“The rebel member for Cambridge,” she sneered—“the mutinous brewer. Are you a vassal of the man of beer?”
There was a quiet note of protest in the reply of the envoy.
“Colonel Cromwell is not a brewer, though he would be no worse a man if he were. I am honored in his friendship, in his service. He is a great man and a great Englishman.”
“And what,” Brilliana asked, “has this great man to do with Harby that he sends you here?”
“He sends me here,” the Puritan answered, “to haul down your flag.”
“That you shall never do,” Brilliana answered, steadily, “while there is a living soul in Harby.”
The Puritan protested with appealing hands.
“You are in the last straits for lack of food, for lack of fuel, for lack of powder.”
Brilliana made a passionate gesture of denial.
“You are as ignorant as insolent,” she asserted. “Loyalty House lacks neither provisions nor munitions of war.”