“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.