bued with a chivalric spirit. When, as
happened too often, he fell under the influence of liquor, the bad in
him promptly came uppermost; but at all other times his better traits
made him a good fellow to meet, genial, polite, generous, and inclined
to recognize the finer sentiments of manliness. To march into his
commander's presence with Alice as his prisoner lacked everything of
agreeing with his taste; yet he had not been willing to give her over
into the hands of the patrol. If his regard for military obligation had
not been exceptionally strong, even for an English soldier, he would
have given way to the temptation of taking her to some place of hiding
and safety, instead of brutally subjecting her to Hamilton's harsh
judgment. He anticipated a trying experience for her on account of this
new transgression.

They hastened along until a lantern in the fort shot a hazy gleam upon
them.

"Stop a moment, Mademoiselle," Farnsworth called. "I say, Miss
Roussillon, stop a moment, please."

Alice halted and turned facing him so short and so suddenly that the
rapier in his hand pricked through her wraps and slightly scratched her
arm.

"What do you mean, sir?" she demanded, thinking that he had thrust
purposely. "Do I deserve this brutality?"

"You mistake me, Miss Roussillon. I cannot be brutal to you now. Do not
fear me; I only had a word to say."

"Oh, you deem it very polite and gentle to jab me with your sword, do
you? If I had one in my hand you would not dare try such a thing, and
you know it very well."

He was amazed, not knowing that the sword-point had touched her. He
could not see her face, but there was a flash in her voice that
startled him with its indignant contempt and resentment.

"What are you saying, Miss Roussillon? I don't understand you. When did
I ever--when did I jab you with my sword? I never thought of such a
thing."

"This moment, sir, you did, and you know you did. My arm is bleeding
now."

She spoke rapidly in French; but he caught her meaning, and for the
first became aware of the rapier in his hand. Even then its point was
toward her and very near her breast. He lowered it instantly while the
truth rushed into his mind.

"Forgive me," he murmured, his words barely audible in the tumult of
wind and rain, but charged with the intensest feeling.

"Forgive me; I did not know--it was an accident--I could not do such a
thing purposely. Believe me, believe me, Miss Roussillon. I di