needed only a half-hour's rest, a good breakfast, and a pot of beer
apiece, to make them ready to face the world. Nor did their faces look
anywise rancorous; but at most, only heavy, cloddish, good-natured, and
humane.

"O heavens, Mr. Felton!" whispered Rose, "why should we shoot these men, or
they us? they look kind, if homely. Each of them has a mother and sisters,
I suppose, just like our men."

"It is the strangest thing in the world that we can think of killing them,"
said Septimius. "Human life is so precious."

Just as they were passing the cottage, a halt was called by the commanding
officer, in order that some little rest might get the troops into a better
condition and give them breath before entering the village, where it was
important to make as imposing a show as possible. During this brief stop,
some of the soldiers approached the well-curb, near which Rose and
Septimius were standing, and let down the bucket to satisfy their thirst.
A young officer, a petulant boy, extremely handsome, and of gay and
buoyant deportment, also came up.

"Get me a cup, pretty one," said he, patting Rose's cheek with great
freedom, though it was somewhat and indefinitely short of rudeness; "a
mug, or something to drink out of, and you shall have a kiss for your
pains."

"Stand off, sir!" said Septimius, fiercely; "it is a coward's part to
insult a woman."

"I intend no insult in this," replied the handsome young officer, suddenly