A little mother with a laughing boy two years old and baby in her armswas awaiting at a crowded hotel in Washington the coming of her fatherfrom the Western plains. Her men were going in opposite directions inthese tragic days that were trying the souls of men. Colonel PhillipSt. George Cooke was a Virginian. Lieutenant J. E. B. Stuart was aVirginian. The soul of the little mother was worn out with the questionthat had no answer. Why should her lover-husband and her fine old daddyfight each other?
She stood appalled before such a conflict. She had written to her fathera letter so gentle, so full of tender appeal, he could not resist itscall. She had asked that he come to see her babies and her husband and,face to face, say the things that were in his heart.
Her own sympathies were with her husband. He had breathed his soul intohers. She thought as he thought and felt as he felt. But her dear olddaddy must have deep reasons for refusing to follow Virginia, if sheshould go with the South in Secession. She must hear these reasons.
Stuart must hear them. If he could convince them, they would go withhim.
In her girl\'s soul she didn\'t care which way they went, as long as theydid not fight each other. She had watched the shadow of this war deepenwith growing anguish. If her father should meet her husband in battleand one should kill the other! How could she live? The thought was toohorrible to frame in, words, but it haunted her dreams. She couldn\'tshake it off.
That her rollicking soldier man would come out alive she felt suresomehow. No other thought was possible. To think that he might be killedin the pride and glory of his youth was nonsense. Her mind refused nowto dwell on the idea. She dismissed it with a laugh. He was so vital.
He lived to his finger tips. His voice rang with the joy of living.
The spirit of eternal youth danced in his blue eyes. He was justtwenty-eight years old. He was the father of a darling boy who bore hisname and a baby that nestled in her arms to whom they had given hers.
Life in its morning of glory was his--wife, babies, love, youth, health,strength, clean living and high thinking. No, it was the thought of harmto her father that was eating her heart out. He has passed the noon-tideof life. His slender, graceful form lacked the sturdy power of youth.
His chances were not so good.
The thing that sickened her was the certainty that both these men,father and husband, would organize the cavalry service and fight onhorseback. They had spent their honeymoon on the plains. She had riddenover them with her joyous lover.
He would be a cavalry commander. She knew that he would be a general.
Her father was a master of cavalry tactics and was at work on the Manuelfor the United States Army.
The two men were born under the same skies. Their tastes were similar.
Their clean habits of life were alike. Their ideals were equally highand noble. How could two such men fight each other to the death over anissue of politics when some wife or sister or mother must look on a deadface whe............