Yet
now I am sitting here a pardoned rebel, and the poor Lees are
driven away and their place is a grave-yard."
Sybil became at once absorbed in the Lees and asked many
questions, all which Carrington gladly answered. He told her how
he had admired and followed General Lee through the war. "We
thought he was to be our Washington, you know; and perhaps he
had some such idea himself;" and then, when Sybil wanted to hear
about the baffles and the fighting, he drew a rough map on the
gravel path to show her how the two lines had run, only a few
miles away; then he told her how he had carried his musket day
after day over all this country, and where he had seen his battles.
Sybil had everything to learn; the story came to her with all the
animation of real life, for here under her eyes were the graves of
her own champions, and by her side was a rebel who had stood
under our fire at Malvern Hill and at South Mountain, and who
was telling her how men looked and what they thought in face of
death. She listened with breathless interest, and at last summoned
courage to ask in an awestruck tone whether Carrington had ever
killed any one himself. She was relieved, although a little
disappointed, when he said that he believed not; he hoped not;
though no private who has discharged a musket in baffle can be
quite sure where the bullet went. "I never tried to kill any one,"
said he, "though they tried to kill me incessantly." Then Sybil
begged to know how they had tried to kill him, and he told her one
or two of those experiences, such as most soldiers have had, when
he had been fired upon and the balls had torn his clothes or drawn
blood.
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