Mordaunt shook his head.
“I am not going to surrender,” he said. “I have sworn to one I love more than my life—you know whom I mean, Surry—that I would come back, or die, sword in hand; and I will keep my oath.”
The proud face glowed. In the serene but fiery eyes I could read the expression of an unchangeable resolution.
“Another friend of ours has sworn that too,” he said.
“Who?”
“Mohun.”
“And just married! His poor, young wife, like yours, is far from him.”
“You are mistaken; she is near him. She went ahead of the army, and is now at the village here.”
“Is it possible? And where is Mohun?”
“He is holding the advance skirmish line, on the right of Gordon. Look! Do you see that fire, yonder, glimmering through the woods? I left him there half an hour since.”