dow, held by the same spell.

"Surely it is a good omen!" murmured Harley; "the field of
Chancellorsville, where we struck Hooker down, is in this same
Wilderness."

"But we lost there our right arm--Jackson," said Mrs. Markham.

"True, alas!" said Harley.

The aspect of the day that had begun so bright and clear was changing.
The great pall of smoke in the east gave its character to all the sky.
From the west clouds were rolling up to meet it. The air was growing
close, sultry and hot. The wind ceased to blow. The grass and the new
leaves hung motionless. All around them the forest was still heavy and
somber. The coloured woman in the corner began to cry softly, but from
her chest. They could hear her low note under the roar of the guns, but
no one rebuked her.

"It comes nearer and nearer," murmured Harley.

There was relief, even pleasure in his tone. He had forgotten his sister
and the woman to whom his eyes so often turned. That which concerned him
most in life was passing behind the veil of trees and bushes, and its
sound filled his ears. He had no thought of anything else. It was
widening its sweep, coming nearer to the house where he was tied so
wretchedly by wounds; and he would see it--see who was winning--his own
South he fiercely hoped.

The thoughts of brother and sister at that moment were alike. All the
spirit and fire of the old South flushed in every vein of both. They
were of an old aristocracy, with but two ambitions, the military and the
political, and while they prayed for complete success in the end, they
wanted another great triumph on the field of battle. Gettysburg, that
insuperable bar, was behind them, casting its gloomy memory over the
year between; but this might take its place, atoning for it, wiping it
out. But there was doubt and fear in the heart of each; this was a new
general that the North had, of a different kind from the old--one who
did not turn back at a defeat, but came on again and hammered and
hammered. They repeated to themselves softly the name "Grant." It had to
them a short, harsh, abrupt sound, and it did not grow pleasant with
repetition.

An odour, the mingled reek of smoke, burnt gunpowder, trampled dust and
sweating men, reached them and was offensive to their nostrils. Helen
coughed and then wiped her face with her handkerchief. She was surprised
to find her cheeks damp and cold. Her lips felt harsh and dry as they
touched each other.

The trembling of the