d behind it, since
it stood forward from the wall, was a most convenient place for a spy.
The concealed listener came into the middle of the room. Her face
worked with conflicting emotions. She stood for a minute, as it were,
fighting out a battle with herself. At length she clenched her hand as
if the decision were reached, and said aloud and passionately, "I will
not!" That conclusion arrived at, she went hastily but softly out of
the room, and closed the door noiselessly.

Mistress Grena was very busy in her own room, secretly packing up such
articles as she had resolved to take in the event of her journey being
made. She had told Margery, the old housekeeper, that she was going to
be engaged, and did not wish to be disturbed. If any visitors came
Mistress Gertrude could entertain them; and she desired Margery to
transmit her commands to that effect to the young lady. That Gertrude
herself would interrupt her she had very little fear. They had few
tastes and ideas in common. Gertrude would spend the afternoon in the
parlour with her embroidery or her virginals--the piano of that time--
and was not likely to come near her. This being the case, Mistress
Grena was startled and disturbed to hear a rap at her door. Trusting
that it was Mr Roberts who wanted her, and who was the only likely
person, she went to open it.

"May I come in, Aunt Grena?" said Gertrude.

For a moment Grena hesitated. Then she stepped back and let her niece
enter. Her quick, quiet eyes discerned that something was the matter.
This was a new Gertrude at her door, a grave, troubled Gertrude, brought
there by something of more importance than usual.

"Well, niece, what is it?"

"Aunt Grena, give me leave for once to speak freely."

"So do, my dear maid."

"You and my father are talking of escape to Shardeford, but you scarce
know whether to go or no. Let me tell you, and trust me, for my
knowledge is costly matter. Let us go."

Grena stood in amazed consternation. She had said and believed that God
would show them what to do, but the very last person in her world
through whose lips she expected Him to speak was Gertrude Roberts.

"How--what--who told you? an angel?" she gasped incoherently.

A laugh, short and unmirthful, was the answer.

"Truly, no," said Gertrude. "It was a fallen angel if it were."

"What mean you, niece? This is passing strange!" said Grena, in a
troubled tone.

"Aunt, I have a confession to make