“Yes, yes, I knew you would come,” he heard her say, and then followed the welcome rattle of the bolts. But they must be speedily drawn if they were to clear the way for a man hard pressed. Over the barricade surged a wave of pikemen, twoscore or more, the mounted colonel behind them, urging them on with pungent oaths.
“Sanctuary! Sanctuary!” shouted Armstrong, raising his sword aloft, standing under the arched doorway, steadfast as one of the stone knights beside him.
“Sanctuary be damned!” cried the colonel, urging his horse up the embankment. “Down on him, you dogs, and take him dead or alive!”
In spite of the cursing of the colonel; in spite of the battered condition of the great church; in spite of the deadening influence of the war, the cry of “Sanctuary” struck home to many of the hearts there opposed to the fugitive, and the pike-topped crest of the human wave paused for one brief instant, yet it was enough. Before the wave broke and fell, the small door gave and swung inward. As the pikes rattled against it, Armstrong had the bars and bolts in their places again.
“Break down that door!” he heard the colonel roar outside, while the impetuous William clasped the girl in his arms and kissed her.
“Lord, lassie, I’m glad to meet you again, although it’s just dark enough in this place for the seeing of any one.”
The young woman shook herself free.
“We wasted too much time at that before. Let it be a lesson to us. This place is a stable. Our horses are well fed, and the saddles are still on them.”
“But is there a way out?”
“Yes, a small door in the northeast corner. Come.”