"You must, Herman. I can go alone. What is my loneliness compared with that good man's life? Would you have the world irremediably impoverished because a girl like me must needs have an escort? Go, Herman," she ended imploringly, with a hand on either shoulder, as she looked up into her lover's face.
He sought to persuade her, but she was resolute.
"My beloved, go, and God go with you. Save the good man, for he will certainly die if Cochlaeus lays hands on him. And in that case I shall never again know any happiness."
She wound her arms about his neck, and kissed him. But then she waited no more. When she disengaged herself from Herman's arms she turned away and hurried to the cavern's entrance. Before he quite knew what she meant to do she was on her way, and all that he could hear was the sound of light but hurried footsteps. He followed and called after her, but no answer came. He went to the entrance of the cavern and peered in, but saw nothing, nor did he now hear a sound, save the echo of his own voice when he mentioned her name.
He thought she had taken her courage in her hand, doing so in desperation, and knowing the place by this time, she must be making her way towards his home. Perhaps by this time she was close on the chamber where Tyndale had been hiding.
With this conviction he turned away, bent on overtaking and out-distancing the fiery-spirited Inquisitor.
He did not know that when Margaret had gone from him, her courage failed her as she thought of the place where those grim skeletons were lying. She was afraid to venture. She shivered at the thought; for, although she knew of the lantern, ready to be lit with the tinder-box at hand, she felt that she could not go through the cavern by herself. Rather than do that she would stay the long night near the river, taking whatever risks there were; for what men might threaten did not seem so terrible as the confrontation with that solemn silence which spoke so awesomely of a tragedy of bygone years.
At the entrance to the cavern her courage was still less, so that she crouched in the darkness of the bush and waited. She was wanting some sign that Herman was on his way, but instead she heard his feet thud on the grass not far away, as though he was following her. Then she heard his quick breathing, and marked how he halted. Although she could not see him, since, like herself, he was in the black shadows of the bush, she guessed what he was doing—that he was bending down to peer into the cavern.
His call came, but she remained still, scarcely breathing lest he should hear her. Then, when she found it so hard to be silent that she must betray herself, he went away.
She came from behind the bush, but could not see him. She could only hear his footsteps growing less and less distinct. He was going swiftly to make up for lost time, and she was relieved.