"Madam, I would not deny you anything," the Captain bowed, "but you have only to look into the mirror to behold a rebel of the deepest dye."
"But not a dangerous one," I smiled.
"Ah, dear lady," says the Captain, with one hand straying to his heart, "'tis only for us men to say how dangerous you are."
"Grantley," says the Earl, my papa—and I wish this generation could have seen how elegant he was, even in his age—"if every rebel was as dangerous a one as madam is, there would be a change of dynasty mighty soon."
Afterwards we had piquet together, but wearying of the game, I reminded the Captain of my wish. Without more ado he put me in a hood and cloak, the night being dark and keen, and threatening to snow, and took me to the prisoner on his arm. We bore a lantern with us, otherwise nothing had been visible, for the moon had not appeared yet. The poor rebel we found reposing on straw in one of the stables, but with even less of comfort than is allowed to horses. One of the troopers had mounted guard outside the door, his bayonet fixed, and himself leaning on the panel. He saluted us, and looked as cordial as his rank allowed; but his strict figure, with grim night and naked steel about it, sent a shiver through my wraps. You read of war in histories, and think it adventurous and fine, but when cold bayonet looks upon you from the dark, and you know that it is there to hold some defence-
