“Certainly not,” said the colonel firmly. “This is no time for dealing with such a matter. I have enough on my hands to keep the enemy at a distance, and I want every one’s help. But as soon as we are relieved—if we ever are—I am bound, unless Captain Roby and the corporal retract all they have said and attribute it to delirium—I am bound, I say, to call the attention of my superiors to the matter. I shall do so unwillingly, but I must. Out of respect to your brother officers, and for your sake as well, I cannot let this matter slide. It would be blasting your career as a soldier—for you could not retain your commission in this regiment.”
“No, sir,” said Lennox slowly, “nor exchange into another. But it seems hard, sir.”
“Yes, Lennox, speaking to you not as your colonel but as a friend, terribly hard.”
“Then the sooner I am arrested and tried by court-martial, sir, the better. I was ready to return to my duty, but to go on with every one in the regiment looking upon me as a coward is more than I could bear.” The colonel was silent. “Have I your leave, sir, to go back to my quarters?” said Lennox at last.
“Not yet,” said the colonel. “Look here, Lennox; this wretched charge has been made, and I cannot tell my officers and men what they shall and what they shall not believe. An inquiry must take place—by-and-by. Till it is held, the task rests with you to prove to your brother officers and the men that they have misjudged you.”
“And to you, sir,” said Lennox coldly.
“I do not judge you yet, Lennox,” said the colonel gravely. “I am waiting.”
“And how am I to prove, sir, that I am not what they think me?”
The colonel shrugged his shoulders and smiled sadly.
“You need not go and publish what I say, Lennox,” he replied; “but I have very good reason to believe that the Boers are heartily sick of waiting for us to surrender, and that they have received orders to make an end of our resistance.”