fallen in.

"Heedless of the peril or the pain, he sprang once more at the opening,
and this time, how he knew not, succeeded in lifting himself into the
blazing apartment. Many a time had he been there before in happier
days.

"He rushed across to the door and out into the great hall of the castle.
Not a man was there to stop him. He heard voices and shouts outside,
but the castle seemed to have been left to its fate. There was yet
time, thought he, before the flames reached so far, to rush up to his
lady's room and save her.

"He sprang up the staircase. Halfway up he saw a figure before him,
ascending too. He called, and the man turned suddenly. Morgan knew him
in a moment. It was Fulke himself. The old Royalist, seeing himself
pursued by a soldier in the dress of a Roundhead, concluded the enemy
had already entered his castle, and with the fury of a desperate man,
drew his sword and threw himself upon the stranger. Morgan had no time
to hesitate. The delay of a moment might cost his lady her life.

"With a rapid pass of his sword, he struck Fulke across the arm, and as
the weapon dropped from the old soldier's hand, Morgan rushed past, on
towards the lady's chamber.

"Another obstacle still awaited him. This time it was a groom unarmed,
who encountered him. He too, defenceless as he was, sprang wildly upon
the intruder to dispute the passage. But Morgan put him by with the
flat of his sword and crying--

"`Look to your master below. I will see to the lady,' darted on.

"After that it was all like a dream. He was dimly conscious of rushing
down those steps shortly after, with a precious burden in his arms. How
he struggled through the smoke and fire, or how he kept his feet on that
tottering staircase, no one knows. It's enough to say he struggled
forward down the stairs and across the hall as far as the outer door,
where some one snatched his unharmed burden from his arms and carried
her to a place of safety, where already her father, tended by his
faithful servant, was recovering consciousness.

"The courtyard by this time was crowded with troopers, Royalist and
Roundhead, and above the roar of the flames and the crashing of falling
roofs there rose the report of guns and the clash of swords. Morgan,
half stunned and like a man in a dream, was standing propped up against
a tree a helpless spectator of the scene, when suddenly one of his own
men rushed up to him and saluted.

"`The colo