A STRANGER AT THE FORGE
In the meanwhile Lady Patience, with Betty by her side, had been walking towards the forge as rapidly as the state of the road permitted.
A sudden turn of the path brought her within sight of the cross-ways and of the old gallows, on which a fragment of rain-spattered rag still fluttered ghostlike in the wind.
But here, within a few yards of her goal, she stopped suddenly, with eyes dilated, and hands pressed convulsively to her heart, in an agony of terror. Walking quickly on the road from Wirksworth towards Stich's cottage were some half-dozen red-coated figures, the foremost man amongst them wearing three stripes upon his sleeve.
Soldiers with a sergeant at the forge! What could it mean but awful peril for the fugitive?
Her halt had been but momentary, the next instant she was flying down the pathway closely followed by Betty, and had reached the shed just as the soldiers were skirting the cottage towards it.
She glanced within, and gave a quick sigh of relief: there was no sign of her brother, and John was busy at his anvil.
Already the smith had caught sight of her.
"Hush!" he whispered reassuringly, "have no fear, my lady. I've had soldiers here before."
"But they'll recognise me, perhaps ... or guess..."