Brilliana's eyes were bright and kind. "You do not know what you are saying. I do not know what you are saying. The world would have to change before I could listen with patience to words of love on the lips of a rebel." Evander answered her bravely. "I know that. I did not hope; but I had to set my soul free. To the end of ends I shall cherish you, live for you, die for you: very lonely, well content." Brilliana turned away. The heart of Juliet within her was big almost to breaking. "The rain ceases; I must go into the air." Even as she spoke, the door opened and Tiffany ran in. "My lady!" she cried; "my lady, John Thoroughgood rides up the avenue on a foundering horse!" Brilliana gave a great cry and went ghost-white. "Dear God, the letter! I had forgotten the letter!" Tiffany slipped from the room. Evander answered Brilliana's cry very calmly. "For the second, so had I. But, indeed, dear lady and friend, I know its terms." "You cannot be sure," Brilliana whispered. "I am sure," Evander replied. "I know Colonel Cromwell." The door opened again and Thoroughgood entered, splashed with mud and carrying a letter in his hand. "My lady," said Thoroughgood, "I have ridden hard and long to find the rebels. I have killed two horses; I had to wait on Colonel Cromwell's leisure; I was fired at thrice as I rode. At long last and through many perils here is the letter." "I thank you," Brilliana said. "You are a faithful servant. Seek wine and food and rest." Thoroughgood saluted her and went out. He looked fagged to exhaustion. In the passage he found Tiffany, kissing-kind. Brilliana opened the letter and read it slowly. Then she gave a cry. "Pray you read, lady," Evander said, composedly. Brilliana complied in a hard, set voice. "MADAM,--The prisoner with whom you claim kinship was sentenced to be shot as a spy this morning. My loving greetings to my very dear friend, Mr. Cloud, who, if you chose enough to murder him, will, I know, meet death as a Christian soldier should. "OLIVER CROMWELL." "The wicked villain," Brilliana cried. "Nay, lady," Evander argued tranquilly--he must carry himself well now--"the true captain doing his duty. It hath cost him a pang to sacrifice me; he would have sacrificed his son Henry or his son Richard in the like case." Brilliana clasped and unclasped her hands. "I care nothing for his son Henry or his son Richard." "You care nothing for me?" Evander affirmed, slowly. "I do care," she said, hotly. "We have broken bread together, played games together, masked at friendship till the sport became reality." "Lady," said Evander, "I thank you for the kindness you imply. Our friendship has been brief, but passing sweet. I shall die on a divine memory." "Why, sir," she gasped, "you do not think I could kill you now?" "You vowed I should die if your cousin died," he reminded her. "I think you must keep your word. It is the fortune of war."