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“`Farewell, master traitor, I doubt not your business keeps you where you are. We shall miss your company.’

“Morgan did not hear them. He sprang desperately towards the now blazing boards. But it was too late to stay the fire, and the heat and falling embers drove him back.

“Still he could not go, but stayed there half suffocated, determined at least not to desert his post while a glimmer of hope remained.

“In a few moments there was a crash and a shower of sparks at his feet. The trap-door had fallen in.

“Heedless of the peril or the pain, he sprang once more at the opening, and this time, how he knew not, succeeded in lifting himself into the blazing apartment. Many a time had he been there before in happier days.

“He rushed across to the door and out into the great hall of the castle. Not a man was there to stop him. He heard voices and shouts outside, but the castle seemed to have been left to its fate. There was yet time, thought he, before the flames reached so far, to rush up to his lady’s room and save her.

“He sprang up the staircase. Halfway up he saw a figure before him, ascending too. He called, and the man turned suddenly. Morgan knew him in a moment. It was Fulke himself. The old Royalist, seeing himself pursued by a soldier in the dress of a Roundhead, concluded the enemy had already entered his castle, and with the fury of a desperate man, drew his sword and threw himself upon the stranger. Morgan had no time to hesitate. The delay of a moment might cost his lady her life.

“With a rapid pass of his sword, he struck Fulke across the arm, and as the weapon dropped from the old soldier’s hand, Morgan rushed past, on towards the lady’s chamber.

“Another obstacle still awaited him. This time it was a groom unarmed, who encountered him. He too, defenceless as he was, sprang wildly upon the intruder to dispute the passage. But Morgan put him by with the flat of his sword and crying–

“`Look to your master below. I will see to the lady,’ darted on.

“After that it was all like a dream. He was dimly conscious of rushing down those steps shortly after, with a precious burden in his arms. How he struggled through the smoke and fire, or how he kept his feet on that tottering staircase, no one knows. It’s enough to say he struggled forward down the stairs and across the hall as far as the outer door, where some one snatched his unharmed burden from his arms and carried her to a place of safety, where already her father, tended by his faithful servant, was recovering consciousness.

“The courtyard by this time was crowded with troopers, Royalist and Roundhead, and above the roar of the flames and the crashing of falling roofs there rose the report of guns and the clash of swords. Morgan, half stunned and like a man in a dream, was standing propped up against a tree a helpless spectator of the scene, when suddenly one of his own men rushed up to him and saluted.

“`The colonel, sir, is dead. He was under yonder wall as it fell. The men, sir, look to you for orders.’

“Morgan sprang to his feet like one electrified.

“`Call the men off,’ he cried hoarsely, `instantly–without another blow, and bring the prisoners to the camp–to me. Lose not a moment, friend.’

“The order was obeyed. The Roundheads were glad enough to get clear of the tottering walls without being too particular as to who escaped and who was captured.

“Among the prisoners who next morning were reported to the captain as safe were Fulke, his daughter, and one manservant.

“Morgan’s heart failed him. He could not, dared not see them. He ordered them to be kept in safe custody, and, meanwhile, summoned two of his most trusty soldiers to receive orders respecting them.

“That night a small boat was brought round to the bottom of yonder cliff, where you see the little creak, sir. And in it Fulke and the young lady and their servant were rowed secretly to W–, where a fishing-boat waited to carry them to Ireland. That’s the story, sir.”

“And what became of Morgan?” said I.

“No one heard of him after this affair, sir. And they do say he was punished as a traitor. But whatever the end of him was, he never repented his night’s work at the burning of Fulke Castle.”