"He never calculated on the possibility of such a contingency," said
I.

"By heavens, then, I thought she would like it," said he.

"And to oblige her you were content to sacrifice yourself," said
Mackinnon.

"Well, that was just it. What the deuce is a fellow to do when a
woman goes on in that way. She told me down there, upon the old
race course you know, that matrimonial bonds were made for fools and
slaves. What was I to suppose that she meant by that? But to make
all sure, I asked her what sort of a fellow the General was. 'Dear
old man,' she said, clasping her hands together. 'He might, you
know, have been my father.' 'I wish he were,' said I, 'because then
you'd be free.' 'I am free,' said she, stamping on the ground, and
looking up at me as much as to say that she cared for no one.
'Then,' said I, 'accept all that is left of the heart of Wenceslaus
O'Brien,' and I threw myself before her in her path. 'Hand,' said
I, 'I have none to give, but the blood which runs red through my
veins is descended from a double line of kings.' I said that
because she is always fond of riding a high horse. I had gotten
close under the wall, so that none of you should see me from the
tower."

"And what answer did she make?" said Mackinnon.

"Why she was pleased as Punch;--gave me both her hands, and declared
that we would be friends for ever. It is my belief, Mackinnon, that