f I were a
private soldier. Be good enough to remember that I am not under your
orders. I claim to decide for myself how I shall act."

She was no longer piteous or beseeching; her tears had dried, a flush
of colour had risen to her cheeks, and it was evident that her despair
had given place to very distinct temper.

I was in a rage myself, and sprang to my feet with a sharp exclamation
of disgust.

"Really, Lady Henriette, you will drive me to wash my hands of the
whole business. But I came into it to oblige your sister, and I owe it
to her to do my best without reference to you. I have marked out a
line for myself, and I shall follow it. Unless you are disposed to
change your views, I shall stick to mine; and I do not see the use of
prolonging this interview. I will bid you good day."

I moved towards the door, still keeping an eye on her, believing her
to be quite set in her fatuous refusal to hear reason. She still held
herself erect and defiant, and there seemed to be small hope of doing
anything with her. Then suddenly I saw symptoms of giving way. Signals
of distress were hung out in her quivering lip and the nervous
twitching of her hands. All at once she broke down and cried
passionately:

"No, no, no; you must not leave me--not like that. I cannot bear it; I
am too miserable, too agitated, too terrified. I have no one to lean
on but you. What shall I do? What shall I do?" And she collapsed into
a chair, weeping as if her heart would break.

The situation was awkward, embarrassing. At another time I might have
been puzzled how to deal with it, but this was a moment of supreme
emergency. A great crisis was imminent, the ruin of our scheme and the
downfall of our hopes were certainly at hand if I gave way to her.
Everything depended upon my action, and I knew that the only chance
of safety lay in the execution of my design.

This being so, her tears made no great impression on me. I may be
called a hard-hearted brute, but I really had no great sympathy with
her in her lamentations. It was not an occasion for tears, I felt; and
I must be firm and unwavering, whatever she might think of me. I
counted, at any rate, and with some assurance, on the approval of Lady
Claire if the details of this painful scene should ever come to her
ears.

Nor could I wait till she chose to regain her composure. Time was too
precious to be wasted in any attempts to win her back to common sense,
and without waiting for permis