His was certainly no enviable position, nor did his thoughts tend to increase his peace of mind. He recalled his previous uneasiness with regard to a tall grey-cowled monk, and could not but believe that the figure lurking in the doorway had been that of the same person as he had seen so often in the streets before or behind him. He remembered what Leofric had said as to a monk at Eynsham spying upon him there. A thrill of fear ran through his heart lest Linda should once more be endangered--and through him. And then, again, had not he seen that scarred and bearded face amid the rabble crowd that thronged and maltreated him? Had not that man, so often seen of late, been one of his foremost foes? He felt in a maze of perplexity and dread. Was he to be the victim of some new plot, which had for its object to separate him and his beloved? He paced his narrow cell hour after hour in mute misery and disquietude. When would he be brought to trial? When would his friends find him? He could hear the familiar sounds in the streets below. He could hear the sentries at the gate relieving one another. Why did nobody come near him? How long was he to be left thus? Gradually the hope of seeing any face (save that of the jailer) upon this day faded from Hugh's mind. The light began to flicker and grow dim. The prison chamber became dark as night. At last even the outline of the grating above his head became indistinguishable. Hugh, with a groan of disappointment and weariness, threw himself upon his sordid bed, and after a time found oblivion from his woes in sleep. How long he slept he knew not, but he was suddenly awakened by the sound of a stealthy movement outside the door. He started up and held his breath. Yes, he was certain of it. Somebody was outside, feeling over the walls and door as if in search of the fastening; and presently he heard a key softly fitted into the lock. His heart beat fast as he heard the door open and a soft rustle bespeak the entrance of some human intruder. Then followed a deep silence, broken by the sound of a voice--a voice which like new wine sent the blood coursing through the young man's veins. "Hugh--my beloved--art thou there?" "Linda!" he cried, in wild amaze, and the next moment had groped his way across the intervening space, and had encircled her with his arm--"Linda, my heart's joy! how comest thou here?" "Hush, dearest! speak low, lest we be heard. I have come to set thee free--to fly with thee beyond the reach of pursuit. Dearest, wilt thou trust thyself with me?" He pressed her hand to his lips. He thrilled from head to foot. But how had she come to him in this dread place? He was enwrapped by the sense of mystery. "Linda, sweetheart, how hast thou made thy way hither? Art thou a being angelic, to whom closed doors offer no obstacle? How hast thou penetrated hither?"