* * * * *
The division marched about sunrise, and Quentin, instead of being as usual with the grenadiers of the gallant Borderers, enjoying the society of Askerne and other officers, found himself trudging with the quarter-guard, a special prisoner, and kept apart from all others under a small escort, that marched on each side of him with muskets loaded and bayonets fixed; for not being a commissioned officer, there could be no other arrest for him than a close one.
And thus, with a heavy—heavy heart, full almost to bursting with mortification and grief, ignorant of the accusations against him and of what was to be his fate, he marched with the division towards the ancient city of Alva on the Tormes, which they entered on the evening of the 4th December, and there, as they were to halt for seven days, Quentin was informed by Lieutenant Buckle that he was to be tried by a general court-martial.
He felt that all, indeed, was over with him now!
CHAPTER IX.
THE PRISONER.
"I would my weary course were o'er,
Yet scarce can look for end save this,
To dash to pieces on the shore,
Or founder in the dark abyss.
Fond thoughts, sweet hopes! oh, far more blest
My bosom had it never known
Your presence, since in vain possest,
To lose you while you seemed my own."
RODRIGUEZ LOBO.
He rapidly learned that the court-martial was in the garrison orders to assemble on the 5th instant, and that charges of the most serious nature, involving, perhaps, the terrible penalty of—death, were to be brought against him!
What sudden mystery—what inexplicable horror was this?
On the night he entered Alva he was relieved from the humiliation of an armed escort or guard by the influence of Askerne and Warriston, who both bound themselves by their parole of honour for his appearance whenever required. He was thus at liberty to go about the town, but he cared not to avail himself of it, and remained in his quarters.