Molly enforced her commands with such physical persuasions that Cuff, ere he well knew what he was about, was helping Peyton from the horse. The captain, revived by a supreme effort, leaned on the boy's shoulder and came limping and lurching across the porch into the hall. Molly then went to his assistance, and with this additional aid he reached the settle, on which he dropped, weak, pale, and panting. He took a sitting posture, gasped his thanks to Molly, and, noticing the blood from his leg wound, called damnation on the Hessian officer's sword. Presently he asked for a drink of water. At Molly's bidding the negro boy hastened for water, and also to inform his mistress of the arrival. Elizabeth, hearing the news, rose with an exclamation; but, taking thought, sat down again, and, with a pretence of composure, finished her cup of tea. Cuff returned with a glass of water to the hall, where Molly was listening to Peyton's objurgations on his condition. The captain took the glass eagerly, and was about to drink, when a footstep was heard on the stairs. He turned his head and saw Elizabeth. "Here's my respects, madam," quoth he, and drank off the water. Elizabeth came down-stairs and took a position where she could look Peyton well over. He watched her with some wonderment. When she was quite ready she spoke: "So, it is, indeed, the man who stole my horse." "Pardon. I think your horse has stolen _me_! It made me an intruder here quite against my will, I assure you." "You will doubtless not honor us by remaining?" There was more seriousness of curiosity in this question than Elizabeth betrayed or Peyton perceived. "What can I do? I can neither ride nor walk." "But your men will probably come for you?" "I don't think any saw the horse bear me from the fight. The field was in smoke and darkness. My troops must have pursued the enemy. They'll think me killed or made prisoner. If they return this way, however, I can have them stop and take me along." "Then you expect that, in repayment of your treatment of me awhile ago--" Elizabeth paused. "Madam, you should allow for the exigencies of war! Yet, if you wish to turn me out--" Elizabeth interrupted him: "So it is true that, if you fell into the hands of the British, they would hang you?" "Doubtless! But you shouldn't blame _me_ for what _they'd_ do. And how did you know?" "Help this gentleman into the east parlor," said Elizabeth, abruptly, to Cuff. "Ah!" cried Peyton, his face lighting up with quick gratitude. "Madam, you then make me your guest?" He thrust forward his head, forgetful of his condition. "My guest?" rang out Elizabeth's voice in answer. "You insolent rebel, I intend to hand you over to the British!" There was a brief silence. Each gazed at the other. "You will not--do that?" said Peyton, in a voice little above a whisper. "Wait and see!" And she stood regarding him with elation. He stared at her in blank consternation.