He bowed with great humility.
"I would not receive this from any other. But"—and her lip curled proudly as she spoke. "Here seems a slight mistake in the wording of your message. They should rather have written cruelty and not mercy!"
"Nay, my lady," he replied, "the mercy of parliament. Trust me, you will not be evil entreated at their hands."
"The mercies of the wicked are cruel," said she, quickly, but with great composure. "Not that I mean," she continued, "a wicked parliament, of which body I have an honourable and reverend esteem, but wicked agents and factors, such as Moore and Rigby, who for the advantage of their own interests labour to turn kingdoms into blood and ruin. Besides, 'tis dangerous treating when the sword is given into the enemies' hand."
"Most assuredly, madam, as our tractates on the art of war teach us,—which it seems you have not studied in vain," said Moseley, bowing with an air of great deference and gallantry. "Your ladyship is commander-in-chief, we hear."
"My lord being absent. I am left in trust, and cannot listen to treaties without his permission."
"Not to dishonourable overtures, assuredly. But if we agree to your own conditions,—quitting the house in the way it shall seem best to your ladyship, as was once the basis of your own propositions, I believe, it cannot in this case be a reproach or a breach of trust, but will prevent much damage, and be the saving of many lives."
"I will not treat without my lord's commands, Captain Moseley, and I have listened to you longer than is expedient. It is unjust to myself, and these brave defenders, that I appear in any way doubtful of their ability and courage. For their sakes, and for my own, I must end this parley."
The officer bowed low at this peremptory dismissal, wishing her ladyship's resolutions were less firm or her means more ample.
"