I therefore struck the door loudly, and although I thought I detected some sounds of movement within, I still remained outside. So I put my shoulder against the iron-studded barrier and pressed hardly, and although it yielded somewhat the bolts held firmly. My action, however, must have told those within that I was determined to enter, for at this time I heard footsteps coming towards me. "No, you ca'ant come in," said a voice from within. "Amelia--Amelia Lanteglos," I said aloud. "Wait a minnit, Maaster Roger Trevanion," was the reply, spoken as I thought excitedly, almost feverishly. Then a bolt drew back and the door opened. "Forgive me," said Amelia Lanteglos, "but I thought it was--somebody else. Where did 'ee come from, sur?" "I can't tell you now, Amelia," I said; "is your Mistress safe?" "Saafe. Iss, sure; but she've bin purtly frightened." "Yes." "Maaster Otho mimicked the knock. Three times ya knaw, and I opened the door. She ded think t'was he knockin' again." "That is why I was refused admittance?" "Iss, sur, that's ev et." "Can you take me to your mistress now?" "Iss, sur; come this way." I followed the maid along dark corridors in perfect silence, she muttering and laughing in a strange way; I feverishly excited, my side paining me sorely, yet feeling no weakness. Presently she stopped, and then knocked timidly at the door of an apartment. The only response that I heard was a piteous cry and a sob. Amelia knocked again. "I do not wish to be seen. I will not open the door. You can force your way in if you dare, but you do not come here again with my consent." And now there was nothing plaintive in the tones of her voice, it was rather angry--defiant. "I'll maake sa bould as to oppen the door," whispered Amelia; "she do think tes Maaster Otho," and without further ado she suited the action to the word, I entered the apartment, and Amelia left us together. A lamp stood on the table, which was in the centre of the room, so that I could see my love plainly. She stood as far away from the door as possible, and her back was turned upon me. I caught sight of one of her hands, and saw that the fist was constantly clenching and unclenching itself. Evidently the poor maid was sore distraught, and the sight of her sorrow rendered me dumb. "Do you think, Otho Killigrew," she said slowly, still keeping her back towards me, "that you can change my mind? You say I am in your power, and that I have no friend to help me; well, if you had a spark of manhood in you, you would cease to molest me, for you would know that your very presence is loathsome. Now go, and leave me to find what peace I can." Her words filled my heart with joy and sorrow at the same time. Joy, because it was not I who was loathsome to her; sorrow, because she stood there helpless and alone, and because I felt myself unable to help her. And thus all I could think upon to say, and that in a very husky voice, was: "Mistress Nancy."