It was true. Neither the brave Free Sword nor his heroic wife could anywhere be seen on the field. The fiery spirit that had animated and inspired the whole band was gone. And fear had fallen upon his followers. And all who were not dead, wounded or prisoners, were flying in all directions hotly pursued by the Federals. Colonel Goldsborough, seeing that the day was lost, wheeled around, put spurs to his horse, and dashed down the hill-side, in the direction of the grove where he had left Elfie and the parson under guard. CHAPTER XXIV. THE FATE OF THE FREE SWORD. “No more, there is no more,” he said, “To lift the sword for now! For thee my fields were won, And thou hast perished.”— They might have chained him as before That stony form he stood, For the power was stricken from his arm, As from his lips the blood.—HEMANS. Riding recklessly over the dead and dying, Albert Goldsborough rushed onward, until at the entrance of an old turnpike road he was arrested by a sight that might have stopped an army in its flight. In the dust, on the ground, knelt Vittorio Corsoni, the terrible Free Sword, supporting in his arms the pale form of his beloved wife, and gazing down on her still face in unutterable anguish and despair. Beside him lay his hat and plume and his sword, cast off as though useless to him evermore. “Dead!” exclaimed Albert Goldsborough, in horror and amazement. The Free Sword did not reply or look up; he did not even seem to see or hear the man who addressed him. The sound of approaching horses’ feet startled Colonel Goldsborough from his trance of amazement. “Corsoni! It is no use to sit there and be captured! Up and fly! _all is lost!_” he exclaimed, putting spurs to his horse and speeding away. “Yes, _all is lost_!” murmured the Free Sword, without removing his eyes from the dead face over which he bent. Another horseman came thundering up in a cloud of dust. It was Mutchison. “Fly! fly, Colonel Corsoni! Rosenthal is within a hundred yards of you! And all is over!” shouted the giant, as he rushed past without drawing rein. “Yes, all is over,” muttered the Free Sword, dropping his face down to the cold face beneath him. “Up and away! We are dead beat!” shouted another equestrian whirlwind that rushed past him. “Dead beat!” echoed the Free Sword, mechanically. Abershaw was the next who came. He hurriedly dashed up, threw himself from his saddle, and led his horse up to his chief, hastily exclaiming: “Colonel Corsoni! For heaven’s sake, fly! There is not a moment to be lost! Rosenthal is a few yards behind! Here! I have brought you a fresh horse! Mount and away! Save yourself!” The Free Sword lifted his despairing eyes to the face of his faithful follower and pointed in silence to the still form in his arms.