“Not worthy?” she cried. “Nay, it is I who am unworthy—unworthy of your generosity—of the kindness you have shown to me and mine. Ah, Mr. Cassilis, have you nothing else to say to me?—no reproaches to heap upon me?”
I rose slowly to my feet. “Yes, there is one thing that is in my heart to say, my lady, if you will hear.”
She raised her eyes with a look of startled inquiry to mine; then on a sudden a lovely colour suffused her face. Yet she did not say me nay.
“It is this, madam,” I continued in a voice I vainly strove to render steady. “It may be that in a little time I must bid you farewell. Ere that time comes I would have you know that you have awakened within me that which had long been forgotten—that which I had all but lost. My life—the life of the sword—wandering from land to land, every man’s servant, homeless, hopeless, has not been such that it should inspire pity in others—or regret to me. Yet until I met you I was well content to lead this life, to ruffle it with men whose daily life you, being a woman, therefore infinitely pure, could little understand—still less forgive. But now all this is changed. For you—you have restored in me the honour that as a gentleman was mine by birth; and though well I know a gulf impassable divides our lives, yet for your sake I would willingly face death itself to save you pain. In that prison to which I go—believe only in the years to come that, rough soldier though I am, my fondest prayers were for your future happiness. I may not say more—I dare not trust myself to say more. I have done. God grant that this may be the only sorrow that shall cloud your life!”
“Oh,” she cried, rising to her feet with a shuddering sob, “I cannot bear it! I cannot bear it!” She raised her hands to her throat, struggling with her emotion. “I——”
There came the hoarse challenge of a sentry from without, followed by an immediate bustle in the hall as the troopers hastily assumed their arms. I crossed quickly to a small side window, and glancing out saw a party of three horsemen advancing up the avenue. Then I turned again to my lady. She had not moved from her position in the middle of the room. Motionless as a statue she stood, her hands pressed to her bosom, her eyes wide with sudden fear fixed upon the open door. At that instant the lieutenant appeared upon the threshold.
“Verdom!” he cried excitedly, buckling on his sword and brushing some stray crumbs from off his coat. “It is he! It is the general himself!”
“The general?” I stammered.
“No less,” he answered. “Who would have expected his appearance?”
He drew himself stiffly to attention as the sound of spurred heels rang out from the hall, and a moment later three men entered the room.