language was spoken. Being just about to rise, furnished with provisions for our companions, a loud rap announced some one at the door:—the woman started up, seized me by the arm, and, pushing me into the next room, exclaimed, "Pour l'amour de Dieu par ici, les gens d'armes." Although we felt sure it was Whitehurst, yet we had no objection to see the result of this manœuvre, and therefore made no resistance to her wishes, but complied with seeming reluctance; still, as it was possible he might have knocked to warn us of the approach of some one, we followed her to the back door; at parting, she took me by the hand, and repeated her assurance of the impossibility of getting off from Blankenberg that night, and desired us to return, adding, "Good night, friends, I shall see you again." Nothing but a thorough conviction of our being absconding prisoners of war, added to a sincere regard for the English, could have produced such conduct; certainly neither our actions nor accent betrayed us, for they were less foreign to the French than her own.
