She hastened to her chamber, and sent dry clothes to me; some grandsire’s garments taken from an ancient press and heavy with the odour of musk. I donned them, and saw myself a courtier of Henry’s time in doublet and hose of slashed velvet. The storm did not abate; and when I descended from the place where I had shifted to a parlour on the ground floor, I had given to me a hasty note. ‘I am tired,’ it ran, ‘to-night I cannot see you; a bedchamber is prepared; honour me by spending the night here.’ My heart sank now at the thought of times apart from her; but I strove to wile the hours with a lute I found; and I made verses on my lady’s beauty, which I wrote on some tablets that lay in the window-seat. At midnight I retired to bed, where, being still exhausted, I fell asleep immediately--to dream that terrible and most sweet day all over again. I woke in an hour. Outside the wind shrieked and howled: it shook the mullions; strange things rattled across the panes. My candle, which I had forgotten to blow out, was guttering in the socket. Suddenly I heard a woman’s cry--it was repeated--it rang above the noise of tempest: ‘_Francis, O Francis, help me! they are killing me!--they are killing me!_’ I sprang from bed and ran into the corridor, my feet clapping loudly on the plaster floor. At the further end was an open door, with a brilliant gleam. All indoors was quiet: on the threshold I paused, seeing a golden bedstead, hung with curtains of tissue, and the shape of a woman beneath the covering. Again came that frightful cry--fainter and fainter, ‘_Francis, my Francis, help me!--help me!_’ Then I went to the bedside and tore aside the fabric; to behold my mistress’s face all contorted as with fear and pain. Forgetful of all save my desire to drive away her torturing fancies (for I saw that she rode the wild mare), I leaped upon the pillow and caught her head to my lap, where the grey eyes opened in wonderment, and a flush spread over the cheeks. She gave one laughing sigh--a woman’s whinny; then thrust out her arms and clasped my waist.... At that moment came the sounds of bolts undrawn and doors banging; then followed a loud tumult in the hall below--then a quavering of voices hushed by one sharp and loud. I would have drawn away for her sake; but her hands were locked. ‘It is he,’ she whispered. ‘How he comes I know not. Stay with me to the end.’ The clamping of shoes, the clinking of spurs moved along the gallery; then Sir Humphreville and the mute came through the open door. Jealous hatred flashed on us from the knight’s eyes; he held his sword before him; I could see him tremble. ‘ADULTERESS!’ He spoke no more than the one word. Lady Millicent smiled--still from my lap. ‘Think you so?’ she said.