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Updated: May 21, 2025
I don't know half enough; I know only what Miss Camilla and and Gholson could tell me," was my tricky reply, and I tried to look straight into her eyes, but they took that faint introspective contraction of which I have spoken, and gazed through me like sunlight through glass. Then again she bent her glance upon her steps, saying
Gholson, when does the command move?" "At twelve," he replied, and I bent and softly added "That's why " "Yes," she said, with a quick, understanding look, and wiped her lips as daintily as if it were with wine they were crimsoned. On my way back through camp with Gholson I saw old Dismukes. He called me to him, quit his cards, and led me into his tent.
He gave it and we turned into a lofty grove whitened with our headquarters tents. "Smith," said the Major, "your part is done, and well done. You needn't report to me again to-night; the General wishes to see you a moment. Captain, will you go with this young man to General Austin's tent?" I went to Gholson.
Now, Smith, you've given me the gist of the matter, haven't you? Oh, I think you have; good-morning." Gholson had helped me get the despatch off to Miss Harper, whose coming no one could be more eager to hasten. Before leaving camp I saw him again. He was strangely reticent; my news seemed to benumb and sicken him.
You fixed the date of your death last June, and we're not going to let it be changed; that's when you died. Ain't it, Gholson? Whoever says it ain't fixes the date of his own funeral, eh, boys? I take pleasure in telling you we're not going to hang your father, because I believe in my bones you'd rather we'd hang him than not. Mr.
"Well, Squire, I'm from General Austin's headquarters, with orders to Captain Ferry." "Captain Ferry ain't stopping with us now, sir, he's 'way up at Hazlehurst." "Yes, sir. I didn't know but he might 'a' come down to spend to-morrow with you, it being the Sabbath. My name's Gholson, sir; I've got letters for the Miss Harpers; yes, sir; and one for Private Smith, from his mother, in New Orleans."
I find myself giving but a faint impression of the spirit in which Gholson spoke; it went away beyond a mere backbiting mood and became a temper so vindictive and so venomously purposeful that I was startled; his condition seemed so fearfully like that of the old paralytic when he whined "That's not our way." "Smith," my companion went on, "we ought to protect Ned Ferry from himself!"
I never apologized to a man in my life, Smith, nor I never accepted an apology from one; that's not my way." Near the bottom of the second flight we met Charlotte, who, to make bad worse, would have passed with no more than a smile, but the look of Gholson startled her and she noticed our arms.
It seemed to me there was a hot fight on at the front, and that I, in a sweat of terror, was at the rear, hiding among the wagons and telling Gholson pale-faced lies as to why I was there. All at once Gholson became Oliver, alive, bloody-handed, glaring on me spectrally, cursing, threatening, and demanding his wife.
"Is she coming?" he called up, and Charlotte, at my side, spoke downward: "I shall be with you in a moment." While he waited the second lieutenant of the Louisianians came, and as guard and prisoners started away she came out upon the veranda steps. Across her knee, as she and Gholson galloped off by a road across fields, lay in a wrapping of corn-husks the huge sabre of the dead northerner.
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