g any alarming
noise, and applied one eye to the aperture. There was little to be
seen--merely the end of a bench, and a pair of bare, black feet. The
judge's sole remaining servitor doubtless, doing a turn at guard duty.
As I gazed, some outside noise aroused him, and he went softly
pattering down the hall.

The same sound startled me also, and I dropped the flap, clambering upon
the chair so as to see without. It was a hundred feet to the main road,
mostly velvety turf between, with a few trees partially obscuring the
view. Yet I could see clearly enough, and up the pike leading through
the village, half hidden by a cloud of dust, was advancing a regiment of
cavalry, their flags draped, their horses walking in double column. As
these swung into the straight road, a battery of artillery followed,
gray-jacketed fellows, Confederates--Beauregard's advance.

CHAPTER IX

IMPORTANT NEWS

In spite of the recognized fact that these men were enemies, my heart
throbbed, almost in pride, as I watched them pass. They were Americans,
and magnificent fighting men. I had seen them, or their fellows, in the
ruck and toil of battle, playing with death, smiling in the face of
defeat. Now they were marching grimly forward to another clash of arms,
through the blinding dust, heedless of all else but duty. This was what
stirred me. No proud review, with glittering uniforms and waving flags,
would have choked my throat, or dimmed my eyes, as did the sight of that
plodding, silent column, half hidden under the dust cloud, uniforms
almost indistinguishable, officers and men mingled, the drums still, the
only sounds the steady tread, the occasional hoarse shout of command.
Here was no pomp and circumstance, but grim purpose personified in
self-sacrifice and endurance. With heads bowed, and limbs moving
wearily, guns held at will, they swept by in unbroken column--cavalry,
artillery, infantry--scarcely a face lifted to glance toward the house,
with here and there a straggler limping to the roadside, or an aide
spurring past--just a stream of armed men, who had been plodding on
since daylight, footsore, hungry, unseeing, yet ready to die in battle
at their commander's word. It was war; it was magnificent.

Yet suddenly there recurred to me my own small part in this great
tragedy. Here was opportunity. Down below, on the front steps, stood the
old judge, and beside him Miss Hardy, forgetful for the time of all else
save those passing t