art was rent at leaving her. She put her hands on his shoulders,
and he stooped to kiss her trembling lips.
They walked out together to the summer-house, and stood watching the
glory of the light on the western hills. "Jinn," said the Colonel, "I
reckon you will have to go to your Aunt Lillian. It--it will be hard. But
I know that my girl can take care of herself. In case--in case I do not
come back, or occasion should arise, find Lige. Let him take you to your
Uncle Daniel. He is fond of you, and will be all alone in Calvert House
when the war is over. And I reckon that is all I have to say. I won't pry
into your heart, honey. If you love Clarence, marry him. I like the boy,
and I believe he will quiet down into a good man."
Virginia did not answer, but reached out for her father's hand and held
its fingers locked tight in her own. From the kitchen the sound of Ned's
voice rose in the still evening air.
"Sposin' I was to go to N' Orleans an' take sick and die,
Laik a bird into de country ma spirit would fly."
And after a while down the path the red and yellow of Mammy Easter's
bandanna was seen.
"Supper, Miss Jinny. Laws, if I ain't ramshacked de premises fo' you bof.
De co'n bread's gittin' cold."
That evening the Colonel and Virginia thrust a few things into her little
leather bag they had chosen together in London. Virginia had found a
cigar, which she hid until they went down to the porch, and there she
gave it to him; when he lighted the match she saw that his hand shook.
Half an hour later he held her in his arms at the gate, and she heard his
firm tread die in the dust of the road. The South had claimed him at
last.
THE CRISIS
By Winston Churchill
Volume 7.
CHAPTER VII
WITH THE ARMIES OF THE WEST
We are at Memphis,--for a while,--and the Christmas season is approaching
once more. And yet we must remember that war recognizes no Christmas, nor
Sunday, nor holiday. The brown river, excited by rains, whirled seaward
between his banks of yellow clay. Now the weather was crisp and cold, now
hazy and depressing, and again a downpour. Memphis had never seen such
activity. A spirit possessed the place, a restless spirit called William
T. Sherman. He prodded Memphis and laid violent hold of her. She groaned,
protested, turned over, and woke up, peopled by a new people. When these
walked, they ran, and they wore a blue uniform. They spoke rapidly and
were impatient. Rain
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