Eggleston gazed a moment at the retreating army. Duty and affection struggled in his heart.
"I will," he said.
CHAPTER V
CONCLUSION
The strife is done. The conflict has ceased. The wounds are healed. North and South are one. East and West are even less. The Civil War is over. Lee is dead. Grant is buried in New York. The Union Pacific runs from Omaha to San Francisco. There is total prohibition in the United States. The output of dressed beef last year broke all records.
And Eggleston Lee Carey Randolph survives, hale and hearty, bright and cheery, free and easy—and so forth. There is grey hair upon his temples (some, not much), and his step has lost something of its elasticity (not a great deal), and his form is somewhat bowed (though not really crooked).
But he still lives there in the farmstead at Gettysburg, and Leonora, now, like himself, an old woman, is still at his side.
You may see him any day. In fact, he is the old man who shows you over the battlefield for fifty cents and explains how he himself fought and won the great battle.