She asked, but waited for no answer of mine.  Summoning a black boy to hold the basin of water, she fell to upon the wound-dressing with as little ado as if she had been a surgeon’s apprentice on a battle-field, and I a bloodless ancient too old to thrill at the touch of a woman’s hands.

“Dear heart! ’tis a monstrous ugly hurt,” she declared, replacing the wrappings with deft fingers.  “How came you to go about picking a quarrel with Sir Francis?”

“’Twas not of my seeking,” I returned, and then I could have cursed my foolish tongue.

“Is that generous, Captain Ireton?  We hear something of the talk of the town, and that says—­”

“That says I struck him without sufficient cause.  I am content to let it stand so.”

“Nay, but you should not be content.  Is there not strife enough in this unhappy land without these causeless bickerings?”

Here was my lady turned preacher all in a breath and I with no words to answer her.  But I could not let it go thus.

“I knew Sir Francis Falconnet in England,” said I, hoping by this to turn her safe aside.

“Ah; then there was a cause.  Tell it me.”

“Nay, that I may not.”

Though she was hurting me sorely in the wound-dressing, and knew it, she laughed.

“’Tis most ungallant to deny a lady, sir.  But I shall know without the telling; ’twas about a woman.  Tell me, Captain Ireton, is she fair?”

Seeing that her mood had changed again, I tried to give her quip for jest; but what with the pain of the sword-thrust and the sweet agony of her touches I could only set my teeth against a groan.  She went on drawing the bandagings, little heedful how she racked me, I thought; and yet when all was done she stood beside me all of a tremble, as any tender-hearted woman might.

“There,” she said; “’tis over for a time, and I make no doubt you are glad enough.  Now you have nothing to do save to lie quiet till it heals.”

“And how long will that be, think you?”

“We shall see; a long time, I hope.  You shall be punished properly for your hot temper, I promise you, Captain Ireton.”

With that she left me and went to stand in the window-bay; and from lying mouse-still and watching her over-steadily I fell asleep again.  When I awoke the day was in its gloaming and she was gone.

After this I saw her no more for six full circlings of the clock-hands, and grew fair famished for a sight of her sweet face.  But to atone, she, or some messenger of Richard Jennifer’s, brought me my faithful Darius, and he it was who fetched me my food and drink and dressed my wound.  From him I gleaned that the master of Appleby Hundred had returned from Queensborough, and that there were officers in red coats continually going back and forth, always with a hearty welcome from Gilbert Stair.

Now, though the master of my stolen heritage had little cause to love me, I thought he had still less to fear me; so it seemed passing strange that he came not once to my bedchamber to pass the time of day with his unbidden guest, or to ask how he fared.  But in this, as in many other things, I reckoned without my enemy, though I might have known that Sir Francis would be oftenest among the red-coated officers coming and going.