"I see none now," rejoined the other. "Methinks, Coz, that you have received confirmation of what I told you."
"Yes. I have. Unless I leave the country to-day I shall be a prisoner ere nightfall."
"And Rose Marie, beyond all that we have made her suffer already, will be left to mourn for you. To torture a woman then leave her desolate! Nay, man, the shame of that were worse than a traitor's death."
"When shall I see her?"
"Anon, I think. Master Legros is on his way to you."
"Then I'll to France to-day, taking my wife with me," said Rupert resolutely, "and may God guard you, Cousin."
"Nay, we'll not ask Him to do that just now," rejoined the other with the same quaint smile; "rather may He protect her, and give her happiness. We both owe her that, methinks."
Thus was the compact sealed. It had of course been a foregone conclusion all along, and Michael had never for a moment anticipated that his cousin would refuse the sacrifice.
The great game begun a year ago across the supper table of a tavern and in the midst of a drunken orgy, ended here and now. Both the gamblers lost all that they had staked. One was losing his self-respect, the woman he loved with a capricious passion, the freedom which he had coveted; the other was throwing away his all so that a fair-haired girl, the cold ice-maid who had no love for him, should still be the only winner in the end.