how I will come out of war! I know how I went into it, but no
man knows with what inner change he will come out. Enough now, being in,
to serve with every fibre."

She shaded her eyes with her hand. With her soft brown hair, with her
slender maturity, with the thin fine bit of lace at her neck, against
the blowing curtains and in the jasmine scent she suggested something
fine and strong and sweet, of old time, of all time. "I know that you
will serve with every fibre," she said. "I know it because I also shall
serve that way." Presently she dropped her hand and looked up at him
with a face, young, soft, and bright, lit from within. "And so at last,
Richard, you are happy in the lovely ways!"

He put something in her hand. "Would you like to see it? She sent it to
me, two weeks ago. It does not do her justice."

Margaret laughed. "They never do! But I agree with you--and yet, it is
lovely! Her eyes were always wonderful, and she smiles like some old
picture. I shall love her well, Richard."

"And she you. Mother, the country lies on my heart. I see a dark'ning
sky and many graveyards, and I hear, now 'Dixie,' now a Dead March. And
yet, through it all there runs a singing stream, under a blue Heaven--"

A little later, Miriam having waked, he said a lingering, fond good-bye,
and leaving them both at the gate in the dead hour before the dawn, rode
away on Dundee, Tullius following him, down the pike, toward the
sleeping army. He passed the pickets and came to the first regiment
before dawn; to the 65th just as the red signals showed in the east. It
was a dawn like yesterday's. Far and wide lay the army, thousands of
men, motionless on the dew-drenched earth, acorns fallen from the tree
of war. He met an officer, plodding through the mist, trying to read in
the dim light a sheaf of orders which he carried. "Good-morning,
adjutant."

"Good-morning. Richard Cleave, isn't it? Hear you are going to be a
general. Hear Old Jack said so."

Cleave laughed, a vibrant sound, jest and determination both. "Of course
I am! I settled that at sixteen, one day when I was ploughing corn. How
they all look, scattered wide like that!"

"Reveille not until six. The general's going to beat the devil round the
stump. Going to have a Sunday on a Monday. Rest, clean up, divine
service. Need all three, certainly need two. Good record the last few
weeks--reason to be thankful. Well, good-bye! Always liked you, Cleave!"

Reveille sounded,