“I have no thought of reproaching you, my poor girl,” said the gentle father, caressing his child.
“And do not blame him, papa!—oh, do not blame him! He is dead now!” she wept.
“And the dead are sacred, my girl,” said the major, gathering his child closer to his bosom.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
WINGS GALLANT CHARGE.
“Spare man nor steed, use utmost speed,
Before the sun goes down,
You, sir, must ride,” the colonel cried,
“As far as Pendletown.”
“Colonel,” the brave young man saith,
“To hear is to obey!