Chapter 24 - Page 2

the first."

"These are not scenes for a form like yours," added the trooper. "'Tis
enough that Britain calls our youth to the field; but when such
loveliness becomes the victim of war, I sicken of my trade."

"Hear me, Captain Lawton," said Isabella, raising herself with
difficulty, but rejecting aid. "From early womanhood to the present hour
have I been an inmate of camps and garrisons. I have lived to cheer the
leisure of an aged father, and think you I would change those days of
danger and privation for any ease? No! I have the consolation of
knowing, in my dying moments, that what woman could do in such a cause,
I have done."

"Who could prove a recreant, and witness such a spirit! Hundreds of
warriors have I witnessed in their blood, but never a firmer soul among
them all."

"'Tis the soul only," said Isabella. "My sex and strength have denied me
the dearest of privileges. But to you, Captain Lawton, nature has been
more bountiful; you have an arm and a heart to devote to the cause; and
I know they are in arm and a heart that will prove true to the last.
And George--and--" she paused, her lip quivered, and her eye sank to
the floor.

"And Dunwoodie!" added the trooper. "Would you speak of Dunwoodie?"

"Name him not," said Isabella, sinking back, and concealing her face in
her garments. "Leave me, Lawton--prepare poor George for this
unexpected blow."

The trooper continued for a little while gazing, in melancholy interest,
at the convulsive shudderings of her frame, which the scanty covering
could not conceal, and withdrew to meet his comrade. The interview
between Singleton and his sister was painful, and, for a moment,
Isabella yielded to a burst of tenderness; but, as if aware that her
hours were numbered, she was the first to rouse herself to exertion. At
her earnest request, the room was left to herself, the captain, and
Frances. The repeated applications of the surgeon, to be permitted to
use professional aid, were steadily rejected, and, at length, he was
obliged unwillingly to retire.

"Raise me," said the dying young woman, "and let me look on a face that
I love, once more." Frances silently complied, and Isabella turned her
eyes in sisterly affection upon George. "It matters but little, my
brother--a few hours must close the scene."

"Live, Isabella, my sister, my only sister!" cried the youth, with a
burst of sorrow that he could not control. "My father! my poor father--"

"There is the sting of death; but he is a soldier and a Christian. Miss
Wharton, I would speak of what interests