"He played a mighty heavy fist for a sick man not three months gone, anyhow, good dame. Nay, keep your distance. Good God! if the old lady isn't going to kneel to me." For my mother made as if she would throw herself at the soldier's feet. "Mother, calm yourself," I said. "Pray, sir, you see I am in no case to bear much talking. What is your will with me." "I'm sorry, I'm very sorry. A man like you that ought to be fighting Mounseer, and a proper Life Guardsman yo'd make, for sure. Well, well, of all the tomfoolery! However, I see no help for it." And Long Tom strode about the room in evident perplexity, muttering to himself: "A brave lad," "a sad case," "too good for the gallows," and "I owe the wench one, too." I seemed to watch the working of his mind, and hope stole trembling back into my heart. Another too was scanning his face as anxiously as manner marks the witness of the skies. "And so, madam," he said, "you are his mother, and I suppose this tale of small pox is all flam. And you, Miss, what is this long-limbed game cock to you?" "Oh! Sergeant," cried Mary, "I am sure you have a good heart, and are a brave and generous man. You must not think ill of Ben for besting you when yo' fought. It was all for me." "I don't' think any the worse of him, pretty. I think all the better of him. It served me right, and if I hadn't taken a drop too much, I shouldn't have tried to steal a kiss. Tho' you will admit the provocation." And here the gallant sergeant doffed his shako and made a low bow to Mary, who blushed and curtsied and cast down her eyes. "But I owe you some return, miss, for my ill manners, and as for the trouncing, a soldier bears no malice. But you haven't told me, yet, what is this Ben here to you? Your brother?" "No, good sir, my cousin!" "H'm. Aught else?" Then did Mary catch her breath and hold me tighter by the hand; and for a moment I could hear my own heart beat. "He is my sweetheart, sir, an't please you. And we're to be wed when he's well. And oh! sir, it will kill me if yo' take him from me." "And a lucky dog he is to have so fair a bride. Well, well, I'll risk it. But hark you, Ben Bamforth, you've had a narrow shave. I won't enquire how you came by that bandaged arm. Perhaps I know more than yo think. A change of air will do you good. I say no more than this: 'Next time yo' go out of nights, take missy with you. Veils are dangerous, especially with such eyes behind them'"--another bow to Mary--"but masks are worse. You take me." Indeed I did take him. "And now I'm off. You need fear nothing from my report. But be careful of the company you keep. A wink's as good as a nod, they say, and there's a man in your confounded league who has no love for Ben Bamforth." "Good day, ma'am, and I wish you better of the small pox." Long Tom clinked his heels together, drew himself up to the salute, nearly knocking his head against the rafters as he did it, and turned to go. He had reached the head of the stairs.