Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who have trespassed against us!’”
I reached out my hand in the darkness, and pressed that of the speaker.
“You are right, Mohun—there is something greater, more noble, than vengeance—it is forgiveness. More than ever, I can say now of you, what I said after hearing your history that night.”
“What was that, old friend?”
“That you were no longer the bitter misanthrope, hating your species, and snarling at all things—no longer the gay cavalier rushing to battle as a pastime—that you were altered, entirely changed, rather—that your character was elevated and purified—and that now, you were a patriotic soldier, fit to live or die with Lee!”
“Would that I were!” he murmured, letting his head fall upon his breast.
“That is much to say of any man; but I will add more. You are worthy of her—the blossom of Five Forks!”
As I uttered these words, we reached the gate.
A moment afterward we had entered the grounds, tethered our horses, and were hastening to the house.