"If I had my pistols," said Dudleigh, thoughtfully, "I might--But as it is, if they, see you accompanying me, they will assemble in force."
"Yes," said Edith, sadly, for she began to see difficulties.
"Now do you think that if you are with me the porter will open the gates?"
"Well, we must get out in some other way. Can you climb the wall? I might climb and help you over."
"Yes, but they would follow and prevent us."
Dudleigh looked at the floor. Then he put his small gloved hand on his forehead, and appeared for a few moments to be lost in thought.
"Miss Dalton," said he at last, "I am at your service. Can you tell me what I can do?--for to save my life I can think of nothing just now. Give me my orders."
Edith looked perplexed. She knew that this man could not force his way unarmed through the gates. She did not feel inclined just yet to tell him to arm himself and shoot any one dead who opposed him. She could not bear to think of that. But here was Dudleigh, ready.
"Have you any fire-arms in the house?" he asked.
"No," said Edith, "and, besides, I can not bear just yet to cause any thing like bloodshed."
"If not, then you can not get free at once. Can you wait one day, or two days?"
"One or two days!" said Edith. "Oh yes; one or two weeks, or even months. Only let me hope, and I can wait."
"You have this to comfort you, at any rate," said Dudleigh, "that outside the gates you have a friend. And now I will not intrude any longer. I must go. But if you will allow me I will come back to-morrow. Meanwhile I will try to think over what is best to be done."
"You will promise," said Edith, imploringly, "not to desert me?"
"Desert you? Never! On the honor of a gentleman!" cried Dudleigh; and as he bowed his head there came over his face a very singular smile, which Edith, however, did not see.
Edith slept but little that night. The prospect of escape agitated her whole being, and the new friend who had so unexpectedly appeared took up all her thoughts.
He was a little man most certainly, and Edith already caught herself thinking of him as "_Little Dudleigh_." He had nothing whatever of the hero about him. Mowbray, as far as appearances went, far surpassed her new acquaintance in that respect. Still Edith felt bound to overlook or to excuse his slight frame, and in the effort to do this she recalled all the little men of history. She thought of a saying which she had once heard, that "all great men are small men." This sentiment included under the head of little men Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Napoleon, with others of the same class, for the list had evidently been made up by one who was himself a little man, and was anxious to enter a forcible protest against the scorn of his bigger brethren. On the present occasion the list of little heroes was so formidable that Edith was prepared to find in "Little Dudleigh" all she wished. Still, in spite of his generous offers, and his chivalrous proposal to put down his dead body for her to march over, she did not feel for him that admiration which such heroism deserved; and she even reproached herself for her lack of common gratitude, for in her high spirits at the prospect of escape, she caught herself more than once smiling at the recollection of "Little Dudleigh's" little ways, his primness, and effeminacy.