It was pitch dark without. He had been dozing on his pallet; but some cessation in the sentries’ monotonous tramp across the landing, to and fro, brought him wide awake. The door opened, and shut again. Something was in the room. He listened curious.
“Cherry!” whispered a voice.
He was on his feet on the instant. The shock had half unnerved him. He stood straining his eyes, his elbows crooked, his heart hammering.
“Who are you?” he muttered.
He heard her panting softly—weeping. Then he knew it was she. He made a mad effort to compose himself—to stand up in the breach this sudden ghost had torn in his defences. The voice sighed on,—
“O, love! don’t you know me? Cherry, I have come to save you.”
“Not you?”
He could not help his tone—would not, if he could.
She gave a little very bitter cry.
“Hush! speak low! She sent me.”