He rose suddenly, and, fixing his fever-filled eyes upon me, demanded of me to bear witness that it was a lie.
"Yes, colonel," I said, as soothingly as I could, "it's a lie: the general is living, and he is your commander still."
I think I will get forgiveness for my own lie.
After a while he sank into something which resembled sleep more and delirium less, and was quiet. Miss Hetherill stepped to the little door for air. Only she and I were there.
"Miss Hetherill," I said, reproaching myself, "how you must blame me for bringing all this grief upon you and yours!"
"You could not help it," she said, very gently, "and perhaps, as I told you before, it may be for the best, after all. A rough cure may be the best cure."
Dr. Ambrose came up then and insisted that we should take rest while others watched. We fenced off a corner of the camp for Grace. I sought my own place, and was soon sound asleep. In the morning I found the colonel in delirium again, though not so violent as he had been in the early part of the night. He was talking about me. I seemed to weigh upon his conscience, as he had weighed upon mine. He had never meant to do it, he said. He would not have executed me, though he still seemed to think that his military duty commanded it. At any rate, he was apologizing to me in his sleep, when a man's talk speaks his thoughts and no falsehoods or evasions.
"How could I execute him?" he said. "And we slept under the same blanket, too."
The second attack of delirium did not last long, and Dr. Ambrose then said that the patient's progress was good: if we could only get him back to Fort Defiance he would guarantee his recovery.