Hallam shrugged. "He behaved badly to the sergeant, who said warmly: ''Tis a brave thing ye did, Private Ormond.' And 'Is it?' said Ormond with a sneer. 'I thought we were paid for doing such things.' 'Och, ye sour-faced Sassenach!' said Sergeant Mulqueen, disgusted; and told me about the whole affair." Ailsa had clasped her hands in her lap. The fingers were tightening till the delicate nails whitened. But it was too late to speak of Berkley to Hallam now, too late to ask indulgence on the score of her friendship for a man who had mutilated it. Yet, she could scarcely endure the strain, the overmastering desire to say something in Berkley's behalf--to make him better understood--to explain to Hallam, and have Hallam explain to his troop that Berkley was his own most reckless enemy, that there was good in him, kindness, a capacity for better things---- Thought halted; was it _that_ which, always latent within her bruised heart, stirred it eternally from its pain-weary repose--the belief, still existing, that there was something better in Berkley, that there did remain in him something nobler than he had ever displayed to her? For in some women there is no end to the capacity for mercy--where they love. Hallam, hungry to touch her, had risen and seated himself on the flat arm of the chair in which she was sitting. Listlessly she abandoned her hand to him, listening all the time to the footsteps outside, hearing Hallam's low murmur; heard him lightly venturing to hint of future happiness, not heeding him, attentive only to the footsteps outside. "Private Berk--Ormond--" she calmly corrected herself--"has had no supper, has he?" "Neither have I!" laughed Hallam. And Ailsa rose up, scarlet with annoyance, and called to a negro who was evidently bound kitchenward. And half an hour later some supper was brought to Hallam; and the negro went out into the star-lit court to summon Berkley to the kitchen. Ailsa, leaving Hallam to his supper, and wandering aimlessly through the rear gallery, encountered Letty coming from the kitchen. "My trooper," said the girl, pink and happy, "is going to have _such_ a good supper! You know who I mean, dear--that Mr. Ormond----" "I remember him," said Ailsa steadily. "I thought his name was Berkley." "It is Ormond," said Letty in a low voice. "Then I misunderstood. Is he here again?" "Yes," ventured Letty, smiling; "he is escort to--your Captain." Ailsa's expression was wintry. Letty, still smiling out of her velvet eyes, looked up confidently into Ailsa's face. "Dear," she said, "I wish you could ever know how nice he is. . . . But--I don't believe I could explain----" "Nice? Who? Oh, your trooper!" "You don't mistake me, do you?" asked the girl, flushing up. "I only call him so to you. I knew him in New York--and--he is so much of a man--so entirely good----"