The Cavalier, who was, by a desperate effort, holding on to his senses, now dragged himself upright and spoke—
"Since the rebels have the house, ask them not—for charity," he muttered, and then, with the attempt at speech, fainted, and dropped sideways out of the saddle into the arms of one of the Roundheads.
At this sight the lady lost all pride, and, glancing wildly round the ring of steel-clad figures, she clasped her hands in a gesture of appeal.
"May he not be taken into the house?" she stammered. "Oh, good sirs, for pity!"
"A malignant," said the corporal who had caught the Cavalier, pointing to his long locks and rich dress, "and one doubtless drunk with the blood of the saints! Shall I take him to the church, that plague spot of hierarchy, where the other children of Belial lie bound?"
"Nay," replied Cromwell, "take up the young man and bring him into the house."
He looked to the lady and added—
"Madam, what is your name and quality?"
"Sir," she replied, "my lord is Sir William Pawlet, of the House of the Marquis of Winchester, and I am Jane, his wife."