“But Robbie, if you love me, if you love me, dearest, there is yet time to save yourself. I was wrong, Robbie, it was sinful of me to get you to violate your solemn pledge to your dying father. I saw him in my dreams last night, and his face was full of anger. Oh, Robbie, I’ve done wrong, and you—you are the victim.”
He pressed her towards him, patted her cheek, remaining silent, thinking it better to let her speak without interruption.
At last, withdrawing herself from his arms, she returned a step or two and then fell on her knees. She stretched out her hands. “Oh, Robbie, if you love me fly—fly to-night while there is yet time, when you are safe beckon me to come to you, and I’ll follow you if need be around the world.”
Robbie bent down and tenderly lifted her up.
“Dearest, you will crush my heart if you talk in that way. But what you ask is impossible. Be my own brave girl and banish these silly fears. You would not have them brand me a coward or a traitor. I should be one, if not both, if I faltered or fled now when the summons has come. If I could do so, dear, I know that when you and I would meet again I should be ashamed to look into your eyes, counting myself, as I would be, a renegade. No, dearest, I’ll never bring that disgrace upon myself or on the woman who has given me her love.”
And so till the night came he strove to soothe her and to cheer her heart—his own sad enough—but after the final adieu he set out for home for the last time he was ever to visit it, with face set and conscious that he was taking the only course that was open to him, but his heart was dark with forebodings.
The next day he joined Munroe. Poor Rosette remained at home praying and weeping, anticipating always the worst, and unable to shake off the conviction that the day of her happiness had come to a close.
At last the terrible news arrived of the defeat of Munroe at Ballinahinch and the dispersal of his forces. There was at first no word of Robert Grierson, and, of course, Rosette concluded that he was left amongst the slain.
The following day, towards nightfall, a labourer who had been in Robert’s employment, brought her the news that Robert was concealed in his cabin a few miles away. Thither she sped that night to find Robert lying on a heap of clean straw rather badly wounded, but in fairly cheerful spirits.
There he remained for several days, and was rapidly gaining health, and Rosette’s hopes were reviving, and she again indulged the dream that she and Robert would be happy, for she had secured a promise from him which he was now free to give—that, as soon as he was well enough, he would endeavour to escape to France, whither she would follow him.