"Gabord," she said, "vanity speaks in you there, not honesty. No
gentleman here is a juggler. No kindness you may have done warrants
insolence. You have the power to bring great misery on us, and you
may have the will, but, by God's help, both my husband and myself
shall be delivered from cruel hands. At any moment I may stand alone
in the world, friends, people, the Church, and all the land against
me: if you desire to haste that time, to bring me to disaster,
because you would injure my husband,"--how sweet the name sounded on
her lips!--"then act, but do not insult us. But no, no," she broke
off softly, "you spoke in temper, you meant it not, you were but
vexed with us for the moment. Dear Gabord," she added, "did we not
know that if we had asked you first, you would have refused us? You
care so much for me, you would have feared my linking my life and
fate with one--"

"With one the death-man has in hand, to pay price for wicked
deed," he interrupted.

"With one innocent of all dishonour, a gentleman wronged every
way. Gabord, you know it so, for you have guarded him and fought
with him, and you are an honourable gentleman," she added gently.

"No gentleman I," he burst forth, "but jailer base, and soldier
born upon a truss of hay. But honour is an apple any man may eat
since Adam walked in garden.... 'Tis honest foe, here," he
continued magnanimously, and nodded towards me.

"We would have told you all," she said, "but how dare we involve
you, or how dare we tempt you, or how dare we risk your refusal? It