He looked so humble,
deprecatory, and unsoldier-like that she could not repress a
laugh. "I'm not a British cannon," she began, "that you should be
so fearful."
His manhood was now too deeply wounded for further endurance even
from her, for he suddenly straightened himself, and throwing his
rifle over his shoulder, said sternly, "I'm not a coward. I never
hung back from fear, but to keep mother from charity, so I could
fight or die as God wills. You may laugh at the man who never gave
you anything but love, if you will, but you shall never laugh at
my deeds. Call that boasting or not as you please," and he turned
on his heel to depart.
His words and manner almost took away the girl's breath, so
unexpected were they, and unlike her idea of the man. In that
brief moment a fearless soldier had flashed himself upon her
consciousness, revealing a spirit that would flinch at nothing--
that had not even quailed at the necessity of forfeiting her
esteem, that his mother might not want. Humiliated and conscience-
stricken that she had done him so much injustice, she rushed
forward, crying, "Stop, Zebulon; please do not go away angry with
me! I do not forget that we have been old friends and playmates.
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