"I will not move till you tell me news of Armand," said she. "He is with God," answered Andrew, with a convulsed face. "His last words were, 'Tell Margaret to escape, for my sake, and the child's. We shall meet again.'" "True, we shall meet again. It is but a short parting," said my mother musingly. Then, as Andrew stamped his foot with impatience, she seemed to rouse herself. "I am ready, my dear son. What shall we do?" "Go, you and Vevette, and put on your peasant dresses, and secure the money and jewels, while I warn the servants. I want them to find an empty nest. Stay in your room till I come." We obeyed at once. My mother was pale as ashes, but calm, and even cheerful. As to myself. I believe I retained only one rational thought at that moment—to do as I was bid. We changed our dresses and made our other arrangements with the speed of thought, but we had hardly finished before the noise of voices and clapping of doors told that the alarm had been given. In another moment Andrew appeared. "I have told them that the mob are coming, and that their ladies have already escaped. I have bid them take to the woods for the night. Come, now! Leave everything in all the confusion possible to look like a hasty flight. It will all the better throw them off the scent." We entered the secret passage, and closing it securely after us we sought the upper floor of the tower—not, however, the uppermost one, but the second. "Do you know the way, Andrew?" I asked. "My father said these floors were not safe." "They are safe enough for us, but our enemies will not find them very safe," was Andrew's response. "Step lightly, and follow me exactly." We went around the side of the room to a cupboard with shelves, masking a door so entirely that no one would have known it was there. This door opened into a second and much smaller room, which again opened upon the staircase up which I had led the preacher. "We can take breath now," said he. "We need not seek the vaults till we hear them approaching, and not then unless they come into this tower." "They will come," said I. "Remember the staircase from the gallery." "Let them," was Andrew's grim reply. "There are a few secrets about this place which even you do not know, Vevette." As he spoke he stooped down, drew out two large iron bolts and laid them on the floor. "The trap is set and baited," said he; "now let the rats walk in whenever they please." "But how—how was it," I asked in a whisper, for my mother never said a word. The fact that my father was dead seemed enough for her. "We had hardly reached Avranches when we heard the uproar in the market-place," returned Andrew. "At first we did not think of the cause, but as soon as we caught sight of the place we saw what was going on. They were pulling down the houses of the Protestants, and dragging out the women and the little children."