“And you were very glad to obey,” Brilliana said, bitterly, and again Evander shook his head.
“I was very sorry to obey. But I had no choice. Colonel Cromwell was my father’s friend; he knew the story of my people; he set it upon me as a special seal for righteousness that I should do this thing. ‘Kin shall be set against kin in this strife,’ he said, ‘father against son, and brother against brother. Go forth in the name of the Lord and pluck the banner of Baal from the wall of Harby.’ And I went.”
Brilliana, lifting her head, looked over the green wall of yews to where, in the cool, gray-blue of the October sky, the royal standard fluttered its gaudy folds in the wind. She said nothing, but her smile spoke whole volumes of victories; the panegyrics of a thousand triumphs gleamed in her eyes. Evander read smile and gleam rightly.
“True, I failed,” he admitted. “Yet I may not say that I am sorry, for if I had not failed I should have lost a friend.”
He looked admiringly at her, but Brilliana drew herself up stiffly and regarded him coldly.
“You may be my kinsman without being my friend,” she said, with a sourness which had the effect of making Evander laugh like a boy.
“Why, lady,” he protested, “it is not ten minutes since that you proffered me your friendship.”
“Did I so?” Brilliana asked, puckering her brows as if in doubt, though she had not the least doubt upon the matter.
“Indeed, madam,” said Evander, very earnestly, “friends for a lifetime.” Brilliana snapped contradiction.