Benson did the only thing he could think of under the circumstances. He wired, putting him off until the end of the week; which brought an immediate reply. Southerland now wished to know if his offer was accepted; and to this, Benson could only answer in the affirmative.
But even after the deed was drawn up, it lay on his desk for two days; and then it was only the apprehension that Southerland might present himself to Virginia, that induced the lawyer to conclude the purchase.
When he reached Wheeling, and Southerland saw the deed, he was not a little surprised. But he was an excellent man of business himself, in all that the term could imply by the most liberal construction that could be put upon it; and he decided that the smooth-faced lawyer was a sharp hand himself; and made no comment.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
IT was an April morning, mild and warm, in the rutted roads, in the pillaged, trampled fields the sassafras and honey-locust had claimed for their abiding place, two armies were drawn up. Between them, skirmishers moved with the brisk rattle of musketry; while at intervals dull echoes woke to flow reverberatingly across the wasted land.
Suddenly the firing ceased. The long line of advancing men in blue halted. The enemy was withdrawing and was rapidly disappearing from view in the direction of Appomattox Court House.
In front of many of the regiments the officers had formed in groups, and from group to group spread the news that the expected battle was not to be fought.
“A white flag,” one would say, and then they would fall to shaking hands, silently, ceremoniously. If there was any doubt expressed, there was the answer ready: “It's so—I tell you it's so! They got it from a staff-officer who said it was so!”