“It is so,” she replied. “I ought to have told you all this long ago—but hesitated from a silly fear, till my heart had become so burdened that I dared not speak. But now I felt that the confession must not be delayed, or it might never be made. Can you forgive me?”
“Come to my heart!” he cried, straining her to his breast.
IX.—THE FORD.
M idnight had come. Very dark was the night, and favourable to the purpose of those who sought to fly from the beleaguered town. The fires in the burning houses were nearly extinguished, but the course of the conflagration could still be traced by a red glow along the street.
The two large houses, now in the hands of the king's forces, were no longer illuminated, but looked sombre and threatening—the approaches to them in front and at the rear being strongly guarded.
The church-tower could be indistinctly seen in the gloom, and a close survey of the churchyard would have shown that it was filled with troops who were resting on their arms, to be ready for action at break of day.
The barrier in this quarter was strongly guarded by the Highlanders, many of whom were lying on their plaids beside the trenches while their comrades kept watch.
Throughout the town it was the same thing.