“I am alarmed. Tell, me quickly.” And the girl in her excitement laid her hands imploringly on his.
“Arthur joined the volunteers in Toronto some time ago. Did you know that?”
“He never told me. I understand—I think so, but I hope not. He was in the battle today. Is he—has he been—hurt?”
“I don’t know. I’m afraid so,” said Renmark hurriedly, now that the truth had to come out; he realized, by the nervous tightening of the girl’s unconscious grasp, how clumsily he was telling it. “He was with the volunteers this morning. He is not with them now. They don’t know where he is. No one saw him hurt, but it is feared he was, and that he has been left behind. I have been all over the ground.”
“Yes, yes?”
“But I could not find him. I came here hoping to find him.”
“Take me to where the volunteers were,” she sobbed. “I know what has happened. Come quickly.”
“Will you not put something on your head?”
“No, no. Come at once.” Then, pausing, she said: “Shall we need a lantern?”
“No; it is light enough when we get out from the shadow of the house.”