de. I shut my eyes wilfully when a voice low and
tender asked: "Are you awake, Monsieur John?"

I hope you will hold me forgiven, my dears, if I confess that what with
the nausea and the headache, the fetters and the solitude, I was rabid
enough to rail at her. 'Twas so near dusk in the ill-lighted garret that
I could not see how she took it; but she let me know by word of mouth.

"_Merci, Monsieur_," she said, icily. And then: "Gratitude does not seem
to be amongst your gifts."

At this I broke out in all a sick man's pettishness.

"Gratitude! Mayhap you will tell me what it is I have to be grateful
for. All I craved was the chance to die as a soldier should, and some
one must needs spoil me of that!"

"Selfish--selfish always and to the last," she murmured. "Do you never
give a moment's thought to the feelings of others, Captain Ireton?"

This was past all endurance.

"If I had not, should I be here this moment?" I raved. "You do make me
sicker than I was, my lady."

"Yet I say you are selfish," she insisted. "What have I done that you
should come here to have yourself hanged for a spy?"

"Let us have plain speech, in God's name," I retorted. "You know well
enough there was no better way in which I could serve you."

"Do I, indeed, _mon ami_?" she flashed out. "Let me tell you, sir, had
she ever a blush of saving pride, Margery Stair--or Margery Ireton, if
you like that better--would kill you with her own hand rather than have
it said her husband died upon a gallows!"

A sudden light broke in upon me and I went blind in the horror of it.

"God in Heaven!" I gasped; "'twas you, then? I do believe you poisoned
me in that dish of tea you sent me last night!"

She laughed, a bitter little laugh that I hated to think on afterward.

"You have a most chivalrous soul, Captain Ireton. I do not wonder you
are so fierce to shake it free of the poor body of clay."

"But you do not deny it!" I cried.

"Of what use would it be? I have said that I would not have you die
shamefully on the gallows; so I may as well confess to the poppy-juice
in the tea. Tell me, Monsieur John; was it nasty bitter?"

"Good Lord!" I groaned; "are you a woman, or a fiend?"

"Either, or both, as you like to hold me, sir. But come what might, I
said you should not die a felon's death. And you have not, as yet."

"Better a thousand times the rope and tree than that I should rot by
inches here with you to sit by and gird at me. Ah, my la