Her grave, gray eyes met mine in perfect composure.
"We must stay," she said.
"They are bringing cannon—can you not understand?" I repeated, harshly.
"I will not go," she said. "Every rifle is required here. I cannot take you from these men in their dire need. Dear heart, can you not understand me?"
"Am I to sacrifice you?" I asked, angrily. "No!" I cried. "We have suffered enough—"
Tears sprang to her eyes; she laid her hand on my rifle.
"Other women have sent their dearest ones. Am I less brave than that woman whose husband died yonder on his own door-sill? Am I a useless, passionless clod, that my blood stirs at naught but pleasure? Look at those dead men on the tavern steps! Look at our people's blood on the grass yonder! Would you wed with a pink-and-white thing whose veins run water? I saw them kill that poor boy behind his own barn!—these redcoat ruffians who come across an ocean to slay us in our own land. Do you forget I am a soldier's child?"
A loud voice bellowing from the tavern: "Women here for the bullet-moulds! Get your women to the tavern!"
She caught my hand. "You see a maid may not stand idle in Lexington!" she said, with a breathless smile.