“I knew it was your regiment—the name was upon every lip, and even our own men unite in declaring it a magnificent sacrifice, a most gallant deed. You must know I thought instantly of you when I was told it was the act of the ——th Virginia.”
There were tears in my eyes, I know, as I listened to her, and my heart warmed at this frank confession of her remembrance.
“I am glad you cared sufficiently for me,” I said gravely, “to hold me in your thought at such a time.
“Our command merely performed the work given it, but the necessity has cost us dearly. You are yet at General Sheridan's headquarters?”
“Only temporarily, and simply because there has been no opportunity to get away, the movements of the army have been so hurried and uncertain. Since the battle Miss Minor has desired to remain until assured of Lieutenant Caton's permanent recovery. He was most severely wounded, and of course I could not well leave her here alone. Indeed I am her guest, as we depart to-morrow for her home, to remain indefinitely.”
“But Miss Minor is, I understand, a native of this State?”
“Her home is in the foot-hills of the Blue Ridge, along the valley of the Cowskin,—a most delightful old Southern mansion. I passed one summer there when a mere girl, previous to the war.”
“But will it prove safe for you now?”
“Oh, indeed, yes; everybody says so. It is entirely out of the track of both armies, and has completely escaped despoliation.”
“I was not thinking of the main combatants, but rather of those irregulars who will be most certain to invade promptly any section not patrolled by disciplined troops. I confess to fearing greatly that there will be an early outpouring of these rascals from the mountains into the adjacent lowlands the moment we are compelled to fall back and let loose the iron grip with which we have held them thus far partially in check. Yet I do not say this to frighten you, or in any way spoil the pleasure of your contemplated visit.”