know--"

"Yes; I know."

"If they begin ... that ... insult them, taunt them, sneer at them,
laugh at them!--yes, laugh at them! Do anything to enrage them, so
they'll--they'll finish quickly.... Do you understand?"

"Yes," I muttered; and my voice sounded miles away.

He lay brooding for a while; when I opened my eyes he broke out
fretfully: "How was I to dream that McCraw could be so near!--that he
dared raid us within a mile of the house! Oh, I could die of shame,
Ormond! die of shame!... But I won't die that way; oh no," he added,
with a frightful smile that left his face distorted and white.

He raised himself on one elbow.

"Ormond," he said, staring at vacancy, "what trivial matters a man
thinks of in the shadow of death. I can't consider it; I can't be
reconciled to it; I can't even pray. One absurd idea possesses me--that
Singleton will have the Legion now; and he's a slack drill-master--he
is, indeed!... I've a million things to think of--an idle life to
consider, a misspent career to repent, but the time is too short,
Ormond.... Perhaps all that will come at the instant of--of--"

"Death," I said, wearily.

"Yes, yes; that's it, death. I'm no coward; I'm calm enough--but I'm
stunned. I can't think for the suddenness of it!... And you just home;
and Ruyven there, snuggled close to you as a house-cat--and then that
sound of galloping, like a fly-stung herd of cattle in a pasture!"

"I think Ruyven is safe," I said, closing my eyes.

"Yes, he's safe. Nobody chased him; they'll know at the manor by this
time; they knew long ago.... My men will be out.... Where are
we, Ormond?"

"I don't know," I murmured, drowsily. The months of fatigue, the
unbroken strain, the feverish weeks spent in endless trails, the
constant craving for movement to occupy my thoughts, the sleepless
nights which were the more unendurable because physical exhaustion could
not give me peace or rest, now told on me. I drowsed in the very
presence of death; and the stupor settled heavily, bringing, for the
first time since I left Varick Manor, rest and immunity from despair or
even desire.

I cared for nothing: hope of her was dead; hope of life might die and I
was acquiescent, contented, glad of the end. I had endured too much.

My sleep--or unconsciousness--could not have lasted long; the sun was
not yet level with my eyes when I roused to find Sir George tugging at
my sleeve and a man in a soiled and tarnished scarlet uniform