flush of dawn.
The dead soldier's eyes were open; they, too, stared through the
gun-wheel at the dawn. Edward closed them. "I never could take death
seriously," he said; "which is fortunate, I suppose."

Two hours later his regiment, moving down the Quaker road, came to a
halt before a small, pillared, country church. A group of officers sat
their horses near the portico. Lee was in front, quiet and grand. Out of
the cluster Warwick Cary pushed his horse across to the halted regiment.
Father and son were presently holding converse beneath a dusty roadside
cedar. "I am thankful to see you!" said Edward. "We heard of the great
charge you made. Please take better care of yourself, father!"

"The past week has been like a dream," answered the other; "one of those
dreams in which, over and over, some undertaking, vital to you and
tremendous, is about to march. Then, over and over, comes some pettiest
obstacle, and the whole vast matter is turned awry."

"Yesterday should have been ours."

"Yes. General Lee had planned as he always plans. We should have crushed
McClellan. Instead, we fought alone--and we lost four thousand men; and
though we made the enemy lose as many, he has again drawn himself out
of our grasp and is before us. I think that to-day we will have a
fearful fight."

"Jackson is over at last."

"Yes, close behind us. Whiting is leading; I saw him a moment. There's a
report that one of the Stonewall regiments crossed and was cut in pieces
late yesterday afternoon--"

"I hope it wasn't Richard's!"

"I hope not. I have a curious, boding feeling about it.--There beat your
drums! Good-bye, again--"

He leaned from his saddle and kissed his son, then backed his horse
across the road to the generals by the pillared church. The regiment
marched away, and as it passed it cheered General Lee. He lifted his
hat. "Thank you, men. Do your best to-day--do your best."

"We'll mind you, Marse Robert, we'll mind you!" cried the troops, and
went by shouting.

Somewhere down the Quaker Road the word "Malvern Hill" seemed to drop
from the skies. "Malvern Hill. Malvern Hill. They're all massed on
Malvern Hill. Three hundred and forty guns. And on the James the
gunboats. Malvern Hill. Malvern Hill. Malvern Hill."

A man in line with Edward described the place. "My last year at William
and Mary I spent Christmas at Westover. We hunted over all Malvern Hill.
It rises one hundred and fifty feet, and the top's a mile acro