“Trust me to guard her,” rejoined Dame Potentia. “I know what these court-gallants are. They will venture anything, and contrive anything, when a pretty girl is concerned. But what has happened to the esquire?”
“He is safe for the present,” answered Nightgall, significantly.
Cicely, meantime, had availed herself of their conversation, to whisper a few words to Xit.
“Take this ring,” she said, placing the ornament given her by her lover, in the hands of the dwarf, “and fly to the palace. Show it to Lord Guilford Dudley, and say that the wearer is imprisoned in the dungeons beneath the Devilin Tower. Assistance must be speedily rendered, as he is ordered for immediate and secret execution. Do you understand?”
“Most precisely, lovely damsel,” replied Xit, kissing her hand, as he took the ring; “and I guess the name and condition of the prisoner, as well as the nature of the interest you take in him.”
“Fly!” interrupted Cicely. “Not a moment is to be lost. You shall be well rewarded for your trouble.”
“I desire no higher reward than your thanks, adorable maiden,” replied Xit. “Your behests shall be punctually obeyed.” So saying, he disappeared.
“Come, young mistress,” cried Dame Potentia, seizing her adoptive daughter’s arm, “you must to your chamber. You have led me and your father, and these worthy warders, a pretty dance. But you shall lead us all where you list, if I let you out of my sight in future.”
And thanking the giants, who had looked on in speechless astonishment, she dragged Cicely along with her.
“Remember!” whispered Nightgall, as he walked a few paces by the side of the latter.