“Bless me, how little you know! What is quarreling King or rebellious country to me compared with you? No wonder my beating heart did not awaken me with your hand upon it, for it was co-conspirator with you, and wholly your own. Heaven mend my broken patriotism!--but if you had asked me, I would have ridden myself to Cromwell with the King’s signature.” “Do you----can you forgive me, then?” “Forgive you? You are the bravest lass in all the land,”--and with that, before she was aware or could ward off his attack if she had wished to do so, he reached impulsively forward, caught her off her horse, and held her in his arms as if she were a child, kissing her wounded wrist, her eyes, her hair, her lips. “And now, do you forgive _me_, Frances?” “Oh, willingly, willingly! Trespass for trespass. ‘As we forgive them that trespass against us.’ But set me on my horse again, I beg of you.” “I can hardly believe you are here yet.” “Cease, cease, I beg of you! The moments are too precious for it.” “Precious they are and most preciously employed.” “Will, Will, I implore you. Do you not understand? You are jesting on the brink of the grave. De Courcy has crawled to Cromwell ere this, and that grim man is lighting the North against us. They are now on our track.” “The way is clear. There is no one in sight, and we can outride them when they come.” “They are riding across country to intercept us. Oh, let not my arms hold you back for destruction. Cromwell himself told me he would hang you if he had to take you openly.” “He dare not. Have no fear!” “He dares anything. You do not know that man, and your condemnation, this document, rests now on the heart it would still. Cromwell will move the world to tear it from you. If you love me as you say, let us to the North at once.” Well he knew the truth of her warning, now that he understood the case, but was reluctant to let her go. The last appeal had its effect, and he placed her once more on her horse. Together they set off again, through a land that seemed silent and at peace; but it was only seeming. CHAPTER IV.--ENTANGLED. There was some delay at Warwick, and the authorities proved reluctant to let them proceed farther with the journey. It was evident that the commandant had received instructions regarding the very pass they presented to him for their safe conduct, because he retired with it to the guard-house, where he remained for a time that seemed perilously long, and even when at last he came out with it he was plainly still suspicious, and in doubt regarding what action he should take. It was Frances who turned the scale in her own favour and that of her companion. “Where did you get this pass?” the commandant asked. “At Corbiton Manor, in the county of Durham.” “Who gave it to you?” “It was given to me by General Cromwell’s direction, and written almost in my own presence, I might say, or at least a few moments after I had been speaking with him.” “You went from Durham to Oxford?”