But even then he did not understand, but took my two hands in one of his, so great and strong that mine might scarce writhe themselves about within it, while he set himself to do what I would not for all his asking. And so it was that I came to the last line of my defences. "Let be, dear Ned," I murmured, in that tone of pleading I had ever in the old days used when his will did offer to prove the stronger. "Let be, dear; 't is--'t is thy little maid, Phil," I said, and dropped my eyes before him, and let my prisoned hands lie still. He stared upon me in an astonishment of wonder that discovered the white all round his eyes, and at first he would not believe. "Nay, nay," he said, "it is not so!" And I lifted my eyes and so looked into his that he could no longer doubt. "Verily, Ned, it is I. And I had told the sooner," I said, "but that--but that--" and, my words then failing, I again dropped my gaze before his. "Phil!" he cried. "Is it even my little friend Phil? 'But,' you say--but what?" "But that I would not tell you--and could not--was ashamed, Ned, and did mightily desire to know had you forgot me." And here, laying my folded handkerchief to my wound inside my shirt, and fastening all close above it, I did see his face so lose color at thought of the hurt he had given me, that I laid my hand upon his, saying: "Be not vexed, sweet Ned, 't is but a scratch." "I am right glad of it, Phil," he answered, "if it be so. But indeed you should not run about in this guise. How came you to be so dressed?" "That story must wait," I replied merrily. "But 't is the first time, Ned, and shall be the last." "And if you must needs be a man," he went on, "but for a day, you should cleave like a man to one side, and not be so greedy of strife as to draw sword on both. There will be trouble over this priest when he is taken, as he will be, by the guard without." "Listen, Ned," said I. "That priest is my brother." "What!" he cried. "Surely it is not Philip!" "Philip it is," said I, "and no other, though I did not know him until he told me even now in this room. And also he did tell me, Ned, that he had no part in the assault upon His Highness." "So much," said Ned, "is true. I marked him." "He told me, moreover," I continued, "that the business that brought him to England was fair and honest, though it was for King James. There was another priest did force or trick him into companying with the murderers. Ned, dear Ned, I did mean letting him go for our father's sake and our name." And here I found no power, and perhaps little will, to restrain the catch of a sob in my throat. "Men must not say 'spy,' 'plotmonger,' 'assassin,' when they say Drayton, Ned. You do forgive me?" "Right gladly," he answered, and seemed to muse for a little. And then, "'T is well," he said, "that I did not wake the sentry that lay sleeping at his door." "Why did you not?" I asked.