She had passed her arm still further under his neck, and, getting a firm hold with her other hand round the lower part of his body, she raised him up. She staggered beneath the load for a moment, but planting her feet firmly, and drawing a deep breath, she started forward, bearing the almost lifeless body of the man for whom she had risked so much. Her burden called for the utmost physical strength to support; but what will love not do? She struggled along, resting now and again, but never putting down her precious load, never for a moment shifting his position, and trying to avoid the slightest jerk, for she was fearful of the wound bursting out afresh, and she knew that to let that precious life-current flow was to let the life, so dear to her, drift away. Harper was quite unconscious now. His arms hung down powerless. It almost seemed to her that he was already dead; and she grew cold with fear as she thought every moment she would find the beloved form stiffening in her arms. Word-painting would fail to adequately depict the woman’s feelings as she staggered along in the darkness. The welcome lights were before her eyes--would she reach them? Even if the life was not already gone out of the body she bore so tenderly in her arms, a few minutes’ delay might prove fatal. Never did shipwrecked mariner, floating on a solitary plank in the midst of a wild ocean, turn his eyes more eagerly, imploringly, prayerfully, to the distant sail, as she turned hers towards those lights. Her heart throbbed wildly, her brain burned, her muscles quivered with the great exertion; but she would not be conquered. Love was her motive-power; it kept her up, it lent her strength, it braced her nerves. And she would have defended the helpless being in her arms, even as a tigress would defend its wounded young. On--step after step--yard after yard--nearer and nearer the goal. “Who goes there? Stand and answer.” It was the challenge of an outlying English sentry. She uttered a cry of joy, for the man was within a few paces of her. Never did words sound more welcome in human ear than did that challenge to the devoted Haidee. “A friend,” she answered quickly, in English. “Help me!--quick--I bear a wounded officer in my arms.” The man gave vent to an expression of profound surprise as he hurried forward to meet her. In a moment he had raised the alarm. The signal flew from post to post. A few minutes only passed, but it seemed an age. Then she saw a body of men advancing with lanterns. Gently and tenderly they took the insensible form of Harper from Haidee. She walked beside him, or rather staggered, for nature was thoroughly exhausted, and only strength of will kept her up. The guard was passed, and the barrack was reached. Harper was laid upon a mattress on the floor, and two doctors were speedily bending over him; and while one administered a powerful stimulant, the other made a critical examination of the wound.