“Sir George,” I said, “you will go, of course.  I shall remain and take the chance of exchange.”

“Pardon,” he said, coolly; “I remain here and pay the piper for the tune I danced to.  You will relieve me of my obligations by going,” he added, stiffly.

“No,” I said; “I tell you I don’t care.  Can’t you understand that a man may not care?”

“I understand,” he replied, staring at me; “and I am that man, Ormond.  Come, get into your saddle.  Good-bye.  It is all right; it is perfectly just, and—­it doesn’t matter.”

A shrill voice broke out across the cleared circle.  “Billy Bones!  Billy Bones!  Hae ye no flints f’r the lads that ride?  Losh, mon, we’ll no be ganging north the day, an’ ye bide droolin’ there wi’ the blitherin’ Jacobites!”

“The flints are in McBarron’s wagon!  Wait, wait, Francy McCraw!” And he hurried away, bawling for the teamster McBarron.

“Sir George,” I said, “take the chance, in Heaven’s name, for I shall not go.  Don’t dispute; don’t stand there!  Man, man, don’t delay, I tell you, or they’ll change their plan!”

“I won’t go,” he said, sharply.  “Ormond, am I a contemptible poltroon that I should leave you here to endure the consequences of my own negligence?  Do you think I could accept life at that price?”

“I tell you to go!” I said, harshly.  A horrid hope, a terrible and unworthy temptation, had seized me like a thing from hell.  I trembled; sweat broke out on me, and I set my teeth, striving to think as the woman I had lost would have had me think.  “Quick!” I muttered, “don’t wait, don’t delay; don’t talk to me, I tell you!  Go!  Go!  Get out of my sight—­”

And all the time, pounding in my brain, the pulse beat out a shameful thought; and mad temptations swarmed, whispering close to my ringing ears that his death was my only chance, my only possible salvation—­and hers!

“Go!” I stammered, pushing him towards the horse; “get into your saddle!  Quick, I tell you—­I—­I can’t endure this!  I am not made to endure everything, I tell you!  Can’t you have a little mercy on me and leave me?”

“I refuse,” he said, sullenly.

“You refuse!” I stammered, beside myself with the torture I could no longer bear.  “Then stand aside!  I’ll go—­I’ll go if it costs me—­No!  No!  I can’t; I can’t, I tell you; it costs too much!...  Damn you, you may have the woman I love, but you shall leave me her respect!”

“Ormond!  Ormond!” he cried, in sorrowful amazement; but I was clean out of my head now, and I closed with him, dragging him towards the horse.

He shook himself free, glaring at me.

“I am ... your superior ... officer!” I panted, advancing on him; “I order you to go!”

He looked me narrowly in the eyes.  “And I refuse obedience,” he said, hoarsely.  “You are out of your mind!”

“Then, by God!” I shrieked, “I’ll force you!”

Billy Bones, Francy McCraw, and a Seneca came hastening up.  I leaped on McCraw and dealt him a blow full in his bony face, splitting the lean cheek open.