CHAPTER XIX.
I SUFFER GREAT ADVERSITY.
Of our cruel parting I shall speak little. During
the forenoon the soldiers buried their commander
in the rude military way. Few were the
honours that attended him, and perhaps fewer still
the tears. But mine were with him, and also a remorse
that I have never yet outlived. That he deserved
to die, even as he did, I know; for the world
has no room for weakness in a man, and, verily, this
poor Captain was the very slave of his. And yet!—was
there not ever the great "And yet!" attached
to this poor man's character? His mind was powerful,
and better far, his heart was true. He would
have been a fitting guardian for the finest woman of
us all; a tender lover, an unswerving friend, wise,
temperate, of the cream of chivalry withal. I had
slain a very pretty man to gain my private ends—I,
who in my ignorance had declared that the world
held no men whatever!
At two of the clock that afternoon the soldiers started on their London journey with the prisoner in their care. The admonition that I gave to my young lover was of this nature:
