Gervase looked with curiosity on the great Irish leader, than whom no more notable figure and chivalrous gentleman fought in the Irish ranks, and lent lustre and honour to a somewhat tarnished cause. He was little, indeed, above the middle height, but his bold and gallant bearing gave him the appearance of being of more than the ordinary stature. His brow was frank and open, and his eyes had the clear and resolute gaze of a man accustomed to bold and perilous action--ardent, impetuous, and courageous. His speech came rapidly, and his utterance was of the clearest and most decisive. Accustomed to camps he had yet the air of a well-bred man of the world, and when he smiled his face lost the fixed and somewhat melancholy air it wore when in repose. “And you are Colonel Sarsfield?” Dorothy inquired. “Then we are friends, for you were the friend of my aunt Lady Bellasis.” “Truly she was my very good friend, and her son Will--your cousin, I presume--was my dear crony and companion-in-arms. We served together during Monmouth´s campaign, and I might almost say that he died in my arms at Taunton. You are then the Dorothy of whom I heard him speak. I think his death broke his mother´s heart. It is strange that we should meet here, but life is made up of strange things; we should wonder at nothing. Now, Mr. Orme, I shall give the lady my arm, and we will see whether even here in the desert they cannot furnish us with a bottle of wine, that we may drink to peace and a settlement of differences. Only I should like to say this: I ask no questions, and look upon you only as Miss Carew´s companion and protector; I expect that you will close your eyes to anything that you may see, and ever after be silent on the matter.” “I hope,” answered Gervase, “I know better than to take advantage of your great kindness. I shall observe your instructions to the letter.” “´Tis very well. Come, Miss Carew,” Sarsfield said, extending his hand, “this hath been a melancholy journey for you, and henceforth I wish you happier fortune. I have given orders regarding the interment of your kinsman, and will spare you all the pain I can.” Dorothy thanked him with a look, and was silent. Beside the river was a farm-house which was evidently used as a military station, for before the door a number of dragoons--perhaps a dozen--were gathered in small groups, and several horses were picketed in the enclosure which had formerly been used as a garden.