It needed but a glance to tell Malcolm that the poor creature was mad, distraught by the horrors of the previous day.
A peasant stood by leaning on a stick, mournfully regarding her.

He turned suddenly round with the weapon uplifted at the sound of Malcolm's approach, but lowered it on seeing that the newcomer was a lad.
"I hoped you were a soldier," the peasant said, as he lowered his stick.
"I should like to kill one, and then to be killed myself.

My God, what is life worth living for in this unhappy country?
Three times since the war began has our village been burned, but each time we were warned of the approach of the plunderers, and escaped in time.

Yesterday they came when I was away, and see what they have done;" and he pointed to his wife and child, and to the corpses scattered about.
"It is terrible," Malcolm replied.

"I was taken a prisoner but two days since at the sack of New Brandenburg, but I have managed to escape.