“We know it, and that is enough,” replied Jeffreys. “They are known to have lain hid within your neighborhood; and we know they have been secreted by _you_; and now, by G—d, madam, unless you lead us to their kennel, your body shall writhe in flames, or be hacked in pieces by my soldiers!” “Infamous, cowardly wretch,” replied Alice Lisle, undaunted, “think you your threats would induce me to betray, more especially into your blood-thirsty hands, any unhappy individual who had sought my protection! Know Alice Lisle better.” “Ho-ho, are we so brave! here, my men, take this boasting mistress, and give her a dance upon hot coals!” cried the ferocious Jeffreys. At that instant little Edwin, still in his night-dress, opened the door of his little bed-room, and ran terrified toward the Lady Alice; but he was not permitted to reach her; a soldier rudely seized the poor boy by the shoulder, and notwithstanding his shrieks, held him with such a grip as left the print of his fingers upon the tender flesh. “Ruffian, unhand the child!” exclaimed the lady, attempting to rise, but held back by the iron hand of Jeffreys. “_Ha!_ a pretty hostage, truly!” he said. “Here, Ratcliffe, draw your dagger across his pretty white throat, unless this stubborn woman yields up our prey—do you hear that?” turning to the Lady Alice. “O save me—save me! don’t let them kill me!” screeched the poor little fellow, striving to break away; then turning his beautiful eyes upon the hard, stern features of the man who held him, he clung piteously around his knees, repeating his cry for mercy, his face uplifted, and his soft, golden curls falling over his white shoulders, from which the loose night-dress had slipped away. Tears, which neither her own danger, or the insults heaped upon her could draw forth, now streamed down the pallid cheek of the Lady Alice. “Are you men?” she cried, turning to the rude soldiers, “are you men, and can you stand by and see that innocent, helpless lamb inhumanly murdered before your eyes!” “Ah!” cried Jeffreys, with a hideous leer, “we are used to butchering lambs, madam; bless you, we do it so easy the poor things don’t have time to bleat! Strike, Ratcliffe!” A scream—a wild scream of agony burst from the heart of Alice Lisle; then dashing off the arm of Jeffreys, in the strength of her despair, as but a feather’s weight, she sprung to the boy, and threw her arms around him. There was heard at the moment a loud shout from the court-yard, coupled with oaths and imprecations, and one of the troop burst in, waving his cap. “Hurra, your honor! they’re caught, your worship; we’ve got the rascals—hurra! hurra!” “Now God help them!” murmured Alice. “Your life shall answer for this, vile traitress!” muttered Jeffreys, in a voice hoarse with rage, and shaking his fist at the unshrinking heroine. “But where found you the knaves?” he added, turning to the bearer of such fiendish joy.