Now the tumult grew greater, and the reports of the rifles more frequent. The noise was communicated to the house, and in the rooms and the hall below there were tramplings of feet, and hurryings to and fro, and the rattle of arms, and the voices of men, in the midst of which rose the stern command of Girasole.
"Forward! Follow me!"
Then the distant reports grew nearer and yet nearer, and all the men rushed from the house, and their tramp was heard outside as they hurried away to the scene of conflict.
"It's an attack! The brigands are attacked!" cried Mrs. Willoughby.
Dacres said nothing. He was collecting his scattered thoughts.
"Oh, may Heaven grant that we may be saved! Oh, it is the troops—it must be! Oh, Sir, come, come; help us to escape! My darling sister is here. Save her!"
"Your sister?" cried Dacres.
"Oh yes; come, save her! My sister—my darling Minnie!"
With these words Mrs. Willoughby rushed from the room.
"Her sister! her sister!" repeated Dacres—"Minnie Fay! Her sister! Good Lord! What a most infernal ass I've been making of myself this last month!"