int?"

"A thing that happened ten days ago. The burial of Latane. The women
buried him, you know. At Summer Hill.--Mrs. Brockenborough, and her
daughter-in-law and grandchildren. Somebody read me a letter about
it--so simple it wrung your heart! 'By God,' I said, 'what Roman things
happen still!' And I thought I'd like to paint the picture."

"I read the letter, too," said the poet. "I am making some verses about
it--see if you like them--

"For woman's voice, in accents soft and low,
Trembling with pity, touched with pathos, read
O'er his hallowed dust the ritual for the dead:

"'Tis sown in weakness, it is raised in power'--
Softly the promise floated on the air,
While the low breathings of the sunset hour
Came back responsive to the mourner's prayer.
Gently they laid him underneath the sod
And left him with his fame, his country and his God!"

"Yes," said Judith, sweetly and gravely. "How can we but like them? And
I hope that you will find the tent-cloth, Mr. Washington."

Reentering, presently, the large room, they found a vague stir, people
beginning to say good-night, and yet lingering. "It is growing late,"
said some one, "and yet I think that he will come." Her father came up
to her and drew her hand through his arm. "Here is General Lee now. We
will wait a moment longer, then go."

They stood in the shadow of the curtains watching the Commander-in-Chief
just pausing to greet such and such an one in his progress toward the
President. An aide or two came behind; the grand head and form moved on,
simple and kingly. Judith drew quicker breath. "Oh, he looks so great a
man!"

"He looks what he is," said Warwick Cary. "Now let us go, too, and say
good-night."

CHAPTER XXXI

THE FIRST OF THE SEVEN DAYS

Miriam and Christianna sat at the window, watching. The day was
parching, the sky hot blue steel, the wind that blew the dust through
the streets like a breath from the sun himself. People went by, all
kinds of people, lacking only soldiers. There seemed no soldiers in
town. Miriam, alternately listless and feverishly animated, explained
matters to the mountain girl. "When there's to be a battle, every one
goes to the colours.--Look at that old, old, old man, hobbling on his
stick. You'd think that death was right beside him, wouldn't you?--ready
to tap him on the shoulder and say, '