Jeers and hoots from the boys resounded at her last pas seul, and Clifford's voice was heard in the gay tumult saying: "Mademoiselle dis Grace must have learned her step at an Irish wake."
"Let us no longer serve an ungrateful public," said Maud, as they sat down to the table, where their gayety chased away all traces of care or sorrow. When the meal was finished, Maud and Grace begged Colonel Warlow to relate his early history. Their request was eagerly seconded by the other members of the company, who were anxious to learn the particulars of that tragedy, hinted at by the inscription on the mound, and how he came to be connected with the actors in that terrible drama, and to lose a great fortune on that spot so long ago. Then the colonel, after sitting for a few moments wrapped in serious thought, replied that it was a long story, and would require more than one evening to relate all the particulars of that great tragedy, that would always be fresh in his memory as long as life endured.
The company reminded him that it would be rather lonesome on their first Sabbath, and entreated him so eagerly that at length he consented; then, as the firelight leaped and sparkled, and the beams of the rising moon silvered the waters of the stream, moaning and fretting over the stony ford, they all gathered about the colonel, still and expectant. The quavering scream of a lone wolf died out on the hills in a plaintive wail; then only the faint whisper of the wind sighing though the willow was heard, and the colonel said:—
Chapter II.
COLONEL WARLOW'S STORY.
"When a boy of twenty I joined the army that soon invaded Mexico, and carried victory with its banners into the Aztec capital—the world-renowned halls of the Montezumas.
"It was before Vera Cruz—when our ranks were swept by the iron hail, rained upon our storming columns by scores of cannon from San Juan de Ulloa—that I first saw Bruce Walraven, whom I was thenceforth to regard as a brother.
"An exploding shell had killed my horse, which had fallen upon me in such a way that made it impossible for me to rise without assistance; and while I was yet vainly struggling to extricate myself from the dangerous position, a squadron of cavalry rushed by, charging a company of Mexican infantry intrenched behind a light breastwork of sand-bags. I held up my hand with an imploring gesture—a human voice was lost in the wild thunder and roar of artillery—and the leader of the cavalry saw my sad plight. He wavered a moment as though struggling with discipline; but the sight of a fellow-soldier in distress seemed to outweigh all else, even the pride of leading his men, for he dashed to my side and helped me to rise; then, as a riderless horse galloped by, he caught its dangling rein, and by his help, in a moment more I was again in the saddle.
"By rapid riding we soon overtook the command, and were greeted by a ringing cheer from the soldiers, who quickly showed their appreciation of his humanity. Later in the war I would not have been so fortunate; but we were new, as yet, to scenes of bloodshed and carnage, which accounted for the laxity of discipline, but evidence of humanity, shown in this incident.