“The white rose is red now, Rosa.”

“Oh, my darling! my darling!” Rosa sobbed; and the boy, smiling in the joy of it, tried to raise himself to fold her in his arms.  But the long tension had been too much—­he fell back unconscious.

Olympia saw that Mrs. Atterbury, the natural head of the house, was unequal to the dismal burden of control.  She took the painful duty of order upon herself, sent Jack to summon the servants, called Barney to her aid in removing Dick to his room, and, when the terrified housemaids came, distributed the rest to the nearest apartments.  Morning had dawned when the work was done, and then Jack set out to investigate the condition of the quarters.  Twenty or more of the negroes had disappeared.  It was easy to trace them to the swamp, but Jack made no attempt to organize a pursuit.  Blood could be traced on the white shell path leading to the rose-fields, and the pond gate was wide open.  He reported the state of affairs to Mrs. Atterbury.  She begged him to take horse to Williamsburg, bring the surgeon, and deliver a note to the commanding officer.  He returned in two hours with the surgeon, and a half-hour later a cavalry troop clattered into the grounds.

Dick’s wound was first examined.  The ball had entered the fleshy part of his chest, just under the armpit.  It was readily extracted, and, if so much blood had not been lost, the boy would not be in serious danger.  Wesley had died almost instantly.  The ball entered his breast just above the heart.  He had passed away painlessly.  Jones was shot through the right shoulder, the ball passing clear across the breast, grazing the upper ribs, and lodging just above the left lung.  He was, by Mrs. Atterbury’s command, removed to the quarters and delivered to the commander of the cavalry troop as a spy, an inciter of servile insurrection.  By order of the department commander, civilians were refused all communication with him, as the Davis cabinet meant to make a stern example so soon as he was able to bear trial.  Mrs. Atterbury announced to Jack and Olympia that so soon as Dick could bear removal the house would be closed and the family return to Richmond.  They heard this with relief, for the place had become hideous to all now.  To Jack it was a reminder of his misfortune, and to every one of the group it was associated with crime, treason, and blood.  The hardest part of poor Jack’s burden was the seizure of Barney, who was marched off by the cavalry commander.  Vincent gone, Jack had no one to reach the ear of authority, and he shrank from asking the intervention of the mistress whose home had been invaded by the guiltless culprit.  The case was stated with all the eloquence Jack was master of to the captain in command.