“Yes, and I have the pass to bring me there. Do you dispute it?”
“No.”
“I am glad of that, for you would come into collision with Oliver Cromwell if you did. Now give me your aid toward firearms.”
The officer turned with him and walked down the street, beat at the door of the gunshop, and saw the desires of the stranger fulfilled. Then he accompanied him to the door of the inn, bidding him good-night, and disappearing down the unlighted street.
The young lady was partaking of the repast prepared for her in the private parlour set aside for her use, said the landlord in answer to his guest’s inquiry. On being shown to the door Armstrong knocked on the panels, and was admitted by old John, who was in attendance.
The girl sat at a table and looked up with surprise, not recognizing her visitor in his new finery, thinking some stranger had mistaken the room; but, seeing who it was as he advanced, she turned her gaze away from him and gave no greeting. If he came to apologize now, it was too late, she said to herself, and his first words showed that this was indeed his purpose.
“Madam,” he said with a courtly inclination of his head, which obeisance, it flashed across the girl’s mind, had been purchased with his fresh accoutering, a thought that almost brought a smile to her lips, which she hoped to keep firm. “Madam, I crave your pardon for my unseemliness of temper to-day. I am at best an uncouth person, travelling at the head of my own men, who question neither words nor acts of mine, and so have led me into the gruff habit of expecting obedience and not censure. I am no squire of dames, as there is little need to tell you, for already you know it from this day’s experience of my ways; but I am deeply grieved that I fell so far short of the courtesy which is your due, and I trust you will forgive my lapse of manners.”
Here was an apology indeed, that might well have called forth a generous response, and undoubtedly would have done so from a woman of the world; but Frances had been too sorely hurt by his long incivility toward her. Ladies in the romances she had read were always treated with the utmost chivalry, and, if truth must be told, she was tired and cross, so she hardened her heart, bent her proud eyes on the latticed window before her, and made no reply.
There was a few moments’ silence in the room; then her punishment came in his next words.
“I had hoped we might part good friends.”