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"You are interrupting me, I think," Lord Wellington rebuked him coldly, and under the habit of obedience and the magnetic eye of his lordship the captain lapsed into anguished silence. "I am of opinion, gentlemen," his lordship addressed the court, "that this affair has gone quite far enough. Miss Armytage's testimony has saved a deal of trouble.
Sylvia Armytage's mad and inexplicable self-accusation was a final bar to that. Men of honour would scorn him, his friends would turn from him in disgust, and Wellington, that great soldier whom he worshipped, and whose esteem he valued above all possessions, would be the first to cast him out.
Miss Armytage's dark, thoughtful eyes became wistful. "Do you know, Terence," she said, "that I am not without some sympathy for the Portuguese resistance to Lord Wellington's decrees. They must bear so terribly hard upon the people. To be compelled with their own hands to destroy their homes and lay waste the lands upon which they have laboured what could be more cruel?"
Truefitt and Doull meantime had each singled out a French seaman, and with hearty good-will were attacking them with their cutlasses. So fierce was their onslaught that they drove them back into the midst of the melee, where Colonel Armytage's troopers were still holding their own against their foes. The French were, however, pressing them very hard.
Arriving at the snake fences of Armytage's farm, he said he would go down to the post at the 'Corner' for letters, and call in an hour for Linda on his return. She found Edith and Jay working hard as usual. Their employment to-day was the very prosaic one of digging potatoes. 'What horrid occupation for a lady! exclaims somebody.
And then the voice of O'Moy on the note of terrible triumph sounded again like a trumpet through the long room. "Ah, but it is the truth at last. We have it now. Her name! Her name!" he shouted. "Who was this wanton?" Miss Armytage's answer was as a bludgeon-stroke to his ferocious exultation. "Myself. Captain Tremayne was with me."
Lady O'Moy checked her tears to look at her companion, and there was dread in her eyes. "You have spoken to Lord Wellington?" "Yes. The opportunity came, and I took it." "And whatever did you tell him?" She was all a-tremble now, as she clutched Miss Armytage's hand.
Miss Armytage saved us from that, and left me convinced, but still not understanding your own attitude. And now comes Richard Butler to surrender to me and cast himself upon my mercy with another tale which completely gives the lie to Miss Armytage's, but confirms your own." "Richard Butler!" cried O'Moy. "He has surrendered to you?" "Half-an-hour ago."
He was looking at the belt of fat resinous pines and balsams, dry as chips from the long summer droughts and tropical heats, which extended along from the foot of Armytage's farm even to the cedar swamp; he was feeling that the slight wind was blowing in a fair direction for the burning of this most inflammable fuel, and consequently the endangering of his property on the creek.
And it was a certain mild but decided disapproval in Miss Armytage's grave glance, when Arthur turned round and saw her sitting on the poop with her father and little sister, which brought the colour to his cheek, for he felt he had been guilty of thoughtless and wanton cruelty. He bowed and moved farther away.
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