"None, save Master Dunner." "Ah!" exclaimed Sir Hugh, "and who is Master Dunner, pray?" "An aged retainer of our house, the attorney and councillor who hath aided me in this juncture." "Was this wild plan his?" "My own," I answered. "And had you no man of your house to whom to turn?" "We are alone, my father and I." "And was there no gallant among your acquaintance who could relieve you of this desperate endeavour?" "Not without a price greater than I could pay." "And that price?" I do not know why I answered these questions, but he stood before me so dominant and so masterful; I felt so miserable and weak and helpless; the enterprise which I had carried through so gallantly, and from which I had hoped so much, was apparently fruitless. I was as a child before him for the time being. "The price, I ask," he repeated. "Myself." A slow smile swept across Sir Hugh's face. "Have you never found that tall, strong, brave, true man, with bright hair and blue eyes; that brave, fierce soldier to all the world who reserves his tender side for you, who will worship you and think you as far above him as the stars, Master Carthew?" "Not yet," I answered, bitterly ashamed of myself as he quoted my foolish remarks of the night before. I looked pointedly at him as I spoke. "My own hair is brown, my eyes and skin are dark." He shook his head sadly and then, with a swift change of manner, he continued, "But, do you know, I think I have found the woman of whom I dreamed, and of whom I told you over the cups last night." There was a direct, not to say a burning, intensity about his gaze, as he fixed it on me, that fairly shocked me. "I pray you, sir, do not mock me," I began in my confusion. In spite of my words, there was something that thrilled my heart not only in what he said, but in the way he said it. "I was never farther from mockery in my life," said Sir Hugh gravely. "These," said I, "are the manners of the army, doubtless, which finds a sweetheart in every post." "How admirable is your memory," returned the soldier. "And 'tis most ungenerous to entreat me thus, being a woman, wounded, helpless, beaten, and your prisoner." "It is so," said Sir Hugh contritely. "Madam, you have rebuked me well. Now, what is to be done?" It was obviously not for me to answer that question, so I remained discreetly silent while Sir Hugh pondered the situation, thinking deeply on his course. "Do you know how far it is to the next town, Musselburgh I believe they call it?" he asked me at last. I was tempted not to answer him. I would fain give no advice or counsel. I was not bound to give aid and comfort to the enemy. But lingering remains of discretion prompted me to placate my fierce conqueror by submissiveness, if possible. "It is perhaps five or six miles by the road, I think."