But stranger than this, or than my lady’s continued avoidance of me, was the lack of a visit from Richard Jennifer.  Knowing well my dear lad’s loyalty to the patriot cause, I could only conjecture that he had finally broken Margery’s enforced truce to go and join Mr. Rutherford’s militia, which, as Darius told me, was rallying to attack a Tory stronghold at Ramsour’s Mill.

With this surmise I was striving to content myself on that evening of the third day, when Mistress Margery burst in upon me, bright-eyed and with her cheeks aflame.

“Captain Ireton, I will know the true cause of this quarrel which, failing in yourself, you pass on to Richard Jennifer!” she cried.  “Was it not enough that you should get yourself half slain, without sending this headstrong boy to his death?”

Now in all my surmisings I had not thought of this, and truly if she had sought far and wide for a whip to scourge me with she could have found no thong to cut so deep.

“God help me!” I groaned.  “Has this fiend incarnate killed my poor lad?”

“No, he is not dead,” she confessed, relenting a little.  “But he has the baronet’s bullet through his sword-arm for the sake of your over-seas disagreement with Sir Francis.”

I could not tell her that though my quarrel with this villain was but the avenging of poor Dick Coverdale’s wrongs, Richard Jennifer’s was for the baronet’s affront to her.  So I bore the blame in silence, glad enough to be assured that my dear lad was only wounded.

“Why don’t you speak, sir?” she snapped, flying out at me in a passion for my lack of words.

“What should I say?  I have not forgot that once you called me ungenerous.”

“You should defend yourself, if you can.  And you should ask my pardon for calling my father’s guest hard names.”

“The last I will do right heartily.  ’Twas but the simple truth, but it was ill-spoken in your presence, Mistress Stair.”

At this she laughed merrily; and in all my world-wanderings I had never heard a sound so gladsome as this sweet laugh of hers when she would be on the forgiving hand.

“Surely any one would know you are a soldier, Captain Ireton.  No other could make an apology and renew the offense so innocently in the same breath.”  Then her mood changed again in the dropping of an eyelid, and she sighed and said:  “Poor Dick!”

As ever when she was with me, my eyes were devouring her; and at the sigh and the trembling of the sweet lips in sympathy I found that curious love-madness coming upon me again.  Then I saw that I must straightway dig some chasm impassable between this woman and me, as I should hope to be loyal to my friend.  So I said:  “He loves you well, Mistress Margery.”

She glanced up quickly with a smile which might have been mocking or loving; I could not tell which it was.

“Did he make you his deputy to tell me so, Captain Ireton?”