Again the vine broke, and when I
picked her up I found that she had lost her breath by the fall, but she
laughed as soon as her breath returned, and was in no way discouraged.
In a moment she tried again, despite my protest, saying she would go more
slowly and use greater care in choosing the larger vines. This time she
was determined to succeed, so she again tied the leather reins about her
arm, grasped the vine, and within two minutes was standing on the upper
coping of the second-story window, her waist on a level with the sill of
the window of the star.
The wind howling through the trees and around the corner of the tower
made so great a din that at first we did not hear what Betty said to
attract Frances's attention, but presently, the storm lulling for a
moment, we listened intently and heard her say:--
"It is Betty Pickering."
We supposed she spoke in response to an inquiry from within, and we were
right, for almost instantly the curtains parted, the window opened, and
we saw Frances standing in the light of Raphael's star--a candle.
Up to that time I had been incredulous of Lilly's wisdom, and while I
had hoped to find my cousin, I had little faith in the result. But now
conviction came with a shock and, notwithstanding my joy at seeing
Frances, I found myself forgetting where I was in wondering whether Lilly
were a god, a devil, or merely a shrewd charlatan who had obtained his
wonderfully accurate knowledge from something that had happened in the
past wherein the king was concerned, or from some one who knew where
Frances had been taken.
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