As she pleaded in the
darkness, she heard the man breathing quickly, and shuffling his
feet on the floor. He was hesitating. He longed to go up to the
city, but this seemed a dangerous expedient. Yet it would serve
Esther, and she was very fair, and was of his own kindred. There
was a noise and clamour downstairs beneath them--the sound of the
slow unbarring of bolts, and angry voices without. Esther drew
nearer, and her voice grew sharp with fear:
"Hiram, as they are pushing you to the carriage, I will throw
myself into your arms, and you shall kiss me your last farewell, as
if you were Nicholas."
In the darkness she felt that the man stretched out his hand.
"Give me the clothes; I will go."
Esther threw them into his arms, and darted out, closing the door,
and hung over the stair-rail. There was no light, but she could
hear the heavy footsteps coming up. Nearer they came, and nearer,
stumbling, and Solomon's step behind, as he followed the priests,
grumbling and protesting. Now they were almost opposite the door of
the room where Nicholas crouched waiting.
"He is not here! he is not here!" wailed out Esther's voice
suddenly from above, and the priests hearing her, rushed up the
stairs to where she stood, passing by, forgotten, the door of the
lower room.
Rigid and tense she stood before the door as if guarding it, her
arms outstretched before it.
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