"So be it, comrade," replied the other, again sheathing his half-drawn rapier. "I know you not; and can but barely divine your cause of enmity. But I will not fail you at the night-time. Till then let this suffice. The midnight watch is mine--mine by the first assent of yonder soldier to my proposal of exchange." "No! Mine," again urged Gerald, "mine by his retractation of his prior consent, if such he gave." "Come hither, comrade," cried Maywood to Gideon, who was suddenly absorbed once more in his devotions. "Hear ye, Master Godlamb," said the other. But Go-to-bed Godlamb stirred not. He shrank from the appeal to himself. "It is to me your post has been consigned, is it not so?" enquired the one. "It is I who take it off your hands--speak," cried Gerald. "Remember, Gideon," he added with upraised finger. "Speak, who is it?" said both at once. Gideon shuffled with his feet, and looked heavier and more embarrassed than ever; but as he caught sight of the warning finger, he absolutely shut his eyes in utter despair, and pointing at Gerald, with the words, "Verily, and of a truth, thou art the man," he hastened away as fast as his indolent nature would permit, "before he should fall into the toils of the angry Philistines," as he expressed it. Gerald could not suppress a look of triumph. Whatever were Mark Maywood's feelings, he only expressed them by a dark scowl of disappointment, and then turned away without another word. CHAPTER IV. "'What hour now?' 'I think it lacks of twelve,' 'No, it is struck--' 'Indeed I heard it not.'" _Hamlet._ The night had closed in--that night of so vital importance to his father's destiny--and Gerald sat alone in a small lower room, his heart beating high with hope, that he should contribute to his father's rescue. He was lost in thought, when a firm hand laid on his shoulder roused him from his abstracted state. He turned his head, and saw, to his surprise, Mark Maywood by his side. The young man wore a calmer, clearer brow, although his usual cold, stern, almost determined expression still pervaded it. "Comrade," said Maywood with much appearance of frankness in his manner, "I have spoken roughly without cause; I crave your pardon." Gerald heard this unexpected address with great astonishment; and, before he answered, paused in much embarrassment. "Let us be frank," continued Mark. "Had we been so before, much ill will and evil blood might have been spared. I have only divined your feelings from my own. You have not seen the pretty daughter of our colonel with admiration. Nor have I." Gerald started with again rising wrath, but his rival interrupted him.