Fergus dismounted at the gate, and walked up to the house. The maid who opened the door recognized him at once.
"Will you come in, sir?" she said, with a beaming face. "I will tell the young countess you are here; and she will, I am sure, see you."
A minute later, the girl ran down the stairs. As she came forward she stopped, with sudden shyness. Absorbed in her anxiety for her father and mother, she had taken but little heed of the appearance of the officer who had saved them. That he was kind as well as brave she was sure for, although he had scarce spoken to her, the gentleness with which he had moved her father and her mother from the bloodstained room, and the promptness and decision with which he had given his orders, had inspired her with absolute confidence in him. She had a vague idea that he was young, but his face, flecked here and there with blood, had left but a faint impression upon her memory; and when she saw the young officer, in his spotless and imposing uniform, she almost felt that there must be some mistake.
"Are you Lieutenant Drummond, sir?" she asked timidly.
"I am, countess."
"Was it really you who saved us, the other night?"
"I had that good fortune," he said with a smile.
She took the hand he held out, wonderingly, and then suddenly burst into tears.
"Oh, sir," she said, "is it possible that you, who look so young, can be the one who came to our assistance, and killed those six evil men? It seems impossible.
"I have been so unhappy, since. I did not know that you were wounded until the maids told me, afterwards. I had never even asked. I let you go, without one word of thanks for all that you have done for us. What must you have thought of me?"