“Then, some were sorry—they all were; that military court, I mean; and they went to the Lord General, and said they had done their duty—for it was their duty, you know—and now they begged that two of the Colonels might be spared, and only the other one shot. One would be sufficient for an example for the army, they thought. But the Lord General was very stern, and rebuked them foras-much as, having done their duty and cleared their consciences, they would beguile him to do less, and so smirch his soldierly honor. But they answered that they were asking nothing of him that they would not do themselves if they stood in his great place and held in their hands the noble prerogative of mercy. That struck him, and he paused and stood thinking, some of the sternness passing out of his face. Presently he bid them wait, and he retired to his closet to seek counsel of God in prayer; and when he came again, he said: ‘They shall cast lots. That shall decide it, and two of them shall live.”’

“And did they, papa, did they? And which one is to die?—ah, that poor man!”

“No. They refused.”

“They wouldn’t do it, papa?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“They said that the one that got the fatal bean would be sentencing himself to death by his own voluntary act, and it would be but suicide, call it by what name one might. They said they were Christians, and the Bible forbade men to take their own lives. They sent back that word, and said they were ready—let the court’s sentence be carried into effect.”

“What does that mean, papa?”

“They—they will all be shot.”

Hark!

The wind? No. Tramp—tramp—tramp—r-r-r-umble-dumdum, r-r-rumble-dumdum—

“Open—in the Lord General’s name!”

“Oh, goody papa, it’s the soldiers!—I love the soldiers! Let me let them in, papa, let me!”

She jumped down, and scampered to the door and pulled it open, crying joyously: “Come in! come in! Here they are, papa! Grenadiers! I know the Grenadiers!”

The file marched in and straightened up in line at shoulder arms; its officer saluted, the doomed Colonel standing erect and returning the courtesy, the soldier wife standing at his side, white, and with features drawn with inward pain, but giving no other sign of her misery, the child gazing on the show with dancing eyes.…

One long embrace, of father, mother, and child; then the order, “To the Tower—forward!” Then the Colonel marched forth from the house with military step and bearing, the file following; then the door closed.

“Oh, mamma, didn’t it come out beautiful! I told you it would; and they’re going to the Tower, and he’ll see them! He—”

“Oh, come to my arms, you poor innocent thing!”.…

II