“In time,” she repeated slowly, as if to herself, and then, rousing herself from that stupor of emotion, looked up with a countenance on which a sudden glow had spread.  “And why hast thou so suddenly resolved on this?” she asked, calmly; “why shouldst thou fear for me more now than hitherto, dearest Nigel?  Hath not the danger always been the same, and yet thou ne’er hast breathed of parting? are not thy hopes the same—­what hath chanced unknown to me, that thou speakest and lookest thus? tell me, ere thou urgest more.”

“I will tell thee what I fear, my love,” he answered, reassured by her firmness; “much that is seen not, guessed not by my comrades.  They were satisfied that my appeal had had its effect, and the execution of Evan Roy was attended with no disturbance, no ill will amongst those supposed to be of his party—­nay, that terror did its work, and all ideas of treachery which might have been before encouraged were dismissed.  I, too, believed this, Agnes, for a while; but a few brief hours were sufficient to prove the utter fallacy of the dream.  Some secret conspiracy is, I am convinced, carrying on within these very walls.  I know and feel this, and yet so cautious, so secret are their movements, whatever they may be, that I cannot guard against them.  There are, as thou knowest, fewer true fighting men amongst us than any other class, and these are needed to man the walls and guard against the foe without; they may not be spared to watch as spies their comrades—­nay, I dare not even breathe such thoughts, lest their bold hearts should faint and fail, and they too demand surrender ere evil come upon us from within.  What will be that evil I know not, and therefore cannot guard against it.  I dare not employ these men upon the walls, I dare not bring them out against the foe, for so bitterly do I mistrust them, I should fear even then they would betray us.  I only know that evil awaits us, and therefore, my beloved, I do beseech thee, tarry not till it be upon us; depart while thy path is free.”

“Yet if they sought safety and peace, if they tire of this warfare,” she replied, disregarding his last words, “wherefore not depart to-day, when egress was permitted; bethink thee, dearest Nigel, is not this proof thy fears are ill founded, and that no further ill hangs over us than that which threatens from without?”

“Alas! no,” he said, “it but confirms my suspicions; I obtained this safe conduct expressly to nullify or confirm them.  Had they departed as I wished, all would have been well; but they linger, and I can feel their plans are maturing, and therefore they will not depart.  Oh, Agnes,” he continued, bitterly, “my very soul is crushed beneath this weight of unexpressed anxiety and care.  Had I but to contend with our English foe, but to fight a good and honorable fight, to struggle on, conscious that to the last gasp the brave inmates of this fortress would follow me, and Edward would find naught on which to wreak his vengeance but the dead bodies of his foes, my task were easy as ’twere glorious; but to be conscious of secret brooding evil each morn that rises, each night that falls, to dread what yet I know not, to see, perchance, my brave fellows whelmed, chained, through a base treachery impossible to guard against—­oh!  Agnes, ’tis this I fear.”