Page:Peterson's Magazine 1842, Volume I.pdf/262

. Ah !-well, my friend, I was about to tell thee -just at this critical moment, when I beheld the dark muzzles of the guns slowly rising to the proper level, and in another moment a dozen shots would have whistled through my brain-to the surprise of myself and every one else, a young girl ran forward, and breaking through the ranks of the stern soldiery, grasped the officer convulsively round the waist, and besought him to spare my life ; these were her words- Brother ! oh, my brother !pardon him-oh, for mercy sake do not take his lifedid you not hear him say, Mother ! -yes, he has a mother-you too, have a mother. What would thy mother feel, if she were thus to lose thee? She would die ; and would you kill his mother ? Look !-see ! he is bleeding-fainting ; there, I see you relent, good brother ! -dear brother ! heaven has moved thy heart- go, he can no longer harm any of our people. Oh ! how he bleeds ! -mercy- mercy ! Leave him - oh, leave him to die !'-Mon brave ! excuse these tears, they are the first I have shed since that memorable morning. Well- you should have seen the dark looks of the soldiery-the grim smile-the knitted brows relax-the convulsive clutching at the muskets- aye ! men who had never shed a tear, perhaps, before, shed them then-I shan't easily forget it, comrade ; so, to cut short the story, the girl melted her brother's heart, which, being of iron, I'll leave you to guess was no easy task, and which feat nothing but a woman's tears could have accomplished. Oh! the efficacy of woman's tears. The soldiers were drawn off, and I was left, not to die-as advised by my fair preserver-but by her assistance I reached a cottage, where my wounds were dressed ; she dressed them-ah ! there was magic in her touch ; beautiful creature ! how she watched me for weeks with the tenderest care. Aye, and she even found out to love me, too-yes, man, she loved me ; and do you think that I could look upon so much excellence with an indifferent eye, do you ? or an indifferent heart?"

“I should think a man callous, indeed, under such circumstances," replied his companion. 66 Callous ! -a brute man ; mine's not a brute nature, no -I loved her, then -aye, with my whole soul I loved her. You know what succeeded to the events of that campaign. My military duties called me away ; I have been absent five years. In yonder village, then, I left all my hopes ; I swore to love her-and I have kept my word, and of my heart its faith. On, then, comrade ; let's to the goal of my hopes, if you value the happiness of a friend ; I see you sympathize with me." The two friends, after the lapse of half an hour, arrived at the entrance of the village. Ludovic pressed on with eager haste, literally dragging his companion after him, until they came to a certain spot indicated by our hero, where stood a cottage, beautifully situated in the midst of a clump of tall pines, whose dark tops cast down upon

the simple dwelling beneath a rich vernal coloring, that gave to the scene an effect beautiful in the extreme. The two officers entered by a small wicker gate, and approached the entrance ; the house presented a silent and somewhat melancholy aspect ; there was the shaded porch vine-clad, lovely and luxuriant as ever, beneath which Ludovic had passed many hours of real happiness with young Annette. A venerable old man presented himself on their entrance ; his grey locks gave him the appearance of a patriarch; his features were furrowed with the lines of age, and his figure stooped beneath the weight of years. He welcomed them, and bade the noble-looking strangers partake of his best cheer. " There," said he, " I pray you, noble officers, to regale yourselves with our homely wine, and such substantial fare as my scanty larder will afford ; for myself, you will excuse me when I tell you that my only child, a young woman of twenty, is pronounced to be in the last stage of a malady supposed incurable ; the doctor of our village has just quitted her, and he says that she may not live till morning ; therefore I ——— ” "Who not live till morning," interrupted Ludovic ; "what Annette ! -do you mean Annette ?-tell me instantly-delay not an instant, St. Pierre ! lead me to her." The young man was powerfully agitated ; he seized the almost helpless old man by the arm, who gazed on him with looks of astonishment. "Who are you, Sir, who are so familiar with our names ? It cannot be ! -no- not Ludovic, I'm sure ! he was not so tall- not so sunburnt- true, he was handsome," continued the old man, " but not so handsome as rank." "Good father ! -lead me to Annette, I say ; come, talk of identity afterward. I tell you I've come to claim her ; dying-nonsense -impossible ! Why, man, I left her in the bloom of health." "Well, my son, truly am I glad to see thee. Bless thy noble face ! thou art altered, indeed ! Aye, but I should know that scar ;" here the officer pulled off the huge fur cap which had, until this moment, obscured the greater part of his visage. The action betrayed the remains of what had been a severe wound, apparently inflicted with a sabre, and which extended from the right temple downward to the depth of several inches. By this token the old man at once recognised the young soldier, who had been , by his daughter's interference , saved from inevitable death some years before . " Ah ! my son," said he, after surveying him with an admiring gaze from head to foot, and giving a deep groan, " this is a sad return for thee. Why, we deemed you no more ; and Annette, poor angel, has been pining away her existence for months past, under the impression that you had perished in the field. I fear thou hast arrived too late."
 * yourself; besides, your dress and all bespeak you of high