"Trust to me, señora," said I, "rather than to that holiday poniard, which, to say the least of it----" "I trusted at yonder willows, and was deceived. You gave me your word----" "Not to interrupt your tête-a-tête, with Reichardt, who sells groceries in the Burger-platz, or his messenger; but I knew not that the latter would come in the shape of an Imperialist officer." The fire of her eyes passed away, and they assumed a pensive and caressing expression. "Señor, you task my temper too much," she said, in a broken voice; "I take Heaven--el Altissimo Dios--witness, that I am a poor but honest girl--a poor actress, and the victim of circumstances. I appear richly dressed, with jewels on my brow and smiles on my face; the bright lights are before me, and the gay scenery behind. I see a thousand admiring eyes; I sing--I seem happy; but oh, señor, this is often with an aching heart, and withal my life is miserable." "And yet," said I, moved to hear a sob from this creature of so many impulses--"and yet I have heard you singing so merrily at times." "Every heart will have at least a placid moment among its many sad hours, and I have mine. One day you may know all my secrets; but not now--not now--here is the gate." "Ah, señora! after our adventure of to-night, surely you do not mean to preserve your incognito towards me? What is the secret of that confounded door, which has so puzzled me, and made me the laughing-stock of my friends?" "If I should decline, in revenge you will perhaps discover me to the burgomaster, who would pull yonder house down to reach me." "Oh, horror! betray you! can you harbour such a thought? Then do not tell me--farewell--I have no wish to know----" "I love your frankness, and will tell you. On reaching the first landing-place of the stair, remember to pursue the passage to the left--look behind the first door on the right, and press a black spot which you will perceive on the wall. To-morrow I will expect you; a million of thanks for your kind escort, and for to-night, my dear señor--adieu!" She kissed her hand to me gracefully, sprang through the klinket of the barrier, and had disappeared before Gillian M'Bane, could challenge her approach. "Quick to your post, Craigrollo," cried he; "for the governor is going his rounds--he is approaching." I heard the piper of the guard playing the salute, and in the moonlight saw Diarmed M'Gillvray drawing up the ranks under arms. I hurried to my place in front, just as the governor, Sir David Drummond, a grey old soldier, wearing a broad beaver hat garnished with a white feather, and having a white sheepskin doublet over his buff coat, rode up, attended by two of Rittmaster Hume's regiment of horse.