ents were marked with expressions of his abiding faith in
the wisdom and love of the God he had faithfully served.

Yet his spirit was still on the field of battle. In the delirium which
preceded death his voice rang in sharp command:

"Tell Major Hawkes to send forward provisions to the men!"

His head sank and a smile lighted his rugged face. In low tender tones
be gasped his last words on earth:

"Let us cross over the river and rest under the shade of the trees."

So passed the greatest military genius our race has produced--the man
who never met defeat. His loss was mourned not only by the South but by
the world. His death extinguished a light on the shores of Time.

The leading London paper said of him:

"That mixture of daring and judgment which is the mark of heaven-born
generals distinguished him beyond any man of his age. The blows he
struck at the enemy were as terrible and decisive as those of Bonaparte
himself."

Thousands followed him in sorrow to the grave. The South was bathed in
tears.

Lee realized that he had lost his right arm and yet, undaunted, he
marshaled his legions and girded his loins for an invasion of Northern
soil.

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE ACCUSATION

Captain Welford had entered the Secret Service of the Confederacy
believing firmly that Socola was a Federal spy. He would not make known
his suspicions until he had secured evidence on which to demand his
arrest.

This evidence he found most difficult to secure. For months he had
watched the handsome foreigner with the patience of a hound. He had
taken particular pains to hold Jennie's friendship in order to be thrown
with Socola on every possible occasion. His men from the Secret Service
Department had followed Socola's every movement day and night with no
results.

He pretended the most philosophic acceptance of the situation and
bantered the lovers with expressions of his surprise that an early
marriage had not been announced.

Socola received the Captain's professions of friendship with no sign of
suspicion. He read Dick's mind as an open book. He saw through his
pretentions and the tragic purpose which underlay his good-natured
banter. He knew instinctively that his movements were watched and moved
with the utmost caution. For a time he found it impossible to visit the
house on Church Hill. Detectives were on his heels the moment he turned
his steps to that hill.

The boarding house in which he lived was watched