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diff --git a/37042-8.txt b/37042-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..38207e6 --- /dev/null +++ b/37042-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13906 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Coming of the King, by James Hocking + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Coming of the King + +Author: James Hocking + +Illustrator: Grenville Manton + +Release Date: August 11, 2011 [EBook #37042] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COMING OF THE KING *** + + + + +Produced by Thierry Alberto, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + + THE COMING OF THE KING + + By JOSEPH HOCKING + +_Author of "All Men are Liars" "The Scarlet Woman" "A Flame of Fire" +etc., etc._ + + ILLUSTRATIONS BY GRENVILLE MANTON + + + LONDON: + WARD LOCK & CO. LIMITED + 1904 + + +[Illustration: "'My name is Roland Rashcliffe, your Majesty.'" (_Page +130._)] + + + + + CONTENTS + + + I THE COMING OF KATHARINE HARCOMB 7 + + II THE SECRET OF THE BLACK BOX 17 + + III THE KING'S MARRIAGE CONTRACT 28 + + IV THE HAPPENING AT THE INN 39 + + V A MIDNIGHT MEETING 49 + + VI THE OLD HOUSE AT PYCROFT 59 + + VII THE MYSTERY OF PYCROFT 69 + + VIII HOW I ENTERED PYCROFT 79 + + IX FATHER SOLOMON AT BAY 89 + + X THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON 99 + + XI THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER 110 + + XII THE COMING OF THE KING 121 + + XIII AN ADVENTURE ON THE CANTERBURY ROAD 133 + + XIV HOW I SAW A MAN WHO BECAME FAMOUS! 142 + + XV MASTER STURGEON, THE GAOLER 153 + + XVI THE ESCAPE 164 + + XVII HOW I LEFT BEDFORD 174 + + XVIII JAMES, DUKE OF YORK 185 + + XIX THE SCENE AT THE PARISH CHURCH 195 + + XX THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON 205 + + XXI HOW I VISITED BEDFORD A SECOND TIME 216 + + XXII THE CHAPEL OF HERNE 227 + + XXIII THE JOURNEY TO WINDSOR 238 + + XXIV CHARLES II AS JUDGE 248 + + XXV THE JUDGMENT OF THE KING 258 + + XXVI FLEET PRISON 268 + + XXVII HOW I LEFT FLEET PRISON 278 + + XXVIII WHAT HAPPENED ON THE BEDFORD ROAD 288 + + XXIX THE PURITAN'S COTTAGE 298 + + XXX HOW I LEFT MY OLD HOME 309 + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE COMING OF KATHARINE HARCOMB + + +The history which I propose writing will, I believe, be of value for +various reasons. It will clear my name from various aspersions, and it +will enable me to explain what, to many, seem events of an extraordinary +nature. For I have done nothing which makes me fear the light, neither +have I any desire to offer excuses for the actions which shall be here +set down. What I have done I have done in good faith, knowing all the +time of the probable results which would follow. + +Moreover, I think it is well that many of the happenings of the time of +which I write should be recorded, for surely the days of my youth were +strange days, full of intrigue, full of mystery; and more, they were +days in which one of the greatest battles ever known in our country was +fought, a battle which had momentous issues in the life of our people. + +Not that I am able to give a description of many events which took +place. That would be impossible; but as I was drawn, in spite of myself +as it seems to me, to be an actor in many stirring scenes, I have had +peculiar opportunities for knowing the truth. In addition to this, I was +trained by my father to follow the custom of the times, and to describe +in a diary an account of my daily doings. I shall therefore be able, if +ever my memory fails me, to refer to the books which have been carefully +kept, and thus place a correct account of matters before those who +happen to read. + +I had a peculiar training even for youths of that period. For from the +time of Archbishop Laud to the coming of King Charles II, nearly every +family of note took sides in the great struggle through which the +nation passed. Either a man was a Royalist or a Parliamentarian, a +believer in the supreme and unquestionable rights of the king, or a +supporter of the new order of things. There seemed no half-way house +wherein a man might rest. Thus the nation was divided into two great +camps, and if one was not in one of these camps he was in the other. But +I was trained to hold myself aloof from both, and to distrust them +equally. + +The reason for this can be quickly told. During the great struggle +between Cromwell and the king, my father fought against the Ironside +General. Indeed, he gave of his substance freely. He impoverished +himself to replenish the king's coffers, and he armed his family +retainers in order to keep him on the throne. In the early days of the +war, moreover, he was an enthusiastic supporter of the king, and trusted +in his royal words implicitly. But after the Battle of Naseby, when the +king's papers were taken, and it was made known that Charles had +deceived on every hand, my father lost faith in him, and declared he +would never trust a king's word again. Not that he threw in his lot with +Cromwell, thus following the example of many others. Rather he cut +himself adrift from public affairs, and sought to live in seclusion. + +But here a difficulty faced him. His resources were much diminished by +what he had devoted to the king's cause, and added to this, so much of +his property was taken from him in the troublous days which followed, +that while he still kept the old home near Epping Forest, he was scarce +able to maintain it. He was a country gentleman, bearing an old name, +who could barely afford to keep the horse he rode, or the servants who +waited at his tables. This (for my father was a very proud man) +embittered him much, and caused him to lose faith in friend and foe +alike. He despised the king who had deceived both his followers and +those who fought against him, and he spoke of the Presbyterians and +Independents as a crack-brained and sour-faced crew, who would make the +country a place unfit for a gentleman to live in. + +"I trust neither of them, my son," he would often say to me. "I gave my +blood and my fortune to the king, and he deceived me by lying promises +and false statements: as for this Puritan crew, they have robbed me of +my possessions until I, who at the time of the Short Parliament was a +rich man, have not the means of giving my only son either a good horse +to ride, or money to put in his purse." + +"I will gain both, father," I said, for in those days I was ardent and +hopeful, believing that everything was possible to a brave heart and a +strong arm. + +"But how?" cried my father. "The king's cause is dead, even if it would +have benefited thee by fighting for it. As for these canting Puritans, +no man can gain aught from them, unless he will quote Scripture, and cry +'Down with the Prayer-book.' In truth there is no cause which an +honourable man can espouse, and thus carve his way to fortune." + +"The opportunity will come some day," I replied confidently. + +My father shook his head. "It cannot be," he said. "England is governed +by canting hypocrites, and there is not a man in the country whom we can +trust. I tell thee Roland, I am sorely grieved for thee. I have no +fortune to give thee, neither are there means whereby a man bearing the +name of Rashcliffe can honourably win one. Marriage seems impossible. +Not one maid do I know, who would wed a penniless lad like thee; by that +I mean a maid of family and dowry. I am known among men as penniless +Rashcliffe, and such a name makes it impossible for my son to make a +suitable marriage." + +"But surely there must be means whereby a man may carve his way to +fortune?" + +"Tell me about them, Roland. Where can we find them? Those who, like I, +have been foolish enough to trust the king and fight for his cause are +left wellnigh penniless and friendless. We have been deceived, tricked +as if by a cunning card-player. I tell you there is no honour among +kings. As for the Puritans, could you play the knave in order to gain +their favour? Could you mimic their pious whine, and curse both bishops +and Prayer-book?" + +"No, I could not," I replied, for although my father had taught me to +have no faith in men, he still tried to teach me to be an honourable +gentleman. + +"I know," he went on, "that many hope for the death of Cromwell. Well, +that may happen any day, and then what shall we see? In all probability +Oliver will make provision whereby his son shall take his place. But +even if he doth not, and Charles were to come back, would such as I be +benefited? Would the new king see to it that my estates were restored to +me? The new King Charles would be the son of the old King Charles. The +new king would be a Stuart, and never again can I trust a Stuart." + +"Is there no hope then?" I asked despondently, for the constant +repetition of such speeches had made me believe that no man was to be +trusted. + +"There is no hope except you can get men in your power," replied my +father. + +"In my power?" I repeated, for I scarce knew what he meant. + +"Ay, in your power, Roland. There is a secret in most men's lives. If +you can find that secret, you are a force to be reckoned with. You then +have the means whereby you can fight your way into position. Look here. +Charles Stuart is now in France. Supposing Oliver Cromwell were to die, +and the people, tired of Puritan rule, were to welcome him back to the +kingdom. Do you think he would remember that I, Philip Rashcliffe, am +impoverished by fighting for his father? If I went to him, and said, +'Sire, I have scarce a horse to ride on, scarce a crown to put in my +purse; I have lost all through fighting for your father's throne,' do +you think he would cause the Rashcliffe lands to be restored? Nay, he +would say, aloud, 'Master Rashcliffe, we will look into this matter, and +you may trust us to see that justice shall be done;' but to himself he +would say, 'What is there to be gained by doing aught for this man? He +is plain and blunt, and I shall gain nought by troubling about him. +Besides, there be a hundred others who come with the same tale. Let me +to my wine.' Ay, but if Charles discovered that I knew something which +affected him deeply, then would he for self-preservation desire to do me +justice." + +"But that would be blackmailing," I cried. + +"Nay, it would not; it would be simply using the means at my disposal +for getting back my own." + +"Know you of aught, that you say this?" I asked, at which my father +shook his head. + +It will be seen from this that I was taught to trust no man or party. +Moreover, as the years went by my father influenced me by his own +desponding views, so that I, unlike most youths, felt no ardour for any +cause, and believed but little in any man. As to women, I knew nothing +of them, for, besides our kitchen wenches and servant maids, scarcely a +woman ever entered Rashcliffe Manor. My father desired no company, and +even if he had so desired, he was too poor to give hospitality in a way +befitting his station. As for myself I was too proud to seek +acquaintance among those of lower degree than myself, while those of my +own rank had, through my father's seclusion, shut their doors against +his son. Thus I knew nought of women. I believed that, poor as I was, no +woman of name and fortune would deign to notice me, and it was not for +my father's son to go unbidden to the houses of those who still retained +their wealth. + +Presently Oliver Cromwell died, and I thought my father seemed to be +possessed of new hope; but when Richard, his son, was chosen Lord +Protector in his place, he simply shrugged his shoulders like a +Frenchman, and said that the country was not yet tired of psalm-singing. +During the months that followed he went often to London, in order, as he +said, to find out what Monk and Lambert were doing, and when at length +Richard Cromwell ceased to be Lord Protector, he grimly remarked that we +"should soon see gay doings." + +A little later the whole country was in a state of excitement. Charles +was recalled to England, the Royalists were jubilant, while the Puritans +looked forward with dread to the dark days which they felt sure were +near at hand. + +"We will go to meet the king," cried my father. + +"What!" I cried in astonishment, for my father had declared that he +would never again have aught to do with a Stuart. + +"Ay, we will go and meet him, Roland. You and I will ride together. +There are still two good horses left in the stables, and we will dress +ourselves in a way befitting gentlemen, and we will go to Dover, and +shout 'God save the King!' with the rest of the crowd." + +"But why?" I asked, for I felt no love for the man whom the people were +already calling "His Gracious Majesty King Charles II, the Lord's +Anointed One." + +"Ay, and that you shall know before the sun goes down," he replied. + +I looked at him in astonishment, for he had cast off the old look of +hopelessness and indifference so common to him, and seemed to believe +that brighter days were coming. + +"Do you believe in the new king?" I asked. + +"I believe a Stuart!" he replied, with scorn. "Nay, not so my son." + +"Men speak of him as a man with an open and generous nature," I +suggested. + +"Ay, and I knew him before he had to fly from the country," he replied. +"I tell you he is a Stuart. He hath the vices of both his father and his +grandfather. He will lie and deceive like Charles his father, and he +will turn his Court into a pigsty, like his grandfather James. In six +months from now Whitehall will be filled with swashbucklers and +wine-bibbers. Bad men and worse women will rule the country. God only +knows what will become of the Puritans, in spite of his fair promises. +But what of that? We will go and meet him!" + +"But you will gain nought." + +"Ay, I will, but there will be much to do first." + +"Much to do!" + +"Ay, much for thee to do, Roland. I have hopes that the Rashcliffe lands +will be mine again, and that my son will hold up his head among the +highest." + +"You think you will gain the favour of the king?" + +"Nay, but perchance I may gain his fear." + +"His fear?" + +"Ay, his fear. Or, better still, thou shalt gain his fear." + +"But why should the king fear me? I can do nought against him. I have no +power." + +"Knowledge is power," replied my father. + +"But I have no knowledge." + +"Nay, but thou shalt be in the way to get it before the sun goes down." + +At this I made no reply, but I looked at him in astonishment. + +"I do not speak wildly or foolishly," said my father. "I tell thee again +thou shalt know something of importance before the sun goes down. And +now get on the back of that colt Black Ben, which hath been lately +broken to the saddle, and ride him across the park lands yet left to us. +Get accustomed to his step, my boy, for when we meet the king, it is my +desire that King Charles may take note what a fine horseman you are." + +I went to the stables, therefore, and saddled Black Ben, a colt which +had been a kind of playmate to me, and which had required very little +breaking in order to allow me to ride him. For however he might treat +another rider, to me he was gentleness itself. I was proud of Black Ben, +for he was the first horse I ever possessed on which the neighbours cast +eyes of envy. Indeed, my father had been offered a good price for him, +but although he wanted the money sadly he refused to sell it. + +"No," he said, "thou hast a horse at last, Roland, and thou shalt keep +it. I will sell some milch cows before Black Ben shall go." + +He was a large noble animal, as black as the wing of a raven, and free +from spot or blemish of any sort. I had never tested his speed, but I +knew that there was not a horse between me and London town that I could +not pass if I gave Black Ben rein. + +He gave me a whinny as he saw me, and presently rubbed his nose against +my sleeve by way of greeting. + +"You are going to meet the new king, Black Ben, my boy," I said as I +patted him, and again he whinnied as though he understood me. + +A few minutes later I was flying across the park on Ben's back. I was at +this time nearly twenty-three years of age, and having taken after my +father, was not a light man, but he bore me as though I were a feather. + +When I reached the park gates I saw old Adam Winkley, who still lived at +the cottage and called himself the gatekeeper, although there was no +need of his services. + +"Ah, Mester Roland," he said as I came up, "I do 'ear as 'ow the new +king is comin'." + +"Ay, so it is said." + +"Well, God bless the king! I be always a king's man, I be. I be noan for +Old Nol's crew. Not but what they can fight. Give Old Nol his due, he've +made the furriners see that the English caan't be bait." + +"We didn't need Old Nol to make them know that," I replied. + +"Well, as to that, Mester Roland, forgive me for not havin' the same +opinion as you; but I fought in the wars with your father, and I shall +go lame to the end of my days because of it, and I know somethin' of +fightin'. This I knaw, the furinners never feared the English so much as +they did durin' Old Nol's time. Not that I believed in him. I bean't a +young man, but I still like a carouse I do, and I like good ale, and +plenty of it, and I say let people enjoy themselves. And I reckon we +shall see a change soon. When young Charles do come, we shall no longer +have these sour-faced Independents rulin' the roost, and so I say with a +full heart, God bless King Charles." + +I let the old man talk in this way for old time's sake. He had served +our family all his life, and although others had left during our fallen +fortunes, he had remained faithful. + +"And when do the king come, Mester Roland?" + +"Next Tuesday, I have heard, but I am not quite sure." + +"Then I shall start to walk to Dover town on Monday morning, so as to be +in time to see him land." + +"Ah, then I shall see you there. Both my father and I are going." + +"I be right glad. I be in hopes that the new king will do your father +justice, Master Roland, and that we shall see gay doings at Rashcliffe +again. God save the king, I say." + +At this moment my attention was drawn from old Adam by a woman who was +walking towards my father's house. As far as I could judge she was +somewhat advanced in years, although she walked with a strong sturdy +step. She gave a hasty glance in my direction, and then kept her face +steadily towards the house. + +"Know you who that is?" I asked of Adam. + +"No!" replied old Adam; "it can't be she?" + +"Can't be who?" + +"Can't be Katharine Harcomb; and yet she has her walk. But Katharine is +dead. I've heard it many a time." This he said as though he were talking +to himself rather than to me. + +"But who is Katharine Harcomb? I never heard her name." + +"No, she left Rashcliffe before you were born, and yet she was maid to +your mother. She was a gay one, was Katharine. What Katharine didn't +know wasn't worth finding out. Ay, and a handsome maid she was too. As +for darin', there was nothing she wouldn't do. One day she dressed in +your mother's fine clothes and the other servants didn't know her, she +looked such a grand lady. They all curtsied to her, thinking she was +some visitor who had come unbeknowing to them. Ay, Katharine could act +the lady, she could. Why, it is said the young king fell in love with +her when he was Prince Charles, but of that I'll say nothing. Still, +this woman can't be she, although she's got her look and her walk. +Katharine died years ago--there can be no doubt about that." + +By this time the woman was out of sight, while I turned my horse's face +towards London, and rode a few miles in that direction before returning +to the house. + +It was drawing towards evening when I got back, and on entering the +house I found that my father had given orders that he should be informed +of my return. + +"Roland," he said when at length I went to him, "will you come with me +into the library?" + +"Yes," I said, wondering at his grave demeanour. + +When I entered the library I almost gave a start, for in the room was +the woman I had seen in the park. She looked up at me, and there was, as +I thought, a bold and defiant expression in her eyes. She did not look +like a woman of birth and breeding, and yet no one would regard her as a +common serving woman. She possessed an air approaching gentility, and +although her clothes were much worn, they were of good material. + +"More mother than father," I heard her say. + +I looked at her awkwardly, for I knew not how to address her, and +although I lifted my hat and bowed as I would to a lady of my own +degree, I did so constrainedly, not feeling comfortable in her presence. + +"This is Mistress Katharine Harcomb," said my father. "She dwelt here +before you were born." + +The woman gave a laugh, which was half-defiant, half amused. + +"Ay, I dwelt here before you were born, Master Roland; since then I have +been dead, and now I am alive again." + +I did not like the woman. Not that she was evil-looking; rather, she +must have been very fair to look upon twenty years before, and even now +she retained much of the beauty of youth. But her voice was harsh, the +lines around her mouth suggested scorn and bitterness, while the strong +chin should have belonged to a man rather than to a woman. I could see +in a moment that she was not a woman to be trifled with; indeed, she +evidently possessed that imperious strength of will like unto that by +which Queen Elizabeth made strong men quail before her. + +"I pray you to pay good heed to what Mistress Harcomb hath to tell us," +said my father, "for it is no light matter concerning which she would +speak." + +I know not why, but my heart became heavy. I felt sure that the +knowledge which my father had spoken of as power to bend the will of +kings was somehow associated with this strong imperious looking woman +who gazed steadily into my eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE SECRET OF THE BLACK BOX + + +I must confess to a somewhat strange feeling in my heart when I looked +into the woman's face. I felt sure that she was trying to understand the +manner of man I was, so that she might make up her mind how far I could +be of service to her. For, from the very first I could not think of her +as a former serving woman of my mother. Humble of birth she might be, +but I was very sure that her thoughts were other than those of a serving +woman, and that she had mixed herself up with affairs of importance. Her +great dark searching eyes, her strongly moulded face, her determined +mouth all assured me that here was a woman of far-reaching plans, and +one who would stop at nothing to carry those plans into effect. + +"More mother than father," I heard her murmur again, and then she looked +from my father to me as though she were trying to discover the +difference between us. + +"Well, Katharine," said my father, "you have discovered what you set +your heart upon, and which you spoke of when I saw you in St. Paul's +Church." + +The woman laughed mockingly. + +"In less than a month the king will be in England," she said, "and, oh! +what a king!" and then she fell to scanning our faces again. + +"The people be already crying, 'God save the king!'" said my father. +"Already my old neighbours who fought for Charles I be looking forward to +the time when the Puritans will be despoiled like the Egyptians of old, +and when they will be rewarded for being faithful to the royalty." + +"Rewarded!" said the woman scornfully. "Will the eldest son of Charles I +ever reward an honest man? I know him, Master Rashcliffe. He will be +the dupe of every knave, the puppet of every hussy in England. He will +make promises without end, but he will be too idle to perform them. No +honest man will be the better for his return, and no one will have +justice unless that justice is forced from him." + +"But have you discovered aught?" asked my father. "You know what you +promised me. Moreover, when I last saw the dame with whom you had +lodgment at the back of Aldersgate Street, she said you had your hand +upon the proof." + +"And I am not one who makes promises lightly," replied the woman, +"neither am I a woman who, having made up her mind, is easily turned +aside. Nevertheless, there remaineth much to be done, Master Rashcliffe. +The matter is not child's play, and he who meddles with matters which +affect the king is in danger of being accused of treason. For Charles +Stuart can act to purpose when it suits him. That is why I have not come +to you before." + +Here again the woman ceased speaking and scanned me closely. + +"This son of yours hath never fought in the wars?" she said +questioningly. + +"Nay," replied my father. "During the first civil war he was too young +to bear arms. After that my heart was embittered. I would not have my +son uphold the claims of a man who was alike faithless to both enemies +and friends. Then, when Charles was beheaded, could I allow my son to +fight under Cromwell?" + +"He was a brave, strong man," replied the woman. + +"Ay, a brave strong man if you will. But not such a man as my son could +fight under. Besides, I would not have him mingle with such a crew as +this army fashioned under the New Model. Would I have my son become a +psalm-singing hypocrite? Would I have him taught to cry 'down with the +Prayer Book'? Would I have him made a sour-faced follower of old Nol, +learning to make pious speeches in order to gain promotion? No, I had +fought under the king's standard, and, although the king betrayed us +all, I would not have my son serve under my Lord Protector. +Nevertheless, Roland is no weakling, as you see, neither is he a fool. +Poor as I have been, I have seen to it that he hath learned something of +letters. He can write like a clerk, and can read not only in the English +tongue, but in Latin and in French." + +"In French?" said the woman eagerly, I thought. + +"Ay, in French. Besides without ever having served with the wars, he +knows everything of fighting that I could tell him, and as for +swordcraft, I doubt if there is a man in London town who could stand +against him." + +Again the woman looked at me eagerly, and then she broke out like one in +anger. + +"It is well, Master Rashcliffe, for, mark you, if what I have discovered +is true, he will need all his cleverness, all his learning, and all his +knowledge of swordcraft. We play for high stakes, Master +Rashcliffe--nothing less than the throne of England." + +"Ay, I gathered as much," said my father thoughtfully. + +"Look you here," went on the woman. "You desire to gain back your +estates; you desire, moreover, that your son Roland shall not be a +penniless, lackland squire like you. Why, I discovered as I came hither, +that for years this manor house hath been little better than a farm +kitchen, that such as Nicholas Beel, the blacksmith, who fought for +Cromwell, and 'praise be his name, Elijah of the Marsh,' and +'Grace-abounding Reuben,' who used to be one of your hinds, be now +fattening on your best farms." + +"Ay, it is so," cried my father angrily. "The very kitchen wenches of +twenty years ago laugh at me, and call me 'Landless Rashcliffe'." + +"And Charles Stuart will never give you back these lands unless he is +made," said the woman. + +"Ay, ay," said my father, "I know enough of him for that; but to your +tale, Katharine Harcomb. Tell me what you know." + +"I know that James, the new king's brother, is full of hope that Charles +will kill himself by revelry in a year," replied the woman. "I know that +he is next heir to the throne. I know that he is intriguing to get back +the Catholic religion to the country, and I know that neither Charles +nor James loves either you or yours." + +"And yet I fought for their father," said my father. + +"Ay, and like the honest man thou art, declared that thou couldst never +fight for him again after the contents of his papers which were found on +Naseby field were made known," retorted the woman. "I know this, too, +that if Charles had gained the victory over Cromwell, thou wouldst have +been beheaded for what thou didst say at that time. Mark you, a Stuart +never forgets, and never forgives, for all the fair promises that they +make. Therefore if ever thou dost get back thine own, and if ever thy +son is to be more than a mere yeoman ploughing his own fields--ay, and +poor fields at that, for the best have all been taken away--he must be +able to force the new king's hand." + +"Ay, I know all this," replied my father impatiently, "but let us hear +what you have discovered, Katharine; let us know the truth concerning +the strange things I have heard." + +"It is no use telling of what I know, unless this son of thine be bold +enough to make use of it," replied the woman. "I am a girl no longer, +Master Rashcliffe; I am not so simple as I was in those days when I was +waiting maid to Mistress Rashcliffe. Enough to say that I have found out +sufficient to make Charles Stuart, who is even now preparing to come +back to England as king, eager not only to restore thy lands, but to +give a place of honour to Master Roland here. Ay, but that is not all. +The thing which I know to exist must be in our hands, ay, and in our +hands in such a way that we shall be able to make our own bargain with +the new king." + +"But what is it?" + +"It is this. James, Duke of York, is not the next heir to the throne." + +"Well, and what of that?" + +"This," replied the woman. "You have heard of the Welsh girl, Lucy +Walters?" + +"Ay, I have hear of her." + +"And you have heard of her son, a lad who goes by the name of James +Croft?" + +"Yes," said my father, "I have heard of him; but it doth not matter." + +"Ay, but it doth matter." + +"Why?" + +"Because he, although Charles Stuart will doubtless deny it, is the next +heir to the throne of England." + +My father started back in amazement. + +"He is Charles' son," continued the woman. + +"Ay, but----" + +"Charles married Lucy Walters--married her in Holland." + +"But the proof, the proof!" cried my father. + +"It is this proof of which I come to speak," said Katharine Harcomb. +"But answer me this: suppose the proof could be obtained, suppose the +box containing the contract of marriage between Charles Stuart and Lucy +Walters could be obtained--what then?" + +For a time my father was silent. Evidently he regarded the woman's +declaration of great import, and I saw that he carefully considered her +words. + +"Charles would not desire it to be known," he said at length. + +"Nay, that he would not," said the woman with a laugh; "but there is +more than that, Master Rashcliffe." + +"Ay, there is," said my father thoughtfully. "He who could be fortunate +enough to possess that marriage contract would be able to make his terms +not only with the king, but the king's brother." + +"Ah, you begin to see." + +"The man who possessed such a secret could stir up civil war in +England," said my father; "such a war that might well make men forget +the war between Charles I and Cromwell." + +"Ay," said the woman; "but what is more to our purpose, Master +Rashcliffe, he could make the king restore the Rashcliffe lands, and +gain for his son a place in England worthy his name." + +"And do others know of this secret, Katharine?" asked my father. + +"Yes," replied the woman; "it hath been guessed at by many, but I alone +know where the box containing the marriage contract is hidden. It hath +cost me much trouble to find out, but at last I have done it." + +I looked at the woman as she said this, and I thought there was a +furtive look in her eyes. + +"And how did you find it out?" asked my father presently. + +"Of that more anon," replied Katharine Harcomb. "Enough to say now that +this is the secret I promised to tell you, a secret which should give +you the power to make your own terms with the king. All now depends on +young Roland here." + +"On me!" I cried, speaking for the first time, although, as may be +imagined, I listened eagerly to every word which had been spoken. + +"Ay, on you," replied the woman, "for that marriage contract is in +hiding. It is hidden in a black box,[1] and may be obtained only with +difficulty. The question is, Master Roland, will you undertake the work +of bringing it hither?" + +[Footnote 1: As all students of history know, the story of the black box +containing the marriage contract between Charles II and Lucy Walters +obtained great credence after the Restoration, indeed, it is probable +that belief in its validity had much to do with the Monmouth rebellion +at a later date.--J. H.] + +"How old is the king's son?" I cried, for her story had excited my +imagination and appealed to that love for adventure which for a long +time had been struggling for expression. + +"How old?" repeated the woman; "he is a lad of about eleven years. At +present he is with the dowager queen." + +"And do you mean that he is the next heir to the English throne?" I +cried. + +"Ay, that he is," replied the woman; "and the man who can find the +marriage contract can go far to be one of the masters of England." + +"And if it be not brought to light?" I cried, "then if Charles has no +other son, the Duke of York will become king." + +"That is not the thing of import," replied the woman; "the thing that is +of weight is this: the man who hath the secret can make the king obey +him." + +But this was not the thought which fired my imagination. A great +overmastering desire came into my heart to place my hand upon this +marriage contract that I might be the means of doing justice to the +king's disowned son, and even as she spoke I found myself making plans +for going out into the world to unearth this secret. For it must be +remembered that I was but a lad of twenty-three, and that up to now, in +spite of my many day dreams, I had been kept mewed up in the old manor +with my father, knowing but little of what was going on in the great +world. + +Still, I was not so young but that I saw many difficulties in the way. I +reflected that we had only the word of this Katharine Harcomb, who had +lived at Rashcliffe Manor many years before, and who, according to +belief, had been dead for some time. Where had she been all these years? +what were her motives in seeking out this mystery? and more than all, +why had she chosen my father and myself as the men to whom she could +disclose this momentous secret? Not that these matters troubled me much. +I was too much excited by the story of the mystery to weigh well those +things which, had I been ten years older, I should have considered +carefully. Still, they came into my mind, and I was on the point of +putting them to her, when she rose from her chair and placed her hand on +my shoulder. I remember even then thinking how tall she was, for as I +stood by the fireplace, and she came up to me, her face was level with +mine, and I am not a short man. + +"Roland Rashcliffe," she said, "will you undertake this thing?" + +I looked at my father, who appeared to be pondering deeply. + +"Where is it?" I asked. + +"Where is what?" + +"This black box." + +"Before I make known where it is I must have your promise. Nay, Master +Roland, look not darkly at me, for this is no light matter. I dare not +make known the hiding place until I am assured that you will undertake +to go wherever it is, and then alone, and in secret, bring it hither." + +The words pleased me, although they raised more questions in my mind. I +liked the words "alone and in secret," even although I little understood +what they portended. + +"How came you to know these things?" I asked. + +"I saw the woman called Lucy Walters when she was in England," replied +Katharine Harcomb; "I saw her as she was taken to the Tower." + +"You saw Lucy Walters!" I cried. + +"Ay, I saw her. No wonder Charles Stuart loved her, for a more beautiful +woman I never set my eyes on. Ay, poor thing, she was neither wise nor +prudent, as she found out afterwards to her cost, but she was the +fairest maid to look upon that ever I clapped my eyes on. It is true her +first beauty had left her, and at that time she was in sore trouble, for +she was on her way to the Tower with soldiers on either side of her; +nevertheless, every man fell in love with her as she went. The +verse-makers have called her the 'nut-brown maid,' and well they might, +for her hair was the colour of ripe chestnuts when they are picked from +the trees in early October. It shone like the dowager queen's diamonds, +and hung around her head in great curling locks. Her eyes were brown +too, and sparkled like stars; even then roses were upon her cheeks, and +she walked like a queen." + +"But she was liberated from the Tower," said my father, "and went back +to France." + +"But not before I saw her, Master Rashcliffe," replied Katharine +Harcomb, "and not before she told me that she was Charles Stuart's +wedded wife." + +"She told you that?" + +"Ay, she told me that." + +"But did she tell you where the marriage contract was?" asked my father. + +"Of that I shall say nothing until I know whether Master Roland here +will undertake the work I have spoken of," and again the woman's dark +bright eyes scanned my face, as though she saw there an index to the +thoughts which possessed my mind. + +"Roland," said my father, "I would e'en talk with Katharine Harcomb +alone. Do you leave the room, and return in an hour's time." + +I did not much like this, for, as may be imagined, I was much +interested, and wanted to hear more of what the woman had to tell; but I +obeyed my father quickly as every dutiful son should, and went out of +the house into the park lands. + +The sun had now gone down, but it was not dark neither did I think it +would be throughout the whole night. For not only was there a moon, but +the sky was clear. Indeed, the time was the middle of May, when the air +was clear and the countryside was beauteous beyond words. It is true the +roses had not yet appeared, but the trees were wellnigh in full leaf, +for the season was early. Even the oaks and the ashes were covered with +spring leaves, which I saw shining in the light of the moon. No stars +appeared that night, the moon was so bright, and no sound did I hear +save the babbling of the trout stream that ran through the park, and now +and then the twitter of a bird which settled itself to rest. + +I walked along the grass-grown drive which led to the gates, wondering +about what the woman Katharine Harcomb had said, and thinking if ever +the time would come when carriages would be drawn up to the house as +they were in the days before the Long Parliament, and when my old home +would be full of gaiety. + +"This is a strange happening," I said to myself. "Ever since Richard +Cromwell died my father hath spoken of possible change to our fortunes +if Charles should come back, not because the king would do aught for us +of his own free will, but because we should gain the power to compel +him." + +And then as I thought of these things, in spite of the way the woman had +inspired my fancy by the story of the king's marriage, the whole thing +became like old wives' fables, and I was glad that I had not been led to +make any promises. + +I had barely got in sight of the gate where I had seen old Adam in the +earlier part of the day, when I heard the sound of footsteps. They were +not the footsteps of a man: of that I was certain. They were neither +firm enough nor heavy enough. Moreover, they were uncertain, and, as I +thought, feeble. I stopped and looked along the road, and saw the form +of a woman coming towards me. + +Bright although the moonlight was, I could not at first make out her +age or her station, but as she drew nearer I thought that she was old +and poor. + +"Whither go you, dame?" I asked as she came up. + +"And what is that to you, young master?" + +By this time I was able to see that she was bent, and that her clothes +were those of one of low degree. I knew by the way she spoke that she +was toothless, for her words were not clearly spoken. + +"It may be much to me, dame," I replied, "but whether it be or no, I +would warn you against going to the house yonder, for the dogs be let +loose of a night, and they would make short work of you." + +She mumbled some words which I could not understand; then looking up at +me, she said, "And who may you be, young master?" + +"I am Master Rashcliffe's son," I replied. + +At this she gave a start, and scanned me more eagerly than before. + +"Ay, ay, I should a' known," I heard her mumble, "I should a' known, for +did not Katharine tell me?" + +At this I was all ears again, and all eyes too for that matter, for +evidently she knew something of the woman who was even then at the house +talking with my father. + +"Dogs or no dogs, I must e'en go," she said presently. + +"Why? is your business of import?" I asked. + +"Ay, or I would not have come all the way from St. Paul's Cross to +Epping. For that matter I should never have got here did not a man +coming hither give me a lift on his cart. But, young master, tell me. +Hath a woman come to your father's house this day?" + +"What kind of a woman?" I asked. + +"A woman who hath forty-five years, but carries them lightly," she +replied; "a woman who hath not the attire of a woman of quality, and yet +speaketh as if she were; a woman who years ago lived at Rashcliffe +Manor." + +"And if such a woman hath been there?" I said. + +"Then must I go thither." + +"But if she hath been there, and is gone?" + +"Then lack-a-day, I know not; ay, but even then I must know what she +hath told Master Rashcliffe." + +"Come with me," I said; "I will take you to the house." + +"But is she there?" she asked eagerly. + +"Ay, she is there," I replied. + +"Then let us go quickly," and although she still stooped low, she walked +by my side at a good speed. + +A little later I led her into my father's hall, wondering at the meaning +of what was happening, but little dreaming of what lay before me. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE KING'S MARRIAGE CONTRACT + + +Bidding the woman be seated, and going straight to the room we called +the library, I knocked at the door. + +"Who is there?" asked my father. + +"It is I, Roland." + +My father opened the door, and looked at me questioningly. I saw that +the woman Katharine Harcomb was standing by the chair on which she had +sat during the time I had been in the room; but the hard defiant look in +her eyes had gone. Rather I thought I saw fear, almost amounting to +terror in them. Evidently my father had been speaking about matters +which moved her mightily. She no longer bore the expression of one who +would make her own terms, but rather as one who lived under the shadow +of a great fear. + +"You are back soon Roland," said my father, "it is not an hour since you +left us." + +"Nay," I replied, "but I met an old woman from St. Paul's Cross who was +coming hither, who declared she must see Katharine Harcomb." + +The woman gave a start as I spoke. + +"Where is she?" she cried, "let me see her without delay." + +"Tarry a little," said my father; "tell me more of this, Roland." + +So without more ado I told him of my meeting with the dame, and of what +had passed between us. + +"I would speak to her, I would speak to her alone!" cried Katharine +Harcomb, like one bereft of her senses, and she made for the doorway as +if to pass me. But my father closed the door quickly and seemed to be +deep in thought. A moment later I saw that he had made up his mind. + +"Have any of the kitchen wenches seen her?" he asked. + +"Nay," I replied. "I myself opened the door, and she is waiting in the +hall." + +"Then do you bring her here, Roland, and afterward do you leave us +again." + +I have no doubt I showed my disappointment at this, for I was eager to +understand the meaning of it all. My father took but little heed, +however, so doing his bidding I went to the hall, where the woman was +still sitting. + +It was at this time I called to mind that I had not heard her name, so +without first telling her to follow me where my father was I said +quietly, "What is your name, good dame?" + +"Name," she replied, "when Katharine Harcomb knows that Mistress Walters +is here she will not keep me waiting." + +"That is well," I replied; "will you follow me?" But although I spoke +quietly my heart beat quickly, for I felt sure that she was in some way +connected with Lucy Walters, whose son, Katharine Harcomb said, was the +next heir to the throne of England. + +No sooner had the library door opened than I saw the two women exchange +glances, but I had no opportunity of noticing more, for my father gave +me a look which told me that I must leave them alone, which I did much +to my impatience. + +I did not go far away, however. It is true I left the house, for cool as +the night had become the air seemed stifling, so I stepped on to the +grass outside, and began to walk up and down in the light of the window, +behind which I knew my father and the two women were. How long I stayed +there I know not, but it must have been more than an hour, for I noticed +that the moon which stood high in the heavens when I went out had +dropped behind the trees. In a sense the time seemed long. To a lad +barely twenty-three, to be kept away from the knowledge of a secret +which promised to vitally affect his future, was calculated to multiply +every minute into five. Nevertheless I had so much to think about, that +I thought but little of the time, and that in spite of my impatience. +The mystery of the box containing the marriage contract between the new +king and Lucy Walters, and the woman's request that I should go on a +voyage of discovery kept me wondering so much, that at times I almost +forgot that I knew very little of the whole business, and that my father +was even then talking about these things with the two women who had in +such an unaccountable way entered my life. + +The moon had sunk far behind the trees when I was startled by the loud +noises of those within the house. A minute later I heard my father's +voice. + +"Roland, my son." + +I entered the house again, and soon found myself in the room where I had +left the two women. I could see that something of importance had passed +between them. The woman Katharine Harcomb seemed much wrought upon, +while in her eyes was a look which might mean anger or terror. + +I looked from one to the other questioningly, for I was eager to know +what had been said. + +"Roland, my son," said my father, "you have long complained of idleness. +You will have no need to complain longer." + +I did not speak, although many questions came into my mind. + +"Ay," cried the old woman, "and what is done must be done quickly and in +secret, for remember the Duke of York is already at work. He knows that +my grandson will be the lawful heir to the throne, and if he can find +the marriage contract, my poor Lucy's child will be kept out of his +rights." + +"You mean the new king's brother?" I asked, for I was somewhat taken +back by the vehemence of the dame's speech. + +"Ay, who else?" she replied. "If Charles dies, will he not claim the +crown? Already it is said that he speaks of what he will do when he is +crowned." + +"As to that," I made answer, "are not his chances small? He is but three +years younger than the king, and may not live as long. Besides, Charles +may marry again." + +"He will," cried the dame, "he will, but there will be no children." + +"How do you know?" I asked. + +"I do know, and that is enough," she replied. "Charles will never have a +child which shall be heir to the throne of England save only the son of +my daughter Lucy." + +I took but little notice of this speech, although the dame uttered it +with much warmth. I imagined that in spite of the severe measures which +had been taken with witches, and those who professed to foretell the +future, she had either consulted some of these people, or was perchance +herself a "wise woman." Not that I paid much heed to these things, for +my father, although he denied not that some had it in their power to +reveal the future, had generally made light of their professions, and +had taught me to treat them with scorn. + +"Be that as it may," I said, "you have it that the new king married your +daughter." + +"Ay, I hold to that," she cried, "and poor and humble as I seem to be, I +say that I am grandmother to him who should be king of England when his +father dies." + +"That remains to be proved," I said, for I was eager to get back to the +question which had been broached by Katharine Harcomb when first we had +met earlier in the evening. + +"Ay, that remains," replied the dame, angrily I thought; "and it is by +you, Master Roland Rashcliffe, that this is to be done." + +"But why have you chosen me?" I asked, for young though I was, ay and +eager to undertake any work which meant movement, and romance, I could +not help asking why I among all others should be chosen for this work. + +"You shall know some day Roland," said my father. "It is enough for you +to know now you have a great work to do, a work which if successfully +done will make you a power in England." + +"But what is it?" I asked somewhat impatiently, for it seemed to me that +I was asked to do something the nature of which was hidden from my +eyes. + +"To bring hither the marriage contract," he replied. + +"Ay, but where is it?" + +"It is in England," replied Katharine Harcomb, and then she looked at me +with keen, searching eyes. + +At this I doubt not I made an impatient gesture, for truly they seemed +to regard me as a child who might not be trusted. + +"Nay, be not angry," said my father, almost gently I thought. And this +surprised me, for although I was a man in years he had not ceased to +expect absolute and unquestioning obedience from me. In truth he held +strongly that every man should be complete master in his house, and that +no one should dare to dream of questioning his will. + +But if I was not angry I was impatient. I had been on the tip-toe of +expectation for hours, I had been told that I had a great work to do and +yet I had only received hints as to how that work was to be done. For to +be told that the marriage contract was in England was to tell me +nothing, as any one can see. Still I held my peace and waited, wondering +what was to come next. + +"The marriage took place at a place called The Hague," said the old dame +with downcast eyes, "away across the sea in that outlandish country +called Holland. It was performed in secret by a Papist priest. The +priest had to swear that he would never reveal the marriage, +nevertheless my daughter Lucy, for the sake of her good name, so cajoled +the priest that he drew up the contract and gave it to her, unknown to +the king. For fear it should be taken from her she determined to place +it in safe keeping." + +At this the woman ceased speaking, while I, who had been waiting for +some news which would give me something like a reason for action, felt +as though she were conjuring up a story. + +"This showed," she went on presently, "that my daughter was not foolish +as some have said, neither was she careless of her good name." + +"But to whom did she give this precious document?" I asked, "and where +is it now?" + +"She gave it one in whom she trusted," said the dame sourly. "But he +betrayed her trust. He found out the value of the paper, and brought it +to England. Since then it hath changed hands again; but Katharine +Harcomb hath discovered where it is now." + +"Where?" I asked eagerly. + +"It is at the house of Master Elijah Pycroft, who lives within five +miles of Folkestone town," said Katharine Harcomb. + +"How do you know?" I asked. + +"I have been told by one who knows," she replied mysteriously. + +"And who is Master Elijah Pycroft?" I asked again, for the whole +business seemed to be as unsubstantial as a vapour cloud. + +"Ah, it is easy to tell you who he is, but difficult to say what he is," +replied the woman. "But there be many stories told about him. Some say +he hath sold himself to the devil, others that he is at the head of a +gang of highwaymen, and that although he never appears among them, it is +he who gives them information and shelters them when they are in danger. +I have also been told that he is a Papist who is a servant of the Pope, +and is plotting to bring England back to Popery again. But it is he who +hath the contract, and it is he who will make use of it, if it be not +taken from him. Some have it that the priest who married Lucy Walters to +King Charles is in league with him." + +Now this seemed to be a cock-and-bull story, and yet it had enough of +meaning to set my nerves a-tingling again. + +"What is the name of the priest?" I asked. "Is his home at The Hague? +Because he is the man to find out first of all. If he confesses to the +marriage, then----" + +"Do you dare to doubt that my Lucy was a lawful wedded wife?" cried the +old dame angrily. "She that is dead now, poor child. Why think ye that +the young King's mother, the old dowager queen, would have taken the boy +if there was no marriage?" + +"Still it would be well to find him out," I urged. "Do you know his +name?" + +"That I do," cried she. "He is a French priest, and was in Holland only +by stealth, seeing that the people who live in Holland do hate the +priests so much owing to their past sufferings. But Lucy told me his +name, she did, ay, she told me when she was in England before they put +her in the Tower. For my Lucy was a Catholic at heart, being brought to +that way of thinking while she was in those foreign parts. He told her +his name, and told her where he lived." + +"Ah," I said, "that is better. Tell me, good dame." + +"He lives at Boulogne," said the woman, "and his name is Father Pierre +Rousseau, and I have been told that his church is the Church of St. +Antony; but of that I am not sure." + +But here at last was something definite to go upon. Boulogne was only a +few hours' sail from English shores, and if Father Pierre Rousseau lived +there he could be easily found out. I imagined that it would be easy to +find out whether the woman's story were true or false, and upon this +discovery a plan of action could be formed. + +After this we fell to talking again, but beyond what I have written +down, little of import could be gathered. I saw that much heed was paid +to old wives' stories if they agreed with the desires of the women, but +as to well proved facts there seemed nothing besides these two things. +Still this was something. I could quickly find out whether Father Pierre +Rousseau were flesh and blood, while the discovery of Master Elijah +Pycroft should also be easy. + +Had I been older, and known more of the ways of the world, I should, I +doubt not, have asked many more questions, but by this time my mind was +all aflame with the prospect of something to do, while the nature of my +work was all that a youth might ask for. Neither did I trouble much as +to why I should be chosen. My father had told me that I should know some +day, and with this I was fain content. I had a work to do, and that was +enough. + +"It may be that this priest knows more than he has told you," I cried at +length; "my first business therefore will be to go to Boulogne, and +after that to seek out Master Elijah Pycroft." + +My father nodded his head approvingly, and yet I thought I saw doubt in +his eyes. + +"But what about the coming of the king?" I went on. "You told me only +to-day that we must go to Dover to meet him, and if he comes to England +soon, there will be no time for me to set out on my journey before +seeing him." + +"The king will not arrive for two weeks," replied my father. + +"Two weeks?" I said questioningly. + +"Ay, two weeks. This dame hath it, that according to messages which have +been received in London town he will not come until the twenty-seventh +or the twenty-eighth day of the month. There will therefore be time, if +fortune favours you, to do much of your work before he comes hither." + +Now being hot of blood, and not being aware of the many things which +might hinder me, I was content with this reply, and determined not to +fail being at Dover when the king should land. + +Without wasting time by retailing what was said further, I hasten on to +say that by break of day on the following morning I was on my horse's +back, clad in my best attire, on my way to Folkestone town, whither I +hoped to get a passage to the coast of France. I was in gay spirits. I +had pistols in my holsters, a sword by my side, and more money in my +pouch than I ever hoped my father would give. Servant I had none, and +that for two reasons. The first was, there was no man in my father's +house who was fitted for such a post, even although I were rich enough +to keep him; but more than this, it was deemed best that I should go +quietly and alone, so that no one should suspect what my business might +be. Servants, as all the world knows, have a way of talking about their +masters' business, and if I had one he might unwittingly endanger me in +my work. + +My father had spoken gaily and confidently to me on my departure. + +"I shall be at Dover on the twenty-sixth day of the month," he said. "I +shall make my way to the _Fox and Hounds Inn_, and thither you must come +and meet me, if your affairs allow you." + +To this I gladly assented, thinking of the things I might have to tell +him by that time. + +"And mark you, Roland," continued my father earnestly, "be wary and bold +in this matter. If you succeed, you will have such power at your +command that even the new king will not be able to deny you what you +ask. But be bold, my lad, and be wary. Speak but few words, and when you +speak impart but as little information as possible. Ask questions +without seeming to ask them, and ask them in such a way as to befool +those you ask. Never allow want of courage to keep you from obtaining +what you desire. If you have to strike, strike hard. Be careful of your +companions. Trust no man with your secrets. Remember that in ninety-nine +times out of a hundred every man hath his own ends to serve, and if you +are not eager and brave another will outdo you. Don't expect gratitude, +and never trust any party or faction. Had I acted upon the advice I am +giving you now, I should not be called 'landless Rashcliffe,' and you +would not be a poor man's son. God be with you." + +It was with these words ringing in my ears that I set my face towards +London town on a bright May morning, and although it lay fully twelve +miles from my home, I saw St. Paul's Church before seven o'clock, so +early was I in the starting. + +My heart was strangely light, I remember, for although I was much in the +dark concerning my mission, its very nature stirred my blood, and made +me fearless at coming difficulties. Nay, I rejoiced in them: who would +not, when the fate of the country depended on my success? To find the +king's marriage contract, and thus alter the succession to the crown of +England! Surely that were enough to give nerve to a letterless +ploughboy, much less the only son of the bravest gentleman in the county +of Essex. + +So early was I in London town that I had to wait fully an hour before I +could get breakfast, but this I presently obtained at an inn which stood +close by Ludgate, and within sight of Fleet Prison. + +I found that the talk of every one was concerning the coming of the new +king, and every man seemed to be on the tip-toe of expectation +concerning the revelries which were to take place when he appeared. + +"Ay," said the innkeeper to me, "I know that Old Nol made the English +feared the world all o'er, while never such an army was ever known as +he led to battle; but what of that? He wanted to turn the whole land +into Independent meeting houses. He wanted every man to turn +psalm-singer, and would have none about him but those who spoke the +Puritan cant. If ever a man loved to see a cock-fight, or a bull baited, +he was treated like a murderer, while no man dared to drink as an +Englishman should drink. But that is all over now. The king loves his +wine and his pleasure even as a king should. That's why he could not do +with the sour-faced Scots. When he comes we shall be able to drink +again, and these psalm-singing chaps will have to bark at back doors. +Old Drury will have its fun, and a man will be able to speak to a pretty +woman without being placed in the lock-up." + +"Think you that aught will be done to those who fought against the new +king's father?" I asked. + +"Ay, that is what people say. Men have it that every Puritan will be +dragged out of his house, and every man who fought against his sacred +Majesty's person will be hanged. As for these Independents, well, +already they who carried their heads so high be slinking along back ways +like whipped dogs. Ah well, it is right. Let us live a merry life, and +God save the king!" + +Presently, as I went towards the river, I found out that the man had +spoken truly: I saw men clad in sober-coloured garments talking one to +another, as though some calamity were near. And this was no wonder, for +presently, as the number of the people in the streets increased I saw +that these same men were howled at by the mob. Some pointed to the +Bibles which hung from their girdles, and called out "Pharisees, +hypocrites!" Others again cried out "Psalm-singing rogues!" while others +threatened them with the stocks and the pillory when the king came. + +"It becomes worse each day," I heard one of these sober-clad men say to +another. + +"Ay the Scriptures be fulfilled; and the devil is unloosed." + +"The people of God will fare badly, methinks." + +"Nevertheless, the new king hath promised that every man shall be +forgiven for what he hath done." + +"The new king! The son of Charles Stuart, a traitor and a liar whom our +great Oliver beheaded! As well expect mercy from a wolf." + +"Hush, man! If we be heard we shall be taken note of. Let us be wise as +serpents and harmless as doves." + +And this kind of thing I found everywhere as I rode through London +streets. On the one hand was a kind of lawless joy, which prevailed +greatly; and on the other fearful foreboding as to the coming days. + +But I stayed not long in London, for I was eager to make my way to +Folkestone. The wedding contract hidden in the black box was more to me +than the rejoicings of the Royalists, or the fears of the Separatists. + +It took me two days to reach Folkestone; indeed, I did not reach this +town till the evening of the second day. Moreover, the second day of my +journey had been rainy, and I was both wet and tired when I reached the +_Barley Sheaf Inn_, which looked homely and comfortable, for the which I +was very thankful. As the evening was rainy, I thought I should +perchance be the only traveller; but no sooner had the ostler taken my +horse from me than I saw two persons ride up, which interested me +greatly. Perhaps this was because they both seemed anxious to hide their +faces. The one was, as far as I could judge, a strongly-built man, but +of what age I could not judge; the other was a woman, clad from head to +foot in a long cloak. Moreover, she wore a hood, which almost hid her +face. Nevertheless, I caught one glimpse of it as she passed in at the +door. It was as pale as death, while her eyes were full of terror. + +"Private rooms," said the man, "and that without delay." + +After they had passed out of sight I fell to wondering who they were; +but I never dreamed then that their fate would be linked with mine in +such a wondrous way. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE HAPPENING AT THE INN + + +After I had partaken of food, I made my way to the harbour for the +purpose of finding out when a boat might be leaving for the +neighbourhood of Boulogne. By this time the rain had ceased, and +although the night was wellnigh upon the town I was able to see +something of its character. Not that it was of any great note. It +consisted of only a few narrow streets, which being wet, looked +miserable and squalid. The bold outline of the cliffs impressed me +greatly, however, and I judged that on fair days the whole district must +be pleasant to behold. + +I found as I passed through, that here as well as in London the sole +subject of conversation was the coming of the new king, and of the +changes his coming would bring about. Here also as in London, men had it +that it would go hard with those who had fought against the late king, +and especially against those who had put him to death. Nevertheless +none, as far as I could discover, spoke against him; rather they even +praised the profligacy of which all seemed to believe him guilty. + +But much to my disappointment I could hear of no vessel that would leave +for the French coast, at least for three days, and as I had not enough +money to hire one for myself I had to content myself with the prospect +of spending that time in the vicinity of Folkestone. I was not at all +dismayed at this, for I reflected that I might be able to discover +something of Master Elijah Pycroft, and might not indeed have to go to +France at all. + +When I returned to the inn I found my way into a large low room where +several persons were sitting. Some were playing cards, others were +drinking, as it seemed to me for the sake of drinking, while others +still were laughing at their own wit for want of something better to +laugh at. + +No one seemed to take note of my entrance, save one, who pointed to a +seat by his side, as if to bid me welcome. + +"What will you drink?" he asked. + +"What is the house noted for?" I asked, for although I determined not to +drink, remembering the old adage that "when the drink's in the wit's +out," I thought it best to attract no notice by failing to fall in with +the custom. + +"Sack, my master, sack," replied the man. "There is no better sack +between here and London town than can be bought at the _Barley Sheaf_, +and what is more a man can drink his fill and no questions asked. We be +no longer troubled by a sour-faced Independent constable who is ever on +the watch for a man who seeks to be merry." + +"Did they trouble you much in Cromwell's days?" + +"Trouble me! Marry, and that they did. No man pleased unless he carried +a Bible at his belt, and sung psalms through his nose. Why a man could +in no wise make merry. The man who kept a dog or a cock was watched day +and night, while those who were suspected of having a Prayer-book in his +house was almost as much in danger as those who read the Bible in Queen +Mary's days. Why even the town crier had to speak through his nose, as +though he were singing psalms in church." + +At this he laughed as though he had made a good joke. + +"But all will be changed now?" I suggested. + +"Ay, but they be changed already, young master," said another man who +was listening. "Already Old Nol's people be seeking to make friends with +those who be shouting 'God save the king!' while a man may kiss his +sweetheart, and no questions be asked. And what would you? The king, who +hath received fifty thousand pounds from Parliament to buy himself good +clothes, and good wine, hath sent word to us that we must drink his +health in the best wine and ale that our town affords." + +"Ay," said the other, "and painters be everywhere washing out the +State's arms and painting the Lion and the Unicorn instead. I do hear, +too, that the king hath given orders that all the vessels built by Old +Nol are to be renamed, as his Majesty doth much dislike the present +names." + +"Have you heard aught concerning what will be done to those who took +part in the king's father's death?" I asked. + +"I would not stand in their shoes for something," he replied +significantly. + +"In spite of the Act of Oblivion," I suggested. + +"Act of Oblivion! Think you that the new king will forget the name of +those who killed his father? Why I do hear that Sir Charles Denman is +even now being followed by those who were faithful to Charles I." + +"Sir Charles Denman, who is he?" I asked, for I had never heard his name +before. + +"Never heard of Sir Charles Denman! Why where have you lived, young +master? He was one who cried loudest for the death of Charles I, and who +hath ever since Richard Cromwell died done his utmost to persuade +General Monk against having aught to do with the new king. He hath +spoken words which are said to be treasonable, and what is more is as +fanatical a preacher as Hugh Peters himself." + +"Ay, but there are no edicts out against him?" I queried. + +"But there are, young master; at least so men say. Some have it that the +king, no sooner was he invited to come back to his throne, than he sent +secret instructions that Sir Charles should be arrested and imprisoned +until his Majesty's pleasure be known." + +"Know you aught of Sir Charles?" I asked. + +"Nay, I know naught, but men have it that he is a dangerous man, and not +to be trusted. I have been told that his very preaching is only a cloak +to cover up his misdoings. Men say he hath never married, and yet he is +accompanied on his journeys by one who ought to be his wife. It is said, +too, that he whips her as a man might whip a spaniel. A sullen, cruel +man whom no one loves." + +At this I was silent, whereupon the man went on. + +"Some have it that he is married to this woman, who is of low degree, +while other gossips say that he hath stolen her from her father's house, +because she will inherit a great fortune when her father dies." + +"Have you ever seen him?" + +"Nay, but I am told he is the best swordsman in the kingdom, that he is +deadly with the pistol, and that he shews no mercy anywhere?" + +"And are all the people loyal around here?" I asked. + +"Ay, what would you?" + +"And all the old families will receive the new king with open arms?" + +"Ay, all as far as I know." + +"I do not know the names of these families--at least not of all," I +said, feeling my way towards the information I desired, "but you as an +important man doubtless know them all." + +"Ay," he replied, sitting back in his chair with a look of importance on +his face. "There be the Jeffries and old Sir Michael Oldbury, and +Admiral Billton, and Squire Barton, and my Lord Bridgman, and others. +Most of them nod to me when they come to town." + +"I think I have heard of a Master Pycroft," I said, "know you him?" + +He shook his head. "No," he replied, "there be no man of note within ten +miles of Folkestone who bears that name." + +At this my heart seemed to sink in my shoes, for it seemed as though I +had come on a fool's errand. Still I kept a brave face, and answered as +though the matter were of no import. + +"I must have mistaken the name," I said, "or perchance he lived in some +other part of the country." + +"Stay," said the man, "there is an old place called 'Pycroft,' but it +hath been in ruins for years. It is an old house among the Pycroft +woods, and is said to be haunted. No man lives there, but I have heard +that an old miser had it long years ago. He was killed for his money, +and ever since the place hath been infested by evil spirits. Years ago, +about the time the king was beheaded, I mind me that I passed by it, but +not a soul was to be seen. The windows were broken, and the gardens were +all covered with weeds. Neither sight nor sound of living being could I +see or hear. Even the birds seemed afraid to sing." + +"What was the name of the miser?" I asked. + +"People called him 'Solomon the Fool,'" replied the man; "'Solomon,' +because he was said to have much learning, and 'The Fool' because he did +not know how to use it. Ah, and now I come to think of it, I have heard +that it was once held by the Denmans, but whether they were any kin to +Sir Charles, of whom we have been speaking, I know not." + +After this I learnt but little more, for a man came in who said he had +ridden from Dover, and began to tell of the grand preparations which +were being made to welcome King Charles II when he landed on English +shores. So feeling somewhat weary, and desiring to think of what I had +heard, I made my way to the chamber the innkeeper had allotted to me, +and then by the light of the candle which had been given to me, I sought +to set down in order what had happened to me since I left London town. I +had come to my chamber very quietly, but even if I had made a noise the +shouts of the revellers in the room below had drowned any sounds I might +have made. When I had been alone an hour or more, however, they began to +grow more quiet, which led me to think they were leaving the inn for +their homes. I therefore decided that I would undress and go to bed, but +on second thoughts I simply pulled off my riding boots and doublet and +threw myself on the bed. I did not feel at all sleepy, but ere long I +felt myself becoming drowsy; but even then I did not think I should fall +asleep. In this I was mistaken, however, for after that I remembered +nothing until I suddenly awoke. + +At first I scarce remembered where I was, but the sound of someone +sobbing brought everything to my recollection with great clearness. + +"No, no! Not that!" + +I heard the words with great distinctness, and they were spoken by a +woman. Moreover, the one who spoke them was in great terror, for +although she spoke not loudly, I detected the anguish in her voice. + +As may be imagined, the woman's cries caused me to listen intently. + +"I tell you, yes." It was a man's voice I heard, and the partition +between the room in which I lay and the next, from whence the sounds +came, was so thin that I could hear much of what was said. "This must be +done. It is my will." + +He spoke in a low voice, but it vibrated with passion. + +"But it is more than five miles away, and it is midnight." + +This the woman said in a low, fearsome voice. + +"What of that? The distance is not too great for you to walk easily. You +have rested, and you have had food. As to its being night, so much the +better. Every one is now abed, and no one will see you." + +"But the way is lonely; besides, the place hath an evil name. You have +told me yourself that it is haunted." + +"So much the better for my purposes. You must go thither, and find out +what I have told you of. You can be back here before folks be astir." + +"It is cruel, cruel," said the woman with a sob. + +"It is your duty; you owe it to me," replied the man. "Besides, you dare +not refuse. If I speak but a word you know what will happen, so do my +bidding, and that without delay." + +"But who shall I find there? It is said to be an empty house; besides, +perchance I cannot find it. It is in the midst of woods; and even if I +met some one on the road, I dare not ask them where Pycroft is." + +At this, as may be imagined, my heart gave a great bound. These people +were speaking of the very place I desired to enter; moreover, there was +evidently some secret surrounding it. Did this man know aught of what +had been told me? Did he seek to find the king's marriage contract as +well as I? Besides, who was he, and what was his relation to this woman? +These and many other questions I asked myself as I lay silently on my +bed, for in my eagerness I did not realize that I was playing the +eavesdropper. In truth, everything had come upon me so suddenly that I +scarce understood what was taking place. + +"There will be no difficulty in finding the way," said the man. "You +will climb the hill out of the town, then you will take the road that +leads to London. This road you wot of as well as I. When you come to the +pond by the roadside you will see the gate on the right side of the +road, and from there you can easily follow the path leading to the +house." + +"But why can you not go yourself?" said the woman. + +"Because it is not my will," replied the man. "Besides, it would not be +safe for me to go until I know the old man's thoughts: he might betray +me, and then what would happen to you?" + +"To me?" repeated the woman. + +"Ay, to you. Whither can you go if I cease to protect you? Ay, and what +will befall you?" + +"But I have done nothing." + +"Nothing! Then go and show yourself to him. Ay, let it be known in the +inn who you are. If I had not given you my name, where would you be +now?" + +I have recorded this conversation as well as I am able; nevertheless I +cannot vouch for its entire correctness, seeing that many of the words +were almost inaudible. + +After this I heard sounds as though some one were preparing to go out; a +little later there were footsteps along the passage, and then silence. +My nerves were all tingling, while my brain was in a whirl. What did all +this mean, and what had I to do? + +In a minute my mind was made up. I would wait until all was silent, and +time given for the man to return to his chamber, and then I would creep +out of the house, and follow the road the man had so clearly marked out. +If their interest was at Pycroft, so was mine; besides, my heart went +out in sympathy towards the woman whose voice was so plaintive, and +whose condition seemed so piteous. + +Presently I heard stealthy footsteps outside my door. They passed along +the corridor, and presently were lost in the distance. Now was the time +for me to act. All my weariness had gone; I was eager and alert; the +mystery upon which I had happened threw its spell upon me, and I longed +to discover its meaning. Besides, it fell in with my plans; and I +remembered my father's words warning me never to allow want of courage +to stand in the way of fulfilling my purpose. + +I fastened my sword carefully by my side, and having seen to my pistols, +I took my riding boots in my hand, and crept carefully along the +passage towards a doorway I had noted during the evening. No one seemed +astir, and the house was as silent as death. When I came to the door, I +found that it was unbolted. Evidently the man had left it so that the +woman might enter when she had performed his mission. + +Closing the door silently behind me, I pulled on my boots, and a minute +later was creeping silently up the hill out of the town. Once away from +the houses, I realized the cruelty of the man in sending out a woman on +such an errand. It is true the night was neither dark nor cold, but for +a woman to take such a long weary journey alone at such a time was hard +indeed. The country, since Oliver Cromwell's death, had become infested +with footpads, while the thought of going to a haunted house was +terrible enough for a man, much less a woman. Besides, she was troubled +by some fear. The man had some power over her beyond the ordinary, or +she would never submit to his will. What was it? I called to mind the +story told me concerning Sir Charles Denman that very night. Was this +man Sir Charles? And was this woman the one who had been associated with +him? This might be the case; and yet I could not believe it, why I could +not tell. Perhaps it was because I had learnt to be wary of stories told +at taverns and inns, perhaps because I desired another solution to the +mystery. + +When I was well out in the country I stopped and listened. I also looked +eagerly along the road, but I could neither hear nor see the woman I had +come out to follow. Thereupon I started running, for the road was better +than ordinary, and the light of the moon revealed all pits and dangerous +places. Presently I reached the top of the hill, where the road crossed +an open space. Neither hedge nor ditch hid aught from me, although a +mile on, skirting the open plain was a belt of trees. Here I stopped +again, and gazed eagerly along the roadway. Yes, there could be no doubt +about it, away in the distance was a dark object. + +Up to this time I had formed no plan of action save to follow the woman. +Now it came to me that if I desired to speak to her I should not know +what to say, while if I watched her without letting her know of my +presence I should be acting the part of a spy. She was alone and +unprotected, she did not know that I heard something of what had passed +between her and the man at the inn. Therefore my presence would give her +a fright, while I had no excuse for intruding upon her as she took this +lonely and mysterious night journey. + +What an older man might have done I may not say. What I should do now +that I have passed the age of impetuous youth I dare not hazard. But +then I was young, I knew naught of the world, and the mission upon which +I myself had come caused me to surround everything with the halo of +youthful vision. I determined that I would overtake her, tell her that I +had heard what had passed between her and the man at the _Barley Sheaf_, +and then offer to accompany her on her journey. Doubtless an older man +would have acted differently, but I suspect that my decision was that +which any youth of my age will understand. + +I therefore commenced running again, and I saw that every step lessened +the distance between me and the dark form which toiled silently along +the lonely road. Not a house was in sight, neither could I see aught but +the line of road curling its way along the heather covered land, and the +belt of trees which lay beyond. I ran silently, because I kept on the +edge of the road, where grass grew, and as I drew nearer I saw that the +woman kept straight on, looking neither to the right nor to the left. + +Presently the moon, which had been under a cloud, shot into the clear +sky, so that I could see her plainly. She was clad from head to foot in +a long garment, while on her head she wore a hood, as if even in the +loneliness of midnight she desired to hide her face. I could see, too, +that she was tall and that she moved with rapidity and ease; but that +was all, for her back was toward me, and although the light of the moon +was bright I could not even tell the colour of the garment she wore. + +As I came up close to her, my heart fell to beating wildly, not because +of my exertion in overtaking her, but because of the strangeness of my +adventure. In truth it seemed as though I were in a dream from which I +should presently awake, only to find what had taken place was but the +wild fancy which comes to one when one loses control over one's own +imaginings. + +Whether I should have dared to speak to her I know not, but when I was +only a few yards from her I happened to kick a stone which lay in my +way, and as it rattled along the road she turned around sharply, and +with a cry of fear. + +"What do you wish?" she asked, and I noted that her voice trembled not +one whit. + +But I did not reply; I was so much wrought upon that no words would come +to me. + +"I have naught to give you," she said, "so pass on and allow me to go my +way." + +As she spoke her hood dropped from her face and I saw her every feature +plainly. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A MIDNIGHT MEETING + + +My first glance at the woman's face showed me that it was the same as I +had seen a few hours before. In the moonlight she looked very pale, and +I saw that she was young, not indeed as I judged more than twenty years +of age. But what struck me most was the fact that she betrayed no fear; +rather I saw a look of defiance, and I could not understand how a woman +who had, as I thought, been cowed by the man at the inn could meet me +here alone at midnight and be so brave. Nay, as I thought, there was a +look of defiance in her face, and a confidence in her own strength. + +"I desire naught from you, and I have no will to molest you," I said. + +"Then go your way." + +"Ay, I will go my way," I replied, "and perchance my way may be yours." + +"It cannot be. If you have no will to molest me, take your road and I +will take mine." + +Her quiet confidence almost angered me. Fearfulness I was prepared to +meet, while cries I expected; but to be quietly commanded to pass on, +knowing what I knew, made me somewhat impatient, and hence more at my +ease. + +"It may be, mistress, when I have told you what is in my mind, you will +not be so desirous to be rid of me." + +"There can be naught in your mind that concerns me." Then with a flash +as quick as light she said, "Do you boast of gentle blood, young sir?" + +"I am of gentle birth," I replied. + +"Then you must know that when a lady would be alone no man of honour +will stay by her side." + +"That's as may be," I replied. "The lady may be surrounded by dangers +of which she knows nothing, in which case the man of honour will stay +and protect her even against her will!" + +For a moment she gazed around her as if she apprehended danger, but only +for a moment. + +"Will it please you to pass on?" she said. + +"Not until I have told you what is in my mind." + +"Then you are a spy." + +"As you will," I replied, for the words angered me, and even although I +had no sufficient excuse for remaining by her side, I determined to know +more of her. + +"Perhaps my first impression was right," she went on, "and you are a +common thief. If so, it is useless coming to me, I have no money." + +At this I was silent, for my brain refused to give me a suitable answer. + +"So having no money, and having no desire to remain longer in your +company, I will e'en go on my way." + +"No you will not." + +At this her eyes flashed like fire. + +"Why?" she asked. + +"Because you are afraid to let me know where you are going." + +At this she gazed fearfully at me, but she spoke no word. + +"Nevertheless, I know the place for which you are bound," I said. "But +if I were you I would not go." + +"Why?" + +"Because the man who sent you seeks only his own safety and not yours. +Because he desires to use you only as a key to unlock the door by which +he would enter, because he has gained power over you only to make you +his tool." + +"What do you know of the man who sent me?" + +This she said, as I thought, involuntarily, for she quickly went on: +"How do you know I have been sent? In these days even a woman may----" +and then she stopped suddenly, like one afraid. + +"Because I have been staying at the _Barley Sheaf_," I replied. "Because +I saw you come to the inn; because I heard your conversation to-night +with the man who hath sent you to do his bidding, against your own +will." + +"Then you _are_ a spy?" + +"If you will, but let me tell you what is in my mind before you call me +by that name again. I was awakened an hour or two ago by the sound of a +woman sobbing. She was pleading with some man not to send her out at +midnight, but he persisted. I heard him threaten her, I heard him tell +her that if her name were known some dread calamity would happen to her. +I knew that he had some power over her, possessed some secret concerning +her, and that she had perforce to do his will." + +"Well, what then, sir?" she asked sharply. + +"He commanded her to go to Pycroft, along a road that is infested by +footpads." + +"And what have you to do with this?" + +"Nothing except that I determined to follow her, and offer her what +protection and help I could give her. Ay, and more, to rid her from the +man who is so unworthy to call himself her protector." + +At this she came up close to me, and looked steadily into my face. + +"Is that all you know?" she said. + +"That is all." + +"And that is your reason for following me?" + +"That is my reason." + +"What is your name?" + +I could see no harm in telling her. My name was unknown, and my mission +hither was, I believed, a secret. + +"Roland Rashcliffe," I said. + +"Of Epping?" + +"Of that family, yes." + +"And this is true?" + +"On my word as a gentleman, yes." + +Again she looked at me steadily as if she were in sore straits what to +do, and did not know whether she might trust me. + +"You know nothing about me beyond what you have said?" + +"Nothing." + +"And you desire only to see me safe from harm?" + +"That is all," and at the time it was true, for under the influence of +the woman's presence my own mission to Pycroft seemed of little import. + +"And if I allow you to accompany me you will ask me no questions?" + +"I desire you to answer no questions of mine, nor to reveal to me +anything which you would keep secret." + +"You do not know my name--nor his name?" + +"No." + +Again she scanned me eagerly, and then looked around her. All round us +was a weary waste of uncultivated land, beyond the dark woods a cloud +shot over the moon, while away in the distance the horizon was blackened +by what looked like a coming storm. The winter had gone, and the spring +was upon us, nevertheless the night had grown cold. I saw her shudder. + +"What are you?" she said. "Roundhead, or Cavalier?" + +"I do not know." + +At this she looked at me suspiciously. + +"My father fought for the king in the first Civil War," I replied. "But +I have stayed at home all my life. I have not interested myself in +politics. I have helped to look after what remains of my father's +estates." + +"You have spent your life in idleness?" + +"I have sought to learn those things which may become a gentleman," I +replied. "I can use a sword, and I am not altogether an ignoramus." + +"You love books then?" + +"I have read the writings of both William Shakespeare and John Milton," +I replied, "and I know a little of such writings of Corneille and +Molière as have been brought to this country." + +"You know French then?" + +"A little. But that hath nothing to do with my desire to befriend you. +You are in trouble, and I would help you." + +"You desire not to harm me?" + +"So help me God, no." + +"But why are you here?" she asked suspiciously. "If your home is at +Epping Forest, what are you doing at Folkestone?" + +"I came at my father's bidding," I replied after a moment's hesitation. + +"Ah, you have a secret, too," she cried. + +At this I was silent, while I wondered at the quickness with which she +fastened upon the truth. Nevertheless, I was sure her voice was +friendly, and I thought she was glad to have me near. And this was no +wonder, for courageous although she might be, her mission was one which +must strike terror in the bravest heart. + +But still she hesitated. What was passing in her mind I knew not; but I +imagined that two fears fought one against the other in her heart. One, +the fear of going alone to the haunted house situated amid the great +Pycroft woods, and the other the fear of accepting the protection of one +of whom she knew nothing, and whom she had never seen until that hour. + +The winds blew colder, while away in the distance I heard the rumble of +thunder, and this I think decided her. Had it been day I do not believe +she would have listened to me for a moment, but it was night and a +thunderstorm was sweeping towards us; besides, although a courageous +one, she was still a woman. + +"Promise me again that you will not seek to interfere with my mission, +or to harm me," she said. + +"I promise," I replied. + +"I will accept your escort," she said. "Come quickly, for what is done +must be done quickly." + +We walked together across the broad open land, while the black cloud +grew larger and larger. The moon had also sunk low, and the night had +grown dark. Even now a strange feeling comes into my heart as I think of +our journey towards the old house, for reared in the country as I had +been, ay, and in the very midst of the great forest which lies east of +London town, I thought I never knew any place so lonely as this. +Besides, I knew naught of my companion. That she was young, and fair to +look upon, I could not help seeing, but I knew not her name, neither did +I understand the mystery which surrounded her life. + +Twice I saw her turn and gaze furtively at me, as though desiring to +know what was in my mind, but for the most part she walked straight on, +never turning to the right nor to the left. + +Nearer and nearer we came to the pine woods which stood on the edge of +the open land, and as we did so drops of rain began to fall upon us. +Then I thought I saw her shudder, but she spoke no word. In spite of the +way she had spoken to me, I fell to pitying her more than ever. For +truly it was a sad predicament for a young maid, evidently well-born and +tenderly reared, to be placed in. From what she had said to the man at +the inn, she knew nothing either of Pycroft or its inmates, neither +could she tell what her welcome to the lonely house would be like. + +Once she stopped and listened as though she heard strange sounds near, +and then presently moved on again without a word. By and bye we came to +a pond beside the road, close by which was a gateway. Beyond were, as +far as I could judge, dense dark woods. + +"This is the place," I said. + +"How do you know?" + +"It accords with the description the man gave you at the inn." + +"Yes, but you know nothing of those who live at the house?" + +"Nothing." + +"You may accompany me until we come in sight of the house, but after +that you must go no further." + +"Why?" + +"You promised to ask no questions." + +"I promised not to interfere with your mission," I replied, "neither +will I. I have kept by your side for more than two miles without +speaking a word concerning it. Nevertheless I have not promised to obey +you in all things. Had I, I should not be by your side now. I cannot +promise not to go too close to the house. It may be that you will need +help, and I mean to keep close by your side." + +"But why?" and I thought my words gave her comfort. + +"Because I desire to be your friend." + +In this I spoke the truth, for although I had it in my heart to enter +the house in order to carry out my plans, yet my pity for the maid, and +my determination to befriend her became stronger each minute. + +"My friend!" she said. "You do not know what you say. Do you know what +it would cost to be my friend? Besides, why should you? You do not know +who I am; you have never heard my name." + +"No," I replied, "I have never heard your name, I do not know who you +are." + +"Then why should you desire to befriend me?" + +I could not answer her, neither for that matter could I answer myself +when the question came to me. But I think I know now. Although my father +had taught me to distrust all men, he had always led me to think of my +mother as a beautiful noble woman, one who was as pure as an angel, and +as truthful as the sun which shines in the heavens. Thus it came about +that I was led to look at womanhood through the medium of my mother's +life, and to regard it as a gentleman's duty ever to treat them with +respect and reverence. Nay, more, I had learnt, I know not how, to +regard it the first duty of a man of honour ever to seek to befriend a +gentlewoman, and that at all hazards. + +"Because you are a gentlewoman, and you are in trouble," I said. + +We had been standing beside the pond during this conversation, as though +we desired to delay entering the dark woods close by. Once beneath the +shadows of the trees we should scarce be able to see each other, but +here no shadow fell, and I could see her plainly. I heard her sob, too, +as though my words had touched her heart. + +"Do not be afraid," I said, "I will let no man harm you." + +I spoke as a brother might speak to a sister, and there was naught but +pity in my heart. Perhaps my voice had a tremor in it, for I was much +wrought upon. Be that as it may, for the first time she lost control +over herself, and she gave way to tears. + +"I am afraid, oh, I am afraid," she said. + +"You need not be," I said, "no harm shall befall you." + +"Oh, but you do not know. You do not know who is by your side, you do +not know what I fear." + +"You need not fear to tell me," I said. + +"Fear to tell you!" she cried, "but I do. Ay and if it were known that +you walk by my side, and that you seek to befriend me, your life would +be in danger. You do not know why I have consented to come here, you do +not know of what I am accused. Nay, if I told you my name, you would +either drag me back to Folkestone town and tell--" Here she ceased +speaking, as though she were frightened at her own words. + +"No I should not," I made answer. + +"Why?" + +"Because I do not believe you are capable of committing a crime." + +At this she laughed aloud. A hard, cruel, bitter laugh. + +"You had better go back to your bed, Master Rashcliffe," she said. "You +do not know why I am here, you do not know what my mission is. I will +tell you. I am here because I fear the devil, and because I seek to do +his bidding." + +She said this as if through her set teeth, and, as it seemed to me, with +terrible passion. In spite of myself I felt a shiver pass through my +veins. Nevertheless I still pitied her. For be it remembered I was only +twenty-three, and the sight of the maid was in truth piteous. All the +same the words I spoke next were dragged from me almost against my will. + +"What!" I cried. "Have you sold yourself to the devil?" + +"Ay, Master Rashcliffe, that is it, and I have found him a hard master." + +I saw her clench her hands as if in a frenzy, while her eyes gleamed +with a great passion. + +"I do not believe in such things," I said, for although many witches had +been burnt in England, even in my time, I had no faith in much of what I +had heard. + +"Why do I go up to the old house in Pycroft woods?" she went on. "Is it +for pleasure? Have you not heard it is haunted? I tell you deeds are +done there which would frighten you, brave as you think you are. And I +go because I must. Now had you not better go back and leave me?" + +"No," I made answer. "I will accompany you even as I have said." + +"But you promised not to hinder me." + +"No, I will not hinder you, because, in spite of what you say, I do not +believe evil is in your heart." + +"There you make a mistake, Master Rashcliffe. I have evil in my heart. +And it is not without reason. Have you a sister?" + +"No, why do you ask?" + +"Because if you had you might understand me. If you had a sister, bound +to obey a bad man, as his wife, would she not be justified in having +evil in her heart?" + +"His wife?" I cried. + +"Ay, his wife!" and at this she laughed bitterly. "Now you see how +useless it is for you to try and help me, for a wife must obey her +husband no matter what he commands her. Do you think I would be here +else? Look!" and she showed me her left hand, where I saw a plain gold +ring. + +At this I said nothing, nevertheless I did not in any wise think of +giving up my determination to accompany her. + +"You are still determined to enter this old house?" I said quietly. + +"I go because I must," she replied. + +Without another word I opened the gate and motioned her to pass in. + +"You still persist in going?" she said, as if in astonishment, but she +passed through the open gate, while I walked quietly by her side. + +It was not easy to keep to the track, but I managed to follow it while +the woman, who I was sure felt glad that I had persisted in accompanying +her, kept near me. How long we walked I do not know. The woods grew +darker and thicker, while the very air we breathed seemed laden with +mystery and dread. + +Once or twice I stopped, for I thought I heard footsteps, but as I +listened all was silent. + +"Oh, I am afraid," she said again and again. I did not reply to her, for +I had no word of cheer to offer. In truth I was not far from being +afraid myself. An open enemy I could meet as well as another, but the +dreadful silence, with the occasional suggestion of stealthy footsteps, +made my heart grow cold in spite of myself. + +At length the track ended in an open space, and then my heart gave a +leap, for a little distance away I saw the dark outline of an old house. +Never until then did I realise how dark and lonesome a human habitation +could be. Not a sound could I hear save the beating of our own hearts, +naught could I see but the grim walls of the time-worn building. + +"Look," she whispered fearfully. "Yonder is a light." + +She spoke truly, for almost hidden by a large evergreen tree, yet +plainly to be seen was a tiny light. + +"That will be Master Pycroft!" I said almost involuntarily. + +For answer she only shuddered, and then without saying a word she walked +in the direction of the light. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE OLD HOUSE AT PYCROFT + + +Strange as it may seem, I had during the time I had been with this woman +wellnigh forgotten my own desire to enter this old house in the midst of +the Pycroft woods. My own mission had somehow become dim and unreal. My +interest in the strange journey of my companion had been so strong that +nothing else seemed of much importance. Nay more, although my plan of +accompanying her to this place, in order that I might gain knowledge of +the thing I desired to possess, first helped me in my determination, I +had never considered the reasons which should induce her to come hither. +That she went there at the command of the man at the inn was plain +enough, but why he wished her to go I had not even tried to surmise. The +reason for this was, I suppose, owing to the fact that I was carried +away by the excitement of the hour. + +Now that we were within sight of the house, however, everything came to +me like a flash of light. I realized that I was not only the companion +of the woman, who at the bidding of her husband travelled to this lonely +house at midnight, but that I had travelled thither that I might also +discover the secret that lay therein. Then another thought struck me. +Might not my own quest be associated with hers? Why did the man send her +hither? It was for no light matter. Coward although I believed him to +be, a midnight journey such as this must have sufficient reasons. +Moreover, how could I help this woman--for this I had determined to +do--unless I knew the reasons of her obedience? + +My mind, I remember, was strangely clear at the moment. Excited as I +was, all the issues came to me plainly, and I felt I must form some +plan of action without delay. During the whole journey I had asked her +no questions concerning the inmates of Pycroft Hall. According to the +man in the inn the place was inhabited only by the spirits of the dead. +Solomon the Fool, as he had been called, was dead, and the place had +fallen into ruins. Nevertheless some one lived there. The man at the inn +had said something about an "old man," from whom the woman was to obtain +what he desired. What did this mean? Who was this old man? And what +connection had he with the person to whom Katharine Harcomb had +referred? + +All these things whetted my curiosity, and made me determine to +penetrate the secret of the light at the little mullioned window, and to +learn what lay within the grim dark walls. I therefore hurried to the +woman's side. + +"Do you realize what you are doing?" + +"Ay, I realize." + +"But you must not go in there alone." + +"Yes, I must go alone." + +"No, I shall accompany you." + +"You must not. You dare not." + +"I must, and I dare," I replied. "I have promised to protect you, and I +shall keep my word." + +"Ay, and you promised not to interfere with me," she said. "I have your +word as a gentleman. Besides if you went in there your life would not be +worth a groat. You would never leave it alive." + +"Why? Is it the home of a band of robbers?" + +"It is the home of darkness. Besides, I must go alone--alone I tell you. +Things are done behind those walls from which you could not protect me, +from which no one can protect me save him who--who will not." + +"Then why go?" + +"Because I must. Because--but what is that to you? You have accompanied +me hither against my will. You have given me your word of honour not to +hinder me in the work I have to do--to try and learn nothing from me +which I do not wish to tell you." + +"I am determined to protect you," I said. "If there is danger there for +me, there is danger for you. Nay more. I am a man and can protect +myself, while you are a woman, weak and helpless." + +"Weak and helpless!" She turned to me with flashing eyes as I had seen +her first. "I am neither weak nor helpless," she said angrily. "I do not +carry a sword, but I have weapons of which you know nothing, Master +Rashcliffe. Moreover if you dare to hinder me I will use them, and +perhaps against you." + +Was this an empty threat, or was there some meaning behind it? Certainly +she looked as though she might carry her words into effect, and I +realized that although she had been moved to tears during the journey, +she was no weak, helpless creature, but a strong woman, capable and +self-reliant. It came to me then, moreover, as I have discovered since, +that it must have been something beyond the ordinary to cause her to +obey the man at the inn in this matter, even although he exercised a +husband's control over her. Still I was not to be daunted by a woman's +anger, and I answered calmly but firmly-- + +"I will keep to my words," I said; "I will ask you no questions which +you do not desire to answer; but because I am determined to protect you +I will discover the secret of this house." + +At this she looked steadily in my face again, and by this time there was +sufficient light for her to see my features plainly. + +"Then let me tell you this," she said quietly. "If you seek to enter +with me you will place me in danger. You will,--but never mind. If you +desire to befriend me, I beseech you not to enter with me. Even now, +even by being with you here, I may be writing my own death warrant. Oh, +you do not know, you do not know! If you desire to go there," and here +she pointed towards the light that still twinkled from the window, "well +go, although I would beseech you never to seek to penetrate those walls. +But do not come with me now. If you do I am undone." + +She spoke in a low tone, scarcely above a whisper, but there was such +intensity in her voice, almost amounting to agony, that my heart failed +me. Moreover I considered that if I went with her I should not be able +to discover the thing I desired. I reflected that above everything my +work must be done in secret, and to go with her would be out of accord +with the plans I had been formulating. + +"Has the person who caused the light to shine there power over you?" I +asked. + +"I will answer you nothing. Find out what you will and how you will, but +do not seek to go with me." + +I do not think she fully realized what she was saying, so eager was she +to be alone. I could see that she desired at all costs to be rid of me, +and at that moment I thought of a plan whereby I could seemingly yield +to her desires and still have my own way. + +"But what would you have me do?" I asked. + +"You desire to help me?" + +"Yes. I have said so. Nay, I am determined to protect you." + +She hesitated a second. + +"Then stay here until I return. I shall not be long, at least I do not +think so." + +"But if you are in danger there?" + +"If I am, and I need your help, I will cry out loud enough for you to +hear me." + +"Then I may enter?" + +"Then you may enter--yes, if you can." + +There was mockery in her tones, but it was the mockery of despair. + +"Very well," I replied quietly, "I will obey." + +She looked at me eagerly. + +"And you will not interfere with me?" + +"No." + +"And you will remain here hidden from sight?" + +"I will stay outside, hidden from sight, but I shall be near to help in +case of need." + +She heaved a sigh as I spoke, a sigh with a tremble in it, and I knew +she feared to do the work that lay before her, whatever it might be. But +she did not hesitate. Walking in the direction of the house, which was +about a musket shot away, I saw her walk steadily across the open space +that lay between me and the house, and a little later was lost behind +the dark shrubs that grew close to what I thought looked like the +entrance to the building. + +I waited in silence, straining every nerve to catch the least approach +of sound, and presently heard the sound of voices. After that all became +silent. The light still shone from the window, which as I have said was +partly hidden by an evergreen tree that grew near. The fever of +discovery was now hot upon me. I remembered the woman's words, "Find out +what you can, and how you will, but do not seek to go with me," and I +determined to act upon them. Evidently she believed that I could +discover nothing from the outside, but I believed otherwise. It was this +belief which caused me to yield to her wishes and remain outside. No +sooner, therefore, did the sound of voices cease than I went stealthily +across what had at one time been a lawn towards the evergreen tree I had +seen growing near the window. I saw in a moment that it suited my +purpose, and a few seconds later I was perched on a branch on a level +with the window from which the light had been shining, but which was now +dark even as the others were. This, as may be imagined, ruined my plans. +My desire had been to look through the window, and so watch what took +place in the room, and now everything had come to naught. Still I +waited. I reflected that the light meant some living person in the room. +It suggested that whoever lived in the old house used this part of it as +a dwelling place. Even if the light was gone now it might be brought +back presently, and I had plenty of time to wait. Meanwhile I placed +myself in a position to watch the window, while the trunk of the tree +was such an excellent protection that any one could pass under it, and +look up at it, without ever dreaming that I was there. As far as I could +judge the tree was about twenty yards from the house, thus while it was +not near enough for me to hear much, it enabled me to see clearly. + +I had not been there more than a minute when a light shot from the +window again, and I was enabled to see the interior of the room. But +this was of no great use to me, even although I saw on a table many +things which were strange to me, and which even now I cannot describe. +What was of interest to me was an old man carrying a candle. I could not +see his face as plainly as I desired, for the panes of glass were small, +while in the centre of each one was a large lump which wellnigh blurred +any object which lay behind. Presently, however, I saw that one of the +panes had been broken, and by means of this I was able to see clearly. +But my range of vision was narrowed. As I have said the panes of glass +were small, and so I could not see the whole of the room; still, by +means of supporting myself by holding the trunk of the tree and +stretching as far as I could in each direction, I was able to obtain a +view of a large part of the room. + +After some trouble, therefore, I could see the old man's face more +plainly. I saw that he was very old and looked dirty and unkempt beyond +relief, his hair being in tangled wisps over his shoulders, while his +beard seemed to wellnigh reach his waist. But old as he was there were +no signs of decrepitude. His movements were quick and decided. His hands +were steady, while there was an eager look on his face. His eyes were +wellnigh hidden by his huge overhanging forehead and his bushy eyebrows, +but as far as I could judge his sight was not dim. + +No sooner had he entered than he was followed by another form. This I +saw in spite of the badly made glass, but who it was I was not sure. It +might have been a man, or a woman--I could not tell. + +"The night is cold, come near the fire." + +I heard these words plainly, but that was practically all I did hear +during the time I was there. As I have said, the tree on which I was +perched was twenty yards from the window, and except on this one +occasion nearly everything was said in a low voice. + +But his words enabled me to see who the other occupant of the room was, +for at his behest the woman whom I had accompanied almost all the way +from Folkestone town came to a part in the room where I could see her +plainly. She had thrown off her headgear, and the heavy cloak which she +had worn, and when I saw her there I wondered more than ever what +business she could have with this old man. I have said that I thought +she was young when I saw her at first, but in the light of the candle +which fell straight upon her face she did not look more than nineteen +years old. Her hair had been disarranged by her journey, but I saw that +it lay in curling richness over her head. In colour it was glossy +brown, which was very near chestnut around the temples. Her features +seemed to me the most noble I had ever gazed upon. It reminded me more +of what I had read of the old Greek goddesses than of an Englishwoman. +Every feature was clearly cut, and but for the look which seemed to me +like despair which gleamed from her eyes, and rested on her face, I +thought she would be beautiful beyond any one I had ever seen. + +Presently they both drew near the fireplace, and both stood within the +range of my vision at the same time. Then the strangeness of the +situation came to me more vividly than ever. The old man with his long +tangled locks of white hair, his head sunk in between his shoulders, his +long beard wellnigh reaching the middle of his body, and with eager +angry looks flashing from his deep sunk eyes, and the woman young and +beautiful, her face clearly outlined, but pale as death, her hair like a +flashing nimbus around her head, and her eyes fixed on the strange +specimen of humanity before her. + +As I have said, I could catch little or nothing of the purport of the +conversation; but I saw that both looked eager and determined. Presently +after the woman had been speaking the man shrugged his shoulders, and +laughed mockingly. He spread out his large bony hands deprecatingly and +I could see from the expression on his face that he was telling her that +it was impossible to grant the request. + +Then she changed her attitude. She appeared to be angry and to threaten +him. I saw her lift her right hand and point at him with her forefinger. +She seemed also to be urging something that made him afraid, for I saw +him look around the room like a man in fear. But this was only for a +moment. By the time she had finished speaking he had regained his former +self-possession and seemed to regard her threats as so many idle words. + +Then I thought they changed places. He seemed to be making some request +of her, a request which I thought put fear into her heart, although she +yielded not to him. If she could not make him bend to her will neither +could he make her bend to his. What impressed me, moreover, was the +courage of this young girl. For although she might be the wife of the +man at the inn, ay, and even obeyed him in unreasonable requests, she +held her ground boldly before this old man living in the lonely house in +the midst of the Pycroft woods. But the wonder of it was to me beyond +words. A young girl fighting for her ends against this weird looking old +man. What was the meaning of it? + +Presently their conversation seemed to change again. I saw her point to +the curious looking things which lay on the table, and this drew my +attention to what seemed to me like glass tubes, several strange looking +vases, and, what was to me more strange and mysterious still, two human +skulls. As she spoke he took up one of the skulls, and as far as I could +judge began to tell her something of the horrible thing which he held in +his hand. + +To this she seemed to say something as if in protest for I heard his +answer, in a harsh cracked voice. + +"Let them. They who would harm me must know my secrets, and they who +would know my secrets must penetrate the depths of this old brain. And +can they, ah, can they?" + +Her reply to this did not reach me plainly, but I gathered that she told +him of men who for dealing with the powers of darkness had suffered at +the stake. + +"Burn me!" he cried, and his voice reached me clearly. "Let them try. +Before a man is burnt, he confesses, and I would confess! Ay, I would +confess such things as would bring many a high head low. Judges, judges. +Ay, but who is the judge that would dare to anger me?" + +He shook his fist angrily, while his long beard waved to and fro as he +shook his head in rage. + +After this I could gather nothing for a long time. Sometimes they moved +to another part of the room and then I could see nothing but dim blurred +figures behind the thick uneven glass, while their voices only reached +me in low mutterings. + +After a time they moved near the fireplace again, and then I saw another +look upon the girl's face. I saw fear and anxiety which I had not noted +before. Evidently he had told her of something, or she had somehow +discovered something, that moved her more deeply than anything which had +gone before. The look on her face was pleading, and she held up her +hands beseechingly. I saw, too, that the old man was evidently well +pleased with himself, for I heard him give utterance to a pleased little +cackle, which he intended for a laugh. + +[Illustration: "I saw that the girl had fallen on her knees."] + +"And if I do, and if I do, little Constance, what then?" + +Again she spoke eagerly, passionately I thought, while the look on his +face became more and more full of self-satisfaction. + +"Ah, ah," I heard him cackle, "so you discover that Old Solomon still +hath his wits, eh? That his bow hath many strings, eh? That he hath not +sold himself to the devil for naught, eh? Ah, ah, but it does an old +man's heart good to see you, pretty little Constance." + +I had discovered her name at last. Constance. At that time I could think +of nothing sweeter, even although it was spoken by this withered, +wrinkled old man in tones of ribaldry and mocking. Put it down to my +youth if you will, but the knowledge of her name made me long to be her +friend more than ever. + +I looked away towards the eastward sky, and saw a faint glow in the +horizon. Evidently morning was drawing near. In another hour the sun +would have risen, and I began to wonder how the strange visit would end; +but in another moment the thought of morning was driven from me, for I +saw that the girl had fallen on her knees before the strange old +creature. I caught no words, but that she pleaded with him was evident, +while more than once I heard her sobbing. I saw too that he seemed to be +relenting, nay, I thought I saw even tenderness on his creased +forbidding face, which was followed by a look of cunning. + +"And if I do, what then?" I heard him say. + +But of her answer I caught nothing, although I strained every nerve to +catch even the faintest sound. + +"More than that, more than that, pretty Constance," I heard him say. +"Obedience, my pretty bird, obedience!" + +And now I saw a look of terror in her eyes, yet did she keep on pleading +until the old man seemed to make up his mind to grant her request. + +I saw him leave the room, while she stood like one transfixed. She was +standing where the light shone straight upon her face, so that I could +see every feature, but nevertheless I could read no story thereon which +revealed her secret. Courage I saw, tenderness I saw, nay, more it +seemed to realize that it was not her own battle that she was fighting. +What fear she had was not for herself. For who was it then? I could +think of no one save the man at the inn, and there came into my head a +great anger, and a desire to wrest the secret of his power over her from +him. + +What led her to the window, I wondered. Was it the faint twitter of the +birds which began to bestir themselves at the rising of the King of Day, +or did she give a thought to me who had promised to wait outside for +her. I saw her place her face close against the glass and look steadily +out. What was in her mind, I asked myself. Did the thought that I was +near give her comfort or help? She could not see me, for it was yet dark +and I was almost hidden by the tree which I had climbed; nevertheless +she kept her face there until she was attracted, even as I had been +attracted, by a noise in the room. + +She turned around quickly, and then I saw her move hastily away. She was +now behind the thick uneven glass again, so that I could see nothing +clearly, but I could have sworn that I saw another woman there. What she +was like I could not tell, for she never came to that part of the room +where I could see plainly. A minute later the woman who had been my +companion left the room with the other, while the old man stood watching +the door, with a look of doubt on his face, as if he doubted the wisdom +of what he had done. A moment later he followed them, leaving the room +in utter darkness. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE MYSTERY OF PYCROFT + + +I waited a few minutes, but no one came back to the room. Moreover dawn +was now appearing; the birds were singing louder every minute; the +silence of night was dying in the gladsomeness of a new day. I crept +down from the tree, my mind wellnigh bewildered by what I had seen and +heard. When I had left my home two days before I had no idea that I +should so soon be enshrouded in the mists of mystery. Nay, a few hours +before, when I had ridden up to the inn in Folkestone town, I did not +dream that before sunrise new interests and new hopes would arise in my +life. Yet so it was. At sundown my one hope was to find the clue to the +hiding place of the marriage contract of the new king with Lucy Walters, +now, although I had in no way abandoned the mission which inspired me +when I set out, it had become interwoven with other interests which +kindled my imagination and stirred my heart even more. + +Who was that old man? Why did he live there all alone? What was the +secret of that old house? What was the link that bound the woman I had +accompanied hither with this strange old creature? Why had she come +hither, and who was that other woman who had come into the room? + +These and a hundred other questions haunted my mind as I waited near the +house, while both eyes and ears were open to every sight and sound. +Almost unconsciously I crept away to the spot where I had separated from +the woman, and this place being somewhat higher than the house gave me a +full view of the building. + +As day came on, the outlines of the house became more clear to me. I saw +that it could scarcely be called a mansion, while on the other hand it +was larger than a farmer's dwelling, nay for that matter it was +evidently intended as the dwelling place of a man of importance. It was +a low irregular building, built of stone, and was evidently of great +strength. The doors were heavy and iron studded. The mullioned windows +were so constructed that no one could enter through them. Moreover iron +bars obtained everywhere; at no place, as far as I could see, could any +one find an entrance, save at the will of those who dwelt within. An air +of dilapidation reigned. There was no evidence anywhere that the place +was inhabited. The paths were covered with weeds and grass. What were at +one time flower gardens had become a wild mess. The grass grew in large +quantities, while wild flowers were appearing in great profusion. But +nowhere was human care visible. + +The spring air blew fresh and cold, and although the birds sang blithely +they did not dispel the feeling of desolation which everywhere reigned. +Had I not seen those two women and the old man I should have said that +Pycroft Hall had been deserted at least ten years. Nothing save birds +and insects betokened life. Not a bark of a dog, or the low of a cow +even, could be heard. All told of lonely desolation. + +In spite of myself I shivered. My clothes were wet with dew, and +standing in the shadow of the trees as I was the rays from the rising +sun did not reach me. Like a man dazed I crept to an open spot where the +sun shone, but it seemed to give no heat. Bright spring morning though +it might be it was deathly cold, and more than all, my heart was cold. + +I waited in silence, how long I do not know, but it seemed a long time. +Still I remained there, listening for the sound of footsteps, and for +the presence of the woman. I made up my mind concerning the questions I +should ask her. Cunning, searching questions I thought they were, such +as would lead her, unknown to herself, to give me the clue to the secret +which threw a shadow over her life. I planned how I could gain her +confidence, and, presently, by my own wisdom and courage, free her from +the weight which I felt sure was crushing her. + +Meanwhile the sun rose higher and higher. The day was now fully come, +and yet neither sight nor sound reached me. + +"What is the meaning of this?" I asked myself. "She promised to cry out +if she were in danger. She told me to wait for her." + +I called to mind that she had said nothing concerning her future plans, +or of her return to the inn at Folkestone. Then a thought came into my +mind which dismayed me and determined me to take action. I therefore +left the spot where I had been standing and crept closer and closer to +the house. I did not keep within sight of the windows. I feared to do +so, not for my own sake but for hers, even although I did not know what +harm I should be doing her by exposing myself to sight. Still I +remembered how eagerly she had pleaded with me not to enter the house +with her. I judged she was anxious that I should not be seen by the man +with whom she had an interview that night. + +I was not long in discovering, however, that my precautions were +needless. No one appeared, and all was silent. Presently growing bolder +I walked around the building. There was no sign that any living being +save myself was near. Every door, every window was closed and bolted, +and as I listened the silence of death seemed to reign in the old home +of the Pycrofts. + +"She is gone," I cried out like one bewildered, "but whither hath she +gone? what hath happened to her?" But only the deathly silence of the +deserted house made answer to the question which had unwittingly come to +my lips. + +At first I could scarcely realize it, and I could not help believing +that the dread calamity at which she had hinted had befallen her while +in the company of the man. + +Presently I climbed to one of the windows, some of the panes of which +were broken, and looked in. I saw only an empty and deserted room. It +looked very dreary just then, although I doubt not that at one time it +had rung with joyous revelry. It was a large dining hall, oak panelled +and oak ceiled. The chimney piece, moreover, although black with age and +smoke, was quaintly carved, while there were many other indications that +the builders of Pycroft Hall were people who loved things tasteful and +pleasant to behold. I placed my ear to the broken pane also, but no +sound could I hear. A silence like unto that of death reigned. + +At this time all through which I had passed through the night seemed +like a dream, and I felt like doubting the things which I have here set +down. Especially was this so when, emboldened by the continuous silence, +I gave a shout, which echoed and re-echoed through the forsaken rooms. + +"What hath happened to her?" I asked myself again and again, and each +time I asked the question the more difficult did the answer become. + +Presently I took a more commonplace view of the matter. "Doubtless she +hath gone back to Folkestone," I said to myself; "perchance, moreover, +the other woman I saw hath gone back with her, while the old man hath +accompanied them a part of the way. After all the woman did not promise +to return to me. She did not ask me to accompany her; rather it was +against her will that she allowed me to walk by her side. Perhaps if I +make haste I shall overtake them before they reach the _Barley Sheaf_." + +But although I said this I did not leave the place at the time the +determination was born in my mind. There still remained lingering doubts +whether she was not immured in this lonely house, and whether she might +not even then be needing my aid. But after I had again made a journey +around the building, I was led to the conclusion that it was deserted. I +would have given much to have entered, so that I might have set my +doubts at rest, but as I have said, every door was closed and bolted, +while every window was so barricaded that no man might enter except +after great preparations. + +I therefore presently turned back disappointed and weary; the woman, the +pathway of whose life I had so strangely crossed, had willed to go away +without telling me whither she had gone, or perchance she had been +compelled to do the will of the man with whom I had seen her in the room +opposite the fir tree. + +There seemed no reason why I should trouble about this, yet I did. A +great weight rested upon my heart and, even when I had left the Pycroft +woods and was out on the main road again and saw the clear blue sky +above me, I was oppressed by what had taken place and I accused myself +of being unfaithful to the promise I had made. + +What o'clock it was when I reached Folkestone town I know not, but it +was yet early, for but few people were stirring, neither did the inmates +of the tavern seem to have aroused themselves from the carousal of the +previous night. I found the main door opened, however, so I entered as +carelessly as I was able, in the hope that if any one appeared I might +give the impression that I had gone out for an early morning walk. But +no man molested me as I found my way to the chamber which had been +allotted to me, neither could I hear a sound coming from the adjoining +room. All was perfectly still. + +I went into the corridor and listened intently, but no man stirred. If +the man, the thought of whom aroused angry feelings in my heart, slept +near me, he must have slept as peacefully as a child. + +After a time I heard the sound of bustle and movement in the rooms +beneath me, and then, although the thought of food had never entered my +mind during the night, I felt a great hunger. I therefore made my way +down stairs, where great steaks of ham fresh from the frying pan were +speedily set before me. + +"A fine morning," I said to the maid who brought them. + +"Ay, it feels like summer," she replied. + +"Are there many people here who have been sleeping at the inn to-night." + +"I dunnow," and with that she left the room. + +I thought the maid desired not to answer my question, but this, while it +aroused suspicions in my mind did not keep me from eating a hearty +breakfast. Moreover, I felt neither tired nor sleepy. My journey of ten +miles, my long watching and waiting, seemed to have affected me not one +whit, and when I had finished breakfast I had no more weariness than +when I had left my home two days before. In spite of my anxiety, too, I +felt strangely light of heart, and as the sunlight streamed into the +room I found myself humming a song. + +"Good morning to you, young master, and a good appetite." + +It was the landlord who spoke, the very man I wanted to see. + +"The same to you Master Landlord," I replied. + +"Ay, but I spoiled my appetite an hour ago, young master. An innkeeper +must needs be an early riser." + +"Ay, I suppose so," I made answer, blessing my stars that the man had +given me the very opening which I desired. "Doubtless some of your +guests have taken leave of you this morning." + +"As to that, no, young master." + +"Ah, no one has left you to-day?" + +"No, not to-day." + +"That is lucky for me," I said, "for I had fears lest one of your guests +whom I wanted to see had left before I had a chance of speaking to him." + +"And which might that be, if I am not making too bold in asking?" he +said, and I thought his eyes searched my face curiously. + +"The Cavalier who rode up last night with a lady." + +"Ah, but which?" + +"I saw but one," I made answer. "He came up even while the groom was +unsaddling my own horse. A tall man, with black hair just turning grey. +He wore a grey feather in his hat, and his sword was jewel hilted." + +"That description might apply to many a traveller who puts up here," he +replied. "His name, young master, his name?" + +"As to his name," I replied, for here the man had found a weak place in +my armour, "well there may be reasons for not mentioning it." + +"I have naught to do with nameless wanderers, young master, and thank +God the country will have less than ever to do with them since England's +true king is coming back. Each traveller who comes to this inn gives his +name as a gentleman should. It is well known for five miles around, ay, +fifty for that matter, among those who travel, that _The Barley Sheaf_ +bears a name second to none. Its sack is of the best, its company the +best, while neither footpad nor traitor is ever welcomed within its +walls." + +The man spoke as I thought with unnecessary warmth. There seemed no +reason why he should be so anxious to defend the character of the house +before a youth like myself, who made no charge against it. + +"Methinks he does protest too much," I said to myself, calling to mind +the words of Master Will Shakespeare, whose writings had been little +read during Cromwell's time, but whose plays I had often read with much +delight. Still I remembered my father's advice, and determined to arouse +no suspicion in his mind. + +"I heard of that before I came hither," I replied. "As to the sack, and +the company, I made acquaintance with both last night, and that with +rare pleasure. Nevertheless a man doth not blazon his name on the walls +of every inn he enters. Even King Charles II, who is expected to land at +Dover before many days are over, had often to enter places like this +under an assumed name, as every one knows right well. And, even although +times will be changed at his return, it may be that many a man, while he +may give his name to such as yourself, will not care to shout it aloud +to the tapster or the ostler." + +"Ay there is reason in that," replied the innkeeper, "and I perceive +that young as you are you are a gentleman of rare wit." + +"As to that, mine host," I made answer, "I may not boast, still I have +wit enough to know that it may not always be best to speak names aloud +in an inn, although the king will be in England soon." + +"God bless King Charles II, and down with all psalm-singing traitors," +he cried fervently. + +"Amen to that," I cried; "down with all traitors whether they sing +psalms or no. But to come to my question, since the worshipful gentleman +whom I have described hath not had the misfortune to be obliged to leave +this hospitable house, I trust you will take my name to him, with the +request that I may enjoy a few minutes of his company." + +"You mean the gentleman who rode a grey horse with a grey feather in his +hat, and carried a jewelled hilted sword?" + +"Ay, I mean him. He was accompanied by a lady, who wore a long cloak, +and whose face was wellnigh hidden by her headgear; I heard him ask you +for private rooms as he entered." + +"But did you not know?" + +"Know what?" + +"That he left last night at midnight." + +"At midnight?" + +"Ay, a messenger came bearing him important news, and although the lady +had gone to bed he had to arouse her, ay, and the ostler too for that +matter. Both their horses were saddled, and they rode away at one o' th' +clock, but whither they have gone I know not." + +At this I was silent, for I knew that the man had told a lie. + +"But what would you?" continued the innkeeper. "We shall have bustling +times now, and the innkeeper's trade will be brisk, so he must not +grumble. Besides, he paid his count like a prince, and would not take +the silver change which he could rightfully claim." + +Now this brought me to a deadlock, as can be seen. I dared not ask +direct questions, first because I did not wish to arouse suspicions, and +next because I feared by so doing I should shew my state of utter +ignorance concerning the man about whom I inquired. Still when one is +twenty-three one does not lack confidence, and youth will dare to rush +bareheaded where an older man would hesitate to enter with a steel +head-cap. + +"Ah, I would I had known," I replied. "I could perhaps have told him +that his danger was not so great as he imagined." + +At this he started like one surprised, while his eyes flashed a look of +inquiry. + +"Danger?" he said questioningly. "What danger, young sir?" + +"Better not give it a name," I made answer. "Besides I do not know how +much he hath told you, and I would betray no man's secrets. Solomon said +many wise things and wrote them down in a book, and Solomon, whom some +call a fool," here I stopped, and looked into his face, "although his +writings are placed among the holy Scriptures, said that there was a +time to hold one's peace as well as to speak." + +"Solomon had many ways of obtaining knowledge," he said, almost timidly +I thought. + +"Ay, some have said that they were means known only to himself." + +I could have sworn that the man trembled. Whether I was getting any +nearer the truth or no I knew not, but I was sure that my words were +construed by the innkeeper in such a way that he fancied I was the +possessor of the secret he had sought to hide. Still the man doubted me, +and he did not seem inclined to offer any information. + +"God save King Charles II," he said, as though he thought I doubted his +loyalty. + +"Amen to that," I replied. Then I continued quietly, still watching him: +"Charles is a good name, whether borne by a king or another man." + +Now whether he was too thick in the head to understand the drift of my +words, or whether I was on the wrong track I know not; whatever may be +the truth he suddenly left the room, craving pardon for leaving me so +abruptly, and assuring me that he had many things to attend to that +morning. + +Alone again, I had time to collect my thoughts. The landlord's +communication if true, left me more in the dark than ever. That he had +told me lies I knew, but whether it was a lie that the man had left the +inn I had not yet been able to discover. I called to mind the words I +had heard spoken in the bedchamber next to my own, and remembered that +the man had told the woman to return early in the morning before any one +was astir. Would he, having given such commands, depart at midnight +leaving her alone and helpless? + +In truth the mystery in which I had become involved seemed to entangle +me more than ever. Then I called myself a fool for not taking a +necessary step, and one which would have occurred immediately to any one +that was not half-witted. + +I hurried to the stables, and there I found that, whether the landlord +had spoken truly or no, the horses which had brought the man and woman +the previous night were gone. Only my own stood there eating her fill of +oats. I went to her and patted her, and then looked round for some +evidence which might tell me how long it was since the others were taken +away. But nothing could I see. The stable was cleaned, and every mark +that they had been there was taken away. + +The ostler entered as I made the examination. + +"No horses here beside mine, ostler?" + +"No sir; I had to get up in the middle of the night to saddle two which +came about the same time as yours. I was rare and tired too. But there +was a lady in the question, and you are old enough to know that what a +woman wills will have to be." + +"Ay," I replied with a laugh, wondering whether his information had not +been given at the command of the innkeeper. + +I therefore pretended to take no further notice of the fellow; +nevertheless I kept him within sight, and presently when I saw him go up +to the landlord, as though he had some special communication to make, I +drew my own conclusions. + +Nevertheless I was at my wits' end what to do. I had done all that was +in my power, but as yet I had found out nothing. The man and the woman +had crossed my path, and the man had gone without my speaking a word to +him. But the case of the woman was different. I had seen her and spoken +to her. I had heard the note of pain and anguish in her voice, I had +watched her face as she spoke with the old man at Pycroft Hall, the man +who my father believed held the secret of the king's marriage. But she +had gone, leaving no trace behind. What was the meaning of it all? I +wandered over the cliffs which border the sea at Folkestone, and +presently my thoughts became more clear. If the old man possessed the +secret of the king's marriage he also possessed the secret of the +woman's life. It was true I had not been able to enter Pycroft Hall that +morning but it might be that he would again visit it during the night. +Well I would go to the old place again that night, and if the light +shone at the window, I would demand admittance and then trust to my own +courage and wit to meet whatever I might happen to see. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +HOW I ENTERED PYCROFT + + +Directly I had made up my mind to pay a second visit to Pycroft Hall my +spirits rose, and my heart grew warm. The thought of meeting the weird +old creature, and speaking with him face to face, stirred my blood, and +kindled my imagination. Moreover, for the first time the new king's +marriage contract became real to me. For what did not come to me through +the night came to me on the cliffs. And this I have found since then; it +is when I have a sense of freedom that I am able to think. When I am +beneath tall trees, or imprisoned within stone walls, my mind refuses to +grasp the issues of things. But when I stand in the light, in God's open +places, not only does my natural vision widen, but also the vision of +mind and soul becomes more keen and has greater range. The thoughts +which a man thinks in the dark, and in cramped places, are smaller than +those which come to him beneath the great dome of the sky, when the wind +blows free, and naught belittles his sight. At least this hath always +been the case with me. When I would think the best thoughts I am capable +of thinking, I long to live in a large place where the sunlight is +strong. + +Through the night I had wondered blindly what drew the woman to Pycroft +Hall, and what was in the man's mind who sent her there, but no answer +came to me. Now, as I walked along the cliffs, in sight of the great sea +whose waters flashed brightly in the light of the early summer's sun, I +thought of many reasons. And this among others: If my father, and +Katharine Harcomb, and Lucy Walters' mother had heard of Pycroft Hall, +and of Elijah Pycroft, why not others? If I had been led to try and +obtain power over the king might not others? If the man who had sent +the woman to Pycroft at night were Sir Charles Denman, a man upon whom +the king's anger rested, would he not desire to move heaven and earth to +possess a secret whereby he could make terms with his monarch? If I had +heard of the king's marriage contract he also had heard of it, and had +sent his wife to obtain knowledge of the thing. But why had he sent her? +To this many answers came. For one thing he was afraid, and for another +he believed that this beauteous woman would succeed where he had failed. +Besides his power over her was great. She also lived in great fear, and +he used that fear in order to make her obey his behests. + +All this seemed so natural that I called myself a fool for not thinking +of it before. Why had I allowed my opportunities to slip through my +hands? Besides, might not the woman have succeeded? What was the meaning +of the other woman entering? And more, whither had they gone? + +But this did not trouble me much. There was no sign of victory on the +woman's face. Had she gained possession of such papers she would have +revealed her victory, whereas I had seen her face the moment before the +other woman had appeared, and it told only of yearnings and the shadow +of a great fear. + +I am putting down these thoughts here, so that those who may hap to read +this may see the position in which I was placed, and the difficulties +that stood in my way. I am aware also that those whose thoughts are +clearer, and whose minds are better balanced than mine, may have good +reason for thinking that I had acted foolishly, and had taken altogether +the wrong way to accomplish my purpose. I would have them remember, +however, that I was but a lad of twenty-three, and that youth is not +famed for its discretion. Moreover, as I look back now, I wonder what I +could have done whereby I could better have accomplished the thing I had +set out to accomplish. + +Before I had been on the cliffs an hour, I had made my plans, and these +I started to carry out without delay. First of all I went back to the +stable and had my horse saddled, and having ridden four miles in the +direction of Pycroft Hall, I cast my eyes around in the hope of seeing +some one. But no one was in sight. The neighbourhood was thinly +inhabited. Not a horseman was to be seen on the road, not a labourer was +working in the fields. I found out afterwards that practically the whole +country side had emptied itself in order to be present at the landing of +the king at Dover. That not knowing the exact day of his coming they had +gone to Dover a few days in advance so that they might be certain to be +there to give him a royal welcome. In truth I found out that for a full +week before the king came the town of Dover was a huge fair, and that +revelry continued from midnight to midnight without ceasing. + +Presently, however, I caught sight of a man who was cutting wood by one +of the fences some distance away, whereupon I rode across the fields to +the place where he was. + +He looked at me attentively, and then held the tool with which he worked +in such a way that I imagined he thought I meant to attack him. + +"You be young for your work, young master," he said, eyeing me grimly. + +"Why?" I asked pleasantly. + +"Otherwise you would never come to a working man who has not a groat in +his pouch," he replied. + +"Why, you think I am a footpad?" I asked. + +"Else why should you gallop across hedges and ditches as though the +devil were behind you? Eh, young man, give it up. It only ends in the +gallows, and it must be a fearful life to live, always seeing the rope's +end dangling before your eyes." + +"Instead of wanting to take your groats from you, my man, I will e'en +give you one instead. Nay, believe me, I am peaceably inclined, and +instead of being a highwayman I am making inquiries about an old house +which I am told is empty, and which may perchance be for sale." + +Again he looked at me, and then touched his hat respectfully. + +"You be from London, young master?" + +"I left London less than a week ago," I replied. "I have come in search +of a house, and I have been told there is one near here, which being +empty and forsaken, a man might buy cheaply." + +"The name o't, young master?" he said questioningly. + +"It is called Pycroft, or some such name," I replied. + +"And is it Pycroft you thought of buying, young master?" + +"Rather, I am come to ask questions about it." + +At this he laughed. "No man will ever live at Pycroft," he said. + +"Why? Is not the house a good one?" + +"It's the company, not the house I was thinking of." + +"The company?" + +"Many and many's the one who has thought of living at Pycroft, but no +man hath dared. Through the day it's right eno', but at night the +trouble begins. There is not a witch for twenty miles around but gets +her marks at Pycroft; there's not a witches' revel but is held there, +and as every man knows after they have met at their revels the devilry +begins. The corn is blighted, the cows give no milk, the murrain blights +the stock, children have the rickets, and everything goes wrong. I have +heard that it can be bought for an old song, but no man will buy it. +Through the day it seems all quiet and restful, but at night-time blue +fires have been seen there, awful smells come from there, ay, and the +devil hath been seen there." + +These last words the man spoke with a shudder. + +"It is said," he went on, "that the parson, who is a man of God if ever +there was one, and who is death on wizards and witches, is going to +appeal to the new king to have it blown up with gunpowder, so that we +may have peace and quietness again, and so that farmers may sow their +corn without fear that it will be blighted before harvest comes." + +"But what is the cause of all this?" + +"Ah, you are not from these parts, and have never learnt Solomon the +Fool lived there. Who he was nobody knows, but he came there long years +agone before I came to live in this parish, and I have heard that he had +dealings with the Pope o' Rome. Anyhow, some said that his life was in +danger, and in order to be match for all the world he sold himself to +the devil." + +At this I could not help laughing, for although such stories were +generally believed in, that which I had seen the night before drove such +thoughts from me. + +"Ay, you may laugh, young master, but it is no laughing matter. For +years he did things which no one can explain, and all sorts of things +happened. Then one day he died." + +"Died!" + +"Ay, it must be ten years agone now, and ever since then no man will go +near it after sundown. While the sun shines the devil dare not go there; +but after dark Old Solomon and the devil do come back, and there Old +Solomon do plead with the devil to give him back his soul." + +Again I could not help smiling, even although the man's face was pale +with fear. + +"Ay, young master, but let me tell you this: One night three of the +strongest men in these parts were over at the _Queen's Head_, in the +parish of St. John, drinking. You may have heard of them even in London. +Three brothers, and each man of them stood over six foot and a half +high. Well, they declared after they had each drunk a quart of strong +ale that they feared nothing under heaven. Then the landlord made a bet +that they dared not go and spend the hours from eleven to one o'clock in +the middle of the night at Pycroft. Well they took the bet, for five +pounds it was, and the next night Jack, and Jim, and Tom Turtle started +for Pycroft. A lot of us walked with them to the gates, and although we +were in great fear we waited for them to return. We comforted ourselves +by trying to sing psalms and saying our prayers, as the parson advised +us to do. But we didn't have to wait two hours, young master. Before +midnight they was back to us again, and each of them was trembling like +an aspen leaf." + +"Why, what did they see?" + +"Ay, master, we could never get that from them, except by little bits. +One spoke of blue flames, another told of howling, another said he had +seen Old Solomon come to life again, and he chased them through the +woods. The next day, when they told the parson, he went up there; but +naught could he see. Every door was locked and barred, every window was +fastened." + +"And were there any evidences that any one had been there through the +night?" + +"Ay, there were; the parson saw footmarks which were half the footmarks +of a man, and half of a beast. But that was not all. When the parson +tried to look into the place, through a window where a small pane of +glass was broken, he smelt brimstone--brimstone, young master. And since +then the parson hath it that while a man may be safe to go there while +the sun is shining, ten chances to one but he will be met with the devil +after sundown. And so no man will buy the house master, and no man will +go there after dark." + +"But from whom did this old man Solomon get the house?" I asked. + +"It is said that he was one of the Pycrofts, but I know not. Some have +it that old Lord Denman had it at one time, but I do not know. Others +say there's a spell cast upon it. Certain it is that the parson says +that on a huge stone near the front door these words are carved-- + + A Pycroft built this house + In the hardest of stone, + And the mortar was truly mixed + With a Pycroft's blood and bone, + If another here would live + Because of a well-lined purse, + The mortar shall become + The buyer's lasting curse." + +In spite of myself the labourer's talk made me pause, but I was not the +son of my father for naught. The teaching of a lifetime was not to be +destroyed because of an ignorant man's vain babbling, and I held to my +resolution to visit the old place again that night. I therefore +presently rode back, and after a hearty meal I fell asleep, from which I +did not wake till sundown. + +I gathered that no one asked any questions why I was there; in truth, +every man seemed too much interested in the coming of the king and the +changes that would be wrought in the land to trouble aught about me; so, +telling the landlord that I should not be back until late, I left the +inn about an hour after sundown and took a roundabout road to Pycroft. +Moreover, I took good heed that I was not followed, and by an hour +before midnight I had entered the dark woods that grew around the lonely +house. + +Now, although I had carried a brave heart during daylight, I was not +able to choke down my fears in the darkness. I have been told that +nature hath given me firm nerves; moreover, I can meet a danger as well +as another man without shewing fear, but once within the shadow of the +woods which surrounded the haunted house I confess that my heart +wellnigh failed me. The stories which the labourer had related came back +to me with great vividness, so that before I had come within sight of +the house I seemed to be surrounded with all sorts of grinning things, +some of which lured me on, while others warned me against going farther. +The cracking of every twig made my heart beat faster, the twitter of a +startled bird told me that I was in a domain where the devil held his +revels and where spirits of darkness worked their will. + +Still I determined to go forward. I was calm enough to know that on the +morrow I should laugh at these fancies, and that, did they hinder me +from carrying out my plans now, I should all my life accuse myself of +being a poltroon. Besides, what report should I have to give to my +father, the man who knew no fear and who would be ashamed of a son who +believed in old wives' fables? So I set my teeth firmly together and +trudged my way through the darkness, stopping every now and then to +listen if any one was near. + +Never shall I forget my journey along that lonely pathway, for as I look +back now, it seems to mark an era in my life. But of that I must not +speak now: I will tell my story in as straightforward a way as I am +able, so that those who read may judge for themselves. And yet, if I +felt fear, I maintain that it was no wonder, for my experiences were not +those with which a man meets every day. Besides, I had but three days +left my home, where I had lived an uneventful life, and now to be cast +alone amidst mystery and danger was a matter of no small moment. + +Presently I emerged from the woods into the open space where the woman +and I had stood on the previous night. I could see the moon, but it +seemed to sail in a hazy light, while around it was a great ring. Not a +sound could I hear. The songs of the birds had ceased; not an insect +moved its wings: all nature seemed asleep. After waiting a few moments, +scarce daring to look around me, I heard a sound like that of a distant +sigh; but it might have been only the night wind soughing through the +treetops, or it might have been only my own fancy. At length I dared to +look towards the house; but all was darkness, or at least so it seemed. +Then I noted that I stood on a different place from that on which I had +been standing when I had parted from the woman the night before, and it +might be that some angle hid the window I had seen then. + +I therefore crept along the brushwood until I reached the same place, +and then my heart gave a great bound. There, half hidden by the tree I +had climbed, was a light shining from the window. + +In a minute my ghostly fears vanished. What was the meaning of it all I +did not know, but I determined that I would find out before the night +was over. It is true I called to mind some of the things I had read in +the writings of Master Will Shakespeare, as well as passages from the +Holy Scriptures, all of which spoke with certainty concerning those who +possessed familiar spirits; but these influenced me not one jot at the +time. The light shone from the window as it had shone the night before, +and in all probability the same old man occupied the room. + +I therefore went swiftly across the open space towards the tree I have +spoken of, and before one might well count twenty I had climbed to the +branch whereon I had aforetime rested, and so again obtained view of the +chamber. This I did because I feared to seek admission without taking +precautions. If others were there as well as the old man, I might have +to adopt methods different from those I should make use of if he were +alone. I reflected that if what the woman Katharine Harcomb had told my +father were true, and that the king's marriage contract were hidden in +the house, he would guard it carefully. It was of too much importance to +treat lightly. What I did, therefore, must be done warily, neither must +I foolishly and with youthful wilfulness be led to betray myself. + +As I have said, therefore, I again climbed the tree, and obtained a view +of the chamber, and ere long saw the old man seated at a table, and by +the aid of a lamp was reading some scrolls, which he had spread out +before him. I watched him a few moments in silence, noting the eager +look upon his face, and the evident ardour with which he sought to +understand the writing on the parchment before him. Presently I saw him +take certain powders from a drawer, and place them in a pot, into which +he also poured some liquid. This done, he placed the pot on the fire, +and watched the liquid with great care. + +It was at this time that I determined to seek entrance. But how? I knew +that every door was securely bolted, every window barricaded. If I was +to enter, therefore, it must be by strategy. If the woman had obtained +admission the previous night there seemed no reason why the door could +not be opened to me. But what were the means she had used? I called +myself a fool for not following her, and thus learning the means she had +used; but that was futile now. Wisdom after a thing has happened is +generally foolishness, and so I ransacked my brains in thinking of what +she must have done. + +I have not set it down in these pages, but I did remember the previous +night that, when the woman drew near the house, I heard a noise like the +cry of a screech-owl. At the time I put it down to the night bird, but +now it occurred to me that it might have been a means whereby she +obtained entrance. At any rate, it could do no harm, and therefore I +slid silently down the tree, and made my way to the great door, where +the woman had entered. + +I must confess to a fast-beating heart as I stood by the great +iron-studded door. After all, I knew nothing of what I should see within +the walls, and the very mystery made every nerve tingle, while there +came to the eyes of my imagination pictures of many strange doings. So +strong was this feeling upon me that I stood still, scarce daring to +move. Then I saw in the moonlight what had escaped me in the early +morning. A piece of string hung by the postern of the door. Indeed, I +believe that it had not been there then. What did it mean? On closer +examination I saw that it was passed through a hole in the woodwork. + +Scarcely realizing what I was doing, I tugged at the piece of string, +and immediately I heard a kind of clanking noise within. This, although +I might have expected some such result, startled me so that I cried out +almost involuntarily. + +A minute later the clanking ceased, and then silence reigned again. But +now that I had once tugged at the string, and no harm had happened to +me, I pulled it again and then, using what powers of mimicry I had, I +cried out as I had heard the screech-owl cry among the trees around my +old home. + +Again I listened, and this time I heard cautious footsteps. I judged +then, as I know now, that the footsteps were muffled, nevertheless there +was something very weird in listening to the stealthy tread of some one +creeping nearer and nearer to me. A minute later I knew that some one +stood at the other side of the door. I heard some one murmuring, and +then another silence followed. I waited I should think a minute, but no +further sound came, whereupon I again repeated the cry of the night +bird. At this, I heard the clanking of chains and the shooting of bolts, +as though the one within were preparing to open the door, after which +there was again a moment's silence as if he hesitated. + +"Are you prepared to pay the price of entrance?" + +The words were uttered in a hoarse whisper, and at that time they seemed +to contain some occult meaning, so that for a moment I hesitated to +reply. But I summoned up my courage, and made answer also in a hoarse +whisper-- + +"I am prepared." + +Then the great door began to creak and to slowly open. Knowing how much +depended on my speed of action, no sooner was the aperture between the +door and its lintel a few inches wide than, putting all my strength +against it, I forced it back, and found myself inside the building +before he who had opened it had been able to obtain a glimpse of me. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +FATHER SOLOMON AT BAY + + +So sudden had been my movement that I had caused the old man to stagger +back, nevertheless he did not lose his footing, and when he caught sight +of me, I thought I detected a desire on his part to rush through the +open doorway. So, before he could take any such action, I closed the +door with a loud noise--a noise which resounded through the great lonely +building. + +I could see that my entrance had astonished him. That he expected some +one else was evident, and from the look in his eyes I knew that he had +no knowledge nor suspicion as to who I was. He held a small oil lamp on +the level of his head, by which means he caused its light to fall +directly on my face. I saw, too, that his keen deep-set eyes rested on +me as though he would read my thoughts, and I judged that he was at a +loss how he should treat me. + +"And so you would use your brute strength to enter the house of a lonely +man, who desires only that he may seek to do the will of God," he said +slowly, and I could have sworn that he was seeking to measure my +strength and was calculating whether it would be wise to throw himself +upon me. + +I do not know why it was, but for answer I only laughed. Perhaps this +was because the old man's voice had driven away the last vestige of +superstitious fear. + +"You are young for your trade, young master," he continued, still +keeping his eyes steadily fixed on me, "and if my old eyes do not tell +me falsely, you are ill fitted for it. Your face tells me that you +should be an honest youth, not a roystering and lying housebreaker and +highwayman. So leave me at once. I have naught of which you can rob me. +Gold and silver have I none. I am simply a harmless old man who seeks to +spend the rest of his days in communion with his thoughts and his +Maker." + +"Your age hath taught you but little wisdom, if it hath taught you that +I am a footpad," I said. "Neither do I seek gold or silver." + +"Then what do you seek?" he asked with a snarl. + +"A quiet hour with you." + +I saw him glance quickly around the entrance hall of the house in which +we stood, as though he feared we were not alone. Then he took a step +nearer to me. + +"A quiet hour, young man?" + +"Ay, a quiet hour." + +"I tell you this," and his voice became bitter: "If you do not leave +this house--nay, nay." He stopped as if to correct himself. "A quiet +hour--ay, a quiet hour, that you shall have, young master. So quiet that +you shall not even know when it hath come to an end, so quiet that the +spirits of the dead which haunt this house shall scarcely know when you +have entered their worshipful company." + +By this time I saw that he had recovered from the surprise he had +experienced at my entrance. His deep-set eyes rested steadily upon me, +and he spoke like one in deep thought. I therefore watched him closely, +for although he was an old man, he shewed no sign of feebleness. His +eyes were keen and alert, and he moved with the activity of youth. + +"But why wish you this quiet hour, young master?" + +"To know many things which you can tell me," I answered boldly enough, +although I was anything but light hearted. + +"Ay, I will tell you of many things," he said quickly, "things that you +will never repeat, my son, never, never, never." + +He repeated the word as I have written it down with great solemnity, and +for the last time between his set teeth and with terrible intensity. + +"Did you take advice from any man before you sought admission within +these walls, young master?" he went on, "Did you commend your soul to +your Maker? Did you bid good-bye to all you hold most dear?" + +"I did not do any of these things, Father Solomon," I answered as +jauntily at I could. + +"Thus you show your foolishness." + +"That is as may be," I made answer. + +"And what do you think will be the end of this visit?" he asked, and I +thought his interest was growing in me. + +"The end, Father Solomon?" I replied with a laugh. "The end will be that +you will tell me what I wish to know, and then we shall say good-bye." + +"You are but a youth," he said solemnly. "You are yet only on the +threshold of life, therefore it grieves even me that you should be cut +off before your prime. And yet I see no chance of your escape. You have +entered the region of the departed dead, you have lifted to your lips +the goblet of which lost souls drink. Still, I would save you if I +could. If you will take the oath that I shall prescribe, an oath to the +Prince of Darkness who reigns here, then may I be persuaded to allow you +to depart without injury." + +The man made me shiver as he spoke, but I had not come hither to be +frightened before my work was begun. So I summoned up all my courage, +and laughed in his face. + +"You laugh!" he cried angrily, "but in an hour from now you shall hear +only the laughter of devils. The only words of comfort that you shall +hear shall come from the lips of hell-hags, who shall drag you deeper +and deeper down into the caverns of darkness." + +"Have done with this, Elijah Pycroft," I said quietly, for this threat +made me feel that he was uttering only gipsy cant. + +He started as I mentioned his name, but still he kept up the part which +I believed he was trying to play. + +"Come, power of darkness, and seize him," he cried, like one invoking +some distant being; "tear his soul from his body, and drag it into +eternal gloom!" Then turning to me, he said in a hoarse whisper, "Listen +I do you not hear them coming? Fly ere it be too late." + +"Let your powers of darkness come, Elijah," I said quietly, "but I tell +you this: before they come there are certain things you will have to +tell me." + +"What things?" he snarled. "Tell me who you are? Tell me what you want?" + +"All in good time," I said confidently, for by this time I began to +enjoy the situation rather than to fear it; "but before I tell you aught +let me go to your workshop, Master Elijah--the chamber where you keep +your grinning skulls and your witch potions. For I have a great desire +to enter that chamber. Ay, you must have rare doings there! Last night +you received pretty women, and to-night you receive not women, but a man +with a sword and pistols in his belt. Ay, and the pistols are loaded, +Master Elijah, and I am a fair marksman." + +"Very well," he said after a moment's thought. "On your own head be the +curse of your acts. But wait here for one moment. I will e'en go and +prepare the room for your coming." + +"Nay, nay, we will go together," I replied. "I love your company so much +that I cannot bear the thought of your departure." + +As quietly as one could think, he had blown out the light, and I heard +him rush away into the darkness. Had I hesitated a moment I should have +lost him, but a ray of moonlight having penetrated the place, I was able +to follow his movements. I caught him by the arm and held him fast. + +"Unhand me, or you shall die!" he cried. + +I held him at arm's length and, although he was an old man, I shook him, +not so much as to hurt him, but enough to make him feel that he was not +in the hands of a maid of eighteen. + +"Do you not fear me?" he cried. "Do you not know that even now I hear the +footsteps of the dead?" + +"I do not fear you," I said, "but you fear me. Come, Master Elijah +Pycroft, who hath been dead and is come to life again, lead me to the +room where last night you received the woman called Constance." + +He stood still, but I felt his body trembling. + +"If you will not," I went on, "I shall begin to threaten. And, mark you, +although you pretend to pity me as an ignorant boy, I will perform my +threats." + +"Ay, and what can you do?" he snarled. "In a minute from now the +hell-hags which I have summoned from afar will be here, and then--ha, +ha!" + +"Before they can come I will e'en drag you through the Pycroft woods," I +cried; "ay, and I will drag you to Folkestone town, and then, methinks, +we shall see gay doings, Master Pycroft." + +I meant what I said, for although I desired much to have quiet speech +with him, he had angered me by his obstinacy and his threats. I think he +felt this, too, for he said sullenly-- + +"It shall e'en be as you say." + +"Then light your lamp again, Master Pycroft, or Father Solomon, whatever +you may be pleased to call yourself," I said. + +A minute later the lamp shone again, and then he ascended a broad +stairway, I keeping close at his heels and ready for anything he might +attempt to do. But he walked straight on. I think by this time he also +had become interested to know more about the venturesome lad, whom he +had not succeeded in frightening, and who had dared to hint that Elijah +Pycroft had never died as had been given out to the world. Be that as it +may, he uttered neither snarl nor threat as we threaded the long +corridor through which he led me, and ere long we had entered the room +of which I had taken such note the night before. + +A candle still burnt here, which threw a ghostly light on the walls. I +detected a strange odour coming from the fireplace, which, as I +imagined, arose from the pot I had seen him put on the fire. + +I closed the door behind me, and looked quickly around me. My nerves had +now settled down to their normal experience, and, although I knew not +why, I was enjoying the situation more than I can say. I knew, however, +that I had need of all my wits, and that I must use great caution if I +would obtain that for which I had set out. + +The added light of the lamp to the candle made the room bright, and, +noting that curtains hung by the window, I drew them across it whole the +old man gazed at me in wonder. + +"I wonder that one so old and wise as you does not exercise more +caution," I said quietly. + +For a minute neither of us did aught but gaze at each other. He +doubtless trying to recall some fact which might give him some clue to +my identity and tell him why I had dared to come hither, while I noted +his every feature, and wondered at the strange life he led. + +He was clothed in a long loose flannel gown which hung from his +shoulders to his feet, and which was confined to his waist by a cord. +Altogether it was a kind of monkish attire. On his feet were shoes made +of cloth, the which enabled him to walk almost noiselessly. He had never +been a tall man, and now that age had somewhat diminished his form and +his head had sunk low into his shoulders, he appeared what he really +was, a shrivelled up old man, though hale and hearty withal. + +Presently I thought he listened keenly, as though he expected the +approach of some one, and once I thought he seemed on the point of +crying out. + +"I think it will be well to forget all about the witches and powers of +darkness," I said quietly. "I can assure you they will not come. Rather +let us talk quietly together." + +I longed to know what was in his mind, but his face became blank as I +spoke, so that I could read nothing. + +"Well, ask your question," he said; "it will not be long now." + +"Very well," I replied, "I will ensure our being undisturbed." + +I had noticed an old iron bolt in the door, also a stout staple driven +into the doorpost. I therefore quietly bolted the door. + +"There," I said, "if the witches come it will take them time to get in." + +He seemed more than ever discomfited at my coolness. He had been so long +undisturbed that he seemed to wonder at any one daring to come to him in +such a way. + +"Well, what do you want to know?" he said helplessly. Then he added, +"But let me tell you this: I know nothing." + +"Who is this woman called Constance?" I asked. + +At this his face became relieved. "Ha! ha!" he cried. "A lover, eh? He +traced the fair Constance hither, and now his love makes him so brave +that he dares to meet the ghost of Pycroft. But Constance is not for +you, lad. She hath her duties as a wife--eh, a wife!" + +"Wife or maid, who is she?" + +"How do I know? I who--who----" here he relapsed into silence. + +"But you will know before I leave this room," I made answer. "Also, you +will tell me other things." + +"What other things?" + +"Among them, why you live here, and what you hide here." + +"And if I will not tell you?" + +"There is an old adage that a wizard is ten times worse than a witch, +and many a witch hath died during these last twenty years. When King +Charles comes to England it will be easy to prove that an old man at +Pycroft Hall hath a familiar spirit." + +"King Charles!" he cried, and his old eyes sparkled. "Am I afraid of +King Charles? I will claim a secret audience with King Charles, and in +two short minutes King Charles will obey me like a child." + +"Obey you?" + +"Ay, obey me. Now, then, do your worst. Fool that I was to be duped by a +puling boy like thee, but since I have been a fool, I will e'en pay for +it. Thou canst tell thy story--ay, thou canst drag me to Folkestone +town. Well, what then? Suppose the ignorant fools which inhabit this +countryside cry out for my death? Well, listen--I am Elijah Pycroft--a +gentleman, and I can claim to have an ear of the king. And then it will +be even as I say. Even King Charles will do the will of old Elijah +Pycroft." + +He had cast aside all his claims to the supernatural, and had become the +clever scheming old man. + +"I know what you mean," I replied quietly, "But the thing by which you +think to obtain the mastery over the new king doth not exist." + +He started to his feet like a man bereft of his senses. + +"Doth not exist? What do you mean?" + +"Oh, I have seen the mother of Lucy Walters," I replied. + +"Thou hast seen----!" he stopped suddenly, his deep-set eyes darting +angry glances at me and his body trembling with passion. + +"Ay, I have seen her; but it is no use. Do you think that Charles Stuart +would ever wed such as she?" + +"But he did, he did!" he cried, carried away by his passion. "And what +is more, I have proof of it--and----" Again he ceased speaking suddenly. +I saw that he had said more than he intended. Now this was the point to +which I had aimed to bring him, and I tried to take him further. + +"A vain boast," I said. "Where is it, if it exists?" + +"Where you will never see it. But stay, tell me who you are? By what +means did you obtain knowledge of these things?" + +"I have seen a man having a wondrous likeness to Sir Charles Denman," I +replied, drawing a bow at a venture. + +"Ay, and he sent his pretty Constance to me. He thought to befool me +with his ill-thought-out plans--me who learnt wisdom before he was born. +Ay, and you saw the pretty Constance too, did you? But she hath told you +naught, no--she hath told you naught. How could she? He did not know, +she did not know, and you, you do not know." + +He laughed like a man in great glee; nevertheless I saw that his eyes +were full of fear. Twenty years before he would have been a strong +resolute man, whom it would have been difficult to bend, but now age had +dimmed his powers and made him incapable of grasping wide issues. + +"If you know where it is--tell me," I said, making a false step, as I +knew before the words had escaped my lips. + +"Ah, now I see why you have come! Ha, ha! What fools men are! You think +crowns are played for with plans no weightier than boys' dice, do you? +Oh, I know what I know." + +"So do I," I said, trying to bluff him. + +"And what do you know?" he questioned eagerly. + +"Since you are so chary of imparting knowledge, so will I be," I said +quietly. "Doubtless you are an old player, Master Pycroft, therefore you +know it takes two to make a game. Besides, great enterprises are +dangerous when they are taken alone." + +"Ah, like Sir Charles, you would go into partnership with me. And I +laugh at him, laugh at him! Oh, I have more at stake than you know, +young master. Therefore think you I make terms with a nameless boy?" + +"I think you will," I replied. + +Again he stared at me incredulously. I could see that he was wondering +who I was and how much I knew. + +"My armour is invulnerable," he cried, "invulnerable, I tell you. You +may do your worst, but I can gain the ear of the king, and +then--pouf!--what can you do?" + +"In two days the king may land at Dover," I replied. "What is to hinder +me from going to the king, and saying to him, 'Sire, an old man who +lives at Pycroft professes to have proof that you married Lucy Walters: +by this means he hopes to have power over you.' What do you think the +king will say? What will he do?" + +His eyes burned with mad anger, but he saw that I was on guard; he saw, +too, that I was young and lithe and strong. + +"But you would not do this?" he cried. + +"Why not?" I asked quietly. + +"But what could he do?" he asked almost helplessly. + +"That depends," I replied. "If the thing is true, he will take summary +measures with Master Elijah Pycroft. He would know that the proof of +such an event would throw the country into civil war. Lucy Walters' son +lives at Paris, and if the marriage can be proved he is the next heir to +the English throne. But what would that mean? You know, Father Solomon. +Besides, think you that James, Duke of York, would be idle? Then let us +suppose the thing is not true. Do you think Charles Stuart would take no +steps to punish the man who gave birth to such a lie?" + +He sat with his chin resting on his chest for some time without +speaking. Occasionally he would take a furtive glance at me, and again +he seemed to be trying to understand the bearings of what I had said. + +"Would you do this?" he asked again presently. + +"When one can do a thing, there is always a danger that he will," I +replied. + +Again he gave me a searching glance, and again he seemed to be trying to +see his way through a difficulty. + +"Tell me what interest you have in all this?" he said presently. + +"Oh, I am a young blood on the look-out for adventures," I replied. + +He saw that I had not answered him fully, and it was not difficult to +believe that he suspected me of having an interest in the matter which I +had not revealed to him. After all, a man would not come to him in such +a way as I had come without sufficient reason, and it was not likely +that he would reveal to me a valuable secret simply because I had asked +for it. On the other hand, he had seen that I was not to be frightened +easily, nor to be put off with a weak excuse. I had done what others had +not dared to do. I had entered a house of evil omen at a time when +others would not dare to approach it. For although through my father's +training I had been able to make light of the stories I had heard, there +can be no doubt that tales such as I have told about Pycroft were +believed by both gentle and simple alike. More than one house in England +was tenantless at this time because of its ill fame, and tales of the +appearances of the departed dead were believed in by both clergy and +people alike. Such Catholic priests as were in England taught people to +believe in such things, while even the Puritan and Presbyterian clergy +gave credence to belief in the power of the devil and his emissaries. +For years Pycroft Hall had been neglected and avoided; and thus it was +no light matter that I had dared to try and penetrate its secrets, and I +doubt not that the old man weighed these matters well, as he furtively +glanced at me from beneath his overhanging brows and shaggy eyebrows. + +At last he seemed to have made up his mind to something. He rose +suddenly to his feet, gazed furtively around the room as if he even +suspected that some one might be near, and then came up close to me. + +"Let us understand each other, young master," he said. + +"That is well," I replied, as I waited for him to proceed. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON + + +"I am not sure," he said, "that you are not a youth worth considering. I +am not sure, I say. There are not six people in England who know my +secret, not one who knows it fully; but among those who do there is not +one that I would go hand in glove with. But you may be of a different +order. You may be, but I have not made up my mind. It may be," and he +looked furtively around him again, "it may be that I shall make short +work of you, and that your father and mother, if you possess them, may +have to mourn the untimely loss of a promising son." + +I laughed quietly, as though I were amused, but as I did so I had a +sense of uneasiness as to what was in his mind. + +"Oh, you laugh, do you?" he snarled; "but wait a little, young master, +and you will see that you have nothing to laugh at. Not that you are not +a youth of courage. I do not deny that. Nay, more: for one so young you +have some sense. I saw that at the start, else you would not be alive +now." + +Again I laughed; partly because the laugh seemed natural, and partly +because I was anxious to impress him with the fact that I had no fear of +him. + +"I tell you the truth," he cried angrily, "and I bid you not to provoke +me too far, for I am somewhat short of temper. There is more than one +who has dared to brave me here, and have never been heard of again. +What, you defy me! Look. If I put this handful of dust," and he took a +small packet from a drawer which contained perhaps an ounce of +brown-coloured powder, "I say, if I put this handful of dust in that +pot, you would in three minutes be asleep--asleep, ay, with a sleep like +unto death. And then what would your swords and pistols avail, my young +bantam?" + +"Methinks if I fell asleep so would you," I replied, "so we should sleep +together, Father Solomon, and perchance I might awake as soon as you." + +"But think you that I have not other potions, potions which would resist +the action of the fumes which would arise from the pot?" + +"Possibly; but let me tell you this, Father Solomon: before the sleep +mastered me I would give good account of you." + +I spoke like a man deadly in earnest, as in truth I was, for his words +had made me feel that my position might be more serious than I had +imagined. My earnestness impressed him too, for he turned somewhat +hurriedly to me and said-- + +"Have I not said that you may be a youth worth considering? But, look +you, before we go further into this matter I must know with assurance +how we stand. For, let me tell you this: if you play the game which is +in your mind it will not be for boys' stakes. Neither will it be a game +easy to play." + +At this I was silent, for I did not wish to use a word which might give +him the mastery over me. + +"And so, young master, before I tell you the things you are longing to +know, I must first know who you are, how you came to know of me, how you +fell in with Lucy Walters' mother, and how much you know of the matter +which brings you here." + +"If I told you these things you would be but little wiser," I replied; +"besides, I may not tell them till I know who you are, and whether it is +worth my while." + +"How old are you?" + +"But twenty-three." + +"You might be older than that," and I saw a twinkle in his eye. "Let me +speak plainly, young master. It is long since I met a youth of +twenty-three with so much sense." + +There was so much of wheedling in his voice that I was put on my guard +again. What he had failed to do by threats he would accomplish by +flattery. + +"One need not be young to be a fool," I replied. + +He darted another angry glance at me, and then seemed on the point of +uttering a savage threat. But he mastered this desire, and with a shrug +of his shoulders he said-- + +"Bah! we are playing at see-saw. Let me understand. You came to me with +a desire to know certain things. You would know first more of the woman +whom you name Constance, then you would know more of the man who sent +her here. That springs from young blood and a boy's heart. But that is +not all. There is the man's brain as well as the boy's heart to be +considered. Let me think of that. You, like others, have heard the story +of the king's marriage, but, unlike others, you have been able to locate +the place where the secret is kept. You desire to possess it. Why? +Because, like a thousand others, you desire to have power over the king. +How came you to find out this place? What is the purpose you have in +your mind? You will not tell me. Nevertheless I shall find out. What is +your name? Well, for the present one name will do as well as another. So +far so good. Now, then, for the other side. Here am I. Who am I? Ah, who +knows? Elijah Pycroft once lived here. Some say he died and was buried. +But was he? If he was, who am I? Am I Elijah Pycroft come to life again? +For years this old house hath been shunned as though it were, the house +of pestilence. Why? Witches' revels are held here, dark deeds are done +here. Spirits of darkness haunt this place. But then men have come here +through the day and found nought. What then becomes of the old man who +haunts it through the night? Who is he? Who is he? Ha, ha! Thou art a +bold youth to come here. But, come, let us to business. Thou art a brave +youth, and thou art not without a smattering of wit. Still thou art but +a boy with a boy's rattlepate." + +He seemed to be talking to himself as much as to me during the latter +part of his soliloquy. Evidently he was simply thinking aloud, and +trying to understand our relations more clearly. + +"Now, then," he went on presently, "you want me to give you certain +information, and you want to put your hand upon that which might change +the history of the nation. I have given you credit for some wit, young +master, but do you think I am such a fool as to tell all this to a +nameless boy, because he dared to break in upon my privacy?" + +"Well, what would you, Master Pycroft?" said I, for I saw that he had +sense on his side. If a bargain was to be made it could not be all on +one side. My work was to learn all I could from him, without placing my +future in his power. + +"I would know this. First, your name and history. Second, the reason +which led you to come hither. And third--nay, that is all. Answer me +those fully, and you will have answered all I wish to know." + +"And if I do?" I responded. "What shall I gain?" + +"That for which you have come," he replied eagerly. + +"How do I know? Suppose I tell you what you ask, and you have sucked the +orange dry--what then? Can I be sure you will tell me what I want to +know? The confidence must be mutual, Master Pycroft." + +"You have called me by name. Therefore what is there to tell you +further?" + +"How do I know that you are Master Pycroft? How do I know that you are +not some other man, one perhaps a thousand times more dangerous?" + +A ghastly pallor came over his face as I spoke. For the first time I had +made him fear me. Rightly or wrongly, it came to me that he was not +Elijah Pycroft at all, but a man who greatly feared his name becoming +known. + +"If I am to tell you who I am, tell me who you are," I replied. "If I am +to tell you how I was led to believe that you have in your possession +the king's marriage contract, you must tell me how you got hold of it. +If I am to tell you how I learnt to know anything about the woman you +call Constance, you must tell me what you know of her, ay, and the +reason why the man believed to be Sir Charles Denman hath such power +over her." + +"And if I will not?" + +"Then several courses are open to me. You have told me I have some wit. +Well, I can use that wit. I can find out who the man is who comes to +this room during the night, while during the day he is not to be found +here." + +"Who's to tell you?" + +"Perhaps Father Rousseau, who hath a little church at Boulogne," I made +answer. + +Again the ashy pallor passed across his face, and I saw him tremble. + +"He--he doth not know a word of English--that is--how do you know there +is such a man?" + +I know he would have given much not to have spoken these words, but they +had escaped him while under the influence of the words I had spoken. + +"Enough to say that I do know," I replied, "and moreover, I am not the +only Englishman who can speak the French tongue." + +He saw he had taken the wrong road, and he sought to retrace his steps. + +"Let us understand each other," he repeated. + +"Methinks we are understanding each other with great haste," I replied. +"Mark you, I wish to use no harsh methods, otherwise I could easily make +many things known to King Charles when he lands at Dover." + +"And yet you speak angrily," he cried. "I am an old man, and cannot bear +to have an enmity towards any man. I would live peaceably. Besides, my +heart goes out to you. Let us act as friends. But I cannot tell you what +you want to know without knowing who you are." + +"I will tell you this," I replied, "I seek not to harm you. You have a +secret; that I know, and I can see my way to finding out that secret." + +"But you will not--you must not!" + +There was terror in his voice, terror in his eyes, as he spoke. + +"Look, look; we will act together. I saw you were a youth of courage and +wit the first moment I cast my eyes on you. You are of gentle blood, +too. You would not break a promise--that I know. You would stand by a +bargain, too. Oh, you would, I know you would. Would you not?" + +"If I make a bargain I will stand by it," I replied. "If I make a +promise I will keep it." + +"Even in the face of death?" he replied. + +"A gentleman doth not break a promise because of the fear of death," I +answered. "He will keep to it under all circumstances, unless the man to +whom he hath made it hath forfeited his right to have the promise kept." + +"Ah, then, look here, look at me, straight in the eyes--that's it! If I +tell you what you wish to know you will promise me this. First, you will +not seek to discover anything more about me. You understand that? You +will not try and find out who I am, where I spend my days or my nights. +You will say nothing about me to man, woman, nor child. If you hear +aught at any time or at any place of the old man who hath been seen +under strange circumstances at Pycroft, you will say nought, nor show by +sign of any sort that you have ever heard or seen him." + +"Well, go on," I replied, as he kept his eyes on me, and waited as if +for an answer, "Tell me the other things you wish me to promise." + +"You must also promise me that whatever advantage can be gained by what +I shall tell you shall be shared by me. Look you, I have the marriage +contract--that is, I know where it is. It is all in order. It has the +signatures of Charles Stuart, of--of--well, the woman who was called +Lucy Walters, and that of the priest whose name you mentioned. I know +where it is, and besides me there is no other who knows it. You must not +ask how I obtained it. But I know. I know where I put it. It is in a +safe place. But if I tell you, you must be my friend. In the time to +come I shall need a friend such as you, with a quick brain and a strong +arm. You know French, you say?" + +"Yes, I know it enough to speak, and to understand the speech of +others." + +"That is well. You will promise these two things?" + +"Let us be clear," I made answer, for I knew that he had not been +speaking idle words. I could see by the way his hands trembled, and by +the eager gleam in his eyes, that he was deeply in earnest. "You wish me +to promise not to learn the secret of your life, to seek to know nothing +more about you than I know now?" + +"Yes, yes. Nothing, nothing. That is vital." + +"And, second, you wish me to promise that whatever advantage may be +gained by what I shall find out shall be shared by you?" + +"Yes, you state it clearly." + +"The first I might promise, but not the second." + +"Why?" + +"Because you could not share in that which I desire. I desire neither +favour nor position at the hands of the king--only justice. This could +not affect you. Stay! if I gain my desire, you should never want a home +or a friend." + +"Neither favour nor position!" he said like a man in astonishment. "A +secret like that, and demand neither riches nor honour!" + +"Neither," I replied. + +"Then what would you do with your power?" + +"Justice," I replied. + +"You would seek to place the--the boy on the throne?" + +"If he is the king's lawful son, yes, when his father dies." + +He grasped my hand eagerly. + +"But you would do nothing without consulting me first. You must promise +that." + +"But I might not abide by your counsels." + +"Oh, I fear not that. If you come to me before you take action--all will +be well. You will see the wisdom of my words." + +"Yes, I would promise that," I said slowly, for the full meaning of what +I was saying was not clear to me. + +"That is well--that is well!" + +He spoke like a man from whose shoulders a burden had rolled, and I +judged that he was mightily pleased. + +"But remember," I said, "in return you promise to tell me what you know +of the woman Constance who came to you here last night, and you also +promise to place in my hands the marriage contract of the king with Lucy +Walters." + +"That is, I will take you to the place where it is. I will share with +you this secret. And in return you will seek to do justice, justice! And +you will do nothing without consulting me. You will also be my friend, +and will seek to shelter me. And you are a gentleman. You speak only the +truth, and you keep your promises." + +The whole question had been settled so easily that I wondered at my good +fortune. I had told the man nothing, and yet he had promised to give me +the information I coveted. In truth, so easily was my work accomplished +that I feared lest I had pledged myself more fully than I realized. And +yet all seemed straightforward. I had touched the old man's fear, and he +had yielded. His great dread was that I should discover his secret, the +secret of his name and identity. Well, what were his name and identity +to me? Then I had promised to befriend him. That was more serious. It +might be that in making this promise I had undertaken more than I knew. +And yet all might be simple. I believed that he was afraid to make use +of the secret he guarded, and that he was eager to obtain the services +of some one like myself. Besides, nothing could be obtained without +risk, and I had made my promise. + +He moved the pot from the fire, and then threw some dry wood upon the +smouldering embers. + +"The night is cold, although summer is approaching fast," he said. +"Besides, it is well for us to be warm and comfortable. You will drink +wine with me. No? Ah, you fear. You are cautious for one so young, but +it is well. We shall need caution as well as courage. There, the fire +flames. Draw up that chair, good youth, and let us talk in a friendly +way. Our skirmish is over, and we have arranged a truce. Nay, more than +that, we have agreed to fight on the same side, and I am content. Do you +know that for three days following I have dreamt that I shall have a +youth, brave and strong and wise, like you, who shall be my friend? +Well, I took every precaution before taking you into my confidence, but +now I believe you are the fulfilment of my dream. But it will be easier +for us to talk if we each have a name. You can call me Father Solomon; +what may I call you?" + +"You may call me Master Roland," I made answer. + +"Master Roland. Ah, it sounds well. It brings to me memories of great +courage, great wisdom, and great fidelity. Master Roland; but Master +Roland what?" + +"That is enough. Master Roland and nothing else." + +"Ah, very good. A sagacious youth. Ha, ha!" + +His tone had changed. He evidently desired to be friends; he even +regarded me with an air that was almost affectionate. I could have sworn +that my presence was in accord with his strongest desires. + +He sat on one side of the fire, and I on the other--he with his head +sunk between his shoulders, and his long beard almost resting on his +knees; I alert and watchful, for as yet I had no confidence in him. +Around the walls of the room were strange mystic charts, while on the +table were grinning skulls and much peculiar apparatus, of the meaning +of which I knew nothing. + +"I will e'en drink some water of life," he said, filling a goblet from a +bottle which stood on a shelf. "Ah, it warms my blood and cheers my +brains! That is well. Now I will tell you the things you desire to +know." + +He gave me a keen furtive glance as he spoke, but I simply nodded my +head and waited for him to proceed. + +"You would know more of the fair Constance," he said. "That is natural. +She is fair of face, and hath a sweet voice; but, Master Roland, take my +advice and seek not her company. You cannot help her. She is in danger +of her life, and a price is set upon her head!" + +"What hath she done?" I asked. + +"Many things. She is the daughter of Master John Leslie, who is the +bosom friend of Master Hugh Peters, who was friend and chaplain of +Oliver Cromwell. Master John Leslie hated the late king more than any +man in the kingdom, and took a principal part in the beheading of +Charles. He is a great Independent, Master Roland, and he gave his +daughter in marriage to Sir Charles Denman, a man old enough to be her +father, but who is also a great Independent, and who fears as much as he +hates the thought of the coming of Charles II." + +He hesitated here, and looked towards me as if he expected me to speak, +but I held my peace, for I knew he was only at the beginning of his +story. + +"Do you not know the rest?" he asked. + +"No," I replied, "I know nothing." + +He heaved a sigh like one well satisfied. "Ah, thou art a simple youth, +after all," he said; "thou knowest nought of what hath been taking +place." + +"Well, tell me," I said sharply, for I grew impatient at his slowness. + +"Oh yes, I will tell thee. It is a part of the bargain, and I will tell +thee. When it was known that General Monk seemed to favour the coming of +the new king, Master Leslie, Sir Charles Denman, and his wife conceived +a scheme for the murdering of Monk. They believed they would be doing +good service. They knew that if Charles came back, in spite of all the +promises he might make, it would go hard with those who took part in the +death of the new king's father. The question was, who was to do the +deed? The presence of Master Leslie or Sir Charles Denman, men known to +hate the royalty, would destroy any chance of success. So they settled +upon the wife of Sir Charles, whose person was unknown either to Monk or +his retainers. Well, the plan was carried out, Master Roland; that is, +the attempt was made. The woman, never dreaming of disobeying her +husband and also mad with fear as to what should take place if Charles +Stuart came back, attempted the deed. If Monk was killed, Lambert would +have power--you follow, Master Roland? Oh, it was not a bad plan, and +had it succeeded--well, methinks there would not be at this moment a +gaping crowd waiting to welcome another Stuart. But it did not +succeed--that is, not fully. Mark you, she did succeed in reaching the +room where Monk lay asleep. She stabbed young James Carew, who acted as +Monk's secretary, ay, and so badly that he hath not yet recovered; but +Monk awoke before she was able to harm him much. Oh, but she made a +desperate fight. She wounded Monk in the arm, and fled. Moreover, so +cleverly had she arranged everything that she managed to escape, and +although every attempt hath been made, she hath not yet been captured." + +"But how dare she ride abroad?" I cried. + +"That woman would dare anything," cried the old man. "Besides, Monk +described a woman different from the beautiful Constance. You see, she +had taken steps to alter her appearance before she attempted the deed. +Nevertheless, the thing hath been traced to her. Master John Leslie is +even now in disgrace, while spies be everywhere trying to track down +Sir Charles Denman and his wife. Not that guilt hath been proved against +Sir Charles on that count, nevertheless his life is not worth ten +groats." + +"But how dare he ride to the _Barley Sheaf_ while it was yet daylight?" +I cried. "I saw him myself." + +"Sir Charles hath many friends; besides, what kind of man did you see?" + +"A tall strong man with an iron-grey beard and a grey ashen countenance; +one who speaks with a rough harsh voice." + +"Sir Charles hath a yellow beard, brown hair, and hath a sweet mellow +voice," he replied. "Ay, but he is cleverer than any play-actor in +London. Besides, he knows that just now the search is somewhat lax, +seeing that every one is at Dover waiting to welcome the new King." + +"Then--then----" + +"Ah, more I may not tell you. Ay, and seek to know no more, Master +Roland. The chase cannot last long: she will be taken, and then God have +mercy on her!" + +"And Sir Charles?" + +A cloud crossed his face, and that harsh, cruel look which I had seen in +his eyes when first we met came back. + +"Who knows?" he snarled. "Who knows, if he----but enough of that, Master +Roland. There is something of more importance. There is that for which +you came hither; your fate, and perchance mine, depend on that." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE SNARE OF THE FOWLER + + +"You want the king's marriage contract," he said presently; "you desire +the proof that Charles Stuart was married to Lucy Walters, and thus be +able to prove that the boy who is now with the king's mother is the next +heir to the English throne?" + +I nodded my head in the affirmative, all the time watching the old man's +eyes, into which a cunning sinister expression had come. + +"It is a great thing, a great thing," he cackled. "Fancy, the Duke of +York would give his fingers to get hold of it. And yet only you and I +have the secret of it." + +"Only you at present," I urged. + +"Ah, yes, only I, only I; but I need you, and you shall know. Ha! ha!" +and he laughed like a man tickled. "But we must bide our time," he +continued presently. + +"What do you mean?" I asked. + +"It is no use removing it from its present hiding-place until the proper +time," he said. "Suppose you had it in your hand now. What would you do +with it? Would you go to the king, and say, 'Look, here is the marriage +contract between you and Lucy Walters'? Such would be the act of a fool. +And you are not a fool--no, you are not a fool!" + +"But I must know where it is," I cried, "and I must be assured that the +thing is not a hoax." + +"Ay, that you shall," he replied; "come with me." + +He rose, took a candle in his hand, and made his way towards the door. + +"Whither?" I asked. + +"To the hiding-place," was his answer, and he gazed anxiously around the +room. + +Even in those days I possessed a fair amount of caution, and thus, while +I unbolted the door, I kept close to him, so that at no moment should he +be able to betray me. + +Outside the door, he stopped and listened. Even in that lonely place and +at that awesome hour, he seemed apprehensive lest some one should spy +upon our actions. But he had no need to fear. All was silent as death. +The house was empty, and every sound that we made echoed and re-echoed +through the empty chambers. + +"All is well," he said as if to himself, and then he led the way down a +flight of stairs which I had not hitherto noticed. Presently we came to +a dark cellar, which I saw was hewn out of the rock. We were now among +the foundations of the house, and my heart beat fast at the thought that +I was near placing my hand upon the precious document, which my father +declared would make my fortune. + +"Who could find us here, Master Roland?" he cackled again; "not one in +fifty. But Old Solomon is wise, and he does not live at Pycroft Hall for +nought." + +Whereupon he held the candle close to the floor, as if searching for +something. + +"Do you see anything?" he asked. + +"Nothing," I replied. + +"Think you there is aught beneath here?" + +"Beneath here? No, we are already in the bowels of the earth." + +"Ah, that is good!" and again he cackled like a man well pleased with +himself. + +Presently I saw him pressing the ground hard with his heel, and then, as +if by magic, there opened close by my feet a dark aperture. + +"Descend," he cried, "descend!" + +"We will go together, Father Solomon," I made answer. + +"Ah, you do not trust me. A good youth, a cautious youth." + +Still holding the candle in one hand, he came close to the dark hole in +the ground, from which came a musty ill-smelling air, and then he put +his left foot into the hole, while I held his right arm. + +"That is well," he said, and then I saw the rungs of a ladder. + +One, two, three, four steps he went down, until I was almost dragged +into the darkness in my endeavour to hold him fast. + +"Come, come, Master Roland; but mind, it needs a brave heart." + +I confess it here, I hesitated before following. How it may appear to +those who read this I know not, but at that moment I seemed to be in a +ghastly dream. Everything had become unreal to me save the shadow of a +great terror. The old man, with his head sunk between his shoulders, was +such a creature as only comes to one in a nightmare; the king's marriage +contract existed only in the wild imaginings of foolish men. A thousand +dangers suggested themselves, nameless dangers, and therefore all the +more terrible, and try as I might I could not keep from trembling. + +"Afraid, Master Roland, eh? Ay, and well thou mayst be, for this hole is +full of lost spirits. Hark! do you not hear them?" + +In the excited state of my imagination I fancied I heard distant wails, +and I felt my blood run cold. + +"And yet only yesternight the fair Constance took this road, and she was +not afraid." + +He said this tauntingly, which caused anger to take the place of fear. I +still held his right arm, the hand of which grasped one of the staves of +the ladder, and his words made my grasp the tighter. + +"I will come with you, Father Solomon," I said; "but mind, if you betray +me, I will send you to hell with all your sins upon your head." + +With that I placed my foot upon the ladder, but in so doing I had to +relax my hold upon him. I heard him cackling to himself while he went +farther and still farther into the darkness. + +I had not descended more than six steps before I heard a noise above me, +and then I knew that the trap door which had lifted was closed again, +and that in all probability the secret of its opening was only known to +the man whose breath could be distinctly heard just beneath me. + +As may be imagined, I lost no time in going down the ladder, and the +moment my feet touched the ground I grasped the old man's arm again. + +"Ha, ha!" he laughed. "This is rare sport, eh? Do you know where you +are? Twill be a fine tale to tell Charles. Ten fathoms underneath the +foundations of Pycroft Hall, with Father Solomon! Do you think you'll +ever see daylight again, Master Roland?" + +"If I do not you will not," I replied; and then I looked around me and +found myself in a narrow tunnel, which perchance was three feet wide and +high enough for a man of short stature to stand upright. + +"Good boy, courageous boy, well he deserves to get what he seeks! But +oh, he will see rare sport before he puts his hand upon the king's +marriage contract." + +"Where is it?" I asked, still holding his right arm. + +"I must be free, and you must follow me." + +"No," I replied. "Whither you go I will go. And I shall not loose my +hold upon you till I see daylight." + +He looked at me savagely, and lifted his left hand, in which he held a +candlestick, as if to strike me. Then the angry looked passed away, and +I saw the cunning leer come in his eyes again. + +"A good boy, a brave boy," he said coaxingly. "Ah, we are friends. I +cannot do without him, neither can he do without me. Youth and age, +strength and wisdom together, what can withstand it?" + +He led the way along the tunnel, which I followed, still holding him +fast. How far we went I could not calculate, for although the time +seemed long, it might only in reality have been short. At length, +however, we came to a broad place, such as I have been told miners make +underground when digging for mineral. + +"The time and the place, Master Roland," he said; "now let us search." + +He held up the candle, and I saw that all around me were dark roads +leading from the cavern where we stood. Whither they went I knew not. I +seemed like a man standing on a place where many cross roads met, only +we were in the bowels of the earth, and the roads seemed to lead only +into greater darkness. + +"A grand place to bury a secret, eh? Anything would be safe here, eh? +But there is nothing hidden that shall not be revealed. There is nothing +done in silence but shall be proclaimed on the housetops." + +He placed the candle in my hand, and then began to peer cautiously +around the sides of the cavern. + +"Ah!" he said at length. "You wanted to see, and you shall see. Lucy +married Prince Charles--no, King Charles--and Lucy gave the contract to +the priest, and the priest gave it to old Father Solomon, and old +Solomon waited--waited till his dream should be fulfilled. Do you know +this place, Master Roland? Once upon a time miners digged here for gold. +Oh, it was ages ago. Whoever dreamed of gold being found five miles from +Folkestone? They dug, and dug, and dug! They are dead, but their work +lives. Fancy those old men digging here ages ago. But they left a grand +hiding-place. Only one man knows the secret of these caverns. I, old +Solomon. The man who is left alone here never sees the light again. Ha, +ha! But it is a fine place to die!" + +Presently he seemed to have discovered the place he sought, and then he +took the candle from my hand. I saw a dark hole in the side of the +cavern, into which he put his hand, and from which he drew a black box. + +"You wanted to see it, and you shall see it," he said. Then he pressed a +spring in the box, and the lid flew open. + +"Read! Read!" he cried. + +I saw a piece of parchment which was emblazoned with a rude tracing of +the Lion and the Unicorn. This he took, and with trembling fingers +unfolded it. + +"Read! Read!" he cried again. + +It was written in French, but in such a crude fashion as to make it +difficult to read. But I saw these words--"Marriage Contract between +Charles Stuart, King of England and Scotland, and Lucy Walters, of Ros +Martat, in the County of Pembroke, Wales, daughter of Richard Walters." +After this there were many lines which seemed to be meaningless, but at +the bottom of the page I saw writing by other hands. I saw the words-- + +"Charles Stuart, By the Grace of God King of England and Scotland. + +"Lucy Walters. + +"Pierre Rousseau. + +"François Abelard." + +I saw, too, that Pierre Rousseau was stated to be a priest of the Roman +Catholic Church who had performed the sacrament of marriage, and that +François Abelard, a brother of the Benedictine Order, had witnessed +thereto. + +"There, you have seen it; now let me put it away." + +"No," I replied, "let me read it again; I would commit the writing to +memory." + +He paid no heed to me, however, and before I well knew what he was doing +he had struck the paper from my hands. The box closed with a snap, and +he placed it in its hiding-place again. + +"You have seen," he cried. "Oh, it is rare fun. Now, then, you must +swear to what I dictate, or you will never again see the light of the +sun." + +"Swear what?" I cried, for I felt angry with myself for having allowed +him to put the thing back into its hiding-place. + +"You must swear that you will obey me in all that appertains to this." + +"That was not in our bargain," I cried. + +"But it must be," he cried. "Swear, or you die." + +"No," I said, "I will not. And do not think to frighten me. I will keep +to my bargain faithfully, but if you in aught do fail on your part, then +will I come hither alone, and I will act without you." + +"Ah!" he cried, and there was a fearsome look in his eyes. "You defy me, +eh?" + +"Yes, I defy you!" I cried, for the sight of the parchment had set my +blood on fire. + +We had moved away a few steps from the place where he had put the black +box, but I kept my eye on the spot, so that I might know it again. + +"Ah, we must be friends," he said wheedlingly. "Come, my son, I have +more to tell you." + +I followed him a few steps, and then again I looked back over my +shoulder to mark the place where the precious document was hidden; but +this, as will be seen, led to my undoing, for no sooner did he note my +action than with a sudden wrench he leapt from me, and blowing out the +candle he left me in utter darkness. + +I stretched out my hands to grasp him, but he was gone. I stopped and +listened to catch the sound of his retreating footsteps, but could hear +nothing to guide me, for the place seemed to be full of the sound of +footsteps, now coming from one direction, and now from another. +Moreover, he wore cloth-soled shoes, which made but little noise, so +that I was utterly unable to locate him. Presently I thought I heard him +cackling, as I had heard him more than once before when he was well +pleased with himself. Without an instant's delay I rushed to the spot +from whence I thought the sound came, but only to strike my head with a +terrible thud against the rocky side of the cavern. + +What happened after that I do not know. I have a vague remembrance of +falling to the ground, and then rising and staggering away in the +darkness, but whether this was only fancy or fact it is not for me to +say, seeing that nothing was clear to me. + +Presently, when I awoke to consciousness, I found myself lying in the +darkness. Not a ray of light came to me anywhere, neither did I possess +any means of kindling one. My head ached, and my whole body was racked +with pain. How long I had lain there I knew not, neither was I able to +calculate. All I knew was that I was in as sad a plight as any man could +be. But I determined not to give up hope. If there was a way into this +place there must also be a way out, and so I set to work to try and find +out my whereabouts. I was not long before I touched the side of the +cavern, close to which I groped until I came to an opening. + +"This will lead back to the house," I reflected, and buoyed up with this +hope, and keeping my hand by the side of the tunnel, I followed its +windings for some distance, only to come to a sudden stop, for I found +that the place ended here. I therefore returned again, determining to +enter each level in turn until I should again find my way back to the +man whose wits had been keener than my own. + +The second tunnel was shorter than the first, and ended in the same way, +so again I returned to the large cavern, and keeping ever to the right +hand, so as not to enter any one of them more than once, I again groped +along in the darkness. + +Even then I tried to find the place into which the old man had put the +black box, but in this I was unsuccessful. Had I a light, I felt sure I +could have found it, for I had marked the place carefully; but, as I +have said, I was in utter darkness, neither had I means of obtaining +light. + +After a time I was wellnigh despairing, and I felt sure that old Solomon +intended the place to be my grave. The more I tried to find my way out, +the more confused I became. Still I was young and strong, and youth does +not for long give way to hopelessness. + +Of the thoughts which passed through my mind, or of the plans I made, as +well as of the schemes of vengeance I meditated upon I will not speak, +for while they were doubtless natural, they had so little of sense in +them that they are not worth recording. Only one plan, indeed, promised +aught, and that was to lie still until old Solomon came to seek me, as I +felt sure his curiosity would compel him to do. But that was given up, +for, as I reflected, it would be terrible to lie there in the cold and +in the darkness; besides, he would doubtless wait until lack of food had +so weakened me that he would be able to work his will on me. + +I therefore continued to examine each level or tunnel in turn, and in +this I had to manifest great care, for there were many pitfalls which +might easily lead to a man's death. How long I remained in the darkness +I know not, neither for that matter do I care to dwell upon the +endeavours I made while there to find my way to the light, for even now, +after the lapse of years, I shudder to think of my sufferings during +that terrible time. For if there is one thing harder than another to +bear, it is to be alone in black darkness such as I was. I have faced +death more than once, I have experienced imprisonment in a noisome +evil-smelling cell, I have had to stand face to face with dread +alternatives; but at no time do I remember such utter despair as I felt +then. And this any man who hath imagination can easily believe. For I +had no other prospect than a slow death amidst darkness and loneliness. +Could I have heard human voice, I do not think I should have minded so +much; but nothing could I hear save the echo of my own sighs, while the +darkness was so great that it could be felt. + +Moreover, I presently grew faint and weak. I needed food sadly, while +even worse than hunger was the thirst that presently gat hold of me. My +body grew stone cold, and yet my throat became parched and burnt. + +"This must be hell," I thought to myself. "I am become like the rich man +in the New Testament--ay, I am worse than he, for I cannot see one afar +off to whom I can cry." + +Presently, however, in spite of my suffering I fell asleep, and when I +awoke I felt better. My head ceased to ache, and although I felt very +weak my tongue had become cool again. + +"Thank God," I cried out in my joy. "O, great Lord, who didst suffer for +the sins of the world, be pleased to help me in my dire distress." + +But no answer came to my prayer: only silence, a great and terrible +silence, filled the place. Nevertheless, my prayer gave me hope. If God +lived, I reflected, I was in His keeping here in the bowels of the earth +as truly as if I was aboveground. This feeling put new heart into me, +and I determined to make another effort. + +I had now no knowledge concerning the levels I had explored, but I kept +on praying for guidance, and ere long I found myself in another tunnel, +although whither it led I no more knew than a child but last night born. + +I could not help reflecting, however, that the air grew purer, and +presently I put my foot in a pool of water. Giving no time to reflection +as to whence this water came, I knelt down and took a long deep draught, +and immediately I felt a new man. A great confidence possessed me, the +hideous time which I had been passing lost much of its terrors, and +while I was still in black darkness, I felt sure I was moving towards +the light. + +I therefore pressed onward, feeling the air grow purer and purer at each +step, and then I fancied that, instead of gazing into black darkness, I +saw a darkness that was grey. I held my hand before me, and thought I +could see my fingers move. This inspired me with still greater hope, +and after a time my hope became a certainty. I could even see the sides +of the tunnel in which I walked. A few minutes later a streak of light, +very small but very distinct, reached me. I realized, moreover, that a +little stream of water trickled along the bed of the tunnel in which I +walked, and ere long I saw what appeared to me to be a small hole which +let in the light. + +At this time my heart filled with a great joy, and in spite of my +weakness I shouted aloud for joy. I bethought me of the psalms which I +had heard the Puritans sing: "_Such as sit in darkness and in the shadow +of death, being bound in affliction and iron; they fell down and there +was none to help; then they cried unto the Lord in their trouble, and He +saved them out of their distress._" + +Never surely did man thank God as I thanked Him then, and when, a little +later, I crept out of the level through a hole scarce big enough for a +man to drag his body through, I could scarce breathe for very joy. I +heard the birds singing, and looking above me I saw the sunlight +piercing the leaves of the trees. Then I think I fainted, for I remember +falling down, while all became dark again. + +When I awoke I found myself lying where I had fallen, and although I was +terribly weak I had still strength enough to look around and take notice +of my surroundings. I saw that the mouth of the level out of which I had +come was closed by a great heap of fallen débris, save for the hole +through which I had passed. It was much overgrown too, and a man might +pass it a hundred times without seeing it. There was another thing which +struck me also. Not a footmark of any sort was to be seen, not a +suggestion that any one had visited the place. Huge heaps of stones and +rocks were around, but they had become overgrown by bushes and trees. +The place seemed far away from human habitation. + +"Father Solomon knows nothing of this entrance," I reflected, "and he +believes that he left me there to die. Well, all the better; the time +may come when I can make use of my knowledge." + +After making careful examination, I rose, and found my way slowly from +the place. I took what I believed was the seaward direction, and after +walking wellnigh a mile through a wood, I saw a cottage among some +fields. It was with much difficulty that I reached it, but I succeeded +at length, and presently saw a peasant woman lighting a fire outside the +cottage door. + +"What's o'clock, good dame?" I asked. + +"Six o' th' mornin'," she made answer. + +"Then perchance you can give me some breakfast," I said. + +"I've nothing but milk and bread," she answered, looking at me +suspiciously. + +"For which I will pay you well," I replied, taking a coin from my +pocket. + +The sight of the money altered her behaviour with wondrous quickness. + +"It's all ready," she replied. "Th' milk is boilin' and the bread be in +the dishes. My man will not be here for a minute or two, but there's no +need for you to wait, young master." + +Hunger made me ravenous, and I gave no thought to others. I doubt not +the bread was black and heavy, but the milk was sweet, and I partook of +it greedily. + +When I had finished it seemed to me as though my strength had come back +to me as if by a miracle. + +"Will ye 'a' more, young master?" + +"Presently, presently;" and I gave her the coin I had promised. + +"Ah, here be my man comin';" and I noticed a farmer's man come up, who +looked at me wonderingly. + +It was at this time that I realized the condition of my clothes. They +were covered with dirt; and catching reflection of my face in a bucket +of water, I saw that it was much bruised and smeared with blood. + +"I will have a wash, good dame," I said, "after which I would like to +talk with you." + +"Ay, and 'ere's water, master," she said; and I washed myself while she +looked on in silence. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE COMING OF THE KING + + +"Servant, sir." The man saluted me as he spoke, and moved a step nearer. + +"Thank you for a good breakfast," I said. "I have been out all night, +and lost my way among the woods." + +"Easy enough to do," he replied, nodding towards the great forest from +which I had come. + +"To whom do they belong?" + +He shook his head. "Pycroft woods," he added presently. + +"And no one lives at Pycroft Hall, I suppose?" + +"No one but the devil." + +"I saw great heaps of stones in the woods." + +"Ay, it is said there was a great mine at one time." + +Beyond this the man could tell me nothing, though I asked him many +questions. I also made inquiries in a roundabout way concerning Pycroft +Hall, but he only shook his head. Evidently he knew nothing of it. I +also asked him concerning the day of the week, and I found that I must +have been full thirty hours alone in the bowels of the earth. I +concluded that old Solomon had not come to seek me, neither did he +believe that I should be able to find my way out. + +After a time I felt sleepy, and the woman having offered me a bed +whereon to rest, I fell into a sleep, from which I did not awake until +past noon. After the dame had given me a meal consisting of boiled bacon +and potatoes, I felt strong enough to walk back to Folkestone, which, +after giving the woman another coin, I did. + +I found that my absence had caused no surprise at the _Barley Sheaf_; +indeed, the news that the king was to land at Dover the next day but one +seemed to drive all other thoughts from their minds. I made many +inquiries, but could hear nothing of either Sir Charles Denman or his +wife. The woman had come mysteriously into my life, and had passed out +of it again just as mysteriously. And yet I thought much of her. I felt +in a way which I cannot explain that my life was linked with hers, and +that some time in the future I should see her again. + +The following morning I had my horse saddled and started for Dover. I +had much company on the way, for, as it seemed to me, the whole +countryside had emptied itself in order to be at Dover to welcome the +new king. When I arrived at Dover town, moreover, I found a great +uproar; in truth, no fair I had ever seen provided such food for sport +and carnival as Dover town provided that day. In the inns and taverns +there was much drinking, while, in the streets, booths and shows were +everywhere in evidence. On every hand the people were shouting and +singing. Every street was festooned with flowers and flags, while it +appeared that every one was glad that the reign of Puritanism was over, +and that they would have a king instead of a parliament to reign over +them. I noticed, too, that in the booths there were plays representing +the downfall of the Puritans, while the great butt of most of the jokes +were those who dressed in the dark sober fashion of the times of Oliver +Cromwell, and quoted psalms with a pious sniffle. + +"God save His Most Gracious Majesty King Charles the Second!" many +cried. + +"Ay, ay," was the response. "We shall have a merry life under the king. +Plenty to drink, plenty to eat, and plenty of fun." + +"Down with the psalm-singing hypocrites!" + +"As though cock-fighting, dog-fighting, and bull-baiting hath not always +been an Englishman's sport." + +"The King loves it, I hear." + +"Ay, and he loves to kiss a pretty girl, too." + +"Well, what's the harm in that?" + +"None at all. He's young and comely, and loves his pleasure as a king +should." + +"It'll go hard with the sour-faced psalm-singers, I hear." + +"Well it ought. Did they not kill the king's father? I hear that at +least five hundred are to be hanged." + +"But what about the Act of Oblivion?" + +"Marry! as though the king will care aught about the Act of Oblivion. +The thing is, the country will be able to enjoy itself." + +"Well it ought. After a man hath been to church once a week he's done +enough religion. After that let him enjoy himself." + +All this and much more I heard as I passed along the streets; in truth, +much of what I saw and heard is not fit to record here, for many of the +people might have just been let out of Bedlam, so little did they seem +to care for what was clean and decent. Moreover, no notice was taken of +these things. There was neither law nor order, while, if some man should +say a word rebuking them for wrong-doing, he was immediately pounced +upon as a sour-faced Puritan. Such was the difference which was already +manifest, even before the new king had set his feet on English soil. + +It was now the twenty-fourth day in May, and many reported that they had +seen a number of vessels bearing the king's retinue far away at sea, but +that he would not arrive until the following morning, as he desired to +enter the town, not when the people were tired and dusty, but as they +appeared after a night of rest and sleep, and when their finery was not +bedavered by a day's jostling. + +I remembered that my father had told me he intended being in Dover on +the twenty-sixth of the month, but I imagined that he would make +diligent inquiries concerning the coming of the king, and would surely +be in Dover before it was too late for him to offer his welcome. + +I therefore made my way to the _Fox and Hounds_, which I found to be +very full of people, and for a long time I was unable to gain any answer +to my inquiries, but I discovered presently that not only had Master +Philip Rashcliffe been to the inn, but he had also left word for me, in +case I should call, to wait for him in a private room which he had +hired. + +I followed the servant to this room, and, being left alone, was about to +review the events which had taken place since I had left my home a few +days before. Apparently I had accomplished nought, but really I had +accomplished much, especially if there was truth in what old Father +Solomon had told me. Although I have said nothing concerning it here, I +had thought much before returning to Folkestone without again seeking +out the old man and accusing him of treachery. I reflected that it would +be best for him to think of me as dead, for if I went to him he would +take other steps for hiding the precious document, and then all through +which I had gone would be in vain. Only one thing tempted me to go back +to Pycroft Hall and again descend into those dark regions underground, +and that was the dread that he had treated the woman called Constance as +he had treated me. But, although the thought fretted me sorely, the more +I reflected, the stronger was my conviction that she had left the house +by some other means. + +It was late in the evening before my father returned, and then he +greeted me as though we had been separated for years, instead of a few +days. + +"How fares it with you, Roland, my son? You look pale, and there is a +bruise on your forehead." + +"My hat covers the bruise, father," I replied gaily. "As to my pale +face, it will be quickly ruddy again." + +"But tell me, hast thou done aught?" he said anxiously. + +"As to that, I have much to relate, father, but whether it will end in +aught of advantage you shall speedily judge." + +I therefore set to work and, as clearly as I could, told him of much +through which I had passed since the day I left him. For a long time he +spoke no word, either good or bad, concerning what he had heard, and +even when he broke the silence it was only to ask me many keen searching +questions, the which I found difficult to answer, for I had not thought +of many of the meanings which he attached to what had happened to me. +Nevertheless, he seemed well pleased with me, and admitted that I had +acted with much wisdom and caution. Concerning the black box, which lay +hidden in the cavern beneath the grounds of Pycroft, he pondered long, +so much so that I thought he forgot the dismal condition I had been in +when old Solomon had left me there alone. + +"Thou hast done well, Roland," he said, "so well that I have no advice +to give thee save this. When thou dost appear before the king, do not +parade thy knowledge over-soon." + +"I appear before the king!" I cried. + +"Ay. That must be." + +"But how?" + +"I may be able to help thee in this; but if I cannot, thou hast a clever +head and must make thine own way. And another thing: if ever thou dost +see Dame Walters again, see to it that thou dost tell her nothing." + +I looked at him questioningly. + +"Never trust a woman more than you must," he said quietly. "The best +schemes in the world have been frustrated by women. The truth is, she +knows not how to hold her tongue." + +"But it seems to me that you have gained knowledge of this through a +woman--through Katharine Harcomb," I suggested. + +"Ay," he replied slowly and thoughtfully; "but women must be managed. +When dealt with by wise men they can become useful, even as Katharine +Harcomb became useful. Perhaps in the future you will be brought into +contact with women; well, never be impatient with them, and always keep +the mastery over them." + +"But how came Katharine Harcomb to come to you with her news?" I asked. +"How came I to be commissioned with this work?" + +"You will know some day," he replied; "it is nought of great importance, +but you shall know. The great matter for us to consider now is how you +are to gain the ear of the new king." + +"What have you in your mind?" I asked. + +"That I will not tell you," he replied. "A man is made, not by having +things done for him, but by doing things himself. For myself I care but +little for the future, but you are young, and life is before you. Well, +I shall leave your future mostly in your own hands. You have shown me +that you have courage and brains. With knowledge such as yours, you +ought to do much. Even if the king is unmoved by that knowledge, the +king's brother would give much to possess the thing of which you have +told me. But you must be wary; and you must be careful not to try and +pluck your apple before it is ripe." + +I looked into his face, and tried to understand the thought behind all +this; but I could discover nothing. His face was like a mask which hid +the thoughts which I felt were passing through his mind. + +"There will be gay doings to morrow," I suggested. "Ay, gay doings--gay +doings. The old order of things hath come to an end in a day. Yesterday +England was still Puritan; to-morrow it will be--God only knows what. +To-day the same people who, a little while ago, were shouting 'A free +Parliament!' are crying 'God save the king!' Bah! but we must be wise, +Roland, and you must win both fame and riches, or I shall be sorely +disappointed." + +"What do you mean, father?" + +"I mean that no man can be trusted, and every man must look out for +himself. In a week from now England will be changed. The theatres which +have been closed, will be opened, and there will be a new order of the +day. Cromwell wanted to make England the land of God. With him religion +was everything. He wanted to make England pious by law. Thus his cry was +ever, 'We must have men of God in all our public offices.' With Charles +all will be different--ay, I know him, and all will be different. The +devil will be let loose to-morrow--that is plain enough. The poets will +write poetry of a new order, pure waters will be made puddle, and pious +language will be made putrid. It's plain to be seen. Why, it hath begun +to appear in Dover even to-day. Evil is already naked and is not +ashamed, and filthiness crieth aloud. Well, Roland, methinks you have +your hand upon power. You must use it, but you must use it as one who +hath gentle blood in his veins." + +"I do not like all this," I said at length. + +"Do not like what?" asked my father almost roughly. + +"I do not like the motive which is to prompt my deeds," I made answer. +"If it were only that justice may be done, then there is reason; but to +use my knowledge to squeeze favours out of the king is not acting the +part of one who bears the name of Rashcliffe." + +My father started as though he had been stung. + +"Ay, and what would you, Roland?" he cried. "Kings rule through fear, +and I would only obtain justice by the same means. I have been +robbed--thou hast been robbed. I know these Stuarts, and I shall never +get back mine own save by making the king or his brother feel that he +will do well to listen to my behests." + +"Do you believe that what I saw is the real contract of marriage between +the king and Lucy Walters?" + +"Ay, I believe it." + +"Then that lad, James Croft, is next King of England?" + +"He should be." + +"Then let us understand," I said. "Suppose by this means we obtain from +the king all we desire? Suppose he gives you back our lands, and a place +in the nation's life, are we to keep quiet concerning this thing?" + +My father was silent for some time, and then he said, "Roland, thou art +but a boy yet. There is much to be done. But thou must see the king, and +thou must go to the king's Court. Meanwhile thou hast thine hand on the +secret of power, and every wise man uses his power wisely." + +And that was all he would say to me that night, which, as may be +imagined, puzzled me much. Nevertheless, I slept well that night, and +was only awakened by the jangling of bells and the shouts of a mighty +multitude. + +My father had already risen and gone out, and so, no food being yet +obtainable, I also left the house and went towards the sea. I found a +great concourse of people on the sea shore, who were watching with great +eagerness the ships which lay quite near to land. Never did I witness +such rejoicing before. One might have imagined that the man who was in +the royal vessel outside had done some wondrous deeds for the nation, +and that we wanted to welcome him back, even as the Romans of olden time +welcomed back their great conquerors, who were followed by the trophies +of their warfare. + +Many thought the king would land early in the morning, but it was not +until noon that the boat which was to bring him ashore touched the sand, +and then it seemed as though the shouts of the multitudes would rend the +very heavens. + +As fortune would have it, both my father and I obtained a place close to +where General Monk stood, and so we were able to view the king's +landing. I took but little note of the others who accompanied King +Charles, for I was eager to see the man who was to be the new ruler of +the nation, and as I looked I saw that he looked older than his real +age, which was just thirty years. His face was deeply marked, and that +in spite of the fact that he was of full habit. I noticed too that he +was very dark, and that a very black moustache grew on his upper lip. +His eyes were small, and what some men might call sleepy-looking, but +every now and then they flashed, just as I have seen a serpent's eyes +flash when aroused from its sleep. He watched the shouting multitude, +not with the glad look that one might have expected, but with a kind of +mocking smile. Indeed, he seemed far more interested in a very small dog +that he carried than in the greeting of his subjects. + +When he put his foot on the shore, however, and a great shout went up +from the multitude, he bowed and smiled pleasantly, and it was then I +saw wherein his fascination lay, and so much moved was I that I shouted +with the rest, at the which I saw my father, who was close by my side, +regard me with an amused smile. + +After the great shout of welcome, a signal was given for silence, and +then General Monk came forward, and welcomed him with all possible marks +of reverence and love. But even although silence was commanded, the +enthusiasm of the people was so great that I could not hear all General +Monk's words. But I could not help noting, even although this great man +had welcomed the king with such evidences of loyalty, that he seemed to +be only playing a part. He seemed to despise the plaudits of the +multitude, even as the king did as he gazed over the sea of upturned +faces. + +"Here, your Majesty, you see the love of a devoted and loyal people." + +This was the conclusion of General Monk's speech, the former part of +which was, as I have said, drowned in the sea of voices. + +Again the king smiled, a smile that was half cynical and bitter, even +although he seemed pleased at his reception. + +"I thank my people, General," he said, "and in truth I blame myself for +not coming back before, so glad doth every one appear at my coming." + +But no man seemed to note the meaning which lay at the back of his +words, nor to think of the time when this same king was hunted like a +fox throughout England, for they started to shouting again like men +possessed. And this was seen not only among the common people, but among +noblemen and gentlemen of all sorts. + +After this the mayor of the town came forward, and offering him his +welcome, also gave him his white staff of office, which the king +returned with a pleasant smile. + +"You govern the town so well, Master Mayor, that I will not rob the +people of such good service," he said with a smile, whereupon the people +shouted again, although they did not seem to know why they were +shouting. + +Then the mayor, who looked very elated and joyous, presented the king +with a very gaily and beautifully bound Bible, saying as he did so-- + +"In the name of your loyal citizens, I do humbly offer your Majesty a +copy of the sacred Scriptures, which we possess through the learning, +the piety, and the gracious goodness of your most learned and sacred +grandfather, King James the First of England." + +At this the king smiled again, and receiving the Bible, which he +afterwards gave to one of his retainers, he said, "I accept this gift +with great thanks, Master Mayor; among all things which I love in the +world, I love the Bible best." + +He wellnigh laughed as he said this, but the people, if possible, became +more excited than ever. + +"He loves the Bible!" they cried. "He is a pious king! God save His +Majesty!" + +After this he walked with General Monk towards a canopy, under which he +stood talking with his nobles. It was at this time that I realized how +keen and penetrating was the king's gaze. For although his eyes seemed +to be habitually half closed, he did at times open them wide and look +keenly around him. Moreover, he seemed to understand everything at a +glance. I noticed also that when the king spoke it was to the point, and +that his remarks were weighty with sense. + +"I will not stay at Dover," he said to General Monk. "The people have +seen me, and that is enough. From what I can gather they love a king +more than a protector; nevertheless, it is well that I go straight to +Canterbury Cathedral, where, in the interests of religion, I will +publicly give thanks to God for my safe return to my people." + +"A wise step, your Majesty," said a young man who had stood near the +king the whole time. + +"Ah, Master Tom Killigrew, I expect you to write a great ode to our +landing this day." + +"I would that my poor wit were equal to the subject, your Majesty." + +"Well, we shall see. Thou hast been faithful in mine adversity, and now +we return to gladder times." + +"There have been many faithful during your Majesty's adversity. Through +all the dark years there have been many who have not bowed the knee to +Baal." + +It was my father who spoke. Through influences that I knew not of, he +had obtained a place for us near General Monk, at the landing, and now +through the same means we had followed the king to the canopy. + +"Who is this?" asked the king sharply. + +"It is Master Philip Rashcliffe," said a voice. "He was one who fought +for your gracious sire in the first civil war, and was grievously +wounded." + +He gave only a passing glance to my father, but fixed his eyes on me, +who stood by his side. + +"And who is this brave youth? Nay, nay, do not speak for him; speak for +yourself, young man." + +"My name is Roland Rashcliffe, your Majesty," I made answer. + +"The son of Master Philip here?" + +"Yes, your Majesty." + +"A youth of spirit, I should judge," he said, "ay, and well grown too. +He pleaseth me well." + +Now at this my heart was all elate, for let who will say otherwise, it +is no light thing for a youth to be noticed by his king. + +"And thou hast come to bid me welcome, Master Roland?" + +"Yes, sire," I replied, scarce daring to look him in the face. + +"Well, rise; thou hast knelt long enough. And what favour dost thou +ask?" + +I lifted my eyes as he spoke, and saw a quizzical look upon his face. +Nay, it was more than quizzical. He seemed, as I thought, suspicious of +my motives in coming, although I knew not why. + +I had it on my tongue to tell him how my father had been impoverished by +the Puritans, but I only said-- + +"Nothing, your Majesty." + +"Nothing? Then is thy request easily granted. Fancy, General Monk: I +have put it in the way of this youth to ask me a favour, and yet he hath +demanded nothing. Will this be an augury of my reign?" + +"I trust so, your Majesty," replied Monk, and I thought I saw greed in +his eyes. "And yet many, although they ask not favour at your hands, +will seek justice," continued Monk boldly. + +"Ah, how is that? Ay, I remember now. It hath been told me that your +life hath been in danger. That a fanatical Puritan woman, a daughter of +John Leslie, Constance by name, and wife of Sir Charles Denman, of +painful memory, sought your life when you took steps to ensure my coming +back to mine own. We must inquire into into this. She must be taken +prisoner and put to death." + +"She hath already been taken prisoner." + +"Ah, that is well. Well, we will see to it that both she and those who +aided and abetted her shall have justice. Where is she imprisoned?" + +"At present in Bedford, sire." + +"Ah, that is well. But I will not think of these things now. I must away +to Canterbury." + +He took no further notice of me; nay, for that matter he regarded none +of those who gazed eagerly into his face. Instead, still carrying the +small dog, which he seemed to prize greatly, he left the canopy, and +made his way to a stately coach, which set out, amidst the continued +acclamations of the people, towards Canterbury. + +As for myself, I took but little note of the king's departure, while the +feeling of joy which had come into my heart at his kind words passed +away. Why, I knew not, but the news that the woman called Constance, the +wife of Sir Charles Denman, had been put in prison and was doomed to +death, drove all other thoughts from my mind, and there and then I did +make up my mind that I would save her from such a terrible end. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +AN ADVENTURE ON THE CANTERBURY ROAD + + +It is difficult for me to describe my feelings at this time. For while +on the one hand I was pleased that the king should speak so kindly to +me, I was in a most unaccountable way disturbed at the news of Mistress +Constance Denman's imprisonment. So much so that, as I have said, I +determined that, happen what would, I would rescue her from prison. Why +I should decide to do this may seem to the reader somewhat of a puzzle. +I knew but little of her, and even that which I knew was not in her +favour. She was the wife of a man who, although calling himself a +Puritan, was a hard, unscrupulous man, evidently one who would intrigue +against the king, and be a party to murder. But not only this, she was +herself guilty of attempted murder, and therefore a dangerous woman. I +knew that General Monk had been much hated when he had yielded to the +desires of those who sought to bring about the king's return, especially +as he was thought to have been a traitor to all the promises he had +made. Nevertheless, none but a desperate lawless woman would be guilty +of attempted murder, and thus the justice of which the king had spoken +was surely merited. + +In spite of this, however, I determined to save her. It is true she had +treated me with scant courtesy, and although she had told me to wait +outside Pycroft Hall until her return, she had never again appeared. +Evidently she had left Pycroft Hall only to be taken prisoner, and then +conveyed to Bedford. I knew by the look on Monk's face that no mercy +would be shown, while it was easy to be seen that the new king would be +anything but clement towards the daughter of John Leslie, who had been +one of the principal actors in bringing about the death of his father. + +Still, I was not changed in my resolution, neither for that matter could +I bring myself to believe that she was guilty of the crime of which she +was accused. I knew that she was a brave, resolute woman. No one could +be with her as I had been and not be sure of that, but her face was not +the face of one who could coldly meditate upon and arrange for murder. +Passionate she might be, and therefore in the heat of the moment might +be led to do a terrible deed. But she could not plan to do it. Such a +scheme as had been described to me must have been brooded over in cold +blood, and I could not believe that she could have done this. + +I called to mind my first sight of her features, and I felt confirmed in +my impression. She was only twenty, and her face was free from the +possibility of such a crime. A noble face I thought it was, and even at +the time I felt that its possessor was a noble woman. + +All this passed through my mind as I stood beneath the canopy prepared +for the king, while the multitudes were shouting all around. So much was +I occupied with them, moreover, that unlike the others I did not follow +his Majesty to the great coach in which he was to ride to Canterbury; +but remained there alone, brooding over what I had heard. + +"Roland." + +"Yes, father." + +"Come! we must needs haste." + +"Why?" + +"Because we will follow in the procession to Canterbury. The horses are +saddled. I have seen to that." + +"Yes, father." + +This I said like one in a dream, for while I had it in my mind that the +journey to Canterbury would suit me well, seeing that we should be on +our way to London, my mind was so occupied with other things that I paid +but scant heed to his words. + +A little later we were on our way out of the town, a great crowd +following the king, while a greater crowd prepared to remain in Dover, +so as to take part in the carousing which had, been arranged. On the +hill near I saw Dover Castle, which looked stately and grand in the +smiling sunlight, while seaward the waters gleamed brightly, as though +nature sought to harmonize with the gladness of the multitude. All +around the people continued to cry "God save the king!" while guns +boomed with a great, thundering noise, and bands of music played merry +tunes. + +"Methinks, this is a great day, Roland," said my father, who rode close +to my side. + +I did not reply, for my mind was full of the thought of the woman who +lay in prison. + +"The king seemed pleased with you." + +"Ay," I replied, "I trust so." + +"Trust nothing, Roland." + +I gazed nervously around, fearing lest my father's words should be heard +and reported to the king. + +"You need not fear to speak, Roland," said my father. "No attention is +paid to us. Besides, there is such a noise that no man can hear you +speak, save me, whose ear is close to your mouth. In truth had I a +matter of secrecy to discuss I would desire no better place." + +I continued silent, first because there seemed nought to say, and second +because I thought of other matters. + +"I have thought much of what you related to me last night," continued my +father, "and I have concluded that you have forgotten to speak to me of +many matters." + +In this my father spoke truly, for although I had spoken freely +concerning my interview with old Solomon, I had said but little +concerning the woman whose fate had become of so much interest. Why I +had refrained from doing this I knew not, yet so it was. + +"I have told you all I know concerning the thing I went to seek," I +replied. + +"Ay, that is so, Roland, and thou hast never told me a lie. But I am +convinced of this: That old man never intended thee to die in that +cavern." + +"No," I replied. "What is your reason for believing that?" + +"I have many reasons." + +"Then why did he leave me?" + +"To return after you had fasted two or three days, and when your +strength would be so gone that he would be able to make his own terms +with you." + +I had not thought of this before, and I wondered at my dullness, for +there was sense in my father's surmise, and I fancied there might be +truth in it. + +"I see gay doings ahead," said my father presently. + +"Ay," I replied, for I was thinking of the reception the king would meet +in London. + +"Never did a king come to a throne under fairer skies," said my father. +"He hath come back without conditions. His will is as powerful as his +father desired his own to be. But there will be a terrible time for the +Puritans." + +"But he hath promised general forgiveness." + +"He is the son of his father, and all the world knows what a Stuart's +promises are worth. But never mind, thou hast found favour. See that +thou dost make use of it. But ask for nothing yet; throw your dice +carefully. But, Roland, you must obtain those papers." + +Again I looked nervously around, but I saw at a glance that no one paid +heed to us. + +"I tell you, you must do nothing until they are in your possession." + +"No," I replied eagerly enough, for his commands fell in with my mood. + +"I can do nothing to help you." + +I looked at him inquiringly. + +"Nothing. I shall have other things to look after. But you are no fool, +and you must do it yourself. And mind, never sow your seed until your +ground is prepared." + +At this I set to wondering much as to what might be in my father's mind, +but not, I am afraid, to much purpose, seeing that the noise of the +crowd seemed to increase rather than diminish, especially as we drew +near Canterbury. + +Arrived at this old city, the king make straight for the Cathedral, and +so great was the multitude who desired to follow him that I became +separated from my father; and then, scarcely regretting the happening, I +rode away from the turmoil, and set out for London town with all speed. +A full hundred miles lay before me, but I hoped that by hard riding, +even although the day was somewhat spent, I should get thither before +midnight. My horse had rested for several days, and had been well fed +and groomed during the time, and being a creature of high mettle, he +responded to the feelings of his rider, and dashed forward at a fine +speed. I had not ridden many miles, however, before I noticed that two +men were riding behind me, and as I judged were anxious to keep me in +sight. At first I took but little note of them, but when I found they +kept about the same distance from me, neither losing nor gaining upon +me, I began to wonder what was in their minds. About five o'clock in the +afternoon I stopped at an inn, so that I might obtain refreshment for my +horse and myself, and also, as I thought, give them an opportunity of +passing me. I took my place near the window, so that I might be able to +watch my horse and the road, at the same time, but although I let +nothing escape me, I saw neither of them pass by the hostelry in which I +was sitting. + +"They must have taken some other road," I said to myself, and when after +a few minutes I again mounted, and on looking around saw no sign of +them, I was confirmed in my impression. But in this I was quickly +deceived, for I had not gone a mile along the road, before I heard the +sound of horses' hoofs, and on turning round, I saw these same two men +at a short distance from me. + +I stopped, determining to have the matter out with them, but the moment +I did so they likewise stopped, as if by set purpose. + +"Two to one," I said to myself, "and both are armed. It were foolish for +me to pick a quarrel." So I determined to outdistance them by hard +riding. But here again I failed to succeed, for although as I have said +Black Ben was young and fleet, I could gain not one yard upon them. + +If I galloped they did likewise, and if I dropped into a canter they +followed my example. This kind of thing was kept up until I saw the sun +begin to sink, and then, seeing a piece of lonely country before me, I +began to apprehend an attack. + +"Two to one," I repeated to myself, and I began to examine my pistols, +and to see to it that my sword lay easy in its sheath; but no sooner had +I done this than they vanished as if by magic, and I was left alone. +Upon this I again gave Black Ben rein, but by this time he had become +somewhat wearied by his long journey, so that although I made good +speed, I feared to press him too hardly. + +A little later, and the night had fallen; moreover my way led through a +wood, which made everything dark, so that I had to ride warily. Added to +this, I presently approached a steep hill, where I rode slowly so that +my horse might take breath. I had scarcely gone half-way up when I heard +a rustle among the bushes at my side, and before I had time to draw +either pistol or sword, my arms were pinioned, and I was thrown to the +ground with great force. + +"Not a sound, not a movement, or I will blow your brains out," said some +one in my ear. + +I tried to catch sight of his face, but in vain. The woods made the road +dark, and as far as I could judge he was closely muffled. Moreover the +fall stunned me, and so numbed my senses that I was unable to think +clearly. I remember, however, that they searched my pockets, which made +me think of them as common footpads, but even when they had done this +they did not leave me. + +"Have you found it?" said one. + +"Not a sign of it," said another. + +"But the fellow hath it: we must get it out of him somehow." + +"He hath not, I tell you. I've searched him to the skin. This was easy, +for the fall knocked all life out of him. He lies like a man dead." + +"Surely, we've not killed him?" + +"No, he breathes." + +"Then ask him where he put it, and threaten to flog him alive if he will +not tell you." + +"A good thought. I say there--wake up!" and he shook me violently. + +By this time my senses had come back to me sufficiently to know that I +should learn most by holding my peace. I therefore continued to lie like +a man dead. + +"I say, you Rashcliffe, speak up. It's to your advantage, man," the man +continued. + +This, as you may be sure, made me more alert than ever, I was now +convinced that these were no common footpads, but men who had followed +and attacked me for a purpose. They knew my name, and they suspected me +of having something which they desired. Immediately I thought of old +Solomon's words, "the Duke of York would give his eyes to have this +thing." Were these men agents of the duke, and had they discovered that +I had found out where the marriage contract was? + +"It's no use, Rickmore. He must have struck his head against a stone +when we dragged him from his horse. He may lie like this for hours." + +"You are sure you've searched him thoroughly?" + +"Every rag upon his body?" + +"And what have you found?" + +"Nought but a little money and his pistols." + +"Pull off his boots, it may be there." + +I allowed them to pull off my boots, lying limp and inert as they did +so; but, as may be imagined, they were again disappointed. + +"The fellow hath nought," said the man who had been called Rickmore, +"and 'pon my word, I believe he's dead." + +"Then Duke James will have to wait." + +"Hush, man, some one may hear!" + +"Hear!" and the other laughed scornfully. "There's not a living soul +within three miles of the place. I say Duke James will have to wait. The +thing must be found, but this springald hath it not, spite of the +woman's speech." + +"Doth the thing exist at all?" + +"Exist! You should have seen the look on Duke James' face when I told +him what Katharine Harcomb had said to me. 'By the Holy Virgin, +Hamilton,' said he, speaking like the good Catholic he is, 'get hold of +the young rascal. Never let him out of your sight until you have +obtained all he hath found, and know all he can tell you.'" + +"Did he say that?" + +"Ay he did. I tell you he puts great store on it." + +"But the fellow hath it not." + +"No, and what is worse we have so nearly killed him that he might as +well be dead." + +"Well, what are we to do?" + +"We can do nought but return to London, and wait for the coming of the +king. At all events the king is king, thanks to Monk." + +"He's to be made a duke, I hear." + +"After Denman's wife tried to send him to heaven?" + +"Ay, and would have succeeded, but for a mishap." + +"Nay, nay. She might have sent him to hell, but never to heaven." + +"Well, from all I hear no one could wish to be sent to the other world +by a fairer hand. Men have it that when Denman married Master Leslie's +daughter, he wedded a face as fair as an angel's." + +"Well, it'll not save her from the gallows. Had her father not been such +a Puritan, it might have gained her favour with King Charles, but I hear +that the very name stinks in his nostrils. I am told that she nearly +escaped, but a man rode night and day to Dover to tell Monk that she had +been captured, and was safely lodged in Bedford Gaol." + +"She must be a brave woman. Were she not the wife of such a fellow as +Denman I would strike a blow for her deliverance. Bedford Gaol is not a +hard place to get out of, for the gaoler not only loves his wine, but +will take a bribe. Besides, the woman who tried to send Monk into +eternity deserves some help. But say, what are we to do with this young +jackanapes?" + +"Do you think he's dead?" + +"No; he lives, although there's no knowing how much we've hurt him. We +dare not let it be known that we've had aught to do with him. Duke James +was very careful to tell us that everything must be done in secret." + +"Then let him lie, while we make our way to London." + +"Shall we take his money? He will think then that we are footpads." + +"No, we cannot do that, badly as we need it. After all, a gentleman is a +gentleman." + +"Nor his horse? It is a good one." + +"Nay, that might tell tales. Besides, we are well supplied; let us on to +London. A good night's rest to you, Master Rashcliffe." + +"With apologies for delay." + +"And a curse upon you for not having what we wanted." + +I heard them laugh as they mounted and rode away, as though they were +pleased with themselves. For some time I did not move; I thought it +would be wiser to keep up the part I had been playing, for fear they +might come back. Presently I heard the sound of horses coming towards me +from the Canterbury road, and this led me to get up with all speed, and +to call Black Ben to my side. A few minutes later I was again on +horseback, but little the worse for my happening, although sore vexed +with myself for being mastered so easily. Still, I had learnt something. +I was not the only one who was trying to obtain Lucy Walters' marriage +contract, while my father was not the only one to whom Katharine Harcomb +had spoken concerning the thing. Moreover I had been confirmed in my +information concerning the prison of Mistress Denman, neither did I fail +to take note of what was said about the gaoler. + +On the whole, therefore, I was not ill-pleased with the night's events, +and possessed no very bitter feelings towards either Master Rickmore or +Master Hamilton. + +Nothing of importance happened further to me that night. As I drew +nearer London, I found the people talking much about the gay doings +which were to take place when the king came back to his loyal city, as +well as the terrible punishments which would be meted out to all who in +any way took part in King Charles' death. I did not stay in London +longer than I could help, however, for, foolish as it may appear, I +determined to ride to Bedford, and if possible deliver from prison the +woman who had been my companion to Pycroft Hall but a few nights +before. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +HOW I SAW A MAN WHO BECAME FAMOUS! + + +The night was falling fast as I drew near Bedford town. The weather was +very fine, however, and the country side was fair to behold. Flowers +were blooming on all sides, and the scent of the young and bursting life +was indeed pleasant. Not that I was in a mood to enter into the +joyousness of that spring evening, for I had ridden hard since morning, +and I noticed that Black Ben's head drooped, and he dragged one leg +wearily after another. Besides, my mind was filled with many doubts and +fears. Why had I come to a town of which I knew nothing? And why should +I seek to rescue a woman from prison who thought so little of my help +that she had treated my offer with but little respect? Added to this, +why should I, the son of a gentleman who had fought for Charles Stuart, +seek to befriend the woman who had attempted murder in order to prevent +the rightful king of the country from coming back to his throne? + +These questions, which persisted in coming to me, were real and forceful +enough, and try as I would I could find no satisfactory answer to them. +Yet did I ride straight on, determined to do that which reason and +welfare declared to be madness. For the woman's face haunted me. The +look of despair I had seen in her eyes, the tone of her voice, appealed +to me so strongly for help that I could not resist. More than that, the +very mystery which surrounded her strengthened my determination. What +led her to Folkestone, and what connection had she with the old man with +whom I had had such strange experiences at Pycroft Hall? + +All this determined me to get to Bedford that night, and then to use my +utmost endeavour to deliver her from the hands of Monk's minions and +from the king's power. + +I heard the bells from the old church at Bedford pealing out a note of +joy, when I saw a man in plain homely garments trudging along the road +in front of me. + +"Give you good even," he said, as I rode up. + +"Good even," I replied, trying to discern in the fast failing light +whether he was a man of quality. + +"You look as though you have ridden far." + +"From London," I replied, reflecting that although he looked not like a +man of wealth, there was an air of authority about him, which made it +impossible to pass him by without a second look. + +"Ah," he said eagerly. "And what is the news from London?" + +"There is much," I replied; "and yet it will not take long in the +telling." + +"And how is that?" + +"Because it all hath to do with the same thing. When you have said that +the new king is on his way thither and that the people are preparing to +welcome him, you have told all." + +"Ah, but that means much, I fear." + +"You fear?" + +"Ay, I fear, young master, for I fear me the devil is unloosed in London +town. If what I have heard be true, then all those things which the +children of the Lord have fought against, and driven into the darkness, +are to be flaunted in broad daylight, and no man will dare to cry +shame." + +"The new king loves pleasure," I made answer. + +He looked at me steadily, and was silent. + +I would have ridden on at this; but thinking he might be able to tell me +things I desired to know, I determined to alight and walk by his side. + +"We are not far from Bedford, I take it?" I said. + +"But a mile." + +"Know you of a good hostelry there?" + +"I know all that may be found there." + +"Then, by your leave, I will walk back with you, for I judge you are +travelling thither." + +"Ay," he replied, "my home is at Bedford, and my wife and dear ones live +there." + +There was a quiet dignity in the way he spoke, and although I detected +none of the evidences of the schoolman in his speech, I could not help +feeling that he was a man of some authority. + +"Do you love God, young master?" he said, the moment I had dismounted, +and walked by his side. + +"How may a man do that?" I asked, for the question took me aback. + +"By loving His Son, whom He hath sent in the flesh to proclaim his love, +by dying for a sinful world." + +"And what may be the signs which show forth that one loves the Son of +God?" I continued, concluding that I had happened across one of the +Puritans of the district. + +"The sign of love is obedience," he replied. "For what are His Words? +'He that hath My commandments, and keepeth them, he it is that loveth +Me.'" + +"That also may need explanation," I replied, for I determined not to +endanger myself in any way by hasty speech. + +"The explanation is simple," he replied quietly. "The teaching of Christ +is that we do good, not only in lip but in life. That we love one +another, and that we also love the truth of God. It is also that we obey +God at all costs, even as the Apostles did of olden time. We have a safe +guide to the will of God in the Holy Scriptures, and especially is it +made clear to us in the New Testament Scriptures. The proofs of love to +God are trust in and obedience to Him, as is set forth therein. For what +said Martin Luther, when he stood before his judges, who called upon him +to recant. 'Confute me with scripture; if you cannot do that, neither +can I recant, for it is neither safe nor wise for a man to disobey his +conscience.' So then he loves God who is true to Him, and this he does +by instructing his conscience by Holy Writ and much prayer, and then +obeying his conscience whatever may befall him." + +"But may a man not need instruction in Holy Writ?" I asked. + +"A man's prayer obtains the best instruction," he made answer. "If we +read the Scriptures in prayer and reverence, God will guide us. Thus it +is that a wayfaring man, though a fool, need not err in the ways of +truth." + +"But suppose that one be led in reading the Scriptures to hold views +different from those of those set in authority over us?" I asked. + +He lifted his large eyes to mine, and scanned my face intently. + +"Yet should he hold fast by his integrity," he replied. + +"Even if the teachers of the Church command otherwise?" I asked. + +"Who are the teachers of the Church?" he asked. "Are they such as +Cardinal Pole, and Stephen Gardiner, falsely called the Bishop of +Winchester, or Dr. Ridley and Master Hugh Latimer, whom they put to +death by fire? Ay, and to whose voice shall we listen; that of Laud, the +Papist in disguise, and his lying master Charles Stuart, or to such as +Cromwell, and Pym, and Hampden, who saved England from Popery and +slavery?" + +"That is treason," I said. + +"To whom--God or man?" he asked quietly. + +"To man," I made answer, even before I knew the words had escaped from +my lips. + +"Ay, to man," he replied; "but he who loves God will never be a traitor +to Him. Nevertheless, may God grant that the will of man and the will of +God may never be set against each other." + +"Do you fear they will?" I asked. + +"What say men in London town?" he asked. + +"That the king will bring in a new order of things," I made answer, "and +that those who favoured his father's death shall be punished." + +"Ay, ay," he said slowly. "But what of the Church, young master, what of +the Church?" + +"It is said that the bishops are already looking forward to the time +when schism shall be overcome, and that they are already making +preparation for the change. That they are overjoyed that the king is +coming back is but to make suggestion of the whole truth." + +"Ay, ay," he replied; "but we fight not with carnal weapons; our +strength is in the Lord of Hosts. The three Hebrew youths would not fall +down and worship, and they were thrown into the furnace seven times +heated, yet did the Lord deliver them. The Apostles were commanded not +to preach the Gospel, yet did they preach it, and were thrown into +prison; but the Lord opened the prison doors. At present the cloud is no +bigger than a man's hand, yet it will darken this land. I can see it +plainly, yet must the children of God bear witness to the truth." + +The man spoke like one would think the prophets of old times spoke, so +calm and quiet, and yet so full of authority were his tones. + +"Methinks, those who call themselves the children of God fight with +other than carnal weapons," I made answer. "If ever there was a man of +the sword it was Oliver Cromwell." + +"Ay, but he trusted not in the arm of flesh, but in the Lord God," he +made answer, "else would his armies have been but burning stubble in a +strong wind. It was the men of God whom Cromwell selected, who won +Marston Moor and Naseby. On the other hand, it was the lies and the base +living of Charles and his followers which caused their defeat." + +"Ay, but Cromwell is dead, and men have it that a whining, hypocritical +crew have taken his place. There have been some Judas Iscariots and +traitors at the head of England for many months." + +"Ay, and some Monks too," he added, a little bitterly, I thought. + +"Ay, and a Puritan woman sought to kill him, and if report speaks truly, +she is even now in Bedford Gaol." + +I thought I saw him start as I spoke, so being young and foolish, and +wishing to get the better of an argument of which, as I thought, he had +the best all the way, I went on-- + +"Men have it that Master John Leslie, the father of this woman, is a +great man among the hot-gospellers and Independents, while Sir Charles +Denman, her husband, is almost as much renowned for his preaching as +Hugh Peters himself." + +For a moment he stopped still in the road, and he lifted his right hand +above his head. Even in the dim light I noted his sturdy thick-set +figure, his broad mouth, and his searching, yet kindly eyes. + +"Is that what men are saying?" he asked presently, dropping his hand. + +"It is common gossip," I replied. + +"Men have it that Constance, daughter of John Leslie, together with her +husband and father, plotted the murder of Monk, have they? Is that the +talk in London town?" + +"It is given out by General Monk himself," I replied. "It is told to the +new king and his counsellors, and more it hath been proved by many +witnesses. The wound in the arm of Monk's secretary is sufficient +proof." + +He stood still for a minute without speaking, then he said quietly-- + +"And have you heard aught concerning the probable fate of this maiden?" + +"She is to be brought to London without delay after the king hath +arrived thither, and then she is to be tried, condemned, and put to +death. Men also have it that there is a warrant out against Sir Charles +Denman and Master John Leslie." + +"Perhaps it is the will of God," he said, presently. "The blood of the +martyr hath ever been the seed of the Church of the living God." + +"Martyr," I said, for something made me feel that this man knew much of +these people. "Can the death of a woman who hath attempted murder be +called martyrdom?" + +I could have almost bitten my tongue for having uttered these words, for +although my reason told me they were true, my heart went against them, +and accused me of being unjust to the woman to whom I had avowed that +she could never do an unworthy deed. + +"There be many things known only to God," he replied solemnly, "and +God's ways are not our ways, neither His thoughts our thoughts, yet will +we trust Him though He slay us." + +"Know you aught of this woman?" I asked. + +"I know what all men know," he answered. "I know that she was on her way +to Bedford to visit her father, who is a man of substance in Bedford, as +well as in London, and that while coming hither she was taken by the +minions of Monk, and dragged to gaol." + +"From whence did she come?" + +"From the south, somewhere." + +"But had she no protector?" + +"She had none. She was taken during the night." + +"But surely she could not travel from the south on foot." + +"Nay, she rode a good horse." + +I wanted to ask other questions, but I was afraid, for I knew not who +the man was, and I dared not trust him so far as to lead him to think I +knew anything concerning her. + +"Know you aught of her, young master?" + +"I have come from the south," I answered, "and it was said that she had +been seen not twenty miles from where the king landed but yesterday." + +"Ay, poor child, I fear me that this led her to think she would be safe +here. For you are mistaken in believing that a warrant is out against +her father. It is not true. It hath been proved that Master Leslie had +neither part nor lot in the attempt to murder Monk, and in proof of my +words he may be seen in Bedford town, although in sore grief that his +daughter is now awaiting such a fearful end." + +"But he would have sheltered her, ay, and have sought to hide her, had +she reached his house?" I said. + +"Did not the early Christians hide each other in Rome?" he asked. "And +did not men hide their faithful friends in the time of Mary?" + +"But they were innocent?" + +"And is not she innocent?" + +At this I did not speak, although there seemed but little doubt, as I +gathered from the words spoken to the king, that proofs of her guilt +were unanswerable. + +"Nevertheless," he went on, "although Master John Leslie is a man of +station and wealth, he has been much insulted these last three days. Men +wag their heads as he passes by, especially those who are godless, and +rejoice because they believe the coming of the king will mean +godlessness and licentiousness. Ay, and whatever be the state of things +in London, it seems as though the devil is unchained. Drunkenness and +vice walk naked and not ashamed, while many who I thought were founded +in the faith have joined the hosts of those who love not the Lord." + +By this time we had entered the town, and I began to look around me for +some inn where I could find fodder for my horse and a supper for myself. + +"Stay you long in Bedford, young master?" + +"I hope my stay may be brief," I replied. "Will you show me to the best +inn the town affords?" + +"The place most free from reproach, and where men of standing gather, is +_The Bull_," he replied, "but methinks even that will scarce be a +fitting place to-night for a well-behaved youth, as you seem to be." + +"And why?" I asked. + +"Because, as I told you, the whole town, since the news of the coming of +the king, hath been a scene of drunkenness and revelry. Wherever there +is much ale there is much devilry, whether it be drunk at _The Bull_ or +elsewhere. Even the ostlers cannot be got to attend to their duties, +therefore I fear you will have to groom and feed your horse yourself. As +for sleep, I much fear me that you will not be able to obtain it. I will +e'en call with you so that you may see for yourself, and if the place is +given over to carousal, then if you can think of nought better, I will +gladly offer you a bed in my own poor home." + +"Thank you, good friend," I made answer, "I trust I may not need to take +advantage of your good nature; all the same I am grateful to you, and +would like to know the name of one who hath proffered such kindness." + +"My name is John Bunyan," he replied, "and I minister to God's people in +this town." + +"You are then an Independent preacher?" I asked. + +"I am called to preach the Gospel of Christ," he replied, "and God hath +so blessed me, that I, who was a vile sinner, have been able to point a +great multitude to the Lamb of God which taketh away the sins of the +world." + +I do not know why it was, but although my father had not influenced me +to lean either towards the Episcopal Church or towards the Dissenters, I +felt prejudiced against him. I determined therefore that nothing should +induce me to sleep at his house, and when we presently reached _The +Bull_, and I found the place given over to drinking and revelry even as +he had said, I persisted in having the room offered to me. + +"Perhaps we shall meet again, young master," he said, as he walked away. +"God hath a purpose in bringing people together, and although when I +went out this evening to speak words of comfort to a sick member of my +flock, I had no premonition that I should meet you, yet I believe God +had a purpose in it, for truly I can see that thou art not far from the +Kingdom." + +It was some time before I was able to obtain an ostler to feed and groom +my horse; at length, however, I succeeded in so doing by the promise of +extra payment, and then having satisfied myself on this score, I found +my way to the inn again, in the hope of supper. But in this I found +great difficulty. Drink was plentiful enough, but something to eat was a +different matter. Every one in the house seemed too busy in supplying +drink to those who came hither to drink the king's health to be able to +care aught for the needs of a traveller such as myself. At length, +however, I obtained some boiled beef and bread, and with this I had to +be content, and after partaking thereof I found my way into a room where +I was told the people of quality had congregated. + +Little notice was taken of my coming, until it became known that I had +come from London town, after which I became a person of great +importance, and was plied with many questions. These I answered freely +enough. First because my answers could arouse no suspicion, and second +because I thought I should thereby lead my questioners to talk about the +woman who was imprisoned at Bedford Gaol. In this I found I had +conjectured rightly, and when, presently, I found that one of those who +talked with me was no less a person than the governor of the gaol, I +rejoiced greatly that I had not accepted the hospitality of Master John +Bunyan. + +"Ah, but it is a feather in my cap," said this man, whose name I found +to be John Sturgeon, "and I doubt not that when all the happenings reach +the king's ears he will be mightily pleased with me." + +I saw that he had been drinking freely, and that he weighed not his +words. Moreover, he seemed to be a man of choleric temper, and did not +brook opposition from any one. + +"And how may that be, Master Sturgeon?" I said. "Think you the king will +have so little to do when he arrives at Whitehall that he will pay heed +to the imprisonment of what you have called a Puritan woman?" + +"Surely you have not lived in London, or you would not speak so +foolishly," he cried. "Suppose, I say, suppose she had killed General +Monk, would the king have been welcomed back? I tell you no. Therefore +will the king bear in mind all who have had aught to do with the capture +of such a one." + +"Ay, but," I urged, "the governor of the gaol is not the constable who +caught her coming hither?" + +"Again you speak like a fool, young master, or you would know that I am +a man of authority in Bedford. Moreover, was it not I who had Master +John Leslie watched? Did I not note his looks of uneasiness, and did not +the inquiries I made concerning him lead me to place men along the roads +to London? Ah, but it was by the merest shave that they took her. For +what was she dressed like, think you? As a witch? Nay, but as a saucy +young springald. Moreover, she carried things with a high hand, and +threatened Jonathan Wild, the biggest constable in Bedford, to horsewhip +him. But her face betrayed her, for one of the men, although she hath +lived much in London, and is but little known in Bedford, recognized her +in the moonlight, and then having suspicions, pulled off her headgear, +whereupon her hair fell down her back." + +At this there was much laughter, and many coarse jests. + +"Ah, well," went on Master Sturgeon, "I never did like Master Leslie, +for he sent many a good fellow to Bedford Gaol, simply because they were +not straightlaced Puritans like himself. Things are changed now, and +mayhap that I shall have even him under lock and key." + +"How did she get her horse and her attire?" I asked. + +"That I cannot tell," he replied, "but I doubt not it will all come out +when she is tried." + +"When and where is the trial to be?" + +"In London, I do hear. This, I think, is a shame, for why should all the +fun be in London. Still the deed was done there, and mayhap the king, +who loves a pretty face, may wish to be at the trial." + +Although much more was said, there was little of importance; moreover I +found that men were too eager to talk of the events which were to take +place in London because of the king's coming, to pay much heed to the +woman who had attempted the life of General Monk, wife to Sir Charles +Denman though she might be. + +Still I kept in the room until wellnigh midnight, when Master Sturgeon +rose to go. I was told that he boasted of being able to carry more drink +than any man in Bedford, nevertheless I saw that he staggered somewhat +on leaving the inn. As he put on his hat a plan was suddenly born in my +mind, and without weighing its value I followed him into the street, +determining to make my first attempt that very night to obtain the +liberty of the woman into whose company I had been so strangely thrown. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +MASTER STURGEON, THE GAOLER + + +Master Sturgeon had walked but a few steps when I came to his side. + +"I am a stranger in Bedford, Master Sturgeon," I said, "therefore the +company of such a well-known man as yourself is of great interest to me, +and if I may, I will e'en walk a little way with you." + +"Ah, it is you, Master Stranger?" he made answer, "and you have seen +that I am a man of no mean import in the town? Ah, well, you are a youth +of great penetration." + +"Every one here seems to know you," I said. + +"How can it be otherwise?" he said, with half-drunken gravity. "Am I not +the father of the town? It is true that many would say that Master +Leslie is of greater importance than I, because he is a justice, and +because he comes of an old family. But what of that? I am here always +and he is only here sometimes. And besides--will not this drag him down, +and lift me up? He will say, of course, that Sir Charles Denman egged +her on, and not he: that may be true; but why was she on her way to +Goodlands, which is the name of Master Leslie's house? You see, she was +hardly ever seen at Bedford. None of the family liked the place. Master +Leslie came sometimes, and crowed it over people who have made the town, +but his wife and children considered themselves too high and mighty to +come." + +"Master Leslie hath other children, then?" + +"Ay, that he hath." + +"How many?" + +"As to that I know not, for, as I have said, he lived much in London, +and was great friends with Old Noll. But when he did come here, he +showed what a strong Quaker he was, going sometimes to hear the tinker, +and at others to hear Master Gaystone, who is as great a Presbyterian as +ever lived. Would you mind taking my arm, young master? My head is clear +enough, but I seem to see the road rising up before me." + +I took his arm, and continued to ply him with questions, for though he +stammered and hiccuped much, he seemed desirous of talking. Moreover, he +was not so drunk but that he understood what he was saying. + +"And Sir Charles Denman. Know you aught of him?" + +"Nay, nothing much. A great friend of Master Leslie's and a bigoted +Puritan. A money lover, too, and one, I am told, who is as secret as an +oyster. Men have wondered that a maid so young and so fair to look upon +should have married him; but no man can tell what a woman will do." + +"Is she, then, so very beautiful?" + +"Ay, that she is. When I saw her brought into the gaol, I fair started. +It seemed impossible that one so young and so fair could attempt to +murder a man. But there it is, no man may say what these Puritans will +do." + +"The king may thank his stars he hath such a zealous officer in this +town of Bedford," I said, trying to play upon his vanity. "It ought to +be made known what a valuable subject he possesseth." + +"Ah, you see that! What I fear is that my part will not be mentioned to +his Majesty. Why, a man hath been knighted for less!" + +"Many's the time," I said; "yet would you believe that, although I was +at Dover when the king landed, and although I heard an officer tell him +that the woman was captured, your name was never once mentioned?" + +"You at Dover! You heard men tell the news to the king!" he cried. + +"Ay, and I spoke to the king," I made answer; "but I left him at +Canterbury, for I desired to reach London town quickly, having affairs +of importance to transact." + +"And the king spoke to you, young master! Tell me, did the king speak to +you?" + +"Ay, that he did," I replied. "Why not?" + +My news seemed to startle him so that his voice lost some of its +thickness, and I thought he became soberer. + +"I fear I have taken liberties with my betters," he said solemnly. + +"Oh, as to that I take no account," I replied. "It was not for me to +blazon it abroad that I had spoken to the king, or to tell them that he +asked me if I desired a favour, therefore you would think of me as you +would think of any other traveller coming into the town. Still, I saw +that you were a man of authority, and I desired to speak with you." + +"Tell me, young master," he said eagerly, "hath the king sent you here? +Are you here for anything like statecraft?" + +"As to that, Master Sturgeon, young as I am I am old enough to hold my +peace on such matters. Only this I will say: I have a stronger hold on +the king than many whose names are bandied from mouth to mouth, and a +word from me will in the time to come weigh much with him." + +"Your name, worshipful master, what might your name be?" + +"As I said before, a man doth not shout his name to the people when he +hath important affairs to perform," I replied. + +"If there is aught I can do for you, young master," he said, "say the +word, and John Sturgeon is at your command." + +I had measured my man rightly. Vain as a peacock when sober, and a fool +in the bargain when his brains were muddled by drink, I saw that I could +work my will with him if I played my game carefully. + +We were passing by a gloomy building as we spoke, and he noted my +interest in it. + +"The gaol, young master, the gaol. Would you like to see it? To-morrow I +will be at your service, and I will show you, ay, I will show you the +beauteous daughter of Master John Leslie." + +"To-morrow," I replied slowly: "to-morrow I ought to be far from +Bedford, Master Sturgeon; yet methinks the king would be interested to +know that I saw the woman safely guarded. As you said some time ago, had +General Monk been killed, Lambert would have been master, and then I +doubt much if Charles would have been brought back. You say you have no +one above you in this gaol, Master Sturgeon? You are the sole master +here?" + +"Ay, the sole master," he replied with pride. "Any command I make is +obeyed. Either in town or county gaol, John Sturgeon is chief man." + +"Then would I visit the gaol, and see this woman before I go to bed +to-night," I made answer. + +I saw that my request had startled him. Perhaps doubts came into his +mind concerning my request. Perhaps never in his life had he a prisoner +of such importance. Mostly the people under his care would be thieving +vagrants, or perhaps occasionally some low-browed murderer. This woman, +however, made him realize his importance more than ever. She was the +daughter of one of the chief men in the neighbourhood, and the +importance of her capture was not confined to the little town in which +he lived. + +"I would rather it should be to-morrow if it please you, young master," +he said presently, and I could see that his judgment, muddled as it was +by drink, was still sufficiently clear to know that my request was not +unaccompanied by danger to him. + +"I do not think I need trouble you to-morrow," I replied. "If I desire +to see the gaol then, it is probable I shall be accompanied by one of +the justices of the town. But to-night all is quiet, and perchance I +might be enabled to take back a better report to London than if I saw +things under the guidance of a justice." + +"Oh, I will see to it, young master," he said hurriedly. + +"The turnkeys will be either drunk or asleep, but I can open all doors. +Come with me. Not but I would rather it had been to-morrow, for the ale +was strong, and try as I may I cannot help being sleepy." + +He led the way into the gaol courtyard, a small and--as I plainly saw in +the moonlight--an ill-kept place,--and then proceeded to open the door +which led into the building. + +The prison was as silent as death. In the distance I heard the noise of +those who were still at their carousals, as well as many whom we had +passed in the streets. Some were singing the songs which had been +composed about the coming of the king, others were quarrelling, while +others still were shouting in their drunken revelry; but here all was as +still as death. I saw that Master Sturgeon spoke truly when he said the +strong ale had got into his head. He fumbled much with his keys, and in +truth seemed wellnigh asleep. + +"You will speak well of me to the king, young master," I heard him +mumble; "ay, and you ought, for there is not in all the realm a more +zealous subject of his Majesty. God save the king!" + +"How many gaolers have you here?" I asked, my heart beating fast, for +now that I had once entered the prison the reality of what I was trying +to do came to me with more vividness than ever. + +"How many?" he replied solemnly, "not many; besides, doth not the king +ride to London to-day? And have they not been drinking the king's +health, even as I have?" + +"And is it not right to drink the king's health?" I made answer. + +"Right? ay, that it is. Besides, a sup of ale would make me awake again. +Well thought of." + +Without even stopping to lock the door behind him, he made his way to a +room near the entrance, where after much ado, having lit a candle, he +found a jar of ale. + +"Jiggins of _The Bull_ says he brews the best ale in Bedford," he said, +"but this is better, this is better;" and he drank a deep draught. + +"Come and let me see the prisoner," I said, for I feared he would soon +be too drunk to render me any service. + +"Plenty of time, plenty of time," he said sleepily. "Let me pull myself +together a bit. Her door is the second on the right, and the key is +there," and he pointed to a key hanging on the wall. "I don't like +Master Leslie, he hath never treated me as one man of quality should +treat another; but I had to put her in the best cell. Oh, she hath a +good bed, and good victuals. For what saith her father? 'Nothing is +proved against her yet,' he saith, so I had to be careful. But you'll +tell the king, young master. It was because of me that she was taken, +and--but that ale is good; I will e'en have another drink." + +A minute after he sat down in an armchair which stood close to the open +fireplace. + +"A man may rest in his own room, king or no king," he went on with +sleepy gravity. "Besides, am I not the governor? Who dares ask me +questions? Even the justices say, 'Ah, we must leave all things to +Master Sturgeon.' And they may, they may. The king's most trusted +servant--that's what I am. Won't you drink, young master? There's no +hurry. Her door is close by, and the key is handy. I always see to that. +I always have my own keys for my own use. Ah, Master Leslie will soon +know who's master now! The father of Bedford, that's what I am." + +I let him wander on. If he had spoken truly there was no need of +interruption, for, as some one at _The Bull_ had said, there would be +few men in Bedford sober that night. The king had given commands that +the people should drink his health, and there was no reason to suppose +that they were slow in obeying his royal will. I doubted not that the +gaolers had made the most of the king's bounty, even as others had, and +if so, there was little fear of being disturbed. + +I saw that Master Sturgeon was regarding me in a dazed sort of way, as +though he wondered why I was there, but by this time the liquor had got +too strong a hold upon his brain for him to think of asking questions. +He lay back heavily in his chair, and I saw that he had great difficulty +in keeping his film-covered eyes open. A few minutes later he was fast +asleep, and I was in Bedford Gaol without a guide to conduct me whither +I would go. + +Taking the key he had indicated from the nail on which it hung, I made +my way out of the room, holding the candle in my hand. But Master +Sturgeon paid no heed to me, and to all appearances he would sleep for +many hours to come. + +Once outside the door, I carefully turned the key in the lock, and then +I silently walked along the passages, taking care, however, to make no +sound. It was seemingly in my power to set at liberty every prisoner in +the gaol, but I thought not of them. All my interest was centred in the +woman whom I had accompanied from Folkestone Town to Pycroft Hall. +Indeed, I doubt if there were many prisoners to be liberated, for I had +heard at the inn that all save those who had committed serious crime had +been liberated in order to shew forth the king's clemency. + +At the second door I stopped and listened. All was silent as death. Not +a sound was heard in the whole dark gloomy building. Even the noise of +the revellers from the outside did not reach me here. I did not stop to +consider the danger of carrying out the plan that had been born in my +mind. I did not consider that if I was caught in the act of seeking to +liberate Constance Denman my own liberty would be at stake. I was simply +filled with an eager desire to look on her face again, to hear her +voice, and to give her liberty. All the fears and doubts which haunted +me through the day troubled me no longer. The madness of thus seeking +out a woman of whom I knew so little troubled me not one whit. My heart +was young and warm, and at that moment the desire to find the king's +marriage contract with Lucy Walters was of far less importance to me +than to befriend the woman who was accused of trying to murder General +Monk. + +As I said, I stopped and listened intently. The candle in my hand cast +flickering shadows along the gloomy passage in which I stood. The air +felt cold and dead. The silence was unearthly, and only the beating of +my own heart broke the stillness of the night. + +I did not knock at the door at once. What, I reflected, if Master +Sturgeon was not as drunk as he appeared? What if he awoke, and +discovered that I had locked him in his room? Would he not cry aloud, +and arouse some sleepy official, who would be doubtless within call? +Loose as had been the discipline in prisons since the coming of the king +had been proclaimed, there must be still some semblance of order +remaining. I therefore crept back to his door again and listened. Yes, +there could be no doubt about it. He was breathing heavily like a man +who would not awake for several hours. I therefore found my way back +again, and listened at the door in which he said the woman was +confined. + +Yes, there could be no doubt about it, there was a movement within. I +heard the rustle of a woman's dress. I heard some one sighing. I +listened if possible more silently, and heard a voice, a woman's voice. +I will write down what I heard, for although I deem it an ill-judged +act, as a rule, to repeat a woman's prayers, yet because it may shew +that I had reason for believing in the woman's innocence in spite of all +that had been said to her discredit, I will even do so. For the woman +was praying. + +"Great Judge of men," she said, "Thou who art God over all, and hast in +all ages been kind to those that trust in Thee, be pleased to deliver +me. For I am sorely set about with danger. Thou knowest the thoughts of +my heart, Thou understandest why I am brought to this condition. Thus +because Thou understandest all things I come to Thee with confidence. Be +pleased to set at nought the cunning devices of men, and even as the +doors of the prison were thrown open to the Apostles of old time, be +pleased to open the doors of my prison. But if it is Thy will that I +should suffer, help me to deport myself even as one who trusts in Thy +mercy through the merits of Christ, who died for the world." + +At this there was a silence, and after waiting a moment I made a slight +noise at the door, so that she might be prepared for my coming. Then I +put my lips to the keyhole, and spoke. "Be silent and fear not," I said +in a whisper. + +"Who is there?" I heard her say. + +"A friend," I replied, "be not afraid." + +Upon this I put the key in the door, and to my delight it opened wide. A +moment later I stood within the woman's prison house. + +Dim as was the light of the candle, for a moment it dazzled her eyes, so +that she could not see plainly, but ere long she made out who I was, and +then I saw that she was overcome with astonishment. + +"Master Rashcliffe!" she said in a frightened whisper. + +"Yes," I made answer. + +"How came you here?" + +"To deliver you--if I can." + +For a moment she seemed too overwhelmed for further speech, but +presently I saw that she conquered her astonishment, and I thought I saw +that half-angry half-defiant look which I had detected when I first +overtook her on the road outside Folkestone. + +"Do you know you run great danger?" she asked. + +"Perhaps," I replied, for somehow her presence seemed to make me slow of +speech. + +"Then what led you to enter these walls?" + +"I have told you," I replied. + +"But how could you gain entrance?" + +"Another time I will tell you, but there is no time now. Once outside +the town I can tell you concerning this and many other matters, but now +your liberty is my chief concern." + +She looked up into my face as though she would read the story of my life +therein, and as she did so I was able to see her more plainly than ever +it had been my lot to do. I saw now what the man at the inn had meant +when he said she was fair to look upon, for she possessed a beauty such +as I had never seen before. And yet she was different from the beauties +of Charles' Court, concerning whom I had heard my father speak. Hers was +the beauty of a woman who was as pure as the angels. Concerning this +many may smile, and say that I saw her with the eyes of foolish boyhood. +Yet although many years have passed since then, and although many harsh +judgments have been formed concerning the deed of which she was accused, +I hold fast to what I say. Her eyes had all the innocence of the eyes of +a child. Her face was as free from marks of passion and guilt as were +the faces of which artists dreamt when they painted pictures of the +Mother of Christ. Nevertheless, hers was not the face of a child. It was +strong and resolute. There was neither fear nor shrinking in her gaze as +she turned her eyes to my face. Wonder there was, even amounting to +astonishment, but there was more. I saw that this woman with such a +beauteous face was capable of deeds of daring and sacrifice. That Joan +of Arc, the story of whose deeds had so inspired my imagination years +before, was not capable of greater daring than she, and that this woman +would follow the call of God as faithfully as did the Maid of Orleans +more than two hundred years before. Moreover, her presence suggested no +weakness. I saw that though barely twenty years of age, she was not +weak, nor of delicate appearance. The blood of health coursed through +her veins. Her hands were firm, the light of her eyes burned steadily. +Moreover, she was not cast in a small mould, rather she was taller than +most women, and was perfectly proportioned. + +All this I saw at a glance even although it has taken me some time to +set it down on paper, and if I had ever hesitated in my determination to +save her from the doom which awaited her, it had now flown to the winds. +For I knew that her life was not worth a silver groat. General Monk had +determined on her death, and in spite of all talk about the king's +clemency, it was freely said that he would shew no mercy on those who +had aught to do with his father's death. Moreover, as it was given out +that both Sir Charles Denman and Master Leslie were much implicated in +this matter, the woman who was so closely connected with them both could +expect no mercy. + +"You know the meaning of what I told you when we stood together outside +Pycroft Hall," she said quietly. "You know of what I am accused now?" + +"Yes." + +"And you believe it?" + +"I believe nothing unworthy of you." + +"But you have heard of the proofs?" + +"Ay, I have heard; but I know nought of them. They are nothing to me. I +promised to befriend you, and I have come to fulfil my promise." + +"But can you?" + +"Ay, I can." + +I meant what I said, for at that moment all difficulties appeared as +nothing. + +"You can take me outside these prison walls?" + +"Ay." + +"And after that?" + +"After that I know not. Perhaps you have plans in your own mind, but if +you have not I can save you." + +Perhaps the confident way in which I spoke gave her courage; moreover, I +saw by the flash in her eyes that she comprehended what to many other +women would have seemed mysterious. For she was no woman of dull +intelligence, but one who thought quickly and to purpose. + +"If I can reach my father's house I am safe," she said. + +"Your father's house? That surely is the first place men will go when +they hear of your escape from here." + +"Nay, it is not. They will never believe that I should go thither now. +If they do, it will not matter; I shall be safe there, and even my +father will not know of my presence." + +"You have trusty servants, and there are secret places at Goodlands," I +said. + +She gave me a glance which made my heart burn, although I knew not why. + +"But for an accident I should have taken refuge there," she said. "While +I was at Pycroft it was given out that I had been recognized in the +neighbourhood, and endeavours were made to capture me. So I made my way +to Dorking, where I made myself known to those whose business it was to +take me. But I escaped from there, leaving no trace behind, and hoped to +reach my father's house." + +"But how did you do this?" + +"I have many friends." + +"But why did you make yourself known at Dorking?" + +She looked at me steadily and seemed on the point of speaking; but no +word escaped her lips. + +"And did Sir Charles Denman accompany you?" I said. + +"No," she replied, and there was, as I thought, anger in her tones. "No, +he did not." + +Why it was I did not know, but I rejoiced at this. + +"And you do not know where he is now?" + +"No, I do not know," she answered. + +She paused a moment, and although it was a joy beyond the telling to be +with her and hear her speak, it came to me that not a moment was to be +lost if I was to lead her to liberty. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE ESCAPE + + +"There is no time for further questioning," I said, "even although there +are many things I would ask you;" and then in a few words I told her how +I had been able to come thither. She said no word while I spoke to her +concerning this, not even to ask a question; nevertheless what I said +convinced her that never again would she have such a favourable +opportunity of escaping, so without any ado we found our way outside the +gaol without a single mishap. Indeed, so easy was the escape from +Bedford Gaol that I have wondered many times since concerning our good +fortune. But as I have said, the coming of the king, and the carousals +consequent thereupon, had caused many things to be turned topsy-turvy, +so that we got outside the prison gates without so much as a single word +spoken to us. For that matter, I believe that no man save Master +Sturgeon ever dreamed that I had entered the place, and no man knew when +I went out. + +Once outside the prison gates she drew a deep breath, and then I saw her +lips move as if in prayer. She had brought a cloak with her, which she +now threw over her head, and then she hurried rapidly into the street. +We were in the very heart of the town, yet saw we no man, for the time +was now past midnight, and most of the revellers had gone to sleep. + +"Which way would you go?" I asked. + +"Along the Woburn Road," she whispered. "But stay, we must not go as +though we were followed. May I take your arm, Master Rashcliffe?" + +I felt every fibre of my body tingle as her hand rested on my left arm, +and I felt that it should go hard with the man who tried to take her +from me. I saw to it, therefore, that my sword was loose in its sheath, +and that my pistols were easy to command. + +"If once we can cross the river we shall be safer, I think," she said. +"The town lies this side the river, and once away from the bridge we +shall be less likely to meet any who might molest us." + +The night was quiet, I remember. Not a breath of wind stirred, and the +moon having been hidden by the passing clouds, there was but little +light. + +We had not gone above twenty paces along the road, which I think the +townspeople called the High Street, when we met two men, who, as I +judged, were people of authority. + +"Who are you and where go you?" one asked. + +"Who are you, and where go you?" I retorted quickly. + +"Who am I?" he asked. "I am the town clerk. Now tell me who you are." + +"Sir William Bilton is the chief man in Bedford," said my companion in a +whisper. + +I caught her meaning, and spoke as loudly as I dared. "If a guest of Sir +William Bilton may not walk through the town to see how it behaves on +the day when the king arrives in London without being stopped by the +town clerk, it is passing strange," I answered. "Moreover, I will see to +it that he knows concerning the matter." + +The man's tone changed in a moment. "I hope no offence, young master," +he said humbly. "Will you be pleased to pay my humble respects to Sir +William, and to tell him that I only seek to do my duty?" + +"That is very well," I answered in a tone of offended dignity. "I find +no fault with a zealous officer of the town, nevertheless I thought a +man in your position could distinguish between a drunken brawler and a +man of quality." + +"I crave your pardon, worshipful sir," he said, "but I have had much +trouble to-night, for nearly every constable and night watchman is +drunk. Therefore, although there is much licence at such a time, yet for +the good name of the town I must e'en do my duty." + +"Ay, I see that, and I will at the first opportunity I have tell Sir +William what a faithful town clerk he has. Moreover, you may not take a +crown amiss with which to drink the king's health, also that of Sir +William." + +A moment later we were left alone again, and then we walked slowly down +the street. Had I been alone I think I should have hastened, but my +companion pressed my arm, and bade me in a whisper to go slowly. + +I heard the two men talking together, as though they doubted who we +were, but presently they decided to go on their way, and great was my +delight as I heard their retreating footsteps. + +A minute later we reached the river, which was crossed by means of a +roughly built bridge. I noted that the river ran slowly here, and was +perchance a little more than forty yards wide. On our left was a dark +building, which looked grim and forbidding, standing as it did upon the +river bank. + +"That is the town gaol," said my companion. "I hoped when I was taken +that I should have been imprisoned there. Then would I have escaped two +days ago." + +"How?" I asked. + +"I would have crept out by one of the windows, and swum across the +river," she answered. + +"But how could you have crept out by the windows?" + +"There are those within that gaol who would do aught for me," she +answered. + +This she said as we crossed the bridge, eagerly looking around her as +she spoke. + +We still kept straight on, perhaps a hundred yards or more, when she +suddenly took a turning to the right. + +"And where go we now--Lady Denman?" I asked. + +She gave a start, and then stood still as I mentioned her name. + +"Nay, not that," she said almost hoarsely. + +"It is not easy to speak to you unless I call you by your name," I said. + +"Nay, but call me not by his name. He hath been the cause of all our +troubles!" + +She said these words with such bitterness of voice that she might not +have been the same woman who had been speaking a few moments before. + +"But he is your husband," I said almost brutally. + +She hesitated a few seconds, and then, still holding my arm, she walked +by my side along the road. + +"There be many reasons which lead a woman to call a man husband," she +said. "Not every woman loves the man whose name she bears, and--" here +she stopped again like one who seemed to fear she had said too much. +"Besides," she went on, "certain subjects are painful. I can go faster +if you wish." + +"I am sorry if I have said aught to make you angry with me, Lady----" + +"Constance," she said; "call me Mistress Constance. Nay, you have done +nought to make me angry. Hark! what is that?" + +We were now outside the town, and houses were not so plentiful; +nevertheless, here and there cottages were scattered, and from some of +the windows I saw flickering lights. What we heard was the sound of +footsteps and the shout of men's voices. + +"They come towards us, not after us," I heard her murmur. + +"Perchance there is an alehouse on the road," I suggested, "and these +are men who have been drinking there." + +"There is an alehouse; but listen----" + +We stopped and listened, and I felt sure I was right in my conjecture. + +"Am I a constable," I heard one say, "and shall I see such goings on? I +tell you, you are drunk!" + +"Ay, I am, and so are you, Master Blewitt. The man who is not drunk +to-day is not worthy to be called an Englishman. It is only Puritans and +women who are not drunk. Ah, we had not been so drunk if Master Leslie's +daughter had not been safely in gaol. Had Master Leslie been able to +hold up his head he would have done much to keep the town sober, king or +no king." + +"Ay, that is the worst of these Puritans, and that is why I am glad the +king hath come back. There will be no sin in getting drunk now, nay, nor +no sin in kissing a pretty girl. Down with the Puritans, I say, and to +the gallows with Master Leslie's pretty daughter." + +"Nay, 'twould be a pity to put a piece of rope around such a pretty +neck." + +"What, man! You never saw her neck." + +"Ay, but I did, and her face too. I never saw it till she was brought to +the river's bank. But I saw it then, and I shall never forget it. Ay, I +would know it among ten thousand." + +I felt Mistress Constance grasp my arm more tightly with her right hand, +while with her left she drew her mantle more closely around her face. + +"Shall we go back?" she asked. + +"What, towards the prison?" + +"Oh no--let us go on." + +Indeed we could do nought else, for the men had caught sight of us by +this time, and I heard one man exclaim, "Ay, here is a man and a wench +coming!" + +"Do not fear," I whispered: "there be but three, and they are wellnigh +drunk. If the worst comes to the worst I will fight them all--and +meanwhile you can escape." + +I felt her shiver, even while her fingers gripped my arm still more +tightly. Brave as she was, she was still a woman, who shrank from being +brought into contact with brutal and profane men. + +"Do not leave me if you can help it," she whispered, and then she seemed +to master herself, and we walked boldly towards them. + +"Good morrow," said one of the men. + +"Good morrow," I replied. + +"And whither go you?" + +"That is my business." + +"Ay, and mine too. Know you I am a constable and carry a truncheon? +Come, tell me who you are." + +"Ay, and let the wench show us her face," said another. + +"Ay, and let her give us a kiss," said the third. + +My anger was getting the better of me now, for not only did they say +what I have written down, but much more, which must have been sorely +distasteful to Mistress Constance's ears. + +Without any more ado, therefore, I drew my sword. + +"The man who approaches a step nearer will have to swallow six inches of +steel," I said. + +Drunk as they were they started back. One, however, who did not seem +quite as drunk as the others, eyed us closely. + +"Now, then, Peter Blewitt," he said, "you boast that you are a brave +man, and you carry a truncheon. At him! At him!" + +But Peter Blewitt did not move. + +"And you say you are never frightened!" sneered the other. "You say that +you will take me to the lock-up. You! you haven't the courage of a +bantam cock!" + +This seemed to sting the drunken constable, for he made as though he +would come towards me, and throwing off Mistress Constance's hand, I +seized a pistol, and held it towards them. + +"Unless you go your way I shoot," I cried. + +"Now then, Peter Blewitt, surely you are not afraid of a boy's popgun? +At him, man! at him!" + +With drunken gravity the constable drew his truncheon and came towards +me. I was loth, great as the danger was, to use my weapons, for though I +had been trained to the use of both, I had never had occasion to defend +myself by them before. In this case my hesitation almost led to my +undoing, for the feel of the truncheon having evidently given the +constable fresh courage, he rushed upon me suddenly, and struck at me +with all his might. He did not miss me by more than six inches, and had +I not slipped aside, I should have been completely at his mercy, for he +was a strong man. As it was, however, he missed me completely, and not +only that, but wellnigh fell down at my feet. Peter Blewitt's action, +however, proved an example for the others. + +"I'll see who the wench is, pistol or no pistol," I heard one say, and I +saw him seize Mistress Constance's cloak, and try to pull it aside. + +At this I hesitated no longer, but struck at him with my sword. Whether +the blade cut its way through the man's thick clothes I know not, but he +dropped his arm in a moment, and then, carried away by my desire to be +rid of them, I lifted my left arm and fired. I have been told since that +the bullet only grazed the man's shoulder, but he cried out like one in +the death agony. "I'm killed, I'm killed! Help!" he cried. + +At this he took to his heels, and flew as though the furies were at his +heels, while the others, apparently frightened at the report of the +pistol, followed him howling at the top of their voices. + +"Are you hurt?" asked Mistress Constance. + +"No; and you are safe!" + +"Yes. The man did not see my face. Come, let us go." + +We hurried along the road for it may be five minutes; then she stopped. + +"There is a stile here somewhere," she said. "I am sure we have not +passed it. Ah, there it is." + +She leaped lightly over it, and then followed the windings of a +footpath. Through two fields we passed together without speaking, then +she turned on me suddenly. + +"Thank you, Master Rashcliffe," she said; "you are a brave man." + +"What do you mean?" I stammered. + +"I am safe now. You need not fear for me any more. I thank you from the +depths of my heart." + +"But you are not arrived at your destination yet." + +"No, but I shall be there soon. You see those trees? Once behind them I +am safe." + +"But----" + +"It will not be well for you to come farther, Master Rashcliffe. You +need not fear for me. Forgive me if I desire to be alone. It is not +because I am not grateful. You have saved me from death, a terrible +death. Good-bye. We shall never meet again." + +My heart grew cold within me. "You have told me nothing," I stammered. +"That is, the time may come when I can be of--that is, I desire to be +your friend, even as I told you more than a week ago at--that is, on the +night I saw you first." + +"No, no. I had better tell you nothing. If I am not taken prisoner +again--which I shall not be; no, I will die first!--you will never see +me more. But I will pray for you, pray that God will preserve you and +give you happiness. But tell me," she cried, and it seemed as though she +had remembered something else, "can you get away in safety? You must +have had difficulty in coming to me." + +"There is no need to fear for me, Mistress Constance," I said, fearing +to give her pain on my account, and thus saying words which I was far +from being sure of. "I will get away from Bedford without any man being +the wiser, and you need not fear that I will ever tell any man that I +have seen you. But I thought not to part from you so soon. There are +many things I would ask of you. Much hath happened since I saw you last, +and perchance you can give me an explanation." + +"I can tell you nothing, nothing." + +"But you spoke to that old man. You knew him, I saw him also. I had +speech with him, and I would know who he was. The knowledge would +advantage me much." + +"No, no, I must not, I dare not. Good-bye. I thank you beyond words for +what you have done, and you need not fear for me. I am safe now. I can +hide while search is being made. After that I shall find a home in +another land." + +"Another land?" + +"Ay. There can be no longer a home in England for such as I. Good-bye." + +Again she held out her hand, and in so doing she allowed her cloak to +drop, so that I saw her face again, and again my heart grew warm as I +saw it. + +"I cannot let you go like this," I said. "Perchance you will need help +again. If you do, then I desire to be at your side to render such +service as may lie in my power." + +"Why should you?" she asked. "I am a stranger to you. Our pathways have +strangely crossed each other, and you have been kind to me. For this I +thank you, oh, so much! but we can never meet again. Our paths lie +apart. I dare not show my face to my country people. I am a Dissenter. +My father is hated of the new king, while I"--here her voice grew hoarse +and harsh--"I attempted to kill the man whose actions brought him back. +Do you realize that, Master Rashcliffe? Since that day I have been +hunted as though I were a mad dog. Since that day I have had to adopt +all sorts of disguises. I have had to hide in secret places, sometimes +alone, sometimes in the company of a man who--who made me do his will, +even when my heart grew sick at the thought of it." + +"Then you need a friend all the more. I know nothing of the history of +your marriage with Sir Charles Denman, and----" + +"Do not seek to know it," she cried passionately. "I shall escape now. +Since God hath led you to deliver me from Bedford Gaol, even when hope +had died within my heart, will He forsake me now?" + +"No, but if you need me?" I cried. "Will you not promise to send for me +if you need me?" + +"Is that your desire? Knowing what you know of me, do you wish to +endanger yourself for me?" + +"Does not my presence in Bedford to-night prove it?" + +"But how may that be? Where can I send?" + +"There is a man near St. Paul's Cross who keeps an inn called the +_Virgin Queen_," I made answer. "He was once a servant of my father's. +His name is Caleb Bullen. I will speak to him directly I return to +London, and if you send a letter to me in care of him it will surely +reach me." + +I saw that she looked steadily towards me as I spoke, and I thought she +hesitated. + +"When I need help I will send to you. But stay! I may need protection +from my--husband. Will you shield me from him?" + +She said this bitterly, and as she spoke my heart became hard. Why +should I seek to befriend the wife of another man? Was not her place at +his side? Then I remembered the way he spoke to her in the inn at +Folkestone, and while I pitied the woman, I felt like hating the man. + +"I will help you against all who would harm you," I said. + +She grasped my hand convulsively. + +"God protect you and preserve you," she said; and then before I realized +what she had done, I saw her speeding swiftly across the meadows towards +the trees she had spoken of. + +I started to follow her, but deemed such an action to be unwise; +therefore I stopped and listened. Full five minutes did I wait, but not +a sound did I hear. She had disappeared from my view as though she were +a shadow of the night. For a time she seemed but the creature of one's +dreams, and the events of the night only the imaginings of a disordered +mind. Yet I knew it was not so. + +Presently, drawn by a curiosity which I was unable to overcome, I went +towards the group of trees I have spoken of, and presently I saw a large +house wellnigh hidden by much foliage. After that I stayed not a minute, +but hurried back with all speed towards Bedford. + +The reason for this will be plain. While I was with Mistress Constance, +my one thought was to ensure her safety, but directly I was convinced +that she had found a refuge, I realized my own danger. It came upon me +with great suddenness that I must leave the town within an hour. I knew +that the woman's flight from the gaol might be discovered any moment, +and thus I should, if I were not careful, be drawn into a net of +difficulties. It would be easy to raise the hue and cry, and then I +should nowhere find rest for the sole of my foot. I realized that the +carousals consequent upon the coming of the king had allowed me to +effect her escape. At no other time would it have been possible to have +done such a thing. But vigilance had been suspended, and every turnkey +had deemed it his duty to become drunk in the king's honour. In this +also lay my hope for escape from Bedford that night. + +My work, therefore, was to get into the town with all speed, to saddle +Black Ben in secret, and to ride away before any man should become aware +of my whereabouts. If Master Sturgeon were still asleep this might be +easy, for I had taken care to examine the exits from the stable at the +time when I had taken up my quarters at _The Bull_. Moreover, Black Ben, +although I wished he had many more hours' rest, had been well fed, and +would by this time be ready for a gallop. It is true I had ridden him +sixty miles, but his staying power was wonderful, and I knew he would go +till he dropped. + +It did not take me long to reach _The Bull_, where I found the carousers +still lingering. It struck me, however, that something of importance had +happened. The drinkers were not singing and shouting, but talking +eagerly. + +"You say she hath escaped?" I heard some one say. + +"Ay." + +"What, from the county gaol?" + +"Ay, and Master Sturgeon is murdered." + +"Murdered!" + +"It is thought that some friend of Master Leslie's found his way into +the gaol, and did away with him." + +"And the woman is gone?" + +"So it is said. I am going thither to see. I heard the news only a +minute ago." + +"Who told thee?" + +"One of the night watchers, and he had it from one of the turnkeys." + +All this time I stood in the yard of _The Bull_ beneath an open window. + +"Stay, I will go with thee," said one. + +"Ay, and I would too," said another, "but I am too drunk." + +"Ay, and I too," said another, "and whether Master Leslie's wench hath +escaped or no, I will e'en drink till daylight." + +With that two or three left the inn, while I cautiously found my way +into the stable. + +I knew that if I did not get away within the next few minutes my +liberty, and perhaps my life, could not be valued at a silver groat. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +HOW I LEFT BEDFORD + + +If ever a man worked quickly and silently it was I. In less time than it +takes me to tell I had thrown Black Ben's saddle across his back and +buckled the girths thereof. As the saddle-bags contained nought of +value, I had no trouble with them, and before a minute had passed away +the bridle was around my horse's head. + +"Come, my boy," I whispered, "there is a hard gallop before you, so we +must haste." + +Whether he understood me or no I dare not say, but he whinnied as though +he knew my will, and followed my lead into the yard. I had opened the +gate on entering, and it had struck me, even as I had done this, how +easy it would have been for a horse-thief to enter the stable and take +whatever nag he pleased, as far as the ostler was concerned. Not that I +troubled about Black Ben, for no man but myself had been on his back +since he was foaled, neither, for that matter, dare any man do this. For +while he was obedient to my hand, and was as gentle as a lamb with me, +he would not suffer another to mount him. In truth, the ostler was +afraid of him when I brought him in, neither would Black Ben have +allowed him even to bring his corn had I not spoken to him, and bidden +him be quiet. I had no fear, therefore, that any man would steal him. +Thus when I unfastened the stable gate with so much ease, I had no fear +that I should not find him waiting for me. + +As I led him out into the yard Black Ben pricked up his ears, as though +he heard strange sounds, and on seeing this my heart sank in my shoes, +for I heard a number of people running, and as far as I could judge +they were coming towards the inn. + +"Where is he? Is he gone?" + +"Where is who gone?" + +This question was asked by some one who stood by the front door of the +inn. + +"The young stranger from London." + +"Why, what hath he done?" + +"Spirited away Master Leslie's daughter. Where is he?" + +"In bed hours ago, I expect. He drank nought, but just listened to what +the rest were saying." + +"Hath he paid his count?" + +"Nay. He hath had nought but boiled beef for his supper, and a pint of +ale to wash it down. That is but a little matter. Then when he hath paid +for his bed and breakfast, he will owe me but a crown." + +"But is he in bed?" + +"Nay, I know not. This is not a time to know whether a man be in bed or +no. Every man hath desired to drink the king's health, and so I have +e'en been kept busy drawing ale. But I will send and find out." + +"Ay, send and find out. But did you not see him go away with Master +Sturgeon?" + +"That did I not. Have I not told you that I have been over-busy +to-night?" + +"Well, he must be found. It is he who hath spirited away Master Leslie's +daughter." + +"Nay, man, how could he do that?" + +"He wellnigh killed Master Sturgeon, locked him in the county gaol, took +his keys, and liberated the maid. I tell you he hath done this." + +"A pretty cock-and-bull story!" + +"But I tell you he hath. One of the turnkeys was found sober enough to +unlock the governor's door, and after he woke him, Master Sturgeon told +the turnkey that he had been imprisoned by the young stranger from +London." + +"Say that Queen Mary hath come to life again. I tell you, you be all too +drunk to know the truth of this." + +"Not so, Master Jiggins; we have been drinking as men should, but we be +not so drunk as that. Besides, Master Fulton--the town clerk, saw a man +and a woman together not far from the gaol, but he did not think it +could be Master Leslie's daughter, because the man claimed to be the +friend of Sir William Bilton, and, as you know, Sir William despises +Master Leslie as every Quaker rascal should be despised." + +At this moment some one must have spoken to Master Jiggins from within, +for I heard him say, "The chambermaid hath it that no one is in the +young stranger's bedchamber." + +"Then hath he escaped. But we must find him. The town clerk hath it that +ten guineas will be given to him who will lay hands on him." + +"But where is the warrant for this?" + +"Master Fulton's word is enough warrant, Master Jiggins. But stay, he +hath a horse. Is the horse in the stable?" + +At this I knew that what I did must be done quickly. I was therefore on +Black Ben's back before they could enter the yard by the door of which I +had been hiding while they were speaking. + +"Here he is!" cried the man who had been chief spokesman, and he made a +dash at the horse's head. + +"At him, my boy!" I cried, and the faithful animal darted at the fellow +with open mouth. + +In spite of themselves the crowd made way for me as I dashed through. +Partly, I suspect, because they were not sure who I was, and partly +because Black Ben careered so wildly that no man dared to approach him. + +"Your count, you blackguard, your count!" I heard Master Jiggins say, +who evidently cared more about that than the recapturing of Mistress +Constance. Indeed, I heard in after days that Master Jiggins had a warm +affection for Master Leslie, and rejoiced that she had escaped from the +hands of the drunken governor. + +I threw him a couple of crowns as I dashed away. + +"That is double what you would have asked, Master Jiggins," I cried, and +then I laughed aloud, for the whole pack of them--and there must have +been at least twenty of them--stood open mouthed even while I rode away. +Never did I realize how silly a number of drunken men could be, and how +easy one who had kept his head clear could deal with them. Through the +whole night I had worked my will because of the king's command that +every man should drink his health, and now at the last I rode away +unscathed, having accomplished the thing I had come to Bedford to +perform. + +It was no wonder, therefore, that I should laugh. The spirit of +adventure was hot within me, and now that I sat upon Black Ben's back, I +knew that unless they had firearms no man could harm me. For although he +had travelled from London to Bedford that day, I knew that now he had +had a few hours' rest and a good feed of corn, he could do the whole +journey back again and be none the worse for it. Moreover, I doubted if +there was a horse in Bedford which could overtake me. + +"After him! after him!" I heard some one shout. "He hath flouted us, and +laughed in our faces." + +Then I heard a louder cry, followed by a silence as though some one in +authority had come upon the scene. I longed to shout back, so as to put +them upon a false track, but reflected that the least said was the +soonest mended, so I gave Black Ben rein, and before long was out of +both sight and hearing of Bedford town. + +Had I known then that I should soon see Bedford again under different +circumstances, I do not think I should have been so light of heart. But +coming events do not always cast their shadows before them, in spite of +old women's wisdom; and so, feeling my good horse beneath me, and seeing +the hedges fly by me as he dashed along the road, I felt that I had +nought to fear. + +Besides, I had succeeded far beyond my expectations. I felt sure that +Mistress Constance was safe, for I knew that she was one who spoke not +lightly, and as I remembered what she told me in the prison I knew that +she was even then in some secret hiding-place, watched over by a +faithful servant, and that perhaps even her father knew not what had +become of her. + +[Illustration: "I gave Black Ben rein, and before long was out of both +sight and hearing of Bedford Tower."] + +As may be imagined, I rode straight towards London. Had it been safe I +think I should have stayed near Bedford, so that I might in case of need +have rendered help to Mistress Constance. But I reflected that I should +do more harm than good by staying there, and in spite of passing doubts +I felt sure that she was safe. Moreover, London was the place I desired +to be in. It would be difficult for any man from Bedford to find me +there, and I had plans in my mind which I hoped would forward the +schemes which had been formulating there. I also wanted to see my father +again, and to know what he had been doing since we parted at Canterbury. + +I had not long left Bedford before morning began to dawn, and by the +time I had reached the town of Hitchin it was broad daylight. Much as I +desired to rest here, both for the sake of Black Ben as well as myself, +I rode straight on, barely entering the town, but taking a narrow and +somewhat unfrequented road instead. Not a soul did I meet, and this +pleased me much, because, in case of pursuers, no one would be able to +give information. When I had covered half the distance between Hitchin +and St. Albans, I stopped by a wayside inn for an hour, keeping a sharp +look-out on the road all the while. By noon I had reached St. Albans, +but I did not stay here, pushing on instead to the town of Barnet, where +I deemed myself safe from pursuit. Moreover, having once arrived at +Barnet, I found the roads so full of travellers, who were on their way +to London to join in the revels, as well as others coming from them, +that my presence could not call for any comment. Nevertheless, I was +very thankful when I reached the _Virgin Queen_, an inn close by St. +Paul's Cross, where I gave my horse in charge of Caleb Bullen, an +old-Ptime and faithful servitor of my father's. + +I spent two days in London trying to find my father, as well as taking +part in the festivities which were held, but although I went everywhere +that the public gathered, never once did I catch a glimpse of my father, +neither did I meet with any man who had seen aught of him. I concluded +therefore that he had again returned home, and had settled down to the +old quiet life. Much as I wanted to see him I deemed it wise not to go +thither. First, because if any at Bedford had by any means whatsoever +become acquainted with my name, they might place watchers there; and +second, because I knew that by going home I should put myself outside +the possibility of hearing whatever news might be stirring. I therefore +counted the crowns which I still possessed, and, finding that I had +enough for my needs, I remained at the _Virgin Queen_, and partook of +the good fare which Caleb Bullen provided. + +For a week London town was a scene of constant gaiety, for although the +great rejoicing took place on the day when the king rode into London, it +took the people a full week to settle down to the ordinary course of +life. The playhouses which Oliver Cromwell had closed were all open, +while seemingly all traces of the old Puritan life which had grown up +under the great Protector were swept away in a day. Laws were relaxed, +and the old stern system of morals was not only broken, but laughed at +as unworthy of a free people. + +It was not until the fourth day after I had come back to London that I +heard it declared that Master Leslie's daughter had escaped from prison, +and that in spite of every endeavour to discover her hiding-place, she +had not been found. It was said, moreover, that her escape had been +brought around by a friend of Master Leslie's, who had succeeded in +putting a sleeping potion in the drink of the gaolers, and had thus +succeeded in his plans. + +As may be imagined, this news caused me great satisfaction, most because +Mistress Constance was still at liberty, but also because no shadow of +suspicion rested upon me. The latter conviction was, however, rudely +shaken when at the end of a week I was told that two men had been at the +_Virgin Queen_ inquiring after me. + +"What were they like?" I asked of Caleb Bullen, who I knew was my +faithful friend. + +"They were gaily attired, Master Roland. They wore swords by their +sides, and long feathers in their caps." + +"And you took them to be men of quality?" + +"Ay, I should judge so," replied Caleb thoughtfully. "They swore much, +talked much, laughed much, and drank much wine, so I judged they were of +gentle blood. They mentioned great names with much freedom, and seemed +to know of all that was going on at Court." + +"But what did they say?" + +"They asked whether Master Roland Rashcliffe was living at the _Virgin +Queen_; whereupon I answered that you did, and that you were a good +customer, seeing you ate your victuals, drank your ale, and paid your +count without grumbling. Then they asked how long you had been staying +here, and I told them since the day of the coming of the king. Upon that +they said they would call again this evening at six by the clock, and +would I tell you that they would deem it polite of you not to go out at +that hour, as they would come on an affair of importance?" + +This, as may be imagined, set me to pondering gravely, but after careful +consideration, and asking Caleb Bullen many questions, I came to the +conclusion that they could have nought to do with the folks at Bedford. +I determined, therefore, that I would be in the inn at the time +mentioned, wondering all the time what they wanted of me. + +The clock at St. Paul's Cross had scarcely chimed six when I saw two +young men, dressed with much richness, and carrying themselves with a +jaunty air, enter the hall of the inn. + +"Hath Master Rashcliffe yet arrived?" one asked of Caleb Bullen. + +"Ay," replied mine host, pointing to me, whereupon with a great show of +ceremony they came to me. + +"Master Roland Rashcliffe," said the older of the two. + +"I am Roland Rashcliffe," I replied, looking at them closely, for I was +not yet free from fears that they had heard something of my doings at +Bedford. + +"We bring you greeting, Master Rashcliffe, and if it would cause you no +trouble we would see you alone in a place where we can speak without +interruption." + +I therefore led the way into a room where such quietness could be found, +and then, having bid them sit down near the window, I was able to get a +better view of them. They were both young men, not, as I judged, more +than thirty years of age, and I was not long in coming to the conclusion +that Caleb Bullen had judged rightly when he said they were men of +quality. Both were very richly attired in the kind of finery which came +into vogue directly the king returned and though, as I judged, both had +been drinking much wine, they carried their wine well, and shewed no +sign of loss of sense. + +"We hear you were at Dover when his Majesty landed Master Rashcliffe, +and that you impressed him favourably. It is better to be born lucky +than rich, for, by my soul, his Majesty hath had so many hangers on +since he entered his faithful London that none of us, save a very few of +his chosen ones, can get more than a nod or a wave of his hand." + +"I was indeed in Dover," I replied, "and a gay sight it was." + +"The king spoke graciously to you, we heard." + +"I was fortunate beyond my deserts." + +"Ah, say not so, say not so. Corks will swim, and those whom the gods +favour will obtain the smile of kings. We are even now here on an errand +which, if it means not royal favour, is so near to it that a man can +scarcely distinguish it from such." + +Again I examined them closely, and tried to guess from whence they came +and who sent them. + +"Ah, but we have come here like a couple of grooms," the spokesman of +the two went on. "But forgive us, Master Rashcliffe. Manners, like +everything else, need constant practice, and since these Dissenters and +Puritans have ruled the land, there hath been no opportunity of showing +courtesy due from one gentleman to another. To such a state hath these +rascally psalm-singing knaves brought us. Let me say, then, that the +name of my friend here is the Honourable John Burleigh, youngest son of +Lord Burleigh, while I am Stanley Carew, son of Sir William Carew, of +Cornwall." + +I bowed ceremoniously, even as they had done when they told me their +names. + +Upon this Master Stanley Carew looked around the room as though some one +was in hiding; then, upon being assured that we were alone, he went on-- + +"We have come to you from one of royal blood, Master Rashcliffe, with +royal commands." + +"From the king?" I asked. + +"Nay, not from the king, that is exactly, but doubtless this letter will +explain much to you." + +I took the letter, and noted that the paper was emblazoned with the +royal arms. It contained only these words: "_Master Roland Rashcliffe is +commanded to appear before us to-night at Whitehall at the hour of +eight._" + +The signature I could not at first make out, but on closer scrutiny I +discovered it to be signed by James, Duke of York. On lifting my eyes +from the paper, I saw that both my visitors were looking eagerly towards +me, as though they would make out what had been written to me, but, +knowing so little of them, I folded the missive and put it beneath my +doublet. + +"Doubtless you have received pleasant news, Master Rashcliffe?" said +Master Carew with a meaning smile. + +"News from those in high places should always be pleasant," I replied. + +"By the saints, no. And truly by the look on your face I judge that joy +doth not overcome you, Master Rashcliffe. Well, what then? A man of wit +must even use it to his own advantage. Moreover, doubtless the message +is of importance, seeing we were charged to deliver it into no hands but +your own. Is there aught in the way of information we can give you, +Master Rashcliffe?" + +Now this set me thinking. It became plain to me that they knew not the +contents of the letter; moreover, I judged that they sought to obtain +information concerning it, and thereby obtain power which they hoped +would be useful. + +"No," I replied, "I do not know that there are any questions that I +desire to ask." + +I saw the two exchange glances as I spoke, but Master Carew went on +quite glibly. "Then we shall have naught to do but take back your answer, +Master Rashcliffe." + +"Were you requested to take back an answer?" I queried. + +"For that matter, no, I do not think we were; still, we thought you +would doubtless desire to send a fitting reply." + +"As I understand it, no reply is needed, Master Carew," I replied. +"Nevertheless, I thank you for bringing me the letter, which I will lay +deeply to heart." + +After this they stayed some time, trying by many means to let drop some +hint concerning what they had brought me. But I deemed it best to keep a +still tongue, and when they presently left me, looking as I thought not +over pleased with the success of their visit, I called to mind that I +had said nothing which could in any way advantage them. + +Nevertheless, the letter gave me much food for anxious thought. Why +should the brother of the king desire to see me? To answer this I cast +my mind over my adventures since I had left my father's house, but only +one event led me to connect the Duke of York with them. That, as may be +remembered, was the speech of Master Rickmore and Master Hamilton on the +night when I had been dragged from my horse when riding from Canterbury +to London. I called to mind the words of the man Hamilton, who related +to the other what he said Duke James had said to him. "_By the Holy +Virgin get hold of the young rascal. Never let him out of your sight +until you have obtained all he hath found, and know all he can tell +you._" + +For a long time I sat thinking of this, and of many other things in +relation thereto, and the more I thought the more was I convinced that I +ran no little risk in obeying the Duke of York's command. On the other +hand, I could see that it would not be wise to refuse. The king's +brother was next to the king himself, and if the story of Lucy Walters +was false was the next heir to the throne. To refuse his commands, +therefore, would be nearly as bad as refusing those of the king himself. +It would moreover arouse suspicion, and might possibly lead to many +unpleasant results. + +But more than all this, I longed much to know what the duke would say to +me. I desired to find out the motives which prompted him to send for me. +I did not fear danger--thoughtless youth seldom apprehends that--but I +did ardently wish to discover what was in Duke James' mind. + +The clock of St. Paul's struck the hour of seven. I had not therefore a +minute to spare. It was half an hour's walk from St. Paul's Cross to +Whitehall, so I went to my bedchamber to bedeck myself in the best +finery I possessed, and ere long I was passing Fleet prison, on my way +to Whitehall. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +JAMES, DUKE OF YORK + + +The clocks of Westminster were striking eight as I drew near the place I +had been bidden to come in Whitehall. My heart beat fast at thought of +what might happen to me, and of the commands which might be laid upon +me, yet did I go on without faltering, for the more I wondered at the +happening the more did I desire to know why I was commanded thither. The +clock had barely ceased striking when a hand was laid upon my shoulder. + +"Master Roland Rashcliffe," a voice whispered in my ear. + +"You speak as if you know," I replied, and turning I saw a man of grave +demeanour, and of somewhat sad countenance. + +"Follow me. Ask no questions, and make no protest at aught you may see." + +This he also said in a whisper, and although I obeyed him I liked not +the secrecy of the business. As I passed along I noticed that many +people were around, and that all seemed to be in gay humour and in gay +attire. Truly the coming of the king had made a difference to London +town. The whole city seemed to be given over to pleasure, and none of +that solemn decorum which marked it a year before was now manifest. + +We had not gone far when we left Whitehall and entered the park which +lies behind. Here also were the same scenes of gaiety. Indeed, never had +I seen so many gaily-dressed women in my life before. The park was in +the summer of its loveliness, flowers bloomed on all sides, the trees +were in wellnigh full leaf, the birds sang, while loud laughter, both +among men and women, was to be heard continually. My companion paid no +heed to any of these things, however. He strode quickly along, stopped +at the door of one of the houses, and a minute later I stood behind him +in one of the great houses. Without hesitation he led the way upstairs, +and without ceremony entered a large room. As far as I could judge it +had been but lately fitted up, for the things I saw were new, and shone +with much splendour. Nevertheless, it did not look like a residence, but +rather appeared to be a place where a man of authority might gather his +friends around him. No one was in the room, and although it stood so +near to Whitehall the utmost silence reigned, except that I thought that +I heard whispering voices in an adjoining compartment. + +"Do not dare to oppose him," said the man who accompanied me; "assent to +all his commands, agree with all he saith, although your judgement will +lead you otherwise. Above all be silent as death afterwards. Remember, +he hath no mercy." + +"You speak of the Duke of York?" + +"I speak of the next king," he replied. "Therefore, do as I bid you, and +be wise. Be surprised at nothing you may hear, even if he saith things +that should not be heard by such a youth as you." + +He had scarcely finished speaking when two men entered the room. The one +was the Duke of York; I had seen him ride away in the king's coach by +the side of the king when he left Dover. His appearance, as I thought, +was changed. I thought then that he was, although of somewhat austere +countenance, pleasant to look upon. That night he looked angry and +cruel. His face was heavy, and, if I mistook not, besotted, but whether +he had been partaking freely of wine I could not tell. His companion's +face was hidden, and although I thought I detected something familiar in +his gait, I knew not who he was. + +"This is the youth?" + +"It is, Your Grace." + +The duke looked at me sternly and silently, as though he would read my +heart, and although I dared to lift my eyes to his but once, I thought +his eyes were bloodshot. Having seated himself, he bade me come near to +him. + +"Master Roland Rashcliffe?" he said. + +"Yes, Your Grace," I replied. + +"Tell me, boy, is your father an honest man?" + +The question was asked abruptly, as though he would take me unawares. + +"He fought for your father," I replied. + +"So did many a knave, until he thought he would gain by joining the +rebels." + +At this I was silent. + +"Why did he send thee to find out if there was any truth in the lying +story that his Majesty married the wench Lucy Walters?" + +"To discover the truth," I replied, for it seemed to me at that moment +as though there were nought else to say. + +At this he laughed, but the laugh was cruel, and never did I hear a +man's voice that had less mirth in it. + +"Well, what have you found?" he said presently. "You left your home many +days ago. You went to Folkestone, from thence you made a midnight +journey to a lonely house. Tell me how you fared, and what trophies you +possess as a result of your valour." + +At this I was silent, for in truth never did words appear more dangerous +than at this moment. + +"How now, sirrah! You do not speak!" + +King's brother though he was, he made me angry, and I resented the tones +he used towards me. + +"What, you do not answer me? Know you that you do wrong in making me +angry? I tell you it would be an easy matter to put another in the +already flowing prisons of England, and so I bid you beware. What did +you discover at the lonely house, and what did you bring away?" + +"You should already know, Your Grace," I replied boldly, for by this +time all my fear of him had gone. Perhaps my anger had driven it away. +If it had, it were no wonder, for had I been a lackey he could not have +spoken with less courtesy, while the thickness of his voice, and his +rheumy eyes, made me feel sure that he had been drinking heavily. + +"What mean you, young malapert?" he asked. + +"I mean that I was attacked by men who used your name when riding to +London," I answered; "that they dragged me from my horse, and searched +me to the skin. If I had possessed aught they would surely have brought +it to you." + +At this I was in doubt as to what course he would take. I saw the blood +mount to his cheek, and anger gleam from his eyes, while he lifted his +hand as if he would strike me. But this was only for a moment. Instead +of yielding to anger he burst into a great laugh, as though he had heard +a good joke. + +"Ha, ha!" he cried, "you discovered that you could do nought without +discovery, eh? You found out that the royal arm can strike far, eh? You +learnt that you cannot hunt in royal domains without being bitten by the +keeper's dogs? Is that not so, my young springald?" + +"The king's brother is not the king," I cried, for now I saw that unless +I would place myself entirely in his power I must take a bold course. + +"What mean you?" he cried. + +"I mean that when I have discovered aught that affects the king, I will +bear my message to the king," I replied, "but, until then, I will hold +my peace as a man should." + +"I have a good mind to send you to the dungeons." + +"If you did I should soon be a free man again," I replied. + +"And how is that?" + +"The king would soon hear that his brother threw a youth into prison +because that youth knew something that affected the king's honour," I +replied. "And the king, on hearing of this, would demand to see him, and +he would tell his Majesty many things." + +"Tut, tut, youth," he said, still gazing at me curiously. "Do not think +because you have answered me pertly that you have answered me wisely, +and do not imagine that although a man doth not wear a crown he hath no +power. Oh, I see how it is. You were carried away by what you saw when +the king came to London. You saw the London Corporation do his Majesty +homage at St. George in the Fields, you saw the streets all flaunting +with bunting, you beheld the twelve hundred velvet-coated lackeys, the +footmen in purple, and buff, and silver, and green, and blue; you heard +the trumpets sounding, the people shouting, and the clergy waiting to do +homage to their most gracious and Protestant king. I say, you saw all +this, while they took no notice of the heir-apparent. But it is not +always the man who wears the crown who reigns. Take our brother Louis +across the water. He wore the crown while a priest reigned. It was so +before him. Louis XIII, the man who was always tired, wore the crown, +but Richelieu ruled the land. But wait a little, Mazarin will die, and +then a change will come. Let me tell you something, young malapert. It +is the man with will and brains who reigns, whether he be the king or +the king's brother. Moreover, it is he who is not too much given over to +pleasure, and who holds the true faith." + +"Have a care, Your Grace, have a care," said the man who had accompanied +me hither, for he saw what by this time I was assured of, that the +king's brother had partaken of much wine. + +"Have a care for whom?" said the duke angrily. "Am I to be bearded by a +boy? Look you here, and remember," and his voice was thick as he spoke, +"the king's brother can bestow benefits as well as the king, remember +that, and the king's brother can reward those who are faithful. Besides, +the man who is only the king's brother to-day may be king next year. +Never forget. And think of something else. A man need not be anointed by +a bishop to alter a country's laws. Hath any law been passed against the +Presbyterians or Puritans or Dissenters? What saith the king? 'Justice +to all.' Yet even at this time hundreds of Presbyterians and Puritans +have been ousted from their pulpits, while Independents and Baptists +crowd our gaols. Who hath done this? 'Oh, no man hath done it,' is the +reply. It is all because the Episcopalians believe that now Charles +Stuart is come back they can e'en send the others apacking. But who +shall say they have heard no word from James Stuart?" + +"Your Grace! Your Grace!" + +"Ay, cannot a man speak his own mind? This boy is not a fool, and will +know how to be discreet. And now I have a word more to say. Have you, +Master Roland Rashcliffe, discovered aught concerning this supposed +marriage contract between the king and Lucy Walters?" + +"Yes," I replied, before I was well aware, and for which word I was +ready to bite my tongue out. + +"You have seen it?" and I noticed that he spoke more clearly, as though +my news had sharpened his wits. + +"I have seen that which purports to be what you inquire after," I +replied. + +Never did I see a man change more suddenly. He seemed to throw off the +effects of wine in an instant. + +"You have seen it? Where?" + +At this I was silent, for I felt not like giving away my secret. + +"Speak, Roland, I command you." + +I started, for it was my father's voice which I had heard, and then I +knew that it was he who had entered the room with the duke, and who had +hidden his face from me. + +"Father!" I cried. + +"Ay, it is I, Roland, and it is I who command you to tell his Grace what +he desires to know. I have told him nothing because I have seen nothing, +but it is my will that you tell him what you have seen." + +My father's presence set me wondering greatly. As I have said, I had not +seen him since my return to London, and now to discover that he had been +in communication with the king's brother staggered me. Rightly or +wrongly, I concluded that he could gain no hearing with his Majesty, and +so had sought an audience with the duke. + +"Remember," said the duke, "this story is lies from end to end. Yet I do +not say that some one hath not forged such a contract. Moreover, if such +a contract, although it is as valueless as the paper on which it is +written, were to pass from hand to hand, it would set gossips' tongues +wagging, and perchance unhinge affairs of state. You say you have seen +this. Where have you seen it?" + +In spite of myself I could not help pausing, and whether the king's +brother had fears concerning what I should do with my knowledge, or +whether he desired to enlist my friendship, I know not, but before I +could speak, he went on-- + +"Did you read it?" + +"Ay, I read it." + +"What did it say?" + +"It was a marriage contract between his Majesty and the Welsh girl, Lucy +Walters." + +"You can take your oath to this?" + +"I can take my oath that I read such words on a piece of parchment." + +"Signed by Charles Stuart?" + +"Ay, and by others." + +"Their names?" + +"Pierre Rousseau and François Abelard." + +"You swear this?" + +"I swear that I saw such a parchment." + +"But where? Tell me where?" + +"It was in such a strange place that I cannot describe it. Yet methinks +I could find it again." + +He seemed so carried away by what I had told him that he started to his +feet. + +"Find it, Master Roland Rashcliffe, and bring it to me. If you will do +this, you may depend on my smile all your life through." + +"Obey his Grace, Roland," said my father. + +"Stay," said the duke, directly my father had spoken, and I thought +suspicion gleamed in his eyes. "Your father informs me that your +discovery was made before we landed on English shores. You were at Dover +at our coming. What have you been doing with yourself since?" + +"If you will ask Caleb Bullen, he will tell you I have been staying at +the _Virgin Queen_, at St. Paul's Cross," I said; then, fearing further +questions, I went on, "but the thing you require of me is not easy of +accomplishment. Already I have nearly lost my life in the search +thereof, and----" + +"I have nought to do with that," he interrupted. "Set out without delay +and bring this thing to me, and this I will promise. I will see to it +that all your father's estates are restored, and I will take it upon +myself to assure your future. There is many an Independent fattening +upon fair estates who will soon be in gaol; there is many a highborn +dame who will gladly accept the hand of the youth upon whom the Duke of +York smiles. Now, then, I seek to hear no more, and know no more. But +stay, all such business requires money. Garnett, see to it that a purse +with a hundred pounds be given to him. And more, what is done must be +done secretly, and no man must know thy doings." + +With this he left the room, and without another word passed out of my +sight. I make confession here that the interview wellnigh stunned me. +The duke had not been one, but three men during the time we had been +together. At one time he had been cruel, hard, stern; at another he +seemed to have his wits muddled with wine, when he had spoken in a way +unworthy his high estate; and yet when he left me he made me feel that +he was a man to be obeyed, strong, masterful, and clear-minded. In +addition to this, my father had evidently been in secret conclave with +him, and it was he who had bidden me obey the duke's commands. +Therefore, although I was sorely bewildered, because he had commanded I +must perforce obey. + +One thing gave me peace of mind, and that was the fact that no mention +had been made of the woman I had released at Bedford. I felt sure that +did the duke dream of my action towards the woman who was accused of +attempting the murder of General Monk, he would have used it as a threat +in order to make me do his will. As it was, he took both my obedience +and my silence for granted, and seemingly had no doubts, in spite of my +behaviour during the first part of the interview, that I should dare to +refuse his bidding. + +"You have heard?" said the man who had accompanied me. "You have your +work--do it." + +I did not answer, for at this moment my father returned. + +"Roland," he said, "here are the hundred pounds. You will note that they +come from me. Obey his Grace's command. It is not only his will, but +mine. Now haste, for I fear you have wasted time. Good-bye, and fear +nothing." + +At this he left me again, while I stood gazing at the door through which +he had passed, almost too surprised for words. + +"You have heard," said Master Garnett, "now go and be thankful. I need +not tell you to be silent. You are not one who is foolish enough to talk +with every passerby, but remember this--if you fail to do the duke's +bidding the four seas that wash our shores would not save you from his +anger." + +Five minutes later I was in the street again, and that which I had seen +and heard was only as a dream. Still, I had a hundred pounds in my +pouch, and I knew that in accordance with the command of the king's +brother, I must e'en make a second attempt to obtain what I at that time +believed might be the king's marriage contract. + +Within two hours of that time I was on horseback again, for by this time +the fever of adventure was upon me, and I determined to again find my +way within the walls of Pycroft Hall, and to take the parchment I had +seen from its strange hiding place. + +As I rode along I wondered that I had been content to wait in London so +long, and had not, without the duke's command, sought to outwit the old +man I had seen in the lonely house. For although I believed the old man +had never imagined that I should escape alive, and therefore would not +remove the contract from its hiding place until he was able to make +terms with the king, I remembered that several days had elapsed wherein +he might have carried it I know not whither. It was then I remembered +that the great thought in my mind had not been to obtain the parchment +which might alter the destiny of the nation, but to give help to the +woman with whom I had so strangely been brought into contact. In truth +it came to me that so eager had I been to hear news of her after I had +returned to London town that I had scarcely ever thought of the mission +which had brought us together. At this I grew angry with myself, for +although she was very fair to look upon she was a Dissenter at heart, +the wife of a man who had taken part in the death of the king's father, +and was even then hiding from those who would bring her to punishment. +As I said, I grew angry with myself because of this, yet in spite of my +anger I wondered much concerning her, and prayed most earnestly for her +safety and her welfare. + +By the time daylight dawned I was far away from London, and was riding +through one of the fairest tracts of country of which perchance our +country can boast. I have, during my life, had occasion to ride through +many parts of our land, but never do I remember thinking aught so fair +as that through which I passed that day. The sun rose in a cloudless +sky, the birds were singing all around me as they perched upon the leafy +trees, while on my right hand, and on my left, the countryside rose and +fell in gentle hills and dales. + +"How quiet and restful everything is," I thought, and then I reflected +that the day was the Sabbath, so I let Black Ben drop into a walk, in +order that I might be able to enjoy with more comfort the beauty of the +scene. + +The sun was high in the heavens when I saw that I was drawing near a +small town, so I determined that I would stay there for breakfast, never +dreaming that I should pass through such a strange experience, and yet +one the like of which was being witnessed all over the country. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE SCENE AT THE PARISH CHURCH + + +"What place is this?" I asked of a peasant as I drew near the town I +have mentioned. + +"Maidstone," was the reply. "Be you going to the church?" + +"Maybe," I replied, "but it is early yet." + +"Ay, early, but not too early if you will see the sights." + +"What sights?" + +"Haven't you heard? Why God a' mercy, the old rector hath come back, and +hath got together twenty men to help the constables. Besides, I hear +that Master Burnbridge is shaking in his shoes." + +"And who is Master Burnbridge?" + +"Why you must be a furriner not to know. From whence come you, master?" + +"I come from London." + +"Ay? From London? Then you have seen the new king?" + +"Ay, I have seen him; but who is Master Burnbridge?" + +"He is the Independent minister who hath ministered in the parish church +for many a year. He is much beloved of the people, too, and hath many +followers. But the new king hates the Presbyterians and the +Independents, so we are to see gay doings to-day. It is but ten o'clock +yet, but I mean to get near the pulpit so that I can see all that goes +on. The old vicar, Master Noel, was one of Bishop Laud's men, and it +will be rare sport to see him tackle Master Burnbridge." + +"But he hath no right to do this." + +"That's no matter. I do hear that the king is going to make a law, so +Master Noel is taking time by the forelock, and we are to have gay +doings." + +The man turned in at a side road, while I rode on towards the inn I had +seen in the main street. I called to mind what the Duke of York had said +to me only the night before, and to me his words bore on the peasant's +gossip. When he had said that although no laws had been passed against +Independents and Presbyterians they had already been ejected from their +pulpits, and many had been thrown into gaol, I could only regard it as +the talk of a man who had drunk too freely; but now I saw that he spoke +not without his book, and I determined that I would also find my way to +the parish church that morning. + +Desirous as I was of seeing what should take place, however, I saw to it +that Black Ben was well foddered, and the morning air being pure and +appetizing, I could not resist the breakfast which was placed before me. +In truth so hearty was I that the church bell stopped ringing before I +found myself in the churchyard. When I reached the porch of the church I +found that if I entered it would be with difficulty. Nor do I think I +should have found admission at all had not the people believed, when +they saw my gay attire, and a sword hanging by my side, that I was sent +by the king to see justice done. As it was many made way for me, and so +I soon found myself within the church, which was filled from end to end +with an eager crowd. I noticed that there was no noise nor confusion. +Some, indeed, whispered to each other, while others smiled as if +triumphantly, but on the faces of most was a look of pain and sorrow. On +more than one countenance, however, I saw angry defiance, and I felt +sure that although they were in the House of God, the affair was full of +foreboding. + +I had scarcely found a position from which I could both see and hear, +when a man wearing a black gown entered the pulpit, and commenced to +open the Bible, but scarcely had he done this than another, wearing a +white surplice, rose from a pew close by, and said in a loud voice-- + +"In the name of God, and of the King's Majesty, I command you to +desist." + +"Who are you?" asked the man in the pulpit. + +"John Noel, vicar of this parish," was the reply. + +"Prove your right to that name," was the answer. + +"It is my intention so to do," was the answer, "but, before I do so, do +thou, a schismatic and a usurper, retire from this sacred building. For +years hath this sacrilege continued, because the king hath been kept +from his own; but now the king hath returned, and law and order must be +restored." + +"I have heard of thee," said the Independent; "thou art he who brought +popish devices into the House of God, and because of it the people of +this parish did drive thee out. Go thy way. This is the House of God, +and it must not be made a den of thieves. The king promised before he +came back that each minister should keep his benefice, and the king's +promise is above thy prating." + +"Come down, I tell thee, and desecrate not this holy place," cried the +man wearing the surplice. + +"I will not come down," cried the other. "I have been called of God to +minister to this people, and this will I do in spite of the hosts of the +Philistines." + +Upon this he opened the Bible and began to read, but before six words +had passed his lips a great number of strong men, armed, went to the +pulpit and pulled him headlong from thence. + +"Put him out of the House of God!" and I heard the voice of Master Noel +above the mutterings of the people. + +When Master Burnbridge had been dragged from the pulpit he was allowed +to stand in the aisle, while Master Noel, his Prayer-book in his hand, +mounted, and in a loud voice commanded the people to be silent for +prayer. But this they would not be, for a great number of them arose and +cried, "Master Burnbridge is our pastor, and he alone shall minister +unto us." + +Then I saw a great number of them rise, and were making their way +towards him with anger in their eyes, and their hands clenched ready to +strike, whereupon the many who had evidently been brought thither by +Master Noel drew their weapons, and prepared to do battle. + +I think the Independent minister saw that it would be useless for his +followers to fight for him, or else he dreaded a scene of riot in the +House of God, for he spoke aloud-- + +"Be quiet, good people," he said, "and fight not in the House of God +with carnal weapons. This papist priest hath planned to do this, and we +will not resist. It is true that Charles hath not commanded this, +neither hath Parliament assented unto it, but this man believeth that +both will support him. Moreover since the king's coming many of the +people have turned riotous and drunken, and will no longer have the pure +milk of the Word. But although we may be driven from the House of God, +we are still the Lord's people, so let us go quietly to a field close +by, so that we may worship God even as our fathers have done. Unhand +me," he continued, turning to those who had dragged him from the pulpit, +and still held him fast, "and I and my flock will e'en go where we can +worship God unmolested, and where we can pray that the Lord's people may +be protected." + +At this the armed men let Master Burnbridge go, whereupon he walked down +the aisle, as well as he was able for the crowd, while a goodly number, +it might be a hundred, followed him from the church. + +I was in two minds which to do. To leave the church with the +Independents, or to stay and listen to Master Noel; but as I was anxious +to hear what the follower of Archbishop Laud might have to say I took a +seat close by, and prepared to listen. But few, I fancy, listened to the +prayers which were read from the Prayer-book that morning. Each man had +been too much moved by what had taken place to enter into the spirit of +prayer, and I think every one heaved a sigh of relief when at length +Master Noel began to preach. He gave out as his text these words--"The +ploughers ploughed my back; they made long furrows. The Lord is +righteous; he hath cut asunder the cords of the wicked." This text, he +said, was indeed a true description of the followers of the Lord, since +that son of Belial, Oliver Cromwell, had murdered his most sacred +majesty, Charles I, and especially was it true of him, John Noel, who +had been ejected from his church and vicarage by a committee of +traitors, because of his loyalty to the late king. These incestuous +heretics had discarded the Prayer-book, blasphemed against the one true +Church, and committed sacrilege in the House of God. Moreover in the +guise of those who prate about liberty they had allowed all sorts of +heresy in the church, even while they were themselves the most rampant +bigots. Yet had they sought to catch the itching ears of the ignorant by +talks about toleration. But their reign was at an end, and soon the +people of God would be freed from their accursed intolerable toleration. +After this he enlarged upon what he called the heresies of Master +Burnbridge, who for so long had poisoned the minds of the people, and +who had that day been driven forth from God's house. + +After speaking thus he dealt with his right to hire men to drive out the +usurper. It is true, he said, that no law had yet been passed whereby +such usurpers as Master Burnbridge had been driven forth, nevertheless +this was within the rights of the aforetime rectors and vicar of the +parishes. His Majesty King Charles II. was a Protestant, a man of God, +and a loyal member of the Episcopal Church. He had not yielded to the +Presbyterians who had appealed to him, and had not made any concessions +to them. This proved that his Majesty had no sympathy with them. +Therefore seeing that without bishops, priests, and deacons, there could +be no king, it was right and fitting that they, as the king's loyal +subjects, should return to their churches. This had been done in many +places all over England, even before the king landed at Dover, and so +far had justice been vindicated that in Wales especially scores of these +naughty Independents had been driven from the churches, and hundreds of +them had been thrown into gaol, until those same gaols were full even to +overflowing. Thus they were right in ejecting this fellow Burnbridge. He +was a usurper, and therefore was cast out of the temple, even as those +who bought and sold in the temple at Jerusalem were cast out of olden +time. + +"Thus, my brethren," he continued, "we have done a part of our work. +Having cleansed the church, our next duty is to drive the fellow out of +the vicarage. This we will do after the close of this service." + +"But," you will say, "this man will erect some meeting house in this +town, where he will still poison the ears of the people. Let us trust +in God. Ere long I believe a law will be passed, whereby not only will +the church be purified from its taint of sin, but whereby none but those +who belong to the episcopacy will be allowed to break the bread of life +to the people, and a law compelling those same people to attend the +church on the Sabbath days; ay, and not only that, but that they shall +be forbidden to listen to any man who hath not been truly ordained a +preacher of the Word. For this, let us pray, so that godliness and true +religion shall be established in our land." + +After this the service soon broke up, and I heard no sign of +dissatisfaction anywhere. Mostly they seemed pleased by what had taken +place, and nearly the whole congregation followed Master Noel across a +field towards the rectory. On my way, I heard the sound of voices +singing, and turning I saw a number of people in a meadow close by. A +wagon had been placed under a tree, and on this wagon stood Master +Burnbridge, his black gown being gently swayed to and fro in the summer +breeze. All around him stood the people, but how many there were I know +not. All of them, as far as I could judge, were singing, and these were +the words that reached us-- + +_When the Lord turned again the captivity of Zion, we were like them +that dream._ + +_Then was our mouth filled with laughter, and our tongue with singing: +then said they among the heathen the Lord hath done great things for +them._ + +_The Lord hath done great things for us, whereof we are glad._ + +_Turn again our captivity, O Lord, as the streams in the south._ + +_They that sow in tears shall reap in joy._ + +_He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless +come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him._ + +At this there was much scornful derision among those who followed Master +Noel; nevertheless, I thought the singing was very sweet. + +A few minutes later the vicarage was the scene of great dust and +confusion, for every stick that Master Burnbridge possessed was carried +out into the lane which ran close by the house. Ay, so quickly was this +done, that I do not think that the little band who worshipped in the +field close by knew the meaning thereof. Nevertheless, even while Master +Burnbridge was preaching to his flock, the road was being filled with +the household treasures of the man who had been minister of the parish +for ten years. + +I took no part in the matter, neither was I at that moment strong in my +sympathy with either the one side or the other. Nevertheless, I have set +down exactly what I saw and heard as near as I can remember it, so that +all who care may read. + +Scarcely had the last armful of books been thrown into the road (and +there was a great quantity of them), than Master Burnbridge came up. + +"By whose authority hath this been done?" he cried, and I noticed that +his voice was loud and angry. + +"By mine," cried a portly man whom I had seen talking with Master Noel, +"by mine--Henry Wellwood, of Wellwood Hall, a justice of the peace." + +"Who is he?" I asked of one who stood by. + +"Hush! Squire Wellwood, who for years hath hated the Independents, +although he hath had to put up with them," was the reply. + +"Then," said Master Burnbridge, "I declare this to be a most unlawful, +as well as most unchristian and unholy act." + +"You are paid back in your own coin, Master Prater," laughed the squire. + +"I came to this living lawfully," replied Master Burnbridge. "Master +Noel had behaved in a traitorous manner, and so by law he was ejected as +a papist and a dealer in treasonous things. But there is no law against +me, and I declare that you have behaved unlawfully." + +"I?" cried the squire. + +"Yes, you, Henry Wellwood--you whom I have so often rebuked for your +riotous living and your drunken habits." + +"A brawler! a brawler!" cried the squire, "Take him into custody +constables, and clap him into gaol, as well as all the others who take +his part." + +At this I could no longer hold my peace. + +"Master Wellwood, methinks this will sound bad when it reaches the +king's ears," I cried. + +"King's ears! And who will take it to him," he cried, turning angrily on +me. + +"I will," I cried. + +"You will, and who are you?" + +"It doth not matter who I am," I cried, "but I can tell you that I have +the king's ear, and it will go hard with you." + +"Take this malapert boy with the others," cried the squire to the +constable, and I could see that he was much angered against me. + +Two of the constables moved towards me, while the rest of the yokels +stared at me openmouthed. + +"I am a loyal subject of the king," I cried, drawing my sword, "and am +neither Independent nor Presbyterian, but the first man that touches me +shall die." + +The men started back as I caused my sword to whistle around my head, and +as they only had heavy bludgeons they did not come nearer. But it came +to me even then that I could do no good by interfering further. I had +acted on the impulse of the moment, for I deemed it unfair that Master +Burnbridge, Independent though he was, should be clapped into gaol for +protesting against the spoiling of his goods; yet I knew I could do +nothing. All the popular feeling was against the Independent minister, +who I was told afterwards had been very severe with loose and careless +lives. Besides, I reflected that I could not help matters by allowing +myself to be clapped into gaol. I would, therefore, have escaped if I +could, but in turning to do so two men had come up behind my back, and +before I could even struggle for liberty I was closely pinioned. + +Before an hour had passed I was in the town lock-up with eight others, +amongst whom was Master Burnbridge. As may be imagined I was little +pleased with myself. First, because I was no Independent at heart, and +second because my interference had done more harm than good. Moreover I +was angry that I should be in prison, as though I were a drunken +tapster, and in company with people whom my father had often called +hypocritical psalm-Psingers. For we were all huddled together in an open +space, neither had we anything to sit upon, although straw was placed +upon the floor, upon which most of my companions lay down. + +"The Lord hath touched your heart, young man," said Master Burnbridge. + +"As to that I doubt much," I replied; "yet could I not help being angry +at the way the man Wellwood treated you." + +"Ay, but the spirit of the Lord was in your heart, else had you not +resented such injustice. But in truth I am not surprised at all this. I +have heard that Master Noel hath been in secret conclave with Master +Wellwood, and I heard rumours that what hath been going on ever since +King Charles hath been recalled would also happen to me. For myself I +care not, but I grieve for my wife and children, for what will they do +without house and home?" + +At this I was silent, for in truth what could I say? + +"And yet I must not fear," he went on, "for the Lord is still upon His +Throne. He delivered the Hebrew youths out of the fiery furnace, and He +will deliver me. But oh, I fear that dark days are coming upon England." + +"But the king hath made fair promises," I urged. + +"Fair promises!" cried Master Burnbridge, "and you see what they are +worth. Even before His Majesty hath been a week on his throne, and +before the matter of religion hath been dealt with, such as I are +ejected from our livings and thrown into the gaols. Moreover, although +the law is supposed to be on our side, no one stood up for it save you, +a stranger. If this be done at this time, what will be done when the +hosts of Belial have passed their laws? 'If they do these things in a +green tree, what shall be done in the dry?' I tell thee, young man, this +land will be full of wailing and gnashing of teeth." + +"That remains to be seen," I replied. "When the king hath time to make +the power of his arm felt, perchance these things will cease." + +"Cease! Charles Stuart make them to cease! Can the Ethiopian change his +skin, or the leopard his spots? I tell you he hath been brought back to +England by lies and corruption, and by lies and corruption he will +maintain his throne until the Lord shall speak." + +"Brought back by lies and corruption!" I cried. + +"Ay, I speak boldly. Who schemed to bring him back? Monk. Who is Monk? A +man who plays for his own hand. First a Presbyterian, then an +Independent, then nothing. Monk played a game, young master, and so we +see what we see." + +After this I was left much alone, for these people saw that I was not +one of them. Moreover, they spent much time in prayer, and in singing of +hymns, and on the whole were of a cheerful countenance. + +Presently as night fell most of them fell asleep, and thus but little +notice was taken when the door opened and a man whom I took to be a +gaoler took me by the arm and led me forth. + +"Whither do you lead me?" I asked. + +"Hush, and ask no questions," was his reply. + +Ere long I found myself nearing the vicarage, and again I asked why I +was led thither. + +"To see Master Wellwood," was the reply. + +"Why should I see Master Wellwood?" + +"You will soon know." + +A few minutes later I stood in a room of the vicarage, which was empty +save for three chairs, on two of which sat Master Wellwood and Master +Noel. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE WISDOM OF SOLOMON + + +Both the squire and the vicar eyed me closely as I entered, as though +they seemed doubtful as to how they should treat me. I noticed that my +sword, which had been taken from me, was placed in a corner of the room, +and as presently both of them nodded to me with a smile, I concluded +that they intended to treat me with some courtesy. + +"We have brought you hither," said Master Wellwood, "because being men +who love peace, as well as lovers of justice, we desired to give you an +opportunity of explaining your unruly behaviour to-day." + +"In what way have I behaved in an unruly way?" I asked. + +"You sought to interfere when the king's commands were being obeyed." + +"What commands?" + +"The commands that justice shall be done to loyal members of the +Church." + +"When were such commands given?" I asked. "Because never yet have I +heard of them. But last night did I have audience with the king's +brother, the Duke of York, while my father, whom I also saw, and who +hath been near the king ever since his Majesty's return, never said +aught to me concerning them." + +At this they looked at each other somewhat dolefully, as though they +knew not what next to say. + +"Your name, young master?" said Master Wellwood. + +"My name must not be known," I replied. "I am on the king's business, +and thus do not tell my name to every passerby; nevertheless, I think +his Majesty will be angry when he knows that his trusted envoy hath +been thrown into a lock-up." + +"It may be, young master; we acted zealously, yet we acted in the king's +interests," replied Master Wellwood. "For what is the truth? It is only +by supporting the Church that we support the king. For this is how it +appeareth to us. Religion must be maintained, and schismatics cast out. +For who are the king's enemies? The schismatics. Through them His Sacred +Majesty King Charles the First was beheaded, therefore no man can be +loyal to the king without establishing the true religion. And what is +true religion? It is the Protestant religion--that is the Protestant +religion which is neither rabid nor rancorous, but such as King Charles +the First encouraged and sanctioned. But where is that true Protestant +religion to be found? Only in the Episcopacy. For the safety of the +State, and the permanence of the crown, we must have bishops, priests, +and deacons. All schismatics are enemies to the crown, and to religion. +Therefore, although no laws hath yet been passed against these naughty +heretics, we must for the sake of the king's crown stop the mouths of +all these Presbyterians and Independents." + +Master Wellwood was wellnigh out of breath by the time he had finished +this long harangue, but having taken a drink from a glass of brandy he +went on. + +"That was why, out of loyalty to his Majesty, and for the sake of +religion, we even drove out that blaspheming prater this morning. +Moreover, as he usurped Master Noel's house we naturally drove him out +from hither. But for his naughty tongue he need not now be in prison; +but he spoke foul untruths, therefore had he to be punished as a +brawler. Besides, not knowing who you were, and when you took sides with +the prating heretic, we naturally thought you were of his order. +Therefore it was our duty to punish you. But since we have decided that +you were in ignorance as to your duty and therefore, judging you to be a +man of quality, we give you back your sword and your liberty." + +With that Master Wellwood rose, and gave me my sword back. + +"Your horse will be also ready at the _White Hart_," he went on, "and if +you have the ear of the king you can tell him that we are his most +zealous subjects." + +As may be imagined, I was much angered at the coolness of this +dismissal, but when I came to think about the matter I came to the +conclusion that I should do no good by causing a fuss. For although the +laws had not been altered, so greatly had the tide of feeling changed +that it was impossible to get justice for the Independents; moreover, if +the king were informed about the things which had taken place, he would +doubtless have laughed indifferently, and have taken no further notice. +In truth, as I was afterwards told, before any acts against Dissenters +were passed, the king was much pleased when he was told that they were +thrown into prison so that his throne might be established. + +Without much ado, therefore, I went back to the inn, and, not desiring +to remain any longer in the town, mounted Black Ben and rode through the +night towards Folkestone. Not that I was overmuch pleased at the way +things had turned out. It is true I was young, and had given but little +heed to matters relating to religion, yet did I conceive that I had not +behaved very gallantly to Master Burnbridge, whose cause I had espoused. +Yet so angry was I at being imprisoned, and so eager was I to get to +Pycroft Hall that I thought little of anything else. The time was coming +when I was to be brought into closer contact with matters appertaining +to religion, but at that time I was but ill-acquainted with those +questions which were to be of such trouble to the State. Moreover, as I +recalled my experiences at Pycroft I became more and more anxious lest I +should fail in the thing I had set out to do. I realized that directly I +had escaped from the prison house in which I had been immured, I ought +to have returned forthwith, and rested not until I had obtained a +document of such great value. But I had gone to Dover to witness the +coming of the king, and when I had heard that Mistress Constance Denman +was imprisoned I had forgotten all else in order that I might set her at +liberty. + +When I drew near to Pycroft I began to plan how I might carry my +designs into effect. For although the thing seemed easy enough at first, +it assumed different proportions as I drew nearer to it. Moreover, I +continued to upbraid myself for allowing so much precious time to +escape, during which Father Solomon might have transported the thing +elsewhere. Would not the very fact that I knew the hiding place cause +the old man to remove it? Before this time he would doubtless have again +descended into the cavern to discover what had become of me, and on +finding that I had gone would take steps accordingly. + +Nevertheless, I hoped for the best in spite of the fears I have here set +down, and when on the Monday I drew near Folkestone, I had my plans all +ready. I did not go to the _Barley Sheaf_, as before, but instead rode +straight to Pycroft Hall. The same silence reigned as I passed through +the woods, and although it was now fast approaching midsummer the birds +seemed afraid to sing, so dark and gloomy were the trees which +surrounded the house. + +No man did I meet, and for this I was very thankful. I felt that the +thing which I desired to do demanded the greatest secrecy, and that it +would not be wise to let any man be acquainted with my doings. For this +reason I did not even go to an inn, as I had first intended, but instead +made my way direct to the house. When I had wellnigh reached the open +space which surrounded the building I dismounted and proceeded on foot, +leaving Black Ben to roam as he felt disposed. I knew I was safe in +doing this, for I had trained him to come to my whistle even as a dog +obeys his master. As for any one stealing him, that, as I have explained +elsewhere, was impossible. + +Directly I had come to the open space I had a feeling that something had +happened. The very air seemed laden with mystery, and on casting my eyes +towards the house my feelings were confirmed. A great part of the +building was in ruins. A few days before it had stood intact, its doors +were bolted, its windows barricaded; but now not a door remained +standing. There was not a whole window to be seen. Eagerly I rushed +across towards the tree from which I had first seen the strange old man, +but on arriving there I saw that this end of the house was wellnigh +completely demolished. All around, moreover, were heaps of débris; +desolation was more than ever manifested. But little more than the shell +of the building remained. + +A minute later I made my way to the room where I had my interview with +the old man, but the place was scarcely recognizable. Only one thing +remained which reminded me of our meeting. That was a grinning skull, +which had somehow survived the wreck of other things. + +For a moment I was stunned. I could not comprehend what it all +portended; but presently my mind became clearer. Following as well as I +was able the course I remembered to have taken with the old man on the +night of our interview, I found my way to the place where the trap door +had been lifted. A great heap of rubbish crossed the place now, and this +I set to work to move with all speed. Ere long I discovered the thing I +sought, and remembering the spot where old Solomon had pressed his foot, +I did even as he had done, and the door lifted. As it did so I started +back, for a choking sulphurous smell arose, and to my excited +imagination I thought I heard strange cries. + +"It might be the very mouth of hell," I said to myself; and in truth +there was reason for my thought. When I called to mind what he had said, +together with the strange history of the place, I did not wonder that +the simple folk were afraid to come hither. The sulphurous smoke, +moreover, set me coughing greatly, while a great feeling of dread gat +hold of me. + +But this was only for a moment. Lonely as was the place, and fearful as +were the thoughts in my mind, I conquered myself. Perhaps my curiosity +helped me in this. For now that I had come so far I determined to probe +this thing to the bottom. I felt sure that this was all done by human +means, although I could not understand it. + +Having seen to it that my flint and tinder and candle were in good +condition, I put my foot on the step of the ladder, and descended into +the depths as I had done when the old man was with me. + +I thought I heard a strange mocking laugh as I did this, but I put it +down to my excited imagination, and although my heart beat aloud, I went +straight on. On reaching the bottom of the shaft I lit my candle, and +then followed the windings of the tunnel, even as I had followed them +before. Having made careful note of everything on the previous occasion +I found but little difficulty in finding my way again. And yet never in +my life had I made so fearful a journey; for try as I might I could not +rid from my mind the fact that I was surrounded by grinning jabbering +spirits of the dead, who mocked me in the thing I was seeking to do. +Neither could I rid myself of the fear that even then old Solomon was +near me, waiting to complete the destruction of my life which he had +attempted when we were here together before. + +As I look back now I wonder that I did not give up my search in despair, +for while any man with good courage can fight a battle in the open day, +when his enemy is plainly in sight, it is another matter to face dread +darkness, and the thousand things that haunt the darkness. In truth I +doubt whether I should have gone forward but for two things. The one was +my father's teaching. For this stood me in good stead now. Often had he +laughed at the stories of witches and wizards; often had he scorned in +my hearing stories of the supernatural which were so rife in every home +in our land. But this was not all. The desire to possess the thing which +would alter the destiny of England nerved me to brave anything. I +remembered the look on Duke James' face. I called to mind how I had been +attacked on the highway, and the words which had been uttered, and I +knew the thing meant much. I had seen the writing on the parchment, and +I understood what it meant. Besides, my father had commanded me. His +future depended on the discovery, for Duke James had said that if this +were brought to him my father's hopes should be fulfilled. And there was +more than this. Even then I bethought me of the woman whom I had rescued +from Bedford Gaol, and the more I thought of her the more did I fear for +her. If she were captured again, should I not, by the possession of this +precious document, have means in my hand whereby I could render her +service? + +Therefore I went forward until I came to the open place where the thing +had been placed, and here I stood still. For a moment I thought I was +going to swoon, for there were many strange sounds in my head, while the +black sides of the cavern, which were dimly revealed by the candle I +held in my hand, seemed to be dancing around me. But this I knew was +because my heart beat so loudly, and because my blood chased so madly +through my veins. So I called all my resolution to my aid, and conquered +my weakness. + +[Illustration: "Then I took the thing in my hand, and unfolded it."] + +After a few moments I located the place where the thing had been put, +and eagerly I hurried thither. + +Yes, there was the black box as I had seen it before. It seemed as +though it had never been moved since the hour when Father Solomon had +put it back. Feverishly I took it, and then looked fearfully around me, +because even then I fancied that watchful eyes might be upon me. But +there was nothing. + +Holding the box in one hand, and the candle in the other, I remember +thinking that my best plan was to get out into the open air, where I +could again examine its contents. But I was too impatient for this. +Propping my candle between two stones I got down on my knees, and +prepared to open it, but I stopped with a start and a shudder. + +I could have sworn that I heard a cackling mocking laugh close to my +ears, and again I looked fearfully around. But there was nought to be +seen, and so still had all things become that the silence seemed to make +a noise. + +"It is nought but my fancy," I said aloud, and I shivered at the sound +of my own voice. Also many wild fancies flitted across my mind. I +thought I saw Lucy Walters change from a beauteous nut-brown maid, with +skin fair and smooth, and altogether lovely to behold, into a hideous +corrupt-looking hag. She shook a leprous finger at me, and leered +mockingly into my face. Again also I thought I heard the mocking cackle +of old Father Solomon, which seemed to arouse all sorts of unearthly +wails. + +"It's nought but my fancy," I again repeated aloud, and this time the +sound of my voice gave me courage. I no longer feared unearthly +visitants. The thing was in my hands, and I would examine it. + +The lid of the box opened without difficulty, and I saw a piece of paper +lying within it. As I saw it I laughed aloud, so pleased was I. + +Then I took the thing in my hand, and unfolded it. + +This is what I read:-- + + _He that diggeth a pit shall fall into it._ + + _If the iron be blunt, and he do not whet the edge, then must he + put forth more strength._ + + _The lips of a fool will swallow up himself. The beginning of the + words of his mouth is foolishness, and the end of his talk + mischievous madness._ + + _Vanity of vanity, saith the preacher, all is vanity._ + + THE WORDS OF SOLOMON THE WISE. + +This was all. The marriage contract was gone, and nothing was left in +its place save the paper on which the words were written that I have +here set down. + +Eagerly I peered into the hole where the box had been placed; but it was +empty. Nothing was there save the void space which mocked me. + +I stamped my foot in my rage. This, then, was the end of my work. Old +Solomon had outwitted me, even as he had said, and I fancied I saw the +grin on his face as he had planned my discomfiture. + +After a time I grew more calm. There must be a meaning in all this. If +the old man had planned all this he must have had reasons for so doing. +Had he come hither to find me, and being unable to do so had he been +stricken with fear? After all the thing I had seen was different from +this. I had seen the signature of Lucy Walters, and of Charles Stuart. +Nothing could destroy that fact. If the old man had taken the parchment +away, and destroyed the house, he had done so with a purpose. He must +have had a motive in so doing. Was that motive fear or interest? +Besides, the old man must have another hiding-place. True I had been a +fool, a double-dyed fool, for not keeping the thing when I had once held +it in my hand; but it might not be too late to redeem the past. I would +find out the meaning of what I had seen; I would probe the thing to the +bottom. + +All my superstitious fears were gone. I no longer heard whispering +voices, or wailing cries; I no longer saw grinning faces or evil forms. +The darkness had no dread for me; my anger had driven away all my +terrors. + +Taking the box with me I hurried back to the stairway by which I had +entered, and a few minutes later I stood in the sunlight again. The +evening had now begun to draw to its close, but the sun was still +visible behind the tree tops, and after the darkness in which I had been +immured its light was very pleasant. + +"I will not rest until the box hath the true parchment again," I said +grimly, as I placed within it the paper on which old Father Solomon had +written his mocking words. "There must be some trace of him somewhere; +how can I find it?" + +I gave a long shrill whistle, and a few seconds later I heard Black Ben +whinnying. This was followed by the trample of hoofs, and directly after +he came up to me, and rubbed his nose against my hand. + +"Ben," I said to him, "we are beaten this time; but you and I will yet +succeed," and I patted him gently. + +Again he whinnied as though he understood, while I bethought me of what +I must do next. + +I had some trouble in putting away the black box in my saddle-bag, but I +at length succeeded in doing so, after which I rode through the dark +woods towards the highway. By the time I had gone a little way I felt +both faint and hungry. The excitement through which I had passed had +left me with a great languor, so presently seeing a peasant I inquired +the way to the nearest inn, which I found was of the better order of +places of refreshment, and where I had no difficulty in obtaining food +for both man and beast. + +After seeing to it that Black Ben was well groomed and foddered, and +having partaken of a good meal myself, I felt my own man again, and ere +long found my way into the room where three or four men, whom I judged +to be farmers, were drinking. They had been talking eagerly when I +entered, but on seeing me they rose, touched their forelocks, and then +sat down again. + +I greatly desired them to speak freely, so having ordered more +refreshments for them I tried to draw them into conversation. To my +satisfaction I soon discovered that my bounty unloosed their tongues, +and I found that they vied with each other to answer whatever questions +I asked. Nevertheless I was wary even in this, for I was desirous at all +hazards to avoid arousing suspicion. I therefore spoke first of the +possible harvest, and of the good times we hoped to have now that the +king had come to his own. + +After this I spoke of the coming of the king, and of the gay doings at +Dover, and presently, little by little, I led mp the conversation to +Pycroft Hall. Directly the name passed my lips, however, they became +silent, as though a great fear possessed them. + +"Is aught ill with the place?" I asked. + +"There is no Pycroft Hall now," said one presently, and his voice almost +sank to a whisper as he spoke. + +"No Pycroft Hall? Why I saw it not long since myself, and a gloomy old +place I thought it was," I said. + +"The devil hath blown it to atoms," said the man fearfully. + +"You are but laughing at me," I cried. + +"Nay, worshipful master, but we be not. It hath only happened of late +that this hath come to pass." + +"Since what hath come to pass?" + +"We were speaking of it at the moment when you entered the room, young +master, and not knowing how you might relish such talk, we e'en held our +tongues." + +"What talk?" + +"Why, about the devil blowing up Pycroft Hall." + +"If you know aught I should be glad to hear it. I love much such stories +as you speak of." + +"You are not one that fears the devil, young master?" + +"I trust in an easy conscience and a good sharp sword," I made answer. +"Nevertheless I love the gossip of the times, whether it concerns the +devil or of those who have no dealings with him." + +"Well, master, this is what hath taken place. It is said that three days +ago some of the king's men came hither to visit it. But before they +reached it, although they drew near to it, they heard a great noise, as +though the world were coming to an end. Of this there can be no manner +of doubt, for I myself heard it, although I was a mile away." + +"When was this?" I asked. + +"Last Friday that ever was," replied the man. "Friday is the devil's +day, and he played his game last Friday. For years it's been haunted as +all the country knows. Your honour may have heard of it." + +Hereupon he told me a long story which I will not set down here, because +I have already mentioned much of the things he said in what I have +previously written. + +"Well," I said, when he had finished the story, "the king's men went to +see it, you say." + +"People say it was the king's men, but we be not sure. But be that as it +may, when they were on the way to the house, a place I would not go to +myself, no not for ten pound in gold, they heard a noise like a clap of +thunder, and they said they felt the ground shaking under their feet." + +"Well, what then?" I said eagerly, for the man stopped. + +"When they came up to it they could see nothing for smoke," said the +man; "a smoke that smelt of brimstone, and then they were so frightened +that they came back. Next day the parson went near to see it, and he +said he believed that the spell of the devil was broken, although the +house was wellnigh blown to pieces." + +"When did the parson go up?" + +"On Saturday, but 'twas Friday evening when the king's men went up." + +"You say you heard the noise yourself?" + +"Ay I did, and I saw more than any of them." + +"What did you see?" + +"I saw the devil." + +"Tell me about it?" + +"I'm afraid," said the man. "I've never said so much to anybody before, +even to my wife; but this drop o' drink that you've given me hath seemed +to fire my courage." + +"Tell me and you shall have some more. Nay, your jug is empty. I will +order some more." + +The landlord brought a stoup of strong waters and placed it on the +table, and having left us, we all drew our chairs close to the farmer, +so that we could the better hear what he had to say. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +HOW I VISITED BEDFORD A SECOND TIME + + +"It may be nought," said the farmer; "perhaps you, young sir, seeing you +have much learning and have read wise books, may say it was nought; +nevertheless I believe it was what I say it was, although there is one +thing I cannot understand." + +"And what do you say it was?" + +"I say it was the devil." + +"And what is the thing you cannot understand?" + +"He had a woman with him." + +"Ay, but I can understand that," remarked one of the others, who had +been listening intently. "Wherever the devil is at work you always find +a woman. For that matter I doubt if the devil could get on at all but +for woman." + +"That's true, John Trounsen," remarked the third. "My wife is a good +woman, let who will say otherwise; but for all that there's a woman in +all devilry. The devil could not do his work without witches, and I +doubt not he was obliged to have many witches with him at Pycroft. All +that's been done there these last few years could not have been done +without them." + +"But what did he look like?" I asked eagerly, for as may be imagined +other thoughts had come into my mind than those spoken by the simple +farmers. + +"Look like?" said the farmer who told the story. "Well that again seems +strange. And yet I do not know. The parson says the devil can appear as +an angel of light, so I do not see why he cannot appear as an old man." + +"An old man?" I cried. + +"Ay, an old man. This was how it happened, young master. I was passing +by the Pycroft woods on Friday evening, when I heard the noise like +thunder. It fairly seemed to shake the very ground. I looked around me, +but I could see nothing. Then I heard something like a cackle, and on +gazing around me I saw him standing a little distance from me with a +woman by his side. Mind you, nothing was to be seen afore the great +noise, then all of a sudden he appeared." + +"Ay, that must have been the devil," remarked the man called Trounsen. + +"All of a sudden, all of a sudden, just like he always comes! What did +the parson say on Sunday? 'He cometh like a thief in the night,'" +remarked the other. + +"Did any smoke come out of his nostrils?" asked Trounsen. + +"No, he was just a simple old man with a short neck and long whiskers. +Ay, but you should have seen his eyes. Fire seemed to come from them." + +"Did he say aught?" + +"Nay, but he laughed--or rather he cackled, and then he shook his hand +towards Pycroft. Ay but I was frightened." + +"Did he see you?" + +"Nay, he didn't, and you may be sure I made no noise." + +"And the woman--what was she like?" I asked. + +"Ay, there you have me again, master, for the woman was young, and I +thought fair to look upon." + +"Did either say aught?" + +"Ay, they talked to each other in words which I could not understand; +but presently I heard the woman say they must haste to Bedford, for +there was work awaiting them there. But when she had spoken he shook his +hand towards Pycroft and laughed such a laugh as I never heard before." + +"'What'll you find!' he said in a terrible voice. 'Perhaps a few skulls, +but nought else;' and then he started, as I thought, to come where I +was, so I just creeped under a withy bush, and hid myself. After that I +heard no more. When I dared to creep out again nought was to be seen. He +had spirited both himself and the woman away." + +After this the man told his story again, but I gathered nothing new. He +simply detailed for the willing ears of the others such trifles as were +of no importance to me. But he had told me enough to set me thinking. +The man was doubtless old Solomon. But the woman, who was she? I called +to mind that on the night when I first went to Pycroft I saw not only +Mistress Constance Denman in the room, but another woman. Might not this +be the same woman? She must have known Mistress Constance, else they had +not been together. Moreover, what might be the significance of her +desire to go to Bedford? Was not this the place to which Constance had +flown? Was it not natural, therefore, that some understanding existed +between them? + +When all was quiet in the inn that night, and the visitors had departed, +I lay thinking of all that had taken place, and I felt that I must start +for Bedford the next day. It was by this means only that I should again +find the old man, and I blessed the lucky happening which had led me to +the inn, and thus had been enabled to hear the farmer's story. Much as I +cudgelled my brains, however, I was unable to get any nearer the +solution of the mystery which faced me, neither could I so much as +arrive at a suggestion of the truth concerning the link which bound the +unknown woman at Pycroft Hall with Mistress Constance Denman. Also I was +as much in the dark as to the ties which bound these women to old +Solomon. Everything was a mystery, and I knew not how to explain it. + +Next morning I was on horseback again. I knew that my way to Bedford lay +straight through London, yet did I not deem it wise to go thither. I had +not yet accomplished the thing I had set out to do, and I did not feel +like going back to the Duke of York to tell what I had seen and heard. +So I determined to bear to the left until I reached the Portsmouth road, +and then by riding through the little village of Wandsworth, and +crossing Battersea fields, I should miss London altogether. I knew that +I could obtain a ferry at Battersea, and then by riding across country I +could get to Barnet without so much as being seen by any who dwelt in +London town. + +Although I was eager to get to Bedford I knew that I incurred great +danger by going thither. Doubtless searchers would be abroad to find the +man who had liberated the daughter of Master John Leslie from Bedford +Gaol, and as not many days had passed since the event, the desire to +capture me must be still keen. Still nothing could be done without risk. +I did not slacken speed but went straight on. + +I wondered much by what means old Solomon could take the woman to +Bedford, seeing that his peculiar appearance would attract much +attention. But I knew that he was a man of great resource, and possibly +he had friends unknown to me. + +It took me two days to reach Bedford, even although Black Ben might have +covered the distance in less time. The truth was, however, I could not +accomplish the journey in one day, and I did not wish to reach Bedford +town until after dark on the second day. + +I little thought when I had fled from the inn, while a crowd of men were +howling after me, that I should so soon draw near the same place, yet as +the sun was setting on the second day after I had left the inn where I +had heard news of Father Solomon I found myself at the very place where +I had met the man called John Bunyan. My plans, however, did not make it +a necessity for me to go so straight into danger. Rather it was my +purpose to go to Goodlands, and by means of diligent inquiries to find +out the things I desired to know. I did not hurry, for the sun had set +in a clear sky, and I knew the twilight would last for wellnigh an hour, +so Black Ben, catching my humour, walked quietly along, but we had not +gone far in this way before I perceived something was afoot. There was +the noise of the trampling of many feet in the near distance, while I +could hear the excited manner of many voices. + +I looked eagerly around me, but the trees and hedges being in full leaf +hid wellnigh everything from me. I saw however that I was nearing the +place where, on the night of Mistress Constance's escape from prison, we +left the main road and turned towards the narrow lane where we had been +molested by the constable and his friends. + +"They seem to be coming from Goodlands," I said to myself, as I tried to +locate the noise of the people, and at this my heart grew cold, for I +feared lest something evil had happened to the woman I had tried to +befriend. + +Forgetting all possible danger to myself, therefore, I urged Black Ben +forward, and soon I saw a number of people who as far as I could judge +were much wrought upon. That they were not drunken was easy to see, for +they walked circumspectly, and yet many angry cries reached me, as +though there were a division of opinion among them. I had barely reached +the spot where the lane joined the highway when in spite of myself I +gave a cry, for there, right in the midst of a motley crowd, was +Mistress Constance, while on either side of her walked a constable with +a truncheon in his hand. Never, if I live until I am as old as +Methuselah shall I forget the look on her face, for although the sun had +now set, leaving only a great golden glow in the western sky, I saw it +plainly. + +She was very pale, I remember, save for a pink spot that burned on her +cheeks, but she shewed no other sign of fear. Her lips were compressed +and determined, while her eyes burned with a clear steady light. She +stood perfectly straight too, and carried herself proudly, as though she +were a May Queen walking amidst the plaudits of the multitude, instead +of being a prisoner. Headgear she had none, but her hair hung in rich +profusion around her shoulders and far down her back. Even then I caught +the sheen of those curling tresses, which gave her the appearance of a +queen of beauty. + +She paid not the slightest heed either to those who muttered angry +threats against her or those who evidently sympathized with her; her +eyes were fixed on the distant skies, as though her thoughts were far +away. + +"What are they doing with her?" I said to a man standing on the +outskirts of the crowd, but I spoke like a man in a dream, for I knew +quite well. + +"Doing? Why, taking her to gaol again; and I warrant she does not escape +again, witch or no witch!" + +And now I have to make confession of that which mayhap will draw away +from me the sympathy of all good people, for at that moment I, Roland +Rashcliffe, realized that I loved this woman more than my own life. I +knew of what she had been accused, and she had never denied these +accusations. She was said to be guilty of attempting to murder General +Monk for seeking to bring back the king, and had been engaged in evil +plots against his Majesty. And yet I loved her. But this was not all. +She was the wife of Sir Charles Denman, a man who bore an evil name, and +who had been actively interested in the death of the king's father. As +such I should never have thought of her save as a murderess who had been +married to a bad man. And yet at that moment I forgot everything. Forgot +that her hands were stained with blood, forgot that her life was +surrounded by mystery, forgot that she owed the allegiance of a wife to +a husband, forgot everything, in fact, save that her life was dearer +than my own, and that I must seek to save her at all hazards. That my +love was hopeless I knew, for she belonged to another; that my +determination to save her was madness I also knew, for what could one do +among so many? Yet regardless of everything I sprang from my horse, and +as if by magic I made a road for myself amidst the crowd till I reached +her side. + +"Mistress Constance!" I cried. + +And then, spite of everything, a great joy came into my heart, for +though she spoke no word I saw that as her eyes turned towards me they +lit up with a great gladness, and she, as I thought, tried to hold out +her hands towards me. + +"Mistress Constance!" I repeated, and I forgot the gaping motley crowd +which surged around, which I think was at that moment too curious to do +anything save to stare at us in wonder. But as I spoke a second time I +saw that the joy which shone from her eyes at her first sight of me +passed away, and in its place came a look of terror. + +"Escape! escape!" she said. "You cannot help me, and----" + +But before she could finish the sentence a great yell went up from many +throats. + +"The man at _The Bull_!" + +"The man who drugged Master Sturgeon's ale!" + +"It is he who got her out of gaol!" + +"Ay, we saw him taking her to Goodlands!" + +These and a hundred other disjointed cries I heard, and then I was +roughly seized by many hands. + +"What shall we do with him?" + +"Do! Why to gaol with him!" + +"This will be sugar and honey to Master Sturgeon." + +"Ay, and a feather in our cap when the king hears of it!" + +"We'll see now if he'll laugh at us a second time!" + +All this I heard as I was dragged along, but I took but little heed. My +eyes were fixed on Mistress Constance's face, and I heeded not the angry +shouts of those who held me in my delight at being near her. + +"Why did you do this?" I heard her say. + +"Because I could not help it," I replied. + +At this moment I heard a great cry of fear, and turning I saw Black Ben +rushing towards me, while the crowd made way for him. He might have +judged that I was in danger, for he came up to me, his eyes wild and his +head uplifted high in the air. + +I thought for a moment that those who held me fast would have let me go +as he came up, so fearful were they: nevertheless they did not release +me, although they sheltered themselves behind me. + +What would have happened I know not, for at that moment the crowd was +much excited, but Black Ben, as I thought, seemed to be making for +Mistress Constance--whereupon I spoke angrily to him and bade him be +still. He obeyed like a child, for so much had we been together at home +that he had learnt to take note of the tones of my voice, and to come at +my call like a well-trained spaniel. + +"What are you going to do with me?" I said to the men who held me fast. + +"Do? Take you to gaol, young master." + +"Why? What charge have you against me?" + +"We'll see to that to-morrow morning at the County Court!" was the +reply. + +"Then let my horse be taken to _The Bull_ stables," I said, for even +then I could not bear for him to suffer because of me. + +"Ay, and who'll take him?" was the reply. + +It was a strange procession as ever man saw, as we walked towards the +river; for although my captors still held me fast, Black Ben walked near +me, his eyes flashing, while every now and then he shook his head, and +snorted dangerously. + +When we reached _The Bull_ we stopped. + +"Call the ostler," I said, as though I were in command instead of being +a prisoner, and a few seconds later, Black Ben allowed himself to be led +into the stables. + +By this time a greater crowd than ever had gathered. Indeed, as it +seemed to me, the whole town had turned out to see us. This vexed me +much, for I hated the thought that many hundreds of staring eyes were +upon us, but Mistress Constance seemed to heed nothing. She walked along +the street, and over the bridge, with head erect, and the faraway look +in her eyes as when I had seen her first of all that night. + +We were kept near to each other, so near in truth that I could have +touched her had my hands been free, but she did not seem to heed me. + +"Do not fear," I said to her. + +"I fear nothing--for myself," she replied. + +"We shall be perchance taken before the king. If we are we shall be set +at liberty." + +But she shook her head, and after that we spoke to each other no more +that night, for a few minutes later I found myself in a dark dungeon of +a place, where there was neither light to see, nor fresh air to be +breathed. + +I will not try to set down here the thoughts and feelings which +possessed me that night. Indeed there will be no need to relate them, +even if I felt inclined to do so. All who read this will know that it +was not of myself that I thought, save only in so far as the interests +of Mistress Constance were linked to my own. All my thoughts were +concerned with her. Neither did I fear for myself, although I knew I was +in great danger. I was for ever asking what would be done to her, and +wondering at times whether the mystery which surrounded her would be +explained. + +As may be imagined, sleep was out of the question, and tired as I +should have been under ordinary circumstances, I felt no weariness. + +When daylight shewed itself, even in the foul den where I lay, I fell to +wondering how Mistress Constance's hiding place had been discovered, and +how she, who had felt so certain of being able to avoid capture, should +have allowed herself to be taken by such a clumsy set of yokels as those +who brought her thither. I wondered much also where Master Leslie might +be, and why he was not by his daughter's side. I at length concluded +that he must perchance have gone to London, or he might have found it +necessary to place himself in hiding. + +Concerning the defence I proposed making for myself I meditated not one +whit, for all my interests were swallowed up in those of the woman, the +very thought of whom filled me with joy, and yet tore my heart with +grief. It must have been perchance eight o'clock when the door opened, +and Master Sturgeon entered. + +"Ah, young Master Jackanapes," he cried. "So your sins, like chicken, +have come home to roost?" + +"No, Master Sturgeon," I said, looking him steadily in the face. "I so +enjoyed your company when last I saw you that I have taken the first +opportunity to meet you again." + +"Anger me not, or it will go hard with you," he cried. + +"As to that, anger me not," I cried, "or I will e'en tell the town clerk +and the mayor what a fool you are. I will tell them how drunk you were, +and that I could not only have set one prisoner at liberty, but every +one you had under lock and key." + +I saw that I had made him fear, although he put a brave face on it. + +"Bah! Master Braggart," he cried, "you will see that I will not be again +taken in by your boasting." + +"I never said I was a zealous servant of the king, even while I became +so drunk that I failed to do my duty," I replied. "As to being a +braggart, Master Gaoler, I have told you nought but the truth. And this +I swear, if Mistress Constance Leslie, or whatever you are pleased to +call her, be not kindly treated, I will see to it that a true story of +the way you conducted yourself be widely published. Ay, it shall even +reach the king's ears. In which case you will no longer be a gaoler, but +a prisoner." + +"As to that it is my full intention that she shall be treated with all +due courtesy," he replied, "but tell me the meaning of what hath taken +place, young master. Who are you, and why came you to Bedford? I promise +you that aught you shall say to me shall do you good rather than harm." + +"As to that presently," I replied. "But will you on your part first tell +me something?" + +"I will tell you all that seemeth right to tell," he replied. + +"Then how was the woman who was brought here with me last night taken +prisoner?" + +"Ay, that is easy to tell," he replied. "I had my suspicion that there +might be doings at Goodlands which it might advantage me to know, so I +got a warrant to search the place from cellar to cock-loft. And this, as +you will see, led to good results, for truly the constables had not been +in the house a minute before this daughter of Master Leslie's came to +the place where the constables were, and gave herself up. Was not this +mighty clever on my part?" + +"And then you searched no more?" I said. + +"There was nought more to search for. You see I had the house searched +the day after you--you--set her free from here; but nought could I find, +no not a sign of her. But I bided my time. I said, 'she will return,' +and in truth she did." + +"You say you did this?" I asked. + +"Ay I did--that is me and the justices together." + +I said nought at this, although I was sore puzzled at his words, for I +thought I saw a meaning in it all far greater than he had dreamt of. + +"And now tell me what you promised to tell me?" he said. + +"At what hour am I to be brought before the justices?" I asked. + +"At ten o'clock," he replied. + +"Then I must needs think of my defence," I replied, "and you will have +to wait until their worships have examined me." + +This, as may be imagined, did not satisfy him, but he had to be +content, for I would not answer a single question he put. + +At ten o'clock the next day I was brought before the justices of +Bedford, but I never dreamed, as I appeared before them, of the things I +should presently learn. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE CHAPEL OF HERNE + + +The place into which I was taken was of no great size, nevertheless a +large number of people had squeezed themselves in. I judged from this +that the affair had been much noised abroad, and that justices from the +whole country side had come together, so great was the interest taken. I +learnt, however, that the mode of procedure was to be of no ordinary +nature, seeing we were no ordinary prisoners. I was told that the +justices were to examine us concerning the nature of our guilt, and then +if they thought fit, either to pass us on to the assizes or to set us at +liberty, just as they felt inclined. But not being versed in the ways of +the law, I did not trouble much about such matters. For of this I was +sure: the justices would not dare to set Mistress Constance at liberty, +seeing a warrant had been out against her for a great length of time, +and it was not to be expected that they would have mercy upon me, seeing +I had helped the woman to liberty. + +Nevertheless I knew that for the sake of their own curiosity they would +be sure to ask us many questions, and in this way such matters might +come to light as I much longed to know. + +I saw, moreover, that we were not treated as prisoners of the period +were wont to be treated. Nay more, I saw that many of the rustics gazed +on us with a kind of respectful curiosity. + +"Who are their worships on the bench?" I asked of a man who had +conducted me into the justice room, and he pointed them out to me in a +friendly way. + +"That is Sir John Napier," he said, pointing to a stout choleric old +man, "and that," nodding to a man with a very solemn face, "is Sir +William Beecher of Howbury. The one to his left is Mr. Gery of +Bushmeade, who fought with King Charles against the Roundheads, while +the one on his left hand is Sir St. John Chernocke of Hulcote." + +And so on, speaking to me as if I were a visitor instead of a prisoner. + +"They are the greatest gentry in Bedfordshire, young master," he said +confidentially, "and King Charles himself might be proud to call some of +them his friends. Not that they are easy to get over. No, no. They are +terrible hard upon them as breaks the law." + +I saw that Mistress Constance was not in the room when I entered and I +wondered why, seeing I had been brought there just after ten, she had +not also been conducted hither at the same time. But I had not to wait +long, for scarcely had I taken a careful view of what was taking place +when she was led in. + +There was a general "hush" as she entered, and even the justices looked +curiously towards her, as though she were to be treated with all due +courtesy. + +For this I have found throughout my whole life. It all depends on the +woman herself as to how she is treated; and if she be not regarded with +respect it is in nine cases out of ten because of the kind of woman she +is. It may be different with men. In truth I know it is; for I have seen +men of high standing and blameless character treated with discourtesy, +amounting to rudeness if not to cruelty. But few men can speak lightly +or rudely to a woman who is of gentle birth, and is in her own heart a +gentlewoman. If there is any proof needed of this, it was made manifest +that morning. For although Mistress Constance Leslie was the daughter of +a man whom the king hated, and although she was accused of attempting to +murder the great general by whose offices the king was brought back to +the throne, there was not one of the justices who spoke to her in an +unbecoming way. Therefore I say this: If a woman receives only scant +courtesy, let her look to herself, for she will generally find the +reason there. It is wellnigh impossible to respect a shrew, a slattern, +or a gossip, although a man should in every case be courteous to +womanhood, even if he find it hard to respect the woman. + +Mistress Constance was still pale, except for the pink flush on her +cheeks, but it detracted not one whit from her beauty. Rather in my eyes +it added to it. Moreover, no man, I do not care who he is, could have +doubted her modesty or gentleness. Indeed I hated the man who called her +wife, and I wondered why God had allowed her to be mated to Sir Charles +Denman. But this might be because, even as she stood before the +justices, my heart went out to her, if possible more than ever. + +She wore the same attire as on the previous night, and I heard a buzz of +admiration pass around the room as she stood there bareheaded before the +gaping crowd. But she seemed to be unconscious of it, for she took no +notice of those who watched her, but instead turned her face to the +justices, as if she would read their thoughts. + +Her lips were compressed, but not a sign of fear did she shew. Not an +eyelid quivered, neither did her hands tremble. Whether she saw me I +know not. But she made no sign as if she did, although I thought I once +saw her looking at me furtively. + +I do not remember any of the formalities which preceded the trial; but +when presently the chief justice called her name, she bowed in a stately +way, and seemed prepared to answer any questions they might put. + +"Constance Denman." + +My heart grew bitter as I heard the name, and I thought I saw a look of +anger cross her face. + +"You are accused of attempting to stab to the heart with a knife his +Grace the Duke of Albermarle, but who was at that time General Monk, and +in truth did stab his secretary. Because of this a warrant hath been +issued against you. Although for a long time you escaped the law, you +have at length been brought to justice." + +These words I have written down from memory, and although they may not +be the exact words spoken, they give the sense of what was said. + +She did not speak in answer to this, whereupon some one whispered to the +justice who had spoken, who shook his head impatiently. + +Then a man who had been writing, lifted his head and said-- + +"Your name is Constance." + +At this she bowed. + +"Daughter of Master John Leslie, of Goodlands?" + +"Yes." + +"Your age?" + +"I was born on the 29th of June, 1640." + +"You will then be twenty on your next birthday?" + +"Yes." + +At this there was a suppressed whisper around the justice house. "Just +as I thought." "Beautiful, isn't she?" "Fancy a maid, and a lady born +doing such a thing at that age;" and so on. + +"On the 15th of January you were wedded to Sir Charles Denman?" + +At this she did not speak. + +"You must answer the question," said the chief justice. + +I saw a look of terror pass across her face. Her hands clenched and +unclenched themselves, while a crimson flush suffused her whole face. + +"What have these questions to do with the crime of which I am accused?" +she asked. "It is well known who I am. Moreover, there are certain +questions which are painful, and they have nought to do with the deed of +which I am believed to be guilty. Therefore be pleased to pass on!" + +One might have thought she commanded the court, although she spoke in a +low voice, and in a perfectly womanly way. I believe moreover that the +principal justice would have saved her these questions, but the clerk +insisted upon them. + +"These be according to law, Sir William," he said, "and must be +answered." + +"You hear what the clerk saith?" replied the justice. + +"I repeat the question," said the clerk. "You were married, were you +not, on the 15th day of January, to Sir Charles Denman?" + +She drew herself up as if to speak, but no words escaped her lips. + +"How hateful the thought of the marriage is to her," I thought to +myself, and my heart was full of joy at the thought of it. + +At this moment there was a great confusion in the court, and I saw that +all eyes were turned towards the door. + +"Master John Leslie!" was whispered all over the place. + +A man past his prime made his way towards the bench, and I saw at a +glance that he must be related to Mistress Constance. He had the same +cast of features, and although there were signs of weakness on his face +which did not appear on that of his daughter, he was a man of noble +appearance. + +"I pray you to forgive my tardiness, Sir William," he said, nodding to +the chief justice, "but it was far past midnight when the news was +brought to me in London that my daughter was to be brought before you +to-day. Since then I have ridden without ceasing so as to be here in +time for--for the trial." + +I thought then that this man would do his daughter harm rather than good +by appearing in this way, for I saw looks of anger and dislike pass +across the faces of some of the justices. + +"Your presence is of no great importance, Master Leslie," said the +justice drily, "and it seems a pity that you have journeyed all the way +from London for nought. Besides, you hinder the procedure. The question +is just asked whether your daughter married Sir Charles Denman, and I +think she can answer it as well as you." + +I saw the eyes of father and daughter meet, and as far as I could judge +she seemed to wish him to be silent, but of this I was not sure. I +thought, however, that he paid no heed to her wishes, for he turned to +the bench with a look of resolution in his eyes. + +"You have asked whether my daughter is the wife of Sir Charles Denman," +he said excitedly. "I will even answer you. She is not." + +"Father!" + +The cry which came from Mistress Constance was as I thought full of +pain. + +"Be silent," cried Master Leslie. "Our God is a God of truth, and I will +no longer suffer a falsehood to be believed." + +"Whose wife is she then?" + +"She is no man's wife." + +There was a silence like unto the silence of death in the room as he +spoke, every one there seeming to be afraid to breathe. + +"I speak the truth, Sir William," went on Master Leslie. "As you know I +am not a man to utter light words. You have had occasion to say so more +than once as we have sat side by side in this Chapel of Herne, the +justice hall of Bedford. So you may e'en take that down, Master +Cobb"--this to the clerk of the peace--"for what I have told you is the +truth." + +I looked at Mistress Constance's face again as he spoke, and for the +first time I saw fear in her eyes. She evidently dreaded something which +was of a fearful nature, and I sorely pitied her. Yet was my heart +filled with such a joy as I had never known before. In truth it seemed +to me that a great burden had rolled from my life, for it was no longer +a sin to love her. I no longer hated Sir Charles Denman as I hated him +before, even although my mind was filled with a great wonder at the +meaning of it all. + +I could see that the presiding justice was so astonished that he could +not speak, while Master Cobb, the clerk of the peace, seemed busily +writing, only to scratch out what he had written. + +"I pray you, Master Leslie," went on Sir William Franklin, the presiding +magistrate, "to speak plainly on this matter. You say that this woman is +not the wife of Sir Charles Denman, and that she is no man's wife. Do +you also say that it is not she who hath attempted the life of General +Monk?" + +"I do say it, Sir William; she hath attempted no man's life, and is as +innocent of the whole matter as a babe but last night born." + +"Then what meaneth all this turmoil? Why hath the warrant been issued? +Why hath she been captured and brought hither?" + +I saw that he was much excited, and that because of it he forgot much of +the usual formalities of asking questions. I judged too that Master +Cobb, seemed to be hesitating between his desire to conduct the affair +after the usual order, and his great curiosity concerning what Master +Leslie was saying. + +"If you, Sir William, will come with me apart for a moment, I will +explain all these matters to you," said Master Leslie, whereupon the +other justices protested, declaring that such was not the law of our +land. So Sir William had to concede that which was evidently against his +desire to his brother justices. + +"What's said must be said in the open court," he said. Then realizing +that he had been conducting the affair in an unusual way he went on-- + +"Moreover, it is not you who are at present under examination. If you +elect to give evidence after the prisoner hath been examined I will +allow you to do so." + +"Then let me say this," said Master Leslie, "whatever my daughter may +deny, or whatever she may refuse to tell, I shall e'en take a straight +course and tell everything which appertaineth to this business." + +Upon that Master Leslie took a seat as near to his daughter as he was +able, while Master Cobb, evidently relieved that events were to take a +lawful course again, prepared to ask questions. + +Again I looked around this little whitewashed hall, and looked at the +eager faces of the crowd. I have been told that many trials of note had +taken place in this Chapel of Herne, which was a building associated +with the Grammar School, and used as a justice court, but I doubt if +ever one caused more eagerness than that in which we were now engaged. + +"I have asked you whether you were married to Sir Charles Denman. Will +you answer?" + +"My father hath told you. There is, therefore, no need for me to reply." + +"But it is necessary you should. Please tell the bench." + +"No, I have never married him." + +"Are you guilty or not guilty of attempting the life of General Monk?" + +She looked at her father before replying, and reading in his face the +resolution to tell everything, she replied-- + +"I am not guilty." + +"But you were seen in his house, you wounded his secretary." + +"That is not true." + +"What evidence have you whereby you can prove your innocence?" + +"I can prove that I was not in London at all at that time." + +"Where were you then?" + +"I can answer that when I am brought before a proper tribunal." + +"Do you assert that this is not a proper tribunal?" + +"Yes. If it were, my accuser should be here to accuse me. You have no +right to try me here at all." + +At this there was some discussion, and I believe that Master Cobb +maintained that in the strict meaning of the law, it was the duty of the +justices to detain her until she was formally charged by her accusers, +but they were too curious to allow this so they went on with the trial. + +"You say you can prove that you were not in London at the time of the +attempted murder?" + +"I can." + +"Where were you at the time?" + +"Answer, answer," said Master Leslie eagerly. + +"I was in my father's house at Barnet." + +"You say you can prove this?" + +"I can prove it, Sir William, for I was myself there at the time. Also +there be servants who can take oath to it." + +This was spoken by Master Leslie eagerly. + +"Then how came you to be accused of this crime?" + +A great fear came into her eyes again, and she looked towards her father +pleadingly. + +At this Master Leslie spoke again. + +"I have more than one daughter, Sir William, and if this guilt is to be +fastened on one of them, it must be fastened upon my daughter Dorcas, +who married Sir Charles Denman, and who lived in London. Thus, my +daughter here, knew nought of the outrage until after it was committed." + +"But General Monk's secretary heard her say she was called Constance +Denman." + +"I will explain that, although, as my daughter saith, this is not the +proper tribunal for her to be judged, but I will tell the truth so that +you may see that you do wrong by detaining her as a prisoner. My +daughter Dorcas is the wife of Sir Charles Denman, as I have said. God +hath not been pleased to give her the faculties of mind which He hath +been pleased to give to my daughter here, and she became the slave of +the man she married. It was her husband who commanded her to assume the +garb of this my daughter here, it was her husband who commanded her to +make it known that she was called Constance. Then," and here Master +Leslie's voice became tremulous, "after she had escaped, my daughter +Constance, who hath been unjustly imprisoned, in order to save her +sister, so great is her love for her, assisted her to keep in safe +hiding, and even appeared with Sir Charles Denman as his wife, in order +to attract all suspicion upon herself, and save her sister." + +There was a silence which could almost be felt as he said this, and I +saw that the face of Mistress Constance was pale, as I thought with fear +and shame. + +"Thus my daughter here is guilty of nought save of a great and +overmastering love for her sister," went on Master Leslie. "To save her +she hath allowed herself to be hunted like a fox, to save her she hath +travelled alone with her sister's husband." + +The place had ceased to be a court of justice, and there was scarcely a +man there but who forgot that nought was being conducted as the law +provided. + +"By this means she hath succeeded up to now in diverting attention from +her sister, neither would she even now have told what I have told." + +"This is a strange story, Master Leslie," said the presiding justice. + +"It is strange," said the other, "but I could not stand by and see my +innocent child suffer for her sister, and that is why I rode hither +through the night, so that she might be set at liberty forthwith." + +"And where is your guilty daughter?" + +"I do not say she is guilty. Nay, I am sure she was but the tool of the +man she married. But where she is now I know not, for never have I seen +her since the night when the thing was attempted. All I have known is +that my daughter here hath even made it known that she hath been in +various places, so that she might keep any from suspecting the +hiding-place of her sister. Of one thing I am sure, she is far away from +here, else had not my daughter Constance given herself up here in +Bedford. Therefore I pray you, Sir William, to let her return to my +house at Goodlands, until I can prove to his Majesty's judges that she +was not in London on the night when General Monk was in danger of his +life." + +At this there was again a consultation among the justices, and I verily +believe that had not Master Leslie taken part in the king's father's +death, they would have done even as he had asked, but several of them +were strong Royalists, and hated Master Leslie and all his ways, while +the others who had sympathy with him were afraid that when the matter +came to the king's ears, he would be displeased at such a course of +action. + +So it was presently decided that, although the case had taken an unusual +course, nought had yet been proved, and that seeing the king had taken +especial interest in the matter, he must be informed as to what had +taken place, and that meanwhile Mistress Constance must be confined in +Bedford Gaol until the will of those in high places had been made known. + +When the matter of my own imprisonment was brought forward it was +decided that as I was evidently in league with Mistress Constance, and +that as I had been guilty of a grave breach of the law, I must also be +kept in prison until their worships had heard from London as to what +should be done with me. + +A little after noon, therefore, I was back in my prison again, and if +the truth must be known, glad to be alone that I might think over what I +had heard. For surely I had enough wherewith to puzzle my head. It is +true the revelations which had been made had made clear many things +which I had been unable to understand, yet many more remained in +darkness, and in spite of many hours of thought I could see but little +light. + +Nevertheless, there was no happier man in Bedford than I, for although I +knew that Mistress Constance cared nought for me, the way she had +looked at me in the court proved that, I could think of her and love her +without sin. And this I did until my heart ached with very loving. + +For four days I neither saw nor heard aught of her, for the gaolers +would speak no word, neither did Master Sturgeon come near me, but at +the end of the fourth day I was told it was the king's will that we +should proceed to London town without delay. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE JOURNEY TO WINDSOR + + +A great crowd gathered around the gaol at Bedford to see Mistress +Constance Leslie and myself start for London. This was but little +wonder, for the revelation made in the Chapel of Herne had spread like +wildfire, and people had come from the whole country side to see us +depart. I noticed too that we were not regarded with anger, nor treated +with contumely. Rather I judged that Mistress Constance was looked upon +with great favour, and I verily believe that had they been encouraged, +the people would have cheered her with great gusto, for they looked upon +her, not as one who had done aught to be ashamed of, but as one who had +bravely suffered much for another's sake. As for myself they knew nought +of me except my name, for this I had made known in the Court House, and +that I had succeeded in helping Mistress Constance out of prison. +Neither was this regarded as a great sin. Indeed it was believed that I +knew of the truth of what Master Leslie had told, and therefore it was +natural for me to render what help I was able. Concerning our former +meeting I had of course been silent, and although I had been questioned +closely I had given no answer which made any one the wiser. + +One thing pleased me beyond measure, and this was the fact that Black +Ben was returned to me, and that I was allowed to ride him to London. +This I suspect was owing to the kindness of Sir William Franklin, who +had known my father and had fought by his side during the first civil +war. + +We were, however, carefully guarded, so carefully that quite a company +of armed men rode out of Bedford, making as I thought a good show that +bright summer morning. + +We must have travelled at least six miles before I had a chance of +speaking to Mistress Constance, for although we rode side by side in the +midst of those who guarded us, we had no chance of speaking a word to +each other. For that matter I do not think she desired speech, for +either she looked straight forward, or else looked away to the right, +which was in the opposite direction from where I was. + +When we had travelled a few miles, however, we were less closely +watched. The constables talked with each other, now and then passing a +jest, and again telling of the fine times they hoped to have when they +reached London. Indeed I saw that while they took care there was no +chance of escape, they paid us less and less heed. + +Therefore as I had opportunity, I drew my horse so close to hers that my +right foot almost touched her riding habit. + +"I trust I have done nought to offend you," I said, looking into her +face. + +But she did not reply for several moments, but rather turned away her +head from me. + +"When you speak to me look straight on," she said. + +I saw the wisdom of her words, for although the guard was more lax than +when we left Bedford, I knew that watchful eyes were constantly upon us. +I therefore obeyed her, and waited for her answer. + +"How can I be offended, when you have tried to be my friend?" she asked; +"but did you not tell me that you spoke the French tongue?" + +"Yes," I replied in that language. "I do not speak freely, but perhaps +enough to make you understand." + +"Then speak to me in that tongue. You can understand now why I could +tell you nothing when we first met." + +"Yes," I replied, "I understand. It has made me very happy." + +She gave me a searching glance. It was only for a moment that she +looked, but I felt the beat of my heart quicken. + +"There is much that you do not know--cannot know." + +"I know enough to make me very happy," I repeated. "Almost ever since I +saw you first I have felt a great burden upon my heart. Now it is gone." + +"You believed I was guilty of--of----" here she stammered, and seemed at +a loss how to finish her sentence, but I noticed the bitterness of her +voice. + +"No," I interrupted eagerly. "Never for one moment." + +I thought her eyes grew softer, for I could not help looking at her as I +spoke. + +"Why then have you been made happy?" + +"Because I know you are not the wife of that man." + +The blood mounted to her cheeks, and the moment I saw this I turned away +my head. + +"You have been very good to try and help me," she said, "but it does not +avail, it will not avail." + +"I have done nothing," I replied, "nothing to what I would do if I +could." + +"Yes, you have done much. You have helped me to save my sister." + +"Unconsciously," I replied. "I know nothing of her. If I had known I +should not have cared. It was only you I wanted to help." + +"It does not matter about me. She must be saved whatever may happen. I +will see to that." + +"Then you do not fear what the king may do?" + +"No, I do not fear. But do not speak again, the men are beginning to +watch us." + +I pretended to be examining Black Ben's saddle, and to attend to one of +the buckles which kept up the left stirrup. + +"What's the matter Master Rashcliffe," said one of the guards. + +"Hath some one been meddling with my stirrups?" I asked. "They seem too +short." + +"They can be seen to when we stop at mid-day for food," he replied. + +After that we rode on for another mile without speaking. + +"I think I shall have some favour with the king," I said presently. "If +so, you will soon be free." + +"Perchance you will be free, but not I," she replied. + +"If I am free you shall be free," I made answer. + +"No." + +"Why?" + +"Because the king's prisons will be guarded too closely. London gaols +are not like Bedford Gaol." + +"But why should you be put in a London gaol? You have done nothing." + +"No; but then I shall tell nothing." + +"Ah," I said, catching at her meaning. "Then you know where your sister +is?" + +I spoke the French tongue and in a low voice, but she looked around +nervously, and although she gave no answer I knew I had surmised the +truth. + +"Do not expect the worst," I said, "God lives." + +"Yes, God lives, and I do not fear. Let the king do his worst." + +"He may not suspect." + +"But he will. When it is told him that I have--have done these things +for my sister's sake, he will ask me if I know where she is." + +"And you will not tell?" + +"I shall not tell where she is. Then he will make me bear her +punishment." + +"No, I will save you." + +Again she looked at me searchingly, and I thought I saw a glad light +leap into her eyes. After that she gave a quick glance round as if to be +sure that no one listened. + +"No, you cannot save me. I am my father's daughter. Even now I am told +that the king is planning a terrible vengeance on those who took part in +his father's death." + +"I will save you," I said quietly, and confidently. "Do not fear. +Whatever happens do not fear. It may be that I shall not be able to do +this in a day, or in a year--although I think I shall, but I will do +it!" + +"Why should you do it?" + +"Because I love you." + +I saw her start in her saddle, while her hands clutched her bridle rein +nervously. + +"That was why I was made so happy when I knew you had not married that +man. I loved you even while I thought you were his wife. I fought +against it because I thought it was a sin. But I could not help it. It +never came to me until the other night when I saw them taking you to +prison. I loved you before then although I did not know it. But I knew +it then. I was glad when they left me alone in prison, because I could +think of you. I did not sleep all the night. My heart was aching with +love, all the more because I thought it was sinful, but I could not help +loving you. Whatever happens now, I shall love you till I die." + +"No! No!" + +"Yes. I know you do not care for me; but I have my joy, the joy of +loving." + +"But you must not--it is wrong." + +"Why is it wrong?" + +"Because it is foolishness. I have taken another's burden--I may speak +of it now. I have taken it willingly--gladly, but the burden means a +curse to the one who bears it." + +"Then I will try and bear some of the curse. Nay, do not deny me this. I +must whether I will or not. Nothing you may say or do will alter me. I +shall love you until I die. Besides, I am going to save you." + +She did not say a word to this, but looked straight on. We were passing +through rich loamy lands. All around the trees were in the glory of +their summer garb, while the birds sang lustily from tree branch, and +from hazel twig, but I do not think she either saw or heard. + +I had eased my heart in speaking, and so I said no more for the time. +Never perhaps had a man a more doubtful future than I, and yet I could +have shouted for very joy. She heard not the song of the skylark as it +mounted to the heavens, nor the notes of the thrushes as they poured +forth their music to God. But I did, and it seemed to me as though they +were God's messengers telling me not to be afraid to love, for it was +His will. That she could ever love me never came into my heart. How +could she? What was I that a maid so peerless in her beauty, so glorious +in her life of sacrifice for another, should ever think of me save as +one who delighted to do her will? But I had the joy of loving, and +although my love were full of pain, and unsatisfied yearnings, I still +loved, and rejoiced in it. + +"Why? Why?" I heard her whisper presently. + +"Because God would have it so," I made answer. "He brought us together +that I might love you, and serve you. And this I will do as long as I +have life and thought!" + +"But if I am thrown into prison?" + +"I shall still love you. Prison is nothing. Love has broken the bolts +from many a prison door before this, aye, and will again." + +"But what is the use of loving me?" + +"To serve you." + +"But if you cannot serve me?" + +"Then I shall still have the joy of loving you. This let me say: what +will happen I know not, but you must not be afraid. I shall be always +thinking about you--always." + +"But the king may keep me in prison for years." + +"He will not; but if he does, what then? He cannot live for ever. +Suppose we never meet again until we are old, I shall still love you." + +Again there was a long silence between us, so long that I thought she +had forgotten all I had said, so long that my mind had begun to wander. +I had begun to paint pictures of the future years when we, both grown +old, had met again, and I had renewed my vows to her. + +"But if I were to love another, and wed him, what then?" She said this +suddenly, as though the thought had just occurred to her. + +"I don't know," I said, and my heart grew cold as I spoke. "Of course +you can never love me, but I shall pray God that you may never love +another." + +"Love is not for me," she said presently; and I knew she was thinking of +what might happen to her. + +"If I were only worthy it would be," I said. "I have learnt many things +since that night before the trial in the Chapel of Herne. I have learnt +that love laughs at the wisdom of the wise. Do you know that the walls +of Bedford Gaol troubled me not one whit nor did the presence of the +gaolers keep me from seeing your face. We are guarded now on the right +hand, and on the left. We can hear the rough laugh of those who watch +over us, can hear the clanking of their spurs, and the noise of horses' +hoofs, but for two hours I have never thought of them. We have our life +in our own hearts--that is why." + +After that we spoke not a word to each other throughout that long day, +for our keepers began to guard us more jealously, especially when they +discovered that they could not understand the language we spoke. My +heart hungered for further speech with her, nevertheless I was happy, I +had told her of my love and she was not angry; nay more, my promise to +help her seemed to give her confidence. + +I have thought since that never did a man tell a maid of his love under +stranger circumstances. We were guarded on the right hand and the left, +and we were being taken to judgement for having defied the laws of the +land, yet had I chosen this time to declare the passion of my heart. A +few hours hence prison doors might clank upon us again, while perchance +the anger of those in high places might be so aroused that it might be +made impossible for us ever to set eyes on each other from that day. +Still I told her of my love, while my heart, in spite of pain, sang for +very gladness. After all I was only a boy, and a boy whose heart is on +fire recks not of circumstances. + +I noticed presently that we were not going straight to London town, but +that we took a road to the right. I asked the reason for this; but no +reply was given me. For that matter, the constables on guard seemed as +much in the dark as I, and this set me wondering all the more. + +We kept up a brisk pace all the day, travelling as I should judge, with +the exception of the time we stopped at a wayside hostelry for food and +refreshment, eight miles an hour. The road, especially when we left the +highway to London, was none of the best, being, in truth, little more +than track. Still we kept up good speed, and presently, when I saw the +towers of Great Castle I judged the reason why we had turned aside from +the high road. + +"That is Windsor," I said to myself. "It is as I thought; we are to be +taken to the presence of the king." I looked towards Mistress Constance +Leslie, and I perceived that she had also seen the castle. Perchance she +also had drawn the same conclusion. But she shewed no sign of fear. The +same steady light burnt in her eyes, while I knew from the steady +compression of her lips that although Charles Stuart might be a hundred +times king he would not be able to bend her will. + +Even although I thought much of what might befall us when we were +brought into the king's presence, I could not help comparing the +fortunes of Charles Stuart with those of a few months before. Then he +dared not come near the land, which he in spite of his banishment called +his own, while now he reigned in a royal palace. Then, under the sway of +Oliver Cromwell, he could have found but few to do his bidding, but now +each man vied with the other to be foremost in fawning servility. In +like manner, moreover, had the whole tone of the country changed. The +Puritan garb, and the Puritan manner of speech which had been so common, +were scarcely anywhere present. A rollicking devil-may-care attitude had +taken the place of sober seriousness. + +I paid but little heed to the happenings near Windsor town, and Windsor +Castle. My eyes were too constantly fixed on the woman I loved, and my +heart was too full of fear lest some discourtesy might be paid to her. +But I believed then, as I believe now, that command had been given for +her to be treated as became her rank, rather than as one who had +offended the king, for during the whole journey I neither saw nor heard +anything which could give her pain. + +We went straight to the Royal Palace, the beauty of which impressed me +greatly as I drew near to it. Nought, I think, could be fairer than the +broad park lands, studded with stately oaks, amongst which deer +frolicked and gambolled. Flowers bloomed everywhere, and the air was +laden with their perfume. + +As we rode along I heard gay laughter, and I could have sworn I saw the +king with a company of ladies standing by a broad sketch of water, +throwing food to the birds which swam gracefully around. + +A few minutes later we were in the Castle itself. This surprised me +greatly, for I fancied we should be taken to one of the houses near, and +lodged there until it was the king's pleasure to see us; but as I said +we were taken straight to the Castle, although not to one of its main +entrances. + +Directly I had entered, however, I lost sight of Mistress Constance. +This distressed me sorely, but I comforted myself with the thought that +as she had been treated with such kindness throughout the journey she +would not now receive aught but civility. I noted that I was received +with some consideration. Food was placed before me, and a comfortable +seat at a table. As may be imagined, I was thankful for this, for I was +both weary and hungry. Half an hour later, however, my weariness had +gone. I had been able to appease my hunger, to brush my clothes and to +souse my head in cool pure water, so that instead of desiring rest I +looked and listened eagerly for aught I might be able to see and hear. + +As I said I was not treated as a prisoner, although two men remained +near me. I was, however, allowed to move around and take note of what +might happen. + +Many persons came and went. Mostly they were gay young gallants, +although now and then I saw gray heads and sober faces. I saw that many +looked at me curiously, and then whispered to each other. + +"I hear that when his Majesty hath supped, he hath willed to have this +young couple before him." + +This I heard plainly, and I thought the man who spoke looked towards me +as he spoke. + +"Ay," replied the man who was by his side, "his Majesty hath been at +Windsor only two days, and yet he is already weary of the place. After +all, eating and drinking, although it be in a king's palace, palls on +one." + +"And yet his Majesty is a good trencherman, and loves his wine." + +"As to that, yes. That is true of all the Stuarts until their digestion +is gone. But there is not a play to be seen here. In truth, for that +matter the theatres of London, in spite of all that is being done, be in +a shocking condition. As you know the king loves the drama, and already +several are being written for his special delectation. I warrant you +there will be no Puritanism in them save that it will be laughed at. As +for morality--well the saints know we have had enough of that during Old +Noll's time. Faith, I am fairly longing to see and hear one which I hear +Master Tom Killigrew is preparing. It is to be strong meat I hear." + +After this they fell to talking about things with which I will not +sully this history, for although the thing soon became common enough, I +have no wish to write of the infidelity of wives, the faithlessness of +husbands, and the duelling and brawling which followed in their train. +It was revealed to me with great quickness, however, that already +looseness of living had not only become the order of the day, but that +it was talked about as though it was something to be boasted of. + +Presently they again came back, as I thought, to the king's will +concerning Mistress Constance and myself. + +"I hear the king was mightily disappointed when he heard that the +Puritan's daughter did not try to kill Monk." + +"Ay, but she did." + +"No, not the one that is brought here. Still it is said he is greatly +interested in the beauteous maid who has tried to save her sister. I +hear that both she and the young springald who sought to set her at +liberty are to be brought before him directly after supper. It will be +better than play-acting, he saith, and will give diversion to the +company." + +"Are they to be brought before the king's guests?" + +"Ay, so I hear. It should be rare sport." + +"But a curious way of administering justice." + +"Tush, man. Charles Stuart cares nought for Monk, although he hath made +him the Duke of Albermarle, but he doth love diversion. The maid is fair +too, fair as an angel I have been told. Old Leslie hath hidden her from +sight all her life, and this will only make her of more interest to +Charles." + +After this they went away, while I tried to understand what it all +meant. Nought happened for wellnigh two hours, however, and then two +lackeys in gaily coloured livery came to me, and bid me follow them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +CHARLES II AS A JUDGE + + +Whether special arrangements had been made for our coming I know not, +but as I judged the whole party of ladies and gallants who had gathered +around were seated as if in expectation of being entertained. Moreover, +many curious eyes were upon me as I entered, as though my coming were of +some importance. The king, however, scarce took any notice of me. He +gave me one keen searching glance, and then turned to a gaily dressed +and handsome woman, and spoke to her I thought as if he were partly in +grim earnest and partly jesting. + +Evidently the party had supped in another chamber, although wine was +brought in and partaken of freely both by the ladies as well as by the +gaily-dressed gallants. I thought nothing of this, for even while I was +in London I had heard that the king had broken down many of the rules of +courtly etiquette. + +I noticed that the apartment was of large proportions, and of great +beauty, but which of the state rooms it was I did not know, neither for +that matter do I know to this day, for this was the only occasion I have +ever seen it. + +I glanced from one face to another in the hope of seeing Mistress +Constance, but nowhere was she visible. This disappointed me much, for +although I had parted from her but for a few hours, my heart fairly +ached to behold her again. + +"Will you stand here?" + +I stepped to the place I had been bidden, and as I did so anger filled +my heart, for I saw that I was made the gaping stock of all the crowd of +giddy revellers who were there. I felt the blood rush to my face, but +nought came to me to say. What in truth could I say? The king's black +beady eyes were turned furtively upon me, while sitting in the shadow I +saw the face and form of the Duke of York, the king's brother. + +There could be no doubt about it. The king had brought a royal party and +their friends to Windsor, and I was brought there to give my lords and +their ladies some entertainment. + +For a few moments all eyes were turned upon me. Some quizzical and +curious, some wondering, some laughing at my evident anger, others as if +watching for what might come next. + +No word was spoken to me, although I could hear them talking about me. + +"Rashcliffe, you say. A good name anyway. Oh, his father fought for the +Royalists in the time of the king's father, did he?" + +"If he were fittingly attired he would be the bravest looking man in the +room." + +"He's in a temper! look! Ay, but I like him the better for that. He hath +spirit. What led him to help the girl out of prison?" + +"Is she to be brought here at the same time? It would be better sport +so." + +"He looks ready to fight any man here." + +"What do you think the king will do with him?" + +And so on. They knew I could hear much of what they said, and yet they +discussed me as though I were the king's spaniel which I saw sat upon +his Majesty's knee. + +After a few minutes there was another hush, and looking towards the door +I saw Mistress Constance enter. The light of the candles did not make +the great apartment very bright; but I saw that she had been in the +hands of a tiring woman, who had dressed her with great care. She was +attired more plainly than they, although I doubt if any were dressed +with more beauty. Her hair, moreover, was carefully arranged after the +fashion of the times, and I saw it gleam in the candlelight. + +Every eye in the room was upon her, and no wonder. Fair as were many of +the court dames who had gathered there, not one of them could compare +with Mistress Constance. Her face was flushed, half I thought with +anger, for she as well as I must have realized that she was brought +there to give the king pleasure as well as to be judged for what she had +done. In truth the whole matter seemed to me at that moment as mere +play-acting. This was no judgement hall at all. It was a gathering of +the king's friends, and the king thought to entertain himself and them +by what should take place. + +Nevertheless, I saw that she was in no mood to be trifled with. Her eyes +shone with a steady light, and I knew by her compressed lips that she +meant to bear whatever ordeal through which she had to pass, without +fear. Her movements, moreover, showed no excitement. She walked steadily +into the compartment, carrying herself as though she were a queen. The +women there saw this as well as I, and if they envied her it was no +wonder, for a more beauteous face, or a nobler formed maiden surely +never stood before a king. + +I turned and took one look at Charles, and I noted that his eyes were +opened wider than was their wont, and there was a look in them for which +I would gladly have killed him. His pale, fleshy face was eager, too, as +though he were vastly enjoying himself. For a moment he seemed to forget +the dog he had been fondling, as well as the handsome woman to whom he +had been speaking. + +"Lucy Walters must have been fair indeed if she were fairer than she." + +Who said this I do not know, but it raised my anger almost to madness to +think that the woman I loved should be mentioned in the same breath with +the mother of the lad who might one day be king of England. In the eyes +of some of the women was jealousy, and I saw them draw up their +shoulders disdainfully, yet they never took their eyes from Mistress +Constance's face. As for some of the young gallants, they looked as if +they would devour her beauty by a glance. + +For a moment the king seemed at a loss what to say. I thought I saw him +open his mouth to speak more than once, and then close it again, as +though he had chosen the wrong words. Presently, however, he turned to +some one, and said-- + +"Bring a chair for the fair maid to sit on. She hath travelled far +to-day, and although she gives no sign of it, must be weary." + +A chair was placed close by where I stood, and Mistress Constance came +and sat down as though she were the king's guest, rather than as a +prisoner waiting to be judged. + +"We have heard strange things concerning you," said the king as she sat, +and I saw that his black, beady eyes were still upon her, while his lips +parted with a smile. "You see, however, that we are not very angry, and +thus you are bidden to be seated in the king's presence." + +Mistress Constance did not speak at this, although each one there was +silent, waiting, I doubt not, to hear what she might say. + +"In truth, so little are we angry," he went on, "especially after +hearing of your brave deeds, that we would have you come and kiss our +hand, rather than think of yourself as a prisoner." + +I think my heart almost stopped beating at this, for king though he was, +his profligacy was freely spoken of, even by those who cared most for +him, and it was torture beyond words to think of the woman I loved +kneeling before him and kissing the hand which he would have extended. + +"I dare not so honour myself," said the maid quietly, and her voice +seemed to me as music. "For while I greatly rejoice in Your Majesty's +kindness, yet do I remember that I was taken from prison to be brought +here, in which prison I have been immured for days." + +"This is strange," said the king with a smile, "for truly I do feel like +granting you forgiveness for aught you have done, even before I hear +what you may say in your own defence. Had I been a justice at Bedford +the trial would have been short, and I doubt not but you would have been +as free as the nightingale which sings among the trees yonder." + +Even as he spoke we could hear the song of the nightingale, for the +windows were open, and the night was still. Moreover, so great was the +silence in the room, save for the voice of the king, that one could have +heard a pin drop. + +But Mistress Constance did not speak in answer to this, and in truth +there seemed nought for her to say. + +I thought I saw Charles Stuart's face harden at her silence, and I +fancied that he might be thinking of her father, as indeed I believe he +was by the question which he next asked. + +"Your name is Mistress Constance Leslie, daughter of one John Leslie, +who is by right of descent a baronet, although he useth not his title?" + +"Yes, Your Majesty." + +"I hear that you have a sister?" + +"Yes, sire." + +"And she is wedded, I hear, to one Sir Charles Denman?" + +She bowed as if in assent to this. + +"Is she your elder sister, or is she younger than you?" + +"She is older than I, sire." + +"Ah, I should have judged so. And right glad am I that you are not +wedded to this plotting, sour-faced Puritan. That would have been indeed +a sore pity. A clown with a travelling show might as well be wedded to a +princess. Is your sister as fair as you?" + +"Fairer," replied Constance. + +"Nay, nay, that is impossible," and the king smiled upon her, and as he +smiled I hated him, for it was the smile of a bad man. + +"You see," he went on, "that we are not treating you like one who hath +been guilty of great naughtiness, rather, we have brought you to our own +house, amongst our own friends. Nevertheless, it is known that the king +must do justice to all, and we promised his Grace of Albermarle that +this matter should be looked into. You say then that it was not you, but +your sister, the wife of the man Denman, who made this murderous attack +upon him." + +"I have never said so, sire." + +"What!" + +I noticed the change in the king's tone, and saw that his beady eyes +became hard. + +"I have never said so, sire." + +"Then do you plead guilty to the charge?" + +"Else why should I have flown from General Monk's anger?" + +For a moment Charles was silent, as though he knew not what to say, but +presently he burst out laughing. + +"Why, here my lords and ladies is a strange thing," he said; "and in +truth it is worth coming to England to see. The sight of one who seeks +to bear the shame of another is surely rare. Come closer, fair +Constance, and let me have a closer look at thee!" + +Again I wondered what she would do, for if I saw evil in the king's +eyes, so also I believe did she. + +"I may not come closer to Your Majesty," she said. + +"And why prithee?" + +"I am afraid to dazzle my eyes too much." + +The king did not notice the scorn in her voice, else he had been angry. +Instead he laughed gaily. + +"We must do something to help you, fair Constance," he said, "for you +please us much, and I would fain have you near me often. Nevertheless, +justice is justice, and I must e'en keep my word and probe this thing to +the bottom. Now whether it was you or another who sought to lay +murderous hands upon the Duke of Albermarle can easily be proved. What +say you, Your Grace? You say you saw the woman; can you assert that it +was those pretty hands which held the bloody knife?" + +I turned and saw the Duke of Albermarle. He had been standing in the +shadow, so that I had not recognized him, but now he stood out clearly, +and I noted that his dark searching eyes travelled slowly up and down +Constance's form. + +"No, Your Majesty, it was not she. At first I thought it was, for truly +the other is like her; but there is much difference, and the longer I +look the more difference do I see. The murderous woman was not so tall +as this fair maid by at least three inches, neither are the features +altogether alike, although there is a resemblance." + +"You could take your oath on this, Albermarle?" said the king. + +"Certainly, Your Majesty." + +"Ah then, we have made the first step in our voyage of discovery. So you +see, fair Mistress Constance, although you would condemn yourself you +cannot get another to condemn you. And truly this is a strange thing, +for hitherto I have found it true, especially of women, that they be +always ready to excuse themselves, while others be always ready to blame +them. Master Killigrew, here is a subject for a poem, and see that it is +fittingly done." + +At this moment I looked again at Constance's face, and for the first +time I beheld fear. I saw her lips trembling, while in her eyes there +was a look of terror, as though she would fain have escaped. + +"Thank you, Your Majesty, then you pronounce me innocent?" + +"Ay, innocent of that fair Constance. Not that I have doubted it from +the first moment I saw you. Yet have I to ask these questions that no +man might doubt." + +"Then I may even go my ways and rid Your Majesty of my presence?" she +said eagerly. + +"Nay, nay, not so soon, fair maid," said Charles. "It is not so oft that +one heareth speech so pleasant. Besides the matter is not dealt with +yet. Tell me, I pray thee, how thou didst accomplish this, and how thou +didst so long evade thy pursuers?" + +For a moment Constance hesitated, while the king watched her, a smile +half of irony, and half of merriment being upon his lips. + +"Is it your will that I shall tell you this, Your Majesty?" she asked. + +"Ay, that it is. I would not that my lords and ladies should miss such a +story. Its matter must be, I am sure, strange to them." + +"There is little to tell, Your Majesty; besides it was very easy." + +"You mean that your pursuers were such fools?" said the king with a +laugh. "Ay, I can well believe it. But to your story. And mark you I +have become so accustomed to listen to lies that I can detect one from +afar." + +I saw anger gleam from Constance's eyes as he said this. + +"Even although I tried to save my sister, I have never lied concerning +it," she cried. + +"Nay?" said the king smiling. "Truly your conversation becomes more and +more interesting. Truth is so rare. Pray listen carefully my lords and +ladies." + +"When my sister came to my father's house, having done this thing, I +e'en clothed myself in her attire, and then having shewed myself to her +pursuers I escaped." + +"And they followed you?" + +"Ay, they followed me." + +"Ah; but this is a rare jest!" said the king laughing. "Truly the most +of mankind is made up not only of knaves, but of fools. But how did you +escape them?" + +"Oh, it was night and I knew ways which they did not." + +Again the king laughed, and then continued, "And now, Mistress +Constance, there is but one other thing I would ask, and if thou +answerest truly, although thou art the daughter of a man whom I find it +hard to forgive, thou shalt be free as air. Dost thou know where this +sister of thine is now?" + +I knew this was the question which Constance dreaded, but she answered +bravely. + +"I do Your Majesty." + +"Then tell me." + +She was silent. + +"Come, speak plainly." + +"Nay, Your Majesty, I cannot tell you that." + +"But I command." + +Still Constance was silent, and I thought the king would have given way +to his anger. + +Presently he burst into a laugh, but the laugh had but little mirth in +it. He made me think of a dog who showed his teeth even while he wagged +his tail. + +"Ah, then we must e'en find out ourselves," he said, and there was a +snarl in his voice, although the mocking smile had not left his lips. + +"Young Master Rashcliffe may be able to give us some information," he +continued, and he turned suddenly to me. "Here methinks is also a +strange freak of nature, for verily on the day we landed at Dover, we +asked Master Rashcliffe if he desired aught as a favour from the king, +but he answered no. Our brother of York, however, cannot say the same +for his father. Come, Master Rashcliffe, can you tell us where Mistress +Constance's sister is? Dorcas, I believe, is the name given to her." + +"I know not, Your Majesty," I replied. + +"Come, that is a brave answer, and perchance a true one. Yet it may +cover up a big lie. Have you any suspicion where she is?" + +At this I was silent, for I believed I knew where the woman was in +hiding. I remembered what the farmer had told me at the inn near +Pycroft. I recalled the words which the woman who was with old Solomon +had said--"We have need to go to Bedford." I had also believed that the +reason Constance had given herself up to the constables who came to +search the house at Goodlands was that she was afraid they might find +her sister. Nevertheless I was not silent long, for I knew this would +arouse suspicion. + +"I have no knowledge whatever where she is, Your Majesty." + +"I did not ask for your knowledge but your suspicion," said the king +angrily. "Tell me, do you believe, do you think, have you a fancy that +you know where she is hiding?" + +I was silent, for what in truth could I say? + +The king laughed quietly. "It seems there are two who would defy +justice," he said. "Well, well, we shall see! But let us return a little +way. For what purpose did you seek to set this maid at liberty when she +was first put into Bedford Gaol?" + +"Because I believed she was imprisoned unjustly," I answered boldly. + +"Ah, I see. You thought yourself wiser than others. Had she told you +that she was innocent of the charge laid against her?" + +"No, Your Majesty." + +"Nor given you hint of it?" + +"No, Your Majesty." + +"Did she tell you of what she was accused?" + +"No, Your Majesty." + +"Ah, ah. The mystery deepens; but depend upon it we shall unravel it. +You were in Dover on the day of our landing, and yet the next night you +were in Bedford. You went there to set her at liberty. How did you hear +of her imprisonment?" + +"I heard it spoken of at Dover." + +"And then like a brave knight you rode away to set her free. Ah, well, I +like you none the worse for that. You have brains, and you have +decision. But this means that you had met her before. Where?" + +"Near Dover, sire." + +"What did she there?" + +"She never told me, sire." + +"Reports have reached me that you have been seen near an old house +called Pycroft, which is not a long ride from Dover. Did you see her +there?" + +"Yes, sire." + +"Ah! that is better. Why did you go there?" + +"I do not think Your Majesty would be pleased if I told you." + +"That is possible, ay likely. Such as you often do that which might not +please me. But tell me." + +"If I tell you I would rather speak to your private ear," I said. + +"Ay, and fancy you could get off a cock-and-bull story upon me. Nay, +nay, methinks we are getting to the bottom of this thing. Now then, what +led you to go to Pycroft?" + +"I had heard that there was something of great import there." + +"Ah, that is fine. But why should it displease me?" + +"Because it had to do with Your Majesty." + +"With me. With me. From whom did you hear of it in the first place?" + +"From a woman named Katharine Harcomb," I replied boldly. + +Charles Stuart started as though a wasp had stung him, and then he +shrugged his shoulders scornfully. + +"I am weary of this," he said, "for the thing hath ceased to be sport. +Let this boy and girl be securely guarded until I have time to look into +the matter carefully." And then he turned negligently to the woman with +whom he had been speaking, while the others in the company exchanged +meaning glances. + +It was near midnight that same night when I was brought before the king +again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE JUDGMENT OF THE KING + + +It came about in this wise. I had been taken away by myself into an +empty chamber, which was carefully guarded. Not that I was treated +rudely. Rather marked respect was paid to me, and I lacked nothing which +any man might desire. Nevertheless I had thought much of the scene +through which I had been passing, and what it all portended. I could not +help realizing that the king had dismissed us very abruptly, and that +sore displeasure had rested upon his face as I had spoken. As for +Constance, her condition troubled me more than my own. I had noted the +look in the king's eyes as he had watched her, and remembering what men +said concerning him, I feared much. I determined however that no harm +should happen to her, whatever might befall, for did I not love her with +all my heart, and had I not told her of my love? Moreover I had promised +that I would protect her, and as I thought of this, even prison walls +became as nought to me. It was while I was scheming how I should fulfil +my promise to her that a lackey entered the room and bade me follow him. + +This I did like a man in a dream, for a great silence had fallen upon +the king's palace, and everything appeared grim and ghostly. He led me +through long corridors, and tortuous ways, so that without a guide I +doubt if I could ever have found my way back to the room from which I +had come. Presently, however, I heard the sound of distant laughter, and +the noise of songsters, then as some intervening wall kept these sounds +from reaching me, I passed by an open window, and heard the +nightingales singing amongst the trees close by. + +The lackey spoke no word, neither good nor bad, to me. I thought he +looked sleepy, and would gladly have gone to his rest. Perhaps this was +true, for it was rumoured that the king kept strange hours, and expected +peculiar service at the hands of his servingmen. + +Presently I stood in a little ante-chamber, where I was bidden to wait +until it was the king's pleasure to see me, and here I waited I should +think a full hour. The first part of the time was weary enough, but the +second part passed like a flash of light, and this was because, even +although I had tried not to listen, I had to hear that which interested +me past words. + +Evidently I was close to the apartment where the king was, for every +word he spoke reached me with great plainness; but it was not his voice +which thrilled my heart, it was anothers, as I shall soon have to tell. + +"I pray thy pardon, pretty maid," I heard Charles say. "I know thou hast +had a long day's ride, and must be aweary, but I felt I could not sleep +until I had speech with thee again." + +"I have nothing to say to Your Majesty," replied the voice of Constance. + +"But I have much to say to thee, fair Constance. It is not oft that even +a king beholds one so fair, or hears one whose speech is so pleasing. +Besides, it will be to thine interest to listen to me, and to regard my +proposals favourably." + +The king's voice was, as I thought, thick with much wine, and I fancied +I could see the evil leer in his black beady eyes as he spoke. + +"I have brought thee here to-night," he went on, "so that I may tell +thee of many things. And first, I desire that thou shouldst tell me what +thou didst refuse but a few hours since. Where is this Puritan sister of +thine?" + +"And if I told Your Majesty?" + +"Ah, pretty Constance, if it had been thee--well I fear thou wouldst +have too lenient a judge. But thy sister is the wife of Denman, a man +whose immediate arrest I have commanded. A bitter, sour-faced, lying +Puritan, a man who took a leading part in the murder of my father. And +this sister of thine, well she tried to kill the man who sought to bring +me back to my kingdom. That is not easy to forgive. Had it been thy +little hand which would have done this, I should e'en have laughed at +Monk's dour face, and forgiven. And yet I must not forget. Thou hast +shielded thy sister; thou hast kept her from punishment, and +therefore--well, unless--but let me think----" + +"I have decided to forgive thee on two conditions," he went on +presently. + +"And they, Your Majesty?" + +"The first is that thou wilt tell me where this sister of thine is. The +second will, I trust, be pleasing to thee, for surely the king's smile, +and the king's companionship should----" + +"Pardon me, Your Majesty," cried Constance, "but there is no need to +speak of the second condition since I will never accept the first." + +"You will not tell me where your sister is?" + +"No, Your Majesty." + +The king laughed. "I must e'en find out without your telling," he said. + +"You never can;" and there was defiance in her voice. + +"Ah!" + +I noted the anger in his voice, and I forgot that I was listening to +conversation which the king never intended should reach my ears, so +eager was I to know what would follow. + +"It is said that I am of an easy temper," he went on presently, "and it +is hard to be angry in the presence of one so fair. Yet must the king be +obeyed. So be sure of this, pretty Constance. I will e'en find the +whereabouts of your sister. As for your father, he is already under +arrest, and it will depend on you as to whether he goes to the gallows +with the rest of my father's murderers, or whether he hold his head high +in the state." + +"On me, Your Majesty?" + +"Ay, on you, pretty Constance." And then he said words which I will not +write down, so base were they. + +"Of this be assured," he went on, and it was easy to see that wine had +unloosed his tongue, and driven away his judgement. "I will give no +quarter to these canting Puritans. Neither for that matter will I bestow +any favour upon these Presbyterians. I will have only such religion in +my realm as I please. Not that I am much wedded to religion at all, +especially that of the stern and strict nature. But this I know, it is +to the Episcopals that I owe my crown, and it was they who fought for my +father during the rebellion. Depend upon it, therefore, I will make +short shrift of these hot-gospellers, and I will see to it that only +those who are loyal to the crown shall be tolerated." + +"Then Your Majesty's promises will go for nothing!" And there was a +sting of scorn in Constance's tones, as well as in her words. + +The king laughed. "A man makes reservations even in his promises," he +said, "and think not that I am going to allow my father's murderers to +go around stirring up dissension, or hot-gospellers to preach rebellion. +Nay, you will soon see. The Puritans had no mercy, and _Grand Dieu_ +neither will I!" + +At this there was silence. + +"So, fair Constance, I beseech you for your own sake to--to be obedient +to my wishes, and----" + +"Will Your Majesty be pleased to forgive me," cried Constance. "It ill +becomes me to boast, but I am not afraid of death, and so I beseech Your +Majesty to mete out my punishment without delay." + +"You mean that----" + +"It would be better for me to die than that my father's child should +turn traitor or coward." + +At this I could not help giving expression to my gladness; indeed so +loud was the sound that escaped my lips that the king heard me. + +"Who is there?" he cried angrily. + +A minute later I was brought into the room where the king was. I saw +that his usually pale face had become of a purplish hue, while his slits +of eyes shot an angry light. + +"How now sirrah!" he cried, as I stood before him, "hast thou heard +aught of the conversation between me and this maid?" + +"I heard it all, sire." + +For a moment he did not speak, gazing first at Constance and then at +me. I also cast a hasty glance at the woman I loved, and in spite of my +helplessness my heart rejoiced. Her face was pale, but she showed no +fear, rather there was a look of confidence in her eyes, and an +expression of unalterable determination. + +Whether Charles II. realized this I know not, but I saw he was in no +humour to be played with. Perchance this was the first time his will had +been opposed since he had come back to England, for since that day I had +first seen him at Dover he had received little but fulsome adulation. + +"Thou hast heard all!" + +"All, sire," I replied steadily, for now I felt no scrap of fear. For +let who will say otherwise, Charles II., although King of England, was +not a man to inspire reverence or awe. He looked cunning rather than +thoughtful, sensuous rather than noble; one who, if he was kind, was +kind because it was less troublesome than to be cruel. He did not +impress me with his kingly presence, rather I thought of him even then +as a weak despot. + +He seemed to hesitate a moment as if to recall the conversation which +had taken place between himself and Constance, and then as if he +realized that nought of great importance was said, his brow cleared and +a look of resolution came into his eyes. + +"Thou knowest then that this maid, Mistress Constance Leslie, hath again +refused to obey her king?" + +"Yes, sire." + +"But, mark you, I will know the truth. Look you, young sir, I judged +that you know where her sister is. Speak the truth. I can detect a lie a +mile away." + +"I will tell you no lies, sire!" + +"Then I repeat the question, 'Do you know where this maid's sister is?'" + +"No, sire." + +"But you can make a shrewd guess? Come, yes or no. You believe you know +where she is?" + +"Yes," I made answer. + +"Ah, that is good. And now we will see, Mistress Constance, who is +master. Now we will see whether the king will not have his way." And +then again he said that which I will not write down. + +Surely, I have told myself since, he must have been brutalized by too +much wine, or he would never have spoken as he did, for his speech was +that of a villain in a fourth rate stage play, rather than of one in +whose veins ran royal blood. + +"I cannot get at you through your father," he said to her, "but I can +and will through your sister. You care nothing for the old +hot-gospeller; well, I can forgive you for that. But this sister of +yours, well, you have suffered much for her already, and would suffer +more. Ah, yes, pretty Constance, I see through you. To avert suspicion +from her you have e'en gone abroad as the wife of this Denman; you have +fetched and carried for him like a dog. Well, now, to save her, you +shall e'en do as much and more for your king. For if you will not, I +will make this sister of thine--but I will not speak of that now. You +will be wise, and do my will. Now then, Master Roland Rashcliffe, you +say you can shrewdly guess where this other daughter of John Leslie is. +Tell me, I command you." + +The king was gazing eagerly at me as he spoke, but instead of returning +his look I turned for a moment towards Constance, and I saw that her +eyes were imploring me not to speak. But there was no confidence in them +now; rather there was a great fear. She could depend on her own +fortitude, but not on mine. + +"I trust Your Majesty will not insist on this," I said. + +"And why, Master Malapert?" + +"Because I cannot obey your command." + +He took a step towards me as if in anger, but he stopped suddenly, and +then I saw a change come over his face. The old cunning leer came back +to his eyes again, the wine-inflamed, passionate man had gone, and +instead I saw the cynical mocking man I had seen land at Dover. + +He sat down on a low chair, and began to fondle his lap-dog, glancing at +us both curiously as he did so. + +"I am indeed fortunate," he said. "Mostly my servants say they will obey +me, and then seek to have their own will, while you say you will not +obey me and will have to do so in spite of all. Moreover, this youth +said he had no favour to ask at my hands. Well, and what game are you +playing, young master?" + +"I am trying to be an honest man," I replied. + +"Prithee come a little closer, for surely thou art a rare sight," he +said. "For twelve years I have been trying to find an honest man and a +virtuous woman, and up to now I have discovered neither." + +"And yet your mother is alive, sire," I said. + +Again his eyes flashed fire, and I thought he was going to call his +servants, and order that I should be thrown in some dungeon. But again +he mastered himself. + +"I have not made up my mind whether I shall give you the cap and bells, +or send you to the most stinking dungeon in Fleet Prison, Master +Rashcliffe," he said quietly. "But of that anon; at present I am vastly +enjoying myself. There is some reason in your mind which makes you think +you can answer your king as you have answered him. You fancy you have +some secret power over him. Come now, speak!" + +"That need not be Your Majesty. I was ever taught that a man's duty was +to protect a woman." + +Again he eyed me keenly, and presently he laughed quietly. + +"Ah, I see," he said; "now I understand. You have cast eyes on this +pretty Constance, and seek to gain her favour by this means. I thought I +should discover your motive. What! she hath looked coldly on you, eh, +and now you seek to win her favour. Ay, and what more likely to do this +than to stand by her in her difficulty! Is a man likely to do aught but +for self? Tell me, do you expect to win the fair Constance's love?" + +"Nay; I do not expect that," I replied. + +"Ah, I see; but you hope, eh--you hope?" and again he laughed. + +"Well, and why not, Master Rashcliffe? The king is still king in spite +of these accursed Puritans; and I tell you this, Charles II. will not be +ungrateful to loyal servants. General Monk is now Duke of Albermarle, is +he not?" + +I was silent, for why should I speak? + +"Now then, suppose I promise to look favourably on this match, will you +tell me where you believe this maid's sister is? Mark you, it will make +no difference whether you tell me or no, for I mean to find her, if +every house in England hath to be searched from cellar to cock-loft. +Now, will you tell me?" + +"No, sire." + +"Ah, then there is some other thought at the back of your brain. But +mind, you are both making a whip for your own backs. It is not often I +am so patient as to-night, so tempt me not too far." + +At this neither of us spoke, while Charles Stuart began to play with the +ribbon around his dog's neck. + +"What have you to say?" + +"Nothing, sire." + +"Yes, there is something. Three hours ago thou didst mention the name of +Katharine Harcomb. What did she tell thee?" + +"Of that which I have since seen, Your Majesty," I said boldly. + +"Ah--and what is that?" + +"That which if made known would alter the history of the nation, sire." + +"Where is it?" he cried, as if forgetting himself. + +"I do not know," I replied like a fool, for the moment I had spoken the +words, I realized that I had thrown down the only weapon by which I +could defend myself. + +The king laughed again quietly. + +"You are only fit for the cap and bells after all," he said quietly; +"just the cap and bells. Still, a fool may be dangerous if you put a +pistol in his hands, so the best way is to keep him out of harm." + +"But others know where it is!" I cried, for his words made me angry. + +"Who?" he cried. + +I was silent. + +"Tell me," he commanded, but I could not speak. For who was the old man +of Pycroft? Where was he now? At that moment all I had seen seemed but a +Jack-o'-Bedlam story, at which a cunning man like the king would laugh. + +He seemed to hesitate what to do, but presently he rose and pulled a +bell-rope, and before it ceased ringing the woman who had earlier in the +evening accompanied Constance entered the room, while I saw two male +lackeys at the door. + +The king gave some commands in a low voice, whereupon she prepared to +lead Constance away. My heart fell at this, for while I was brave and +confident in her presence, my courage ebbed away at the thought of her +leaving me. And yet it was not for myself that I feared, but for her. A +great dread came into my heart concerning the indignities which I +believed the king would place upon her, for I had heard his words, I had +seen the look in his black beady eyes. But I could do nothing. I had to +stand still while she left the room, and yet on her leaving I felt my +heart grow warm with joy. And no wonder, for as she walked away, she +turned around, and her eyes met mine, and then, although she never spoke +a word of love to me, I knew that I did not love her in vain. + +Let the king do his worst now, I did not fear, for I had a strength and +a joy of which he knew nothing. + +No sooner had the door closed than the king's mood changed again. + +"Now then we will speak plainly, Master Malapert," he said. "You know +where this maid's sister is?" + +At this I was silent, for surely there was no need of speech. + +"Well, it doth not matter whether you speak or no, that is as far as it +concerneth me. As for you, it mattereth much. But there is the other +matter; tell me what you know concerning that?" + +Whether I was wise or no I will not try to say, but I told him what I +had seen. + +"You say you saw this contract?" + +"Yes, sire, I saw it." + +"Signed by me?" + +"The name of Charles Stuart was affixed to it." + +He took a pen from a table and scribbled hastily on a piece of paper. + +"Like that?" he asked. + +"A facsimile of that, sire," I replied. + +For a time he was silent, and he took several turns up and down the +room, as though he were thinking. + +"You knew of this when I arrived at Dover?" + +"Yes, sire." + +"And when you went to the place again?" + +"It was gone as I have told you, sire." + +"You believe the old man hath it?" + +"Yes, sire." + +"And you have a suspicion where he is now?" + +At this I was silent, for what could I say. I believed that he was at +Goodlands, the house of John Leslie, and that his discovery would mean +the discovery of Constance's sister, the sister whom she was ready to +shield with her own life. Therefore, in spite of all the king's +commands, I held my peace, never by so much as a word or a suggestion +making known my thoughts. + +Again the king grew angry, and he threatened not the wife of Sir Charles +Denman, but Constance with a doom at which any honest woman must +shudder, but even then I could not speak, for if ever a woman's eyes had +commanded a man to be silent Constance's had commanded me. Besides, I +had no faith in the man before me. The promises he made to-day would be +broken at the very moment it pleased his fancy. + +And yet I believed that the king was not altogether displeased with me, +for even as he gave his commands concerning me he said-- + +"An honest man is a good thing, Master Rashcliffe, but when he is a fool +he must be e'en treated as a danger." + +Before the sun which was now rising went down, I was in a foul dungeon +in Fleet Prison. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +FLEET PRISON + + +I was kept in Fleet Prison for wellnigh two years, and during the first +year of that time I scarce ever spoke to a fellow-prisoner. Moreover, +none of my gaolers ever had speech with me. So silent were they when +they brought me my meals that I judged they had been commanded to be +silent. It was easy to divine a meaning in this, for if the king had +bidden that no man should speak to me he would be obeyed. And I believed +that he had done this, else why was I treated differently from all +others who were immured within those grim walls? Moreover there was a +reason why he should give the command. He did not desire that his +marriage with Lucy Walters should be known; he did not wish that the boy +James Croft should be spoken of as the future King of England. + +Of my sufferings during that year I will say but little. It is but +little to a man's credit that he should make known his tale of woe, +rather should he endeavour to make the best of his lot, and think of +what comforts he had. And yet if I would tell my story truly I must e'en +remark on the dark days I spent there, for they were dark days. For a +time I almost wished that I had no hope that Constance loved me, for it +seemed to make my burden harder to bear. But it was only for a time. I +could not help being glad because of the lovelight I had seen in her +eyes, even though the thought of it brought me pain; For bring me pain +it did. How could it be otherwise? I remembered the words of the king, +and I knew that he meant what he said. All nights have I lain awake, +heedless of the vermin that swarmed the cell, thinking of what had +become of her, and how she fared. For not one word did I hear. Whether +she was dead or alive I knew not. Whether she had escaped from the +king's power, or whether he cruelly persecuted her no one could tell +me. And this made my burden hardest to bear. If I knew she was dead I +think I could have borne up better, for I should know that she had died +thinking of me. Ay, I knew that, for no woman could look at a man as she +looked at me without thinking of him always. Even as I lay in the +darkness I remembered that look, and rejoiced. My imprisonment I would +not have minded one whit, if I knew she was safe. I did not even fear +her being a hunted refugee as she was when I had seen her first of all. +Nay, it was the thought of what was in the king's mind that drove me +wellnigh mad, and many a time while I was in prison had I wished that I +had seized his fleshy neck and strangled the life out of him, even +although I suffered the tortures of hell as a consequence. + +But I could do nothing. Day succeeded day, and week succeeded week, and +I heard not so much as a breath of a whisper. Besides I could do +nothing, for my prison door was safely locked, and not a vestige of +chance to hear aught of the outside world came to me. + +Thus a year passed away. During that time I had grown as weak as a +child. Each morning as I awoke a great nausea mastered me, and my mouth +was full of bitterness, until one day one of my gaolers watched me as I +was retching, and saw how faint and giddy I was afterwards, and then a +change was made in my condition. I was allowed clean clothes, a big tub +was brought to me so that I could bath myself, and a better cell was +given me. + +It was just after this that I heard something which set me thinking. Two +gaolers were outside my door, and I heard them talking. + +"Young Master Rashcliffe is better, eh?" + +"Ay, he is better. I am told he is to have more liberty." + +"What, mix with the other prisoners?" + +"Ah, why the change? Know you?" + +"No, I know not. For my part I am glad. It was fair sad to see him. He +was mad at one time." + +"Ay, that he was. Well, the prisoners be treated more harshly now than +in Old Nol's time." + +"Ay, and there are far more of them too. Have you heard about the king's +oath?" + +"Nay, I have heard of no oath save that he is going to stamp out the +Dissenters." + +"Nay, it hath nought to do with that, although the place is full enough +of them. It is about the black box." + +"What black box?" + +"Have you not heard? One of the big lords, I know not which, said that +an old man had shewed him the marriage certificate between the king and +that pretty Welsh wench, Lucy Walters." + +"Ah, no, I had not heard." + +"But it is so. Well, the king hath taken an oath that, while the lad of +whom there hath been so much talk is his son, he never wedded Lucy. I +hear the king was wellnigh angered to death when the thing got noised +abroad." + +"And what hath become of the old man who shewed the great lord the +thing?" + +"I know not; but the strange thing is that he claims to be Lucy Walters' +father." + +"And the king says it is a forgery?" + +"Ay, that is his oath." + +"That will end in the old man being caught and hanged." + +"Ay, they will have to hang him, for of a truth every prison in England +is full." + +"Perhaps the king will hang the Dissenters instead, and yet I should be +sorry. They cause no trouble in prison, even although there are so many. +The only thing for which I do not like them, is that they look at one so +mournfully if he should happen upon oath, or say something that is not +over pious." + +"Ha, ha! Then must they often look mournfully on you. But I do not like +their pious talk. I would rather have to do with prisoners which ought +to be here. As it is, the place is full of these pious people who were +preaching and praying in barns instead of in the parish church, and +singing their own hymns instead of abiding by the Prayer-book, while the +blackguards who used to be clapped into prison in Old Nol's time are +allowed to go free. Then prisoners were real prisoners--drunkards, and +wife-beaters, and thieves, and wizards, and witches; but now we have +hardly any but these pious people, who are guilty of nought worse than +singing hymns and preaching." + +"Still law is law, and the king is king. Besides, what would you, if the +king and the bishops will have everybody pray according to the +Prayer-book, what right have these Dissenters to pray in their own way?" + +After this they went away, and I heard no more of them. For several days +moreover there was no change in my condition, except that my prison was +clean and my food a little more wholesome. At the end of a week, +however, I found myself at liberty to move freely around among my +fellow-prisoners, and it was then that I understood the meaning of the +conversation I have recorded. For in truth the place seemed full of men +who were sent hither because they had disobeyed certain Acts of +Parliament, the which, as I understood it, meant that if any number of +people worshipped God in any other way than that prescribed by the +Prayer-book, or in any other place than the parish church, their +meetings could at once be pounced upon by the constables, and the +offenders haled before the magistrates, and sentenced to imprisonment. I +was also told that these Acts prohibited any person who had been guilty +of preaching the Gospel, other than those empowered by the laws of the +country, living within five miles of the town where they had preached. +With this news there came to me also the information that about two +thousand clergymen, most of whom were pious Godfearing men, were ejected +from their parishes because they could not obey laws which they believed +were contrary to the laws of God. Moreover, many of these clergymen, +believing they were called of God to preach, had continued to minister +to their flocks, with the result that the prisons of England were full +of them. + +In addition to this, the law, having regarded not only Nonconformist +preachers but Nonconformist worshippers as equally guilty, meetings were +broken up, and the guilty people were clapped into gaol without more +ado. + +I had never taken any considerable interest in such matters, yet now +that I saw these people in gaol, and heard their stories, I realized +that what the squire and vicar of the parish where I had seen such a +strange sight in the county of Kent had predicted had come to pass. + +One old man interested me greatly, for he spoke kindly to me, and +inquired lovingly after my condition. He had, so he told me, married +late in life, and had a family of a wife and five children. When the Act +of Uniformity was passed he was cast forth from his parish because he +would not be re-ordained, and then having been guilty of preaching the +Gospel to a few of his flock, and praying with them, he was seized by +the magistrates and cast into prison. + +"And what hath become of your wife and family?" I asked. + +"Ah, that is what grieves me sorely," he replied; "for myself I do not +mind one whit, except that I can no longer proclaim the glad news which +I was called to preach; but to think of my poor delicate wife wandering +helpless and homeless with my dear little ones grieves me beyond words. +I can do nought but pray for them, the which I do continually." + +"But why could you not obey the law?" I asked. + +"Obey the law! How could I? I had been ministering to my people for many +years, and God had given seals to my ministry by enabling me to lead +many to the Lamb of God, which taketh away the sins of the world. Then +came this law, which said that I had not hitherto been ordained of God, +and must be ordained according to priestly traditions. Now, how could I +do that? If I did, it would be tantamount to confessing that my previous +ordination was not of God. Then, again, I could not subscribe to every +word of the Prayer-book, for it is riddled with popery. The question +which the Apostle asked came to me--'Whether it be right to obey God or +man judge ye,' and I could only answer it in one way." + +"And be there many Nonconformists?" I asked. + +"You can judge something of that by the number who preferred to obey God +rather than man," he replied. "Two thousand and more have been ejected +from their parishes, while thousands of the people belonging to their +flocks are to-day suffering imprisonment for love of the true Gospel." + +"And who do you blame for all this?" I asked. "The king?" + +"Ay, I blame the king, but not him only. I blame the king because he +promised us fairly. Had he not so promised he would not have been +invited back. He promised that none of us should be disturbed, and that +every man should worship God according to the dictates of his own +conscience. As you know also the Act of Oblivion was passed, whereby all +those who took part in the death of the late king should be forgiven. +But what hath happened? His Majesty hath hanged many of those who +thought it their duty to put that man to death, and not contented with +this he hath dragged others from their graves and had their bodies +degraded." + +"Who among the living hath he hanged?" I asked. + +He named some whose names I did not know, and then I heard the name of +Master John Leslie. + +"Master John Leslie!" I cried, "hath he been put to death?" + +"Hanged at Tyburn," said the old man solemnly. "A good man and a +faithful he was, although I agreed not with all his tenets. He was +somewhat influenced by the Quaker doctrines of the man Fox, and would +not allow himself to be called Sir John Leslie, although he was entitled +to that honour." + +"And his daughters," I cried, "know you aught of them?" + +"They are both in hiding I am told." + +"The wife of Sir Charles Denman hath never been captured then?" + +"No, although how she hath escaped is a mystery, for Sir Charles hath +fled out of the country." + +"And the other sister?" I asked feverishly, for my heart was all aflame. + +"Ah, the other sister. God only knows what hath become of her, for it is +said that she found favour in the eyes of the king," he replied. + +At this I could not speak another word, for it seemed to me that nought +was left worth living for. But the old man did not heed my grief, +instead he went on speaking. + +"Not that I blame the king for all. The episcopal bishops and the +popishly inclined clergy have allowed him no rest. My brethren have +appealed for justice, but in order to please the clergy, Parliament hath +passed one law after another, each more abominable in the sight of God +than the other. Our greatest enemies everywhere have been those who have +wanted the heresies of the Prayer-book. They have hunted us from place +to place, they have given information to the magistrates, and have not +been contented until the Nonconformists have either sworn allegiance to +the Prayer-book or been thrust into prison. As for the king, he careth +more for his pleasures than aught else." + +"But if this is all for the good of religion?" I asked presently, +although my heart went not with my words. + +"Religion!" cried the old man. "Religion! where can we find it? Religion +is laughed at on every hand. Those in high places live in open sin, and +there are none to say them nay. The Court is turned into a pigsty. +Obscene plays are in all the theatres, while vice and profligacy are +actually boasted of in the streets of London. Even while we +Nonconformists be imprisoned in stinking cells the very worst sins are +condoned, excused, and in many places even praised, while the clergy +openly proclaim that they would rather have open sin than Nonconformity. +But this cannot be for long." + +"Why, do you think the king will relent?" + +"Relent! It is well known that he careth little for religion. How can +he, seeing the life he lives? It is said by those who know him best, +that he favours the Papist religion more than any other, and would bring +it back if he could. His mother hath a host of intriguing priests from +Rome with her every day; these priests are treated like great nobles, +and the king allows it--nay, smiles upon it. I have been told that +Charles Stuart doth not believe in our Lord Christ at all, and calls +himself a Deist. Such is the state of religion. People live for carnal +pleasures, while the virtue of maidens is laughed at as an idle tale." + +Conversation like this I heard again and again during the next few +months, and I judged from all that came to me from the outside world +that it was true. Meanwhile the prison became more and more crowded with +Nonconformists. Men, women, and even children were packed in this +evil-smelling place, and as far as I could discover their only crime was +that they desired to pray and to preach according to the dictates of +their conscience. + +Meanwhile, I learnt no more concerning Constance. I asked many +questions, but no man could give me an answer except that the king +regarded her with favour. + +Not once did my father visit me, at the which I wondered greatly, for I +knew that he loved me, and would not willingly allow me to remain here +to die like a rat in a hole as I was like to do. One day, however, after +I had been a long time here, my heart gave a great leap, for I heard his +voice speaking to a gaoler, and shortly after we were alone together. + +"I grieve much for you, Roland," he said presently, "and yet it is your +own fault." + +"My own fault, father?" + +"Ay, your own fault." + +"Why, what have I done?" I asked. + +"You have opposed the king's will," he replied; "you have used your +information like a fool." + +"But perchance you do not know all that hath taken place," I said; "you +do not know what the king would have had me do?" + +"Ay, I have heard all. Not that the news hath long come to me, for I +have only but lately arrived from France, where I have been at the +behest of James of York. Had I known earlier I would have been to see +you before, but I never dreamed that you would have been such a fool." + +My heart grew cold at these words, for my father spoke, as I thought, +strangely. + +"I went away with a light heart," he went on, "for I believed that you +had wit enough to make good use of whatever you should find out. I left +you enough money for all needs, and I believed that when I came back I +should find you in high favour with the king. Instead, I find that you +have espoused the cause of the daughter of a regicide, that you have +refused to obey the king's commands, and that you have acted like a fool +in relation to the discovery which you made." + +"What would you have had me do?" I asked. + +"Do!" he replied. "Did I not tell you from your earliest childhood that +no man would do aught for you, except that which would help forward his +own plans? And did I not trust you to make a wise use of your +knowledge? That is why I laid down no plan of action for you when we met +at Dover. I said 'the boy hath all his wits, and will be able to act +wisely when the right time comes,' Why, having once obtained the ear of +the king, thou shouldst have gone to him after what thou didst find out, +and thou shouldst have appeared before him as one anxious to serve him. +He would then, in his own interests, have rewarded thee with some fair +demesne and a wealthy dame's hand. Instead, what dost thou do? Thou dost +become the aider and abettor of this daughter of John Leslie, and when +obedience to the king would have found his favour, thou didst like a +fool refuse to do his bidding. Ay, and what happened then? The king, +being desirous of keeping his marriage with Lucy Walters a secret, and +knowing that thou wert a dangerous fool, clapped thee into prison." + +"And you, father," I said, "what have you done?" + +"I have done what I meant to do," he replied. "If the son is a fool +there is no reason why the father should be. I have so managed the king, +through His Grace of York that I have got my old lands back, so that in +spite of thine own foolishness thou wilt no longer be a landless +Rashcliffe. The king's marriage with Lucy Walters was not the only card +I had to play, so when my time came I played it, and I took the trick +too." + +At this I was silent, for somehow I felt my father to be a different +man. + +"If ever a man had his chances you had," my father went on. "I had known +for years that Katharine Harcomb had been trying to find out through +Lucy Walters' mother where the old madman Walters was, and I knew that +when she found out she would come and tell me." + +"How did you know?" I asked. + +"Because I had power over her. Because in her young days she had done +that which, if I had chosen to make known, would have sent her to the +gallows. Because I had made her promise that if ever she found out where +old Solomon, as he called himself, was, she dared do no other than to +tell me. She knew that he had got hold of the marriage contract; the +question was, where the old man was hiding." And then my father told me +a long story which I will not here set down, because it hath no real +bearing on my history. + +"You have disappointed me greatly," he went on presently. "You had a +chance such as few men have, and you spoiled it; you have gained the +king's enmity, and you have allowed yourself to be mewed up here in this +stinking hole with a lot of psalm-singing Nonconformists. Besides, you +have done no good by it all. The story hath come out, and the king hath +taken an oath that he did never wed Lucy. Therefore your knowledge doth +avail nothing." + +"But I saw the contract," I cried. + +"Ay, but the king hath taken his oath," he laughed. + +"What, to a lie!" I said. + +"The oath of Charles Stuart!" said my father. "What was his father's +oath worth? What is the son's oath worth? But you have spoiled your +chance. What matters whether the thing is a forgery or no? Now that the +thing hath come to light it doth not matter. That is what angers me. The +son in whom I trusted to have clever wits hath acted like a Puritan." + +"And am I to remain in gaol?" I asked. + +"As to that, no," he replied. "Now that the thing hath come to light +nought matters. Had I come back earlier I had set you at liberty long +ago. As soon as I discovered how matters stood I took steps to gain your +freedom." + +"Then I may leave this place?" I cried. + +"Ay, be thankful that your father is not a fool. You can e'en return to +your old home to-morrow." + +"And know you aught of Mistress Constance Leslie?" I asked. + +"Ay, I do," he replied. + +"What? Tell me!" I cried. + +My father turned and looked around him before speaking, as though he +feared some one was listening. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +HOW I LEFT FLEET PRISON + + +"Tell me all you know concerning her," he said. I told him quickly, +feverishly, for I was eager to hear what he knew. I noticed, however, +that he paid but little heed to our meeting near Folkestone, nor to my +account of my journey to Bedford to set her at liberty. But when I +described our meeting with the king he was all attention. + +"The blackguard," he said presently, between his teeth. + +"Who?" I asked. + +"Charles Stuart," he said; "but pay no heed to me. After all, the king +is king." + +"But where is Constance now?" I asked. "I have been told that her +father was hanged at Tyburn. Where is she?" + +"What is she to you?" asked my father. + +"She is everything to me," I replied. + +"You fancy you are in love with her?" + +I did not reply, for my father spoke, I thought, scornfully. + +"I will admit that the maid is a brave maid. It is not often one hears +of such daring, such resolution," he said presently. + +"Ay," I replied, my heart all aglow. "She took her sister's guilt upon +her own shoulders. For months she defied all pursuers, and when at last +she stood before the king, she refused to do his bidding, refused to +betray her sister's hiding-place. But what happened to her afterwards? +Tell me, father, for pity's sake." + +"You do not know? You have heard of nought that took place after the +night when you behaved like a fool before the king, and were sent +hither?" + +"I have heard nothing." + +"It was the best joke I have heard of for years," laughed my father. +"Verily I believe it was that which made Charles hang old John Leslie. +He hath let more guilty men go free; besides, Sir John was a harmless +old fool, with nought against him save that he was over-religious." + +"But tell me, father; tell me," I pleaded. + +"Well," said my father, "no sooner did she leave his Majesty's presence +than it seems that she began to look around for a means of escape. It +seems also that during the time she appeared before the king, +half-a-dozen young gallants lost their hearts over her, and she being a +quick-Pwitted maid singled out the biggest fool of the whole batch. I +suppose that during her midnight audience with the king these young +fools waited around the corridors in the hope of having speech with her. +How she did it I don't know; but she managed to gain audience with the +young fool I have mentioned, and in five minutes he became wax in her +hands. She persuaded him to bring her the gay and full outfit of a young +Court gallant, and offered to run away with him." + +"And then?" I cried, for my father stopped in the middle of his recital +to laugh, as though he were telling a good joke. + +"Then the next night, while the king was at supper, she managed to +escape with this silly loon. It seems that they went away under the +trees, both of them dressed like gay cavaliers, until they came to a +spot where two horses where waiting for them. Then they both mounted, +the maid I am told having the firmer seat of the two, and galloped away +together. By this time night had come on, and then before this +addlepate, Charles Fitzroy by name, knew where he was, he found himself +alone. The girl had galloped away with his horse, and his fine attire, +leaving him to get out of his scrape as best he could." + +Again my father stopped to laugh. + +"But how do you know the truth of this?" I cried. + +"Oh, it was easy to know," replied my father. "Young Master Fitzroy rode +around through the night, calling vainly for his lady-love until +daylight, and presently happened upon another love-sick swain who had +also been away love-making. Master Fitzroy was so overcome with grief +that he actually told the other all that had happened." + +"But was he not punished by the king?" + +"As to that," replied my father, "he knew enough not to return to brave +the king's anger. He ran away to Holland, and the king having been much +beholden to Fitzroy's father hath not sent after him. Nevertheless, +Charles was very angry. He was much struck with the maid's beauty; +moreover, from what I can hear, his discomfiture hath been much laughed +at by the wits of the town. Oh, the maid was clever, there can be no +doubt of that, and verily she hath made me believe, almost in spite of +myself, in the virtue of women." + +"But you said you know where she is now," I said, for although my heart +rejoiced at what I had heard, I longed much to know how she fared after +these long weary months of my imprisonment. + +"Did I say that?" said my father. "Then I said too much; but methinks I +may be able to tell you that which may set you thinking." + +"What?" I cried feverishly. + +"As you know," went on my father, "the bishops and clergy of the +Episcopal Church have prevailed on the king to pass stringent laws +concerning these prating Puritans. In truth these men of God have so +hedged them around, that a Nonconformist is nearly as badly placed as +were Protestants during the reign of Mary. They are not allowed to +preach, or to pray, except according to the bishops' will. In fact they +are hardly able to live at all, for they be hunted like foxes and rats +from one place to another. It is true they ought to subscribe to the +Prayer-book, and take all the oaths which the king prescribes, but you +see they will not. Thus they are fined and imprisoned by the hundreds." + +"I have heard this," I cried; "but what hath it to do with the +whereabouts of Constance?" + +"I am coming to that," replied my father; "and the less you interrupt me +the sooner you will know all I have to tell. As a consequence of these +laws, there be hundreds of families without homes or friends, whom God +must indeed pity. They have no shelter but the hedgeside; no food but +what is free to the rabbits and the fowls of the air. Many of them were +parish ministers, and since the Act of Uniformity and the other Acts +their condition hath been piteous. Of course they be fools, for why +cannot they swallow their scruples and be done with it? But they will +not. The clergy refuse to be episcopally ordained, and they will +continue to preach, and hence the trouble. Well, it seems that a Master +Leslie, who was own cousin to Sir John, was one of these Presbyterian or +Independent ministers who refused to be ordained by a bishop, and thus +he was cast into the lanes, with a wife and six children. For a long +time I suppose he had no shelter but the hedges, for the farmers were +afraid even to give them a hiding place in their barns. At length, +however, a farmer was brave enough to give them shelter in an outhouse; +at any rate, he did not inform the vicar or the magistrates about them. +Some say he even brought them food, but concerning that I have no +certain knowledge. About a fortnight ago, however, the magistrates heard +of them, and sent the constables to take them, on what pretext I don't +know. It seems that just as the constables were entering the barn they +saw a woman come out, and one of them swears it was Mistress Constance +Leslie." + +"Where was this?" I cried. + +"At a parish about three miles from Bedford; I have forgotten the name." + +"And how long ago?" + +"I have just told you; it was about a fortnight ago." + +"And was the constable sure it was she?" + +"He can take his oath to it, he saith; he also rushed after her to take +her, but she escaped in the darkness. Some say she tripped the constable +up, and blew out the candle in his lantern. However, it may be all a +mistake, especially as since that time the whole district hath been +searched, and nought hath come of it. Especially hath search been made +at Goodlands, the place which belonged to Sir John Leslie, but not a +sight of her hath there been." + +"And what hath become of Goodlands?" I asked, with a fast beating heart. + +"Oh, it still appertaineth to the Leslies. It seems that the king is +still determined to capture the pretty Constance, and so he hath done +nought by Sir John's estates except to appropriate the rents. He +believes that sooner or later the daughters will claim their property, +and by this means he will be able to lay hands upon them. I am told that +at present one of Leslie's farmers lives in the house." + +I did not speak concerning this, nevertheless my heart beat high with +hope. I had heard Constance say that when she was once in her father's +house at Goodlands she had no fear of searchers. Was it not possible +that she had escaped thither, and was still in hiding? I knew that her +heart would go out in sympathy with the distressed clergyman who had +been driven from his parish, and his vicarage, and that she would seek +to bring him food and comfort. What more likely then than my father's +story was true. But as I have said I was silent, for I knew that he +would not be likely to think of her as I did. + +"That is all there is to tell," he said presently, and I saw that his +eyes rested searchingly on me, as though he would read the thoughts in +my mind. + +"What are you going to do?" he continued at length. + +"I am going to find her," I said. + +"And then?" + +"I do not know," I replied, for although I was sure I had seen the light +of love in her eyes that night when we stood in the presence of the +king, I was afraid she had forgotten all about me during the long weary +months I had been lying in prison. + +"But what would you?" he asked. + +"I would wed her," I replied. + +"What, wed the daughter of a regicide!" he cried. "Wed a woman with a +price set upon her head! Destroy all your chances in life, and that for +no benefit to you save to satisfy a mad fancy!" + +"What would you do if you were in my place, father?" I asked. "If +Constance were my mother and you were my age, what would you do?" + +For a moment my father's lips quivered, and then I knew that although he +had become more cynical than of old, his heart was still warm towards +the memory of my mother, and towards me his only son. + +"But can you do aught? I tell you it is only through the influence of +the king's brother that I have obtained your liberty. If his Majesty +discovers that you have in aught tried to help this woman he will have +no mercy. Doubtless he is easygoing as far as the State is concerned; +for that matter his best friends see that he is ruining the country over +which he pretends to reign. But he is bitter in his private hatreds. See +how he hath treated those who had aught to do with his father's death. +Not one shred of mercy hath he shewn. All are hanged, or imprisoned, +save those who have escaped across the seas. You, Roland, have thwarted +his will, and he believes that it is because this maid cares for you, +that she fled from Windsor that night. I tell you he will have no mercy, +and even although I have found the weak side of Duke James of York, I +could do nothing for you." + +"Still I must find her if I can." + +"But you can do no good. If she hath a hiding-place you will only +endanger her by trying to find her." + +"No; I will not endanger her," I cried. "Besides, I know not what she +may be suffering; I do not know what difficulty she hath in evading +those who would place her under the king's power." + +"You know her hiding-place?" said my father. + +"No, I do not know it," I replied; "I can only guess." + +"I tell you Goodlands is watched closely, and the whole countryside is +watched. If she is anywhere in the district then----," and my father +shrugged his shoulders, French fashion, as he ceased to speak. + +"Then she needs me all the more." + +"Oh, you fool, you fool!" said my father, and yet I thought his voice +was kind and caressing. + +"Look here," he went on presently. "I have influence with Duke James of +York, who I verily believe will soon be king. Charles will not live to +be an old man. He cannot. No man can live long who spends his days and +nights as he doth. And let me tell you this: Duke James doth not think +unkindly of you, if Charles doth. Even now I can put you into the way of +advancement, for Duke James hath much power. If you give up all thoughts +of this woman I can even yet promise you a career. The duke thought you +a dashing youth with a ready wit and a strong arm. But if you do what +is in your heart to do, I can see nothing for you but the prison or the +gallows." + +"Neither," I cried boldly, for what he had said had made me brave and +hopeful. + +"What then?" + +"I know not. But I will go and help the woman I love. If she will wed +me, no man in England will be so happy as I." + +"How will you live?" said my father with a sneer. + +"I will escape to New England, even as some of our forefathers did," I +cried. "Some of her forefathers are also there." + +"And if you did this what would you do?" + +"I am not a fool, even although you say I am," I cried. "I am young, and +at her side I shall be strong. Men no better than I have had a career in +other lands, and I will be in no whit behind them." + +My father smiled sadly. "Well, come with me to the old home, and then we +can think of these things together," he said presently. + +"If mother were where Constance is, what would you do?" I asked again. + +At this my father became silent for a time, then he burst out. + +"Have you any of these Puritan beliefs?" + +"Which would you rather I became?" I said. "A Puritan, or like unto the +swashbucklers which I am told throng the king's court?" + +"But hath this woman converted you?" + +"I do not know," I replied; "but I would be worthy of her. Whom would +you have me wed, father, a woman such as she is, or one of the women +whom Charles loves to have around him." + +"The women of Charles' Court!" he cried, and he seemed to be speaking to +himself rather than to me. "Great God! I have thought since I returned, +that there doth not remain a pure woman in London. The example of the +king hath corrupted the country. Morality is laughed at, while the +preachers wink at things which five years ago were regarded with holy +horror. And yet no man can find favour in these days unless he licks +Charles' boots and praises his way of living. I did not realize it +while I was in France, but since I have returned I have seen what I +thought might come. England is turned into a pigsty, and those who would +live for faith and purity are treated like vermin!" + +"Then what would you have me do father?" I asked. + +He was silent for a time, then he said quietly-- + +"You will be able to walk out of here to-morrow a free man. I have seen +to that. It is not far from here to the _Virgin Queen_, where our old +servant Caleb Bullen lives. Caleb will expect you, and you may find out +when you get there what I would have you do." + +He kissed me affectionately as he bade me good-bye; indeed, it seemed to +me as though he were taking a long farewell. But I knew not what was in +his mind, neither did I ask questions, for my father was never a man who +made known his secret thoughts with readiness. And yet the feeling which +had possessed me at first concerning him had passed away. He had grown +more and more like he was during my boyish days as our interview +proceeded. Nay, more; I thought he had sympathized with me as I spoke to +him, even although he was angry that I had not behaved with more worldly +wisdom. + +When I left the prison on the following morning I heard the +Nonconformists comforting each other by singing hymns, and by prayers, +so that while I could not understand many of their scruples my heart +went out to them in sympathy. I noticed, too, that my gaolers paid me +much respect as I left, and I judged that my father had somehow made +them think of me as different from those whom they usually guarded. + +As I walked up Ludgate Hill towards St. Paul's Cross no one paid heed to +me, and yet as I caught sight of myself in one of the windows as I +passed by, I scarce knew myself, for I had grown a beard several inches +long, while my face was as pale as the face of a dead man. + +When I entered the _Virgin Queen_ old Caleb Bullen started back like a +man frightened. + +"Great Lord! Is that you, Master Roland?" he cried. "If it had been +night I should e'en have taken you for a ghost." + +"If you will give me some breakfast, I will prove to you that I am no +ghost, Caleb," I replied. + +"Ay, but that hath been ready this last half-hour, Master Roland," he +replied. "Your father gave orders concerning it last night. In truth, so +particular was he about it, that I cut a new ham, the very best I have, +and six eggs have I had fried for you. But come this way, Master +Roland," and he led me into the room I had occupied long months before. + +"My father," I said, to Caleb, "is he here?" + +"Not one word will I speak about him till you have had something to +eat," said Caleb. "Faith, Master Roland, but it makes my flesh creep to +see you. No, no, I will speak no word, not one word until you have eaten +half a pound of ham. It was a good pig, Master Roland, twenty score +weight, and fed on good barley." + +In truth, although I was anxious to know what my father had said to him, +the smell of the ham was so appetising that I fell to eating without +further parley, while Caleb stood by watching me as though he was +deriving great comfort by doing so. + +"It does me good to see you, Master Roland," he said presently. "Why, +you are looking better already. Another rasher now, Master Roland, just +one more rasher." + +"Not another particle, Caleb," I said with a laugh, for a hearty meal +had made me feel like a new man. "Now tell me, is my father here?" + +"No, Master Roland." + +"Where is he? Do you know?" + +"No, I do not, but he left this for you," and he brought a bag and +placed it on the table before me. + +I heard the jingle of money, and on opening the bag I found a large +number of gold pieces. As I judged, there must have been a hundred +pounds. But it was not of this that I paid so much heed. Besides the +gold pieces I found a letter, and this was what my father had written: + +"God bless you, my son--my only son. I do not think you have +disappointed me much, though for a time I was sorely angered. After all, +a youth cannot help loving at some time, and if the woman he loves be +good and true, his love should not be laughed at. In my young days we +said that the more danger there was in the rescue, the more was the +rescue worthy of a brave man. I grieve much that we cannot spend some +days together in the old home, but that I must leave to you. Black Ben +is in the stable of the _Virgin Queen_. I knew you would like to have +him, so I obtained him, although with difficulty. In this bag are a +hundred pounds; you may need them. Rest a day and a night before you +begin to do what is in your heart. You will need all your strength. I +can do nought for you, but your mother would, I know, have you do what +is in your heart. So would I. If you succeed, and have need to come to +the old home, see that you take many precautions. But whatever may +happen, be sure that your father loves you." + +My eyes were full of tears when I finished reading this, and I knew then +that although he often spoke words which seemed hard and bitter, his +heart was full of love towards me. + +I rushed out to the stable, where Black Ben welcomed me with a whinney. +In truth, I thought he trembled with joy as he saw me. + +"I have more work for you, my beauty!" I said, whereupon he rubbed his +nose against my arm. + +"Great God, help me!" I prayed, as I thought of what lay before me; and +into my heart came a great resolution to do what was in my heart to do. +I longed much to start on my journey that day, but I was too weak. +Nevertheless, at an early hour next morning, I rode through Barnet on my +way to Bedford. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +WHAT HAPPENED ON THE BEDFORD ROAD + + +I could scarce believe after I passed through Barnet that it was indeed +I, Roland Rashcliffe, who bestrode Black Ben. All the long weary months +which had passed since last I had ridden along that road seemed like a +painful dream. Then the summer was in the full glory of its loveliness. +The trees were clothed in their green garments, flowers bloomed +everywhere, while the heavens resounded with the song of the birds. The +sky was, I remember, of perfect blue, while the lambs sported in the +fields as we rode along; and even although I was a prisoner, the woman I +loved was by my side, and we were excited at the thought that we were +journeying to the presence of the king. Besides, I was then strong and +vigorous; my nerves felt like steel, and my heart beat high with hope. +Now all was different. A year and nine months had passed away, and we +were in March. Not a sign of spring appeared, although I saw the farmers +sowing oats and barley. Showers of sleet and snow were swept across the +country by cold, biting east winds. The song of the birds was nowhere to +be heard. The cold hand of winter still gripped the earth, and the +cattle stood shivering by the hedge as if longing for the shelter of +their houses. + +Then, moreover, the country was rejoicing at the coming of the king. Men +were glad because they had escaped the strict morality of the Puritan +reign, and expressed the hope of happier times under an indulgent king. +But that, too, had changed. Those who had built their hopes for a +happier time under Charles had been disappointed, Cromwell had left the +country strong and great. Under Charles II it was becoming weak and +despised. Louis XIV of France regarded Charles as a kind of vassal, +while Holland looked upon us with contempt. Heavy taxes were levied to +pay for the king's extravagances, and even his best friends looked upon +him as a weak, pleasure-loving, sensual man. He longed to be regarded as +an absolute monarch, yet would he not take the trouble to rule the +nation righteously. Men saw everywhere that the resources of the land +were being drained for no good purpose. + +The glad, happy times for which people had hoped, had degenerated into +wild, lawless orgies. Virtue among women was not believed in; in men the +idea of it was scorned. The Church had become the tool of those in +authority, and was made to condone the most frightful abuses. Those who +longed for a pure morality and the advancement of true religion, were +sneered at as Puritans, and were denied preferment. Nonconformists were +persecuted everywhere. Every prison in the country was full of them, and +the only charge brought against them was that they sought to pray and +preach in another fashion than that ordained by law. The expressed +determination of the Episcopal clergy was to stamp out dissent by the +iron heel of force. Dissenters were hunted from place to place and +persecuted on every hand, and those who in any way sympathized with them +were boycotted and persecuted. + +All this made my work the harder, for I reflected that Constance was a +Nonconformist, and her father had been hanged as a regicide. Moreover, I +had no plan of action. I determined to find Constance's hiding-place, +and yet I must do so without giving any one else a clue to where she +was. Even when I had found her, I knew not how I could help her. My body +had been enfeebled by long months of imprisonment, and although at +starting out I was buoyed up by the hope of seeing Constance again, I +quickly realized that I could not reach Bedford that day, as I had +hoped. + +Still, I was neither dismayed nor cast down. I knew my strength would +soon come back to me, for every breath I drew was the breath of liberty +and hope. I bestrode Black Ben, surely the best horse ever a man rode. +At my side hung a good blade, my pistols were ready to hand, and I +possessed enough money for my needs. I had also obtained new clothes +according to the fashion of the times. I again presented a brave +appearance. + +I was told that footpads beset the road to the north, but no man +molested me. + +Towards evening on the second day of my journey I drew near to Bedford, +when I set myself to thinking seriously what I should do. I knew that in +less than an hour I should see the river coil its way through the town, +seeing I was but five miles away. I could not ride fast, for my day's +journey had wearied me, and so allowed Black Ben to amble along at will. +I was just entering a lonely part of the road, when I saw a man of +venerable appearance standing in the road. + +He held up his hand at my approach, at the which I stopped. + +"You have not seen a woman leading two little children, have you?" he +said. + +I shook my head. + +"Have you seen a little girl about ten, accompanied by a boy of twelve?" +he asked. + +"No," I replied. + +He sighed deeply, whereupon I asked him if he were in trouble. + +"Ay, I am in deep trouble," he said, "for I fear evil hath happened to +my wife and dear ones. When we parted this morning, I said I would try +and get work among the farmers, so as to earn enough to buy them bread, +while they said they would make known our condition to some friends who +are still faithful. We also arranged to meet here at five o'clock. Is it +not about that time, young master?" + +"It is past that hour," I replied. + +"Then I fear evil hath happened to them," he said, and I saw the tears +well up into his eyes. + +"But surely this is strange," I said; "you do not look like a man who +should be seeking work of the farmers. You look rather to be a man of +learning and of quality." + +"I am an unworthy preacher of the Word; but I have been driven from my +vicarage, and now nought but starvation stares me in the face." + +"What parish were you in?" I asked. + +"I was the incumbent of St. Martin's," he replied. "I would not conform, +so I was e'en driven out." + +"Why would you not conform?" I asked. + +"E'en because I felt it would be a sin so to do. I had received my +ordination from God, and I could not profess to belief in the +Prayer-book, which was full of Popish errors. But God's will be done. I +was of the Presbyterian persuasion, and I fear that, like the +Episcopalians, I desired uniformity. But that is all over now. I see +that the Independents and the Quakers are men of God even as we are, and +our persecutions have linked us together." + +"And what hath become of you since you were driven from your parish?" + +"Ah, God knows! We have lived how we could, and it hath been terribly +hard. Sometimes for days together we have scarcely had food. Our clothes +are worn out too, and sometimes we have been terribly cold. Thank God, +the winter cannot last much longer now! Even now I do not think it is +quite as cold as it was a week ago;" but the man shivered as he spoke. + +"But have you no property at all?" I asked. + +"I have but ten pounds a year, and my wife hath nothing at all. All our +little savings were soon eaten up, for the children are hearty, thank +God! Directly after Bartholomew's Day we were cast forth from our +dwelling, and since then we have had nought but trouble. I have no +friends but those in my own parish, and Master Gilloch, the new vicar, +and Master Graystone, the magistrate, have done their utmost to make it +impossible for us to get help. Moreover, times are bad, and those who +would help us cannot. I thought while I was in prison that I suffered +enough, but I think it hath been worse since I came out." + +"Have you been in prison?" I asked. + +"Ay," he replied, "in truth I have. For what could I do? Could I be +silent when God had commanded me to preach? 'Woe is me if I preach not +the Gospel.' I know now what our brother John Bunyan felt, although a +year ago I did but little sympathize with him. The Word of God was like +fire in his bones, and he could not help declaring it, so he was cast +into prison. After I was ejected from my parish I still preached, and I +was cast into prison, and kept there for three months; but I still +preach, and, thank God! I still comfort those who are distressed. But +for the Word of Life I could not bear my troubles, and who am I that I +should keep it from others?" + +"But what was the occasion of your being imprisoned?" I asked. + +"Oh, we had met, a few of us, in a barn, some half a mile from the +king's highway. We met to read God's word and for prayer. As we read I +was mightily moved upon to expound the meaning of God's word, and while +I was in the act of expounding and exhorting, the constables came, and +dragged three of us to gaol. One of the magistrates who judged me was +Master Gilloch, who is now the minister in my old parish, and, as I say, +I was kept three months in the company of the worst men and women I ever +met. But God had use for me, for while there I was the means of leading +more than one to accept the Gospel." + +"And what did your wife and children do while you were in prison?" I +asked. + +"Oh, a godly farmer gave them a home, until the squire, Master +Graystone, a man who had often eaten bread at my table, came and told +the farmer that if he did not drive them from his house he should e'en +take his farm from him. Nevertheless, the Lord mercifully provided for +them. Since I came out of prison I have been able to provide bread for +them by selling my books, and by writing a few letters for those who +knew not the craft of writing." + +"And have you no special friend now?" I asked, for, as may be imagined, +Constance was in my mind all the time. + +"Ay, but that friend hath to help in secret," he cried. + +I wanted to ask more concerning this, but I saw he turned away his head +as he spoke, and seemed desirous of being silent. + +"Perchance the hearts of the squire and the vicar may grow softer," I +said. + +"Ay, young master, there seems but little chance of that. Why, only last +night a few pious souls were met together for prayer, and as they prayed +the constable entered, and they were dragged away to gaol. The trial is +to be held to-morrow, but they will get no mercy." + +"To-morrow?" I said. "At what time?" + +"At such time as it may suit the magistrates, but it is given out for +ten o'clock." + +"And what will you do to-night?" + +"I know not what to do--ah! praise God, here are my wife and children +coming!" + +I turned and saw a woman, accompanied by four children, coming towards +us, and as they saw us they seemed to quicken their footsteps as if for +gladness. The man with whom I had been speaking, kissed them all +affectionately, and then each looked to the other as if for news. + +"I have obtained enough for food to-night," said the man. "We can e'en +call at Elizabeth Jory's and get bread, and we can all sleep in the +cottage in the wood." + +"I am very cold," whimpered one of the children. + +"But I can soon light a fire. Do not be afraid, my dear ones. The Lord +will provide. But how have you fared, good wife?" + +The woman shook her head. "She dares not come till to-morrow night," she +said. + +"The Lord will provide till then," said the man; but his voice was +piteous, and I saw the tears well up in her eyes. + +"You have a friend who will help you to-morrow night?" I said eagerly; +but to this the woman made no reply, rather she turned away her head +like one afraid. + +"You said the Lord would provide," I said, as I took some coins from my +pouch. "Perchance He hath sent me to help you. Here is something that +will meet your needs till your friend cometh." + +"Are you one of the Lord's children?" asked the man, as he looked at my +somewhat gay attire. + +"I trust so," I said, for in truth I knew not what better to say. + +"But are you one who hath also suffered for God's work? Forgive my +asking, for while your attire is that of a Court gallant, your face is +as if set towards the city of God." + +"I have suffered imprisonment for not obeying the king," I made answer. + +He looked at me steadily. "Surely I have seen you before," he said, "and +yet your face is strange to me. Have you by chance ever visited this +neighbourhood before?" + +"Yes," I replied. + +"Long ago, young master? Oh, you need not fear to tell me. If you have +suffered because of your disobedience to the king, you should be one of +God's children." + +"I was in the Chapel of Herne twelve months ago last June," I replied. + +"Surely, surely you cannot be he who helped our friend out of----" He +stopped and gazed eagerly at me as if afraid to say more. + +"My name is Roland Rashcliffe," I said, whereupon he grasped my hand in +joy. + +"This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes," he said. + +"Know you aught of her?" I said, wellnigh overcome with the hope that +was in my heart. + +"Know aught of her!" he cried. "Why----" + +"Husband, husband!" interrupted the woman. + +The man ceased speaking for a moment. "Thank you, wife," he said, after +a pause; "the road is full of pitfalls, and a promise should be +faithfully kept." + +"But I desire to be your friend," I cried eagerly. "Here, take this +money, and if further help fails you, will you let me know, and I will +give you more." + +"Young master, I believe the Lord hath touched your heart," he cried, +"and surely He hath brought you to us. May God bless you, and make you a +blessing! But I am not a beggar, neither have I asked you for aught." + +"But be pleased to take this," I cried. "You will give me joy by taking +it. I have plenty, and I desire to help you." + +I saw that pride and desire struggled in the man's heart, and I verily +believe the former would have conquered had not one of the children +cried bitterly: + +"Father, I am so cold, and so hungry," she said; "let us go to the +cottage, and light the fire." + +"Thank you, young master," he said as he took the money; "perchance I +shall be able to repay you some day." + +"You have repaid me already," I replied. "You have made me happy by +enabling me to give your children food and fire to-night. Will you tell +me where your cottage is, and then, perchance, I can come and see you +again." + +Again he looked steadily at me, and it was some time before he spoke. +"You see that stile there?" he said. "If you follow the footpath into +the wood for half a mile you will see my cottage." + +"See that the children have good food and a fire to-night," I said with +a laugh, for my heart had grown light and joyful with hope. + +"Thanks to you, they shall," he cried; and I saw the tears trickling +down his wan cheek. "Oh, may the Lord forgive me for ever doubting His +word! Did not David say, 'I have been young, and now am old, yet have I +never seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread.' No, I +shall not be forsaken, and the Lord will provide. Ay, and the word of +the Lord shall triumph too. The eyes of the wicked may stand out with +fatness, yet will I not fret myself because of evildoers. I will trust +in the Lord, and do good, and I will dwell in the land and follow after +faithfulness. I will delight myself in the Lord, and He will give me the +desires of my heart." + +"And what may your name be?" I asked. + +"Forgive me if I have seemed afraid to trust you," he said, "but it +behoveth those who are surrounded by enemies to behave with caution. But +I believe that the Lord hath sent you to me. My name, young master, is +John Day, who for ten years ministered to his flock in the parish church +at St. Martin's." + +All my weariness and fatigue had gone as I rode into Bedford. I was +afraid of nothing, for I believed that God had led me hither. Again and +again I went over in my mind the conversation between Master John Day +and myself, and the more I thought of it, the more I was convinced that +the friend who had helped them was the woman I loved. It accorded with +what my father had told me concerning her, and although Master Day had +been afraid to tell me aught, he had said enough to confirm my hopes. + +I did not think it best to go to _The Bull_ at Bedford, but seeing an +inn called _General Fairfax_, I made my way thither. If an innkeeper was +bold enough to keep an inn bearing such a name, I reflected, it might be +that I should be safer there than elsewhere. Not that I feared +recognition. As Caleb Bullen had said, my appearance had been so changed +during my prison life that scarce any one would know me. When I was in +Bedford last, I was brown and strong; now I was pale, and looked weak +and ill. Moreover, my clothes were so different from what I wore then +that they altered my appearance much. Besides, I had but little to fear. +No warrant was out against me, neither had I done anything to cause +those in authority to take note of me. + +The inn, moreover, was of a quieter order than the others, neither were +any troublesome questions asked of me. + +After supper I found my way into the room where several men sat with +their mugs of ale before them, and I found that they were talking about +the trial which was to take place on the following morning. + +"How many are to be tried?" asked one. "Know you, James Bilsom?" + +"Ay, I think there be a score or more." + +"They will be all sent to prison, I'll wage." + +"There can be no doubt about that. Parson Gilloch is most terrible and +bitter against these Dissenters; as for Squire Graystone, he fair hates +them. Not that I can see they have done aught wrong. They do but pray +and preach as they did before the coming of the king. As for their +piety--well, if I lay a-dying I'd rather have one of them to pray with +me than I'd have the parson, for all his long white gown." + +"But still, the king is king, and law is law." + +"Ay, I suppose so. Still, although I was no lover of Old Nol, we were +better off in his days. There was less thieving, less drinking, less +loose living, and more piety. Of that I am free to confess." + +"Say not so too loud, for if Parson Gilloch hears of it he will e'en +make you smart. Why, think of what hath befallen the Dissenters." + +"Ay, a man can hardly call his soul his own, that he cannot. Are you +going to the trial to-morrow?" + +"Nay, I cannot sleep after I have been to these trials. I cannot help +thinking of the women and children. It is terrible hard for them." + +"Ay, it is; how they manage to live I know not." + +"Think you there is any truth in the stories about Sir John Leslie's +daughter?" + +"Nay, I think not. If there were she'd have been found before this." + +"I don't know. She's a clever maid. Why, think how she guarded her +sister, and got her out of the country. I do hear she's joined Sir +Charles in Holland." + +"Ay, but she can't be in these parts now. How can she be? Every house is +watched; besides, how can she get meat to eat?" + +"I don't know; but I tell you, she hath all her wits, and she's more +than a match for Parson Gilloch. Peter Blewitt swears it was she that he +saw before she tripped him up and blew out his candle." + +After this they talked much in this fashion, but they said nought that +gave me any clue to the secret of her hiding place, although they gave +me much food for reflection. + +The next morning I made my way to the Chapel of Herne, in the hopes that +I might hear something which might help me in the work I had set myself +to do. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE PURITAN'S COTTAGE + + +"The court house is not so full to-day." + +"Nay. Do you mind when John Bunyan was tried? Ay, but he answered the +justices boldly, and so cleverly that they could not gainsay him." + +"True, but they clapped him into gaol for all that." + +"Ay, they did; but that did not depend upon the trial. They had made up +their minds to do that before he was brought hither. John was among the +first, and people thought much of the trials then. We have had so many +since that we be getting used to them." + +"Well, it makes it pay to be religious." + +"Nay, say rather it makes it a paying business to go to church. There's +nought of religion in sending godly people to prison for praying in +their own way." + +"Hush, man! Men be spying around everywhere, and it takes but little to +get fined. I hear there is a lot of paid spies, whose business it is to +go around to hear folks talk and to give information to the justices." + +"Ay, I suppose so. And yet these Dissenters pray and preach more than +ever. I am told that they be increasing in number every week." + +"And yet I hear that the king and the clergy say they'll never stop +until there's not a Dissenter left in the land." + +"Ay, I suppose so." + +All this and much more I heard as I stood in the Chapel of Herne that +March morning, for although it was wellnigh ten o'clock as I entered the +building, the justices did not come until late. The reason for this was, +that although only the petty sessions were to be held that day, so great +was the interest taken in the Nonconformists that both Sir Henry +Chester, of Tilsworth, and Sir George Blundell, of Cardington Manor, had +declared their intention of being present, I heard, moreover, that both +these worshipful gentlemen were very bitter against the Dissenters, and +that Sir George Blundell had said that he would "sell a cow for a +shilling" rather than the work against them should not go forward. It +was also said that when Sir Matthew Hale visited Bedford, he would have +set John Bunyan at liberty but for Sir Henry Chester, who declared that +Bunyan was a good-for-nothing fellow, who preferred going around +stirring up dissension to working at his proper trade, which was that of +a travelling tinker. + +It was because they were late that proceedings did not begin at the +proper hour that morning. When they arrived near noon-day, however, +their entrance made a great stir, and they took their seats on the bench +with a great show of importance. + +I stayed only during the trial of one who was brought thither that +morning, but I was told that the other cases were dismissed with great +speed, as the justices had some appointment elsewhere which they wished +to keep. The man who was tried while I was there was called James +Ireton, whose name, I was told, went much against him, seeing that +Colonel Ireton had been hanged by the king only a little time before. + +He was only a young man, it may be of twenty-five years of age, and +looked a harmless sort of fellow, although I saw by the look of quiet +determination in his eyes that he was not one who would be easily turned +aside from his purposes. He was a blacksmith by trade, and one, I +judged, of tremendous strength of arm and body. The indictment brought +against him was in these words: + +"James Ireton, you are accused of devilishly and perniciously abstaining +from coming to church to hear divine service, and for being a common +upholder of several unlawful meetings and conventicles, to the great +disturbance and distraction of the good subjects of this kingdom, and +contrary to the laws of our sovereign lord the king." + +The man replied that he did indeed attend a meeting of godly people for +praise and prayer, but that it was held in an outhouse nearly half a +mile from the king's highway, and that there was not a dwelling-house +near it. + +"But do you know that such a meeting is unlawful?" cried the magistrate. + +"I find nothing in the Word of God against it," replied the man. + +"I do not mean the Word of God, of which you are ignorant," replied the +magistrate, "but the laws of this country." + +"I always put the laws of God above every law," replied the blacksmith, +"and there I do find I am commanded to continue in prayer." + +"Ay, and the law hath provided the church for you to pray. Do you go to +church?" + +"Ay, I do go to the Church of God," replied the man. + +"What church?" + +"A church composed of those who meet together in Christ's name," replied +he. + +"Ah, some conventicle! That is no church. How can you call that a +church?" + +"I have Christ's own words," replied the man. "He said, 'Wheresoever two +or three are gathered together in My name, there am I in the midst of +them,' and it is Christ that makes the church." + +"I cannot allow this blasphemy," said the justice. "The question is, do +you go to the parish church?" + +"No," replied Ireton, "I do not." + +"And why?" + +"Because I do not find the Scriptures faithfully proclaimed, because +many Romish practices are performed, and because I get no good to my +soul." + +"Thou art a naughty, law-breaking varlet!" said the justice. + +"Nay, that is not so. In truth there was a time when this was true of +me; for I was a drunkard, and I treated my wife with great cruelty. For +this I was not punished; but now that I am trying to obey God's word, +and to lead others to holy life, I am e'en haled before you." + +"But didst thou go to church when thou wert what thou sayst?" + +"Ay, that I did. I was one of the bell-ringers at the parish church." + +"Well now, wilt thou not promise to be a decent fellow again? A man who +can ring one of a peal of bells is a useful man, and no man can say to +the contrary. Now, why not be as you were before? I don't mean as to the +wife-beating, that is, of course, wrong. But can't you be religious in +the right way, go to church regularly, and drink your ale in +moderation?" + +"Why," said the man, "I knew nought about religion till I heard John +Bunyan preach; then I realized that I had been a sinner, and that I must +repent of my sins, and accept Christ as my Saviour. On doing this such a +joy and peace came into my heart, that I longed to tell others of the +good news which had come to me." + +"Ay, but how can an ignorant man like thee be fit to preach?" + +"I have often thought of that myself, and truly I have tried not to. But +I have felt what I think the Apostle must have felt when he said, 'Woe +is me if I preach not the Gospel.' Besides, God hath blessed me +wonderfully, and hath used me in leading many to conversion." + +After this many other questions were asked, which the man answered in a +like fashion. + +"Now," said Sir Henry Chester presently, "it hath been proved that thou +hast been a naughty, law-breaking varlet. Thou hast devilishly and +perniciously abstained from coming to church, and thou hast been guilty +of the sin of preaching. For either of these things thou dost deserve to +be punished with great severity. But we are inclined to be merciful. If +thou wilt promise to go to church as the law dictates, and never to +preach again, thou shalt be forgiven. Come now, that is a great mercy." + +"Nay," said the man, "I cannot promise, for I must e'en obey God rather +than man." + +After this he was threatened with many cruel threats, but being +obstinate he was committed to gaol as though he were an ordinary felon. +No sooner was the man dragged away by the constables than I left the +court house, partly because I did not see how I could make any +discoveries as to the whereabouts of Constance while there, and +secondly, because I thought I saw some of the magistrates casting +suspicious eyes upon me. + +During the rest of the day I cast my mind about as to what I should do. +I discovered that the constables were on the look-out for Constance, and +that the whole countryside was being watched, so that if she in any way +shewed herself, she should be arrested and thrown into prison. But in +this matter many opinions were afloat. Some had it that she had never +returned to Bedford at all, but had escaped to Holland directly after +her father's death, whither her sister Dorcas had gone. Others, again, +held with Peter Blewitt the constable, that it was she who helped many +of the Dissenters in their trouble, and, indeed, kept them from +starving. This, however, seemed impossible, for how could she, who must +keep in constant hiding, be able to help others? + +As far as I could judge, no man seemed to recognize me. My long +imprisonment had much changed my appearance, while my beard acted almost +like a mask. In order to test this, I even went so far as to have a chat +with the landlord of _The Bull_, and so little was he aware as to who I +was that I laughed at the fears I had about the magistrates eyeing me +with suspicion. + +I dared not go to Goodlands, however. I knew that the place was being +watched, and thus, if Constance were there--as, remembering what she had +told me long months before, I believed she was--I should only increase +her danger. And yet I longed to see her more than words could say, for +my long imprisonment had not lessened my love. It had increased it. So +that the thought that she was only a few miles from me tempted me to +discard all prudence, and boldly seek her out. But this I did not do, +for true love doth not seek its own pleasure, but the welfare of the one +who is beloved. I therefore possessed my soul in patience until night, +when I made my way to the cottage where the expelled minister told me he +had taken up his abode. I remembered the words that had passed between +the husband and the wife when I had seen them on the highway near +Bedford, and I believed that it was Constance whom the woman had said +had promised to come to them that night. + +It must have been nine by the clock as I reached the stile which the man +had pointed out to me, but although it was dark, I had but little +difficulty in following the path. In truth it seemed like a much trodden +road, and one on which many people had lately passed. I had not gone far +before I saw a tiny twinkling light, after which I heard the sound of +voices singing. + +A few minutes later I was so close that I could hear what they were +singing. I did not think that the voices were very musical; +nevertheless, there was a plaintiveness of tone mingled with triumph +that I could not help being moved. + +"_The Lord is my light and my salvation: whom shall I fear?_ + +"_The Lord is the strength of my life: of whom shall I be afraid?_ + +"_When evildoers come upon me to eat up my flesh, even mine adversaries +and my foes, they stumbled and fell._ + +"_Though an host should encamp against me, my heart shall not fear._ + +"_One thing have I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after._ + +"_That I may dwell in the House of the Lord all the days of my life._" + +After this I heard the voice of John Day, the man who had been the +minister of the parish church of St. Martin's. + +"My friends," he said, "I feel constrained to speak a few words of +comfort and hope to you, for truly the Lord hath done great things for +us, whereof we are glad; but before I try to expound God's holy word, +let us ask Him for wisdom and light, so that I may speak his words with +wisdom, rightly dividing the word of truth." + +"It will be well that one of us do go out and watch," said a voice, "for +the magistrates be very bitter against us. John Ireton and many others +have been sent to gaol to-day, and I do hear that orders have been given +to watch some of us, and especial mention hath been made of you, Master +Day." + +"I do not fear," said the old clergyman; "the Lord hath called me to +preach the Gospel, and I may not hold my peace. Still, seeing we live in +evil times, it may be as you say, therefore do one of you watch while we +seek to eat of the Bread of Life." + +I had come up to the cottage unheeded by the worshippers. As far as I +could gather there were not a dozen in all, who were evidently labouring +men and their wives. Standing where I was, however, I could see the +cottage plainly, and I noticed that one of their number went out, and +stood at a place where he could take note of any that might come. + +After Master John Day had prayed, he began to speak to the people. First +of all he expounded the Scriptures to them, and then he sought to +enforce his teaching concerning God's providence by example. "You know, +my friends," he said, "how I have been put to great straits for bread. +You have helped me all you could; but you have had barely enough for +your own necessities. I have tried to obtain service at the hands of +those who employ labour, but few would hire me. In truth, I should have +starved, but for one dear friend who shall be nameless. Then the time +came when even she was powerless, and yesterday I and my little ones +would have starved had not the Lord sent a stranger along the road, who +hath given us enough for our necessities for several days. Shall we +doubt the Lord, dear friends? It is true we have been driven from our +home, and we have even been forbidden to take religious exercises +together, yet hath the Lord watched over us, ay, and He will watch over +us, even to the last." + +He had scarcely said these words than the man who had been appointed as +a watcher rushed in. + +"The constables!" he cried; "they will be here in a minute more." + +"Shall we stay and meet them boldly?" said Master John Day. + +"What good will it do?" one cried. "I know that the Quakers take no note +of them, but we be wiser than they. We must e'en disband." + +"Nay, but I will gladly suffer for Christ's sake," said John Day. +"Still, I must remember my wife, and my dear little ones." + +Upon this the light was extinguished, and a few seconds later I heard +hurrying footsteps. + +I waited hidden behind a thick bush, and presently I heard stealthy +footsteps approaching. + +"All is dark," said a voice. + +"Ay, but they have been here." + +"Yes, but they are gone. Let us go in and see if Master Day is there." + +"That will be no use. If we go in it will make them more watchful +against another time." + +"Perhaps that is so. We have missed them this time, but we will pounce +upon them unawares another time. You know that Parson Gilloch told us we +should have a crown apiece and a gallon of strong ale if we caught +Master Day in the act of preaching." + +"Ay, that is so. Well, we had better go for the night." + +I heard them creep away as silently as they had come, and in a few more +minutes all was still. The worshippers had evidently gone to their +homes, and not a sound could I hear disturbing the stillness of the +night. + +Still I waited. I felt that here was my opportunity of finding out the +truth concerning the whereabouts of Constance, and I determined to +remain where I was until the minister's fears were stilled, after which +I would try and have speech with him. + +After a time a light twinkled in the cottage again, and I heard the low +murmur of voices. The night had become perfectly still, and not a breath +of wind moved the bare tree branches. I thought I smelt the breath of +spring in the air, the thought of which gave me joy, I knew not why. + +"She cannot be coming here to-night," I thought. "It is now wellnigh +midnight, and this place must be at least three miles from Goodlands, +even although there be a short cut across the fields." This thought made +my heart cold, and yet I stayed there in hope, my eyes hungering for a +sight of her face. How long I stayed I know not, but presently I thought +the voices grew louder, whereupon I crept silently forward, until I +could hear more plainly. + +"It is because of the goodness of God that you have come to me, my +child," the old clergyman said, "and we thank you beyond all telling. +Yet do I wish you had not come. The way is long to your hiding place, +and the night is dark. Besides, God hath ministered to our necessities. +He hath sent a friend to help us." + +"Who hath he sent?" + +My heart almost stood still! It was the voice of Constance which I +heard, and in an instant it seemed to me as though my full strength had +come back again. My weakness I felt not, and my weariness had passed +away, even as snow ceases to be when the hot sun shines. + +"It was yester eve," said the old clergyman. "I was in despair because I +had no food for my wife and children, and because I was afraid harm had +happened to them. While I was waiting for them, a youth came along +riding a raven black horse. We fell to speaking together, and the Lord +touched his heart." + +"Did he tell you his name?" + +"Ay, my child, and although you have told me nought, I cannot help +believing that his coming will be good news to you. His name is Roland +Rashcliffe." + +"Tell me more! Tell me more!" + +After that I could not stay outside a moment longer, for she spoke with +eagerness and joy. I called to mind the look she had given me when we +stood together in the presence of the king, and I felt that she had not +forgotten me. + +Without ado I opened the door, and stood before them. At first I thought +she looked afraid, and this made me say what I should not have dared to +say otherwise. + +"Constance," I said, "I could not come before, but I have loved you all +the time, even as I told you I should." + +Her eyes were lifted to mine as if in great wonder, then I saw the tears +well up in them; but they were not tears of sorrow. + +"You are not angry with me, are you?" I said. + +And then she burst out sobbing upon my shoulder, while I, unheeding +Master Day and his wife, strained her to my heart. + +We did not stay long at the cottage. I gave Master Day enough money to +meet his needs for some time to come, and then Constance and I walked to +Goodlands together along the silent, lonely road whither she had come. + +I will not write of all the things we spoke about during that long +journey. Enough to say that she had escaped from the king's palace as my +father had told me, and had made her way to Goodlands, which she entered +by a secret known only to herself, and to the faithful farmer who +occupied the kitchen part of the house and looked after the Goodlands +estate. Here she was able to remain unmolested. The entrance to the +house, she told me, was by a secret underground passage, the opening of +which could only be discovered with great difficulty. Here, moreover, +were rooms in which her forefathers had been hidden in the days of Queen +Mary, the secret of which had defied all searchers. It was here she had +hidden Father Solomon, whose real name was John Walters, and her sister +Dorcas, and it was from here she had sent her sister to Holland to meet +her husband. + +She told me, moreover, that this old man, who claimed to be the father +of Lucy Walters, had been driven wellnigh mad because of his daughter's +shame, and that he had left his wife because she encouraged her child in +her evil ways. He had, moreover, become friendly with Sir Charles +Denman, who had given him the right to live in the lonely house. For +years he had been a student of the occult sciences, in order, he said, +to find out the hiding place of the marriage contract between his +daughter and the king, and it was here that her sister came, after she, +in a fit of religious frenzy, had sought to take the life of General +Monk. + +Constance told me, moreover, that she had been taught to fear this old +man; yet did she visit him for her sister's sake, on the night when we +first met. Whether the marriage contract was genuine, or whether it had +been forged by the old man or no, she could not tell, neither did she +know where he was now. Directly after her sister had escaped to Holland, +he also had disappeared; but before he went he declared that he would +yet see his daughter owned as the king's wife, while her son should be +king of England. + +But it was not these things which troubled me as I walked by Constance's +side that dark night in March. I was thinking rather of my great love +for her, and how I could take her from the hands of her enemies. For she +was now all alone in the world. Her father was dead, hanged by the king, +while her sister had rejoined her husband, a man whom Constance regarded +with fear and anger. + +Although she had stayed long at Goodlands, she felt that her stay there +must soon come to an end. She could not live much longer under such +circumstances, especially as she felt sure that she was suspected of +being hidden in the house. + +Of the love we confessed one to another I will not write, for that is +not the affair of those who may read this; but that she did love me I +did not doubt. How could I doubt it when for me she had defied the king? +How could I doubt after the way she had sobbed out her love for me in +Master John Day's cottage? + +Thus it was that the long walk was to me a joy beyond words. At last my +love was by my side, and so I did not dread the dark clouds that hung in +our sky, I did not fear the enemies which beset her on every hand. + +"There is nought for us to fear," I said to her, for at that moment +everything seemed possible to me. + +"Oh, I have prayed for this so long, so earnestly," she said. "That +night when we stood before the king, I wanted to tell you what was in my +heart, but--but--" and then she told me again what my heart was +hungering to hear. + +"We cannot stay in England," I said, "but we can go across the seas, and +make a home in New England, even as your Puritan forefathers did. Will +you, Constance?" + +"Whither thou goest, I will go," she said; "where thou lodgest, I will +lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God." + +Then I thanked God with a full heart for all His great goodness to me, +and there and then we arranged that I should come for her the following +night, and that we should ride together to my father's house before +setting out to find a new home. + +"Good-night, my beloved," I said as we parted; "we will trust, and not +be afraid." + +"Come as early as you dare," she said shyly, "for in truth I feel I can +no longer live without you." + +And this I promised with a right good will and with a light heart, for I +did not then know what would soon be revealed to me. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +HOW I LEFT MY OLD HOME. + + +Excited as I was, I found my way back to the inn and slept like a child. +No ill dreams disturbed my rest, nor did a shadow of fear enter my +heart. When I awoke next day the clouds had rolled away, the sun shone +in a clear sky, and there was indeed a smell of spring in the air. I +would have given much to have paid a visit to the gaol to see John +Bunyan, but this I dared not do, for I knew that suspicion would fasten +upon me if I made the attempt. So, although I remembered his former +speech with much kindness, my love's safety forbade my going to him, and +hear him tell me the wondrous story of how he had, as he said, "found +the King in His beauty." In truth, throughout the whole day I kept +indoors, not shewing myself to any man, and simply telling mine host +that I must leave him that night at eight o'clock, in order to do +business elsewhere. I had no need to seek a steed for Constance, for the +old farmer who lived at Goodlands was able to obtain one, so I e'en sat +in the inn dreaming of the glad time to come when my Jove and I would +ride side by side towards my father's house. + +When night came on, however, that happened which caused me to go into +the town, and it was well I did so, else had all things happened +different to me. Not that I meant to leave the place until I mounted +Black Ben to ride to Goodlands, but as I looked out of the window, I saw +Peter Blewitt hurrying by with an eager look in his eyes as though he +were bent on a matter of importance. + +"Ah, whither go you, Peter?" I heard mine host say. + +"That is my business, Jonathan Coad," was the reply. + +"Thy business," laughed the other. + +"Ay, mine, and such as I will not tell the landlord of the _General +Fairfax_." + +"Ah, ah!" laughed the landlord, "as though thou ever had business in thy +life. Thou could'st never catch a thief even if he took thine own +horse." + +"Ah, could I not?" said Peter. + +"Why, no," said the landlord. "If thou could'st have caught aught, thou +wouldst have caught Mistress Constance Leslie. That would have meant a +hundred pounds, and yet thou did'st e'en let her slip through thy +fingers." + +"Wait a bit!" said Peter. + +"Ay, wait till doomsday, and thou will never catch her." + +"Wait till to-morrow noon," said Peter, and he hurried away. + +Now it was this which caused me to go out into the town, and to follow +Peter as closely as I could without him seeing me. + +The night had now come on, perchance it was turned six o'clock, but it +was not so dark but I saw Master Sturgeon coming towards the constable. + +"Ah, Peter, whither goest thou?" + +"To the chief constable, Master Sturgeon." + +"Ah, why?" + +I did not catch his answer to this; nevertheless, I knew it to be of +import by the look on the gaoler's face. + +"Good, Peter," I heard him say presently, "then I shall have her under +lock and key again this very night, and I'll warrant young Master +Rashcliffe shall not get her out a second time." + +"Ay, we know where she is hidden, and we must go to her without a +minute's delay. I must make haste, for if news were to reach her at +Goodlands, then should I lose my hundred pounds." + +With this Peter hurried on, while I fled back to the inn with the speed +of the wind. In less time than it takes me to tell, I had paid my count, +and had saddled Black Ben, and without saying a word to mine host, I +rode to Goodlands as fast as my horse could carry me. + +When I reached there all was dark. Not one sound could I hear, no one +could I see. I hammered again and again at the door, but no man +answered, until, as I remembered how rapidly the time was flying, I was +wellnigh in a frenzy. + +"Come, farmer, come!" I cried; "it's a matter of life and death!" But +still I got no answer, save that I thought I heard a low, mocking laugh. + +I knew not what to do, for it was full two hours before I had arranged +to meet Constance. Neither did I mean to go into the house at all. She +had told me that her horse should be waiting at the door saddled, and +that we could ride away together. But no horse was there, neither was +there, as I have said, any sign of life; and when I remembered that the +constables might be there at any moment, I was in danger of losing my +senses. + +Thus I did what under any other circumstances might have placed my life +in great danger, for I called to her aloud by name, and if watchers had +been near they would have known that she was there. + +"Constance, my love!" I cried, "it is Roland!" and then, quick as a +flash of light, I felt that she was coming towards me. + +"Roland, is it you?" + +"Ay, it is. Quick! Quick!" + +"Why, what is the matter?" + +"The constables have discovered your hiding-place--they are even on the +way now. Where is your horse?" + +"In the stable. It will take me ten minutes to saddle him." It was the +farmer who spoke. + +"Then saddle him," I cried. "As for you, Constance, will you make +yourself ready for the journey?" + +"Ay, I have been ready for a full hour," she said, and I noticed that +she wore close-fitting garments, but in the dimness of the light I could +not see her as plainly as I desired. + +At that moment I heard the sound of horses' hoofs. Evidently they had +wasted not a moment in coming hither. + +"It is they!" I cried. "Hark! they be coming towards us!" + +My love spoke not a word; but she came close to me as if to gain +strength from my strength. + +"We dare not wait for your horse to be brought," I said. + +"Tell me what to do, and I will do it," she whispered. "Do not be afraid +for me, Roland." + +With one leap I was on Black Ben's back, and a second later she sat +before me. + +"Who goes there?" + +I did not speak, but touched Black Ben's side with my spur. The brave +horse leaped forward, and then stopped as if held by a strong hand. + +"'Tis she, 'tis she! Help! help!" + +"Forward, Ben!" I said, and the horse gave a great leap, leaving himself +at liberty. But this was only for a moment. Another man had leaped +forward, and brought the horse to his haunches. + +"We've got them!" he cried. "Help! help!" + +My sword hand was by this time free, and I brought my weapon down upon +the man's head. The blade turned in my hand, or I must have cleaved his +skull with the blow. But I think he must have worn a steel cap, for +although he fell, I knew I had not killed him. + +"Let me guide your horse, then will your right arm be free, I know the +road," cried Constance; and she took the reins, heedless of the cries we +heard, and a few seconds later we were in a lonely lane. + +"Towards London!" I said, as she hesitated which way to turn, and then a +bullet passed so close to me that it e'en shaved my ear, and to this day +my right ear is not perfect as my left ear is. + +It was no longer a fight. It had now become a race. We had much against +us, seeing we both sat on one horse; but we had much for us also, seeing +that Black Ben had the strength of two horses, and bore us as though we +were feathers. Nevertheless, I knew we could not ride to my father's +house in this fashion, and even then I remember wondering how I was to +get a steed for my love. + +I quickly discovered that there were two horses following us, but +whether they gained on us I could not tell; sometimes I thought they +did, and again I fancied otherwise; but, in any case, we had happened +upon a dangerous time, for more than once I heard a pistol shot, even +although neither of us was harmed. + +"They are gaining on us," I said presently. + +"But only one, Roland." + +"That is true," I said with a laugh, for now that I had my love by my +side I cared not one whit for danger; neither did I feel my weakness, as +I had feared I should. In truth, my strength had come back to me +wondrously. + +Black Ben dashed on at a fine speed as soon as we gained the highway, +but I knew that if our pursuers were well mounted we must in time be +overtaken, for I was never a light man, and must have weighed nine score +pounds even then; while Constance, as I have before stated, was no +slender slip of a maid, but well grown and finely proportioned. However +good a horse may be, he cannot carry two as easily as one, and thus, as +one of our pursuers gained upon us, I had to think of what we were to +do. + +"I have a plan," I said presently. + +"What, Roland?" + +"We will presently let the man close behind us come up to us. I will +unhorse him, and then you shall take his place. There is only one thing +against that." + +"What is that?" she asked eagerly. + +"Only that a man's saddle will be on the nag's back, and it will look +strange for a maid to be riding on a man's saddle." + +I felt her laughing as I spoke, at the which I wondered. + +"Why do you laugh?" I asked. + +"Because I am afraid I should look more strange on a woman's saddle than +a man's," she replied. + +At this I laughed too, for now I realized that she was dressed in the +attire of a gallant, the which I had not noticed at first, seeing that +she wore a long cloak. + +She did not seem to have a vestige of fear, and I knew by the tone of +her voice that her heart was light, even in spite of all she had passed +through. + +Presently we came to a lonely spot, and then I allowed the man who had +been shouting at us to stop to overtake us. + +It was but the work of a moment. The man was no swordsman, neither was +he prepared for my attack. In truth, I believe he expected to find only +Constance, so heedlessly did he ride up. As it was, he fell to the +ground stunned and helpless. + +In less time than it takes me to tell, Constance had leaped on to the +man's horse, and we were soon galloping side by side towards London. + +"They cannot catch us now," she laughed. + +"Why do you think so?" + +"Because I have the better horse. The man who rode this left the other +far behind." + +After this we spoke not for some time, but rode steadily on. + +"You are not afraid, Constance?" + +"Not with you," she replied, and my heart burned with joy at the sound +of her voice. + +Now and then as we passed into an open space I saw that the feather of +her hat waved in the wind, and that the cloak slipped from her +shoulders, revealing the gay attire she wore. + +"I'faith, you make a pretty man," I said. + +"Do I ride like one, Roland?" + +"Ay, and you ride like one, too. In truth, so well do you ride that I +would e'en like a kiss to assure myself that thou art not some gay +gallant who hath come riding with me." + +Again we dashed on, until when morning came we had wellnigh reached +Barnet, and here I deemed it well to turn aside and make my way through +the village of Enfield instead of keeping nearer London. Here we stopped +and breakfasted while the horses were fed and groomed. No one cast +suspicious eyes upon us, for in truth Constance might have passed as my +younger brother, so bravely did she carry herself. Not even the maid of +whom Will Shakespeare wrote in the play _As You Like It_, looked half as +sweet and charming as she. + +"I would call you Rosalind, only Will's heroine was not half so fair as +thee, neither was she half so brave," I laughed as we breakfasted +together in the inn. + +I saw her lip quiver at this, and the tears well up into her eyes; and +then I felt that, although she was as brave as any man--nay, braver than +any man I ever knew--she was still a woman. I saw that, while she was +fearless and bold in the face of danger, she became trembling and +fearful now that the danger was over. Perchance, too, she remembered +her father's fate, and thought of her own lonely condition. But that was +only for a minute, for her eyes had neither tears nor sorrow in them as +they looked up into mine and told me of her love. + +By noon we had reached my father's house. I did not come in at the lodge +gate, but entered by an unfrequented way. It was by a wicket gate which +led through a shrubbery and up to a postern door, a door which was +seldom opened in the old days when I lived at home. + +My heart seemed ready to burst as I came in sight of the house, for it +was now nearly two years since I had seen it; and after all, there is no +spot on earth which affects a man as much as the place where he was born +and reared. + +"I trust my father is at home," I said to Constance. + +"Ay, he is, and here to greet thee, Roland!" + +I turned and saw my father standing by my side. + +"I have been expecting thee, Roland." + +I looked at him in astonishment. + +"Ay, I knew what thou would'st do. Art thou not my own son? That is why +I have been waiting and watching these last twenty-four hours. But come +in," and he opened the postern door. "Fasten the horses here," he said. +"I will give orders concerning them." + +He led the way into the room, where I had had the interview with +Katharine Harcomb two years before, while I watched his face closely, +wondering what he would think of Constance. + +"Remove your hats and cloaks, will you?" he said. + +This we did, and I saw him looking at my love all the time. + +Presently, after gazing at her steadily for some moments, his lips +moved. + +"I do not wonder," he said. "He could not help it. How could he help it? +Had I been the lad, I should have done just the same." + +Neither of us spoke, for I do not think either of us knew what was in +his mind. + +"Dost thou love this boy--my boy Roland?" he asked of Constance +presently. + +Her face became rosy red, and her eyes gleamed brightly. + +"Ay, I do," she said. + +"Then wilt thou kiss me, my child?" + +Had it been any other man on earth I should have been jealous, but my +heart rejoiced as I saw him kiss my love, for I knew what he thought of +her. + +After that he asked us many questions, and when we had answered them he +said sadly, "I have made all provisions." + +"What provisions?" I asked. + +"Even for thy wedding, and for thy departure," he said sadly. "To-morrow +morn thou shalt go to the old church and be wedded, and then thou must +e'en ride to Gravesend and take passage in the vessel there. Perchance, +when another king cometh, thou canst return again, but not until then." + +Neither of us asked him what he meant, for we knew. It grieved us that +we should have to leave my old home, but it had to be, and yet were our +hearts filled with a joy that passeth understanding. + +The next night, as we sailed down the river past the Kentish coast, we +stood side by side and hand in hand. We were man and wife. + +"Are you sad, Constance?" + +"Nay, Roland. The morning will come. Nay, morning is in my heart now, +but morning will also come for our country. For myself I desire +nought--nought, I have everything." + +In truth so had I, and yet I longed to bring my wife back to the home of +my boyhood. + +Of how we fared in the new land I will say nothing here. Neither will I +tell by what means we at length returned to England again, or describe +the joy of our children as they played amongst the gardens of my old +home, while my father, a white-haired man, watched them tenderly. That +is a part of another story which, please God, I may tell some day. + + +THE END + + +Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London. + + * * * * * + + _BY THE SAME AUTHOR._ + + + ALL MEN ARE LIARS + FIELDS OF FAIR RENOWN + ISHMAEL PENGELLY + THE STORY OF ANDREW FAIRFAX + JABEZ EASTERBROOK + THE MONK OF MAR-SARA + ZILLAH. A ROMANCE + WEAPONS OF MYSTERY + MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH + THE BIRTHRIGHT: A ROMANCE + AND SHALL TRELAWNEY DIE? + THE SCARLET WOMAN + THE MADNESS OF DAVID DARING + LEST WE FORGET + O'ER MOOR AND FEN + GREATER LOVE + ESAU + FOLLOW THE GLEAM + A FLAME OF FIRE. + + * * * * * + +SOME PRESS OPINIONS + +of + +Joseph Hocking's Novels + +(UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME). + + +THE COMING OF THE KING. + +Illustrated by GRENVILLE MANTON. + +The first stages of Nonconformity supply the theme of Mr. HOCKING'S +latest book, "The Coming of the King" is an impressive story which +possesses a real value as a faithful study of one of the most important +epochs in religious history. + + +ESAU. + +Illustrated by BERTHA NEWCOMBE. + +"Remarkable for the dramatic power with which the scenes are drawn and +the intense human interest which Mr. Hocking has woven about his +characters. 'Esau' is sure to be one of the novels of the season."--The +Outlook. + +"A brilliant, exciting narrative by a writer who has never penned a dull +page."--The British Weekly. + +"The story is excellent, with no lack of dramatic situations; and the +characters, whether of Cornish folk or Spaniards, are drawn with +considerable skill."--The Birmingham Post. + + +GREATER LOVE. + +Illustrated by GORDON BROWNE. + +"An excellent story, in which the reader will soon find himself +enthralled, the author skilfully compelling his close attention. This +must take rank as one of the best and most interesting of the author's +books."--The Birmingham Post. + +"Though of a totally different character from 'Lest We Forget,' Mr. +Hocking's latest story is entitled to take rank along with that fine +romance. The story arrests the attention from the first chapters, and +soon becomes highly dramatic."--The Newcastle Chronicle. + + +LEST WE FORGET. + +Illustrated by J. BARNARD DAVIS. + +"His story is quite as good as any we have read of the Stanley Weyman's +school, and presents an excellent picture of the exciting times of +Gardiner and Bonner."--Public Opinion. + +"A striking, highly dramatic story. Mr. Hocking has written a very fine +historical novel, full of the fire and dash of youth and love."--Sunday +Special. + + +THE PURPLE ROBE. + +Illustrated by J. BARNARD DAVIS. + +"Mr. Hocking's most interesting romance. It is exceedingly clever, and +excites the reader's interest and brings out the powerful nature of the +clever young minister. This most engrossing book challenges comparison +with the brilliance of Lothair. Mr. Hocking has one main fact always +before him in writing his books--to interest his readers; and he +certainly succeeds admirably in doing so."--The Queen. + + +THE SCARLET WOMAN. + +With Eight Full-page Illustrations by SYDNEY COWELL. + +"We know of no novel by Mr Hocking that we have liked so much, and we +have liked many. Powerful and human from beginning to end, and throbbing +with the moral healthiness of a work by a writer who, while he interests +more than many who merely interest, has the higher purpose of +inculcating truths that lead to healthiness of life and human +endeavour."--Weekly Dispatch. + +"The story goes with a swing. The struggle between nature and religious +training is skilfully described, and the plot is carried from one vivid +incident to another."--Christian World. + +"This is Mr. Hocking's strongest and best book. We advise every one to +read it. The plot is simple, compact and strenuous; the writing +powerful. It brings out sharply the real character of the typical +Jesuit, his training, motives, limitations, aims."--Methodist Recorder. + + +ALL MEN ARE LIARS. + +With Frontispiece and Vignette by GORDON BROWNE. + +It is no exaggeration to say that the publication of this unique book +created a sensation. It was so strenuously in earnest, so pitiless in +its exposure of the effects of pessimism, and so realistic in its +picture of the dark side of London life, that thousands who had not read +any previous work of Mr. HOCKING'S read it and discussed it in the +press, in the class-room and in private. The striking title, the sombre +strength of the writing, but above all the correctness and purity of the +purpose, combined to render "All Men are Liars" one of the most +remarkable works of the day. + +"This is a notable book. Thoughtful people will be fascinated by its +actuality, its fearlessness, and the insight it gives into the influence +of modern thought and literature upon the minds and morals of our most +promising manhood."--Christian World. + +"A striking book.... It is strong and earnest and vigorous; it shows +knowledge of the lower class, and impatience and contempt of shams of +all sorts."--Standard. + +"We are in the midst of real life, with a record at all times eloquent +and not infrequently brilliant."--Literary World. + + +ISHMAEL PENGELLY: an Outcast. + +With Frontispiece and Vignette by W. S. STACEY. + +From the point of view of lurid power and breathless interest one of the +very strongest of all Mr. HOCKING'S books. The wild Cornish background, +the strength of the character-drawing, the atmosphere of tragedy, +combine to make it a work of singular originality. + +"As a story this book is a splendid piece of writing, every detail is +interesting, and the situations it creates are novel and +striking."--Record. + +"A remarkable novel.... The plot of the story is ingenious, the manner +of its telling essentially dramatic, the character-drawing excellent and +consistent."--Christian World. + +"The characters are admirably drawn. An extremely vigorous, healthful +and interesting tale."--Academy. + +"The book is to be recommended for the dramatic effectiveness of some of +the scenes. The wild, half-mad woman is always picturesque wherever she +appears, and the rare self-repression of her son is admirably +done."--Athenĉum. + + +THE STORY OF ANDREW FAIRFAX. + +With Frontispiece and Vignette by GEORGE HUTCHINSON. + +"Andrew Fairfax" is undoubtedly the story by which Mr. HOCKING came into +his own. It placed him at once in the front rank of popular novelists, +and by many competent critics it is considered to be by far his best +book. It has been compared favourably with the best novels of Mr THOMAS +HARDY, but the class of realism to which many readers take objection, +and that is connected with the name of Mr. Hardy, is never to be found +in Mr Hocking's works. A purer, more wholesome, and more manly book than +"Andrew Fairfax" it would be hard to write. + +"Rustic scenes and characters are drawn with free, broad touches, +without Mr. Buchanan's artificiality, and, if we may venture to say it, +with more realism than Mr. Hardy's country pictures."--Manchester +Examiner. + +"Beautifully told. There are few books better adapted to widen the mind +and discipline the judgment than this noble story."--Liverpool Mercury. + +"Few stories by later-day novelists have interested us so keenly. A +brilliant story, rich in sparkling incident and clever character +sketches."--Christian Age. + + +THE BIRTHRIGHT. + +With Three Full-page Illustrations by HAROLD PIFFARD. + +"This volume proves beyond all doubt that Mr. Hocking has mastered the +art of the historical romancist. 'The Birthright' is, in its way, quite +as well constructed, as well written, and as full of incident as any +story that has come from the pen of Mr. Conan Doyle or Mr Stanley +Weyman."--Spectator. + +"For an historical romance to hold a weary reviewer, to hold him at this +time of day, and to interest him to the end, is in itself a complete +testimony to the power and excellence of that story. We confess that we +read Mr Hocking's book at a sitting; not because we had any leisure for +the task, but simply because the book compelled us.... We hold our +breath as each chapter draws to an end, yet cannot stop there, for the +race is unflagging. We congratulate Mr Hocking upon the book, for it is +a very great advance upon anything he has done."--Daily Chronicle. + + +MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH. + +With Six Full-page Illustrations by F. H. TOWNSEND. + +"'Mistress Nancy Molesworth' is as charming a story of the kind as could +be wished, and it excels in literary workmanship as well as in +imaginative vigour and daring invention.... It would hardly be possible +to tell a story of its kind better, or to leave the reader better +pleased at the end."--Scotsman. + + +FIELDS OF FAIR RENOWN. + +With Frontispiece and Vignette by J. BARNARD DAVIS. + +This striking story has all the fine qualities which have made Mr +HOCKING'S novels so popular with his huge circle of readers. In none of +his books has he drawn finer pictures of Cornish life, or told a sweeter +love-tale. But this particular story has a peculiar interest of its own, +telling, as it does, of the literary beginnings of an author who +afterwards became one of the most popular novelists of the day. Every +one interested in literature--every one who wishes to know something of +the wire-pulling which is too often at work m the literary world--should +read this remarkable story. + +"Mr. Joseph Hocking's 'Fields of Fair Renown' is a novel with a purpose, +and the theme is worked out with a good deal of force and effective +power ... it is both interesting and powerful."--Scotsman. + +"Mr Hocking has produced a work which his readers of all classes will +appreciate.... There are exhibited some of the most beautiful aspects of +disposition."--Dundee Advertiser. + + +AND SHALL TRELAWNEY DIE? + +With Three Full-page Illustrations by LANCELOT SPEED. + +"We can strongly recommend both stories as healthy and hearty tales, +sensational but not incredible."--British Weekly. + +"An engaging and fascinating romance. The reader puts the story down +with a sigh, and wishes there were more of these breezy Cornish uplands, +for Mr. Joseph Hocking's easy style of narrative does not soon +tire."--Weekly Sun. + + +JABEZ EASTERBROOK. + +With Frontispiece and Vignette by W. S. STACEY. + +"Jabez Easterbrook" is one of the very few "religious novels" which are +also strikingly interesting as stories, quite apart from their religious +purpose. The life of the Wesleyan Minister has seldom been so +painstakingly or so sympathetically pictured. + +"Real strength is shown in the sketches, of which that of Brother Bowman +is most prominent. In its way it is delightful."--Rock. + +"A book that can be read with interest and with profit. A clever tale, +cleverly told."--Record. + + +THE WEAPONS OF MYSTERY. + +With Frontispiece + +"Weapons of Mystery" is a singularly powerful story of occult influences +and of their execution for evil purposes. Like all Mr HOCKING'S novels, +"Weapons of Mystery" has an underlying religious and moral purpose, but +merely as a story, and quite apart from the purpose which was in the +mind of the author, the tale has a curious fascination for the reader. +The cleverly conceived plot, and the strange experience of the hero and +heroine make "Weapons of Mystery" a story which it is not easy to put +down when once commenced. + + +ZILLAH: A Romance. + +With Frontispiece. + +"Zillah" is also a novel with a purpose--in fact--with two purposes. Its +first purpose is to tell a thoroughly interesting story in a thoroughly +interesting way, and in that it certainly succeeds. Its second purpose +is to deal fairly but fearlessly with certain theories about the After +Life and the Spirit World which are just now very much agitating the +minds of religious thinkers. Every one interested in Clairvoyance, +Hypnotism and Spiritualism, should read this strikingly just but +fearlessly outspoken novel. + +"The drawing of some of the characters indicates the possession by Mr +Hocking of a considerable gift of humour. The contents of his book +indicate that he takes a genuine interest in the deeper problems of the +day."--Spectator. + + +THE MONK OF MAR-SABA. + +With Frontispiece and Vignette by WALTER S. STACEY. + +A very beautiful and human story, the scene of which is laid in the Holy +Land, which Mr. HOCKING visited personally before writing the tale. + +"Great power and thrilling interest.... The scenery of the Holy Land has +rarely been so vividly described as in this charming book of Mr +Hocking's."--Star. + +"The author has turned his visit to Palestine to good account.... His +descriptions of the wild scenery of different parts of the Holy Land are +both vigorous and graphic, and the stories themselves are +interesting."--Manchester Guardian. + +"Powerfully written."--Daily Telegraph. + +"Mr. Hocking has undoubtedly the power of telling a stirring incident +well, and he gives one the impression of being pervaded by moral +earnestness."--Spectator. + + +LONDON: WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Coming of the King, by James Hocking + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE COMING OF THE KING *** + +***** This file should be named 37042-8.txt or 37042-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/0/4/37042/ + +Produced by Thierry Alberto, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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