“Help this gentleman into the east parlor,” said Elizabeth, abruptly, to Cuff.
“Ah!” cried Peyton, his face lighting up with quick gratitude. “Madam, you then make me your guest?” He thrust forward his head, forgetful of his condition.
“My guest?” rang out Elizabeth’s voice in answer. “You insolent rebel, I intend to hand you over to the British!”
There was a brief silence. Each gazed at the other.
“You will not—do that?” said Peyton, in a voice little above a whisper.
“Wait and see!” And she stood regarding him with elation.
He stared at her in blank consternation.
Again, the sound of the trample of many horses.
“Ah!” cried Peyton, joyfully. “My men returning!”