"But you're a doctor!" she cried.

"That's merely a diversion, I think. By trade I am a soldier - at
least, it's a trade I followed for ten years. It brought me no great
gear, but it served me better than medicine, which, as you may
observe, has brought me into slavery. I'm thinking it's more pleasing
in the sight of Heaven to kill men than to heal them. Sure it must
be."

"But how came you to be a soldier, and to serve the French?"

"I am Irish, you see, and I studied medicine. Therefore - since it's
a perverse nation we are - .... Oh, but it's a long story, and the
Colonel will be expecting my return." She was not in that way to be
defrauded of her entertainment. If he would wait a moment they would
ride back together. She had but come to enquire of the Governor's
health at her uncle's request.

So he waited, and so they rode back together to Colonel Bishop's
house. They rode very slowly, at a walking pace, and some whom
they passed marvelled to see the doctor-slave on such apparently
intimate terms with his owner's niece. One or two may have promised
themselves that they would drop a hint to the Colonel. But the two
rode oblivious of all others in the world that morning. He was
telling her the story of his early turbulent days, and at the end
of it he dwelt more fully than hitherto upon the manner of his arrest
and trial.

The tale was barely done when they drew up at the Colonel's door,