The man sank back. Quiet fell upon them, broken only by the sweep of the rain against the house and the fitful howling of the wind. Night deepened, and still the storm continued. The men disposed themselves about the hearth for their damp clothing made them chilly, and soon one after another fell into slumber, until, after a time, all were asleep. Then Dame Margery rose to her feet and tiptoeing to the small door opened it, and passed out of the room. Francis stood just within where she could hear everything that went on in the outer chamber. She came forward eagerly as the woman entered. "Mother," she cried, "those men must be detained here, but how? Canst thou help me?" "Child, I could make them sleep until the sun was high noon, but they are about the queen's business, and I durst not." "Good mother, tell me how, and let me do it," coaxed Francis. "I must get to my father. O, if you have ever had a loved one, for the sake of that one, give me the aid I ask. I am but a girl. Weak and helpless with the great queen and her ministers against me. Yet I must warn my father. O dame, I lack so little of being home. If I had a few hours more, just a few hours! Please, good mother,"--she paused, and flinging her arms around the woman's neck, she kissed her. Dame Margery's frame shook and she held the girl close. Then she whispered, stroking her hair softly: "My bonny maiden, thou shalt have thy wish. For that kiss I would give thee anything. It hath been years since Margery felt the touch of fresh young lips. Men fear me, and children shun me, but thou hast not. Once more, child." Gratefully Francis kissed her; not once but many times. Then the dame stole softly out, and the girl followed her. To a corner cupboard the old woman went, and taking out a phial that held some dark mixture she held it to the light for a second and shook it gently. Then with that marvelous agility that had caused Francis to wonder earlier in the evening she glided among the sleeping men and let fall a tiny drop of the decoction near the nostrils of each slumberer. A sweet odor filled the room so subtle and penetrating that the girl beat a hasty retreat into the smaller chamber, fearing that she too might be overcome by it. "Come, child," called Margery. "They sleep as slept the seven sleepers of long ago. And so they will sleep until the dawn. I dare not give them more for fear of death. And they are the queen's men. Thou wilt have to hasten, child. With these few hours' advantage thou shouldst reach thy father in time. The storm hath broken. Now thou must away." The storm had indeed passed. The rain still fell, but gently. In the west a few stars peeped between the rifts in the clouds. "How can I ever repay thee?" whispered Francis embracing the dame warmly. "Heaven bless thee, mother. Farewell!" "Farewell. Fear naught. Trust to the guidance of thy horse and this lanthorne. The night is dark, but the dawn comes early. Ride now for thy life, girl. Farewell."