"I am indeed his wife," said Maisie, with just pride; "what of him?"
"I am bidden to say that he urgently requires your presence at the guard-house."
Maisie felt all the warm blood ebb from about her heart. But she only bit her lip, and set her hand hard over her breast.
"He is ill—he is dead!" she panted, scarcely knowing what she said.
"Nay," said the man, "not ill, and not dead. But he sends you word that he needs you urgently."
"You swear to me that he is not dead?" she said, seizing him fiercely by the wet cuff of his coat. For the man had laid his hand upon the edge of the wind-blown door to keep it steady as he talked, or perhaps in fear lest it should be shut in his face before his errand was accomplished.
Without waiting for another word besides the man's reiterated assurance, Maisie fled up-stairs, and telling Kate briefly that her husband needed her and had sent for her to the guard-room, she thrust a sheathed dagger into her bosom, and ran back down to the outer door.
"Bide a moment, and I will come with you!" cried Kate, after her.
"No, no," answered Maisie, "stay you and keep the house. I shall not be long away. Keep the water hot against William's return."
So saying, she shut the outer door carefully behind her, and hurried into the night.