ugh the streets, showered with flowers, greeted with proud huzzahs.
And then he thought of the home-coming of the ragged Confederates, and the
tears ran down his cheeks. But as he looked upon the thousands and
thousands as they marched along, and remembered the depleted ranks of the
Southern army, his only wonder was that the South had held out so long as
it did. Defeated they were, but their deeds are carved deep in the temple
of fame, never to be erased.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE LONE RAIDER.

It was near the close of a beautiful day in early June that Joyce Crawford
was once more standing by the gate, looking down the road. It is nearly
two years since we saw her last. She has grown taller, more womanly, even
more beautiful, if that were possible. The sound of war had ceased in the
land. No longer was the fierce raider abroad; yet Joyce Crawford stood
looking down that road as intently as she did that eventful evening when
Calhoun Pennington came riding to the door.

She had not heard a word from him since his escape; nor had she expected
to hear. All that she could do was to scan the papers for his name among
the killed or captured Confederates. But the Northern papers published few
names of Confederates known to have been killed, except the highest and
most distinguished officers.

During these two years Joyce's heart had been true to her raider lover. He
had said that he would come when the war was over, that the thunder of the
last cannon would hardly have ceased to reverberate through the land
before he would be by her side. It was two months since Lee had
surrendered yet he had not come. That he had been untrue she would not
admit; if such a thought came to her, she dismissed it as unworthy. No!
Like his general, he was lying in a soldier's grave; or he might be sick,
wounded, unable to come.

This June evening, as she stood looking down the road, her thoughts were
in the past. Once more, in imagination, Morgan's raiders came riding by;
she beheld the country terror-stricken; men, women, and children fleeing
from--they hardly knew what. Once more she heard the sound of distant
battle, then down the road that little cloud of dust which grew larger and
larger, until the horse with its stricken rider came to view. How vividly
she remembered it all, how real it seemed to her! She actually held her
breath and listened to catch the sound of battle;