“But—but it will be very hard to prove,” she said, hoarsely, almost defiantly.
“You have only to take oath,” he said, meaningly.
“I don't know the name or face of a person in that castle,” she said, deliberately. He was silent for a full minute.
“You intend to shield them?” he demanded. There was no answer to the question. Now she was positive that the man was no priest, but some one who knew the world and who had made it his business to trace her and her captors to the very gates of the castle. If he knew, then others must also be in possession of the secret.
“Who are you?” she demanded, as he drew her deeper into the wood. There was now the wild desire to escape from her rescuer and to fly back to the kindly jailers on the hill.
“A poor priest, by the grace of God,” he said, and she heard him chuckle.
“Take me back to the road, sir!” she commanded.
“I will take you to your mother,” he said, “and to no one else.”
“But I am afraid of you,” she exclaimed, her courage going. “I don't know you—I don't know where you are taking me.”
“We will not go far to-night. I know a place where you can hide until I secure help from the city.”