“I’m to run away, then, while you, my lad, are to be delivered up to death?”
“Perhaps,” he dubiously said; “but then I am the least to be considered.”
“Then I intend to do nothing of the sort,” says I. “’Tis like man’s vanity to cast himself for the part of hero. But I think I can strut through that part just as handsomely as you.”
“You have your reputation, madam, to consider,” he reminded me. “They surely must not find you here.”
“A fig for reputation and her dowager proprieties. Am I not a law unto myself?”
This was a simulated flippancy, however, for we were in a grievous situation now. But the desperation of it spurred me, and very soon I found a plan by which the fugitive might after all go free. It called for a pretty daring act, and much kind fortune in its execution. Adventure nothing, nothing win, is however the device by which I am only too prone to order my behaviour. For even granting that your effort fails, the excitement it engenders is something of a compensation.
Briefly, my stratagem was this. I would exchange cloaks with the rebel, muffling my form up thoroughly in his military article, and don his three-cornered hat in lieu of the hood I wore. Thus arrayed, ’twas not too much to think that when his enemies caught a view of me in the uncertain moonlight, and expecting to see the prisoner there and at that season, they would mistake me for him. In an undertone that admitted of no parley I caused the prisoner to effect this alteration in his attire, and having done so speedily, I gave him further of my plan.
“My lad,” says I, “let us drop that truss of straw down, as you said, but we must take care that none of them see us do so. I am then to fall upon it, and having done so safely, shall contrive to advertise them of the fact. And when they run forth to seize me I shall flee hot foot across the park. They will, of course, pursue. Then, sir, will be your time. While we are having our diversion in the grass, the path will be open for your flight into the house. You will find one of the kitchen bolts unslipped, and on my return I shall expect to then discover you awaiting further orders.”
“’Tis a sweet invention, madam,” he replied, “but how shall you fare when they catch you and your identity is known?”
“The chances are,” I answered stoutly, “that they will not catch me. A thick wood infringes on the path a quarter of a mile away. If I once reach that, and I think I can, for these men are dogweary and I shall have a start of them, I’ll wager that I am not ta’en. For I could traverse every inch of that wood in the darkest night.”