That bear me onward cheerily,
And through Time’s glass the sand shall pass
From morn till evening merrily,
From morn till evening merrily ...’
Love launched a fairy boat—”
Margaret rose quickly. The others with exclamations gathered around as the mother laid the slight figure on the sofa.
“She is frightfully unwell,” said Margaret. “Will—Richard—the strain of this war that should never have been!” She loosened the girl’s dress at the throat, bathed her temples. “There, my dear, there, my dear—”
Miriam sat up. “What is the matter? The world got all black.... Let us go home, mother.”
They only waited for the stage to come in. From the carriage, drawn up near the post-office, they watched it rumble up, within its depths a hurt soldier or two and the usual party of refugeeing women and children. The jaded horses stopped before the post-office; the driver climbed down with the mail-bag, all the town came hurrying. A man standing on a box, beneath the bulletin board, began to read in a loud voice from an unfolded paper: “Cavalry encounters along the Rapidan—General Lee in Richmond conferring with the President—Longstreet’s corps taking train at Louisa Court-House. Destination presumably Tennessee.—Cumberland Gap. Tennessee. September ninth. To-day General Frazer, surrounded and cut off by superior force of enemy, surrendered with two thousand men—”
The Three Oaks’ carriage went heavily homeward, up and over the long hills. A light from the west was on the Blue Ridge, the sky clear, the winds laid. At last they saw the home hill, and the three giant oaks.