"No woman, and no man either, would believe it," said Grace calmly, and Mainwaring's face flamed.
"Why, then, I'm content," declared Stark. "As for this red-coated monkey, he's neither one nor t'other and his opinion don't matter."
"Take him to the cachot!" cried the indignant soldier in a fury. "Away with him—insolent hound! We'll see what a few days of bread and water will do for him."
"And 'tis trash like this that they put into power over honest men!" said the prisoner, with great show of scorn. "In America no man can command others until he has learned to command himself."
"And did you use to command, my young hero?" asked Peter, who had now risen to his feet again.
Cecil Stark turned and laughed as he marched off with half a dozen soldiers for an escort.
"No, sir. You'll guess why. I'm a fool. Your nose will tell you that. But I'm learning. I shall be free again some day. Then I'll try to be wise. Meantime I beg you ten thousand pardons that I hit the wrong man. If 'tis ever in my power, I'll make generous amends."
He departed, and among the guard his great stature was revealed, for he towered above them.
"What a stinging sermon against disinterestedness," said Mr. Norcot, still patting his wounded face. "Yet 'tis nothing beside your escape. If you had died—my light would have gone out. Henceforth I should have lived with Petrarch under my pillow: 'To Laura—I mean Gracie—in death.'
"'For I was ever yours; of you bereft,
Full little do I reck all other care.'"