“He says he has James More my father’s errand,” said she. She was whiter than ever, and her voice faltered as she said it.
“It is pretty plain now,” said I, “and may God forgive the wicked!”
She said never anything to that, but continued gazing at me with the same white face.
“This is a fine business,” said I again. “Am I to fall, then, and those two along with me?”
“Oh, what am I to do?” she cried. “Could I go against my father’s orders, and him in prison, in the danger of his life?”
“But perhaps we go too fast,” said I. “This may be a lie too. He may have no right orders; all may be contrived by Simon, and your father knowing nothing.”
She burst out weeping between the pair of us; and my heart smote me hard, for I thought this girl was in a dreadful situation.
“Here,” said I, “keep him but the one hour; and I’ll chance it, and say God bless you.”
She put out her hand to me. “I will be needing one good word,” she sobbed.
“The full hour, then?” said I, keeping her hand in mine. “Three lives of it, my lass!”