The amulet: A novel

by Charles Egbert Craddock

“It is hard to be old and poor, and of no earthly consideration,” plained the old man. “My consent was very easily dispensed with. But—I am a British subject!”

“He ought to have given his consent,” Raymond boldly replied to Captain Howard, “and saved one who only sought to do him kindness from the necessity of incurring ignominy for his sake. But I care not,” he continued, doggedly, tossing his head in its cocked hat. “I should liefer have taken his life, old and gray as he is, than have left him where he stood, if art, or force, or persuasion failed to get him away. No—no, I could not leave him there—if I am to be broke for it!” he declared with passion.

The generous temper of the old missionary was reasserted, although the smart in his heart for his deserted Indian sheep was keen. He looked up wistfully, anxiously, at the young officer who stood in the shadow of discipline, of professional ruin, perhaps, on his account. Oh, it was not his mission to wound, to drag down; but to bind up, to assuage, to save. He spoke suddenly and with a different intonation.

“You intended a benefit, doubtless, young sir. You urged me first with every argument in your power, I admit. You found it hard and not without danger to yourself to persist so long, till indeed the very moment of departure. You shall incur no rebuke nor ignominy on my account. Your methods of ‘persuasion,’ it is true, are somewhat arbitrary,” he added with a wintry smile. “But, Captain Howard, I call you to witness—and soldiers, bear witness, too—I accompany this expedition of my own free will, for doubtless the commandant, after what he has said, would put me ashore if I so desired. I am going to Fort Prince George on the invitation of the commandant very thankfully, and I am grateful to this kind young man for ‘persuading’ me.”

He held out his hand to Raymond, who was still standing. The ensign was startled by this sudden change, and touched by the look in the old man’s face. He made haste to offer his hand in response, and sank down on one knee beside the seat to obviate the distance between them. Suddenly Raymond became aware of that which in the stress of the embarkation and the unusual excitement of their progress down the river had escaped the notice both of officers and soldiers—the fact that in the rapid progress across the “beloved square” some heavy missile unnoticed in the mêlée had inflicted a severe bruise and cut on the face of the old man; a livid line, ghastly and lacerated, extended almost from brow to chin. It had bled freely, and wisps of the thin gray hair were matted upon the wrinkled brow, even more pallid than its wont, for the shock had been severe, inducing for some little time a state of semi-insensibility.

At the sight of this Raymond cried out sharply, as if he, himself, had been struck; the blood surged swiftly into his face; his heart beat almost to suffocation; he looked piteously into the faded, gentle eyes, full of that sanctity which hallows a stainless old age. The sense of sacrilege and horror overcame him.

“Those fiends have wounded you!” he exclaimed, in the low, appalled, staccato tones of intense excitement. Suddenly his eyes filled, and hiding his face against the worn sleeve of the old clergyman’s coat, he burst into a flood of tears, his shoulders shaking with his sobs.

Captain Howard stared in blunt and absolute amaze, but Mr. Morton, better accustomed to ebullitions of emotion, only gently patted the soldier’s scarlet coat as if he were a child.

“I hope you will be more careful how you persuade people after this,” said the commandant, with the manner of improving a moral lesson. Now, however, that Captain Howard had recovered somewhat from the shock of the interference with the liberty of a British subject, he was disposed to congratulate himself on the fact that he had the missionary hard and fast in the boat, and to think that Raymond had conducted himself in a dilemma almost insoluble with extraordinary promptitude, resource, and nerve, and to be rather proud of the subaltern’s ready aplomb.

As to the tears—they were incomprehensible to Captain Howard, and by the rank and file they were deemed a disgrace to the service. The soldiers could not enter into Raymond’s complex emotions, and they were at once the source of wonder and disparagement.