Press, closet, and chimney—nay, even the space beneath the bed—were swiftly tried in my mind, and discarded as harborage too little secure to shelter what in all the world I did best love. But at last the thought came, and with it I was no longer a maid shaking at approach of danger, but a general with a device of strategy that should repel the invader.
"Ned," I said, low and sharp, "will you do what I bid?"
"Ay, sweetheart—mistress, I would say," he replied, and in all my passion of fear and purpose of action I marvelled, as I had done since he came under my window, why he would ever style me mistress.
Now, while we spoke beneath our breath, I had tied my handkerchief over his head, and knotted it under his chin. Then I pushed him to the side of the bed that was farther from the door, guiding him with my hands, and bidding him lie down while I should pull the covers over him. But, "Nay, that will I not," he said, with a perilous raising of the voice. "Had rather swing than save my neck by these means." And I, in despair, did clap my hand over his mouth, and said with great fury of passion I scarce knew what, and beat him with my fists, till he was sorry to see me so moved, and suffered me, of his old gentle kindness, to force him down, and, trembling, to drag blanket and quilt over him, which in the dark did so fall foul of sword-hilt and spur, that I had laughed had I not been heart-sick with the fear of his life. When he was covered I sat me upon his chest, and, as best I might in the dark, twisted his long curls, which, in the fashion of his father's youth, he would still wear in place of peruke (and I think there is not a beau in London that has a wig from Paris so fair as what grew on his dear head), into some sort of womanish knot to thrust up beneath the handkerchief that must serve for night-cap. The sitting on him was to keep him there till they began to knock at the door, when I knew the desire to shield my fame would keep him quiet to the end.
Heavy steps now drawing near, I spoke my last word to him: "When they come lie thus, with thy face from the door, and, prithee, Ned, breathe hard and heavily, as you were Betty after a great supper."
"Nay," said he, "I will not stay to play the fool like a mummer in a play-house."
"If you but so much as stir a finger," said I, "you will put me to open shame before the servants of the house and those wicked soldiers. I think you will not so use your old playmate, Ned."
And then, to set my heart beating yet more horribly, so that it seemed I should never be able to speak when the need came, the searchers reached our door and knocked upon it, yet, from something more of gentleness that was in this knocking than was used upon the door of my tutor, I gathered a little hope. At once I threw off my cloak and held my breath in eagerness of hearing all that passed without.
"I say my daughter lies in that chamber," said my father's voice, growing more clear as he limped painfully up the gallery after his unwelcome visitors. "She is sleeping, and it will serve no purpose to arouse her."
"That's my business," said a harsh voice in surly reply. "I will rouse whom I please, since I am master here."