"What have you bastards done!
"
In a flash it came to him: the party of horsemen riding hard from the
west, the soot-marks of their boots upon the threshold. Anger and
hatred overwhelmed him, as before he knew what had happened the pistol
was in his hand, and pointed at the back of his enemy.
But then Stephen turned to face him, and he lowered it again. Because
there were standing tears, and real shame in the Englishman's eyes.
"It's not what you think," he said weakly, head down. "What we did,
was bad enough. But she was dead when we arrived." He put one sleeve
to his eyes. "She left a note, which I gave to Mary, asking her to
forgive..... My father. . .burned her body as a warning, and to
frighten his own men into action. I hate what we've become. I hate
it."
... "I believe you," said Michael slowly. "And I'm sorry."
"Please don't say any more."
The Highlander started to walk away. "No, wait," said Stephen. "I want
you..... I want someone to hear this."
"I'm listening."
Purceville shifted uncomfortably, resisting to the end.
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