“Now cheer up, Bab,” he said; “but I wish that you damned women would keep your claws more regularly trimmed. You are just like soft, tame, pretty pussycats, that go a-hunting the dear harmless birds. You will not keep your paws down; you love to flesh ’em; and, well, if you slay the dear harmless creature, the dear harmless creature’s slain, and there’s an end on’t. You are sure that you did not mean to do it, and it’s a great pity that you did, and had you thought it would have torn it so, sure you would not a done it for a golden pound. But as he’s dead let his end be dignified, so put down twopence for some masses for his soul!”
“You may gibe,” said I, miserably, “but I would that I were not the wicked wretch I am!”
And I sat down tearful, and in a truly repentant mind, for I could not rid my brain of the unholy image of that poor, pale man stark upon the meadow sward.
“His death was prettier than ever was his life,” said Anthony, still musing on the tragic theme. “For at least he sold his country.”
“But at what cost did he cede it?” I demanded fiercely. “And who spurred him to the deed?”
“That is what I never will enquire,” says he; and the pledge accompanying this sweet speech was of such a gentle consolation that rapture softened my keenest pangs.
Until that moment I did not know what a tender and a faithful heart might do. ’Twas good to feel that a man was mine who could recognise my crime, and yet was strong enough to pardon me for its commission. But like the very female creature that I surely am, I did not pause to consider then that this crime had been committed for the sake of the hero who had condoned it with such a lordly magnanimity.
CHAPTER XIX.
I SUFFER GREAT ADVERSITY.
Of our cruel parting I shall speak little. During the forenoon the soldiers buried their commander in the rude military way. Few were the honours that attended him, and perhaps fewer still the tears. But mine were with him, and also a remorse that I have never yet outlived. That he deserved to die, even as he did, I know; for the world has no room for weakness in a man, and, verily, this poor Captain was the very slave of his. And yet!—was there not ever the great “And yet!” attached to this poor man’s character? His mind was powerful, and better far, his heart was true. He would have been a fitting guardian for the finest woman of us all; a tender lover, an unswerving friend, wise, temperate, of the cream of chivalry withal. I had slain a very pretty man to gain my private ends—I, who in my ignorance had declared that the world held no men whatever!
At two of the clock that afternoon the soldiers started on their London journey with the prisoner in their care. The admonition that I gave to my young lover was of this nature: