As the heart of Katherine began to beat less vehemently, she said: “'Tis Borroughcliffe, and too drunk to see that we have left the key in the door; but what is to be done? we have but a moment for consultation.” “As the day dawns,” said Cecilia, “quickly, I shall send here, under the pretence of conveying you food, my own woman----” “There is no need of risking anything for my safety,” interrupted Griffith; “I hardly think we shall be detained, and if we are, Barnstable is at hand with a force that would scatter these recruits to the four winds of heaven.” “Ah! that would lead to bloodshed, and scenes of horror!” exclaimed Cecilia. “Listen!” cried Katherine, “they approach again!” A man now stopped, once more, at their door, which was opened softly, and the face of the sentinel was thrust into the apartment. “Captain Borroughcliffe is on his rounds, and for fifty of your guineas I would not leave you here another minute.” “But one word more,” said Cecilia. “Not a syllable, my lady, for my life,” returned the man; “the lady from the next room waits for you, and in mercy to a poor fellow go back where you came from.” The appeal was unanswerable, and they complied, Cecilia saying, as they left the room: “I shall send you food in the morning, young man, and directions how to take the remedy necessary to your safety.” In the passage they found Alice Dunscombe, with her face concealed in her mantle; and, it would seem, by the heavy sighs that escaped from her, deeply agitated by the interview which she had just encountered. But as the reader may have some curiosity to know what occurred to distress this unoffending lady so sensibly, we shall detain the narrative, to relate the substance of that which passed between her and the individual whom she sought. CHAPTER XIV. “As when a lion in his den, Hath heard the hunters' cries, And rushes forth to meet his foes, So did the Douglas rise--” _Percy_. Alice Dunscombe did not find the second of the prisoners buried, like Griffith, in sleep, but he was seated on one of the old chairs that were in the apartment, with his back to the door, and apparently looking through the small window, on the dark and dreary scenery over which the tempest was yet sweeping in its fury. Her approach was unheeded, until the light from her lamp glared across his eyes, when he started from his musing posture, and advanced to meet her. He was the first to speak. “I expected this visit,” he said, “when I found that you recognized my voice; and I felt a deep assurance in my breast, that Alice Dunscombe would never betray me.” His listener, though expecting this confirmation of her conjectures, was unable to make an immediate reply, but she sank into the seat he had abandoned, and waited a few moments, as if to recover her powers.