“Well, well,” the major replied, stroking his chin perplexedly, “seeing that it may be for the—eh, lieutenant?”
“Precisely,” the latter answered.
“Under the circumstances then, my lord,” he continued, “the favour is granted. And now—at your service, madam!”
He bowed as he spoke to Mistress Grace and together they followed her from the room.
And my lady and I were at length alone. No sooner had the last sound of their spurred heels died away across the hall than the pride which had hitherto sustained her seemed to vanish. She came quickly towards me, and I saw that she was strangely moved, and that her limbs were trembling.
“What is this, sir?” she cried in a voice that thrilled with suppressed emotion. “What is this that you have done? My brother was in your power, and yet you are here!—And in his dress—I do not understand.”
“Nor have I time to explain, madam,” I answered gravely. “Your brother is safe, and the vessel that is bearing him to France should by this time have cleared the harbour. Once there, he will no doubt be doubly welcome to James in his exile. As for these clothes,” I continued humbly, glancing down at the glittering orders upon my breast, “I crave your pardon that I must wear them yet a little longer. Do not misjudge me, madam, when you know the truth. Believe only that there was no other way.”
“I think that we have always misjudged you, sir,” she answered in a trembling voice. “I think that we never understood—never tried to understand—until now!” She moved as she spoke so as to command a view of the open doorway. Then on a sudden she turned swiftly towards me. “They do not look this way,” she cried in an eager voice. “Come, sir, come—I will be your guide—follow me and you may yet evade them!” And hastening to the nearest window, she drew aside the heavy curtains, only to drop them again with a little despairing cry. But not before I had seen.
Outside, upon the terrace, motionless as a statue, stood a blue-coated trooper. The moonlight shone upon the barrel of his short musketoon.
“You see, madam,” I said quietly—I had not moved from my place—“it is impossible.” And I gazed at her in a kind of wonder. Had it been another I could have sworn that she was anxious. “Even had it been otherwise, my lady,” I continued, “I could not have availed myself of the opportunity. For my honour now has become dear to me, and honour forbids that I should break my parole to these men. Yet it is sweet to me also that you should care for my safety.”