"Hush!" whispered she, in anguish. "I was not to blame for that. Your father was to blame when he deserted us both, my poor boy. How could I fight against fate? In self-defence I parted from you, but I have loved you truly, Edgar."
"May God, to whom I go, forgive your cold rejection of me many times when I have besought you on my knees to let me call you mother. From place to place you have led me, keeping me at a distance all the while, and now my sad, lonely life must end here. Oh, madam, you have been cruel!"
She wept wildly, she raised him in her arms and kissed him many times, but her lips framed no excuse.
"To think that I should find you here, my boy," moaned she, "when I sent you North expressly for safety's sake. Why—why did you enter the army, Edgar?"
"To find death," said the calm, dying voice.
She laid him down upon the straw, and raised her streaming eyes to St. Udo Brand. They recognized him now, and grew hard and fierce. She rose, and clutched him by the arm.
"Where is that fiend in human shape who calls himself Colonel Calembours?" cried she, vehemently.
"I cannot tell," replied St. Udo. "He has played the traitor to the North; he must be with Lee's army."
"He has played the traitor to me, and to that boy, his son!" she exclaimed, vengefully. "He has deserted us for eighteen years, and now my boy is dying. He threw me back among the flames three months ago in Colonel Estvan's house as soon as he recognized in me his wife. Oh! can such a monster escape justice?"
"Did you come here to-day expecting to find Colonel Calembours?" inquired St. Udo, compassionately.