"Or shot, or beheaded!" he murmured.
"And you, Major d'Arcy, you are willing to run all these risks and wherefore?" The Major prodded diligently at a patch of moss with his cane, while, chin on hand, she watched him, waiting his answer.
"Need you ask?" he muttered.
"I do ask, sir," said she, her watchful gaze unwavering; and he, conscious of this intent look, flushed, grew uneasy, grew abashed; finally he raised his head and returned her look and in his eyes was that which called imperious to all her womanhood, that before which her own eyes fell though his voice was very tender as he answered:
"My lady you know well 'tis—for you. You know my love is one that counteth not risk, now or—or ever."
At this, my lady having seen and heard all she had desired, bowed shapely head and was silent awhile, staring down at the page before her headed: "Quartern Ague." When at last she spoke her voice quavered oddly and he flinched, believing that she laughed at him again.
"Your coat is more—more threadbare and—woebegone than—ever, John!" Here he sighed, still thinking that she mocked him but, as he turned away, he saw something that fell sparkling upon the page before her, followed by another and another. The Major stood awe-struck.
"My lady!" he exclaimed, "mam——"
"Do—not——" my lady sobbed but stamped her foot at him none the less.
"Madam," he corrected hastily.