unnatural; certainly Richmond did not find it so,
that a lover and his beloved should thus encounter in the street, a
moment between battles. Her dark eyes and his grey ones met. To find him
there seemed as natural as it had been in her dream; the street was no
more to her than the lonely beach. They crossed it, went up toward the
Capitol Square, and, entering, found a green dip of earth with a bench
beneath a linden tree. Behind them rose the terraced slope to the
pillared Capitol; as always, in this square children's voices were heard
with their answering nurses, and the squirrels ran along the grass or
upon the boughs above. But the voices were somewhat distant and the
squirrels did not disturb; it was a leafy, quiet nook. The few men or
women who passed, pale, distrait, hurrying from one quarter of the city
to another, heeded as little as they were heeded. Lovers'
meetings--lovers' partings--soldiers--women who loved them--faces pale
and grave, yet raised, hands in hands, low voices in leafy places--man
and woman together in the golden light, in the breathing space before
the cannon should begin again--Richmond was growing used to that. All
life was now in public. For the most part a clear altruism swayed the
place and time, and in the glow smallness of comment or of thought was
drowned. Certainly, it mattered not to Cleave and Judith that it was the
Capitol Square, and that people went up and down.

"I have but the shortest while," he said. "I came this morning with
Allen's body--the colonel of the 2d. I ride back directly. I hope that
we will move to-night."

"Following McClellan?"

"To get across his path, if possible."

"There will be another battle?"

"Yes. More than one, perhaps."

"I have believed that you were safe. I do not see that I could have
lived else."

"Many have fallen; many are hurt. I found Allan Gold in the hospital. He
will not die, however.... Judith, how often do I see your face beside
the flag!"

"When I was asleep I dreamed of you. We were drifting together, far out
at sea--your arm here--" She lifted his hand, drew his arm about her,
rested her head on his breast. "I love you--I love you--I love you."

They stayed in the leafy place and the red-gold light for half an hour,
speaking little, sitting sometimes with closed eyes, but hand in hand.
It was much as though they were drifting together at sea, understanding
perfectly, but weary from battling, and with great issues towering