t freezing
hearts were theirs, and what terrible whispers passed between them?

"How armed?"

"Sword and dagger: and the giant with his axe. They call him the Abbot."

"And my comrade?"

"Nothing can save him. Better lose one life than two. Fly!"

Denys's blood froze at this cynical advice. "Poor creature, you know not
a soldier's heart."

He put his head in his hands a moment, and a hundred thoughts of dangers
baffled whirled through his brain.

"Listen, girl! There is one chance for our lives, if thou wilt but be
true to us. Run to the town; to the nearest tavern, and tell the first
soldier there, that a soldier here is sore beset, but armed, and his
life to be saved if they will but run. Then to the bailiff. But first
to the soldiers. Nay, not a word, but buss me, good lass, and fly! men's
lives hang on thy heels."

She kilted up her gown to run. He came round to the road with her, saw
her cross the road cringing with fear, then glide away, then turn into
an erect shadow, then melt away in the storm.

And now he must get to Gerard. But how? He had to run the gauntlet of
the whole band. He asked himself, what was the worst thing they could
do? for he had learned in war that an enemy does, not what you hope he
will do, but what you hope he will not do. "Attack me as I enter the
kitchen! Then I must not give them time."

Just as he drew near to the latch, a terrible thought crossed him.
"Suppose they had already dealt with Gerard. Why, then," thought he,
"nought is left but to kill, and be killed;" and he strung his bow, and
walked rapidly into the kitchen. There were seven hideous faces seated
round the fire, and the landlord pouring them out neat brandy, blood's
forerunner in every age.

"What? company!" cried Denys gaily; "one minute, my lads, and I'll be
with you;" and he snatched up a lighted candle off the table, opened the
door that led to the staircase, and went up it hallooing. "What, Gerard!
whither hast thou skulked to?" There was no answer. He hallooed louder,
"Gerard, where art thou?"

After a moment, in which Denys lived an hour of agony, a peevish,
half-inarticulate noise issued from the room at the head of the little
stairs. Denys burst in, and there was Gerard asleep.

"Thank God!" he said, in a choking voice, then began to sing loud,
untuneful ditties. Gerard put his fingers into his ears; but presently
he saw in Denys's face a horror that contrasted strangely with this
sudden merrimen