XXIII. — WHAT I SAW FROM THE GRAVE OF STUART.
Three hours afterward I was in Richmond.
Sent with a message for General Ewell, I had taken the last train which left for the capital, and reached the city toward midnight.
The first person whom I saw was Tom Herbert, who ran to meet me. His face was pale, but his resolute smile still lit up the brave face.
“Come and wait on me, my dear old friend,” he said; “I am to be married to-night!”
And in a few words he informed me that Katy had consented to have the ceremony performed before Tom followed General Lee southward.
Half an hour afterward I witnessed a singular spectacle: that of a wedding, past midnight, in the midst of hurry, confusion, uproar, universal despair—the scene, a city about to fall into the hands of the enemy—from which the government and all its defenders had fled.{1}
{Footnote 1: Real.}
Katy acted her part bravely. The rosy cheeks were unblanched still—the sweet smile was as endearing. When I took an old friend’s privilege to kiss the smiling lips, there was no tremor in them, and her blue eyes were as brave as ever.