“What ho! Well, ’tis many a stolen kiss a soldier has, and mine had been purloined favors, though I knew it not. Why, then, should I give her up? She loved me, even her husband admitted that. And why had not I, whom she loved, a better right, to her than he whom she loved not? With some there would have been but one answer to this. A clash of steel, and, right or wrong, he who loved and won, would have her whom he fought for. Why not I? What if she was his wife?
“Should love recognize limitations of earthly honor? Why not cast honor as men saw it to the winds? With Sir George out of the way I would have naught to fear from his warrant, and his wife--bah! the words went bitter in my mouth--his wife could then be mine. I had no doubt that in a combat with him I could be the victor. We had quarreled, I had struck him. If he was a man he must fight after that. Then a meeting early in the morning, a clash of swords, a lunge, a feint, a trick I knew well, having had it from a master of the art, and that would be the end. The end of all save my happiness with Lucille.
“No!”
I spoke the word aloud. I had not sunk so low as that. It would be sad indeed if love gave such license. There was but one way out of the matter. If I stayed in Salem I must fight Sir George, and all would say that I had slain him that I might take his wife.
Love would be sweet, with Lucille to share it with me, but not love with dishonor. Therefore I must go.
Heigh-ho! This, then, was an end to all my dreams. Nothing left to battle for save life, and that was scarce worth the struggle. I tried to banish the memory of Lucille from me, but I could not. Her whisper that she loved me sounded in my ears loud above the din of the fights I had passed through. One right I had still. To love her in secret, to know that she loved me, and, knowing that, to let it be the end.
It was night now. There came a knock on my door, and Willis entered.
“What, not gone?” he asked. “Why, I thought you were in haste to be away.”
“So I was,” I answered, with a short laugh, “but I have changed my mind now. Much haste oft means a slow journey. I’ll stay here with you. Let us have some wine up, Master Willis. ’Tis so long since I have tasted any that my throat has forgot the flavor. Bring plenty, for when a man has been to the wars there is need of some cheer on his return, even though he comes conquered instead of a conqueror.”
He brought the wine, and we drank together, I not so much that I wanted the drink, but companionship.