It was but to return to the gateway; communicate with the guard; and conduct them to the verandah.
All this was done in the shortest space of time; but, short as it was, during the interval, the lovers had spoken their parting word, and hastily separated.
Just as Holtspur leaped down into the ditch, half-a-dozen cuirassiers, headed by a woman, were seen hurrying around the angle of the building towards its western façade.
As they spoke only in low mutterings, and advanced with stealthy steps, it was evident they expected to surprise the lovers, on the spot they had so recently quitted. The woman, keeping in the lead, appeared to direct their movements.
The rain, which had now ceased to fall, had been succeeded by a clearing of the sky, and the interior of the verandah could be viewed from end to end. There was no one inside it!
The cuirassiers scanned the gallery with looks of disappointment.
“He’s not here! not a sign of him,” said one whose voice, from its altered and lugubrious tones, could with difficulty be recognised as that of the outwitted sentinel. “Oh Lord! what’ll become of me, if he’s got off.”
Turning to the woman, he appeared to make some appeal to her in an undertone.
“If he’s gone from here,” answered she, speaking in a voice that betrayed deep emotion, “it isn’t a minute ago. Oh! I wish you had found him, and her too—how glad I’d be to have her exposed—the proud—saucy dame?”
“Who are you speakin’ about? Is it the lady in velvet?”