"What, Peter!" exclaimed Cicely, astonished.
"Beggin' your ladyzhip's pardon, but 'twere last naight at the Royal Jaämes. A were there, a-talkin' o' Mistress Barbara i' gaol, and 'twere zaid, why couldn't her ezcaäpe? If it be but a matter o' boltz and barz, I be a zmith by traäde, and they be zoon broken. I would na interfere wi' king's justice i' the main, but vor Mistress Barbara, 'tiz but raight her be freed at once. And zo I be coom hither to do it."
"'Twas very kind of you, Peter," answered Cicely, repressing a smile; "but I fear it could not be done. You see there be sentinels guarding the prison. We could not elude them."
Peter's face fell; he scratched his head for some moments in dubious silence. Suddenly he slapped his leg in delight.
"A boggart!" he cried; "a boggart. 'Tis the very thing. I mind wull my vayther tull me that when a were clapped i' gaol over te Cannington vor—vor zome matter of stalin' a pig, brother skeered gaoler wi' a boggart and a coom awai. Now an thee wull be a boggart and skeer t'zentinels, I wull look to barz and boltz and Miztress Barbara will be vree by mud-naight."
Cicely gasped. She pictured herself dressed as a ghost, hopping about the streets of Taunton, a terror to the soldiery, while Peter in the meanwhile broke patiently thro' the bars that shut in Barbara from freedom. She broke into hysterical laughter. Peter was crestfallen at this reception of his plan.
"I zim to think of nought elze," he muttered disconsolately. "There be many weays o' ezcaäpe, Miztress Barbara herzell a told me, could I but bring un to maind. There have been zome as pazzed vor prizoners to let un ezcaäpe, but I could zcarce paz vor Mistress Barbara, and you, 'twere zmall good to vree her if your ladyship were left behaind. Then there be a taäl o' a mon let down i' a bazket, but I zee not raightly how to do that. And there be birds wi' paäpers under wings, and loaves o' bread wi' a rope inzaide. My waife could baäke one, if your ladyship thinks well on't. Tho' fai," he added doubtfully, "'twould need be a maighty big one."
But Cicely could not allow the loyal fellow further to tax his inventive powers, she knew it was indeed kinder at once to crush his hopes.
"No, Peter, it will not do. 'Tis true such plans have succeeded once, but they could little avail us now. We must wait. Wait till to-morrow, I doubt not she will then be freed. If she be not," she added with a sudden shudder, as the fear of the alternative rose in her breast, "why, Peter, if she be not, I will send for thee, and together we will free her somehow, tho' it cost us our lives."
Peter begged to be allowed to stay in Taunton till the morrow, but Cicely dared not risk it. She was firm in her resolution that he must return, and return at once, and at length he reluctantly departed, still mourning over his shattered dream of rescuing his beloved lady from her prison, and bearing her back to Durford in triumph, even as did the heroes of old whose deeds she so admired, and with stories of whom she had so often dazzled his bewildered brain.