She put down the flagon, transferred the cup to the other hand, and turned toward Ravenshaw.
"Eh? What?" exclaimed Jerningham, in feigned disapproval, reaching out for the cup.
"Nay," said Meg, holding it away from him; "hospitality ever, even to them you quarrel with!"
Whereupon she walked gravely over to the captain and offered him the cup.
Ravenshaw had thought he detected approbation of himself in this woman's looks at the time of his arrival; and now he thought he might flatter himself the approbation still existed. Attributing all to her good nature toward him, and not suspecting wine in the same vessel, and from the same flagon, as had supplied his enemies but a moment since, he grasped the cup with a hearty smile of gratitude, and emptied it swiftly down his throat.
Meg received back the cup, placed it on the table beside the flagon, and passed silently to the kitchen, followed by a faint smile of mirth on the part of Jerningham. The smile was supplanted by a look of expectant curiosity as Jerningham turned his eyes upon Ravenshaw. The captain sat as before, rapier in one hand, dagger in the other. Jerningham himself had resumed his chair near the table, and Sir Clement retained his old attitude. In the little room, Millicent relapsed into a dreamy half-consciousness, wherein she seemed borne by rough winds through black and red clouds; the room appeared a vast space wherein this occurred; and yet always she was vaguely aware of her actual surroundings.
Ravenshaw felt serenely comfortable; a delicious ease of mind and body came over him; the beat of the rain softened into a soothing lull; the hall grew dark before him. He opened his eyes with a start, amazed at himself for having let them close. A mist seemed to fill the place; through it appeared the faces of his two enemies, a curious smiling expression upon each.
"What is it?" cried the captain, sharply, and gave his head a shake to throw off the drowsiness that invaded him.
"God's death, the wine!" cried Ravenshaw, staggering madly to his feet. "Methought there was an aftertaste. Ye've played foul with me!"
He put his arms against the wall to keep himself from falling; his head swayed, and sank forward; the floor seemed to yield beneath him; darkness surged in upon him, and for an instant he knew not where he was or what he was about. But he flung himself back to life with a fierce effort, and began walking vigorously back and forth in front of his doorway. He knew that his sole hope of resisting the drug, if it was what he guessed, lay in constant action of body and mind.