Mohun; Or, the Last Days of Lee and His Paladins Part 8

In a room of the "Barbour House" on Fleetwood Hill, Stuart was writing a dispatch to General Lee.

It was nearly sunset, and the red light was streaming through the windows. On the floor lay a number of wounded men, groaning piteously.

Busily attending to their wants were two young girls--the daughters of Judge Conway, whom I had seen on the night of the ball.

The young ladies, I afterward discovered, had been on a visit to the family occupying the Barbour House; had courageously remained during the whole of the battle--and they were now busily attending to the wants of the wounded.

I was gazing at the eldest--the superb beauty with the disdainful eyes, who had held that wit-combat with her circle of admirers--when Stuart finished his dispatches, and turned around.

"Any reports?" he said briefly to a member of his staff.

"None, general--except that Colonel Mohun is reported killed."

"Mohun! It is impossible! He drove the enemy, and was unhurt. I would not swap him for a hundred, nor a thousand of the enemy!"

"Thank you, general!" said a sonorous voice behind us.

And Mohun entered, making the military salute as he did so.

In his bearing I could discern the same cool pride, mingled with satire. There was only one change in him. He was paler than ever, and I could see that his right shoulder was b.l.o.o.d.y.

As he entered, Miss Georgia Conway, who was bending over a wounded soldier, raised her head and looked at him. Mohun's eye met her own, and he bowed ceremoniously, taking no further notice of her.

At this exhibition of careless indifference I could see Miss Conway's face flush. An expression of freezing hauteur came to the beautiful lips; and the disdainful glance indicated that her _amour propre_ was deeply wounded.

She turned her back upon him abruptly--but as Mohun had already turned his, the movement failed in its object. The officer was looking at Stuart, who had grasped his hand. He winced as the general pressed it, and turned paler, but said nothing.

"Then you are not dead, Mohun!" exclaimed Stuart, laughing.

"Not in the least, general, I am happy to inform you," replied Mohun.

"I am truly glad to hear it! What news?"

"Our party is all over. We followed them up until they recrossed the river--and I owed them this little piece of politeness for I recognized an old acquaintance in the commander of the squadron."

"An acquaintance?"

"A certain Colonel Darke--a charming person, general." And Mohun laughed.

"I recognized him yonder when we charged on the hill, and, at first, he followed his men when they broke. As I got close to him, however, in the woods, he recognized me in turn, and we crossed swords. He is brave--no man braver; and he did his utmost to put an end to me. I had somewhat similar views myself in reference to my friend, the colonel, but his men interposed and prevented my carrying them out. They were all around me, slas.h.i.+ng away. I was nearly cut out of the saddle--I was carried away from my friend in the melee--and the unkindest cut of all was his parting compliment as he retreated through the river."

"What was that, Mohun?"

"A bullet from his pistol, which grazed my shoulder. A mere scratch, but provoking. I saw him grin as he fired."

"An old friend on the Yankee side? Well, that happens," said Stuart--

"Frequently, general," said Mohun; "and this one was _very_ dear, indeed--most tenderly attached to me, I a.s.sure you. My affection for him is of the same endearing nature: and we only crossed sabres in jest--a mere fencing bout for amus.e.m.e.nt. We would not hurt each other for worlds!"

And Mohun's mustache curled with laughter. There was something restless and sinister in it.

Suddenly his face grew paler, and his eyes were half closed.

"Well, Mohun," said Stuart, who was not looking at him; "I am going to send you across the river on a reconnaissance to-night."

"All right, general."

And the officer made the military salute. As he did so, he staggered, and Stuart raised his eyes.

"You are wounded!" he exclaimed.

"A trifle," laughed Mohun.

But as he spoke, his frame tottered; his face a.s.sumed the hue of a corpse; and he would have fallen, had not Miss Georgia Conway started up unconsciously from the wounded man whom she was attending to, and supported the officer in her arms.

Mohun opened his eyes, and a grim smile came to his pale face.

"A pretty tableau!" I heard him murmur; "it would do to put in a romance. A cup of tea--or a pistol--that would finish--"

As he uttered these singular words, the blood gushed from his wounded shoulder, his eyes closed, and, his head falling on the bosom of the young girl, he fainted.

X.

THE SLIM ANIMAL.

Fleetwood was the first gun of the great campaign which culminated on the heights of Gettysburg. A week afterward, Lee's columns were in motion toward Pennsylvania.

Was that invasion the dictate of his own judgment? History will answer.

What is certain is, that the country, like the army, shouted "Forward!"

The people were ablaze with wild enthusiasm; the soldiers flushed with the pride of their great victories of Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville. The authorities at Richmond shared the excitement, and the commissary-general, with unwonted humor, or in sober earnest, indorsed, it is said, upon a requisition for supplies: "If General Lee wishes rations, let him seek them in Pennsylvania."

I doubt if the great commander shared the general agitation. I think he aimed to draw Hooker out of Virginia, leaving the rest to Providence.

So he moved toward the Potomac.

The world had called Lee cautious. After this invasion, that charge was not repeated. From first to last audacity seemed the sentiment inspiring him.

With Hooker on the Rappahannock, threatening Richmond, Lee thrust his advance force under Ewell through the Blue Ridge toward Maryland; pushed Longstreet up to Culpeper to support him, and kept only A.P.

Hill at Fredericksburg to bar the road to the Confederate capital.

Hooker wished to advance upon it, but President Lincoln forbade him.

The dispatch was a queer official doc.u.ment.

"In case you find Lee coming to the north of the Rappahannock," Lincoln wrote, "I would by no means cross to the south of it. I would not take any risk of being entangled upon the river, _like an ox jumped half over a fence, and liable to be torn by dogs, front and rear, without a fair chance to gore one way or kick the other._"

Ludicrous perhaps, but to the point; the "Rail-Splitter" was not always dignified, but often judicious. Chancellorsville had been defeat--Lee's a.s.sault, foreboded thus by Lincoln, would be death.