The character of Lord Galmoy had recently gained an unenviable notoriety by his barbarous murder of Cornet Charleton and Captain Dixie at Fermoy, nor were there wanting those who asserted there were still darker stains on his character as a soldier. Such a man, Gervase well knew, would not stretch the laws of war in his favour, and it was more than likely that this savage cavalry-leader would not be disposed to treat him as a lawful enemy taken in battle, but as a rebel and a spy. For such there was a short shrift and a long rope.

When they entered the kitchen, the scene was one of the liveliest disorder and confusion. The room was filled with soldiers attired in every describable costume, some smoking by the fire, some eating and drinking, and all endeavouring to make themselves heard in a perfect babel of tongues. Hats, cloaks, and swords were piled upon the table, at the furthest end of which was seated a small knot of officers, among whom Gervase recognized the little surgeon who had attended to his wound, now busily engaged in discussing the contents of a pewter 45measure. At the head of the table was an officer of superior rank, and near him stood Hackett, with his hands bound behind his back and a great gash on his forehead. He had evidently been under examination, and his replies had not been satisfactory to the officer who was cross-examining him. At a glance Gervase recognized Lord Galmoy. His wig was pushed back, showing the closely-cropped black hair that came low down on the forehead. His eyes were bloodshot and his lips trembled with passion. Yet the face was a handsome one, though marked by the signs of excess and unbridled indulgence; a face weak in its almost feminine regularity, with delicately marked eyebrows, regular nose, and rounded chin; his hands were small and white as those of a woman.

As De Laprade made his way through the troopers who turned to stare at his companion, Galmoy said to the men who were in charge of Hackett, “Do not remove him. I may have further questions to put to him. And now for this young cock who crowed loud enough to bring the barn down about our ears; I think we shall soon cut his spurs. How say you, Vicomte?”

“I am under obligations to the gentleman, my Lord,” said De Laprade, “I trust your Lordship will not deal too harshly with him.”

“Why, damme, we shall all be under obligations presently, but we shall see. And now, sir, what is your name?”

Gervase caught the eye of the Vicomte fixed on 46him with a look of warning. “My name is Orme,” he said, feeling weak and faint with the loss of blood and the great heat of the atmosphere.

“And your rank?”

“A private gentleman, now serving with other gentlemen of the North in defence of our liberties.”

“And, prithee, who gave the gentlemen of the North commission to raise regiments or levy war on His Majesty′s subjects? Do you know, sir, that being found with arms in your hand without lawful authority to carry them, ′tis my duty to string you up as a warning to other malcontents. His Majesty has shown too much long-suffering, and had he been wise we had stamped out this cursed rebellion in a month. There is one King in Ireland, and with the help of God and His holy saints one King there will be. You shall drink his health, and that, damme, in a bumper.”

“That, with your Lordship′s pardon, I shall not do,” said Gervase, disregarding De Laprade′s gesture of warning. “I have taken the oath of allegiance to William and Mary, and to do what your Lordship asks would be an act either of disloyalty or hypocrisy.”

“We shall see,” Galmoy answered, with a smile that was full of meaning. “Fill up a cup, Whitney, for no one shall say that we did not give this damned rebel a chance. And now, sir, whither and on what errand were you away when we interrupted your journey?”

“Our destination was Enniskillen, but for our errand, from answering on that matter I pray your 47Lordship to hold me excused. My knowledge of our real purpose was but slight and would advantage you little.”

“And do you refuse to answer a plain question, sir?”

“I have given your Lordship my answer.”

Galmoy pushed his chair back from the table and his face grew purple with passion. Then he turned to the officers who were sitting round him, bringing his hand heavily down on the table. “God′s blood, gentlemen, what think you of that? I have been blamed by those who should know better, for the practice of a little just severity, and His Majesty would pet and pamper these rebels and treat them as faithful subjects who had been led astray. And here you have the issue. Every peasant and scurvy citizen struts about with armour on his back and a weapon in his hand, as if by the grace of God he had divine right to use the same. These are airs that will find no countenance while I am master of ceremonies.”

“This young gentleman should know better,” said one of the officers with a sneer, “for if I mistake not I have seen him before. Pray, sir, have we not met in Dublin when you were of Mountjoy′s regiment?”

“You can do what you please,” said Gervase, forgetting the caution he had promised himself to observe; “I am in your hands, but I will answer no questions; and if it be your good pleasure to murder me, on your heads is the infamy.”

48“We will answer for ourselves whatever we do,” Galmoy answered. “But remember, the toast is waiting, and no man in my presence will refuse to drink to the health of His Majesty.”

“I will not drink it, and no man living will force me. I have already given you my reasons.”

“In good time,” said Galmoy, “we shall see. How say you, Major? Do you recognize this stiff-necked Whig as being lately in the service of His Majesty?”

“On that head,” was the answer, “I have no doubt. He was lodged at the Bunch of Grapes hard by the Castle, and though we were not intimate, I have seen him too frequently to be mistaken.”

“Then, by Heaven, the cup of his transgression is full and the provost-marshal must see that he drinks it. I will take the matter on my own shoulders and answer for it to whomsoever may question me. Look you, sergeant, take the prisoner without, and see that he drinks that measure of wine. A lighted match, if properly applied, will bring him to reason. In the morning you will see that he is shot before the door an hour before we march, for I do not like these things arranged hurriedly. For the other ′twere a pity he should not bear him company. Let them both go together.”

Weakened as he was by the loss of blood, and unstrung by the ordeal he had just passed through, Gervase tottered and fell on the bench beside which he had been standing. The room swam round him, and though he strove against it he felt that his 49senses were rapidly failing him. He would have fallen upon the floor, but De Laprade springing forward and placing his arm round him, supported him on the seat.

Then the Vicomte turned to Galmoy. “I have said nothing, my Lord, because I did not wish to interfere, as I thought your Lordship would have treated this gentleman as a fair prisoner of war. It is now my duty to speak; I trust your Lordship will hear me.”

Galmoy had now recovered his temper and answered De Laprade with a show of courtesy. “Certainly, my dear Vicomte, there is no one to whom I listen with greater pleasure. But I trust you will not ask me to alter this little arrangement.”

“You will pardon me; I have told you that I am under an obligation to this gentleman, and but for that obligation I should have been lying beside Luttrel on the high-road. I always endeavour to pay my debts of honour, and if need be I borrow from my friends to discharge them.”

“Faith! my creditors will tell you that I find it hard enough to discharge my own.”

“When the fight was over, the captain who has escaped showed a great mind to pistol me, when this Monsieur Orme, at great peril to his life, for I apprehended a pretty quarrel, stepped between us and compelled him to forbear. To him I owe my life, and I should be wanting in gratitude if I failed to avow the service he has done me.”

“There is not a traitor or a rebel in the country 50who has not a loyal subject to plead for him. God′s wounds! Viscount, you forget that he first attacked you on the high road, and that he has worn the uniform of His Majesty, whom Heaven preserve.”

“But, my Lord, I do not forget. These rebels have not saved my life and I do not intercede for them. I have lent my sword and service to the King of England, but I do not forget that I am a gentleman and a man of honour. In France we do not put our prisoners to the torture, nor will I fight in the company of those who do. Rather would I break my sword across my knees and disown the name I bear.”

“The Vicomte de Laprade is right, my Lord,” said the officer who had recognized Gervase. “Gratitude is a most estimable virtue, and exceedingly rare. In return for his services perhaps your Lordship will pretermit the young gentleman′s drinking the health, and merely give him his dry quietus in the morning.”

“With you, sir,” said De Laprade coldly, “I have no dealings now nor at any future time. I ask you, my Lord, for this gentleman′s life. ′Tis the only return I am likely to receive, and indeed it is all I ask.”

“I regret, my dear Vicomte, that I am unable to do your will in this matter, but we must hold out a warning to others. However, as Butler has suggested, he need not dance to-night. Sergeant, you need not apply the thumbscrew. And for you, sir, you can make up your mind to set the example 51you hinted at. As it is, you may thank Viscount de Laprade that you have escaped a dram that was like to prove bitter enough, but had I had my own way, you should have had both the dram and the halter for a renegade deserter.”

“Am I then, my Lord Galmoy, to understand that you refuse to accede to my request? and that the gentleman in whom your Lordship sees I am so deeply interested must die in the morning?”

Galmoy nodded and motioned to the officer who sat nearest him to pass the wine.

“I know not,” De Laprade continued, drawing himself up haughtily, “whether it is because my sword and friendship are of so little value and are held in so slight esteem, that this simple favour is denied me, or because in this country gentlemen are deaf to the voice of expediency. But I know that the brave Luttrel, and a braver man never drew a sword, met his death because you, sir, have seen good to bring in the executioner where the soldier fails.”

“Bah! we will not quarrel, though I will not answer for my temper should you provoke me further. You do not understand these matters, but for my part I hold it a safe rule to let every country manage its own affairs according to its own customs. Damme, man, this is not the court of Versailles, but the country of Whiggery and pestilent traitors, where every Jack-pudding is up in arms against his king and master. In a few months you will have learned not to be so whimsical.”

52“I trust that I shall never learn to forget that I am a gentleman.”

De Laprade′s manner was so pointed and his tone so full of fine, studied disdain that Galmoy, who could not fail to see that an insult was intended, leapt to his feet and drew his sword. In an instant his example was followed by the Vicomte. But they were not permitted to fight out their quarrel, for several gentlemen threw themselves between them, and succeeded in disarming them both; not, however, without difficulty in the case of Galmoy, who seemed almost to have been deprived of his reason in the excess of his passion. In vain they endeavoured to assure him that no insult had been intended, and that he had misinterpreted the Vicomte′s words, while the Vicomte himself stood looking on with a smile playing round his lips, cool and unconcerned as was his wont.

In the midst of the confusion Gervase was removed from the room into the open air. His guards permitted him to sit down on the stone drinking-trough outside the door, while one of them went to prepare a place in which he might pass the night securely. Bending down till his forehead touched his knees, he endeavoured vainly to collect his thoughts and to realize what had happened, for his mind was still confused and weak. He knew that he was about to die, but it seemed to him at that moment as if it were another and not himself who had taken part in the drama that had just concluded. For himself, he was drifting blindly among shadows that grew 53thicker and darker as he sought to dispel them. The voices he had heard were still ringing in his ears; the faces he had seen were still coming and going. Then he heard the voice of Hackett and looked up. The old sergeant was standing beside him with his hands still bound behind his back, and his grey hair hanging, matted and stained with blood, about his face.

“Be of good cheer, Mr. Orme, it will soon be over, sir,” he said, with homely dignity. “I am proud to think that you bore yourself bravely, and showed them that a gentleman and a Christian does not fear death. I should have liked, if it had so pleased the Almighty, to have died on the field of battle, but since ′tis His will, then His will be done. It is not for us to complain or dispute the great decrees. I will see you in the morning, sir,” he added, as his guards prepared to lead him away, “and it may hap that we shall enter the Kingdom together.”

Gervase was conducted to a low outhouse where a quantity of fresh straw had been spread for him, and one of the troopers, with rough goodnature, threw a horse cloth over his shoulders, for the night had grown chilly and he was shivering with cold. Then they withdrew, locking the door behind them, and left him to await the arrival of the provost-marshal in the morning.