Lady Gowan blew out the light, and Frank quickly drew the heavy curtain aside, and uttered a groan, for the garden was full of armed men, dimly seen in the gloom amid the shrubs.
“Trapped, Frank,” said Sir Robert quietly, the danger having made the soldier cool.
Lady Gowan uttered a faint, despairing cry.
“Hush, dear!” said Sir Robert firmly. “Be a woman—my wife. I may escape yet. See Berry, and keep her from opening the door, no matter what they say or do.”
“Yes, yes,” said Lady Gowan excitedly; “but, Robert, what will you do?”
“Escape, if you help me. Now be calm. Let them break in, and when they do face them. You were alarmed, and did not know what evil was abroad. You need no excuse for refusing to have your house—and it is your house—opened to a riotous party of drunken soldiers for aught you know. Now go down. Do anything you can to gain time for me. Heaven bless you, darling, till we meet again!”
Lady Gowan’s answer was to hurry out on the staircase, where the place was echoing to the resounding knocks and orders to open in the King’s name. She was just in time to seize the old housekeeper by the arm, while a hysterical crying came from the maid below.
“Oh, my lady, my lady! They’re going to break in. I was about to unfasten the door.”
“Silence! Touch it at your peril,” cried Lady Gowan imperatively. “Let them break in if they dare. Go below to that foolish, sobbing girl, and stay there keeping her quiet.”
“But they’ll break down the door, my lady.”