A NIGHT IN BONDS

Van Curter did not intend to give up without a struggle. The attempt to
take the officers prisoners was made at the instigation of Captain Van
Zandt, who argued that they were to the garrison at Windsor what the
head is to the body, and that the head once off the body is useless. How
poorly they succeeded has been seen. Still at their posts within the
fort, Holmes knew that they were gathering to attack him. He passed the
word to the men to fight steadily.

Van Curter’s men advanced from four sides, bearing ladders hastily
constructed, with which to scale the walls. Even now Holmes did not like
to use his rifles on them, and called on them to stay. They only answered
by yells of defiance, and quickened their pace. Holmes reluctantly gave
the order to fire.

The balls whistled about the ears of the Dutch. Several of them were
wounded, but none killed. The injured were hurried to the rear, and the
rest planted their ladders and begun the ascent. Holmes, who did not like
to kill any of them, ordered his men to throw down the ladders as fast as
they were placed. As there were generally two or three men on each ladder
when they fell, bruises and broken ribs resulted.

“Cudgels to the front!” cried out a laughing voice at this juncture.

The men turned. Boston Bainbridge was just coming out of the cabin,
carrying an armful of stout oak cudgels, which he had been smoothing so
as to fit the hand. These he distributed to the men, who received them
with lusty cheers.

“Throw open the gate,” cried Boston. “We shall show these knaves that
we do not fear them. What do they mean by coming against us with empty
hands. They will bring guns next time.”

The gates were flung open with a will, and the eighteen men of the
garrison found themselves opposed by about twenty-five Dutchmen, the
rest having been placed _hors de combat_ in various ways. But, they were
not the men to yield tamely, and catching up clubs and stones, they met
the sortié bravely. Foremost among the party from the stockade, Boston
Bainbridge came—not the Boston who sold his wares in Good Hope, but an
active forester, eager for a fray. Carl Anselm, with his bruised and
distorted face, looking fiendlike under the glare of the fires, rushed at
him with a knife in his hand. But he went down at once like an ox under
the ax of the butcher. The Dutch tried in vain to stand up before the men
of Windsor. They were driven from the field, and made their way back to
camp, dragging their wounded with them.

Next day they went back to Good Hope. They wanted to be as far as
possible from the long-armed men of Windsor. With curses both loud and
deep, Van Curter led his men home, closed his gates, and sat down to
think.

“Who is Boston Bainbridge?” he asked of Captain Van Zandt.

“The devil himself,” replied that worthy.

“At least, he is something more than a peddler. Did you see him fight?
Our men went down like grass before the mower. He has powerful arms.”

“Poor Carl is disfigured for life. First, that blow he took from Barlow
spread his nose all over his face, and now his head is broken. He will go
mad if he does not get revenge.”

“Where is he?”

“The surgeon has him.”

“That was a bad failure.”

“Bad! I should think so. But who, I ask you, would have thought it
possible for two men to escape from such a net? I would have periled my
soul on my power to hold Barlow; but my head struck a stone. That will be
settled sometime. When we meet again with swords in our hands, one or the
other must die. Where is Theresa?”

Van Curter pointed to the door of the next room. The young man rose,
pushed open the door, and entered. Theresa sat at a table, engaged in
some household duty. She looked up with an odd sort of smile as he
entered.

“Have you no welcome for me, Theresa?” he asked, in a tone of passionate
entreaty.

“Would it not be better, Joseph, for us to cease at once at _playing_
friendship, when I, at least, have not a spark of respect for you in my
heart?”

“When did I become so hateful to you?” he asked, in a low tone.

“I was afraid of you always; but the time from which I ceased to hold
even respect toward you was when you struck your hand upon this table,
and swore to kill Willie Barlow.”

“You do not remember, Theresa, that those words were spoken in the heat
of passion, aroused by your refusal of me. Would a man with any heart
have said less? Listen to me, Theresa Van Curter, and mark my words well.
You have it in your power to make for yourself and for me a glorious
destiny. I have influence in the old world. There is nothing I can not
claim in the way of honor and wealth. My love for you is so entire that
you can shape me as you will. My nature only needs a guiding hand—a
loving, tender, womanly hand like yours. Be my wife. We will turn our
backs forever upon this new country and all its bad associations, and
make a new life in our own fatherland.”

Theresa mused. His appeal had been so impassioned, so full of heart, that
it was not in her nature to hurt his feelings. He noted her indecision:

“You hesitate, my darling! I have not given you time enough. You want
more. Take it. Weeks, months, a year! I can wait, only give me some hope,
and promise that you will no longer listen to this plotting Englishman.”

“Do not deceive yourself, Joseph,” she said. “It is not in my power to do
as you ask. Spare me any longer speech upon the subject. It is only just
to me that you should cease.”

“You are hasty; you should take time.”

“This was decided some time since,” she returned, quietly gathering up
some things from the table, and placing them in a box at her side.

“It then remains for me to tell you what may result, if you push me too
far. Remember, I can bear, and have borne much for your sake. There is
only one way by which you can save yourself and him.”

“You have no power over him,” she answered, with a curl of her proud lip.
“What may be the way in which we may be _saved_?”

“By being my wife.”

“Death before such a redemption! Do you use threats to me?”

“Not at all. I never threaten. I act, as you and your minion shall find.
I bid you good-night, Theresa Van Curter—as a lover, forever. In after
times we may meet again, and you shall say that I am not a man to be
despised. Give you good-night.”

The door closed behind him, and Theresa was alone. Once rid of his
presence, and the firmness which had sustained her through the interview
gave way; she dropped her head upon the table, and gave way to a flood of
tears.

The night came, dark and gloomy, and Theresa retired early. The men of
Good Hope, tired by their fruitless expedition, sunk into repose. There
was no rain, though the clouds covered the whole face of the sky. Theresa
could not sleep; she rose, threw on a light wrapper, and sat at the
latticed casement, the place where Willie had so often come.

A dark figure rose outside the window, and a scream rose to her lips,
which was hushed by a low “hist” from the stranger. She threw open the
casement with care. It was Willie.

“I have not time to exchange a word,” he said, kissing her. “Whatever
happens to-night, keep to your room. Warn Katrine, also; but be
cautious.”

With these words he was gone, and she sat in breathless expectation. An
hour dragged by, when, all at once, there rose upon the still night air
the shouts of men in combat. The Windsor men had turned the tables and
attacked Good Hope!

Cheers and execrations mingled upon the sultry air. Dark forms flitted to
and fro in the gloom. The Windsor men had followed close upon the trail
of the men of Good Hope, and attacked them at the hour when the senses of
all but the guards were locked in slumber. Indeed, some of the men yet
lingered in the works before the assault came.

In a very short space the outer work was won, and the Dutch driven into
the houses within the works. These they barricaded, and prepared to make
a vigorous resistance.

At the first alarm, Van Zandt and Van Curter were upon their feet and
seized their weapons. In the _melée_ outside, they were separated in some
way, and were driven into different houses. The one in which the captain
took refuge was that of the commandant. Carl was with him.

There were three of these houses in the works, built of logs, notched
and squared at the end. They were solid structures, capable of resisting
a very strong force. About twenty in the garrison were fit for duty, of
whom ten were in one house, under Van Curter, seven under Van Zandt,
while, by a series of unlucky accidents, Paul Swedlepipe, Ten Eyck and
Hans Drinker were by themselves. As neither of these worthies would be
dictated to by the other, the house was divided against itself. All the
rest of the men were either wounded or prisoners.

“You look a little out,” said Hans, “unt see if dem Yankees out dar’,
Paul Swedlepipe.” The Dutchmen, as if the occasion called for it, now
talked in English.

“Vat you dink, Hans Drinker? You dells _me_ vas I must do? No. _You_ go
look mit your own eyes, schoost like pung in a peer barrel.”

“I pe de oldest; I commands dis house,” said Ten Eyck.

“Don’t you vant to puy a _horse_?” demanded Paul, in a threatening tone,
by way of reminding his adversary of the battle they had fought in the
horse-corral. Ten Eyck subsided instanter.

“I commands dish house,” asserted Drinker, “by orders mit te commandant.”

“You’s a liar,” said Ten Eyck.

“So he is,” said Paul, “and you’s a pigger liar.”

At this moment a sound was heard like the ripping up of a bark roof. All
three cast their eyes upward.

“Vat’s dat?” asked Ten Eyck.

“You go and see,” replied Paul.

“I’ll see you in—Amsterdam first,” answered the other, stoutly. “You go,
Hans Drinker.”

“I won’t,” said Hans. He lighted his pipe, and sat down to smoke. Paul
and Ten Eyck followed his example.

The ripping of boards continued, and something could be heard dropping
upon the floor above.

“Something cooms into dis ’ous’,” quoth Hans, taking his pipe from his
mouth to say it.

“Dink so myself,” rejoined Paul.

“Yaw, den vas shall happen?”

“You go see.”

“Nix—nay—_no_! You go, Ten Eyck.”

“Nein!” thundered Ten Eyck, puffing away with great vigor at the long
pipe. As he spoke, the doorway was darkened, and four of the detested
Windsor men sprung into the room. They had mounted the roof, torn off the
bark roofing, and dropped into the garret.

“Surrender!” cried the foremost, as he drew near. “No use of fighting.
Who commands here?”

“Me!” burst simultaneously from three pair of lips.

“All of you, eh? A corporate body, this. Come, boys, let’s bind these
fellows fast and leave them.”

With this benevolent intention he approached Hans Drinker. When he came
near enough, it suddenly occurred to the Dutchman that it would be no
more than his duty to fight a little. Accordingly, he unexpectedly let
go his right fist, taking the Yankee under the ear. This prowess excited
the others to feats of valor. Paul seized a stool upon which he had been
seated, and hurled it at the head of his adversary. Ten Eyck grabbed the
poker from the wide fireplace, and attacked his adversary with great zeal.

But fire soon burns out when the fuel is scant. Hans, conceiving that he
had done his duty to the State of Holland, submitted to be bound, after
knocking down his man. This left four men to two. Paul was overpowered in
a moment; but Ten Eyck retreated to a corner, from which he menaced all
who dared approach with the poker. This at first excited laughter on the
part of the men, but soon turned to anger at his pertinacity. He stood
near the fire and thrust the poker into the hot coals when it was likely
to become cool.

“This Dutchman is too hot,” said one of the men. “Let us cool him.”

A large tub of dirty water stood in one corner of the room. Two of the
men brought this and placed it in front of the obdurate Hollander.

“Will you give up?” cried the leader.

“Nein!” replied Ten Eyck. “Never so long as I pe shoost as I am.”

“Lift her, boys!” was the order. The two men raised the tub from the
floor. “One—two—three—and away!”

The contents of the tub were discharged upon the person of Ten Eyck,
cooling his ardor and poker at the same time. As he stood there, with the
water running in streams from every angle upon his figure, the men threw
themselves upon him, and tied him neck and heels.

“That job is done,” said the leader. “Now, boys, follow me, but you, Seth
Mather, had better stay with the prisoners.”

One of the men sat down to keep guard, and the rest passed out into the
open space within the works. The rest of the men stood there, waiting for
the issue of the work upon the first house. The leader reported.

“You have done well,” said Holmes. “Very well, indeed. Let us hail this
house.”

He approached the building in which Van Curter was, with the strongest
party in the works. In answer to his hail, Van Curter himself came to the
window.

“Who is there?” he cried.

“King George and Captain Holmes, of Windsor.”

“To what am I to attribute the honor of this visit?”

“To my ardent desire to return your late courteous visit to my quarters.
It’s a reciprocation of favors. We Yankees never like to be in debt long
for such things.”

“Bah! you talk too much, like all Englishmen. Do you design to take this
post?”

“I do. I have now more men than you. Counting the wounded, those taken
prisoners at the first rush, and those in yonder house, half your force
is out of the battle. You have just seventeen men.”

“You are well informed.”

“I always aim to be so. Do you surrender?”

“Give me an hour to consider?”

“I will give you five minutes.”

“Your demands are hard. What are your terms?”

“You will find them easy. You shall have permission to march out under
your own colors, with your arms and personal property. We want nothing
but the House of Good Hope.”

“We shall keep our colors?”

“Yes, even to the red color of your noses.”

“And our side-arms?”

“Every thing that is Dutch.”

“In short, all you demand is the surrender of the work itself?”

“Precisely; clear out—that is all.”

“Then I will open the door; your terms are generous, and I believe are
made in good faith.”

“You must submit to be imprisoned in one of the houses until all your men
are in my hands.”

“I will attend to that,” said Van Curter. “Place a guard upon my men here
and come with me.”

The doors were thrown open. The ten men were placed in a room by
themselves and a guard placed over them. Holmes, Willie and Van Curter
now proceeded toward the other house, and Van Curter called the name of
Captain Van Zandt. He knew the voice and came to the window immediately.

“Is that you, Van Curter?” he asked.

“It is I; open.”

“Are the English gone?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I have surrendered.”

“Coward!”

“Be careful, sir! I repeat, I have surrendered the place. It was useless
to resist. The terms are noble. We are to be allowed to march out with
drums and colors, and make our way to the islands. Our private property
is ours. In short, better terms were never given. Therefore open your
doors and give yourselves up.”

“I never drew a cowardly breath in my life, Van Curter. This house is my
castle; I will keep it against all who come against it.”

“I tell you I have surrendered,” shouted Van Curter.

“And I tell _you_ that _I_ have _not_! And, what is more, I don’t intend
to. I have a strong house, and the best of your men, and the morning is
at hand. I will give a good account of myself, and drive the ragamuffins
of Captain Holmes back to their filthy quarters.”

“You use modest terms,” said Holmes.

“Ah-ha. You are there, Yankee? I give you good-night.”

“You refuse to surrender?”

“Yes; refuse to the bitter end.”

“Then we must make you do it.”

“Do it if you can.”

Holmes stepped back and took a survey of the building. His practiced eye
at once took in its strong points. The doors were of hewn oak, crossed
by heavy iron clamps. On the inside, so Van Curter told them, were heavy
bars of seasoned wood, tough and elastic as so much steel, set into iron
rings upon either side of the door. These bars were four in number, at
equal distances from each other. No common power could force one of these
doors from its fastening. These entrances were two in number, one at
the front and one at the back. The windows were seven in number; two
in front, two on each side, and one at the back of the house, fastened,
like the doors, by solid wooden bars. These particulars they gained from
Van Curter, who was angry at the young captain for refusing to yield. He
determined to try him once more, but found him very obstinate. He then
demanded that his daughter should be permitted to leave the house. This
was refused at once.

“Let me understand you, Joseph. Do you mean to tell me, seriously, that
you intend to keep my daughter in the house during the attack which will
be made upon it?”

“I do.”

“Then by that act you at once cancel any trust between us.”

“Let it be as you say. I will make a new bond between us.”

“Will you let my daughter and her cousin go?”

“No, I will not.”

“Why?”

“I keep them as a safeguard. They are the tools by which we will drive
these Yankees away from Good Hope. You will understand it better when you
know that there is to be no childs’-play here—no fighting with cudgels,
as we fought at Windsor. But, with bullet, knife and sword we will make
the house good. Every ball from a rifle which enters this house will put
the life of your daughter in jeopardy. Katrine also will be in danger,
which _is_ a pity, since she is beloved by worshipful Boston Bainbridge.
Where is that godly youth? He should be here to defend her.”

At these words there was a slight commotion in the rear of the group, and
a man strode forward and addressed the captain. It was Boston Bainbridge.
But, what a change had taken place in him! His hair, before rugged and
unkempt, was now allowed to fall loose upon his shoulders after the
manner of the cavaliers. He was carefully and richly dressed; the belt
which encircled his waist bore a long sword and a pair of pistols. His
air was defiant, as seen in the gory light of the coming morning.

“You have called for Boston Bainbridge,” said he, “and he who hath borne
that name for years now stands before you in his own person, Lieutenant
Robert Holmes. What is this I hear? Does yonder knave dare to make women
a target for his protection? How now, sir; do you claim to be a _man_,
and yet need a woman for a safeguard?”

“So Boston Bainbridge is dead, and one has arisen who is of my degree,
and we may cross swords with honor. What care I for what man can say of
me? I know my power. The fair Theresa is in my hands; Katrine is in those
of Carl Anselm. Believe me when I say that they might better be in the
hands of the devil. Draw off your men and leave the place, or we will do
that which will make you and them wish they had never been born. Away, I
say.”

The fearful threat implied in the words of Van Zandt startled his
listeners; there was a quick glance from man to man, to see if every face
looked as ghastly as each felt his own to be. The girls were in the power
of this villain indeed. How could they be succored?

“Joseph,” said the commandant, in a pleading tone. “Remember that we have
been friends for many years, and that I have ever listened kindly to your
suit. You are jesting now. You would not harm my child. Throw open your
doors and let us enter.”

“I will not. We will fight while a hope remains, and when that hope is
gone, you shall have your daughter, as she will be then, not as she is
now!”

“God’s curse upon you, villain. Do you not heed a father’s agony?”

“Not a whit. You have given up the work like a coward, and I no longer
respect you.”

“This shall be answered at the sword’s point,” cried Van Curter, striking
his hand upon his sword-hilt until it rung loudly in the scabbard.

“As you will. I fight no old man without teeth unless he forces it upon
me. Your young friends there might take it off your hands.”

“And they shall!” cried Robert Holmes, Boston Bainbridge no more. “Or my
right hand has forgot its cunning. Hark you, sir; _dare_ you come out and
fight me?”

“I hope I am not such a fool. What surety have I that I should ever see
the inside of this house again?”

“My word.”

“Bah! The word of Boston Bainbridge!”

“Boston Bainbridge is dead. I stand here in his place, a man of honor and
of family, and dare you to the fight.”

“It will not do,” replied the other. “I have the advantage now, and
relinquish it I will not. Go your ways, Lieutenant Boston Bainbridge
Holmes, spy and cheat that you are, and let us go ours. It will be
better.”

The friends drew off and consulted for some time. There seemed no
feasible way of getting into the house, with the fearful menace of Van
Zandt before their eyes. It was fully concluded to appear to draw off
from the house, and by underhand means to gain an entrance. This was
communicated to the defenders of the house, and every one appeared to
leave the spot. Leaving the window to the care of one of his men, the
Dutch captain turned aside into the little room in which the girls were
confined. They sat upon the bed, with their arms entwined about each
other, weeping, for every word of the conversation without had come to
their ears.

“Go into the next room, Katrine,” said Joseph, “and do me the favor to
keep your ear from the crack. I wish to talk with Theresa.”

“I shall stay here,” replied Katrine.

“Fool!” was the uncomplimentary rejoinder. “Must I send for Carl Anselm
to drag you out by force?”

“No, no!” pleaded the girl. “Any one but Carl.”

“I should please you if I sent for Bainbridge, only that worthy is dead.”

“Was it true,” said Katrine, turning her tearful eyes upon him. “Is he
indeed dead? Tell me when and by whose hand. I heard you say that he was
dead. Until then, I thought it was _his_ voice.”

“He died by his own hand,” was the pitiless reply. “Boston Bainbridge
is no more. The man whose voice you heard was Lieutenant Robert Holmes.
Leave the room.”

Katrine obeyed, passing into the next apartment and closing the door.
She took the precaution to bolt the door upon the inside, so that Carl,
who had uttered fearful threats since she had been a prisoner, could not
enter. He came soon and rattled at the door, but she would not let him
in.

In the next room Joseph and Theresa stood face to face. There was a
settled gloom upon the face of the man. His fate was following him so
close that it appalled him. He begun to doubt if, after all, he should
succeed in his undertaking. Ho grew desperate, as he looked at the girl,
who was wonderfully calm in his presence.

“Why do you come?” she asked.

“I come to speak for your good, Theresa. I have told you many times that
love for you had taken a deep root in my heart. Do what you can, be cold
or disdainful, the feeling is the same. You have made me a desperate man.
I have you utterly in my power, you and Katrine. One thing only will open
yonder doors, and set you free.”

“And that thing—”

“Is to take a solemn oath upon this holy sign” (making the cross on his
breast) “that you will never marry another while I live, and that you
will be my wife when I ask it.”

“If you had studied all your life to devise a cruel sentence, your study
could not have brought to life a more wicked one than this. No, Joseph
Van Zandt, you have had my answer. I have nerved myself to meet death, if
it must be, sooner than be your wife.”

“You must swear it upon the cross,” he rejoined, “lest a worse fate come
to you. Reflect, and tell me if there is not at least one thing worse
than death. Reflect, too, that this fate shall be yours, and that of the
sniveling fool in the next room, if you refuse. The threat of what I
would do has driven your brave friend away from the house. I have sworn
to do it, and I will keep my word.”

“God will protect me.”

“I am an unbeliever. Your faith can not shake me. Perhaps He will protect
you. Perhaps He will batter down these strong gates, and let your friend
in. It is very probable! Foolish girl! yield while the way is clear.”

“No, I will not. My friends will attack the house and set me free. You
shall feel what it is to arouse the vengeance of a true man. Go; you are
a coward. The heart of a dog beats in your breast. You threaten a woman,
and make her love for her friends work against her for your own foul
ends. You never had one true feeling in your heart. What you call love
for me is only a passion, which would burn itself out in a twelve-month.
Leave me, and do your worst.”

He rushed from the room, closing the door violently behind him. Carl
stood with his face against the wall of the room, gnawing his nether lip
with such energy that the blood started from beneath his white teeth. The
two men saw in each other’s faces the mirror wherein to read their own
hearts.

“I hear strange sounds,” said Carl; “and blood seems to run before my
eyes. If she were to open that door now, I should kill her. I am getting
mad, I think. Was I not right about that devil upon earth? I will kill
him yet, for he is the cause of all this.”

“You were right enough. He is a brave fellow, in his gay clothes.”

“To see him now, with his hair curled and his sword at his thigh! To hear
the grand tone in which he speaks! Will he take her, now that she is in a
more lowly station than he? It would be much to hope that he would slight
her now. Oh, that he would?”

“But he will not. These Puritans have queer ideas of honor, and would
think it a shame to their manhood to break faith plighted to a woman. I
have given your little fool a bitter pill to swallow. I told her he was
dead. She heard enough of our conversation to hear us say that, and she
believes it. Do these rascals show any signs of a desire to attack us?”

“I have lost sight of some of them, and can not tell where they are gone.
The rest sit out yonder by the other houses, eating breakfast.”

“Whom do you miss?”

“Robert Holmes is gone, and so is your friend Barlow. What if they
_should_ set the girls free.”

“The windows are bolted.”

“I know it, on the inside. What is to hinder the girls from opening them?”

“They are spiked down. I tell you they have not the strength to open
one, even if they could get a signal from the outside. Did you see those
fellows go away?”

“They slipped out of sight, and I think went out of the gate. After that,
I came to this door and tried to get in.”

“And failed.”

“Yes; it is bolted.”

“I didn’t think Katrine would do it. I begin to respect her. What is
that, Jan?”

The man who was at the window spoke:

“The truce is over, sir.”

“Are they coming?”

“Yes, captain.”

“Get your guns ready, then. Where is your rifle, Carl?”

“Here, sir.”

“Mark that Barlow.”

“I can not. My bullet has another work to do. When Robert Holmes is dead
it is at your service.”

“Say you so. Well, I do not care. I have no love for him. These rascals
come on slowly. They are well versed in woodcraft. Something different
from the way our blockheads came up to the stockade at Windsor. Fire
whenever you get a chance, boys.”

The men of Windsor came forward with care, sheltering themselves as
well as they could behind the buildings in the works. As they came to
the last one, they paused and begun a close fire upon the house. Every
head which showed itself at a loop-hole became the mark of a bullet. One
of Van Zandt’s men was shot through the head before they had been in
action five minutes. The defenders saw that it was no boys’-play now, and
hesitated about approaching the windows. The captain ordered them all to
lie down, knowing that their fire could do no harm unless the men exposed
themselves. He took his place at one of the loops to watch, taking care
not to give any of the marksmen a shot. But a lively fire was kept up,
and he dared not go away.

“Watch that side, Carl,” he said, pointing to the other loop. “If they
get under the walls we shall have trouble.”

The moment Joseph left the room Theresa was upon her feet, and the strong
bar dropped into its place before the door. Then, looking into the other
room, she called to Katrine.

“Rouse up, dear,” she said. “Do not lie down like a child. You have
bolted your door—good. When these dear creatures in the next room come
for us we may not be here. Bring me that stool. We will give them the
slip yet. See if we do not.”

“Oh, Theresa,” said Katrine, rising, “_he_ is dead!”

“Don’t you believe it. That fellow can lie, and you know it. Hold this
stool steady so that I shall not fall.”

Katrine obeyed, and Theresa mounted the stool, and took down a stout
saber which hung from a pair of branching antlers over her head. She
lifted the stout weapon, and looked at it with beaming eyes.

“My grandfather’s sword,” she said. “It has struck good blows for
the honor of his nation. May it do as much for the honor of his
granddaughter.”

Assisted by Katrine, Theresa mounted the wide window-sill, and strove to
pry up the spikes which had been driven in to close the lattice. But they
were strong and resisted her best efforts. Seeing the uselessness of this
attempt, she begun to cut away the inner fastenings of the lattice bars,
and with the aid of the now active Katrine, at length succeeded with but
little noise, in detaching the ends of these bars. The way of escape was
then gained, since it was hardly five feet from the ground.

“We are safe,” whispered Theresa. “Let us thank God.”

The two fell upon their knees for a moment, before they attempted an
escape. The shots had begun to fall about the building. Katrine passed
out first, and Theresa followed, still bearing her grandfather’s sword.

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