ays.

Lord Baxby's long and reposeful breathings in his comfortable bed vexed
her now, and she came to a determination on an impulse. Hastily lighting
a taper, she wrote on a scrap of paper:

'_Blood is thicker than water_, _dear William--I will come_;' and with
this in her hand, she went to the door of the room, and out upon the
stairs; on second thoughts turning back for a moment, to put on her
husband's hat and cloak--not the one he was daily wearing--that if seen
in the twilight she might at a casual glance appear as some lad or hanger-
on of one of the household women; thus accoutred she descended a flight
of circular stairs, at the bottom of which was a door opening upon the
terrace towards the west, in the direction of her brother's position. Her
object was to slip out without the sentry seeing her, get to the stables,
arouse one of the varlets, and send him ahead of her along the highway
with the note to warn her brother of her approach, to throw in her lot
with his.

She was still in the shadow of the wall on the west terrace, waiting for
the sentinel to be quite out of the way, when her ears were greeted by a
voice, saying, from the adjoining shade--

'Here I be!'

The tones were the tones of a woman. Lady Baxby made no reply, and stood
close to the wall.

'My Lord Baxby,' the voice continued; and she could recognize in it the
local accent of some girl from the little town of Sherton, close at hand.
'I be tired of waiting, my dear Lord Baxby! I was afeard you would never
come!'

Lady Baxby flushed hot to her toes.

'How the wench loves him!' she said to herself, reasoning from the tones
of the voice, which were plaintive and sweet and tender as a bird's. She
changed from the home-hating truant to the strategic wife in one moment.

'Hist!' she said.

'My lord, you told me ten o'clock, and 'tis near twelve now,' continues
the other. 'How could ye keep me waiting so if you love me as you said?
I should have stuck to my lover in the Parliament troops if it had not
been for thee, my dear lord!'

There was not the least doubt that Lady Baxby had been mistaken for her
husband by this intriguing damsel. Here was a pretty underhand business!
Here were sly manoeuvrings! Here was faithlessness! Here was a precious
assignation surprised in the midst! Her wicked husband, whom till this
very moment she had ever deemed the soul of good faith--how could he!

Lady Baxby precipitately retreated to the d