Gervase long remembered this strange evening spent in this curious company. He was wholly unable to resist the fascination of the great soldier´s manner, and long after that fiery soul had passed away in the onset at Landen, would dwell upon his memory with admiration and regret. He treated Gervase with perfect friendliness, delicately avoiding all matters that might cause offence. He related many incident in his own career with perfect frankness and vivacity, and spoke with great shrewdness and insight of many famous men that he had met. Of Marlborough, whom he had known in Monmouth´s campaign, he spoke with great enthusiasm in his character as a soldier, though he affected to despise him as a man; and Gervase remembered the conversation in after years, when the hero of Blenheim returned amid the plaudits of the nation and crowned with the laurels of victory. Luttrel listened with a hard and solemn visage; it was abundantly clear that he was determined that he should not go to bed sober, and was already far advanced in his cups before Dorothy left the table. But he was entirely silent under Sarsfield´s eye, and merely plied the bottle with great assiduity. Presently Dorothy quitted the room. Sarsfield standing with his hands on the back of his chair, wished her a stately “good-night.” When she had retired he turned to Gervase. “I shall not see you again this evening, Mr. Orme,” he said, “and I have not asked you for your parole. Nor is such my intention. On your word I know that I could rely, but I know that I have better security for your safe custody there,” and he pointed towards Dorothy´s room. “Good-night, gentlemen, and I trust that you will not quarrel,” with which words he went out. Luttrel put his arms on the table and looked at Gervase with a drunken sneer. “The Colonel thinks that he is a mighty pretty fellow, and that no man knows the points of a woman but himself. And he flirts with the bottle like a quaker, which I have never taken to be the first sign of manhood. Indeed, you are a damnable drinker yourself. Come, sir, fill up your glass cheerfully, or I shall be compelled to think you have an objection to your company.” “I have no fault to find with my entertainment,” Gervase answered good humouredly, unwilling to create any dissension, and making a show of replenishing his glass. “Why, there, that´s right! But I may tell you frankly, Mr. What´s-your-name, that had this thing been left to me, you should not now have been sitting drinking of this excellent usquebaugh in the company of your betters. I speak in the way of friendship, for I ever like to be honest, and, mark you, I mean no offence in the world, but if I had my will, I should even string you up with a hempen cravat round your neck to show you what I think of your principles.” “Meaning thereby that you would hang me?” Gervase said with a smile.