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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"My Lady of the North"

Sergeant, we will go into camp here. Post pickets in both
directions, but put your most careful men on that hill yonder. Let them
report promptly any signs of fire to the southeast, or any sound of
guns."
We completed all our cooking before dark, and when the night finally
closed down about us it proved to be an exceedingly black one, although
the skies were clear. Sleep was an impossibility for me, as my mind was
in constant turmoil. I felt hampered, prisoned, shut in, unable to do
what I most desired. I wondered where she was--probably riding
northward beside her husband, and I bit my lip savagely at thought of
it; possibly she was even then laughing merrily in memory of my
unfortunate predicament in the garden. So she cared nothing for me,
exhibited her indifference clearly in presence of others, disliked even
to hear my name mentioned. Very well, I would take exceeding good care
never again to intrude myself upon her. Then my thoughts swerved to the
big house out yonder in the darkness. If signs of attack came to us,
what should I do? The question truly puzzled me, for I was unwilling to
expose the lives of my men merely to save property--Confederate
soldiers were far too valuable at that stage of the war. If I only knew
positively that the women were safely away, I would tarry no longer in
the neighborhood. But I did not know; I merely hoped.


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