"Sir Edward Ingram," was the answer. "Harry! where is he? why did you not tell me?" "Nobody must know, Celia, except you and me--and, perhaps, Patient. But I would rather not tell even her if we can avoid it. Sir Edward is in hiding, having fled from Sheriffmuir, and a party of men have been riding him down, he says, since last night. They know he is somewhere in the neighborhood, and will most likely be here to search the house in an hour or less. I will readily risk my life for the man who saved it at Denain; and I know his sister will help me." "But where can we hide him?" faltered Celia. "Here," was Harry's short answer, opening the closet-door. "In the closet? O Harry! that is not safe enough. They would find him in a minute." "My dear little Celia, you don't know half the secrets of your own chamber. Look!" A touch of the secret spring caused the panel-door to spring outward, and Celia's eyes to open very wide indeed. "I never knew there was such a place!" she cried. "I believe no one knows but myself, and now, you. I discovered this room five years ago, but I did not wish to alarm you, for I had reason to believe it was then inhabited. 'Tis one of the old priests' hiding-holes. Now, watch how the door is opened, and then contrive as best you can to procure food for Sir Edward. He says he is well-nigh famished. While you are with him, I will go to the outlet, where a passage leads to the garden, and remove the logs which I put at the door five years since, as silently as I can. Make haste, every minute may be priceless." Celia ran down-stairs, feeling utterly bewildered by the position in which she was suddenly placed. Entering the larder, she possessed herself hastily of a large loaf and a jug of milk,--making some excuse--she scarcely knew what--to Patient, whom she found there; and discovered Harry and a lamp waiting for her at the closet-door. He had some carpenter's tools in the other hand. A hurried greeting was exchanged between Edward and Celia, who conversed in whispers until Harry returned, announcing that the passage was now open to the garden, and that, to avoid suspicion, both had better go down again to the parlor. "You must talk in the night," he said. Harry and Celia went back to the parlor. The latter sat down to her work, hardly seeing a stitch she set. They had not been down-stairs many minutes, when Lucy sprang up, triumphantly exclaiming that she had won the game; at the same moment the sound of horses' feet was audible outside, and a loud attack was made on the great bell which hung in front of the house. "Open to His Majesty's troops!" The cry could be distinctly heard in the parlor. "Goodness me!" gasped Madam Passmore, dropping her work in terror. The Squire had recourse to stronger language than this. Harry, whose composure seemed quite restored, went to the door and opened it with every appearance of haste.