his throat. He held out his hand, and Nicolas took it. At last he was
able to say:

"Good luck to you, Nic, and to the devil with the Rebellion! You're in
for a bad drubbing."

Nicolas had a sudden feeling of anger. This superior air of Ferrol's was
assumed by most Englishmen in the country, and it galled him.

"We'll not ask quarter of Englishmen; no-sacre!" he said in a rage.

"Well, Nic, I'm not so sure of that. Better do that than break your
pretty neck on a taut rope," was the lazy reply.

With an oath, Lavilette went out, banging the door after him. Ferrol
shrugged his shoulder with a stoic ennui, and put away the pistols in the
trunk. He was thinking how reckless he had been to take them out; and
yet he was amused, too, at the risk he had run. A strange indifference
possessed him this morning--indifference to everything. He was suffering
reaction from the previous day's excitement. He had got the five
thousand dollars, and now all interest in it seemed to have departed.

Suddenly he said to himself, as he ran a brush around his coat-collar:

"'Pon my soul, I forgot; this is my wedding day!--the great day in a
man's life, the immense event, after which comes steady happiness or the
devil to pay."

He stepped to the window and looked out. It was only six o'clock as yet.
He could see the harvesters going to their labours in the fields of wheat