"Anthony!" she said, "what is it? Are you in danger?"
"They seek my life, dearest. It is forfeit. Never mind. Give me a kiss. We part in love."
"Anthony!" she clung to him. "Oh, Anthony! What does it all mean?"
"I cannot tell you now. I suppose it is over. Thank God for this kiss, my love—my love."
The soldiers were battering at the door; two were up at the hall window, ripping and smashing at the panes. But there was no possibility of getting in that way, as each light was protected by stout iron stanchions.
"By the Lord! Tony. I'll fasten the back-door!" shouted Gibbs. "Get out somehow—Urith! if you have wits, show him the trapway. Quick! not a moment is to be lost—whilst I bar the back-door." Solomon flew out of the hall.
"Come," said Urith. "Anthony! I will show you." She held his hand. She drew it to her, and pressed it to her bosom. It touched the broken token—and she had his half-token in her hand. "Anthony! when joined—to be again separate?"
They passed behind the main door, whilst the troopers thundered against it, pouring forth threats, oaths, and curses. They had drawn a great post from the barn over against the porch, and were driving this against the door. That door itself would stand any number of such blows, not so the hinges, or rather the granite jambs into which the iron crooks on which the hinges turned were let; as Anthony and Urith went by, a piece of granite started by the jar flew from its place, and fell at their feet. Another blow, and the crook would be driven in, and with it the upper portion of the door.
On the further side of the entrance passage, facing the door into the hall, was one that gave access to a room employed formerly as a buttery. In it were now empty casks, old saddles, and a variety of farm lumber, and, amongst them that cradle that Anthony had despised, the cradle in which Urith had been lulled to her infantine slumbers.
Urith thrust the cradle aside, stooped, lifted a trap-door in the wooden-planked floor, and disclosed steps.