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Cooke, John Esten, 1830-1886

"Mohun, or, the Last Days of Lee"

I no longer hate _that man_, and would not harm _that
woman_ for aught on earth. Let them go--they are indifferent to me. I
appeal to God to witness the purity of my sentiments, and the sincerity
with which I have prayed, 'Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive
those who have trespassed against us!'"
I reached out my hand in the darkness, and pressed that of the speaker.
"You are right, Mohun--there is something greater, more noble, than
vengeance--it is forgiveness. More than ever, I can say now of you,
what I said after hearing your history that night."
"What was that, old friend?"
"That you were no longer the bitter misanthrope, hating your species,
and snarling at all things--no longer the gay cavalier rushing to
battle as a pastime--that you were altered, entirely changed,
rather--that your character was elevated and purified--and that now,
you were a patriotic soldier, fit to live or die with Lee!"
"Would that I were!" he murmured, letting his head fall upon his
breast.
"That is much to say of any man; but I will add more. You are worthy of
her--the blossom of Five Forks!"
As I uttered these words, we reached the gate.
A moment afterward we had entered the grounds, tethered our horses, and
were hastening to the house.


XIX.

THE CEREMONY.


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