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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"Love under Fire"

There
was neither opportunity nor time for more, although I felt my own deep
disappointment was mirrored in the girl's face. The continuous roar of
guns without, already making conversation difficult, and the hurried
tramp of feet in the hall below, told the danger of delay. It was a
moment when the soldier had to conquer the lover, and stern duty became
supreme. I hurried to the front window, and gazed out; then to others,
thus making a thorough survey of our surroundings, quickly making up my
mind to a definite plan of action. So swiftly had occurrences pressed
upon me I had scarcely found time before to realize the rapid approach
of this new danger. Now it burst upon me in all its impending horror.
Already the results of battle were visible.
An hour before the pike road leading past the plantation gates had been
white and deserted, not even a spiral of dust breaking its loneliness.
Through openings in a grove I had looked northward as far as the log
church and observed no moving figure. But now this was all changed; as
though by some mysterious alchemy, war had succeeded peace, the very
landscape appearing grimly desolate, yet alive with moving figures. And
these told the story, the story of defeat. It was not a new scene to me,
but nevertheless pitiful.


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