He sat his
horse, in the light of the camp-fire,--a huge cavalier upon an animal
as powerful and forbidding in appearance as himself,--and for more than
a minute after the scornful outburst from General Davenant, Darke
remained silent and motionless, with his eyes still fixed upon the
ground:
Then he raised his head, made a sign with his hand to an officer, and
said, briefly:--
"Move back with the column--leave these prisoners here."
At the word, the column moved back slowly; the shadowy figures were
lost sight of in the darkness; General Davenant, his son Charles,
Darke, and myself, were left alone beside the camp-fire.
Then the Federal officer, with a face over which seemed to pass "the
shadow of unutterable things," looked first with a long, wistful,
absorbed glance toward the boy Charles, his brother--lastly, toward his
father.
"Why do you taunt me?" he said, in a low tone. "Will that result in any
good now? Yes, I committed murder. I intended, if I did not commit,
robbery. I killed--yes, I killed!--with a knife--as a murderer kills.
But I do not wish to kill you--or Charley--or this officer--or rob you.
Keep your life and your money. There is the road before you, open. Go;
you are free!"
General Davenant had sat his horse--the boy Charley beside
him--listening in sullen wrath.
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