Philpotts stood looking at the prisoner till slowly the mouth began to work, two tears slipped out from his eyelids and slid down his nose. He put up the sleeve of his jerkin to wipe them off, and then, fairly overcome, leaned against his arm on the post in the corner and fell to sobbing aloud. "Forgive me blubbering, sir; but, oh, to see you in this sorry case, and me a-guarding you that should be helping you to escape. Shame on them that shut up an innocent man and planned his ruin!" "An innocent man?" queried Neville; "why, 'tis not five minutes since that I was a murderer unfit to share an honest man's pipe." "God ha' mercy on my blind stupidity! I see not how I could ha' looked in your face and not seen that 'twas na' in those eyes to look on a man to murder him nor in that mouth to swear falsely." "Not so fast, Philpotts! Many a saint has had the ill luck to look like a pirate, and I was thrown in with a man in Algiers that I would have shared my last crust with, and he stole my wallet and made off with it in the night." "Well, mebbe it's because I'm not of the quality and have no book learning, but when I feel things in my bones I don't question of them; and now my eyes are open and I see you're innocent, I'm going to help you out of this hole." "But the danger--" "To Hell with the danger! There never was a Philpotts yet was a coward." "But your farm is well started here." "Let it go to seed, then. It's little good there is for a Protestant in this Papist province, anyhow, and I'd not be sorry to be off to Virginia. I've a boat on the river below. So you see there's nothing between you and freedom." "Yes, there is one thing." "An' what's that, pray?" As if in answer to the question came a rapid knock at the door outside. The guard grasped his musket and marched once or twice up and down the barn to recover his severe military bearing before he drew the door a crack open. "Who goes there?" "It is I, Mistress Calvert, cousin to Governor Brent." Neville's heart felt as if it were an anvil, and some unseen power were laying on the hammer-strokes thick and fast. The blood surged to his face, and then fell back again leaving it white. She had come. Was he glad or sorry? Pride said, "You are sorry." Love whispered, "You are glad--do not deny it." Pride answered, "Yes, glad of the chance to make her sorry." "I know not how to deny you, Mistress Calvert," came from without in Philpotts' voice, "but my commands are that none should enter save by the Governor's orders." "Uncivil fellow!" Neville instinctively felt for his sword, and would have made a trial of his strength without it, but that on the instant he heard that voice, the voice that could make little shivers run from head to foot.