The Heart - Page 127/151

"Mary," she said, "listen to me. 'Tis the best way to save him, to

leave him."

Then Mary rolled her piteous blue eyes at her over Sir Humphrey's

shoulder from her gold tangle of hair.

"What mean you?" she cried. "I tell you, Catherine, I will never

leave him!"

"If we remain, we shall all be in custody," replied Catherine in her

clear voice, though her face was white as if she were dead, "and our

estates may be forfeited, and we have no power to help him. And he

must be taken in the end in any case. And if we be free, we can save

him."

"I will not go without him," cried Mary. "Set me down, Humphrey, and

take up Harry, and I will help thee carry him. Do as I tell thee,

Humphrey."

"Harry will be taken in any case," replied Catherine, "and if you

take him, you will be arrested with him, and then we can do nothing

for him. I tell thee, sweet, the only way to save him is to leave

him."

Then Mary gave one look at me.

"Harry, is this the truth they tell me?" she cried.

"As God is my witness, dear child," I replied. Then she twisted her

white face around toward Sir Humphrey's, who stood pinioning her

arms with a look himself as if he were dying.

"Let me loose, Humphrey," she said, "let me loose, then I swear I

will go with you and Catherine."

Then Sir Humphrey loosed her, and straight to me she came and bent

over me and kissed me. "Harry," she said in a whisper which was of

that strange quality that it seemed to be unable to be heard by any

in the whole world save us two, though it was clear enough--"I

leave thee because thou tellest me that this is the only way to save

thee, but I am thine for life and for death, and nothing shall ever

come forever between thee and me, not even thine own self, nor the

grave, nor all the wideness of life."

Then she rose and turned to Sir Humphrey and Catherine.

"I am ready," said she, and Sir Humphrey gave my hand one last

wring, and said that he would stand by me. Then they fled and, as I

lay there alone, I heard their footsteps on the cellar stairs, and

presently the dip of the boat as she was launched, and heard it

above all the din outside, so keen were my ears for aught that

concerned her.