g for life against
the malevolence of a virulent enemy, contending too against that
monstrous perversion of justice which so often sways a court-martial
--composed as it is of men little qualified by training for impartial
judgment--towards the severest interpretation where an officer
without influence is concerned, to win a cheap applause from
outsiders and inferiors.

My blood ran cold at the thought. I stared at the lanthorn until
my eyes ached, and, when I looked elsewhere, the image of the flame
only faded to give place to another scene in the drama that tried
my fortitude almost beyond endurance: It was early dawn outside
the Brouillon Bastion, chilling sheets of fog swept in from over
the dull waters, and there, with back against the ramparts, stood
a coatless figure, with pinioned arms and bandaged eyes, facing a
file of soldiers--the dreadful waiting in the dark, the whispered
commands, the sudden movement of the men, and then--I jumped to my
feet trembling in every limb, and with shaking hand wiped the
gathered perspiration from my forehead, but could not wipe away
the vision of the men staring at the motionless figure lying face
downward on the trampled grass, dishonoured, never to be spoken
of, until the Great Day, when all the injustices of the ages shall
be righted and made clear.

I again seized the lanthorn and re-examined every stone and corner
with feverish hope, only to have despair triumph over it more
completely than before. Then came a season of mad revolt. It was
too horrible! too impossible! that I, Hugh Maxwell, a gentleman,
who had lived delicately, who had shone in society which the world
courted, who had loved fair women, had talked, and smiled, and sung
to them, could in a few short hours be lying a mangled corpse in
this obscure corner of the world, could die the death of a dog, of
a traitor, the most shameful that can come to a man of honour. I
was filled with a vast pity for myself, so mighty and overwhelming
that tears filled my eyes as for another, for I saw myself apart,
as it were, as distinctly as I saw that pitiful figure before the
ramparts; then the childishness of it flashed across me and I
laughed aloud; but my laughter was no more real than my tears, for
neither brought relief, and the weary round began again.

How many hours this continued I do not know, but my attention was
suddenly arrested by a sound at the door, and I made out a jingle
of keys. Quickly blowing out the