o the air."

Even as she spoke, the door opened and Tiffany ran in.

"My lady!" she cried; "my lady, John Thoroughgood rides up the avenue
on a foundering horse!"

Brilliana gave a great cry and went ghost-white.

"Dear God, the letter! I had forgotten the letter!"

Tiffany slipped from the room. Evander answered Brilliana's cry very
calmly.

"For the second, so had I. But, indeed, dear lady and friend, I know
its terms."

"You cannot be sure," Brilliana whispered.

"I am sure," Evander replied. "I know Colonel Cromwell."

The door opened again and Thoroughgood entered, splashed with mud and
carrying a letter in his hand.

"My lady," said Thoroughgood, "I have ridden hard and long to find
the rebels. I have killed two horses; I had to wait on Colonel
Cromwell's leisure; I was fired at thrice as I rode. At long last
and through many perils here is the letter."

"I thank you," Brilliana said. "You are a faithful servant. Seek wine
and food and rest."

Thoroughgood saluted her and went out. He looked fagged to
exhaustion. In the passage he found Tiffany, kissing-kind. Brilliana
opened the letter and read it slowly. Then she gave a cry.

"Pray you read, lady," Evander said, composedly. Brilliana complied
in a hard, set voice.

"MADAM,--The prisoner with whom you claim kinship was
sentenced to be shot as a spy this morning. My loving
greetings to my very dear friend, Mr. Cloud, who, if you
chose enough to murder him, will, I know, meet death as a
Christian soldier should.

"OLIVER CROMWELL."

"The wicked villain," Brilliana cried.

"Nay, lady," Evander argued tranquilly--he must carry himself well
now--"the true captain doing his duty. It hath cost him a pang to
sacrifice me; he would have sacrificed his son Henry or his son
Richard in the like case."

Brilliana clasped and unclasped her hands.

"I care nothing for his son Henry or his son Richard."

"You care nothing for me?" Evander affirmed, slowly.

"I do care," she said, hotly. "We have broken bread together, played
games together, masked at friendship till the sport became reality."

"Lady," said Evander, "I thank you for the kindness you imply. Our
friendship has been brief, but passing sweet. I shall die on a divine
memory."

"Why, sir," she gasped, "you do not think I could kill you now?"

"You vowed I should die if your cousin died," he reminded her. "I
think you must keep your word. It i