At length she stopped short and took her supporting arm away from me. “You will have time enough to grieve,” she said. “You must be a man now.” I looked into her face and understood why Pierre had called her a hard woman. But perhaps he had never seen her other side as I had! “Yes, Michael,” she continued. “It is time you trod upon your weakness and became a man. Do you not see your duty? Are you not ready to take your right?” She held me off at arm’s length and looked sternly into my eyes as she pronounced the word “Revenge.” “I shall kill him to-night,” I answered. Her only response was a sharp snap of her fingers. The hound she had rebuked before bounded joyfully to her side. She stooped and parted his shaggy hair with her fingers. “See,” she said, showing me a deep scar upon his side. “This was the work of the patroon. The dog would have torn him to pieces but I called him back. Would you have me kill him with a dog? No—I have a score of servants in my house who would do as you say you would do, servants who would kill him to-night if I lifted my hand. But you are not my servant nor shall you do it either.” “But——” I remonstrated, and got no further before she interrupted me. “Don’t but me! You and Pierre and I—each of us has his word to say to the patroon. But we shall say it like men. Though Van Volkenberg is a merchant he knows what war is and understands the game of life. What is death to such a man as he is if he does not know why he dies. I shall ruin him first. With the help of Earl Richard, I shall make him taste of the bitterness of life before I give him death to sweeten his woe. Before God, he shall find death sweet unless I fail. You shall not kill him till I give the word. Do you promise?” She laid her hand upon the cross-shaped hilt of my sword. “Will you swear upon your sword? Will you stay here, not as my servant but as my friend? Will you work with me to bring God’s judgment on this Roman Catholic?” Her last reference wakened all my bitter thoughts. I fell on my knees before her and took one of her hands between mine as the old custom is. “I swear to be your man,” I cried. “I will be loyal to you and to the Earl, who is your friend. My sister’s blood shall not dry unavenged, but I surrender myself to you. Henceforth I swear to be your man.” She lifted me and kissed me on the forehead. “We have free manners here, Michael. If you have a sister whose blood cries out, I have a husband’s. The patroon brought the news of his death. I know he murdered Sir Evelin. I have seen it in my dreams. This great hate of mine could not come without some cause in nature. We shall play well together, Michael, you and I.” She took me by the arm and led me through the passages of the house, through many turnings and up narrow stairs to a little gable room.