_He_ is not dead! No! it was Colonel Mortimer Darke whom you fought
to-night. This is his horse which I borrowed to take a short ride. I have
been captured, but _he_ is neither dead nor captured, and you will
doubtless receive some friendly message from him soon."
Under the mocking accents and the satirical glance, it was easy to read
profound hatred. The speaker could not hide that. At that moment she
resembled a tigress about to spring.
Mohun had listened with absorbing attention as his companion spoke;
but, as on the first occasion, he speedily suppressed his agitation.
His face was now as cold and unmoved as though moulded of bronze.
"So be it, madam," he said; "I will respond as I best can to such
message as he may send me. For yourself, you know me well, and, I am
glad to see, indulge no apprehensions. The past is dead; let it sleep.
You think this interview is painful to me. You deceive yourself, madam;
I would not exchange it for all the wealth of two hemispheres."
And calling an officer, he said:--
"You will conduct this lady to General Stuart, reporting the
circumstances attending her capture."
Mohun made a ceremonious bow to the prisoner as he spoke, saluted me in
the same manner, and mounting his horse, rode back at the head of his
column.
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