As the last stragglers
of the rear guard swept by, Brant's bugles were already recalling the
skirmishers. He redoubled his pickets, and resolved to wait and watch.
And there was the more painful duty of looking after the wounded and the
dead. The larger rooms of the headquarters had already been used as a
hospital. Passing from cot to cot, recognizing in the faces now drawn
with agony, or staring in vacant unconsciousness, the features that he
had seen only a few hours before flushed with enthusiasm and excitement,
something of his old doubting, questioning nature returned. Was there
no way but this? How far was HE--moving among them unscathed and
uninjured--responsible?
And if not he--who then? His mind went back bitterly to the old days of
the conspiracy--to the inception of that struggle which was bearing
such ghastly fruit. He thought of his traitorous wife, until he felt
his cheeks tingle, and he was fain to avert his eyes from those of his
prostrate comrades, in a strange fear that, with the clairvoyance of
dying men, they should read his secret.
It was past midnight when, without undressing, he threw himself upon his
bed in the little convent-like cell to snatch a few moments of sleep.
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