“He is,” I answered, walking to the entrance.
“Your pardon for this interruption,” began the man, “but I came in haste, with a letter for you from His Excellency, Sir William Phips,” and the horseman handed me a sealed missive.
Wonderingly I broke the red wax. In the dim light I read:
“Captain:--The Indian devils are pressing hard and close on our borders. Settlers from outlying hamlets have brought word that they gather in numbers on the North. It is said that de Vilebon, at St. Johns, is urging the red men on, furnishing them food and munitions of war. Could he be driven from his stronghold (mayhap no easy task) much good would be done the Colony. Proceed with your company, in all dispatch. Kill, burn and capture.
“Given under our hand and seal, the seal of His Majesty, the King.
Sir William Phips.”
Here was likely to be a sudden end to my love making, I thought. I turned to Lucille, who had followed me to the door. She had shrunk back into the corner, and in her eyes I could see a strange look of horror and fright, such as I had never seen before.
From Lucille I looked to the horseman. He stood at the very door, one hand holding the bridle. With the other he stroked his moustache, and his eyes never left the face of Lucille. By the light of the candle, glowing out into the darkness, I could see a mocking smile on his lips.
“Lucille!” I cried.
The horseman never heeded my exclamation, nor did he change his gaze.