"What then? This! That you are now more contemptible and ridiculous and utterly non-existent, to me, than you have formerly been! That, whatever I may have done which seemed in your behalf, was partly from the strange insanity of which I have spoken, and partly from the most meaningless caprice! That, if you remain here till to-morrow, you may see me in the arms of the man I really love, and that he may not be as careless of the fate of a vagabond rebel as I am. And now, Captain Crayton, or Dayton, or Peyton, or whatever you please, of somebody or other's light horse, go or stay, as you choose; you're as welcome as any other casual passer-by, for all the comical figure your impudence has made you cut! Learn modesty, sir, and you may fare better in your next love-making, if you do not aim too high! And that piece of advice is the reward I hinted at! Good night!" And she whirled from the room, slamming behind her the mahogany door, at which Peyton stared for some seconds, in blank amazement, too overwhelmed to speak or move or breathe or think. But gradually he came to life, slowly rose, stood for a moment thoughtful, fashioned his brows into a frown, drew his lips back hard, and muttered through his closed teeth: "I'll stay and fight that man, at least!" And he sat down by the table, to wait. CHAPTER XII. THE CHALLENGE. A very few moments had elapsed, and Peyton still sat by the table, in a dogged study, when the door from the south hall was opened slightly, and if he had looked he might have seen a pair of eyes peeping through the aperture. But he did not look, either then or when, some seconds later, the door opened wide and Miss Sally bobbed gracefully in. It has been related how, after her brilliant but exhausting conduct of the important scene assigned her, she sought repose in her room. Looking out of her window presently, she saw something, of which she thought it advisable to inform Elizabeth. Therefore she came down-stairs. Did she listen at the door to the last part of that notable conversation? Ungallant thought, aroint thee! 'Tis well known women have little curiosity, and what little they have they would not, being of Miss Sally's station in life, descend to gratify by eavesdropping. Let it be assumed, therefore, that the much vaunted informant, feminine intuition, told Miss Sally of the end of the interview between her niece and the captain, both as to the time of that end and as to its nature. She entered, tremulous with a vast idea that had blazed suddenly on her mind. Now that Elizabeth was quite through with Peyton, now that Peyton must be low in his self-esteem for Elizabeth's humiliation of him, and therefore likely to be grateful for consolatory attentions, Miss Sally might resume her own hopes. But there was no time to be lost. "Your pardon, captain," she began, sweetly, with her most flattering smile. "I am looking for Miss Elizabeth."