Above the tramping of feet, the melody rose and fell on the distant air, dying away as the figures vanished in the gloom. With its love of native land, its expression of the unity of comradeship and ties stronger than death, the song appeared to challenge an answer; and, when the music ceased, and only the drum-beats still seemed to make themselves heard, she raised her head without moving from her position and looked at him to see if he understood. But though she glanced at him, she hardly saw him. In her mind was another picture––the betrayed garrison; the soldiers slain!––and the horror of it threw such a film over her gaze that he became as a figure in some distressing dream.
An inkling of her meaning––the mute questioning of her eyes––the dread evoked by that revolting vision of the past––were reflected in his glance.
“Deceived you?” he began, and his voice, to her, sounded as from afar. “How––what––”
“Must it be––could it be put into words?”
The deepest shadows dwelt in her eyes; shadows he could not penetrate, although he still doggedly, yet apprehensively, regarded her! Watching her, his brow grew darker.
“Why not?” he continued, stubbornly.
Why? The dimness that had obscured her vision lifted. Now she saw him very plainly, indeed; tall 342 and powerful; his face, harsh, intense, as though by the vigor of physical and mental force he would override any charge or imputation.