Half an hour afterward I witnessed a singular spectacle: that of a
wedding, past midnight, in the midst of hurry, confusion, uproar,
universal despair--the scene, a city about to fall into the hands of
the enemy--from which the government and all its defenders had fled.[1]
[Footnote 1: Real.]
Katy acted her part bravely. The rosy cheeks were unblanched still--the
sweet smile was as endearing. When I took an old friend's privilege to
kiss the smiling lips, there was no tremor in them, and her blue eyes
were as brave as ever.
So Tom and Katy were married--and I bestowed upon them my paternal
blessing! It was a singular incident--was it not, reader? But war is
full of such.
I did not see Tom again until I met him on the retreat. And Katy--I
have never seen her sweet face since--but heaven bless her!
An hour afterward I had delivered my message to General Ewell, who was
already moving out with his small force to join Lee. They defiled
across the bridges, and disappeared. For myself, tired out, I wrapped
my cape around me, and stretching myself upon a sofa, at the house of a
friend, snatched a little rest.
I was aroused toward daybreak by a tremendous explosion, and going to
the window, saw that the city was in flames. The explosion had been
caused, doubtless, by blowing up the magazines, or the rams in James
River.
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