ot known. But the beacons had blazed; and
the market-place of Derby had echoed with the tramp of the train-bands;
and it was not likely that at such a time the attention of the
magistrates would be given to anything else.

So her plans were laid. Mr. Alban was to come here for three or four
days; be provided with a complete change of clothes (all of which she
had ready); shave off his beard; and then set out again for the border.
He had best go to Staffordshire, she thought, for a month or two, before
beginning once more in his own county.

* * * * *

She went to bed that night, happy enough, in spite of the cause, which
she loved so much, seeming to fail everywhere. It was true that, under
this last catastrophe, great numbers had succumbed; but she hoped that
this would be but for a time. Let but a few more priests come from
Rheims to join the company that had lost so heavily, and all would be
well again. So she said to herself: she did not allow even in her own
soul that the security of her friend and the thought that he would be
with her in a day or two, had any great part in her satisfaction.

* * * * *

She awaked suddenly. At the moment she did not know what time it was or
how long she had slept; but it was still dark and deathly still. Yet she
could have sworn that she had heard her name called. The rushlight was
burned out; but in the summer night she could still make out the outline
of Mistress Alice's bed. Yet all was still there, except for the gentle
breathing: it could not have been she who had called out in her sleep,
or she would surely show some signs of restlessness.

She sat up listening; but there was not a sound. She lay down again; and
the strange fancy seized her that it had been her mother's voice that
she had heard.... It was in this room that her mother had died.... Again
she sat up and looked round. All was quiet as before: the tall press at
the foot of her bed glimmered here and there with lines and points of
starlight.

Then, as again she began to lie down, there came the signal for which
her heart was expectant, though her mind knew nothing of its coming. It
was a clear rap, as of a pebble against the glass.

She was up and out of bed in a moment, and was peering out under the
thick arch of the little window. And a figure stood there, bending, it
seemed, for another pebble; in the very place where she had seen it, she
tho