Even the wounded wretches who were left in the kitchen waited their fate in silence.
Alone in the room, Mercy's first look was directed to the bed.
The two women had met in the confusion of the first skirmish at the close of twilight.

Separated, on their arrival at the cottage, by the duties required of the nurse, they had only met again in the captain's room.

The acquaintance between them had been a short one; and it had given no promise of ripening into friendship.

But the fatal accident had roused Mercy's interest in the stranger.

She took the candle, and approached the corpse of the woman who had been literally killed at her side.
She stood by the bed, looking down in the silence of the night at the stillness of the dead face.
It was a striking face--once seen (in life or in death) not to be forgotten afterward.