I placed the pieces edge to edge upon the table.  The old familiar words looked up at me again, solemnly.  Again I felt my heart choke my throat as I read:  “I, John Cowles—­I, Ellen Meriwether—­take thee—­take thee—­until death do us part.”

I handed her a pencil.  She wrote slowly, freakishly, having her maiden will; and it seemed to me still a week to a letter as she signed.  But at last her name stood in full—­E-l-l-e-n M-e-r-i-w-e-t-h-e-r.

“General,” I said, “this indenture witnesseth!  We two are bound by it.  We have ‘consented together in holy wedlock.’  We have ’witnessed the same before God.’  We have ‘pledged our faith, either to other.’”

He dashed his hand across his eyes; then, with a swift motion, he placed our hands together.  “My boy,” said he, “I’ve always wanted my girl to be taken by an Army man—­an officer and a gentleman.  Damn it, sir!  I beg your pardon, Ellen—­give me that pencil.  I’ll sign my own name—­I’ll witness this myself!  There’s a regimental chaplain with our command—­if we can’t find a preacher left in Charlottesville.”

“Orderly!” I called, with a gesture asking permission of my superior.

“Yes, orderly,” he finished for me, “get ready to ride to town.  We have an errand there.”  He turned to us and motioned us as though to ownership, bowing with grave courtesy as he himself left the room.  I heard the chatter of Mrs. Kitty greet him.  I was conscious of a grinning black face peering in at a window—­Annie, perhaps.  They all loved Ellen.

But Ellen and I, as though by instinct, stepped toward the open door, so that we might again see the mountain tops.

I admit I kissed her!