“Keep your stitches whole, Cousin; if any skins are to be pricked it can’t be helped, and at least you won’t have to wipe up the mess. I am not going to run away from the man, more likely he will run away from me. I look well in this fine dress of yours, and I mean to wear it out. Now begone—begone, before some of them come to seek me. Don’t you grieve for me; I’ll lie in the bed that I have made, and if the worst comes to the worst, I have money in my pocket—or its worth—and we will meet again in England. Come, give my love and duty to Master Peter and your father, and if I should see them no more, bid them think kindly of Betty Dene, who was such a plague to them.”
Then, taking Margaret in her strong arms, she kissed her again and again, and fairly thrust her from the room.
But when they were gone, poor Betty sat down and cried a little, till she remembered that hot tears might melt the paint upon her face, and, drying them, went to the window and watched.
A while later, from her lofty niche, she saw six Moorish horsemen riding along the white road to the embattled gate. After them came two men and a woman, all splendidly mounted, also dressed as Moors, and then six other horsemen. They passed the gate which was opened for them and began to mount the slope beyond. At the crest of it the woman halted and, turning, waved a handkerchief. Betty answered the signal, and in another minute they had vanished, and she was alone.
Never did she spend a more weary afternoon. Two hours later, still watching at her window, she saw the Moorish escort return, and knew that all was well, and that by now, Margaret, her lover, and her father were safely started on their journey. So she had not risked her life in vain.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE HOLY HERMANDAD.
Down the long passages, through the great, fretted halls, across the cool marble courts, flitted Inez and Margaret. It was like a dream. They went through a room where women, idling or working at tapestries, looked at them curiously. Margaret heard one of them say to another:
“Why does the Dona Margaret’s cousin leave her?” And the answer, “Because she is in love with the marquis herself, and cannot bear to stay.”
“What a fool!” said the first woman. “She is good looking, and would only have had to wait a few weeks.”
They passed an open door, that of Morella’s own chambers. Within it he stood and watched them go by. When they were opposite to him some doubt or idea seemed to strike his mind, for he looked at them keenly, stepped forward, then, thinking better of it, or perhaps remembering Betty’s bitter tongue, halted and turned aside. That danger had gone by!