"Don't weep for me," said Ready; "my days have been numbered; I'm only sorry that I cannot any more be useful to you."
"Dear good man," said Mrs. Seagrave, "whatever may be our fates, and that is for the Almighty to decide for us, as long as I have life, what you have done for me and mine shall never be forgotten."
Mrs. Seagrave then bent over him, and kissing his forehead, rose and retired weeping into the house.
"William," said Ready, "I can't talk now; raise my head a little, and then leave me. You have not looked round lately. Come again in about half an hour. Leave me now, Mr. Seagrave; I shall be better if I doze a little."
They complied with Ready's request; went up to the planks, and examined carefully all round the stockade; at last they stopped.
"This is a sad business, William," said Mr. Seagrave.
William shook his head. "He would not let me go," replied he; "I wish he had. I fear that he is much hurt."
"I should say that he cannot recover, William. We shall miss him to-morrow if they attack us."
"I hardly know what to say, papa; but I feel that since we have been relieved, I am able to do twice as much as I could have done before."
"I feel the same, but still with such a force against us, two people cannot do much."