She rose to her feet; the noises, the shouts and the steady tramping were coming nearer.
“And I have done this,” whispered Delia. “What did you mean—true to neither love nor hate?”
“Look into your heart,” he answered. “Was it love that made you pull me down—was it hate that sent you here to-night?”
She caught at the chair with cold fingers.
“I have made my affections stronger than my love—I have put honor and loyalty above my heart—and I came to-night because my soul turned weak as water to think of your death.”
She paused; her breathing came with difficulty.
“Will you not go, Lord Stair?”
He had gone toward the window; a vast crowd were gathering without, the red light of torches flickered across the courtyard, and threw into view faces here and there in the sea of people.
The door was suddenly burst open and the solitary servant rushed in.
“My lord, my lord! they are certainly going to destroy us! They have gunpowder with them.”