Elizabeth sprang forward. "No, no," she cried impetuously, forgetting everything but the terror.
But the calling of the names was going on again, and her voice was unheard, except by a few who stood near her. Before she could make her way up to the General, the boat pulled by the vigorous strokes of the men who had been taunted as laggards, had shot out of sight. "Oh! bring them back, bring back that last boat," she implored Pepperell in such distress that he, knowing her a woman not given to idle fears, felt a sense of impending evil as he answered:
"My dear, I cannot. No boat is sure of meeting it in the dark, and to call would endanger the expedition."
There was no use in explaining now. She would have occasion enough to do it sometime, she feared; and then it would be useless. To-night she could say nothing. All these days she had dreaded what might come, for it did not seem to her that Captain Archdale took any care at all. Still, in the camp, out of general action, and surrounded by others, there had been comparative safety.
Now the hour, the place, and the purpose had met. Through the darkness Stephen Archdale was going to his doom.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A WOUNDED MAN.
The General sent Elizabeth away very kindly. She sent the weary Nancy to bed and went back to the hospital. But anxiety mastered her so that she could not keep her hands from trembling or her voice from faltering when there was most need for steadiness.