“I am, but I prefer to engage under Traquair’s banner if he raises it.” “Against me?” “Just that.” “And you think I will let you go?” “I’ll take my oath on it.” “You are right. The way is clear to Scotland, to Oxford, or where you please. What have you come to me for?” “For Frances Wentworth.” “I thought as much. In this I cannot oblige you. With you I have nothing to do, and you are at liberty. That wench of Wentworth’s stands on a different footing, inasmuch as she has proved traitor to her own. I shall do nothing to injure her, but she shall taste captivity until she confesses her error.” “She is no traitor, but did well the work you set for her.” “I set no work for her. ’Twas given to her brother, and his folly brought her into the business.” “You gave your consent at Northampton; thus I say you set her to the task, and well she performed it. If your men had done your bidding as faithfully, I had never crossed the Esk.” “She connived at your escape from Lichfield, and elsewhere.” “True, but she was a free woman then, having fulfilled her duty to you.” “You are quibbling. She is a traitor, and more honest than you; she admits it.” “I say she is a true woman,” cried Armstrong, red anger flushing his brow. The hot Border blood sprang into mastery for the first time during their controversy, and he failed to note that Cromwell remained cold as at the beginning, and might be negotiated with, if he had remembered the commander’s resolve to enlist the Scot in his service. But before the General could give hint of a bargain, the impetuosity of the younger man left him only the choice of killing the Scot where he stood, or apparently succumbing to him, a most dangerous alternative had Armstrong to deal with one less schooled in the repression of his feelings than Cromwell. The ill-advised Borderer dropped his hat silently to the floor, flashed forth his sword, and presented it at his opponent’s throat. “They tell me you wear concealed armour,”--his voice was quiet in its intensity, almost a whisper,--“but that will not help you. No human power can avail you at this moment, for if you cry out my blade advances, and a bit of your backbone sticks to the point of it. You see I cannot help myself, but must kill you unless I get your promise.” Cromwell sat rigid, not a muscle of face or body moving. The sword was held as steady as a beam of the roof. “I implore you to heed me,” continued the young man, seeing the other did not intend to speak. “I implore you, as if I were on my bended knees before you, and my life in your hands, instead of yours in mine. Will you let the great affairs of state be jeopardized to thwart two lovers? With you slain, the King wins, for there is none in England can fill your place. Have you sons and daughters of your own that your heart goes out to? Think of them, and be kind to us.” “Will you marry the girl?” “Surely, surely.” “Here, before you depart together?”