"Where's your civility, bantling?" said he. "Will ye wet your throat, and never a pious wish for the cause ye follow? Drink it off, come! Heaven speed the Parliament, and down wi' the wicked king!"
Merrylips had raised the can to her mouth. She was too startled to dream of anything, except to obey. But as she heard those last words, she stopped and across the rim stared at the man.
She stopped and across the rim stared at the man.
She had thought that she was going to drink. She feared that Rupert, who spoke so glibly of fighting for the Parliament, might think it like a girl, if she should refuse. But, in that second, while she faced the big musketeer in that dingy taproom, she seemed to stand in her own chamber at Larkland, in the fair days before ever Will Lowry came, and she seemed to hear Lady Sybil speak:—
"I would have thee more than a man, my Merrylips. I would have thee a gentleman."
A gentleman! Surely a gentleman would not deny the cause that he served, no, not even to save his life!
Merrylips breathed fast. She felt the heart leaping in her throat, but she thought of Lady Sybil.