At this unexpected announcement, imprecations and murmurs of incredulity were heard on all sides.
“Woman, would you shield your husband’s murderer?” exclaimed an over-zealous barn-burner.
“Shield him!” she retorted, as if aroused from a trance. “No, no! I’m not here for that! But this is not the patroon. His every feature is burned into my heart! I tell you it is not he. Yet he should be here. Did I not see him driving toward the manor?” And she gazed wildly around.
For a moment, following this impassioned outburst, their rough glances sought one another’s, and the soldier quickly took advantage of this cessation of hostilities.
“No; I am not the land baron,” he interposed.
“You aren’t?” growled a disappointed lease-holder. “Then who the devil are you? An anti-renter?” he added, suspiciously.
“He must be an enemy of the land baron,” interrupted the woman, passing her hand across her brow. “He was with us in the grove. I saw him ride up and took him to be a barn-burner. He crossed the meadow with us. I saw his face; distinctly as I see it now! He asked me about the patroon––yes, I remember now!––and what was she like, the woman who was with him!”
“I am no friend of his,” continued the soldier in a firm voice. “You had one purpose in seeking him; I, another! He carried off this lady. I was following him, when I met you in the grove.”
“Then how came you here––in this room?”