There the two friends sat; Mr. Buxton could just hear the movement of Anthony’s mouth as he ate. The four windows glimmered palely before them, and once or twice the tall doors rattled faintly as the breeze stirred them.
Then suddenly came a sound that made Anthony’s hand pause on the way to his mouth; Mr. Buxton drew a sharp breath; it was the noise of three or four horses on the road beyond the church. Then they both stood up without a word, and Mr. Buxton went noiselessly across to the window that looked on to the lane and remained there, listening. The horses were now passing down the street, and the noise of their hoofs grew fainter behind the houses.
Anthony saw his friend in the twilight beckon, and he went across and stood by him. Suddenly the hoofs sounded loud and near; and they heard the pursuivant below stand up from the bank opposite. Then Mary’s voice came distinct and cheerful.
“How dark it is!”
The horses were coming down the lane.
THE NIGHT-RIDE
The sound of hoofs came nearer; Anthony’s heart, as he crouched below the window, ready to spring up and over when the signal was given, beat in sick thumpings at the base of his throat, but with a fierce excitement and no fear. His hands clenched and unclenched. Mr. Buxton stood back a little, waiting; he must feign to be asleep at first.
Then came suddenly a sharp challenge from the sentry.
“It is Mistress Corbet,” came Mary’s cool high tones, “and I desire to speak with Mr. Buxton.”