“Nay, cousin,” says I, forgetting all my stern manner in a trice, “it is to serve you that--but come, accompany me and John here to the chamber over the door; I wish you to speak with these men through the window. And believe me,” I says, lowering my voice as she walked at my side, “I am deeply grieved to give you so much trouble, but ’tis necessary for both my uncle’s sake and your own. And so----” “Nay, sir,” says she. “Spare me fine speeches, I pray you. You have taken the affairs of this house into your own hands, and since I am only a woman you compel me to do what I should not do if I were a man. Pray you insult me not as well as injure me.” “Oh,” says I, “if you will so mischievously pervert things, mistress, why----” But we had come to the little casement overlooking the courtyard. In the darkness we could but barely see the men on horseback below us. Three of them remained a little distance away and held the horse of the fourth, the crown of whose hat we perceived outside the porch beneath us. He was knocking at the door, this time very loudly. “Stand back,” says I to John, and drew back myself into the middle of the room. “Now, cousin,” I says, “open the casement, and ask who is there, and demand his business.” “You must put words into my mouth, then, sir,” says she, fumbling at the latch. “You have wit enough of your own, cousin,” I answers her. “Use it with your accustomed sharpness, I pray.” And to that she made no answer, but I could fancy that her eyes flashed in the darkness, and that she bit her lips for pure vexation. However she opened the window and leant out. “Who are you that knock honest folk up at this hour?” she cries. “And what is your business that you bring a troop of men into the courtyard?” “Ah!” says Anthony Dacre from below. “Cousin, ’tis I--I am glad to find you here--I had feared you might have returned home. Prithee, come down and unbar the door, cousin--I have important news for you.” “I can hear it quite well here,” says she. “Why,” says he, “I can’t stand here and bawl it at the top o’ my voice, cousin.” “My ears are very quick,” she answers. “I daresay I shall hear it if you whisper it.” “But ’tis of the last importance,” he says, “and besides, I have friends with me.” “So I perceive,” she says, coolly. “And neither you nor they are coming within the house. So you better tell me your business at once, Master Dacre.” I heard him smother an oath. “Ah!” says he. “So you are still as vixenish as ever, fair cousin? But we are coming into the house, and so you had best be civil to us while we are without, lest----” “Spare your threats,” she says scornfully. “I care no more for them than for your civility. And so, if you will not tell me your business I shall shut the window.”