In the confusion he had lost his grip on the other’s horse, which bolted at the sound. And taking quick stock of the situation, the cavalryman seemed to feel much the same panic. For he too rode away, as if the Devil rode behind him. His hoofbeats died slowly in the distance.
Recovering somewhat from the shock, Mary rose and went to the crumpled form of her deliverer, to see if anything could be done. The ball had pierced his back, but perhaps.....
Raising his upper body carefully, she drew him clear of the other. Then kneeling, she slowly laid him down, causing the fair, curly head to loll weakly into her lap. She let out a gasp as a familiar face looked up at her, and said her name with a smile.
“My Mary.”
It was James Talbert, her cousin, and companion of her youth. And though he lay dying, there was yet a look of strained happiness on his worn, still boyish face.
“James!” she choked through her tears. “You should have just let them..... Oh. Don’t die!”
“Hush, my girl. I don’t mind.” His words were quiet but distinct. “You don’t know it---” His face clouded with pain, and for a time he was unable to speak.
“You’ve done me a kindness,” he said finally. “You’ve given my death meaning.” With this he stiffened, and gave a convulsive shudder. She feared he was already gone; but after a pause the blue eyes opened again, and he spoke. “Will you do something for me?”
“Anything,” she wept. “Anything.”
“Kiss me, Mary.” Brushing the tear-stained hair from her face, she did as he asked.