k alive then, but I did hope never to
see mun look so again. And though he can't spake I know what he's
a-thinking. He thinks that the sarjint's come for mun, and it's a
killed the heart within mun."

CHAPTER XIV

There was a long silence when Lucy Dart came to the end of her story.
There were parts of it that struck home to Lady Eleanor, for was not
she also the widow of a soldier who had been killed in action? But
what moved her and Colonel George above all was the change in the
woman's face. While she was talking of her young days her features
were softer; but as she neared the end of her story they grew harder
and harder until they assumed an expression of worn, dogged despair, as
though she still felt the stress of those terrible days in the retreat
to Corunna. She was ghastly pale also, and seemed quite exhausted when
she came to the last word; and both of her visitors recalled her words,
that she had carried her son, a grown man, most of the many miles from
Bracefort to the hut where he now lay.

Colonel George broke the silence by telling Lucy that she must take
care to keep up her own strength as well as her son's, and that he
would come back the next day with a fresh store of provisions for them
both. He begged at the same time to be allowed to bring the doctor
with him, but Lucy positively refused. A doctor could do no good, she
said; and she begged that the colonel would not come again until the
day after to-morrow, as she wished to be left alone.

So with a heavy heart Lady Eleanor bade her good-bye, and they left her
bent over the body of her son; Colonel George saying that he could find
his way back over the bog without help. And so indeed he did, with a
skill which to Lady Eleanor seemed marvellous; but she said not a word
to him until they reached the high ridge, on a point of which she had
once rested while the searching parties were scouring the moor for her
lost children, as weary with watching and misery as the woman from whom
she had just parted. And then for the first time there occurred to her
the readiness, quickness and foresight with which Colonel George had
arranged everything, not only for the finding of the children, but for
letting her know by signal what had happened, for better or worse, as
early as possible. Involuntarily she quickened her horse's pace a
little as she thought of her race home to the children, after they were
found; and then came the chilling remembra