"Yes," he said with a half-laugh, "you believed me false and trifling with Mistress Anne Beckley, whom I had saved from the annoyance offered by my men; and I, poor silly-pated fool, believed you to care for that coxcomb Sir Mark, whom, thank heaven, you saved from an unkindly blow. Yes, sweet, I have been a fool, a jealous, weak, but always loving fool. Forgive me, for I must go." "Forgive you, Gil? Will you forgive me my want of trust?" "With all my heart, sweet; and now I must leave you. Mace, child, thou art my wife, or the wife of no man, come what may. If I stay from you it is because I would not anger thy father by these pitiful nightly visits. I love you too well, child, to come like this. Perhaps in a week or two I shall be away across the seas, where night and day your face will be my hope; Mace, your dear eyes will be the stars by which I steer. Good-bye, sweet, good-bye." He held her hand tightly in his, and it clung to his in return. Then placing his left hand on the heavy trellis, and a foot on the sill below her casement, he raised himself to a level with her face, and as he drew her to him lips touched lips for a brief moment, and then he lightly dropped back again, as a quick rustling noise, and a hasty exclamation, followed by steps, fell upon his ear. "I must go," he whispered, "for both our sakes. Good-bye." "Good-bye." Plain, homely words; but they meant much as spoken then. Turning once more to gaze up at the window, Gil was walking rapidly the next moment towards the path, when a dark figure started up in his way. End of Volume I. Volume 2, Chapter I. HOW JANET WAS CLASPED IN THE WRONG ARMS. A signal made with four glow-worms can be seen by many who happen to be gazing out into the darkness of the night. Janet had seen them plainly, and, as it happened, so had the founder, who took down--and buckled on his sword, and then crept cautiously to Sir Mark's chamber. "Are you awake?" he whispered. "Yes, yes," cried Sir Mark, starting up with a cry; "is aught the matter?" "Hush, man," whispered the founder, "or you'll alarm the house. One would think I had told thee that one was sotting spark to the powder-barrels in the cellar." "Powder-barrels in the cellar?" said Sir Mark, in a hoarse whisper. "Of course. Where would'st have them for safety? Tut, man, it is not Guido Fawkes who has come. He is here." "What, Fawkes?" "Nay, how dense thou art. Up and dress quickly. He is in the garden, I'll wager, trying to keep tryst with my child. Dress quickly, and bring thy sword. If he be not pricked to-night as a warning my name is not Cobbe. I'll wait thee in the passage below." He slipped out on to the broad landing, and waited, when, to his surprise and rage, he saw a figure hooded and cloaked, glide down the stairs and out of the front door, which creaked lightly as the girl passed through.