Chapter VIII. In the Wilderness

Stuart's brilliant figure was seen no more in the ballroom that night, but he disappeared so quietly that his absence created no alarm at first. There was a low call for Sherburne, and the great cavalry leader and his most daring horsemen were soon up and away. Harry and Dalton, standing under the boughs of an oak, near the edge of the grounds, saw them depart, but the dancers, at least the women and girls, knew nothing.

Another cannon shot came from some distant point along the stream, and its somber echoes rolled and died away among the hills, but the music of the band in the ballroom did not cease. It was the Acadians who were playing now, some strange old dance tune that they had brought from far Louisiana, taken thence by the way of Nova Scotia from its origin in old France.

"They don't know yet," said Harry, "but I'm thinking it will be the last dance for many a day."

"Looks like it," said Dalton. "What time is it, Harry?"

"Past two in the morning, and here comes Colonel Talbot and Lieutenant- Colonel St. Hilaire."

The two colonels walked out on the lawn. Military cloaks were thrown over their shoulders and all signs of merry-making were gone from their faces. They stood side by side and with military glasses were sweeping the horizon toward the river. Presently they saw Harry and Dalton standing under the boughs of the oak, and beckoned to them.

"You know?" said Colonel Talbot.

"Yes, sir, we do," replied Harry. "We saw General Stuart and his staff ride away, because a messenger had come, stating that divisions of Hooker's army were about to cross the Rappahannock."

"That is true, but we wish no panic here. Go back in the house, lads, and dance. Officers are scarcer there than they were a half hour ago. But you two lads will return to General Jackson before dawn, while Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire and I will gather up our young men and return to our own place."

Harry and Dalton obeyed promptly, and took their places again in the dancing, but they soon discovered that the spirit was gone from it. The absence of Stuart, Sherburne and others almost as conspicuous was soon noted, and although those who knew gave various excuses, they were not satisfactory. Gradually the belief spread that the long vacation was over. After Fredericksburg the armies had spent four months in peace along the Rappahannock, but there was a certainty in the minds of all that the armed peace had passed.

The music ceased bye and bye, the girls and the women went away in their carriages or on horseback, the lights were put out, and the heroes of the ballroom, veterans of the battlefield, too, went quietly to their commands once more. The youths, including their new friend, Julien de Langeais, parted shortly before dawn, and their parting was characteristic.