“I have been waiting long to do so, Mohun,” I said. “Speak, but first hear me. There is a man in this army who is the soul of honor. Since my father’s death I value his good opinion more than that of all others—it is Robert E. Lee. Well, come with me if you choose, and I will go to Lee with you, and place my hand upon your shoulder, and say: ‘General, this is my friend! I vouch for him; I am proud of his regard. Think well of him, or badly of me too!’ Are you satisfied?”
Mohun smiled sadly.
“I knew all that,” he said. “Do you think I can not read men, Surry? Long since I gave you in my heart the name of friend, and I knew that you had done as much toward me. Come, then! Go to my camp with me; in the evening we will take a ride. I am going to conduct you to a spot where we can talk without interruption, the exact place where the crimes of which I shall speak were committed.”
And resuming the gallop, Mohun led the way, amid the trailing festoons, through the fallen logs, across the Rowanty.
Half an hour afterward we had reached his camp.
As the sun began to decline we again mounted our horses.
Pushing on rapidly we reached a large house on a hill above the Nottoway, and entered the tall gateway at the moment when the great windows were all ablaze in the sunset.