r enough for call, not near enough for intrusion.
Looking at the lines of dark forms topped by the light glimmer of stray
bayonets, I saw with dismay that our men were retreating before those
heavy charges; in thick, dense masses they moved back, nearing us. I
thought of our soldier chief, crushed under those wild hoofs; I thought
of Grace, unprotected in her youth and widowed, desolate beauty, and
sprang to her side, ready with my life for her.

The major saw it all, and, faint as he was, rose on his elbow, watching.
Charge after charge, wild and impetuous, break the slowly retreating
battalions. In vain I heard Carter's stern oaths (may the angel of tears
forgive him!), and Charlie Marsh's boyish calls. The men are facing us.
The enemy, cheering, and in the background huge torches flaming with
pitch, are ready for incendiarism.

'Grace! Grace! I _must_ rally them, let me go!' and I see Major Fanning
straggling in her arms. I clasp him also.

'It is certain death,' I say to her, mad with fright and misery.

'And this is worse, worse, Grace; you might better kill me!' his voice
was harsh--cruel even.

Suddenly she was gone, and I held him alone; catching his sword, she
sprang like a flash of lightning into the open space before the log
house, and, lifting the bare blade with naked, slender arm, its loose
sleeve floating from her shoulder like a wing, she faced those
panic-stricken men.

'For shame!' she cried; but her weak voice was lost; then, stern as the
angel of death, she stepped forward.

'The first man that passes me shall die!' and she swung the flashing
blade up, ready to fall. A moment's halt, and then, she spoke to them
with wonderful strange words. I cannot recall them; with inspired
eloquence she spoke, a slight, white-robed figure in the clear
moonlight, and the rout was stayed, and they turned bravely to meet the
foe. Then she came faint and weak to her husband's side again. He looked
up with glad, eager eyes.

'Darling!'

Infinite love, soul-recognition, shone on both faces, and then blank
unconsciousness crept over his. Firmly our boys met the charging steeds
now. That moment had restored to them their courage. Emptied saddles
were frequent, but still fresh forces dashed from the wood. Is there no
hope for us? Must we be overpowered? Is all this valor vain? Grace from
her husband's side looks mutely up to heaven. I find my place among the
men. Little hope remains. Some one calls 'retreat.' 'J