Elizabeth cast a look of secret elation on the unheeding rebel captain, whose forehead was still against the window-pane. She saw a possible means of his still further degradation. Suddenly he took a quick step back from the window, impulsively renewed his grasp of his sword-hilt, and showed a face of resolute antagonism. Elizabeth knew from this that he had seen Colden. She gave a smile of pleasant anticipation. But Miss Sally had relapsed into her usual timid self. She held tightly to Elizabeth's arm. "Oh, dear!" she whispered. "Won't something happen when those two meet?" "I hope so!" said Elizabeth, placidly. "Why?" demanded Miss Sally, beginning to weaken at the knees. "If Colden sends him to the ground, in our presence, that will crown the fellow's humiliation." Five brisk knocks, in quick succession, were heard from the outside door of the east hall. Peyton walked across the parlor, turned, and stood facing the east hall door, the greater part of the room's length being between him and it. His hand remained on his sword. He paid no heed to Elizabeth, she paid none to him. "His knock!" she said, and called out through the east hall door: "'Tis Major Colden, Sam. Show him here at once." She then stepped back from the door, to a place whence she could see both it and Peyton. Her aunt clung to her arm all the while, and now whispered, "Oh, Elizabeth, I fear there will be trouble!" "If there is, it won't fall on your silly head," whispered Elizabeth, in reply. From the hall came the sound of the drawing of bolts. Peyton did not take his eyes from the door. A noise of footfalls, accompanied by clank of spurs and weapons, and in came Colden, his hat in his left hand, snow on his hat and shoulders, his cloak open, his sword and pistols visible, his right hand ungloved to clasp Elizabeth's. She received him with such a cordial smile as he had never before had from her. "Elizabeth!" he cried,--beheld only her, hastened to her, took her proffered hand, bent his head and kissed the fingers, raised his eyes with a grateful, joyous smile,--and saw Peyton standing motionless at the other side of the room. The smile vanished; a look of amazement and hatred came. "I wish you a very good evening, _Major_ Colden!" Peyton said this in a voice as hard and ironical as might have come from a brass statue. For the next few seconds the two men stood gazing at each other, the women gazing at the men. At last the Tory major found speech: "Elizabeth,--what does it mean? Why is this man here,--again?" "'Tis rather a long story, Jack, and you shall hear it all in time," said Elizabeth, determined he should never hear the true story. Before she could continue, Colden suffered a start of alarm to possess him, and asked, quickly: "Are any of his troops here?" "No; he is quite alone," she answered. Colden at once took on height, arrogance, and formidableness. "Then why have not your servants made him a prisoner?" he asked.