But half mad with terror and misery, scornful, defiant, she turned on him.
"Your honour!" she said, with infinite contempt.
But in her inmost heart she murmured in agonised despair,—
"What's to be done? Oh, God, protect him!"
"Stand back, John Stich," repeated the Sergeant, for the third time, "or I give my men the order to charge. Now then, my men!"
"Ye shall not pass!" was the smith's persistent, obstinate answer to the challenge.
"Forward!" shouted the soldier in a loud voice. "Into it, my men! Use your bayonets if anyone interferes with ye!"
The soldiers, nothing loth, were ready for the attack: there had already been too much parleying to suit their taste. They had been baffled too often in the last few days to be in the mood to dally with a woman, be she her ladyship or no.
With a loud cry they made a dash for the stairway, which behind Stich and Lady Patience lost itself in the gloom above.
And it was from out this darkness that at this moment a light-hearted, fresh young voice struck upon the astonished ears of all those present.