"Why, d'ye see sir, when thinking I'd soon be under marching orders—you then talking o' campaigning again—there's me don't venter to open my mind to her touching matrimony though her a-giving me chances for same constant. To-day here's me—you being settled and wi' no wish for foreign fields—here's me, d'ye see, looking for chances and occasions to speak wedlock and such constant and her giving me no chances what-so-ever. And that's woman, sir!"
They rode at a gentle, ambling pace and with no sound to disturb the brooding night-silence except the creak of their saddles and the thudding of their horses' hoofs dulled and muffled in the dust of the road. A hushed and windless night full of the quivering glamour of stars whose soft effulgence lent to hedge and tree and all things else a vague and solemn beauty; and riding with his gaze uplifted to this heavenly host, the Major thought of Life and Death and many other things, yet mostly of my lady Elizabeth Carlyon, while Sergeant Zebedee, gazing at nothing in particular, dreamed also.
"'Tis as well she should learn nought of the ugly business!" said the Major at last.
"But sir, Mrs. Agatha——"
"I mean her ladyship, Zebedee."
"Aye, aye for sure, sir, for sure!"
"And if there be indeed villainy afoot—if there is, why then egad, Sergeant Zeb, I'll not rest until I know who is at the bottom on't!"
"Aye—who, sir? 'Tis what we're a-going to find out to-night I do hope. And when we do find out, sir—how then?"
"Why then, Zeb—ha, then—we shall see, we shall see!"
After this they rode on in silence awhile, the Major staring up at the glory of the stars again.