She looked at him with a look of awakened fear. “You are not going into any great peril?”
“We live among them, one and all of us.”
“But you----”
“Would only carry your thoughts with me--Dorothy, my best beloved,” he cried, taking her hand in his, “before I go I want you to say you love me as I love you.”
She drew her hand away quickly.
“I cannot I cannot. I will tell you why hereafter. My God! I love you.”
He caught her in his arms and kissed her again and again unresistingly. Then she tore herself from his embrace, and with a stifled cry rushed from the room. But he went away happy, with her last words ringing in his ears, and feeling himself ready to do the work he was about to undertake. For while he was talking to Dorothy he had hastily formed a resolution that was lying dormant in his mind for days. In his last conversation with Macpherson, the old soldier had declared his intention of reaching the ships, and Gervase had been dwelling on the project for the last ten days. He knew the task was full of deadly peril--it had already been twice attempted without success, and it seemed so hopeless that he had shrunk from undertaking it. But the sight of Dorothy´s thin and wasted face had removed all his doubts, and he had determined to make one last effort to induce Kirke to undertake the relief. He himself believed that the undertaking was not nearly so formidable as it seemed, and if once a move was made he did not doubt that the boom would prove no very serious barrier. But the great problem was to reach the ships which were lying far down the river. On both sides of the bank the enemy were watching with a vigilance which it seemed impossible to escape. Even if he succeeded in eluding them, he could hardly hope to swim the long six miles in the condition he was in, and to land was almost certain death. But he made up his mind to make the attempt and to trust to the chapter of accidents to carry him safely through.
As he went to look for Walker from whom he desired to obtain his credentials, he felt strong enough for anything. Had not he heard from the sweetest lips in the world the sweetest words he had ever heard spoken. Had he not everything to move him to the attempt? If he lived he would show her that he was not unworthy of her love, for this deed was one that all men would not attempt, and few could carry safely through. There was glory in it and renown, though it was neither glory nor renown that he sought.
When he had told the old colonel of his intentions, the latter at first tried to dissuade him. He was only flinging his life away, he said, for nothing. Others had tried and failed; he could not hope to succeed. Even if he succeeded in reaching the ships, which he could not do, he could tell them nothing that they did not know there. Kirke was a coward or a traitor, and they could not hope for help from him. He could send them letters that meant nothing, but that was all. But Gervase was not to be dissuaded by any argument. He had set his heart upon making the attempt, and his resolution was so evident that at length Walker unwillingly consented, and with a homely piety commended him to the protection of Providence that, however it might frown, had not forsaken them.