And so, presently, her hands fell into mine, and our lips joined slowly, and rested.
We said no word. I left her standing there in the golden twilight of the curtains, and got to my saddle,—God knows how,—and rode away beside the quiet river to the certain destiny that no man ever can hope to hinder or escape.
CHAPTER XXXI
"IN THE VALLEY"
On the 24th of June, 1777, Major General Lord Stirling had disobeyed the orders of His Excellency; and, in consequence, his flank was turned, he lost two guns and 150 men.[44]
It is the only military mistake that my Lord Stirling ever made; the only lesson he ever had to learn in military judgment and obedience.
I was of his family for three years,—serving as one of his secretaries and aids-de-camp.
I was present at the battle of Brandywine; I served under him at Germantown in the fog, and at Monmouth; and never doubted that my Lord Stirling was a fine and capable and knightly soldier, if not possibly a great one.
Yet, perhaps, there was only one great soldier in that long and bloody war of the American Revolution. I need not name His Excellency.