ront of it the ground fell
sharply to the valley, in which no light gleamed; beyond the valley rose
the dim hills again. Nor was there any sound except the torrent. The
air at this height was keen and fresh with a smell of primeval earth.
Wogan hitched his cloak about his throat, and his boots rang upon the
rock. The Princess raised her head; Wogan walked to the door and stood
for a little with his hand upon the latch. He lifted it and entered.
Clementina looked at him for a moment, and curiously. She had no
questions as to how his struggle with the Governor of Trent's emissaries
had fared. Wogan could understand by some unspoken sympathy that that
matter had no place in her thoughts. She stood up in an attitude of
expectation.

"It grows towards morning?" said she.

"In two hours we shall have the dawn," he replied; and there was a
silence between them.

"You found this cabin open?" said Wogan.

"The door was latched. I loosed a shutter. The night is very still."

"One might fancy there were no others alive but you and me across all
the width of the world."

"One could wish it," she said beneath her breath, and crossed to the
window where she stayed, breathing the fresh night. The sigh, however,
had reached to Wogan's ears. He took his pistols from his belt, and to
engage his thoughts, loaded the one which had been fired at him. After a
little he looked up and saw that Clementina's eyes dwelt upon him with
that dark steady look, which held always so much of mystery and told
always one thing plainly, her lack of fear. And she said suddenly,--

"There was trouble at Peri. I climbed from the window. I had almost
forgotten. As I ran down the road past the open court, I saw a little
group of men gathered about the foot of the staircase! I was in two
minds whether to come back and load your pistols or to obey you. I
obeyed, but I was in much fear for you. I had almost forgotten, it seems
so long ago. Tell me! You conquered; it is no new thing. Tell me how!"

She did not move from the window, she kept her eyes fixed upon Wogan
while he told his story, but it was quite clear to him that she did not
hear one half of it. And when he had done she said,--

"How long is it till the morning?"

Wogan had spun his tale out, but half an hour enclosed it, from the
beginning to the end. He became silent again; but he was aware at once
that silence was more dangerous than speech, for in the silence he could
hear both their hea