"Magdalen!"
"My Lady Rosamond, is that you?" was the answer, in a joyful whisper. "I knew it—I felt you were here. But how have you got up there?"
"The question is, how I shall get down?" I said, with an odd inclination to laugh.
"Climb down by the ivy!" was the instant answer. "The main stem is on this side. 'Tis like a tree, and the wall is also rough. The distance is not great, even if you fall. But wait. Let them get to the midnight office, which is tolling even now."
I again lay down on the top of the tower, praying not so much in words as in will, for the strength and coolness needful. In a moment I heard the peal of the organ, and then Magdalen's voice, saying:
"Now—my Lady—now! Be cool and steady, there is no danger, thus far!"
Down I went, scrambling like a cat, and getting scratches and bruises the marks of which still remain. A high wind was blowing, with now and then a rush of rain, and our old mastiff in the garden was baying the moon in his usual dolorous fashion. I have many a time wished him hanged for those musical vigils of his, but now I was glad of anything to make a little more noise. It seemed an age ere I reached the ground, and I did get a fall at last, but I was up and in Magdalen's arms in an instant.
"Now for our best speed of foot!" said she. "Give me two hours' leave, and then let them do their worst. Can you walk?"
"Yes, run, if need be!" I answered.
"Then hasten after me!"