“Mordaunt told me. It must be a great delight to you, Mohun.”
He smiled, and sighed.
“Yes,” he replied, “but a sort of sorrow, too.”
“Why a sorrow?”
Mohun was silent. Then he said:—-
“I think I shall fall to-morrow.”
“Absurd!” I said, trying to laugh, “Why should you fancy such a thing?”
“I am not going to surrender, Surry. I swore to Chambliss, my old comrade, that I would never surrender, and he swore that to me. He was killed in Charles City—he kept his word; I will not break mine, friend.”
My head sank. I had taken my seat on Mohun’s cape, and gazed in silence at the fire.
“That is a terrible resolution, Mohun,” I said at length.