"Nay; I cannot. Thou art but a girl, and the risk would be too great. I have the freedom of this inner ward, but there still remains the outer ward and the moat, which, as thou knowest, is on all sides of the Tower, and on the south there is the Thames also. The hazard would be too great." "Nay, nay," pleaded Francis, her soul on fire at the mere mention of escape. "Do take me." "But what couldst thou do even were we to succeed?" demanded Devereaux. "Where couldst thou go?" "To my father in France," replied Francis. "Nay; but"--began Devereaux again when the girl caught his hand and held it tightly with her own. "I will not let thee go until thou dost consent," she cried with some of her old wilfulness. "Oh, Edward, do say yes." Devereaux looked at her thin hands, her face so pale and worn, so different from its former sauciness, and all the chivalry of his nature rose up. "When thou dost speak so, Francis," he said gently, "I can deny thee nothing." "And thou wilt?" cried she with shining eyes. "Yea, Francis; but consider well the danger. If we fail it may mean death." "We will not fail," declared the girl with positiveness. "If we do, is not death better than imprisonment? I promise that I will kill at least one Spaniard." "I will hold thee to that vow," laughed Devereaux. "But thy woman comes, Francis. I will inform thee of the plan when I fix on one. Fare you well." "Fare you well," returned Francis. "Thine enemy's converse hath done thee good," commented Mrs. Shelton waggishly on their return to the upper chamber of the Bell Tower. Francis looked at her a moment and then said with dignity: "I had forgot that he was mine enemy, mistress. Besides, I may have been somewhat unmannerly in my treatment of Master Devereaux, and it behooves me as a gentlewoman to make other recompense for his courtesy." "And say you so, Francis?" laughed Mrs. Shelton who considered the affair great sport. "Belike it be no unpleasant duty. But there, child! 'Tis little of entertainment thou hast, so make merry with the lad for I fear that he will not remain here long." "I fear so too," answered Francis, and in her heart lay the unspoken wish that not only Devereaux's time but her own might be short. The days passed and Edward Devereaux had not yet matured a scheme for their flight. June waxed and waned, and July was upon them. Then one day, when the girl had almost despaired of hearing him speak of the attempt again, Devereaux said to her in a low tone: "Art thou willing to make the effort to-night, Francis?" "To-night?" cried Francis thrilling at the thought. "Yea; to-night, Edward. But how?" "Does Mrs. Shelton stay in your chamber at night?" "Not now. Not since I recovered from mine illness." "And is there not a flight of steps leading to the roof?" "Yes;" replied Francis surprised. "How knew you that?"