For, though we had not heard what they
said, we know it must be good for us.
At that time, too, as was only natural, those poor mothers in our
company, whose children had been killed, shed many tears. I thought the
sight seemed to console them while it made them cry; but, whether I was
right or wrong in that, they wept very much. On this seventh night, Mrs.
Fisher had cried for her lost darling until she cried herself asleep. She
was lying on a little couch of leaves and such-like (I made the best
little couch I could for them every night), and Miss Maryon had covered
her, and sat by her, holding her hand. The stars looked down upon them.
As for me, I guarded them.
"Davis!" says Miss Maryon. (I am not going to say what a voice she had.
I couldn't if I tried.)
"I am here, Miss."
"The river sounds as if it were swollen to-night."
"We all think, Miss, that we are coming near the sea."
"Do you believe now, we shall escape?"
"I do now, Miss, really believe it." I had always said I did; but, I had
in my own mind been doubtful.
"How glad you will be, my good Davis, to see England again!"
I have another confession to make that will appear singular. When she
said these words, something rose in my throat; and the stars I looked
away at, seemed to break into sparkles that fell down my face and burnt
it.
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