History and genealogy of Peter Montague, of Nansemond and ...

INTRODUCTION. 43
present was already her grave—she could tell us nothing of the
present. She still leant against the old tree, and we were so soothed
by the silence and tranquility of the scene, that we lingered among
the tombs, when suddenly we heard a quick, light step behind us,
and before we could turn around to ascertain whence it came, a thin
hand rested on our arm, and a pale face, the lips parted over white
and glittering teeth, and the eyes, deep sunk and restless, were
advanced so close to our own that we started back almost in terror.
' Can you tell me the grave ? ' she inquired eagerly, but in a low
voice :
' oh ! if you know it, do tell me ! I know he is buried here
they all own that, but they will not tell me where ;
do
tell me— I am
sure you will—come, make haste !
The lady was dressed in faded mourning, the crape was drawn and
crumpled, and the widow's cap beneath her bonnet did not conceal
a quantity of fair hair, which looked the fairer from being streaked
with grey.
' What grave ? ' we
inquired of the pale, panting little creature, who
wrung her hands impatiently, ' what grave ?
' Oh ! you know—my husband's ! Round
and round, across, along
—from the first tap of the reveille to the last drum-roll at night, I
seek his grave. I throw myself down and talk to the dead and
buried, but they tell me to let them alone :
and
they say he is not
here, but / know he is. We went out in the same ship and returned
in the same ship, so we must be both here, you know. We went out
in the same ship,' she repeated, mournfully, 'and they buried him
here. Oh !
have
pity—have pity, and help me to find his grave !
She hurried us on, pointing to each green mound we passed— ' It is
not that, nor that, nor that— no, no !
do
not look at the tombstones,
there was no time to put one up— the enemy was too fast on us for
that !
' She
cast herself on her knees beside a grave close to a bank,
murmuring ' ' Charles ! into the long grass, and holding up her finger
to indicate that we should keep silence, expecting an answer.
At the instant a tall, venerable gentleman entered the lonely graveyard—
' Jane, my child—my darling,' he said, tenderly, ' here again !
Come, my child, we can look for the grave to-morrow.' The old
man's eyes were filled with tears ; but she did not heed him, mur-
muring amid the grass. 'Forgive her,' he said, ' my
mind wanders : her
poor child's
husband was killed at Inkerman, and she fancies
!
he is buried where they were married ' It required some little force