“He is where every true and loyal gentleman should be,” she cried boldly—“in Ireland, fighting for his rightful sovereign, King James!”
I heard a low gasp escape the troopers behind me. It might have been astonishment or of admiration at her boldness.
“You are frank, madam,” I replied, “and permit me to say it—somewhat indiscreet. But again I beg you to believe that the duty which thus forces me into your presence was as unsought by me as it is distasteful.”
“I do not believe you,” she said proudly. “And you may spare me your apologies, sir! There is never wanting an instrument base enough to execute any deed of injustice!”
Her words stung me.
“Very well, madam,” I replied; “then there is nothing further to be said. M. de Launay,” I continued, “I must trouble you for your sword. I regret that my leniency will not so far permit me to allow you to retain it, but give me your parole that you will attempt no escape upon the road and you shall ride with all freedom. Also,” I added, “I should recommend you to bring your cloak, monsieur. The weather is inclement.”
“But pardon, M. Cassilis,” he broke out, as a sudden gust of wind shook the casements and sent the raindrops rattling on the glass, “you do not mean to ride to Exeter on such a night as this!”
“By no means,” I answered. “But there is a good inn here, I am told. We shall be there to-night, monsieur, and start at daybreak.”
“In that case,” my lady cried, “he shall stay here to-night.”
“That is as I choose, madam,” I answered coldly, “and I do not choose.”