Not so the Lady Alice. True, these men had not revealed their names, neither had she sought to discover who they were, or for what crime they were driven to their present strait—yet that they fled the wrath of the cruel-minded Jeffreys she felt persuaded, and fearful that with his myrmidons he might be close on the track of these unhappy men, she, too, sat watching all the night, or pacing with light footfall the long galleries, ever and anon stepping out upon the balcony and listening to every sound, her fears magnifying the whispers of the wind stealing through the branches of the old trees, into the suppressed murmurs of an armed force. All, however, remained quiet. Just as the day began to dawn, she threw herself upon her couch—not meaning to sleep. But, overcome with the fatigue of her lonely night-watch, and lulled perhaps by the security which almost always comes to the watcher with the dawn of day, she soon unconsciously sunk into a deep sleep, from which, alas! she was but too rudely aroused; for even in that brief half hour when tired nature claimed its own, the wily Jeffreys had surrounded the house with his no less brutal soldiers. “Come, come, madam, bestir yourself—you are wanted,” cried the leader, seizing the Lady Alice by the shoulder, and rudely shaking her; “methinks you sleep well this morning—long watching makes sound slumbers, _eh_! Come, up with you, woman, and tell us in what corner of this rebel’s nest you have stowed away the Presbyterian knave and his worthy friend?” In a moment the lady was fully awake, and comprehended at once her perilous situation. But her self-possession did not forsake her, and breathing an inward prayer for the safety of the two unhappy men so closely pursued, she said, as she drew herself proudly up, “What means this unmannerly intrusion? Off, sir! unhand me, or your audacity shall be punished as it deserves!” “Ho-ho, my brave wench, words are cheap! you will find proofs not so easy! Know, mistress, yourself and your servants are my prisoners,” replied Jeffreys. “_Your_ prisoners!” cried the lady, with cutting contempt; “and who are _you_, and by whose authority do you dare to lay hands on me or any beneath my roof!” “Who am I? That you shall soon know to your cost,” said Jeffreys, with a horrible oath. “George Jeffreys has a peculiar way of making himself known, my mistress. Now deliver up these two arch rebels—the canting, whining priest, and the traitor Nelthorpe, into our hands, and mayhap I’ll not press my further acquaintance upon your ladyship, except to taste the quality of your wine, for I’ll warrant you, my men, (turning to his followers) these old cellars are not dry.” “I know no such persons as those you seek,” replied the Lady Alice, firmly; “and what reason have you to suppose they are within my house?”