Brereton leaned down and kissed Mobray on the cheek, as he whispered, “I will.”

“Is—­is Miss Meredith here, Charlie?” asked the dying baronet.

“Yes, Sir Frederick,” replied Janice, with a choke.

“I—­I—­I fear I am a ghastly object,” he went on, “but could you bring yourself—­Am I too horrible for one kiss of farewell from you?  Charlie will not grudge it to me.”

The girl knelt beside Brereton, and stooping tenderly kissed the dying man on the same spot that Jack had kissed.  Mobray’s left hand feebly took hers, and, consciously or unconsciously, brought the one which still held Jack’s to it.  Holding the two hands within his own so that they touched, he said chokingly:—­

“Heaven bless you, and try to forgive him.  Good-by both.  I have served my term, and at last am released from the bigger jail.”  A little shudder, a twitch, and he was dead.

For a minute the two remained kneeling, then Brereton said sadly:—­

“He was the only friend left me in the world, and I know not why he is taken and I am left.”  He withdrew his hand from contact with the girl’s, and rose.  “I cannot stay, for my mission is not to be slighted, but I will speak to O’Hara, and see that he gets a funeral befitting his rank.”  Brereton squared his shoulders and raised his voice, to say:  “Lord Chewton, I am—­”

With a quick motion, the girl rose to her feet and said:  “I have no right to detain you, Colonel Brereton, but—­but I want you to know that neither dadda nor I knew the truth concerning Mrs. Loring when we said what we did on that fatal night.  We both thought—­thought—­Your confession to me that once you loved her, and her looking too young to be your mother, led me into a misconception.”

“Then you forgive me?” he cried eagerly.

“For the words you spoke then I do not even blame you, sir.  But what was, can never be again.”

“Ay,” said the officer, bitterly.  “You need not say it.  You cannot scorn me more than I scorn myself.”

Not giving her time to reply, he crossed to where the officer with the bandage stood waiting him, and once again was blindfolded, and led to headquarters.

“This way,” directed General O’Hara, leading him into a room where stood Cornwallis.

“Are you familiar, sir, with the contents of General Washington’s letter?” asked the earl.

“No, my Lord; I was its bearer only because I begged the Marquis de Lafayette to secure me the service.”

“He grants a suspension of hostilities for two hours from the delivery of this, for me to put my proposals in writing.  Did he say aught to you, sir, of the terms he would grant?”

“I am no longer on General Washington’s staff” answered Brereton, “so I know not his expectations.”

“From all I hear of him,” said the general, “he is not a man to use a triumph ungenerously.  He fought bravely under the British standards, and surely will not now seek to bring unnecessary shame on them.”  Seating himself at the table, he wrote a few lines, which he folded and sealed.  “Will you not, use your influence with him to grant us the customary honours, and spare the officers from the disgrace of giving up their side arms?”