But to be shot like a
cur in the grizzly morning! Yet their horror, their anger, was against
the military law, and was born of a fear that the same thing might come
to them. It was that which cut him to the quick. It was not that _he_
was to be shot the next day, but that _they_ might meet a similar fate.
That was the fear which drove the blood from their cheeks and left
their lips parted in awe.

And then he saw a face which almost broke down his manhood, and sent
scalding tears to the very brink. It was the face of the lad he had
saved from deserting that terrible night. The boy's agony was for him
alone; it was pleading for understanding; it was trying to tell him
that he would never forget--that the condemned man would not go to his
death unmourned by one human heart.

III.

It was his last night. All evening the chaplain had been with him,
offering the solace of divine mercy and forgiveness; but though he was
grateful for the good man's ministrations, Durwent felt that he wanted
to be alone. He hardly knew why; but there were many things to think
of, things which would be remembered more easily if he were by himself.
Towards eleven o'clock he made the request of the chaplain, who left
him, promising to return shortly after midnight; and, with his hands
clasped behind his back, Dick walked slowly up and down the hut.

His mind journeyed to Roselawn--and Elise. At least--and at the
thought he struck his hands together with joy--she would never know.
She would think he had died in China. For several minutes he walked
without his thoughts taking any other form than that, but gradually the
realisation of his surroundings began to leave him. He was roaming
through the woods with Elise; they were climbing a great tree for
birds' eggs; they were casting flies for trout in the stream that ran
through their estate; they were riding across country on ponies that
whinnied with pleasure at the feel of the soft turf. But wherever his
hungry imagination painted her, there was in her face the womanly
tenderness that had always been hers in their companionship.

He stopped in his walk and pressed his clenched fingers against his
lips. She had always believed in him. Through all the hell in which
the Fates had cast his destiny, she had been one star towards which he
could grope. But now--a drunkard--a renegade soldier of a renegade
battalion--to be shot. He had killed her trust! The horrors of the
night clos