"Yes," said Lady Allonby, and seated herself before the fire,--"yes, I
understand. I am to slip away in the darkness and leave you here to answer
for Lord Rokesle's death--to those devils. La, do you really think me as
base as that?"

Now Simon Orts was kneeling at her side. The black cloak enveloped her from
head to foot, and the turned-up collar screened her sunny hair; in the
shadow of the broad hatbrim you could see only her eyes, resplendent and
defiant, and in them the reflection of the vaulting flames. "You would
stay, Anastasia?"

"I will not purchase my life at the cost of yours. I will be indebted to
you for nothing, Simon Orts."

The Vicar chuckled. "Nor appeared Less than archangel ruined," he said.
"No, faith, not a whit less! We are much of a piece, Anastasia. Do you
know--if affairs had fallen out differently--I think I might have been a
man and you a woman? As it is--" Kneeling still, his glance devoured her.
"Yes, you would stay. And you comprehend what staying signifies. 'Tis
pride, your damnable pride, that moves you,--but I rejoice, for it proves
you a brave woman. Courage, at least, you possess, and this is the first
virtue I have discovered in you for a long while. However, there is no
necessity for your staying. The men of Usk will not hurt Simon Orts."

She was very eager to believe this. Lady Allonby had found the world a
pleasant place since her widowhood. "They will not kill you? You swear it,
Simon?"

"Why, the man was their tyrant. They obeyed him--yes, through fear. I am