A hearty burst of tears followed the conclusion of this letter; all the pent-up emotion with which my heart was charged broke out at last, and I cried bitterly. Intense passions are, happily, never of long duration, and, better still, they are always the precursors of calm. Thus, tranquil, the dawn of morn broke upon me, when the sergeant came to take my letter, and apprise me that the adjutant would appear in a few moments to read my sentence, and inform me when it was to be executed.
‘Thou’It bear up well, lad; I know thou wilt,’ said the poor fellow, with tears in his eyes. ‘Thou hast no mother, and thou ‘lt not have to grieve for her.’
‘Don’t be afraid, sergeant; I’ll not disgrace the old 9th. Tell my comrades I said so.’
‘I will. I will tell them all! Is this thy jacket, lad?’
‘Yes; what do you want it for?’
‘I must take it away with me. Thou art not to wear it more?’
‘Not wear it, nor die in it! and why not?’
‘That is the sentence, lad; I cannot help it. It’s very hard, very cruel; but so it is.’
‘Then I am to die dishonoured, sergeant; is that the sentence?’
He dropped his head, and I could see that he moved his sleeve across his eyes; and then, taking up my jacket, he came towards me.