The Crimson Sign: A Narrative of the Adventures of Mr. Gervase Orme, Sometime Lieutenant in Mountjoy's Regiment of Foot — John Shaqi
The Crimson Sign: A Narrative of the Adventures of Mr. Gervase Orme, Sometime Lieutenant in Mountjoy's Regiment of FootKeightley, S. R. (Samuel Robert)
History
The Crimson Sign: A Narrative of the Adventures of Mr. Gervase Orme, Sometime Lieutenant in Mountjoy's Regiment of Foot
Orme lay for a considerable time in a dull stupor, unable to collect his
thoughts, but by degrees his senses came back, and he awoke to the
situation in which he was placed. He believed that it was idle to hope
for mercy; he was in the hands of a man who was not likely to trouble
himself further about his fate. He felt that he must die, and that he
must face death with what courage he could command. He had never thought
much about it before, but now when he stood face to face with death, it
became so real and so terrible that for a time he stood aghast at the
contemplation. He saw with awful vividness the preparations of the
morning, and he thought of the moment when his soul and body would part
company for ever. He was young, and the great mysteries of life and
death had never troubled him. The path of his duty had been simple and
plain; to stand by the truth, to show himself modest and pure and
valorous always, to betray no trust, and to worship God according to the
custom of his fathers--this was his creed and his plan of life;
according to this he had sought to live and die. He had no desire for
the martyr´s death and the martyr´s crown; he loved life and clung to
it, and now all the more when he was in danger of losing it. Men like
Hackett might find consolation and support in religion at a time like
this, but for himself it could not lift him superior to the fear of
suffering and the dread of death. There was, however, some consolation
in the thought that he had striven honestly to do his duty, and that he
had not begged in any unmanly way for life. Then his thoughts took
another turn, and his whole past life unrolled itself before him.
Incidents of his boyhood that he had long forgotten came fresh into his
mind. He saw the stream and the stepping-stones where he had been used
to fish, and the patches of sunshine glinting on the water through the
willows; the old stone house and its tall chimneys lifting themselves
among the oaks and firs; the dark wainscoted room where his father had
taught him from Tacitus and Cæsar; and he longed with a great longing
for life.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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