“Would to God that we were!”
“Why? Do you so commiserate the unhappiness of others, that you are willing to share it with them?”
“The affliction is not so much my own, captain, as my friend’s.”
“Your friend! Ah! then there is another to whom you may offer condolence. May I inquire his name?”
“Alas! you know it but too well; the person is—yourself!”
“Myself! Is there then some new tale of woe—some additional sorrow to be added to my already heavy burden? Tell it me, I beseech you, colonel—keep me not in suspense.”
“Calm yourself, Captain Sherwood, that you may listen to me.”
Drawing his seat close to that of Edgar, Colonel Hall, in as gentle a manner as possible, related to him Imogene’s sudden and mysterious disappearance, the success of the party that he had dispatched in search of her, and their return to the fort that morning.
At the conclusion of this sad intelligence, Edgar uttered a deep groan. His head sunk forward on his knees in an access of deep emotion, and his eyes were fixed with a vacant stare on the floor.
For several moments, silence, gloomy and profound, reigned. Raising his head slowly, his face, which was now pale and haggard, presented a picture of despair.