“Yes,” said Belle: “see that poor fellow sitting on the floor with his head down. I’m sure he is sorry, and will be good, and the ofers will too.”
While the little girls were speaking, two more soldiers had come round from the other side of the guard-house. One of them was the corporal; and, hearing what the children said, he answered for the sentry.
“He can’t let them out, little ladies,” he said: “if he did he’d be put there himself.”
As he finished speaking, Colonel Rush stood behind the children. The corporal and the soldiers, even the men behind the grating, saluted the brave English officer, whom they knew by sight, and whom they greatly admired; for the story of his daring and courage were known to the garrison. But the third man, who was hardly more than a lad, still sat with his arms folded, and his head sunk upon his breast.
“My dear children,” said the Colonel, “this is no place for you. What brought you here?”
“Oh! Uncle Horace,” said Bessie, seizing upon his hand; “won’t you ask these policemen-soldiers to let out those poor prisoners? We feel so badly about them.”
“My darling,” answered the Colonel, “they cannot let out these men. They are under arrest, and shut up here because they have done wrong, and the guard are here to keep them from getting out.”
“But see that poor soldier sitting down there,” said Bessie: “he looks so sorry. Maybe, he’s thinking of somebody of his, far away, who will hear he has been in prison, and feel badly about it.”
In her earnestness, she was using every argument she could think of; but she had innocently touched almost the only soft spot in the man’s heart. If he was not at the moment thinking of “somebody of his” who was far away, her words brought the thought of that one to his mind,—that “somebody,” his poor young sister, who would be grieved at his disgrace, hurt at his obstinate wrong-doing, if it ever came to her ears.
He raised his head, and gave a quick glance at the innocent little pleader; and a softened look came over the hard, sullen face.