"Take your pistol, sir!" He took it, turned it over and laughed gently.
"My dear lady," said he, "after your exploits this night I wouldn't forego you for any woman that ever tempted man. Your time shall be my time and my time is—soon, Betty—ah, soon!" And bowing again, he crossed to the open window, stepped out into the dark and was gone. For a moment none moved, then the Sergeant crossed the room and closed the shattered casement.
"Major d'Arcy," said my lady, and now there was a troubled quiver in the clear voice, "upon a night not long ago you made me a promise—nay, swore me an oath. Do you remember?" The Major was silent. "Sir," she continued, her voice growing more troubled, "you did not give me that oath easily and now—O is it thus you keep all your promises?" The Major made no answer, nor did he stir, nor even lift his head.
"John," she took a quick step toward the rigid figure. "O Jack—you are not hurt——"
"Thank you—I am—very well!" he answered, still without turning, and gripping the sword he still held in rigid fingers. After this there seemed a long silence filled with the rumble of wind in the wide chimney. Then my lady stirred, sighed, and stretched out her hand to Colonel Cleeve.
"O my lord," she said wearily, "prithee take me home." So the Colonel took her hand, drew it through his arm and led her towards the door, but ever as she went she gazed towards the Major's motionless back; reaching the door she paused, but still his head was averted; then she sighed, shivered and, despite her muddy and tattered gown, swept away upon Lord George's arm like a young, disdainful goddess.
The Major drew a quivering breath and his sword clattered upon the floor.
"God above!" exclaimed the Sergeant, clasping strong arms about that rigid form, "the Captain pinked you after all, sir."
"No, Zeb, no—but I fancy I've broke a—couple of ribs or so—as 'twere, d'ye see, Zeb——" And sighing, he fell forward with his head pillowed upon the Sergeant's shoulder.