“I gave her a pass, Abe. She was so beautiful I couldn't help it.”
Abe scratched his head.
“If she so preety, me s'pose you keep her all more for that. No let her go.”
Perez did not explain this point, but presently said:
“Abe, you may let the men go home, if you want. It's nothing to me any more what happens here in Stockbridge. The silk stockings are welcome to come and hang me as soon as they please,” and his head dropped on his breast like one whose life has suddenly lost its spring and motive.
“Look a here, Cap'n,” said Abe, “you say to me, Abe, stop that air gal, fetch her back. Good. Me do it quick. Cap'n feel all right again.”
“I can't, Abe, I can't. I promised. I gave her my word. I can't. I wish she had asked me to cut my throat instead,” and he despairingly shook his head.
Abe regarded him with evident perplexity for some moments, and then with an abrupt nod of the head turned and glided out of the room. Perez, in his gloomy preoccupation did not even note his going. His head sunk lower on his breast, and he murmured to himself wild words of passion and despair.
“If she only knew. If she knew how I loved her. But she would not care. She hates me. She will never come back. Oh, no, never. I shall never see her again. This is the end. It is the end. How beautiful she was!” and he buried his face in his arms on the table and wept miserable tears.
There were voices and noises about and within the guardhouse, but he took no note of them. Some one came into the room, but he did not look up, and for a moment Desire Edwards, for she it was, in hat and cloak, stood looking down on him. Then she said, in a voice whose first accent brought him to his feet as if electrified: