Part 68 (1/2)

The darkest day of its history was dawning on Arlington. Lee had spent a sleepless night watching the flickering lights of the Capitol, waiting, hoping, praying for a message from the Convention at Richmond. On that message hung the present, the future, and the sacred glory of the past.

The lamp on the table in the hall was still burning dimly at dawn when Mary Lee came downstairs and pulled the old-fas.h.i.+oned bell cord which summoned the butler.

Ben entered with a bow.

”You ring for me, Missy?”

”Yes. You sent to town to see if an Extra had been issued?”

”Ya.s.sam. De boy come back more'n a hour ago.”

”There was none?”

”Nomum.”

”And he couldn't find Lieutenant Stuart?”

”Nomum. He look fur him in de telegraph office an' everywhar.”

”Why don't he come--why don't he come?” she sighed.

”I spec dem wires is done down, an' de news 'bout Secesum come froo de country fum Richmon' by horseback, M'am.”

The girl sighed again wearily.

”The coffee and sandwiches ready, Ben?”

”Ya.s.sam. All on de table waitin'. De coffee gittin' cold.”

”I'll bring Papa down, if I can get him to come.”

”Ya.s.sam. I hopes ye bring him. He sho must be wore out.”

”It's daylight,” she said, ”open the windows and put out the lamp.”

Mary climbed the stairs again to get her father to eat. Ben drew the curtains and the full light of a beautiful spring morning flooded the room. A mocking bird was singing in the holly. A catbird cried from a rosebush, a redbird flashed and chirped from the hedge and a colt whinnied for his mother.

The old negro lowered the lamp, blew it out and began to straighten the room. A soft knock sounded on the front door.

He stopped and listened. That was queer. No guest could be coming to Arlington at dawn. Lieutenant Stuart would come on horseback and the ring of his horse's hoofs could be heard for half a mile.

He turned back to his work and the knock was repeated, this time louder.

He cautiously approached the door.

”Who's dar?”

”Hit's me.”