Around the ruins the large graveyard is full of elegant
tombstones. Many are shattered to-day, however, by the Federal shell,
as the spot was near the breastworks, and in full range of their
artillery. In fact it was not a place to visit in the fall of 1864,
unless you were fond of shell and a stray bullet. I was somewhat
surprised, therefore, as I rode into the enclosure--with a hot skirmish
going on a few hundred yards off--to see a young officer and a maiden
sitting on a grass bank, beneath a larch tree, and conversing in the
most careless manner imaginable.[1]
[Footnote 1: Real.]
Who were these calmly indifferent personages? Their backs were turned,
and I could only see that the young lady had a profusion of auburn
hair. Having dismounted, and approached, I made another discovery. The
youth was holding the maiden's hand, and looking with flushed cheeks
into her eyes--while she hung her head, the ringlets rippling over her
cheeks, and played absently with some wild flowers, which she held
between her fingers.
The "situation" was plain. "Lovers," I said to myself; "let me not
disturb the young ones!"
And I turned to walk away without attracting their attention.
Unfortunately, however, a shell at that instant screamed over the ruin;
the young girl raised her head with simple curiosity--not a particle of
fear evidently--to watch the course of the missile; and, as the youth
executed the like manoeuvre, they both became aware of my presence at
the same moment.
Pages:
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457