"It is nothing," he whispered; "it is nothing only the poor mules which we were compelled to shoot, as we could not bring them with us, and dared not leave them to follow, and, by following, betray us."
"More blood!" cried Julia, bursting into a paroxysm of tears; "more blood! my God! when will this have an end?"
"You should have thought of that Julia," replied the young soldier, sharply and bitterly, "before you married a soldier. That done, such thoughts are too late."
"Alas, alas! they are, indeed, too late."
"And do you cry alas! for that, false girl?" exclaimed Gordon, in so loud a tone that his words reached the ears of the Partisan, who instantly reined back his horse, and laying his hand kindly on the young man's arm, said, in a low voice:
"Oh, peace, peace, for shame! Consider what she has borne, what she has yet to bear—and all for you."
"I wish I were in my grave," she answered, raising her mild, soft eyes to meet his. "I never shall be happy more till I lie in it."
"Nay, lady, speak not thus," returned the veteran, warmly. "Death, at the best, is a dread mystery. In God's good time, we must all come to that; to His good wisdom, therefore, let us leave it. And, oh, by no levity or petulance of ours, let us call down His anger on our heads. But, I assure you, it is no gloomy place, no fearful or dark abiding-place, that I hope to conduct you, but to a sort of fairy bower, inhabited," he added, assuming a tone of gayety which he perhaps scarcely felt "by what I thought, till I met your blue eyes, Mistress Gordon, the loveliest woman I e'er looked upon."
Despite herself, Julia Gordon was interested and amused, and yielding, womanlike to the immediate impulse, she cried: "What! a fairy bower, and a fair woman, in this howling wilderness?"
"Aye, lady, even so! and thereby hangs a tale, which, as you will be thrown, I think, upon her hospitality, and as it may beguile the tediousness of our night-march, I will relate to you, if you choose to hear it."