“Unfortunately, for your reasoning,” replied Hansford, “the term for which Berkeley was appointed governor has expired some years since.”
“That miserable subterfuge will scarcely avail, since you tacitly acknowledged his authority by acting under his commission. But I have no time to be discussing with you on the nature of your offence, of which, at least, I am not the judge. I will only add, that conscious innocence is not found skulking in dark forests, and obscure hiding places. Call Thompson, with the horses, Holliday. It is time we were off.”
“One word, before we leave,” said Hansford, sadly. “My pistol ball took effect, I know; who is its victim?”
“A poor Indian girl, who conducted us to your fastness,” said Bernard. “I had forgotten her myself, till now. Look, Holliday, does she still live?”
“Dead as a herring, your honour,” said the man, as he bent over the body, with deep feeling, for, though accustomed to the flow of blood, he had taken a lively interest in the poor girl, from what he had seen and overheard. “And by God, Cap'n, begging your honour's pardon, a brave girl she was, too, although she was an Injin.”
“Poor Mamalis,” said Hansford, tenderly, “you have met with an early and a sad fate. I little thought that she would betray me.”
“Nay, wrong not the dead,” interposed Bernard, “I assure you, she knew nothing of the object of our coming. But all's fair in war, Major, and a little intrigue was necessary to track you to this obscure hold.”
“Well, farewell, poor luckless maiden! And so I've killed my friend,” said Hansford, sorrowfully. “Alas! Mr. Bernard, my arm has been felt in battle, and has sent death to many a foe. But, God forgive me! this is the first blood I have ever spilt, except in battle, and this, too, flows from a woman.”
“Think not of it thus,” said Bernard, whose hard nature could not but be touched by this display of unselfish grief on the part of his prisoner. “It was but an accident, and should not rest heavily on your soul. Stay, Holliday, I would not have the poor girl rot here, either. Suppose you take the body to Windsor Hall, where it will be treated with due respect. Thompson and myself can, meantime, attend the prisoner.”
“Look ye, Cap'n,” said Holliday, with the superstition peculiar to vulgar minds; “'taint that I'm afeard exactly neither, but its a mighty dissolute feeling being alone in a dark night with a corp. I'd rather kill fifty men, than to stay by myself five minutes, with the smallest of the fifty after he was killed.”