t I
have suffered again. But here is the garment. I fear that it is stained
about the neck, but it will serve if you tear it into strips," and a
trembling, delicate hand, which held the linen, was thrust between the
oaken bars.

Even in that light, however, Martin saw that the wrist was cut and
swollen. He saw it, and because of that tender, merciful hand he
registered an oath about priests and Spaniards, which, as it chanced, he
lived to keep very thoroughly. Also, he paused awhile wondering whether
if all this was of any good, wondering if it would not be best to let
Foy die at once, or even to kill him.

"What are you thinking about, sir?" asked the lady on the other side of
the bars.

"I am thinking," answered Martin, "that perhaps my young master here
would be better dead, and that I am a fool to stop the bleeding."

"No, no," said the sweet voice, "do your utmost and leave the rest to
God. It pleases God that I should die, which matters little as I am but
a weak girl; it may please Him that this young man shall live to be of
service to his country and his faith. I say, bind up his wounds, good
sir."

"Perhaps you are right," answered Martin. "Who knows, there's a key to
every lock, if only it can be found." Then he set to work upon Foy's
wounds, binding them round with strips of the girl's garment dipped in
water, and when he had done the best he could he clothed him again, even
to the chain shirt.

"Are you not hurt yourself?" asked the voice presently.

"A little, nothing to speak of; a few cuts and bruises, that's all; this
bull's hide turned their swords."

"Tell me whom you have been fighting," she said.

So, to while away the time while Foy still lay senseless, Martin told
her the story of the attack upon the shot tower, of how they had driven
the Spaniards down the ladder, of how they had drenched them with molten
lead, and of their last stand in the courtyard when they were forced
from the burning building.

"Oh! what a fearful fight--two against so many," said the voice with a
ring of admiration in it.

"Yes," answered Martin, "it was a good fight--the hottest that ever I
was in. For myself I don't much care, for they've paid a price for my
carcase. I didn't tell you, did I, that the mob set on them as they
haled us here and pulled four wounded men and those who carried them to
bits? Oh! yes, they have paid a price, a very good price for a Frisian
boor and a Leyden burgher."

"God pardon