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 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: