"I like her least of all!"

"From instinct?"

"If you choose."

"I think your instinct misleads you this time, general."

"I think not."

"Well, we will see."

And we did see.

In two hours the head-quarters tents were pitched upon Fleetwood Hill beyond Brandy, and Stuart sent his provost marshal to Culpeper Court-House, with orders to conduct the prisoner taken by Mohun on the preceding night, to General Lee, for examination.

An hour afterward the worthy provost returned in hot haste with the astounding information that the fair lady was nowhere to be found. She had disappeared from her chamber, none knew how, before daylight, and as a notoriously suspected individual who had lately been hanging round the tavern had disappeared too, it was probable that they had gone off together. Upon this point, a note left by the lady directed to "General Stuart" would probably give information. This had been found upon her table. And the provost wound up by handing the note to Stuart.

He read it with an air of decided ill-humor. Then throwing it upon his desk, burst into a laugh.

"Well, Surry," he said, "who is right and who is wrong, now? Read that!"

And he pointed to the note, which I opened and read. It was in a delicate female hand, and ran as follows:--

"General Stuart will pardon the attempt his captive is about to make, to effect her escape. He made himself quite charming in their brief interview, but liberty is sweet. Finding a friend unexpectedly in this quarter of the world, I have made every arrangement with him; he is a great master of disguises, and, though the travelling costume which I shall adopt will make me look hideous, I hope it will enable me, before sunrise, to pa.s.s a private ford, known to my friend alone, and reach the opposite bank of the Rappahannock.

"Farewell, my dear general. If all the rebels were like yourself, I might change my politics. I have but one other friend in your army--Colonel Mohun, of the cavalry. Present my regards to him, and say that _we will meet again_."

That was all. I raised my eyes from the paper, and looked at the general with stupefaction.

"Then that 'old woman' was the lady?"

"Precisely."

"And we are fooled?"

"Completely. They are by this time on the other side of the Rappahannock."

With these words, Stuart dismissed the whole subject, turned to his desk, and in a moment was busy at his official writing.

VII.

THE BALL BEFORE THE BATTLE.

On the same evening I was riding with Stuart toward Culpeper Court-House.

"Do you know where we are going, Surry?" he said, with a laugh.

"I can guess, I think."

"Try."

"To the ball given by the young officers to the Charlottesville belles tonight."

"You are wrong, old fellow. I don't dare to go there."

"Don't dare?"

"Well, that is the word," he replied; "I am not afraid of the Yankees, but I am of gossips--above all, of the valorous correspondents of the newspapers."

"I begin to understand now."

"They are dangerous."

"Yes."

Stuart cantered on, playing with his glove as usual. "Think of Messieurs the bomb-proof critics!" he laughed. "They already say I reviewed the cavalry with a wreath of flowers around my horse's neck."

"Is it possible?"

"They say so everywhere; and I will tell you the foundation for the charge. In pa.s.sing through the Court-House on the morning of the review, a young lady friend of mine ran out from her house and threw a wreath over the neck of my horse. Well, I think it is something to be courteous in this world. I did not throw it off. I thanked her, rode on, and only removed it when I got out of sight. Meeting General Lee, I told him of it, laughing, and he said, with a smile: 'Why did you not wear it?'[1] I might as well have done so, Surry, for you see I have the credit of it. Why try to be temperate, and pure, and soldierly? I am a drunkard, a libertine, and a popinjay! But I care nothing. I intend to do my duty, old fellow, and the next few days will probably show if I can fight."

[Footnote 1: Fact.]

With which words Stuart broke into a song, cantered on more rapidly, and pa.s.sing without drawing rein through the Court-House, soon reached General Lee's head-quarters on an eminence beyond.

Here he remained for an hour, in private interview with the commander-in-chief. Finally, they came out together. General Lee in his plain uniform, with that sedate dignity of bearing which made the gray old cavalier so superb. I had the honor to receive his salute, and to press his hand, and then I set out with General Stuart for Fleetwood.

In pa.s.sing through the Court-House we observed the windows of a large building all ablaze with lights, and heard the merry notes of music.

Stuart drew rein.

"I think I will drop in for a few minutes, in spite of every thing!" he said. "See the end of all my excellent resolutions, Surry!"

And rapidly dismounting, Stuart entered the ball-room. I followed.

If the review was imposing, the ball was charming. Youths and maidens had a.s.sembled promptly at the sound of music, and, if I were a poet or a penny-a-liner, my dear reader, I would compose a fine description of the merry spectacle. But alas! I am neither; and feel unequal to the "ornate" style of writing. I am only a battered old _militaire_, with a number of great events to speak of. Look in the newspapers of that period for an account of the a.s.sembly.

Let me say, however, in pa.s.sing, that there was something sad as well as joyful, gloomy as well as brilliant, in all that echoing laughter, and the movements of these gay figures, on the eve of the b.l.o.o.d.y battle of Fleetwood. Girls were smiling upon youths who in twelve hours would be dead. Lips were shaping gallant compliments--soon they were going to utter the death-groan. All went merry as a marriage-bell, and they danced to the joyous music. Soon the cannon would begin to roll, and the youths would charge to that stormy music as they danced to this.

I was gazing at the lively a.s.semblage--at the undulating forms moving to and fro, the gay uniforms, the fluttering scarfs, the snowy arms, the rosy cheeks, when my attention was attracted by a figure which made me lose sight of all else.

It was that of a young girl about twenty, tall, stately, and beautiful.

Her dark hair was carried back in glossy waves, and ended in profuse curls. Her cheeks resembled blush roses; the eyes were large, brilliant, and full of laughing hauteur; the lips red, and wreathed into a dazzling smile, which was the perfection of satirical mirth.

I grow extravagant; but this young girl was superb. There was something queen like and imposing in her movements and whole appearance. She seemed to look down on the crowd with satirical disdain, and the gay youths who surrounded her were every instant struck by the bright shafts of a wit which spared nothing.