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They returned together, and immediately. "Miss Beverley," cried Mr Harrel, gaily, "I am glad you are not gone, for we want much to consult with you. Will you come up stairs?"
Presently, up came two stragglers, a corporal of the Eighty-eighth and a sergeant of 'Ours. 'Hi, Corporal, yells Crichton, 'ten pounds if you can get me over the breastwork quick's the word! 'Sergeant, says I, 'twenty pounds if you get me over first. Well, down went the Corporal's musket and the Sergeant's pike, and on to their backs we scrambled a deuced painful business for both of us, I give you my word, Beverley.
"Mr Eggleston, madam," he continued, "has been pretty credibly informed that you are actually married: he is very desirous, therefore, to know what are your intentions, for your continuing to be called Miss Beverley, as if still single, leaves him quite in the dark: but, as he is so deeply concerned in the affair, he expects, as a lady of honour, you will deal with him without prevarication."
"I could not take money from you, Miss Beverley," he said, "or from any other woman in the world." "Upon no conditions?" she whispered softly. "Upon no conditions," he repeated. The breeze had dropped, and twilight had followed swiftly upon the misty sunset. There was something a little ghostly about the light in which they sat. "I am stifled," she declared abruptly. "Come and walk."
If Miss Beverley will be Juliet, I am Romeo at her service."
"But she should have some colour. If Madame but no, it is too late. There is a knock. It will be Monsieur. Shall I open the door?" "Yes, open the door," Beverley echoed. Her voice sounded metallic and unnatural in her own ears. "Is this heaven?" Clo wondered. "No, you darling, it's not.
Beverley, sore, haggard, forlornly disheveled, had his arms bound again and was made to march apace with his nimble enemies, who set out swiftly eastward, their disappointment at having their sport cut short, although bitter enough, not in the least indicated by any facial expression or spiteful act.
Then having yawned prodigiously and come somewhat to himself, he proceeded to crawl from under the settee, when, catching sight of Barnabas, he sprang lightly to his feet and greeted him cordially. "Ah, Beverley!" he cried, "how goes it? Glad you woke me was having a devil of a dream. Thought the 'Rascal' had strained his 'off' fore-leg, and was out of the race!
Beverley, who had succeeded in entering his horse at the last possible moment, and who, though an outsider with not the remotest chance of winning, was, nevertheless, something of a buck and dandy, the friend of a Marquis and Viscount, and hence worthy of all respect.
He hugged the gaunt Lieutenant with genuine fervor of joy, while Oncle Jazon ran around them making a series of grotesque capers. The whole command, hearing Oncle Jazon's patriotic words, set up a wild shouting on the spur of a general impression that Beverley came as a messenger bearing glorious news from Washington's army in the east.