To Vassar sleep had been impossible for the past two nights. He dozed
for an hour during the day from sheer exhaustion, but the nearer the
hour came for the test of strength between the opposing armies on which
hung the fate of a hundred million people, the deeper became his
excitement.
All life seemed to mirror itself in a vast luminous crystal before his
eyes--the past, the present, the future.
He nodded in the saddle as he watched the construction of the second
line of entrenchments five miles in the rear of the first. He wondered
at the long reach of that first possible retreat. It was an ominous
sign. It revealed the fear in the heart of the American commander.
He fell into a fevered dream. Far up in the sky he saw the sneering face
of the Devil bending low over our shores and from his right hand shaking
dice. The dice were the skulls of men. They rattled over the wide plain
of our coming battlefield. The hideous face twisted with demoniac
laughter as he shook the skulls and threw again.
He watched the game with bated breath. The count was made at last and we
had lost!
And yet somehow it was well with the dreamer’s soul. An angel took him
by the hand and led him from the field on which the skulls lay.
He looked at the angel and it was the face of his beloved. With a cry of
joy he woke to find a courier by his side with a message from General
Hood.
He rubbed his eyes and smiled for the joy of the dream that still
lingered in his heart and quickly read the order.
TO COLONEL VASSAR:
Please report immediately to the officer in command at Babylon and
tell him to entrench his men at once. We shall make our third and
last stand there.
(Signed) HOOD.
Vassar scribbled a reply and turned his horse’s head to the staff
headquarters.
Babylon was home! He would see his little girls on the eve of
battle--but more than all he hoped to see Virginia.
He was still hoping and fearing as he delivered his horse to the hostler
and ordered an automobile.
He was just leaping into the machine when Billy appeared on his
motor-cycle and handed him a crumpled sealed note.
The boy saluted, smiled and turned back.
It was too good to be true--and yet there it was in his hand--a letter
from Virginia!
He waved to the chauffeur:
“To Babylon--headquarters--third reserves--”
The machine swept down the white smooth turnpike and he settled into his
seat still holding the precious message unopened.
He broke the seal at last and read through dimmed eyes:
“Come to me at the earliest possible moment. I have much to tell you. I
can’t write--”
There was no formal address. There was no name signed. He kissed the
delicately lined words and placed the note in his inside pocket.
What did the foolish happiness in his soul mean? Could fate mock him
with an hour’s joy and send him to his death tomorrow? He would ride
where men were falling like leaves before the sun should set--there
could be no doubt of that. He shut his eyes and could see only the face
of the woman he loved. He wondered what she would say? He wondered if
she would make him ask her forgiveness for the wrong she herself had
done, woman-like?
He would be afraid to kiss her again--Nonsense! She couldn’t refuse her
lips if she loved. He’d risk it again if he died for it.
He delivered his orders and turned without delay for the Holland
homestead. The flowers were in glorious bloom again.
The sun was sinking behind the trees in scarlet and purple glory. His
father strolled thoughtfully across the lawn with one arm around Zonia
and Marya’s hand clasped in his.
As the car turned into the drive and swept toward the house, the girls
saw him and rushed with cries of joy to smother him with kisses.
“Our men are ready?” his father asked gravely.
“To die--yes--they are as ready as they can be without drill or
quipment--or artillery to defend them.”
The old man shook his head.
“And the enemy--they are many?”
“A hundred and sixty thousand hardened veterans and the most magnificent
equipment of the modern world--”
Old Andrew Vassar lifted his hands in a gesture of pain.
“God help us!”
“Only He can now. We’ve done our best--that’s all--”
[Illustration: “‘It’s all love’s victory, dearest’”]
He paused and turned to Zonia whispering softly:
“Where is she?”
The girl nodded toward the rose-embowered oak.
“Waiting for you. Billy telephoned us. She’s been there ever since.”
Vassar hurried across the lawn. The twilight was deepening and the new
moon hung a half crescent in the evening sky.
She rose as he passed the trellis and stood smiling tenderly until he
came close. Her hands were clasped tightly. Neither was extended to
greet him.
She lifted her eyes to his in a long, tender gaze, deliberately slipped
both arms around his neck and kissed his lips.
He held her close in a moment of strangling joy. She lifted her lips to
his again, and spoke in tones so low that only the heart of love could
hear:
“My darling--my own--my hero--my mate! I’ve loved you always from the
first. I was too proud to surrender my will and mind, my body and soul
to any man. I went away into the mountains to fight it out and love
conquered, dear! I surrendered before I knew that your prophetic soul
was right in sensing this black hour in life. I’m glad I gave up before
I knew. It’s all love’s victory, dearest. I love you. I love you--I
love you--and now Death is going to throw his shadow between us--”
A sob caught her voice.
“But I shall love you through all eternity and I thank God for this holy
hour in which we meet and know, face to face--”
For two glorious hours they sat and held each other’s hands in the soft
light of the half-fledged moon.
And then he rose, kissed her again and swiftly rode into the night
toward the red dawn of Death.