One of their three little children was deaf and dumb, Miss Maryon had
been from the first with all the children, soothing them, and dressing
them (poor little things, they had been brought out of their beds), and
making them believe that it was a game of play, so that some of them were
now even laughing. I had been working hard with the others at the
barricade, and had got up a pretty good breastwork within the gate.
Drooce and the seven men had come back, bringing in the people from the
Signal Hill, and had worked along with us: but, I had not so much as
spoken a word to Drooce, nor had Drooce so much as spoken a word to me,
for we were both too busy. The breastwork was now finished, and I found
Miss Maryon at my side, with a child in her arms. Her dark hair was
fastened round her head with a band. She had a quantity of it, and it
looked even richer and more precious, put up hastily out of her way, than
I had seen it look when it was carefully arranged. She was very pale,
but extraordinarily quiet and still.

"Dear good Davis," said she, "I have been waiting to speak one word to
you."

I turned to her directly. If I had received a musket-ball in the heart,
and she had stood there, I almost believe I should have turned to her
before I dropped.

"This pretty little creature," said she, kissing the child in her arms,
who was playing with her hair and trying to pull it down, "cannot hear
what we say--can hear nothing. I trust you so much, and have such great
confidence in you, that I want you to make me a promise."

"What is it, Miss?"