she said.

She felt the quick thrill and pressure of his hand, and all the man's
tremendous energy was alive again.

"Then let us do it quickly," he answered. "I will go out with the
portress. Go to your cell before we reach the end of the corridor, and
shut the door with some noise. She will remember it afterwards. Wait at
the garden gate till I tap softly, and leave the rest to me. There is no
danger. Do not be afraid."

"Afraid!" she exclaimed proudly. "How little you know me! It never was
fear that held me. Besides--with you!"

The two last words told him more than all she had ever said before, and
for the first time he wholly trusted her. Besides, it was to be only for
a few minutes, while he went out by the front gate and walked round to
the back of the convent. The plan was so well conceived that it could
not fail when put into execution.

They shook hands, as two people who have agreed to do a desperate deed,
each for the other's sake. Then as their grasp loosened, Dalrymple
turned towards the door, but turned again almost instantly and took her
in his arms, and kissed her as men kiss women they love when their lives
are in the balance. Then he went out, passed through the antechamber,
and found the portress waiting for him as usual. She took up her little
lamp and led the way in silence. A moment later he heard Maria come out
and enter her cell, closing the door loudly behind her.

"Her most reverend excellency is in no danger now," he said to the
portress, with Scotch veracity.

"Sister Maria Addolorata may then rest a little," answered the lay
sister, who rarely spoke.

"Precisely so," said Dalrymple, drily.

Five minutes later he was at the garden gate, tapping softly.
Immediately the door yielded to his gentle pressure, for Maria had
already unfastened the lock within.

"Stand aside a little," said Dalrymple, in a whisper. "You need not
see--it is not a pretty sight. Keep the door shut till I come back.
Where is your cell?"

She pointed to a door that was open above the level of the garden. A
little light came out. With womanly caution she had set the lamp in the
corner behind the door when she had opened it, so as to show as little
as possible from without.

She turned her head away as he passed her with his heavy burden,
treading softly upon the hard, dry ground. But he was not half across
the garden before she looked after him. She could not help it. The dark
thing he carried in his arms