"If we keep on at this speed, we shall be in the town of Liskeard in a little more than an hour," I said presently, feeling that I could keep silence no longer. Indeed I wondered much afterwards how I could have been speechless so long, feeling sure as I did that the woman I loved was by my side. No reply, however, was made to me; and my companions never so much as moved their hoods from their faces. By this time our horses showed signs of fatigue; especially was mine becoming spent, for I was no light weight to carry. "It will be well to rest at Liskeard," I said, "if only for the sake of the horses." "No, we must not stay there." She tried to speak in the same tone as when she had commanded John Jenkins to open the door of the Witch's Tower, but I thought I detected the voice I had learned to love in spite of the hoarse whisper. "I have not spoken to you, Mistress Nancy Molesworth," I replied quietly, "for I thought you desired not speech, and I would not have said aught to you now; only in an hour it will be daylight, and my horse cannot carry me many miles farther." I thought I saw her start as I mentioned her name, while her companion made a quick movement. But neither gave answer to my words. Silently we sped along, my steed panting much but still holding out bravely. Presently we came to a steep hill, and in mercy to the poor animals we had to allow them to slacken speed; indeed I sprung from my saddle and walked by my horse's head. "We have ridden so hard that I have not had a chance to thank you for this great service, Mistress Molesworth," I said; "indeed we had gone several miles before I divined who you were. Words are poor, and they cannot tell the gratitude I feel." She made no answer to my words. "At first I dared not believe it could be you; indeed I knew of no one who could bring me deliverance;" and still she kept her hood closely around her head, answering nothing. "Your heart is kind," I went on, "and unlike women generally, you are not afraid of danger. Believe me, I am not ungrateful. I am your servant for life. I am afraid you are still in danger, and I rejoice that I am free to help you." Daylight was now dawning, indeed I could see the colour of her gray cloak plainly. "Will you not pull aside your hood?" I said, scarcely thinking of my words. She did not obey me, but I noticed her gloved hand tremble. I saw, too, that she reeled in her saddle. "You are ill!" I cried, and then I rushed to her side, for she was falling from her horse. During the hours of danger and hard riding she had shown no sign of weakness, but now the danger was far behind, her woman's weakness overcame her. As I caught her, she fell in my arms like one in a dead faint; so I laid her carefully on the grassy bank beside the road. By this time the other woman had dismounted and had come to her side.