At this, there came to the girl a flash of remembrance from that same morning. She seemed to feel the arm of the young soldier around her, and to see the scarlet-clad breast against which her head was pressed so tenderly. A feeling as of treacherous dealing with his faith and with her own rushed upon her, and she struggled to get away. "Are you gone daft, Hugh Knollys," she cried angrily, "or whatever ails you?" He arose shamefacedly, and stood mute. But as she moved off, he stretched out a hand to detain her. "Wait,--wait but a moment, Dot," he begged. "Don't leave me in such fashion. Don't be angry with me." "Are you mad?" she demanded again, and with no less impatience, although pausing beside him. "Aye, I think I must be," he admitted, now speaking more naturally, and trying to smile down into the small face, still glowing with indignation, so far beneath his own. "So it would seem," she said coldly, and in no wise softened. "I ne'er expected such a thing from you." "Never mind, Dot,--forget it," he pleaded, now full of penitence. "I've a great trouble on my mind just now, and your music seemed to bring it all to me with a new rushing." Dorothy's face changed in a second, and became filled with sympathy. "Oh, Hugh, I am so sorry," she said with quick solicitude, taking him by the hand. "Don't you want to tell me about it? Mayhap I can help you." Her anxiety about this unknown trouble had lulled to sleeping her suspicions as to the reason for his outbreak. He smiled,--but sadly, grimly. "I'll tell you some day," he said, "and we will see if you can help me. But we'll be better friends than ever after this, won't we, Dot?" His eyes had been searching her face in nervous wonder, as if to assure himself that he had not told her aught of his secret,--the secret his honor forbade him to reveal. "Yes, Hugh, I am sure we shall be." Dorothy said it with a warmth that set his mind at rest. "And you'll let no redcoats, nor any coats--whate'er be their color--come betwixt us?" he added, with a touch of his old playfulness. "No, never!" And there was a sincerity and firmness in her answer that warmed his very heart. "Thank you, Dot," he said, lifting her fingers to his lips. "And thank God!" he muttered as he released her hand, saying it in a way to make Dorothy feel uncomfortable in the thought that perhaps she had pledged herself to something more than she had intended. Just here Aunt Lettice came into the room. "Leet has returned from the town," she announced, full of excitement, "and says that Mugford's wife has at last prevailed upon the English officers to release him." "Can this be true?" inquired the young man, instantly alert, and quite his natural self again. "So Leet says; and that Mugford is now in the town, with every one rejoicing over him." And she poked the fire with great energy, sending a thousand sparkles of flame dancing up the wide chimney.