er fought, he fought it there, lying supine upon
the ground, his head in her lap.

Had he fought it out with closed eyes, perchance honour and his plighted
word had won the day; but he opened them, and they met Cynthia's.

A while they stayed thus; the hungry glance of his grey eyes peering
into the clear blue depths of hers; and in those depths his soul was
drowned, his honour stifled.

"Cynthia," he cried, "God pity me, I love you!" And he swooned again.

CHAPTER XXVI. TO FRANCE

That cry, which she but half understood, was still ringing in her ears,
when the door was of a sudden flung open, and across the threshold a
very daintily arrayed young gentleman stepped briskly, the expostulating
landlord following close upon his heels.

"I tell thee, lying dog," he cried, "I saw him ride into the yard, and,
'fore George, he shall give me the chance of mending my losses. Be off
to your father, you Devil's natural."

Cynthia looked up in alarm, whereupon that merry blood catching sight of
her, halted in some confusion at what he saw.

"Rat me, madam," he cried, "I did not know--I had not looked to--" He
stopped, and remembering at last his manners he made her a low bow.

"Your servant, madam," said he, "your servant Harry Foster."

She gazed at him, her eyes full of inquiry, but said nothing, whereat
the pretty gentleman plucked awkwardly at his ruffles and wished himself
elsewhere.

"I did not know, madam, that your husband was hurt."

"He is not my husband, sir," she answered, scarce knowing what she said.

"Gadso!" he ejaculated. "Yet you ran away from him?"

Her cheeks grew crimson.

"The door, sir, is behind you."

"So, madam, is that thief the landlord," he made answer, no whit
abashed. "Come hither, you bladder of fat, the gentleman is hurt."

Thus courteously summoned, the landlord shuffled forward, and Mr.
Foster begged Cynthia to allow him with the fellow's aid to see to the
gentleman's wound. Between them they laid Crispin on a couch, and the
town spark went to work with a dexterity little to have been expected
from his flippant exterior. He dressed the wound, which was in the
shoulder and not in itself of a dangerous character, the loss of blood
it being that had brought some gravity to the knight's condition. They
propped his head upon a pillow, and presently he sighed and, opening his
eyes, complained of thirst, and was manifestly surprised at seeing the
coxcomb turned leech.

"I ca