Prompt and decided came his words. The soldier had no questionings concerning the justice of the cause in which he had fought.
Audrey interrupted him hastily. "Oh, silence, sir! Why say such dangerous words?"
"Because, madam, dangerous words befit a dangerous man," he answered more gently. "And"—smiling sadly at his own excitement—"and there are many that will tell you I am a dangerous man."
"No, no; I am sure you are no evil doer, and, I am sure you can if you list, keep silence from such wild words."
"Ay, madam, 'tis easier to keep silence than to testify; and I would not willingly vex you, but I desire that you should know me in my true colours.
"I am not like to mistake the colours of Master Harrison—or Captain Harrison, is it not?" answered the girl; "and whatever differences did latterly divide us in mind, though not in love, from General Harrison, you must needs know we were all for the Parliament here—my grandfather, my father, and I; that is how I came to guess you for one in hiding from the king's men; but for your own sake I would have you careful, lest even walls should have ears."
"It is but too true," he answered. "I am no fit company for quiet folks and dainty maidens; but," he added rising, "it hath been a cordial to see the face of a friend, and the memory of it will abide long with me." And as he spoke, the sudden life that had flashed into his eyes, seemed to flicker and go out like a candle, the soldier was changed back into a dull and spiritless wayfarer.
Her face changed as quickly, the pained and alarmed look vanished.
"No, no," she cried merrily, stepping before the door. "No, no, Captain Harrison; you have betrayed yourself, and now you are my prisoner. You do not depart hence till you have my leave! Sit down!" she added peremptorily. "I am going to prepare supper, and you are in my way; and afterwards you must confess to me whither you are bound, and what are your plans for escape, if escape you must."
The charming masterfulness of her manner, the toss of her proud little head, might have quickened duller pulses than those of Richard Harrison. It was so sweet to him to be commanded, to meet this glowing life and kindliness after the weeks of dull solitude that had almost bereaved him of his wits. For a little while he might delay; let him have just a few moments more in the warmth and brightness; let him keep one fair memory to take out with him into the cold darkness.