he army
was surely coming! As the three rose from the church step, there passed
a knot of mounted soldiers. It chanced to be the President's staff, with
several of Stuart's captains, and the plumage of these was yet bright.
The Confederate uniform was a handsome one; these who wore it were young
and handsome men. From spur to hat and plume they exercised a charm.
Somewhere, in the distance, a band was playing, and their noble, mettled
horses pranced to the music. As they passed they raised their hats. One,
who recognized Judith, swept his aside with a gesture appropriate to a
minuet. With sword and spur, with horses stepping to music, by they
went. Christianna looked after them with dazzled eyes. She drew a
fluttering breath. "I didn't know things like that were in the world!"

A little later the three reached the gate of the house which sheltered
Margaret and Miriam. "I won't go in," said Judith. "It is growing
late.... Margaret, I am going to the President's to-night. Father wishes
me to go with him. He says that we are on the eve of a great battle, and
that it is right--" Margaret smiled upon her. "It _is_ right. Of course
you must go, dear and darling child! Do not think that I shall ever
misunderstand you, Judith!"

The other kissed her, clinging for a moment to her. "Oh, mother,
mother!... I hear the cannon, too, louder and louder!" She broke away.
"I must _not_ cry to-night. To-night we must all have large bright
eyes--like the women in Brussels when 'There was revelry by
night'--Isn't it fortunate that the heart doesn't show?"

The town was all soft dusk when she came to the kinsman's house which
had opened to her. Crowded though it was with refugee kindred, with
soldier sons coming and going, it had managed to give her a small quiet
niche, a little room, white-walled, white-curtained, in the very arms
of a great old tulip tree. The window opened to the east, and the view
was obstructed only by the boughs of the tree. Beyond them, through
leafy openings, night by night she watched a red glare on the eastern
horizon--McClellan's five-mile-distant camp-fires. Entering presently
this room, she lit two candles, placed them on the dressing table, and
proceeded to make her toilette for the President's House.

Through the window came the sound of the restless city. It was like the
beating of a distant sea, with a ground swell presaging storm. The wind,
blowing from the south, brought, too, the voice of the river, pa