He could no longer remain in the army; the dictates of his own heart; the promptings of his affection triumphed and in an evil hour he deserted and returned home to find her tale, alas! too true.

He was arrested, courtmartialed and _shot_.

He had forfeited his life by his desertion and bore his fate manfully; his only fear being for the future welfare of that wife and her children for whom he had lost his life.

When he fell, pierced by the bullets of his comrades, was there not a murder committed?
There was, but not by the men who sentenced him to death.

They but performed duty, and, we are charitable enough to suppose, performed it with regret.