The supper bell rang, and instead of replying, Dorothy looked up for her dismissal. 'Go to supper, my lady,' said lord Herbert. 'I have but just dined, and will see what Caspar is about.' 'I want no supper but my Herbert,' returned lady Margaret. 'Thou wilt not go to that hateful workshop?' 'I have so little time at home now--' 'That you must spend it from your lady?--Go to supper, Dorothy.' CHAPTER XV HUSBAND AND WIFE 'What an old-fashioned damsel it is!' said lord Herbert when Dorothy had left the room. 'She has led a lonely life,' answered lady Margaret, 'and has read a many old-fashioned books.' 'She seems a right companion for thee, Peggy, and I am glad of it, for I shall be much from thee--more and more, I fear, till this bitter weather be gone by.' 'Alas, Ned! hast thou not been more than much from me already? Thou wilt certainly be killed, though thou hast not yet a scratch on thy blessed body. I would it were over and all well!' 'So would I--and heartily, dear heart! In very truth I love fighting as little as thou. But it is a thing that hath to be done, though small honour will ever be mine therefrom, I greatly fear me. It is one of those affairs in which liking goes farther than goodwill, and as I say, I love it not, only to do my duty. Hence doubtless it comes that no luck attends me. God knows I fear nothing a man ought not to fear--he is my witness--but what good service of arms have I yet rendered my king? It is but thy face, Peggy, that draws the smile from me. My heart is heavy. See how my rascally Welsh yielded before Gloucester, when the rogue Waller stole a march upon them--and I must be from thence! Had I but been there instead of at Oxford, thinkest thou they would have laid down their arms nor struck a single blow? I like not killing, but I can kill, and I can be killed. Thou knowest, sweet wife, thy Ned would not run.' 'Holy mother!' exclaimed lady Margaret. 'But I have no good luck at fighting,' he went on. 'And how again at Monmouth, the hare-hearts with which I had thought to garrison the place fled at the bare advent of that same parliament beagle, Waller! By St. George! it were easier to make an engine that should mow down a thousand brave men with one sweep of a scythe-and I could make it-than to put courage into the heart of one runaway rascal. It makes me mad to think how they have disgraced me!' 'But Monmouth is thine own again, Herbert!' 'Yes-thanks to the love they bear my father, not to my generalship! Thy husband is a poor soldier, Peggy: he cannot make soldiers.' 'Then why not leave the field to others, and labour at thy engines, love? If thou wilt, I tell thee what-I will doff my gown, and in wrapper and petticoat help thee, sweet. I will to it with bare arms like thine own.'