Even as she spoke, the door opened and Tiffany ran in.

"My lady!" she cried; "my lady, John Thoroughgood rides up the avenue on a foundering horse!"

Brilliana gave a great cry and went ghost-white.

"Dear G.o.d, the letter! I had forgotten the letter!"

Tiffany slipped from the room. Evander answered Brilliana's cry very calmly.

"For the second, so had I. But, indeed, dear lady and friend, I know its terms."

"You cannot be sure," Brilliana whispered.

"I am sure," Evander replied. "I know Colonel Cromwell."

The door opened again and Thoroughgood entered, splashed with mud and carrying a letter in his hand.

"My lady," said Thoroughgood, "I have ridden hard and long to find the rebels. I have killed two horses; I had to wait on Colonel Cromwell's leisure; I was fired at thrice as I rode. At long last and through many perils here is the letter."

"I thank you," Brilliana said. "You are a faithful servant. Seek wine and food and rest."

Thoroughgood saluted her and went out. He looked f.a.gged to exhaustion. In the pa.s.sage he found Tiffany, kissing-kind. Brilliana opened the letter and read it slowly. Then she gave a cry.

"Pray you read, lady," Evander said, composedly. Brilliana complied in a hard, set voice.

"MADAM,--The prisoner with whom you claim kinship was sentenced to be shot as a spy this morning. My loving greetings to my very dear friend, Mr. Cloud, who, if you chose enough to murder him, will, I know, meet death as a Christian soldier should.

"OLIVER CROMWELL."

"The wicked villain," Brilliana cried.

"Nay, lady," Evander argued tranquilly--he must carry himself well now--"the true captain doing his duty. It hath cost him a pang to sacrifice me; he would have sacrificed his son Henry or his son Richard in the like case."

Brilliana clasped and unclasped her hands.

"I care nothing for his son Henry or his son Richard."

"You care nothing for me?" Evander affirmed, slowly.

"I do care," she said, hotly. "We have broken bread together, played games together, masked at friendship till the sport became reality."

"Lady," said Evander, "I thank you for the kindness you imply. Our friendship has been brief, but pa.s.sing sweet. I shall die on a divine memory."

"Why, sir," she gasped, "you do not think I could kill you now?"

"You vowed I should die if your cousin died," he reminded her. "I think you must keep your word. It is the fortune of war."

"The fortune of war!" Brilliana gave a bitter laugh. "I would not have you die to save--Oh, I must not say--but fly, sir, fly! Ride hot and hard to Cambridge, where you will be safe. You shall have the best horse in my stable. You are my prisoner. I give you back your parole. Only, for G.o.d's sake, go! My friends would kill you if they caught you here."

Evander begged a boon.

"May I kiss your hand before I go?"

Brilliana tried to smile.

"A Cavalier would not have asked."

"I am Puritan, ingrain," he a.s.serted.

"You are a dear gentleman."

She sighed and held out her hand. As he stooped to salute it the door was dashed open and a man booted and spurred flung into the room. As he stood for a moment amazed at what he saw, Brilliana, turning, recognized Sir Rufus Quaryll. She disengaged her hand from Evander's and moved a little towards him. Evander instinctively felt for his sword. Sir Rufus's face was a great blaze of red.

"In the devil's name, what does this mean?" he shouted.

Brilliana drew herself up.

"You forget yourself," she said, haughtily. Rufus barked at her with rage.

"You have forgotten yourself; in the arms of a doomed traitor."

"Civil words, sir!" Evander cried, moving on him. Brilliana motioned him to hold back.

"This gentleman is no traitor."

An open letter lay at Rufus's feet. He pounced on it and read. He was pale now, the white heat of anger.

"Gentleman! Oh, I know much, guess all. Randolph is dead there yonder, and this rogue, who should be dead and ditched here, lives.

Faugh! But he dies now."

On the word he had drawn his sword and advanced upon Evander, whose own sword was no less swiftly out. Brilliana came between the two men.

"If you kill him, you kill me," she said.

"By G.o.d, you deserve to die!" was Rufus's answer.

In the headiness of their brawl none of the party had noticed how the door had opened again and how a man stood at gaze in the doorway. A slender man of middle height, in travel-stained riding-habit of black; a man with a comely, melancholy face and sad eyes; a man who seemed very weary. He wore a jewelled George. For a moment the new-comer stood unheeded, then he advanced into the room. Sir Rufus heard him, turned, and cried, "The King!" Evander sent his sword back into its sheath. Brilliana knelt in reverence. This was the hero, almost the divinity, the monarch she worshipped, the sovereign she had never seen.

"Gentlemen, what is this?" the King asked. He turned to Brilliana.

"Lady, why did you not come to greet me?"

Brilliana rose.

"Your Majesty--" she began, but Rufus interrupted her hotly.

"Forgiveness, sire. I dashed ahead to warn her of the great honor you offered, halting here from Banbury, only to find her s...o...b..ring on a Roundhead gallows-bird."