“’T is not for that,” she explained. “Once I loved him, I own. But in a moment of direst need, when I appealed to him, he failed me; and though now I better understand his resentment against my father and myself I could never bring myself to forgive his cruelty, even were my love not dead.”
“I will not believe it of him. Hot and impulsive he is by nature, but never cruel or resentful.”
“’T is, alas! but too true,” grieved Janice.
Once again the baronet choked with blood and struggled for a moment convulsively. Then more faintly he said: “Wilt give him my love and a good-by?”
“I will,” sobbed the girl.
Nothing more was said for some time, then Mobray asked faintly: “Is it that I am losing consciousness, or has the firing eased?”
Janice raised her head with a start. “Why, it has stopped,” she exclaimed. “What can it mean?”
“That courage and tenacity have done their all, and now must yield. Poor Cornwallis! I make no doubt he’d gladly change places with me at this instant.”
Here Mr. Meredith’s voice broke in upon them, as standing in the mouth of the cave he called: “Come, Janice. The firing has ceased, to permit an exchange of flags with the rebels. Up with ye, and get the fresh air while ye can.”
“I will stay here, father,” replied the girl, “and care for—”