Stuart continued to gaze at me, and I could see his eyes slowly fill with tears.
“It is a national calamity!” he murmured. “Jackson’s loss is irreparable!”{1}
{Footnote 1: His words.}
He remained for a moment gazing into my face, then passing his hand over his forehead, he banished by a great effort these depressing memories. His bold features resumed their habitual cheerfulness.
Our dialogue was brief, and came rapidly to the point.
“Have you been assigned to duty yet, my dear Surry?”
“I have not, general.”
“Would you like to come with me?”
“More than with any general in the army, since Jackson’s death. You know I am sincere in saying that.”
“Thanks—then the matter can be very soon arranged, I think. I want another inspector-general, and want you.”