Before the Dawn: A Story of the Fall of Richmond
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Altsheler Joseph Alexander. Before the Dawn: A Story of the Fall of Richmond
CHAPTER I. A WOMAN IN BROWN
CHAPTER II. A MAN'S MOTHER
CHAPTER III. THE MOSAIC CLUB
CHAPTER IV. THE SECRETARY MOVES
CHAPTER V. AN ELUSIVE FACE
CHAPTER VI. THE PURSUIT OF A WOMAN
CHAPTER VII. THE COTTAGE IN THE SIDE STREET
CHAPTER VIII. THE PALL OF WINTER
CHAPTER IX. ROBERT AND LUCIA
CHAPTER X. FEEDING THE HUNGRY
CHAPTER XI. MR. SEFTON MAKES A CONFIDENCE
CHAPTER XII. A FLIGHT BY TWO
CHAPTER XIII. LUCIA'S FAREWELL
CHAPTER XIV. PRESCOTT'S ORDEAL
CHAPTER XV. THE GREAT RIVALS
CHAPTER XVI. THE GREAT REVIVAL
CHAPTER XVII. THE WILDERNESS
CHAPTER XVIII. DAY IN THE WILDERNESS
CHAPTER XIX. NIGHT IN THE WILDERNESS
CHAPTER XX. THE SECRETARY LOOKS ON
CHAPTER XXI. A DELICATE SITUATION
CHAPTER XXII. THE LONE SENTINEL
CHAPTER XXIII. OUT OF THE FOREST
CHAPTER XXIV. THE DESPATCH BEARER
CHAPTER XXV. THE MOUNTAIN GENERAL
CHAPTER XXVI. CALYPSO
CHAPTER XXVII. THE SECRETARY AND THE LADY
CHAPTER XXVIII. THE WAY OUT
CHAPTER XXIX. THE FALL OF RICHMOND
CHAPTER XXX. THE TELEGRAPH STATION
CHAPTER XXXI. THE COIN OF GOLD
Отрывок из книги
It was a modest house to which Prescott turned his steps, built two stories in height, of red brick, with green shutters over the windows, and in front a little brick-floored portico supported on white columns in the Greek style. His heart gave a great beat as he noticed the open shutters and the thin column of smoke rising from the chimney. The servants at least were there! He had been gone three years, and three years of war is a long time to one who is not yet twenty-five. There was no daily mail from the battlefield, and he had feared that the house would be closed.
He lifted the brass knocker and struck but once. That was sufficient, as before the echo died his mother herself, come before the time set, opened the door. Mrs. Prescott embraced her son, and she was even less demonstrative than himself, though he was generally known to his associates as a reserved man; but he knew the depth of her feelings. One Northern mother out of every ten had a son who never came back, but it was one Southern mother in every three who was left to mourn.
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Prescott raised his hand and gave a salute which was returned in a careless, easy way. But the rider's bold look of admiration still rested on Helen Harley's face, and even after he had gone on he looked back to see it.
"You know him?" asked Helen of Robert.
.....