been, as if over a wound. On his features, in his
attitude, was stamped the undying determination of the South. How those
thoroughbreds of the Cavaliers showed it! Pain they took lightly. The
fire of humiliation burned, but could not destroy their indomitable
spirit. They were the first of their people in the field, and the last
to leave it. Historians may say that the classes of the South caused the
war; they cannot say that they did not take upon themselves the greatest
burden of the suffering.

Twice that day was the future revealed to Stephen. Once as he stood
on the hill-crest, when he had seen a girl in crimson and white in
a window,--in her face. And now again he read it in the face of her
cousin. It was as if he had seen unrolled the years of suffering that
were to come.

In that moment of deep bitterness his reason wavered. What if the South
should win? Surely there was no such feeling in the North as these
people betrayed. That most dangerous of gifts, the seeing of two
sides of a quarrel, had been given him. He saw the Southern view. He
sympathized with the Southern people. They had befriended him in his
poverty. Why had he not been born, like Clarence Colfax, the owner of a
large plantation, the believer in the divine right of his race to rule?

Then this girl who haunted his thoughts! Would that his path had been as
straight, his duty as easy, as that of the handsome young Captain.

Presently these thoughts were distracted by the sight of a back
strangely familiar. The back belonged to a gentleman who was
energetically climbing the embankment in front of him, on the top
of which Major Sexton, a regular, army officer, sat his horse. The
gentleman was pulling a small boy after him by one hand, and held a
newspaper tightly rolled in the other. Stephen smiled to himself when it
came over him that this gentleman was none other than that Mr. William
T. Sherman he had met in the street car the day before. Somehow Stephen
was fascinated by the decision and energy of Mr. Sherman's slightest
movements. He gave Major Saxton a salute, quick and genial. Then, almost
with one motion he unrolled the newspaper, pointed to a paragraph, and
handed it to the officer. Major Saxton was still reading when a drunken
ruffian clambered up the bank behind them and attempted to pass through
the lines. The column began to move forward. Mr. Sherman slid down the
bank with his boy into the grove beside Stephen. Suddenly there was a