"That will I tell thee anon, dear love. Dost thou not know that love will ever find out the way?" She spoke in low, whispering tones, and he followed her example, guessing well the need for caution and secrecy. "Thou hast friends without these prison walls, and thy friends are working for thee. Nevertheless thy case is somewhat perilous; and if thou canst not make good thy flight, there are grave fears for thy life, since there be many to swear thee guilty of the crime, and both Constable and Chancellor are greatly resolved to make an example of any disturber of the peace, be he citizen or clerk." "What then shall I do?" asked Hugh. "Listen, beloved," she answered. "How I have got access to this place I will tell another time, for we may not linger here. But I have brought to thee the habit of a monk. I am likewise attired in cowl and gown. Once free of this prison, we can walk the city streets without fear; for the good friars of St. Francis go about their works of piety and charity by night as well as by day. Only we must not linger in the city, but must flee forth ere thine escape is discovered; for there will be hue and cry after thee, since thou hast at least two vindictive enemies, who are sworn to thy destruction--and to mine undoing!" She shivered as she spoke, and Hugh muttered something between his teeth. He had been about to say that he would take her back at once to her aunt at Eynsham; but these last words seemed to show that she would not now be safe there. "Are they molesting thee, sweetheart?" he asked. "It is that evil Roger de Horn again," she said, with a slight tremor in her voice; "he has come back under another name. It is he who is the disturber of the city's peace. He has found me out, and I am no longer safe with mine aunt. If thou art in danger, beloved, so am I. Can we not both seek safety in flight?" "Yes, if thou wilt marry me, so soon as we can find some holy man to join our hands in wedlock!" cried Hugh eagerly. "Then will I carry thee to my father's house, and I will seek to win my spurs in the service of King or Prince, whilst thou at home dost play a daughter's part to my sweet mother, who will, I trow, receive thee with open arms, when she shall know what thou hast done and dared for my sake." All this had been spoken in rapid whispers, and now Hugh hastily donned the monkish garment, which was in fact the habit of a Franciscan friar, and entirely covered his whole person. The cowl was drawn over his head, and he was completely disguised, although in the pitchy darkness they could see nothing, and had to trust to the sense of touch. Then the soft hands guided him down the narrow stairs--he had discarded his foot gear the better to personate a friar--his companion softly locked the door behind him, and the pair glided down and unfastened the outer door which opened upon the street.