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Cooke, John Esten, 1830-1886

"Mohun, or, the Last Days of Lee"

I thought you had deserted us, old
fellow. The sight of you is a treat!"
"And the sight of you, my dear Mohun. You look beaming."
Indeed, Mohun had never presented a better appearance, with his dark
eyes; his tanned and glowing cheeks; his raven mustached lips, which,
parting with a smile, showed white and regular teeth. He was the
picture of a gallant soldier; all his old melancholy and cynical
bitterness gone, as mist is swept away by the morning sunshine.
"You are positively dazzling, Mohun. Where are you going, and what has
happened to you? Ah!--I begin to understand!"
And pointing northward, I said:--
"Five Forks is not far from here, is it?"
Mohun colored, but, the next moment, burst into laughter.
"You are right, old friend! It is impossible to hide any thing from
you."
"And a friend of yours is there--whom you are going to see?"
"Yes, my dear Surry," was his reply, in a voice of sudden earnestness,
"you are not mistaken, and you see I am like all the rest of the world.
When we first met on the Rapidan, I was a woman-hater. I despised them
all, for I had had reason. That was my state of mind, when a very
beautiful and noble girl, whom you have seen, crossed my path. Events
threw us together--first, the wound I received at Fleetwood--she caught
me as I was falling on that day--and several times afterward I saw and
conversed with her, finding her proud, satirical, indifferent to
admiration, but as honest and true as steel.


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