The man stood looking at her a moment; then turned on his heel. “The presence of a lovely female in distress was always too much for me,” he muttered. “We will pursue our search further, and perhaps will pay you a visit later. We will respect your desire to be alone. We, too, have lost a friend.” He nodded toward the hall where his comrade lay.
“He has gone beyond our resentment,” said Lettice, gently. “We will bury him in our own graveyard, unless you wish to bear him away with you.”
“No, he will rest as well in one spot as in another,” returned the man. “We will continue our duty and leave him to your kind offices.”
He then gathered his men about him and strode away.
Betty had followed the searching party downstairs, and now appeared with the candle. She held it so its rays fell on Jamie’s white face. “Jamie!” she cried. “Our Jamie! Oh, what terrible thing is this?”
He opened his eyes and smiled to see Rhoda bending over him. “I saved you, dear, didn’t I?” he whispered.
“Yes, you saved me,” she controlled her voice sufficiently to answer.
He let his gaze rest a moment upon her, and then he looked at Lettice. “Kiss me, little sister,” he said. She leaned over and kissed his pale lips. One of his hands stirred as if seeking something, and Rhoda slipped her fingers in his. He gave them a slightly perceptible pressure. His eyes, large and imploring, searched her face. She understood what he would ask, and she, too, leaned over and kissed him solemnly, and into the searching eyes crept a satisfied look.
“Can we not get him into the house?” said Betty, in distress. “Is there nothing we can do?” For answer there was a quiver of the lad’s eyelids, one sigh, and then his young heart had ceased to beat.
Down the road the British soldiers were disappearing. The three women sat sobbing convulsively. They had no thought for past or present danger, nor for anything but the presence of this great sorrow.