Charles Hawker had laid down in an inner room, and was sleeping uneasily, when he was awakened by some one, and, looking up, saw Major Buckley, with a light in his hand, bending over him. He started up.
"What is the matter, sir?" he asked. "Why do you look at me so strangely? Is there any new misfortune?"
"Charles," said the Major, "you have no older friend than me."
"I know it, sir. What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to stay at home to-morrow."
"Anything but that, sir. They will call me a coward."
"No one shall do so. I swear that he who calls you a coward shall feel the weight of my arm."
"Why am I not to go with them? Why am I to be separated from the others?"
"You must not ask," said the Major; "perhaps you will know some day, but not yet. All I say to you is, go home to your mother to-morrow, and stay there. Should you fire a shot, or strike a blow against those men we are going to hunt down, you may do a deed which would separate you from the rest of mankind, and leave you to drag on a miserable guilty life. Do you promise?"
"I will promise," said Charles; "but I wonder——"