he
door of the trap just as he reached it.

"Speak not a word," she said in his ear, as he set his foot on the
ladder, "but fasten the hook lest they discover that the door has been
opened. Now, give me your hand," and in the darkness the strong, manly
hand closed firmly over her dainty fingers with a clasp which, strangely
enough, inspired her with fresh courage.

"Stop," said Betty suddenly, as they were at the top stair, "you must
remove your boots: the slightest creak might wake the sleepers at the
end of the hall."

It took but a second of time to follow her directions; and then very
softly, with many pauses, the pair crept down the winding stairs, and
Betty involuntarily held her breath until the last step was safely
passed and she raised the latch of the buttery door.

"If Miss Bidwell has locked it," came the swift thought,--but, no! like
everything else that dreadful night, fortune seemed to favor Betty, and
with a long-drawn sigh she drew her companion across the threshold and
instantly shot the bolt behind her.

A faint glow of dawn crept through the pantry windows, and Betty paused
a moment and regarded the rows of milk pans which adorned the shelves
of the small room with grave intentness.

"Had you not better take a glass of milk?" she said. "You may have to
travel far without food, although I am sure that should you ask for it
at any of our Connecticut farmhouses you would be cheerfully supplied,"
and raising the neat dipper she filled it and handed it to Geoffrey, who
took it gratefully from her hand.

"And now put on your boots, for freedom lies beyond that door," she
said, still in softest tones, as she unbolted the other door which led
directly outside. "I must go with you as far as the barn, for you will
need my mare to take you out of danger of pursuit."

"No, no," answered Geoffrey, speaking for the first time as they sped
rapidly over the grass, "I will not take her; you have dared much for
me, and I fear censure and harm may come to you for releasing me should
you be discovered."

"Censure," said Betty, throwing back her small head haughtily,
"wherefore? Do you think I shall conceal my share in this night's work?
Oliver is but a hot-headed boy; had my father been at home it would have
been different, and to him I shall make my confession, that I have
given liberty to--oh, I cannot say a foe, after what you have done for
me--to a British officer who comes to slay my countrymen!"

"Nev