He forgot, for the moment, that by his own choice it was no longer his own.
Harry sat on his horse and looked a long time at that far white glow, deep down under the horizon.

There was the capital of his own country, the real capital.

Somehow he could not divest himself of that idea, and he looked until mists and vapors began to float up from the lowlands, and the white gleam was lost behind them.

Then he rode on slowly and thoughtfully, trying to think of a plan that would bring rich rewards for the cause for which he was going to fight.
He had discovered something already.

He had seen the bayonets of a regiment marching to join the Northern army, and he had no doubt that he would see others.