A strange warmth glowed in the captain's soul. Lost in his thoughts, he passed out to the gallery as soon as he was dressed. It was a wide, airy gallery, with doors along the sides, and a window at each end. In one of the windows sat a figure, which rose the instant he appeared. It was Millicent. For a second he paused, fearing she would meet him with her old scorn, or flee down the stairs. But she stood motionless, returning his look with some timidity, blushing and pensive.
"So," said he, quietly, "you would not come if I were left."
"I was much your debtor," she faltered.
"And you, watching here, heard me stirring, and sent the manservant?"
"Why, I was watching here," she replied, confusedly, "lest my father should come unawares. We were seen and followed, Master Holyday and I, and my uncle thinks my father would go first to Master Holyday's house, and then come hither. But let him come what way he will, I can see him afar from this window."
"And how if you see him?"
"There is an old chest in my aunt's chamber that my uncle hath made ready, with holes bored in it for air. They will lock me in, and feign that the key is lost, and that the chest hath not been opened this year."
"Your uncle hath stood your friend indeed in this."
"Yes, he and—others,—more than I deserve. My uncle is no coward, in truth,—save to his wife, and when he is in London against her will and knowledge." She smiled faintly.