"You swear it?" she cried. Before I could answer she seized my arm and dragged me up the dim aisle until we stood together before the Figure and the Cross. The chimes above us rang eleven. A shaft of cold sunshine pierced a dusty window, and, full of dancing motes, shot athwart the pillars. "Swear!" she repeated with trembling eagerness, turning her eyes on mine, and raising her hand solemnly toward the Figure. "Swear by the Cross!" "I swear," I said. She dropped her hand. Her form seemed to shrink and grow less. Making a sign to me to go, she fell on her knees on the step, and drew her hood over her face. I walked away on tiptoe down the aisle, but glancing back from the door of the church I saw the small, solitary figure still kneeling in prayer. The sunshine had died away. The dusty window was colorless. Only the red lamp glowed dully above her head. I seemed to see what the end would be. Then I pushed aside the curtain, and slipped out into the keen air. It was hers to pray. It was mine to act. I lost no time, but on my return I could not find Master Bertie either in the public room or in the inn yard, so I sought him in his bedroom, where I found him placidly reading a book; his patient waiting in striking contrast with the feverish anxiety which had taken hold of me. "What is it, lad?" he said, closing the volume, and laying it down on my entrance. "You look disturbed?" "I have seen Mistress Anne," I answered. He whistled softly, staring at me without a word. "She knows all," I continued. "How much is all?" he asked after a pause. "Our names--all our names, Penruddocke's, Kingston's, the others; our meeting-place, and that we hold Clarence a prisoner. She was that old woman whom we saw at the Gatehouse tavern last night." He nodded, appearing neither greatly surprised nor greatly alarmed. "Does she intend to use her knowledge?" he said. "I suppose she does." "Unless we let him go safe and unhurt before sunset." "They will never consent to it," he answered, shaking his head. "Then they will hang!" I cried. He looked hard at me a moment, discerning something strange in the bitterness of my last words. "Come, lad," he said, "you have not told me all. What else have you learned?" "How can I tell you?" I cried wildly, waving him off, and going to the lattice that my face might be hidden from him. "Heaven has cursed me!" I added, my voice breaking. He came and laid his hand on my shoulder. "Heaven curses no one," he said. "Most of our curses we make for ourselves. What is it, lad?" I covered my face with my hands. "He--he is my father," I muttered. "Do you understand? Do you see what I have done? He is my father!"