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D AddKkHial comments / Commentaires supplementaires: This it*fn is f irmad at the raduetion ratio chackad baiow/ Ce fkKumant nt filmi au uux de riduction indiquc ci-dtssous. m 20X 2X »x Th* Gopv fllmad hara hai baan raproduead thanki to tha ganarotity of: National Library of Carada Tha imagaa appaaring hara ara tha baat quality poMibIa conaidaring tha condition and lagibility of tha original copy and in liaaping with tha filming contract apaeificatlona. Original eopiac in printod papar covar* ara fllmad baginning with tha front covar and anding on tha last page with a printad or illuitraiad impraa- ilon, or tha back covar whan appropriata. All othar original copiaa ara fiimad baginning on tha firit paga with a printad or illustratad impras- aion, and anding on tha laat paga with a printad or illustratad imprassion. Tha last rscordad frama on aach microficha shall contain tha symbol — ^ Imaaning "CON- TINUED"), or tha symbol V (maaning "END"). whiehavar appiias. 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Las diagrammas suivants illustrant la mathoda. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 MICTOCOrr >ES01UTI0N TIST CHAKT (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No, 2, ■1^ 1^ li^ lllll U 1.8 1.6 _^ /APPLIED IN/MGE In ^-. ^ 1653 Cost Main Street S^S Rochester, New York 1*609 USA r.^5 (^'6) 462-0300- Phone ^= (716) 288 - 5989 - Fa. cP r> •-3§2fe=tf=:;%=^ ■^ ^^ ^ / ■•- The captain fini.,hed with a shrug of vexation. MKN OF DESrEKATF. FORTUNES. 'S "Look yc, gentlemen, he lays it to my youth," continued the persecutor, "but there's yet a horse of another colour. This captain is free enough with his bluster and his sword ; he has drawn quarts of blood for a single word that mislikcd him, upon occasion; but he will bear a thousand scurvy af. fronts from any man for the sake of a supper. You shall sec — " "Supper!" echoed the captain, springing up. " Do you cast your filthy supper in my teeth ? Nay, then, I'll cast it in thine own." With this, thoroughly enraged. Captain Raven- shaw seized the particular capon to which the gallant had alluded, and flung it across the table into the gallant's face. It struck with a thud, and, rebound- ing, left the young man a countenance both startled and greasy. Not content, ~ the offended captain thereupon reached forth to the fowl which had been served as companion to the capon, and this he hurled in the same direction. But he aimed a little too high, moreover the fop ducked his head, and so the juicy missile sped across the room, to lodge plump against the stomach of a person who had just then come into view in the open doorway. This person showed lean in body and shabby in raiment. He made a swift, instinctive grasp at the thing with which he had come so unexpectedly in contact, and happened to catch it before it could i6 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. fall to the floor. He held it up with both hand, to h« gaze a moment, and then, having a.certained vanished wth .t. Let us follow him. leaving behind thclandladys rushing in to preserve order for t^e good name of the house, was very soon after restored to a cond.t,on of peace by the wrathful departure of Ravcnshaw from the company of an offender too young for him to chastise with the sword Theill-clad person who clutched the cookc fowl which accident had thus summarily bestowed upon' h.m. made short work of fleeing down the stairs and out into the black, chill February night Once outside, though he could not see his hand before his face, he turned toward Cheapside and stumbled forward along the miry way. his desire evidently being to put hin>self so far from the Windmill tavern that he might not be overtaken by any one who could lay claim to the fowl. The air was damp as well as cold. The fugitive keeping his ungloved hands warm by sprea ling the,.,' around the fowl, which was fresh from the sjJt. had to grope his way th. .ugh an inky wind. He listened for possible footfalls behind him, but he heard none and so he chuckled i:,wardly and held his prize dose to his breast with a sense of security. Now and then he raised it to his nostrils, in anticipation of MEN OF DESPEKATK FOKTlfXES. i; the feast he should enjoy u|)on arriving at the rest- ing-piacc he had in mind. He would have made a strange spectacle to anybody who might have been able to see him from one of the rattling casements as he passed; but so dark it was that downlookcrs could no more have seen him than he could sec the painted plaster, carved cross-timbers, projcct- mg wmdows, and gabled rcf-peaks of the tall houses that lined the nauovv street through which he fled. At one place a lantern hanging over a door threw a famt light upon him for a moment, and showed a young man's face, with sharp features and a soft expression; but the face vas instantly gone in the darkness, and there was no other night-walker abroad m the street to have seen it whiU t was visible. "Surely," he medita" .y1, as he went, "the time of miracles has returned. And even a starved scholar IS found worthy of Heaven's interposition. With the temerity of the famished, I enter a tavern, ascend the stairs, and steal into a room which I take to be empty because no sound comes from it, my only hope being to pilfer a little warmth nobody will miss, perchance to fall heir to a drop of wine at the bottom of a glass, or a bone upon an uncleared table. And lo, I find myself in the presence of a gentleman asleep before a pot of mulled canary which he has scarce wet his throat withal. In three i8 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. \ swallows I make the canary my own, just in time to set down the pot before in comes a tapster. I feign I am in search of friends, who must be in t'other chamber. To make good the deceit, I must needs look in at t'other chamber door ; when, behold, some follower of Mars, who looks as hungry as myself, pelts me with poultry. It is plainly a gift of the gods, and I am no such ill-mannered clown as to stay and inquire into the matter. Well, gatideamus igitur, my sweet bird ; here we are at St. Mary Cole Church, )n the steps of which we shall make each other's better acquaintance. Jove ! — or rather Bac- chus! — what tumult a pint or so of mulled wine makes in the head of a poor master of arts, when too suddenly imbibed ! " He went half-way up the steps and sat down, crouching into the smallest figure possible, as if he might thus offer the least surface to the cold. Sink- ing his teeth into the succulent breast of the roast fowl, he forgot the weather in the joy of eating. But he had scarce taken two bites when he was fain to suspend his pleasure, for the sound of rapid foot- falls came along the way he had just traversed. He took alarm. " Sit quiet now, in God's name Master Holyday ! " he mentally adjured himself. " 'Tis mayhap one in search of the fowl. Night, I am beholden to thee for thy mantle." MEN OF DESPERATE FORTUNES. 19 The person strode past and into Cheapside with- out apprehension of the scholar's presence upon the steps. Tne scholar could not mike out the man's looks, but could divine from sundry muttered oaths he gave vent to, and from his incautious haste of movement, that he was angry. "God 'a' mercy! how he takes to heart the loss of a paltry fowl ! " mused Master Holyday, resuming the consumption of his supper on the church steps. "For, certes, 'twas from the Windmill he came ; from his voice, and the copiousness of his swearing, I should take him to be that very soldier whom the gods impelled to provide me with supper. Well, he is now out of hearing; and a good thing, too, for there comes the moon at last from the ragged edge of yon black cloud. Blow, wind, and clear the sky for her. Pish ! what is this } Can I not find my mouth .' Ha, ha ! 'tis the mulled wine." The scholar had indeed struck his nose with the fowl, when he had meant to bring it again between his teeth. He was conscious of the increased effect of the wine in other ways, too, and chiefly in a pleasanter perception of everything, a sense of agree- able comicality in all his s-rroundings, a warmed regard for all objects within view or thought. This enhanced the enjoyment of his meal. The moon- light, though frequently dimmed by rushing scraps of cloud, made visible the streets near whose June- 20 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. II tion he sat, so that the house fronts stood strangely forth in weird shine and shadow. The scholar, shivering upon the steps, was the only living creature in the scene. Yet there seemed to be a queer half- life come into inanimate things. The wind could be heard moaning sometimes in unseen passages. The hanging signs creaked as if they now and then conversed one with another in brief, monosyllabic language. " In the daylight," thought the scholar, " men and women possess the streets, their customs prevail, and their opinions rule. But now, forsooth, the house fronts and the signs, the casements and the weathercocks, have their conference. Are they con- sidering solely of their own matters, or do they tell one another tales of the foolish beings that move about on legs, hurrying and chattering, by day.' Faith, is it of me they are talking .' See with what a blank look those houses gaze down at me, like a bench of magistrates at a rogue. But the house at the end, the tall one with the straight front, — I swear it is frowning upon me. And the one beside it, with the fat oriel windows, and whose upper stories belly so far out over the street, — as I'm a gentleman and a scholar, 'tis laughing at me. Has it come to this .' — to be a thing of mirth to a monster of wood and plaster, a huge face with eyes of glass .' For this did Ralph Holyday take his degrees at MElf OP DESPERATE FORTUNES. 21 Cambridge University, and was esteemed as able a disputant as ever came forth of Benet College? Go thy ways, Ralph; better wert thou some fat cifzen snoring behind yon same walls, than Master Holyday, master artmm. lodging houseless on the church steps with all thy scholarship. Not so neither; thou wouldst be damned rather! Hark' who is it walks in Cheapside, and coming this way.' He might have recognised the tread as the same which had some minutes before moved in the oppo- Mte direction; though it was now less rapid, as if the owner of the feet had walked off some of his wrath. Coming into view at the end of the Old Jewry, that owner proved to :„ in truth the very soldier of whom Holyday had caught a glimpse at the tavern. The soldier, turning by some impulse, saw the scholar on the steps; but his warlike gaze had now no terror for Master Holyday, who had put at least half of the fowl beyond possible recovery, and whose appetite was no longer keen "God save you. sir ! " said the scholar, courteously. Were you seeking a certain roast fowl > " "Not I, sirrah," replied Captain Ravenshaw, ap- proachmg Holyday. -You are he that stood fn the doorway, perchance.^ Rest easy; the fowl was none of mine. I should scorn to swallow a morsel 23 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. And yet he eyed it in such a manner that Master Holyday, who was a good judge of a hungry glance, said, placidly : "You are welcome to what is left of it here." Which offer the scholar enforced with a satisfied sigh, indicating fulness of stomach. The captain made a very brief pretence ' silent hesitation, then accepted the remainder of the feast from the scholar's hands, saying : " Worshipful sir, it should go hard with me ere I would refuse true hospitality. Have I not seen you about the town before this night ? " He sat down beside Hulyday, and began to devour the already much-diminished fowl. "I know not," replied the scholar, who had a mild, untroubled way of speaking. "Twas last Michaelmas I came to London. 1 have kept some riotous company, but, if I have met you, I remember not." " 'Slight ! you know then who I be ? " " Not I, truly." " Yet you call me riotous." " That argues no previous knowledge. Though I be a Cambridge man, it takes none of my schol- arship to know a gentleman of brawls at sight, a roaring boy, a swaggerer of the taverns — " " Why, boy, why ! Do you mean offence in these names .' " MEN OF DESPERATE FORTUNES. 23 "No offence in the world. You see I bear no sword, being but a poor master of arts. None so bold of speech as the helpless, among honourable men of the sword." "Some truth in that. Look ye, young sir, hast ever heard of one Ravenshaw, a captain, about the town here .' " "Ay, he is the loudest roarer of them all, I have heard ; one whose bite is as bad as his bark, too, which is not the case with all of these braggadocios ; but he is a scurvy rascal, is he not .' a ragged hector of the ale-houses. Is it he you mean ? " " Ha ! that is his reputation > Well, to say truth, he may comfort himself by knowing he deserves it. But the world used him scurvily first — nay, a plague on them that whine for themselves! I am that Ravenshaw." "Then I must deal softly; else I am a hare as good as torn to pieces by the dogs." " Why, no, scholar, thou needst not be afeard. I like thee, young night-walker. Thou wert most civil c( icerning this fowl. 'Od's light ! but for thee, my sudden pride had played my belly a sad trick this night. Thou art one to be trusted, I see, and when I have finished with this bird, I will tell thee some- thing curious of my rascal reputation. But while I eat, prithee, who art thou .' and what is it hath sent thee to be a lodger on the steps of St. Mary Cole 34 CAl'TAIN KAVENSHAW. Church ? Come, scholar ; thou might do worse than make a friend of roaring Ravenshaw." "Nay, I have no enemies I would wish killed. But I am any man's gossip, if he have inclination for my discourse, and be not without lining to his head- piece. My name is Ralph Holyday ; I am only son to Mr. Francis Holyday, a Kentish gentleman of good estate. He is as different a manner of man from me as this night is from a summer day. He is stubborn and tempastuous ; he will have his way, though the house fall for it. He has no love of books and learning, neither ; but my mother, seeing that I was of a bookish mind, worked upon him un- ceasingly to send me to the university, till at last, for peace' sake, he packed me off to Cambridge. While I was there, my mother died — rest her soul, poor lady! After I took my degrees, my father would have it that I come home, and fit myself to succeed him. Home I went, perforce, but I had no stomach for the life he would lead me. I rather pre- ferred to sit among my books, and to royster at the ale-house in company with a parson, who had as great love for learned disputation as for beer and venison. Many a pleasant day and night have I sat with good Sir Nicholas, drinking, and arguing upon the soul's immortality. This parson had sundry friends, too, good knaves, though less given to learning than to tossing the pot ; they were poachers all, to say truth, MEN OF D ESI E RATE FORTUNES. 25 and none be. sr with the crossbow at a likely deer than the vicar. Thus, when I ought to have been busy in the matter of preserving my father's deer, I would be abroad in forbidden quest of other men's ; 'twas, I know not how, the more sportive and curious occupation. Well, my father stormed at these ways of mine, but there was no method of curing them. But one day he became fearful his blood should die out. He must have descendants, he swore, and to that end I must find a wife straightway. Here is where we crossed weapons, I am not blind to the charms of women, but I am cursed with such timidity of them, such bashfulness when I am near them, that if I tried to court one, or if one were put upon me as wife, I should fall to pieces for shaking. I would sooner attempt anew the labours of Hercules than go a-wooing for a wife." "'Tis a curious affliction," remarked the captain, pausing in his feast. " But many men have it ; fight- ing men, too. There was Dick Rokeby, that was my comrade in France ; he that fought with Harry Spence and me, each one 'gainst t'other two, upon the question of the properest oath for a soldier to swear by, Harry was one of your Latin fellows, and held for 'the buckler of Mars.' Dick Rokeby said r.n Englishman could do no better than swear by the lance of St. George. And I vowed by the spurs of Harry Fift' I would put down any man CMPTAM KAVENSllAW. that thought better of any other oath. We fought it out, three-cornered, in Grey's Inn Fields ; and the spurs of Harry Fift' won the day. As for women, I am their enemy on other grounds. There was one I trusted, 'nd when I was at the wars she wronged me with my friend. I have sworn revenge upon the sex, curse 'em ! So you would not narry ? " "That I would not. The only women I can ap- proach without trembling at the knees, and my face burning, and my tongue sticking fast, are serving- maids and common drabs, and such as I would not raise to a place of quality. So the end was that, after he had raged and threatened for six months, my father cast me forth, swearing I should never cross his doorsill, or have a penny of him. till I should come back with a wife on my arm. And so I came last Michaelmas to London." " And how hast made shift to live since then ? " "Why, first upon some money my friend Sir Nick thrust upon me; then by the barter of my clothes in Cornhill ; and meanwhile I had writ a play, a tragedy, that Master Henslowe gave me five pounds for." "I v/ould fain see thy tragedy. How is it named ? " " God knows when it may be played ; it has not yet been. It is ' The Lamentable Tragedy of Queen Nitocris.' The story is in a Greek history." MEN OF DESPERATE FORTVNES. 27 " What, yoii dare not even discourse with a mere gentlewoman, yet write the intimate histories of queens ? " " Yes, friend ; there are many of us poor poets do so. We herd with trulls, and dream of empresses. (A passable decasyllabic line, that !) But I have not been able to sell another tragedy, nor yet to have my sonnets printed, whereby I might get ten pounds for a dedication. And so you see me as I am." "Well," said the captain, having by this time pretty well stuffed himself, "I like thee the bet- ter for being a poet. Such as you know me to be, you will scarce believe it; but I am one — or was once — fitted by nature to take joy in naught so much as in poetry, and the sweet pastoral life that poets praise so. But never whisper this; I were a dead man if the town knew the softness underneath my leathern outside. But in very truth, as for books, I would give all the Plutarchs in the world for one canto of 'The Faerie Queene" or ten pages of the gentler part of Sidney's 'Arcadia.' Had I won my choice, I had passed my days, not in camps and battles, taverns and brawls, but in green meadows, sitting and strolling among flowers, reading some book of faery or shepherds — for I never could make up poetry of my own." "That picture belies the common report of Captain Ravenshaw." 38 CAPTAIN ftAVF.KSIIAW. "Ay Master Holyday ; swaggering Ravcnshaw is no shepherd of poesy. Hut hearken to what I prom- ised thee : I, too, am a gentleman's son ; the family is an old one in Worcestershire, — observe I call it not my family. I was early a cast-off scion, and for no fault of mine, I swear. 'Twas the work of a woman, a she-devil, that bewitched my father. But God forbid I should afHict any man, or rouse mine own dead feelings, with the tale of my wrongs ! I was no roaring boy then; I was a tame youth, and a modest. But when I found myself out in the world, I soon learned that with a mild mien, unless a man have a craftiness I lacked, he is ever thrust back- ward, and crushed against the wall, or trodden upon in the ditch. And so for policy I took the time and pains to make myself a ma.ster of the sword, not that I might brawl, but that I might go my ways in peace. In good time, I killed two men or so that were thought invincible ; and I supposed the noise of this would save me from affronts after that." " And was it not so .' " "Perchance it had been, if my manner had com- ported with the deed. But I still went modest in my bearing, and so my prowess was soon forgot ; some may have thought my victories an accident of fortune ; besides, strangers knew not what I had done, and saw no daring in me ; and so I found myself as unconsidered as ever. And at last, when the woman MFM OF DEsrEKATF. FOR TUXES. 29 I loved turned treacherous and robbed me of the friend at court on whom my fortune hung, and malice was hatched in me, I bethought me of a new trick, I took on a bold front, an insolent outside ; I became a swearer, a swaggerer, a roaring boy, a braggart ; and lo ! people soon stepped aside to let me pass. I found this blustering masquerade a thousand times more potent to secure immunity than my real swordsmanship had been. The trans- formation was but skin-deep at first ; but the wars, and my hard life and my poverty, helped its increase, so that now it has worked in to the heart of me. There was a time it made mc ill to sink my rapier into a man's soft flesh, but '( grew to be of stronger stomach. And when I first put on the mask of brazen effrontery, I was often faint within when I seemed most insolent. liut now I am indeed roaring Ravenshaw, all but a little of me, and that little often sleeps." " But this insolence of thine, real or false, seems not to have made thy fortune " " Nay, but it has made my poverty the less con- temptible. Lay not my undoing to it. When the war laste And we are free of the streets of London, aren't we, boys } My name, sir, is Ravenshaw — Captain Ravenshaw ; and this gentleman — " He was about to introduce his companions by the names of great persons of the court, when, casting his eyes over the group for the first time since the link-boys had come up with their torches, he was suddenly otherwise concerned. 40 CAFTAIN KAVENSIIAW. "Why, whcrc's Master llnlyday? Where the devil's our scholar ? " The gallants looked from one to another, and then peered into the surrounding darkness, but saw no one; nor came any answer to the captain's shout, " What ho, Holyday I Hollo, hollo ! " " An't please you," spoke up one of the link-boys, " while we waited yonder, the watchmen ran past us ; and methought two of them dragged a man along between them; but 'twas so dark, and they went so fast — " "Marry, that's how the wind lies," cried the captain. "Gallants, here's more business of a roaring nature. A rescue ! Come, the hunt is up I To the cage, boys I We may catch 'em on the way." Without more ado, Ravcnshaw led his followers, link-boys and all, on a run toward the Poultry, leav- ing the grateful old gentleman in the darkness and to his own devices. They hastened to the night-watch prison, but over- took no one on the way ; it was clear that the watch- men had made themselves and their prisoner safe behind doors. An attack on the prison would have been a more serious business than the captain could see any profit in. So, abandoning the luckless scholar to the course of the law, the night-disturbers made their way back to Cheapside, wondering what riotous business they might be about next. DrSTUKBEKS OF THE NIGHT. 4' " What ass^s are these ! " thought the captain. •' They have warm beds to go to, yet they rather wear out their soles upon the streets in search of trouble. Well, it helps me pass the night, and I am every way the gainer by it ; so if puppies must needs learn to play the lion, may they have no worse teacher." When they came to the Standard, that ancient stone structure rising in the middle of the street, they walked around it to see if the old gentleman was there ; but the place was deserted. "Here were a matter to wager upon, now," ob- served the captain: "Whether he met his mistress after all and bore her away, or whether he found her not and went wisely to bed." A few steps farther brought the strollers opposite the mouth of Bread Street. The sound of men's voices came from within this narrow thoroughfare. " Marry, here be other fellows abroad," quoth the captain. " How if we should 'light upon occasion for a brawl ? Then we should see if we could put them down with big words. Come, lads." They turned into the narrow street and proceeded toward a group whose four or five dark figures were indistinctly marked in the flickering glare of a single torch. This group appeared to be circled about a closed doorway opposite All-hallows Church, at the farther corner of Watling Street, in which doorway stood the object of its attention. 42 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. "Some drunken drab o' the streets, belike," said the captain, in a low voice, to his followers. " We'll feign to know her, and we'll call ourselves her friends; that will put us on brawling terms with those gentlemen. They are gallants, sure, by their cloaks and feathers." The gentlemen were, it seemed, too disdainful of harm to interrupt their mirth by looking to see who came toward them. The heartless amusement on their faces, the tormenting tone of the jesting words they spoke, gave an impression somewhat like that of a pack of dogs surrounding a helpless animal which they dare not attack, but which they entertain them- selves by teasing. The captain stepped unchallenged into the little circle, and looked at the person shrinking in the doorway, who was quite visible in the torchlight. " 'Slight ! " quoth the captain. " This is no trull ; 'tis a young gentlewoman." His surprise was so great as to make him for the moment forget the plan he had formed of precipitat- ing a quarrel. The young gentlewoman looked very young indeed, and very gentle, being of a slight fig- ure, and having a delicate face. She leaned close against the door, at which she had, as it seemed, put herself at bay. Her face, still wet with tears, re- tained something of the distortion of weeping, but was nevertheless charming. Her eyes, yet moist. D/STUKBEHS OF THE NICIIT. 43 were like violets on which rain had fallen. Her lips had nut ceased to (|uivcr with tho emotion which had started her tears. Ucr hair, which was of a light brown, was in some disorder, partly from the wind ; fur the hootl of the brown cloak she wore had been pulled back. It might easily be guessed who had pulled it, for the gentleman who stood nearest her, clad in velvet, and by whose behaviour the others seemed to be guided, held in his hand a little black mask, which he must have plucked from the girl's face. This gentleman was tall, nobly formed, and of a magnificent appearance. His features were ruddy, bold, and cut in straight lines. He wore silken black moustaches, and a small black beard trimmed to two points. At the captain's words, this gentleman looked around, took full note of the speaker in a brief glance, and scarce dropping his smile, — a smile care- less and serene, of heartless humour, — said, calmly : " Stand back, knave ; she is not for your eyes." The captain had already thought of the inequality between this fragile damsel and her persecutors ; despite his account against womankind, her looks and attitude had struck within him a note of com- passion ; and now her chief tormentor had called him a knave. He remembered the purpose with which he had arrived upon the scene. 44 CAPTAIN RAVENSIIAW. " Knave in your teeth, thou villain, thou grinning Lucifer, thou — thou— I" The captain was at a loss for some word of revilement that niight be used against so fine a gentleman without seeming ridicu- lously misapplied. "Thou beater of the streets for stray fawns, thou frighter of delicate wenches ! " " Why, what motley is this ? " replied the velvet gallant. "What mummer that is whole-clad above the girdle, and rags below.' what mongrel, what patch, what filthy beggar in a stolen cloak ? Avaunt, thing I " The gentleman grasped the gilded hilt of his rapier, as if to enforce his command if need be. " Ay, draw, and come on ! " roared the captain. " You'll find me your teacher in that." At the same moment a restraining clutch was put upon the gentleman's sleeve by one of his compan- ions, who now muttered some quick words of pru- dence in his ear. Whether it was due to this, or to the captain's excellent flourish in unsheathing, he of the double-pointed beard paused in the very move- ment of drawing his weapon, and a moment later slid the steel back into its velvet scabbard. In his desistance from a violent course, there was evidently some consideration private to himself and his friend, some secret motive for the avoidance of a brawl. " Say you so ? " quoth the gentleman, blandly, as if no untoward words had passed. "Well, if you D/STUKBEKS Of THE NIGHT. 45 can be my teacher, you must be as gixxl a rapier-aml- dagger man as any in the kingclum, and there's an end on't. Arc you that ? " " Sir, you might have tried mc, and found out," said the captain, considerably moUificci at the other's unexpected politeness, and putting up his sword. " Why, marry, another time I may have occasion to see your skill — nay, I mean not a challenge; I should enjoy to sec you fight any man." "But what of this gentlewoman, sir.'" said the captain, interrogatively. "Why, you will not dispute, it is my prize, by right of discovery. You a swordman, and not know the laws of war ? Faith, we men of the sea are better learned." " Nay, but is she of the breed to make a prize of .' Methinks she looks it not." " Pish, man, a pretty thing or so ; a citizen's filly, mayhap, that hath early slipped the halter ; she will not tell her name; but what we find loose in the streets after curfew, we know what it is, -.hatsoever it may look." The girl now spoke for the first time since the captain had seen her. Her voice, though disturbed by her feelings, was not shrill like a child's, but had the fulness of blossoming womanhood, and went with the smoothness common to well-bred 46 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. " I was never in the streets at night before," she said, sobbingly. " There was one I was to meet, who was waiting for me at the Standard in Cheapside." "Eh!" quoth the captain, with a suddenly in- creased interest. " Some gallant 'prentice, belike," said the gentle- man in velvet, with his singular smile of gaiety and cruelty. " Some brave cavalier of the flat cap, whom we frighted off." "'Twas not so!" cried the girl. "He was not frighted off. I was going to him, and was near the place, but I could not see him yet, 'twas so dark. And then the watch came, with their lanterns, and I stood still, so they might not observe me. But I saw them go to the Standard, and take my — my friend that waited for me. I knew not what to do, and so I stayed where I was, all dismayed. And then, but not till the watch had gone away with him, came you cruel gentlemen and found me. So he was not frighted by you. Alas, if he had but seen me, and come to meet me ! " "But he was soon free of the watch," said the captain, wondering what such a damsel should have to do in surreptitiously meeting such a worshipful old married gentleman. " Came he not back to the place } 'Tis a good while since." "How know you about him?" queried the girl, with wonder. DISTURBEKS OF THE NIGHT. 47 " 'Tis no matter," said the captain, forgetting for the nonce to brag of an exploit. " He ought to have come back to the place to seek you ; he was no true man, else." " Belike he did, then," said the girl, quickly, with hope suddenly revived. " Nay, 'tis certain he waits not at the Standard ; we came from there but now. Doubtless his taking up by the watch gave him his fill of waiting there. He seemed a man with no stomach for night risks." "Then," said the girl, mournfully, "he must have come back after I had run from these gentlemen. Then he would think I could not meet him ; 'twas past the time we had set. Oh, villains, that I should run from you, and miss my friend, and yet be caught at last ! He would give all up, and go to his inn, and back to the country at daybreak. All's over with me ! Oh, ye have much to answer for ! " . "How prettily it cries!" quoth the handsome gentleman. "Faith, sir," said the captain, good-humouredly, " let's see an 'twill laugh as prettily. How if we led this dainty weeper to her friend's inn, and roused him out .' Perchance then we shall have smiles for these showers. Where does he lie, little mistress .' " "Alas, I know not. 'Twould be near the river, I think." 48 CAPTA/ff RAVENSHAW. "Oho, that he might take boat quicker," said the gentleman. "And now will he fly without thee at daybreak, say'st thou? Never sorrow, sweetheart; I'll boat thee to Brentford myself to-morrow." "There be scores of inns near the river," said the captain to the girl. " But we might make trial at some of them, an we knew by what name to call for your friend." "Nay, that I'll never tell! I know not if he would give his true name at the inn. Alas, what shall I do 1 " " Why, come to the tavern and make merry," said Velvet Suit, "as we have been inviting you this half-hour." " I'll freeze in the streets sooner ! " " Is there need of that, then .>" asked the captain. " Hast no place in London to go to .' Came you not from some place to meet your friend .' " " From my father's house, of course." " Then why not go back to it ? What's to fear > 'Twas late when you came forth, was it not.> I'll wager thy people were abed. Did they know you meant to play the runaway ? " "'Tis not like they know it yet," she replied, a little relieved from complete dismay, but still down- hearted. "And sure the way you came by must be open still," went on the captain. DISTUKBERS OF THE NIGHT. 49 " I locked the door behind me ; but I left the key where I can find it, if you gentlemen will let me go. You will, sirs ; I'll thank ye so much ! I am undone every way, else." "Of course we'll let you go," said the captain, decisively, with an oblique eye upon the velvet gal- lant. "We'll be thy body-guard, forsooth; we'll attend thee to thy door." « Nay, let me go alone, I beg ! " " Why, would you risk more dangers .' " " I have not far to go. Pray, pray, follow me not ! Pray, let me be unknown to ye, good sirs ! Think, if my mishap this night were noised about, and my name known — think, if my father were to hear it ! " " Ay, true," said the captain. " Go alone, but on condition, if you see harm ahead, you turn back to us ; you must cry for help, too. And so we give our words of honour not to — " "Softly, softly. Master Meddler," broke in the handsome gentleman. "Be not so free with your betters' words of honour. I know not what hath allowed you to live so long after thrusting in upon this company — " But again he was checked by the man at his elbow. This was a broad-breasted man of medium height, who seemed, as well as his plain dark cloak would show, to be of solid, heavy build ; as for bis face, its 50 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. lower part was so covered by a thick, spade-shaped beard, and the upper part so concealed by the brim of a great Spanish hat, purposely pulled down over the eyes, that one could not have obtained a sufficient glimpse for future recognition. He spoke to his gay companion in a brief whisper, but his words had instant weight. " Tush ! 'tis not worth bloodshed," said the gay gentleman, having heard him. " Let the wench go ; what is one fawn among so many? But on condi- tion. I crave more of your acquaintance, Sir Sword- man ; we may come to a fight yet, with better reason ; so my friends and I will let the girl go hang, an you and your party come drink with us." "We are your men there," replied the captain, wanning up within, at such a happy issue ; " but the taverns are barricaded at this hour." " I know where the proper kn , ~k will open doors to us. 'Tis agreed, then. Wench, go your ways; good night ! " He moved aside to let her pass, and the girl, stepping from the doorway, with a single look of thanks to the captain, ran swiftly toward Cheapside. She was out of the range of the torchlight in a moment. As soon as her figure was invisible in the night, the gentleman in velvet left his companion, and, taking the captain fraternally by the arm, started toward Knightrider Street. a?c DISrUHBEJlS OF THE NIGHT. 51 Ravenshaw, yielding in spite of an inclination to stay and listen for any distant sign of alarm from the girl, strode mechanically along; he heard his own followers and the gentleman's friends coming close behind, and starting up conversations. Lighted by the two link-boys and the other torch-bearer, the party at length stopped before a tavern door in Thames Street. The handsome gallant knocked a certain number of times, and, while he waited for answer, the party huddled into a close group before the door. Every face was now in the torchlight, and the captain cast a glance over the little company. Suddenly a strange look came into his face. " What's this f " he said to the gentleman, quickly. "Where's your other friend — he with the hat pulled over his eyes .' " For answer, the gentleman gave a curious smile, showing white teeth; and his eyes sparkled mock- ingly. "Death and hell! Gods and devils!" cried the captain, roaring in earnest, and whipping out his sword. "He slunk back and followed the maid, did he > Ye'd trick me, would ye .' Now, by the belly of St. George — " At this point, though the velvet gallant had swiftly drawn in turn, the group having opened a clear space at the captain's first excla- mation, Ravenshaw broke off to another thought 52 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. " Nay, we'll go after that hound first ; the scent's warm yet ; and then we'll look to you. Come, lads of mine ! " He dashed through the group, and headed for Cheapside ; his four pupils and the two link-boys tarried not from following him. The other gentle- men looked to their leader for direction ; whereupon he, as the tavern door opened, put up his sword and, laughing quietly, led them into the house. " They'll be rare dogs an they catch Jemingham," quoth he. " The fools ! their noise would warn him even if they should chance upon his track." The captain and his companions found Bread Street and Cheapside black, silent of human sounds, and, wherever they carried their lights, empty of human forms. They traversed two or three of the side streets, and listened at the corners of others, but without result. Where, in this night-wrapped London, did the two objects of their search now draw breath .' If the girl had indeed not had far to go, she was probably safe ; and if she were safe the man's doings mattered little. So, and as the gallants were begin- ning to show signs of weariness, the inspiriting effect of their last wine having died out, the captain piloted them back to the tavern at whose door he had left his quarrel scarce begun. He found the tavern door barred ; and no amount D/STUKBERS OF THE NIGHT. 53 of knocking and shouting sufficed to open it. Tlie tired gallants were yawning, leaning against one another (they dared not lean against the tavern, lest something might be dropped upon them from an upper window), and talking of bed. Therefore the captain drew off to a safe distance from the tavern, and thus addressed his following: "Ye have had but a poor lesson in swaggering to-night, masters. To be true roaring boys, we should have forced a brawl on those gallants rather for the brawl's sake than for the girl's. To help the helpless hath nought to do with true swag- gering, save where it may be a pretext. But this lambkin looked so tender, I forgot myself, and be- haved discreetly, seeing her cause was best served that way. The essence of roaring is not in concern for the cause, but in putting down the enemy. If you be in the wrong, so much the greater your credit as a bully. And now, if we wait for those cozeners to come forth — " "Oh, let 'em come forth and be damned," said Master Clarington, sleepily. "I'm for bed. Light me to my lodging, boy. Who'll keep me company to Coleman Street ? " As the three other young gentlemen had, at the time, their city lodgings in that direction, they were quite ready to avail themselves of Master Claring- ton's initiative in yielding to the claims of fatigue. 54 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. The captain was not such a fool as to risk their favour by opposing their decision, seeing how their zest for adventure had oozed out of them. He therefore accompanied them northward through Bow T^ne with outward cheerfulness. On the way, he considered within himself whcthv-ir or not to fish for an invitation to a night's lodging, or for the loan of money to pay for a bed himself. He bethought him that man was fickle, particularly in the case of would-be daredevils who soon grew sleepy on their wine ; if he would retain the patronage of these four, he must not go too far upon it at first. He had too much experience to sacrifice to-morrow's pound for to-night's shilling. So, when he came to Cheap- side, where his companions should turn eastward, he stopped, and said : " I must wish ye good night here, gentlemen. You will be at the Windmill again to-morrow, may- hap ? " " What ? " said Master Maylands, carelessly. " Go you no farther our way ? Where lodge you, then ? " " Oh, I lodge out Newgate way," replied the cap- tain, vaguely. " A good night to ye all ! Ye'll find me at the Windmill after dinner. Merry dreams, lads! Faith, I shall be glad to get under cover; the wind is higher, methinks." A chorus of good nights answered him drowsily, and he was left in darkness, the link-boys going with DrSTURBBSS OF THE A'/Cl/T. 55 the four gentlemen, who hung upon one another's arms as they plodded unsteadily along. The captain trudged westward in Cheapside, in mechanical obedience to the suggestion pertaining to his lie. " I should better have got myself taken up of the watch," he mused, as he gathered his new cloak about him, and made himself small against the wind. "Then I should have lain warm in the Counter. That scholar is a lucky fellow. But that would have lost me the opinion of my four sparks. Well, it shall go hard but they continue bountiful. Cloak, doublet, and bonnet already — a good night's booty' 'Tis well I found 'em in the right degree of drink. As for that wench — I was an ass, I should have let those roysterers have their way of her; 'twould have served my grudge against the sex. But such a child — ! Hey I What fellow comes here with the lantern and the wide breeches.' An it be a con- stable. I'll vilify him, and be lodged in the Counter yet. How now, rascal ! — what, Moll, is it thou, up to thy vixen tricks again > " The newcomer, who now faced Ravenshaw and held up a lantern to see him the better, wore a man's doublet and hose, and a sword ; but a careful scrutiny of the bold features would have revealed to any one that they were those of a sturdy young woman, of the lower class. The daughter of Frith, 56 CAPTAIN RAVENSIIAW. the shoemaker of Aldersgatc, had yet to immortalise herself as Moil Cutpurse, but she had some time since run away from domestic service and taken to wearing men's clothes. "Good even, Bully Ravenshaw," quoth she, in a hoarse, vigorous voice. "Why do you walk the night, old roaring boy ? " " For want of a lodging, young roaring girl." " Is it so ? Look ye, then ; I'm abroad for the night, on matters of mine own. Here's my key; 'tis to the back yard gate of the empty house in Foster Lane, where the spirit walks. Dost fear ghosts ? " " Fear ghosts ? Girl, I make 'em ! " "Then you'll find in that yard a penthouse, wberein is a feather-bed upon boards. 'Tis a good bed — I stole it from a brewer's widow." And so the captain lodged that night in a coal- house, thankfully. CHAPTER III. MASTER JERNINGHAM's MADNESS. "ImulUHlwUlobula har; ltmttlif\te."-ntHHmuuraiuJ.ifMtnkiHl, Now it happened that while Captain Ravenshaw and his companions were speeding up Bread Street toward Cheapside, the Spanish-hatted gentleman of whom they were in quest was plod'-ing down Fri- day Street toward the tavern at whose door they had left his friends. When he arrived there, he gave a knock similar to that which had served to open the house to the . .dsome gallant of the double-pointed beard ; ami presently, after being inspected through a small grating in the door, he was admitted. " Is Sir Clement Ermsby above .' " he asked the sleepy menial who had let him in. " Yes, your worship. An't please you, he and his friends came in but a little while ago. They're in the Neptune room. A cold night, your worship." " How many of his friends f " "Three, sir. There were e'en five or six more with him outside, at first ; but they went their ways. Methinks there was some quarrel, but I know not." S? 58 CAPTAIN KAVBJVSUAtr. The gentleman pushed his hat back from his brow, and looked a trifle relieved, lie stood fur a moment with his eye on the servant, as if to sec that the man barred the door properly, and then he went ujvstairs to a room at the rear of the tavern. The tapestry of this chamber represented the sea, with the ocean god and a multitude of other marine figures. Around the fire sat the newcomer's friends, smoking pipes ; they greeted him with laughter. "Ho, hoi" cried the handsome gallant. "She 'scaped you, after all I The pinnace was too fleet ! " "I gained all I wished," said the broad-breasted gentleman, coolly, speaking in curt syllables. " I had no mind to close in combat. I did not even let her know I was giving chase. But I saw what port she made into ; I know where to seek her when the time is propitious." With a faint smile of triumph over his comrades, the gentleman, who had thrown off his plain cloak while speaking, stepped close to the fire, removed his gloves, and began to warm his fingers. He was of middle stature, thick-bodied, heavily bearded, of a brown complexion ; his expression of face was melan- choly, moody, dreamy ; as he gazed into the fire he seemed lost in his own thoughts. His momentary smile had brought a singularly sweet and noble light into his face; but that light had vanished with the smile. MASTEK JEKNINGHAM'S MADNESS. 59 "I must thank you, Krmsby, ad ill of yc," he said, after a short silence. " You drew tlic fellow away like the best of cozeners. How got you rid of him so soon ? " " Faith, by his taking note of your absence, and g\ic3sing what was afoot," replied the hantlsome gal- lant. " He's e'en looking for you now. A murrain on him I his ribs should have felt steel, but for thy fear of a brawl, Jerningham." " Thou'rt a fool, Ermsby," answered Jerningham, continuing to gaze with saturnine countenance into the fire ; " and my daring to call thee so tells how much I fear a fight for its own sake. How often must I put it to you in plain terms .' If I be found concerned in roystenng or rioting, I forfeit the coun- tenance of my pious kinsman, the bishop. With that I forfeit the further use of his money in our enterprise. Without his money, how are we to com- plete the fitting of our ship ? No ship, no voyage. No voyage, no possessing the fertile islands ; and so no fortune, and there's an end. Pish, man, shall we lose all for a sight of some unknown rascal's filthy blood .' Not I. You shall see me play the very Puritan till the day my ship lifts anchor for the Western seas." "You have played the Puritan to-night, sooth," said Ermsby. " To steal after a wench under cover of night, and find out iier house for your hidden 6o CAPTAIN RAVENSirAW. purposes in future, — there's the soul of Puritanism. Where does she live ? " " I'll still be puritanical, and keep that knowledge to myself," said Jemingham, with the least touch of a smile. " Nay, man, the secret is ours, too ! " protested Ermsby. "We helped you to it. Come, you had best tell ; that will put us on our honour to leave her all to you. If you don't, by my conscience, I'll hunt high and low till I find cut for myself, and then I won't acknowledge any right of yours to her. Tell us, and make us your abettors ; or tell us not, and make us your rivals." Jemingham was silent for a moment, while he motioned the attending servant to pour him out some wine ; then, evidently knowing his men, he replied : " She led me but a short chase ; which was well, as I had to go upon my toes — the sound of her steps was all I had to guide me. When the sound stopped, in Friday Street, I heard the creaking of a gate ; it meant she had gone into a back yard. I went on softly, feeling the walls with my hands, till I came to the gate ; and there I heard a key turning in a door. I had naught to do but find out what house the gate belonged to. 'Twas the house at the corner of Cheapside." "And Friday Street? Which side of Friday Street ? " " 'SlIK I.Kl) MK |Jl"T A SHOKT (.HA^^;' Pagte till MASTER JERmNGHAM-S MADNESS. 6l "The east side. Tis a goldsmith's shop. Does any one know what goldsmith dwells there .' " No one remembered. These were all gentlemen who, when they were not at sea, divided most of their time between the count y and the court ; at present they lodged toward t?:e Charing Cross end of the Strand, in a row of houses ooposite the river- side palaces of the great. But Jerningham himself lived with his kinsman, the bishop, in Winchester House, across the Thames. "Time enough to learn that, and win a score of goldsmith's daughters, and tire of 'era too ere the ship is fitted," said Ermsby, losing interest L the subject; whereupon the conversation shifted to the mat.er of the ship, then being repaired at Deptford From this they fell to dicing, -all but Jerning- ham, who sat looking steadily before him, as if he saw visions through the clouds of tobacco smoke he sent forth. Presently was heard the noise of pound- ing at the street door below. " 'Tis that rascal come back, ten to one ; he has given over hunting you," said Ermsby to Jerningham. Then be sure you open not, Timothy," said Jermngham, addressing the tavern drawer who was staying up to wait upon those privileged to use the house after closing hours. " No fear," replied Timothy. « They may ham- mer till they be dead, an they give not the right 62 CAPTAIN KAVENSHAW. knock. I'll e'en go look down from the front window, and see who 'tis." Ermsby went with him ; and presently returned with him, saying : " 'Tis our man ; and Timothy here knows him. It seems he is one Ravenshaw, a roaring captain. I've heard of the fellow ; he talks loud in taverns, and will fight any man for sixpence ; a kind of ranger of Tumbull Street — " " Nay," corrected Timothy ; " he is no counterfeit, as most of those rangers be. He roars, and brags, and looks fierce, as they do; but he was with Sir John Norris in Portugal and France, and he can use the rapier, or rapier and dagger, with any man that ever came out of Saviolo's school. I have seen him with the foils, in this very room, when he made all the conpany wonder. And 'tis well known what duels he has fought. One time, in Hogsdon fields — " " Oh, that is the man, is it ? " said Jemingham, cutting off the drawer's threatened torrent of remi- niscence. " Then so much the better he has grown tired of beating at the door. He has gone away, I trust. As ye love me, gentlemen, no scandals till the ship is armed, provisioned, manned, and ready every way for the tide that shall bear us down the Thames." " And look that you bring no scandal in your siege of this goldsmith's daughter," said Ermsby, jocularly. MASTEK JERN/NGIIAM'S MADNESS. 63 "Trust me for that," replied Jerningham. It was several weeks after this night, and the chilling frown of winter had given place to the smile of May, when, upon a sunny morning, Sir Clement Ermsby, followed by a young page, stepped from a Thames wherry at Winchester stairs to confer with Master Jerningham upon the last preparations for their voyage. They were to sail in three days. Jerningham was pacing the terrace, frowning upon the ground at his feet, his look more moody than ever, and with something distraught in it ; now and then he drew in his breath audibly between his lips, or allowed some restless movement of the hands to belie his customary self-control. " What a devil is it afflicts you, man ? " was Erms- by's greeting, while his page stood at a respectful distance, and began playing with two greyhounds that came bounding up. "This manner is some- thing new. I've seen it for a week in y^u. Ee- shrew me if I don't think an evil spirit . is crept mto you. What's the matter .' " "Nothing's the matter," said Jerningham, in a growling tone. "'Tis my humour." " 'Tis a humour there's no excuse for, then, on a day like this, and with such a prospect before one's eyes." As Sir Clement spoke, he looked over the balustrade to the Thames and the countless-gabled front of the spire-studded city. 64 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAm The Thames and London were fair to see then. The river was wider than it is now, and was com- paratively clean. Swans floated upon its surface, and it was lively with passenger craft, — sailboats,' rowboats, tilt-boats, and boats with wooden cabins, gaily decorated barges belonging to royalty and nobility. The Thames, with its nun.erous landing- stairs, was the principal highway of London. When the queen went from Whitehall to Greenwich, it was, of course, by this water thoroughfare. It was the more convenient way of transit between the city and Westminster, where the courts were held. It had but one bridge at London then,— the old London Bridge of the children's song, "London Bridge is falling down ; " the bridge that was a veritable street of houses, and which stood some distance east of where the present London Bridge stands. To many people the better way of crossing to Southwark, when they went to the playhouses or the bear- gardens, was by boat. Water-men were at every landing-place, soliciting custom. When at work, they often sang as they plied the oars. The rich, when they would amuse themselves upon the river in their handsome tilt-boats, took musicians with them. On a fine May day, in the reign of Elizabeth, when the little green waves sparkled in the sunshine, the Thames alone was a sight worth looking at from the terrace of Winchester House, which, as every- MASTER JERNJNCUAMS MADNESS. 6$ body knows, was on the Southwark side, west of the beautiful Church of St. Mary Overie (now St. Saviour's), and which thus commanded a fine view of river and city-front. Beginning at the far west, where the river came into sight after j.issing Westminster and Whitehall, its northern bank presented first the long row of great houses that came as far as to the Temple, — houses that were really town castles, with spacious gardens, whose river walls were broken by gates, whence were steps descending to the water. Nearer,' grew the stately trees of the Temple garden ; nearer yet, rose from the river's edge the frowning walls of the Bridewell, once a palace, and of Baynard's Castle. And here the eye was drawn up and back from the water-front, which henceforth abounded with wharves, by the huge bulk of St. Paul's, which stood amidst a multitude of ordinary buildings like a giant among pigmies, — the old St. Paul's, Gothic, with its square tower in the centre, its crosses crowning the ends and corners, its delicate pinnacles rising from its flying buttresses, its beautiful doorways and rose windows. Coming still eastward, the eye swept a great mass of gabled houses ascending in irregular tiers from the river, the sky-line broken by church towers and steeples innumerable. Directly opposite Winchester House, the river stairs that fell from the tall, narrow buildings were mainly for commercial 66 CAPTAIN JiAVENSllAW. uses. A little further east, the view was shut in by the close-packed houses on the bridge, so that one could not see the Tower, or the larger shipping off the wharves in the lower river. But this morning the sight was nothing to Master Jcrningham, whose only answer to his friend was to look the more harassed and woebegone. Ermsby suddenly took alarm. "How now.' Has anything ill befallen at Dept- ford .' " he asked. "No. All goes forward fast — too fast." And Jerningham sighed. " How too fast .' How can that be > Good God, man, have you lost heart for the voyage ? " "Never that. You know me better. But we shall soon be sailing, and the hours go, and yet I am no further with — oh, a plague on secrecy, 'tis that wench. There is no way under heaven I can even get speech of her." "What wench.'" inquired Ermsby, in whose thoughts there had been more than one wench since the reader first made his acquaintance. "What wench! Gods above, is there more than one.? — worth a man's lying awake at night to sigh for, I mean." " And is there one such, then ? Faith, an there be, I have not seen her of late." "Yes, you have. Scarce three months ago." "That's three age,, where women are concerned. Who IS this incomparable she ? " "That goldsmith's daughter -y„u remember the n^ht we chased her from Cheapside down Hread thet'll' rw,,"'"" ' ''"'^'=' *''h Ravenshaw the bully, and I followed to see where she lived ' " " Faith, I remember. A pretty little thing. And she has held you off all this time? Man, man, you must have blundered terribly! What plan of campaign have you employed against her'" " have not been able to pass words with her. I tell you She rarely goes forth from home at all. and when she does 'tis with both parents, and a woman, and a stout 'prentice or two. I have s ood m wait night after night, thinking she might try to run away again ; but she has not " "Why. you Rnow not your first letter in the study of how to woo citizens' womankind. Go to her father's shop while she is there, and contrive to have her wait upon you. Flattery, vows, and promises sound all the softer for being whispered over a counter." ^ "I have watched, and when I have been busy at the ship, my man Gregory has watched. But she never comes into the shop. She has a devil of shrewdness for a father; a rock-faced man. of few words, with eyes on everything. He already suspects rae; for now whenever ' go his shop 68 CAPTAIN RAVENSllAW. he comes from his business and stares at me as if he offered defiance." " A plague on these citizens. They dare outface gentlemen nowadays. They are so rich, and the law is on their side, curse 'em ! A goldsmith thinks himself as good as a lord." " This one has taught his very 'prentices to look big at me as I pass. And Gregory — he is a sly hound, as you know, and when 1 put him on his mettle for the conveyance of a letter to the girl's waiting-woman, he was ready to sell himself to the devil for the wit to accomplish it. But he could not ; and they have smelt a purpose in his doings, too. The last time he went near the shop, and stood trying to get the eye of some serving-maid at a window, two of the goldsmith's 'prentices came out and, pretending not to see him, ran hard against him and laid him sprawling in the street." "And he let them go with whole skins? Had he no dagger.'" "Of what use? They are very stout fellows, all in that shop. And they would have had only to cry 'Clubs,' and every 'prentice in Cheapside would have come to cudgel Gregory to death. They have too many privileges in the city, pox on •em ! " " You should have begun by making friends with the goldsmith openly, and so got access to his house. MASTEK JERNtNGIlAM'S MADNESS. fig Thc-n you could have cozened him when the time came." "But 'tis too late for that now. Besides, these citizens distrust a man the first moment, when they have wives and daughters. Oh, we have tried every way, both myself and Gregory. Gregory found a pot-boy. at the White Horse tavern, that knew one of the maids in the house, and we tried to pass a letter by means of those two. But the letter got into the father's hands, and the maid was cast off, and I'm glad I signed a false name. I know not if Mistress Millicent ever saw the letter." " Is Millicent her name .> " "Ay. She is the only child. Her father is Thomas Ethendge. the goldsmith, at the sign of the Golden Acorn, in Cheapside at the corner of Friday Street. And nothing more do I know of her, but that I am going mad for her. And now that I have opened all to you, in God's name tell me what I shall do. Though we sail in three days, I must have her in my arms for one sweet h.- r, at least, ere I go. Laugh if you will! Call it madness. ' 'Tis the worse, then, and the more needs quenchinE What shall I do .' " "Use a better messenger; one that can get the ear of the maid and yet 'scape the eye of the father ; one that can win her to a meeting with you. Such things are managed daily. Howsoever hedged by 70 CAPTAIN SAVhNSHAW. husbands, or fcncetl by fathers, the fair ones of the city arc still to be come at. Employ a go-between." " Have I not tried Gregory ? Where he has failed, how shall any other servant fare ? Not one of those at my command has a tithe of his wit. Nor has any of our sea-rogues." "Why, the look of being a gentleman's serving- man will damn any knave in the eye of a wary citizen, nowadays. And Gregory hath the face of a rascal besides. Employ none of that degree. As for our sea-rogues, we chose 'em witless, for our own advantage." "Troth, you might serve me in this matter, Ermsby. You have the wit ; and you should find good pastime in it." " Faith, not I. I know the taste of 'prentice's cudgel. I'll tell you a tale; 'twill warn you that, when love's path leads into the city, you'd best see it made sure and smooth ere you tread it yourself. One day as I was going to the play in Blackfriars, my glance fell upon as handsome a piece of female citizenship as you'll meet any day 'twixt Fleet Street and the Tower. She saw me looking, and looked in turn ; and I resolved to let the play go hang, and follow her. She had with her an old woman and a 'prentice boy, and her look seemed to advise me not to accost her in their presence. So I walked behind her, smiling my sweetest each time she turned her « MASTflK JEKNlNCItAM'S MAD f 'ESS. ;i head around. She led mo into a grocer's shop in Hucklcrsbury I could see by her manner there that she w nt home ; there was no husband in sight, the Av.<, ' unf k, ; i.y two 'prentices. Here she for: with strt tin 'vdr ,n up-stairs, and turned as if M' \vGi:W at oi.il i.i.on nic herself. Now, thougl : I, n.y liair-noss is soon to be assured ; and I was r.jiici, y nitlrii, (or each time I had seen her face she had lurnec' ,^v)re lovely. Sooth, the ripe- ness of those !"., — !" " Well, well, what happened ? " " I went but to open the matter with a Ci>urteoiis kiss on the cheek ; but the more luscious fruit hung too near, -o I stopped me at the lips instead, and stopped overlong there. She made pretence — I swear 'twas pretence — to push me away, and to be much angry and abused. But the zany 'prentices knew not this virtuous resistance was make-believe, and they ran at me as if I were some thief caught in the act. I met the first with a clout in the face, but they were stout knaves and made nothing of laying hands upon me. I shook them off, and then, being at the back of the shop, drew my sword to ensure my passage to the street. But that instant they raised the cry, 'Clubs!' and ran and got their own cudgels, and came menacing me again. While I was making play with my rapier, thinking to fright them off, all the 'prentices in Bucklersbury began to 72 CAPTAIN RAVENSIIAW. pour into the shop, shouting clubs and brandishing 'em at the same time. I saw there was naught to do but cut my way through by letting out the blood of any grocer's knave or 'pothecary's boy that should stand before me. But ere I had made two thrusts in earnest, my rapier was knocked from my hand by a club. A cloud of other clubs rained on my head, shoulders, and body. And so I cowered helpless, seeing nothing before me but the chance of being pounded to a jelly by the crowd." "And what miracle occurred?" " The wit of woman intervened. She that I had followed laid hold of some box or bag, and thrust her fingers in, and began flinging the contents by handfuls into the aii. It was ground pepper. In a moment every man Jack in the shop was sneezing as if there were a prize for it. Such a shaking, and bending forward of bodies, and holding of noses, was never seen elsewhere. Every fellow was taken with a sneezing fit that lasted minutes, for the woman still threw the pepper about, regardless of the work it had done. Limp and half-blind as every rascal was, and busied with each new spasm coming on, they paid no more heed to me ; and so, sneezing like the rest, I pushed through unregarded to the street. I fled down Walbrook, and came not to an end of sneezing till I had taken boat at Dowgate wharf. I went home, then, and put my bruises to bed ; and MASTER JERNINGHAM'S MADNESS. 73 I know not how many clays it was till 1 had done aching. Be thankful thou hast not fared in the goldsmith's shop e'en worse than I fared in the grocer's; for there is no pepper kept in goldsmith's shops." " I know not then what kind of emissary to send. As you say, a serving-man is too easily seen through. A gentleman will not risk the cudgel. I know a lawyer, a beggarly knave eager for any scrt of questionable transaction." "Nay, he'll make a botch of it, as lawyers do of everything they set their hands to." " How if I tried a woman >. 'Tis often done, I believe. As thieves are set to catch thieves, so set a woman — " "Ay, women have zest for the business ; especially the tainted ones — they joy to infect their sisters whose purity they secretly envy. They that have spots take comfort in company, as misery doth. Yet they will serve you ill ; for they ever bring entanglement on those they weave their plots for, as well as on those they weave against. City hus- bands and fathers have grown wiser, too ; they've learned to look for love-plots in their women's fellowship with other women. Unless you'd lisk iome chance of failure with this maid—" " By God, that I will not I I must have a sure messenger." 74 CAPTAIN KAVENSIIAW. " I would mine own page yonder had the wit, that I might lend him. But when I choose a servant, 'tis rather for lack of wit in him ; else he might take it into his head to outwit his master. My boy there serves well enough to carry sonnets to court ladies ; but he would never do for your business. You say this goldsmith is watchful. Therefore, you want a man the most unlike the common go-betweens in such affairs ; a man that looks the last in the world to be chosen as love's ambassador." "Some venerable Puritan, perchance," said Jer- ningham, with the slight irony of one not quite convinced. "Ay, if one could be found needy enough to want your money; but that's hopeless. We must seek a poor devil that hath a good wit and can act a part. If we had one such in our ship's com- pany — What, Gregory ! Have you been listening, knave .' " Sir Clement's break was caused by his per- ceiving, upon suddenly turning around, that Jer- ninghani's man stood near, with a suspicious cock of the head. This Gregory was just the fellow to steal up without noise ; he had long cultivated the silent footfall. He was a lean man of about thirty-five years; a little bent, and wnh a long neck, so that his head always seemed hastening MASTE/i JERNINGIIAM-S MADNESS. 75 before his body, which could never catch nj). He had a small, sharp face, of an ashen complexion, and with fishy, greenish eyes; his expression was that of cunning' cloaked in calm impudence. "No offence, sirs," said he, glibly, stepping forward with bowed head. " I couldn't help hear- ing a little. If I may say so, sirs, my master needn't yet look abroad for one to do his business. I think I have a shift or two still, if i may 1^ so bold." " You may not be so bold, Gregory," said Jerning- ham. " Disguises are well enough in Spanish laks and stage plays; but you'd be caught, and all brought home to me and the bishop's ears. He could stay our ship at the last hour, an he had a mind to. Go to ; and do and speak when you are bid, not else." The serving-man stepped back, looking humiliated. "He's already green with jealousy of the man you shall employ," said Ermsby, with unkind amuse ment at the knave's discomfiture, "Ay, he's touchy that way. A faithful dog — and bound to be so, for I know a thing or two that would hang him. But to reach this maid, I must have another Mercury. Where shall I find this witty poor rascal that is to cozen old Argus, her father, and get mc access to her?" "Why, but fur going to Dcpiford, wc might seek ""-|KI 76 CAl'TAJN KA VF.NSHA W. him forthwith. The hour before dinner is the right time. But — " "Then let us seelc. There's no need we go to Deptford to-day. We cannot haste matters at the ship; all's in good hands there. In God's name, come find me this fellow." "Bid Gregory hail a boat, then," said Ermsby ; and, after the servant had been sent ahead to the stairs on .hat errand, and Ermsby had motioned his own page to go thither, he continued: "We shall go to f'aul's first, where we got so many of our ihipmates; there we shall have choice of half the penniless companions, starved wits, masterless men, cast soldiers, skulking debtors, and serviceable rascals in London. Of a surety, you can buy any service there; there's truth in what the plays The two gentlemen, attended by Gregory and the page, were soon embarked in a wherry whose prow the watermen headed against the current, the destination being some distance up-stream on the opposite bank. " What of Meg Falkncr .' " Ermsby said, suddenly, in a tone too low for the servants to hear. "Are you rid of her yet ? " Jernirtgham's brow turned darker by a shade. •That were as groat a puzzle as to reach tl goldsmith's wench," he replied. " I would have 1 WhWi^^AWv^ MASTER JERNINCIIAM-S MADNESS. 'jy married her to Gregory ; it seemed no mean fate for a yeoman's daughter that had buried a brat; but she'd have none of that. I durs'n't turn her out lest she make a noise that might come to the bishop. I'm lucky she hath kept quiet, as it is." " She lives still at your country-house } " " Ay ; where else to lodge her .' Rotten as it is, it does for that ; and that is the only use it hath done me this many a year. There's a cow or two for her maintaining, and some hens. And for company, there's old Jeremy that's half-blind. He can quiet her fears o' nights, when the timbers creak and she thinks it is a ghost walking." "And what of the house when you are away on the voyage 1 " " Troth, all may out then, I care not ! Let 'em sell the estate for the debts on it ; they'll find them- selves losers, I trow. And Mistress Meg will be left in the lurch, poor white-face ' As for me, when tlie ship sails, I shall be quit of that plague." "Ay, but you'll be quit of this goldsmith's wench, too. Will your ' one sweet hour ' or so suffice, think you 1 " The faintest smile came into Jerningham's face. " I will not prophesy," said he, softly. " Hut, as you well know, when we come to that island, if all goes well, I shall be in some sort a king there." "Certainly ; but what of that, touching this wench .' " It 78 CAPTAIN KAVBNSirAW. " Why, will not the island have room for a queen as well ? " " Oho ! " quoth Ermsby, after a short silence. " So the wind blows that way in thy dreams ! " Presently they landed at Paul's Wharf, climbed to Tiumes Street, which was noisy with carts and drays, and went on up a narrow thoroughfare toward the great church. Hi CHAPTER IV. THE ART OF ROARING. "Damn me, I will be a roarer, or'l sluU cos! me a UU." -^mnj,/^ Laditi. On the February morning when he rose from bed in the coal-house attached to the haunted dwelling in Foster Lane, Captain Ravenshaw waited about the yard for Moll Frith to return from her excursion of the night. When she appeared, he gave her back the key to the gate, and borrowed two angels from her. Armed with these, he bade her repent of her sins, and hastened to Cheapside, turning eastward with the purpose of finding out how and where his new friend, the scholar, fared in the hands of the law. Cheapside, which was in a double sense the Broad- way of Klizabcthan London, was already thronged with people going about their business, the shops and booths of the merchants being open, and the shopmen and 'prentices crying out their wares with the customary "What d'ye lack?" At the great conduit, the captain pushed his way through the crowd of jesting and quarrelling water-carriers who were filling their vessels, and washed his hands and 79 "mm // 8o CAPTA/JV RAVENSHAW. face. Looking about for a means of drying himself, while the water dripped from his features, he espied a woman with a pitcher, to whom the uncouth water- carriers would not give place. The captain knocked several of them aside, gallantly took the woman by '>e hand, led her to the fountain, and enabled her to fill her pitcher. While she was doing this, he, with courteous gestures, took her kerchief from her head and dried himself therewith; after which he returned it with a bow so polite that, between her amazement and her sense of flattery, she could not find it in her to say a word against the proceetling. Going on his way refreshed, the captain suddenly n.et Master Holyday, who looked as unconcerned as if he had never been near a prison in his life. " What, lad, did not the w^ch take thee, then > " " Yes, faith, and kept me all night in a cage, where I think I have turned foul inside with the smeli of stale tobacco smoke. I am come but now from the justice's hall." " Man, you've had a quick journey of it. By this light, you must have found money in those new clothes, and tickled the palm of a constable." " No ; the justice might have sent me back to the stinking hole, for all the money I had to give any- body. When he asked me my name, I bethought me to reply, < Sir Ralph Holyday ; ' which was no more than my right at Cambridge, when I became THE ART Of ROAKISG. 8l a graduate th" broke in Master Clarington. "Fez is not on the seacoast." "Most certainly it is," said the scholar, imper- turbably. " 'Tis not. I had an uncle, a merchant adven- turer, was there once. He had to journey far inland." "Oh, ay," said Holyday, a little staggered; "the PEAiV/LESS COMPAA-IONS. 97 city of Fez is inland, but the country borders on the sea. 'Twas that I meant." " Nay, you spoke of the harbour ; you must have meant the city." " Tush, tush ! " put in Ravcnshaw, an.xious to keep up the scholar's credit. " He meant the country ; a fool could see that." " Ay, truly," said Master Maylands, " a fool ; but none else." " I'll thank you for better manners," said Raven- shaw, sharply. " Manners, thou braggart ! " cried Maylands, seiz- ing his opportunity. " Thou sponge, thou receptacle of cast clothing ! Talk you of manners t " "What! — what ! — what ! — what ! " was all the answer the amazed captain could make for the moment. "Ay, manners, thou base, scurvy knave; thou houseless parasite, thou resuscitated starveling! — thou and thy hungry scholar ! " put in Master Hawes. " Oho ! 'Tis thus .' Ye think to try my swag- gering lessons against me .' " said the captain, spring- ing to his feet. "Pish! You are no better than Cutting Tom," retorted Maylands. Ravenshaw's wrath knew no bounds. The four rebellious pupils and providers were on their feet, defiant and impudent. 98 CAPTAIN KAVENSHAW. "You'd raise your weak breath against me, would ye ? And you'd finger your sword-hilts, would ye ? " he roared. " Hy this hand, ye sh '1 draw them, too ! Draw, and fend your numbskulls ainst the whacks I'll give 'cm ! Draw, and save you. puny shoulders ! I scorn to use good steel against ye, dunces, lispers, puppies ! I'll rout ye with a spit ! " They had drawn swords at his word, thinking he wouki wield his rapier against them. But, as it was, they had an ill time enough to defend themselves against the spit he had seized from the fireplace. Nimbly he knocked aside their blades, violently he charged among them, swiftly he laid about him on pates and bodies; so that in small time they fled, appalled and panic-stricken, not only from the room, but down the stairs. The captain did not take the trouble to follow them beyond the doorsill of the room. "Hang them, bubbles! " quoth he. "They shall come on their knees and lick my shoes, ere I'll take 'em back to favour again." But the scholar philosophically shrugged his shoulders. To make matters worse, as tlie two were about to leave the tavern, they were called upon to pay the score. Ravenshaw said the young gentlemen would pay, as usual. " Nay," said the hostes.s, " they went away cursing Pf:xA7LEss coMr.ix/OiVs. 99 my tavern, and saying they would never come near it again. 'Twas you ordered, and I look to you to pay. Tls bad enough an you drive good customers from my house, and give it a bad name with your swaggering." "Peace, peace, sweetheart. We have no money to pay ; there's not a groat between us." "Then you have clothes to pawn. I'll have my money, or I'll enter an action. So look to't, or, by this light, ye'll find yourselves in prison, I swear to ye ! " The two unfortunates fled from her tongue, down the Old Jewry. It rains not but it pours ; and when they reached their lodgings in St. Lawrence Lane they were confronted by the woman of the house, whose distrust had been brought to a head by their absence the previous night. She must have her money ; let them go less bravely dad, and pay their honest debts, else they had best beware of sheriff's officers. When they were alone in their room, Holyday was for selling their fine clothes. " Never, never ! " said Ravenshaw. " If we cannot make our fortunes in fine clothes, how shall we do it in rags.' Though we go penniless, while we look gallant we shall be relied ujion. Some enterprise will fall our way." The next morning they rose before their hostess, CAPTAIN KAVliNSllAW. and took leave of her house without troubling her with farewells They found new quarters in a shoe- maker's house in St. Martin'sle-Grand, and avoided their old haunts for fear of arrest. The question of meals now grew difficult. Raven- shaw had become so well known that possible adversaries at the gaming-tables shunned him. What little credit he could still compass at ordinaries and taverns soon prepared the way for new threats of arrest. Sometimes the two companions contrived to eat once a day, sometimes once in two days. After a time, the captain agreed that Holyday might barter his clotiies. The scholar speedily appeared in a suit of modest black, as if he were his gallant companion's secretary ; and for awhile the two feasted daily. But anon they were penniless again, and went hungry. The captain swore he would not part with his fine raiment ; though he should starve, it would be as a swaggering gallant still. No Lent was ever bettc kept than was the latter part of that year's Lent (though to no profit of the fishmongers) by those two undor i men. Their cheeks became hollow, their bellies sank inward, they could feel their ribs when they passed their hands over their chests. They went feverish and gaunt, with parched mouths and griped stomachs. As hunger gnawed him, and the fear of sheriff's officers beset him at every comer, and hope grew PKNNI1.£SS COMPANIOA'S. loi feeble within him, the captain became subject to alternations of grim resignation and futile rage. The scholar starved with serenity, as became a master of the liberal arts, being visited in his sleep by dreams of glorious banquets, upon which in his waking hours he made sonnets. In May the patience of the shoemaker in St. Mar- tin's-le-Grand was exhausted, and the two penniless men had other lodgings to seek. They spent much of their time now in St. Paul's Church. Here employment was like to offer, and here was comparative safety from arrest, certain parts of the church being held sanctuary for debtors. To St. Paul's, therefore, they went on the morning that found them again roofless ; keeping a lookout on the way thither for any sheriff's men who might with warrant be in quest of them. It was fortunate that none waylaid them, for the captain was in such mood that he would have gone near slaying any that had. Neither he nor Holyday had eaten for two days. They took their station against a .jillar in the mid- dle aisle of the great church, and watched with sharp eyes the many-coloured crowd of men, of every grade from silken gallants to burden-bearing porters, that passed up and down before them, making a ceaseless noise of footfalls and voices, and sometimes giving the pair scant room for their famished bodies. CAPTAIN KAVENSHAW. The St. Paul's of that time was larger than the present cathedral. It covered three and a half acres, and was proportionately lofty. Thanks to its great doors and wide aisles, it afforded a short way through for those foot-goers in whose route it lay, — porters, labourers, and citizens going about their business. But its wide aisles served better still as a covered lounging-place for those on whose hands time hung heavy, — gentlemen of fashion, men who lived by their wits, fellows who sought service, and the like. These were the true " Paul's walkers." It was a meeting-place, too, for those "'ho had miscellaneous business to transact ; a great resort for the exchange of news, in a day when newspapers did not exist. Certain of the huge pillars supporting the groined arches of the roof were used to post advertising bills upon. The services, in which a verj- fine organ and other instruments were employed, were usually held in the choir only, and the crowd in the nave and transepts did not much disturb itself on account of them. The time of most resort was the hour before the midday dinner ; and it was then that Ravenshaw and Holyday took their stand before the pillar on this May morning. " There walks a poet that hath found a patron," said the scholar. " Yet 'tis ten to one the verses he is showing are no better than these sonnets in my breeches pocket here." PENA/LliSS COAf/'AA'/OXS 103 " If you had a capon's leg or two in your breeches pocket it were more to the purix.sc," replied the captain. "Troth, my sonnets are full of capon's legs and all other things good to eat," sighed Holyday. •• I've conceived rare dishes lately; I have writ of nothing else." " If we could but eat the dishes out of thy son- nets! " muttered Ravenshaw. " How can you write sonnets while you arc hungry .' " "Why, your born poet finds discomfort a spur There was the prophet Jonas writ a sonnet in the whale's belly." " Faith, I'd rather undertake to write one with a whale in my belly! I feel room for a whale there. Who the devil comes here .' " It was none other than Mas" .- Maylands, and fol- lowmg him were Clarington, . ;a-.ncey, and Hawes the four being attended by a footman and a page! These gallants, in coming down the aisle, had cspFed the captain before he had seen them. They had stopped and held a brief colloquy. " Pish ! who's afeard > " Maylands had said. " Pie won't fight in the church." "And if he will," said Glaring. oi„ •■ we can 'scape in the crowd." " Hang him, hedgehog ! " said Dauncey. " I think the spirit has gone out of him, by his looks." 104 C ATTAIN KAl-HNSIlAn: "It makes mc boil," said Ilawos, "to sec the dog dressed out lilic a gcntlcnian in cliitlits of our giving." The gallants advanced, therefore, looking as super- cilious and impudent as they could. " God save you, dog of war ! " said Maylands. " God lose you, pup of peace ! " replied the captain. " Faith, I had thought 'twas a warm day," said Maylands, "but for seeing you wear a heavy cloak. Or is it that you durs'n't leave it home, lest it be seized in pawn for debt V " You are merry," quoth the captain, briefly ; for the gallant had mentioned the true reason. " It shows your regard for us," put in Hawoi;, "that you always wear our clothes, to avoid their being seized." " A finger-snap for your clothes ! " said the captain, his ire engendered by their daring to make so free of speech with him. "Nay, you value 'em more than that," said Clar- ington. "They're all you have." " Is it so .' " said the captain. " Ay," said Maylands, " you must needs wear our livery still, whether you will or no." " Your livery, curse ye ! " cried Ravenshaw, ob- serving that some in the crowd had halted to see what game of banter was going on. "Why, mon- keys, I've worn these clothes about the town in hope riCA-x/u:.ss coj/r.LWuxs. 105 of meeting yc, that I might give 'eiii back. SiiKr I did yc the honour to take your gifts, I've heard things of yc that make it a shame to have known ye. I've sought ye everywhere ; but the fear of a beating has kept ye indoors. Now that I meet ye, for CkI's sake take back your gifts, and clear me of all behold- ing to such vermin! Your cloak, say you.' Yes, lap-dog, there's for you. I thank God I'm free of it!" Acting on the impulse which had come with the inspiration for his retort, and wrought up beyoiul all thought of expediency, he had flung the cloak in the astonished gallant's face. " This bonnet will bet- ter fit an empty head," and he tossed his cap to Clarington. " Here's a doublet, too ; I've Ions aciicd to be rid of it," he cried, divesting himself of that garment as fast as he could, to hurl it at the Iicad of Master Hawcs. "This ruff has choked me of late ; I pray you, hang yoursell with it ; there'll bo an ass the less. The shoes arc yours, cone)- ; take 'em, and walk to hell in 'cm ! " He threw them one after another at their former owner, and began draw- ing off his stockings. " I'll be more careful in accejjt- ing gifts hereafter ; a gift is a tie, and a man should make no tie with those he may come to hear foul re- ports of. Your stockings, sir ! The breeches, — nay, I must take them off at home, and send 'em to you later ; them and the shirt, and sundry linen and such, that are with the laundress. lake these gloves. io6 CAPTAlff KAVF.NSIfAW. though, and this handkerchief; and )(iu your hanjjer and scabbard, and tlic rest. Tal "4 C/l P TA IN NA V HASH A W. You are fed now, but will you be fed then ? Troth, I ne'er knew a craviiifj stomach to have nice scruples." "Oh, faith, I know that want is an evil coun- sellor." " Evil c- not, it speaks jo loud as to silence all others. Is it not so .' Conic, captain, be not a fool. If I mean no harm to llic gi , 'tis no harm in your bringing us together." " But if you do mean harm .' " " Can 1 do her harm against her will .? She shall name the place and time of meeting. Is it for grown men to be qualmish merely because a petticoat is concerned .' " " Petticoats to the devil ! I owe no kindness to women, I say. 'Twas a woman's wiles upon my father robbed me of my patrimony. 'Twas a woman's treason to my love poisoned my heart, deprived me of my friend, changed the course of my fortunes, and made me what I am. Calamities fall upon the whole she-tribe, say I ! " " Why, then, if at the worst chance I should be the cause of harm to this one, 'twould be so much amends to you on the part of the sex." A sudden baleful light gleamed in Ravenshavv's eyes. " I?y God, that were some revenge ! " he mut- tered. " Who is the woman .' " " A goldsmith's daughter, in Cheapsidc." REl-ENCE UPON WOMA^KTXD. u; "A goldsmith's daughter -some vain minv, no doubt ; deserving no better fate, and desiring no better. As for the goldsmith - they are cheaters all, these citizens that keep shops; overchargcrs, fals.fiors of accounts ; they rob by ways that are most despicable because least dangerous. And they call me knave! And their women, that flaunt in silks and jewels bought with their cheatings — 'twas such a woman cozened me ! 'Twas such that made a rogue of me; if I were e'en to pay back my roguery upon such! -I'll do it! By my faith. Ml do It ! I'll be your knave in this, your rascal ; I take It, a knave is better than a starveling, a rascal is choicer company than a famished man. And 'tis time I settled scores with the race of wenches ! Lets hear the full business." Jerningham set forth exactly the situation. He laid stress on his requirement that the meeting should occur within the next two days. But he said nothing of the projected voyage; nor did he mention the circumstances in which he had first seen the girl. When he told her name and abode, he looked for any possible sign of recognition on the captain's part. But none came; Ravenshaw had never learned who was the heroine of that February night s incident. VVhen Jcminsham took his departure, the captain strode over to where Holyday awaited him. llO CAt'TAlX RAVEiXSUA W. " Rogue's work," said Ravenshaw ; " but a rogue am I, and there's an end. I must get access to a rich man's house, and to the private ear of a wench ; and move her to meet secretly a gentleman she knows not ; and all witnin two days. How is it to be done ? " " Is the rich man a gentleman — of the true gentry, I mean — or is he a citizen here, a man o' trade?" queried liolyday. " If a man of trade, the way to his house, or his anything, is to make him think there's money to be got out of you." " He is a goldsmith in Cheapside." "Why, then, let me see. There is a goldsmith lives there, somewhere, knows my father. They were friends together in their youth, in Kent. I haven't met him since I was a small lad ; but I might go to him as straight from my father ; and then introduce you as a country gentleman ; and so he might be got "^o commend you to the goldsmith you seek." " There's no time for roundabout ways. Yet your father's friend may serve us one way or another. What's his i.ame ? " "Thomas Etheridge. As I remember, my father — " " What .' Why, death of my life ! 'tis my very goldsmith ; the one whose daughter I must have speech with. Kaith, here's a miracle to help us — - RF.VENGF. l-rO,V IVOilAXKIXD. 117 Of the devil's working, no doubt. This Kthcridgc knows not you are at odds with your father ? " " "'Tis hardly possible he should. I have never sought him since I came to town. He never would go back to Kent, and so he could not see my father. He has an elder brother lives near my father ; but 'twixt that brother and the goldsmith there wis an old quarrel, which kei^t the goldsmith from coming to visit our part of the country ; 'twould keep the brothers from communicating, as well." "Have you means of assuring him you are your father's son > Can he doubt .> " "He would believe me for my likeness to my mother. He knew her." "Then you shall carry him your father's good words this hour; and you shall commend me to him as — but I must change my looks first. I'll to the barber's, and cast my beard, all but a small wit-tuft under the lip; and have my moustaches pomred toward the sky. This goldsmith may have seen Roaring Ravenshaw in his time; Ml be another man then." "But the daughter — it must be managed so I shall not have to meet her — or any women o' the family." "Oh, the devil, man ( if you be not introduced to the ladies, how shall your mere friend be .» But st.iy • at best, will the friend be ? These citizens are wary Il» CAPTAIN RAVENSIIAIV. with Ihoir hospitality. The son of your father tnight be invited to the tabic, the son's friend bowed out with a cool ' God be wi' yc, sir ! ' 'Tis all too round- about still. Mody o' Jupiter, I have it ! He hath not seen you since you were a lad, say you ? " " Not sii cc a day my water-spaniel bit him in the calf o' the leg, the last time he came to see ray father. I wis twelve years old or so." " Good. I shall remember the water-spaniel ; and as we go to the barber's, you shall tell mc other things I may recall to his mind; things none but you and your father could have known." " Certainly ; ^ jt how shall these serve you .> " " Why, I have neither letters nor likeness, to bear out my word. But the barber shall make me look the right age; and these old remembrances, with some further knowledge of m.riterj at your home, and my assurance, — all these shall make me pass with Master Ktheridge as Ralph Holyday, son of his old friend ; and you need take no hand in the business — that is, if you'll allow this." " With all my heart," said Holyday, giad to escape the risk of meeting women. CHAPTI'R VII. MISTRESS MILMCENT. - 'it II ,„.wam„H oJllogsJcn. The house of Th.mas Etheridge, goldsmith, was near facng the great gilt cross in Cheapside, the rniages around whose base - especially that of the y.rg,„_were chronically in a state of more or less defacement. A few doors east of Master JCther- "dgos. and directly opposite the cross, was the western end of Goldsmith's Row. described by Stow as « the most beautiful frame of fair houses and shops hat be wuhm the walls of London, or elsewhere in and rt 'V""'"''' °' " ''" '"^ dwelling-houses and fourteen shops, all in one frame, uniformly built our stones high, beautified toward the street with the Goldsmuhs- arms and the likeness of woodmen • ■ . ndmg on monstrous beasts, all . . . cast in lead, richly pamted over and gilt " Master Etheridge's house, thrusting out an iron arm from wh.ch hung a blue-painted square board «.th a great gilt ueom, was quite as tall and "fair" 119 CAl'TAIN KAVr.NSIIAW. as any of the ten in the ncighlMUiring " frame." It supper stories were bright with the many small panes of wide projecting winduws. The shop, whose front was usually open to the street by day, occupied the full width, and a good part of the depth, of the ground floor. Behind the shop was a "gallery" or passage, with a private entrance from the side street, and with a stairway ; beyond this passage was tiie kitchen ; and over that, the dining-room, which looked down upon a back yard that was really a small garden. Upon the low plastered ceiling of the dining-room was moulded a curious design of golden acorns. The walls were hung with tapestry representing a chase of deer. The floor was covered with rushes, which crackled under the feet of the boys that waited upon the family at supper. Captain Ravenshaw, with face clean-shaven all but for the skilfully up-turned moustaches and the tiny lip-tuft, leaned back in his carven chair after a com- forting draught of his host's canary, drew his foot away from the dog that was pretending to mistake it for a bone under the table, and thought how lucky were those who supped every day at the board of Thomas Etheridge. "Yes," said Master Etheridge, who was a man square -faced, square-bodied, hard-eyed, bard- v'oiced, looking and sounding as if he should deal rather in At/STKI SS .\tll.LICi:.\'T. \2\ iron than in llio suftcr, siiiinicr nict.il, a nun wiili a shrewd mouth and a keen ylante; bnt jnst now, (or onic, a little mellowed by the recollections ol yoiilii which his visitor had stirred ; "yonr father was ever a man to have his will or raise a storm else. He led your poor mother many a mad dante. He thankful all husbands are not as obstinate as Frank Holy day, Jane." Jane, the goldsmith's wife, looke-d as if she conld tell a tale or two of husband's obstinacy, that would match any to be told of the elder Holyday ; but she sweetly refrained. She was a plump, handsome woman, who filled her velvet bodice and white stom- acher to the utmost on the safe side of bursting; she was the complete housewife, precise about the proper starching of the ruffs and collars, nice in her dress, of an even temper, choosing serenity rather than supremacy. So she merely beamed the more placidly upm the visitor, and said : " I warrant this young gentleman will not cojjy liis father in that. His looks show the making of a kind husband. T wish you joy. Master Holyday." For the pretended Holyday had told the gold- smith in the shop that he was about to marry a young lady of Kent, wherefore he wished [jresently to buy plate and jewelry. This news had turned the cool reception of an uninvited caller into the cordial welcome of a possible customer. And, as it IM CAPTAIN KAVENSIIAW. was a jji'arantei; against liis wooing the daiiKhtcr of the house, for whom a man of the I lolydays' nioilci- ate estate was no acceptable suitor, it had removed the paternal objection to his presence in the family drtle. Ilence the goldsmith had honoured the claims of hospitality, and invited his old friend's su|>- poscd son to supper. On being introduced to the ladies, Ravcnshaw had promptly recognised the maid of that l-"ebruary night. On her part, his voice had seemed to touch her memory distinctly, but the transformation wrought by the razor had puzzled her as to his face. At %\\^ per, sitting opposite him in silence, she had listened alertly while he had continued deluding her father with anecdotes of the elder Holyday ; and she had shyly scrutinised his face. He had covertly noticed this. No doubt she was racking her brain in efforts to identify him. Why not enlighten her.' The knowledge that he was in the secret of her attempted flight vould give him a power over her. So he had said, to her father : "Oh, pardon my forgetting, sir. I was wrong when I told you I had not been in London except in passing to Cambridge and back. I was here over night last February." At this he had brought his eyes to bear full on Mistress Millicent. " I was in this neighbourhood, too. But the hour was so late, I durs'n't intrude on you. Indeed, no one was abroad M/sTKess Ar//././c/:A'r. 123 ill tlic streets but royslcrcrs, and brawlers, ami run- away 8, and such." The ffrVa face had turned of a cohiur wi.li her lips, her eyes had Hashed complete recognition, had met his for an instant in a startled pica for silence, then had hid themselves under their long lashes. Ravcnshaw, feeling as if he had struck a blow at something helpless, had ^danced (|uickly at her parents. They had been busy with their knives and spoons, fingers and napkins, and had observed noth- ing. Curiosity and fear, the captain had thought, would now make her grant, if not seek, a word vilh him alone. After that, he had not rested his look upon her ngrin iluring the supper. He had met her father's eyes readily enough, and her mother's, and those of the ladies' woman, the head shopman, and the other dependents at the lower part of the table, but not hers. For, of a truth, she was not the vain and affected hussy, or the stiff and supercilious minx, or the bold and impudent hoyden, he had expected tc find as the only daughter of a purse-proud citizen. Kvery move- ment of her slim young figure, encased in a close blue taffeta gown, seemed tc e.vpress innocence and gentleness ; her oval face, .ich in the colour of blushes, lips, and blue eyes, had a most ineffable softness ; even her hair, brown and fine, parting 124 CAPTAIN RAVENSIIAW. across her brow without too many waves, gave an impression of grace and tenderness ; and over Iier countenance, whose natural habit was one of Icindly cheerfulness, there now lay something plaintive. Ravenshaw found it not easy to face her, knowing for what purpose he had lied himself into her presence. And now, the trenchers being nearly bare, and mouths having more leisure to talk than the vora- cious custom of that day allowed them during meals. Master Etheridge was minded for further reminis- cence of his old friend. "Ay, ay, many's the quart of wine we've drunk together after supper, in my rash days. Your father would have all drink that were about him. Even his dogs he would make drunk. A great man for dogs. I mind me of a prick-eared cur he had, would drink sack with the best of us, and sit on a stool at table with us, and howl with us when we sang our ballads. And there was a terrier, too ; I have my reason not to forget him." " Yes," quoth Ravenshaw ; " he bit you in the calf o' the leg the last time you were at our house." " Nay, that was a water-spaniel did that," said the goldsmith. Ravenshaw remembered now that Holyday had said a water-spaniel ; but he thought it would appear the more n.-tural if he should seem to be in this M/STKF.SS MIl.LICF.NT. 125 point tricked by memory, as. in some detail or oilier, people often are. " Nay," said he, " I am sure it was the terrier ; I remember it as well — " "Oh, no, never, never the terrier; 'twas the water-spaniel, on my word. Why, I never see the spaniels diving for ducks in the ponds at Islington but I think of it." But Ravenshaw feigned to be unconvinced, and when, after some further talk, he yielded the point, it was as if merely out of courtesy. When the supper party rose from the table, the captain was for a pipe of tobacco, which he forthwith produced. But Master Etheridge said he was no tobacconist, and that the smoke made his lady ill. Ravenshaw replied that, by their leave, he would then take a turn or two, and a whiff or two, in the garden, whose beauty, observed by him from the window, invited closer acquaintance. Etheridge liked to hear his garden commended before his wife, as its implied sufficiency saved him the expense of a garden with a summer-house in the suburbs, which many a citizeness compelled her husband to possess. So he went cheerfully ahead to show the way. " When you return, you shall find us in the with- drawing room, across the passage," said Mistress Etheridge. Ravenshaw bowed to the l.idies ; in doing which, 126 CAPTAIN RAVENSIIAIV. he met Mistress Millicent's eyes with a look that said as plainly as spoken words : " J have something for your ears." This intimation, in view of the cir- cumstances of their former meeting, could not fail to engage her interest. The goldsmith led him down-stairs to the ground floor passage, whence a door opened to a narro°w way running past the rear of the house to the little gar- den. This comprised a square of green turf, in the centre of which was an apple-tree, now in blossom ; a walk led to and around this tree, and another walk enclosed the whole square. This latter walk was flanked on the outer side by rosemary and various shrubbery, banks of pinks and other flowers ; vvhich screened the garden walls except where a gate gave entrance from Friday Street. The farther side of the garden was sheltered by a small arbour of vines ; beneath this was a bench, and another bench stood out upon the turf, so that one might sit either in sun or in shade. It was still daylight ; the regular household supper was taken early in those times, and English days are long in May. Yet an early star or two showed themselves in the clear sky. The scent of the pinks and apple-blossoms was in the air. "A sweet night toward," said the goldsmith, manifesting an inclination to remain with his guest in the garden. But this was what Ravenshaw did At/STKIiSS .VIl.LICF.NT. 127 not desire. The captain, tlicreforc, as soon as he had lighted his pipe, toolc Master Ktheridge's arm so as to have the greater pretext for walking close to him, and blew such volumes of smoke in the poor man's direction that, for the sake of his eyes and nostrils, being no "tobacconist," he was soon glad to make excuse for returning into the house, and to hasten back, coughing and blinking. " If she is a woman," mused the captain, left alone, "she will come to hear what I may tell her. She has been on pins and needles. Hy this light, what a piece of chance ! — that this maid should be that one ! What shall I say to her .' I must open upon the matter of that night. Tut, has she not yet observed I am alone here now.' Or has she not the freedom of the house ? or the wit to devise means of coming hither.' Well, I win give her the time of this pipeful. What a sweet evening ! " But the sweetness of the evening made him only sigh uneasily, and feel more out of sorts with him- self. Several minutes passed, and he was thinking he might have to resort to some keen stroke of wit to get private speech with her, after all ; when suddenly she appeared, with ghostlike swiftness, at the corner where the passage along the kitchen wing gave into the garden. He was, at the moment, scarce ten feet from that spot. She was blushing and perlurljed. She cast a 128 CAPTAIN RAVEXsriAW. look up at the dining-room window, then glanced at him, and, instantly dropping her eyes, sped over the turf to the farther side of ^he apple-tree. He quickly followed her; and when, thereupon, they stood together, the tree screened them from the house. Without looking at him, and tremblingly plucking the apple-blossoms to hide her confusion, she said, quickly : "Sir, I thank you for what you did that night. You will not tell them, will you.'" He thought that, by promising unconditionally, he should lose a possible means of controlling her actions ; so he must, for the moment, evade. " Then they know not .' " he queried. "Nay; I got in, and to my chamber, without waking any one." " And had you no further molestation in the streets.' One of those men tricked me, and fol- lowed you. I learned it after." She looked at him with a little surprise. " Nay, I saw him not, nor heard him. I had no trouble. Bu. you will not tell.'" Her wide-open eyes, round and large and of the deepest blue, were turned ..craight upon his face, as if they meant to leave him not till they should have a direct answer. " Why — mistress," he blundered, and then H M/S7AW:SS MILLlCIiXT. \2') dropped his own gaze to \vh> re he was beginning to scrape the gravel awkwardly with his shoe, "why need you asli ? Did I not protect your secret that night ? " "Then why do you hesitate now?" she demanded, with a sudden unconcealed mistrust. " Oh, Master llolyday, what is in your mind? Why have you drawn me hither to speak with you alone? Why do you make a doubt of promising not to betray me ? Come, sir, I have little time ; they will soon be wondering where I am ; either promise me, or I myself will tell them, and then, by St. Anne, I care not — " There was a threat of weeping in her voice and face, and Ravenshaw impulsively threw up his hand, and said : " Nay, fear not. I will not tell. I give my word." Trouble fled from her face, and a smile of grati- tude made her appear doubly charming. Ravenshaw cleared his throat, without reason, and tried to meet her glance without seeing her, if that had been possible. "You are a happy maid," quoth he, settling down to a disagreeable business. " 'Tis proven that you may play the runaway for an hour or two, when you wish, and none be the wiser. There's many a maid would give her best gown thrice over, for that assurance.'' '30 CMITA/y KAl'E JS/fA'y. "Troth, it serves me nothing," she said, with a forlornness he could not understand. "An I were to play the runaway again, whither should I run ? " He thought for an instant of going into the mystery of her former desire to run away ; but he decided that, as time pressed, it were better to hold to the present design. "Whither, indeed.'" quoth he. "Faith, London has no lack of pleasant bowers, where beauty may hear itself praised by the lips of love. Sure, you look as if I talked Greek to you. Certainly you are wont ta hear yourself admired ? " " Oh ! " she murmured, at a loss, with a smile, and a blush of confusion. "Troth, now," said he ; "confess you enjoy to be admired." " Oh, pray," she faltered, " talk not of such things. I know not how to answer." " Yet you take pleasure in hearing them ? Come, the truth, mistress. Faith, 'tis but a simple ques- tion." " Oh — why — I do — and I do not." " I warrant," quoth he, softly, "there would be no 'I do not,' if the right gentleman spoke them." The captain's tone seemed lightly gay and banter- ing; but, though she knew it not, his throat was dry, and he was trembling from head to foot like a shivering terrier. Jir/SrAf£S. " mused Kavcnshaw, strid- ing to a corner where he might sit unregarded. "You should have come hither straightw.ay, kig and baggage," said Master Etheridgc to the old fop. " What need was there to go to the inn first ? " " Need .' Oh, for shame, sir ! Would you have me seen in the clothes I travelled in .' Good lack, I trow not ! Thinkst thou we that live in Berkshire know not good manners.'" The knight sj^oke in pleasantry; it was clear he accounted himself the mirror of politeness. •' What sayst thou, mother .> " "Oh, what you do is ever right. Sir Peregrine," replied Mistress Etheridgc, placidly. Hut Raven- shaw, in his comer, was almost startled into mirth at hearing the wrinkled old visitor address the youthful looking matron as mother. What did it mean > 136 CAPTAIN RAVENSIIAW. Sir Peregrine bowed, with his hand on his heart ; in which motion his eye fell upon a speck of some- thing black upon the lower part of his stocking. Stooping further to remove it, and striving not to bend his knees in the action, he narrowly escaped overbalancing; and came up red-faced and panting. Ravenshaw thought he detected in Mistress Milli- cent's face a flash of malicious pleasure at the old fellow's discomfiture. She had taken a seat by the chimneypiece, where she seemed to be nursing a kind of suppressed fury. The knight, after his moment of peril, dropped into a chair in rather a tottering fashion, and sat complacently regarding his own figure and attire. The figure was shrugged up, and as spare as that of Don Quixote — a person, at that time, not yet known to the world. It was dressed in a suit of peach-colour satin, with slashes and openings over cloth of silver; with wings, ribbons, and garters. His shoes were adorned with great rosettes; a ribbon was tied in the love-lock hanging by his ear; and a huge ruff compelled him to hold high a head naturally designed to sink low between his sharp shoulders. His face, a triangle with the fore- head as base, was pallid and dried-up ; the eyes were small and streaky, the nose long and thin, the chin tipped with a little pointed beard, which, like the up-turned moustaches and the hair of the head, was 1 1 I 1 S//! PER EG HIKE MRinVAV. 137 dyed a reddish brown. On this countenance reposed a look of the utmost sufficiency, that of a person who takes himself seriously, and who never dreams that any one can doubt his greatness or his charms. From the subsequent talk, it became known to Ravenshaw that Sir Peregrine had, a few months before, been thrown by a horse on his estate in Berkshire, and had but now recovered fully from the effects. The knight described the accident with infinite detail, and with supreme concern for himself, repeating the same circumstances over and over again. He was equally particular and reiterative in his account of his slow recovery. His auditors, mak- ing show of great attention and solicitude, punctuated his narrative with many yawns and frequent nod- dings ; but on and on he lisped and cackled. "Good lack," said he, "there was such coming and going of neighbours for news of how I did ! I never knew so much ado made in Berkshire ; faith, I lamented that I should be the cause on't, such disturbance of the public peace, and I a justice. And what with the ladies coming in dozens to nurse me ! — troth, that they all might have a share on't, and none be offended, I must needs be watched of three at a time — What, sweet .' " He was casting a roguish look at Mistress Millicent. " Art vexed .' Art cast down ? Good lack I see how jealous it is ! Fie, fie, sweetheart ! Am I to blame if the ladies 138 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. would flock around me ? Comfort thyself ; I am all thine." Mistress Millicent, despite her vexation, of which the cause was other than he assumed, could not help laughing outright. The captain began to see how matters stood. But old Sir Peregrine was un- touched by her brief outburst of mirth, and con- tinued to shake a finger of raillery at her. "Sweet, sweet, ye're all alike, all womankind. My first wife was so, and my second wife was so ; and now my third that is to be." The girl's face blazed like a poppy with fury, and her blue eyes flashed with rebellion. She looked all the more young, and fresh, and warm with life, for that ; and when Ravenshaw glanced from her to the colourless, shrivelled old knight — from the humid rose in its first bloom, to the withered rush — he felt for an instant a choking sickness of dis- gust. But the girl's parents remained serenely callous, and the old coxcomb, with equal insensi- bility, prattled on, putting it to the blame of nature that he should be, without intent, so much the desire of ladies and the jealousy of his wives past and to come. Meanwhile Mistress Etheridge, having silently left the room with the woman Lettice, returned alone, and begged Sir Peregrine to come and partake of a little supper. From the knight's alacrity in S/X PEREGRINE MEDIVAY. 130 accepting, it was plain he had honoured the family doubly. -first by tarrying to change his clothes for his call, and then by not tarrying to eat before coming to them, an additional honour that Mistress Etheridge had divined. With courtly bows and flourishes, he followed her toward the dining- chamber; whither he was followed in turn, for politeness- sake, by the goldsmith, who apologised to Ravenshaw for leaving him. Whatev-r were the captain's feelings, Mistress Milhcent seemed glad, or at least relieved, to be alone with him. "I wish you joy of your coming marriage," said Ravenshaw, tentatively. "You would as well wish me joy of my death," she replied, with a mixture of anger and forlornnes's. He rose and walked over to the fireplace, near b?r. "Why, 'tis true," quoth he; "when the bride IS young, the arms of an old husband are a grave." "Worse! When one is dead in one's grave, one knows nothing; but to be alive in those arms — fob!" "Your good parents will have you take this hus- band, I trow, whether you will or no.>" "Yes; and I shall love them the less for it." she replied, sadly. "Has a contract passed between you.'" ■40 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. \ -1 " Not on my part, I can swear to that ! Before Sir Peregrine went back to Berkshire the last time, they tried to have a betrothal before witnesses ; but I let fall both the ring he wished to force upon me and the ring I was to give him ; I would not open my lips either to speak, or to return his kiss ; I held my hand back, closed tight, and he had to take it of his own accord. And all this the wit- nesses noted, for they laughed and spoke of it among themselves." " Is the wedding-day set ? " "It may be any day, now that Sir Peregrine is well and in London. No doubt they will get a license, to save thrice asking the banns. I hope I may die in my sleep ere the time comes!" " 'Twere pity if that 'lope came true," said Raven- shaw, smiling. "I dare not hope for a better escape. I'm not like to be favou> -1 again as I was the other time Sir Peregrine was coming to town for the marriage. Then his horse threw him, and gave me a respite — but for only three months. Now he is well again, and safe and sound in London." "What, were you in this peril three months ago.'" "Yes. 'Twas that which made me try to run away, the night you first saw me. The next day, instead of him, came news of his accident." S//! rEREGRIA-Ji MED IV AY. 14, " Whither would you have run ? " "To ray Uncie Bartlemy's, in Kent. You know him of course; he lives near your father." "Oh, yes, yes, certainly," replied the supposed Holyday. " And you saw him that night ; at least, you told me the watch had let him go." "What, was that your Uncle Bartlemy .>_the old gentleman you were to have met -the man my friends and I rescued from the watch ! " "I knew not 'twas you had rescued him; but 'twas he I went to meet at the Standard. Nay, then, if 'twas Uncle Bartlemy you rescued, yoj would have known him ! " "Oh, as for that," blundered Ravenshaw, realising how nearly he had betrayed himself, "no doubt 'twas your Uncle Bartlemy, now I think on't ; but I recog- nised him not that night. For, look you, he took pains to keep unknown ; and all was darkness and haste ; and though we are neighbours, I see but little of him ; and he is the last man I should expect to meet in London abroad in the streets after curfew." "That is true enough," she said, with a smile; "and I hope you will not play the telltale upon him. If his wife knew he had been to London, there would be an end of all peace. Sure, you must promise me not to tell ; for 'twas my pleading brought him to London." 142 CAPTAIN KAVENSilAW. I "Oh, trust me. I give my word. So he came to help you run away from being married to this old knight .' " "Yes. You know there's no love lost betwixt Uncle Bartlemy and my father. But mine uncle hath doted upon me from the first, the more, per- chance, because he hath no child of his own. And I think he loves me doubly, for the quarrel he has with my father." " And so he had not the heart to refuse when you begged him to come and carry you away to his house," conjectured Ravenshaw. " 'Tis so. *Twas the only way I could devise to escape the marriage. I thought, if all could be done by night, I might be concealed in mine uncle's house; and even if my father should think of going there to seek me, he could be put off with denials." " But what would your uncle's wife have said to this?" " Oh, Aunt Margaret is bitter against my father ; she would delight to hoodwink him. The only doubt was how mine uncle might come and take me, without her knowing of his visit to London. For, of a truth, she would never consent to his setting foot inside London town ; and there was no one else I dared trust to conduct me. And so we had it that Uncle Bartlemy should feign to go to Rochester, and then, S/X PERECR/NE SfEDWAY. '43 on his way home, to have happened upon me in my flight." "And so your aunt be none the wiser? Well, such folly deserves to be cozened — the folly of forbidding her husband coming to London." " Oh," replied Mistress Millicent, blushing a little as she smiled, " my dear aunt is, in truth, as jealous as Sir Peregrine would have us believe his wives were. There is a lady in London that Uncle Bart- lemy played servant to before he was married, and Aunt Margaret made him promise never to come within sight of the town." " I marvel how you laid your plans with him, with- out discovery of your people or his." "There was a carrier's man that goes betwixt London and Rochester, who used to come courting one ef our maids. We passed letters privately by means of him, till he fell out with the maid, and now comes hither no more. The last word I had of my uncle was after that night. He told me of his mis- hap with the watch, and of his getting free — though he said not how. And he vowed he must leave me to my fate, for he would never venture for me again as he had done. So I was left without hope. When I recognised you to-day as my preserver that night, and remembered that the Holydays were my uncle's neighbours, I thought — mayhap — you might have some message from him ; but, alas — ! " 144 CAPTAiN KAVENSHAW. "And that is why you followed me to the gar- den?" said the captain, carelessly, though inwardly he winced. " Ay. Your look seemed to promise — but woe's me I And yet you spoke of my running away again } " " Oh, I talked wildly. I know not what possessed me. Some things I said must have been very strange." •< Why, forsooth," said she, smiling again, and col- ouring most sweetly, " they seemed not so strange at the time, for I had forgot you are to be married ; but now that I remember tlat — Belike you imagined for a moment you were speaking to the lady you are to marry .' " " Belike that is so. But touching this marriage : what is to hinder your running away to your uncle's now, with a trusty person to conduct you ? " " My uncle, in his letter, said he washed his hands of my affairs. He counselled me to make the best of Sir Peregrine's estate ; he gave me warning he would not harbour me if I came to him.'' " A most loving uncle, truly ! " " Nay, his love had not altered. But what befell him in London that night gave him such a fright of meddling in the matter." " Perchance his warning was only to keep you from some rash flight. And, mayhap, now that his fears have passed away, he would receive you." S/K rEKEGK/A'E MlWiyMV. '45 If I might try! — hush, they arc " I know not. coming back ! " Ravenshaw could hear Sir Peregrine's cracked voice in the passage ; but he ventured, quickly : "I'd fain talk more of this — alone with you. When ? " " When you will," she replied, hurriedly. " I know not your plans." "In your garden, then," he said at a hazard ; "to- morrow at nightfall. Let the side gate be unlocked." " I'll try. ISut do not you fail." " Trust me ; and meanwhile, if they turn sudden in the matter, and resolve to have the marriage forth- with, find shift to put it off, though you must e'en fall ill to hinder it." " I'll vex myself into a fever, if need be I " Ravenshaw was on his feet when the elder people came in ; he advanced toward them as if he had waited impatiently that he might take his leave. As for Mistress Millicent, at sight of Sir Peregrine her face took on at once the petulant, rebellious look it had worn at his departure ; no one would have supposed she had conversed during his absence. When the captain had dismissed himself, he looked back for a moment from the threshold. The limping old coxcomb, more than ever self-satisfied after his supper, was bestowing a loverlike caress upon Mis- tress Millicent, who shrank from him as if she were mil 146 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. a flower whose beauty might wither at his touch. VVitli this v/sion before him, Ravenshaw was let out, by the side door, into Friday Street, and made his way eastward along Cheapside to meet the scholar by appointment among the evening idlers in the Pawn of the Exchange. He thought industriously, as he went. i '?CARBORO CHAPTER IX. THE I'RAISE OF rNNOCENCE. " He keepi hii promise hesi Ihit brnka with hell." - Tif IfiJimi. The Royal Exchange, or Gresham's Uoiirsc, formed an open quadrangle, where the merchants congregated by day, which was surrounded by a colonnade; the roofed gi.lleries over the colonnade made up the Pawn, where ladies and gentlemen walked and lounged in the evening, among bazaars and stalls. Na^-'-nny the uses of such a resort were not lost upon Cs :ain Ravenshaw and Master Holy- day, who had reasons for knowing all places where a houseless man might keep warm or dry in bad weather without cost. When Ravenshaw entered, on this particular May evening, he found the Pawn crowded, and lighted in a manner brilliant for those days. The sch jlar was leaning, pensive, against a post. " God save you, man, why look you so disconso- late .' Is it the sight of so many ladies .' " "No. I heed 'em not, when I am not asked to "em," replied Holyday, listlessly. "How fared youi 147 148 v.irrAi.v KAyKivsftAW. \ .■Oh, — so so. The trick served. Faith, I c'ei\ began to think myself I was Master Ilolyday. But what's the matter .' " It was evident the captain did not wish to talk of his own affair. The scholar was not the man to poke his nose into other people's matters. Hut neither was he one to make any secret of his own concerns when questioned. " Oh, 'tis not much. I have been commissioned to write a play." " What ? " cried the captain, eagerly. " I'or which playhouse ? — the Globe .' — the Ulackfriars > — the Fortune.'" "Nay," said the scholar, sedately; "for Wat Stiles's puppet-show." "Oh! — well, is not that good news.' Is there not money in it .' Why should it make you down i' the mouth ? " " Oh, 'tis not the writing of the play — but I have no money to buy paper a-id ink, and no place to write in." "What, did the rascal showman give you no earnest money ? " "Yes; but I forgot, and spent it for supper. I knew you would make shift to sup at the gold- smith's." " Ay, marry, 'twould have gone hard else. Well, I am glad thou hast eaten. It saves our shifting for THE PKAISR OF INNOCENCE. 149 ll thy supper. Trotl , ,.. shall come by ink and paper. The thing is now to find beds for the night. Would 1 had appointed to meet my gentleman this evening." But suddenly, at this, the captain's face lengthened. " When are you to meet him .' " "At ten to-morrow, in the Temple church," said the captain, dubiously. After a moment's silence, he addod, "And to think that the fat of the land awaits you in Kent whenever you choose to take a wife to your father's house there ! Well, well, it must come to your getting the better of that mad bashfulness — it must come to that in time." "Why," quoth Holyday, surprised, "have you not assured me that women are vipers .' " '•Ay, most of them, indeed — but not all; not all." The captain spoke thoughtfully. "Well," said Holyday, after a pause, "I think I shall lodge in Cold Harbour first, ere I take one home to my father." Cold Harbour was a house in which vagabonds and debtors had sanctuary ; but the two friends had so far steered clear of it, the captain not hkmg the company or the management thereof. Leaving the Exchange, they found the streets alive with people; not only had the fine weather brought out the citizens, but the town was full of countryfolk up for the Trinity law term. "'Ods!id,"a rustic esquire was overheard by the captam to say to another, "I looked to lie at the I' i! 150 CAVTAIN h-A VENSHA W. 15ell to-night, but not a bed's to be had there. 'TwUl go hard it all the inns — " " i:xcellent," whispered Ravenshaw to the scholar. " We shall sleep dry of the dews to-night — else I'm a simple parish ass. Come." They went at once to the sign of the Bell, where the captain applied, with an important air, for a chamber. On hearing that the house was full, he made a great ado, saying he and his friend wished to leave early in the morning in Hobson's wagon start- ing from that inn ; being late risers by habit, they durst not trust themselves to sleep elsewhere, lest they miss the wagon. Finally, going into the inn yard, the captain stated his case to one of Hobson's men, and suggested that he and his companion might lie overnight in the tilt-wagon itself, so as to make sure of not being left behind in the morning. The carrier, glad to get two fares for the downward jour- ney at a season when all the travel was up to town, thought the idea a good one. And so the two slept roomily that night on straw, well above ground, sheltered by the canvas cover of the huge wagon. In the morning, pretending they went for a bottle of wine, they did not return ; and the carrier, whipping up his horses at the end of a vain wait of fifteen minutes, was provided with a subject of thought which lasted all the way to Edmonton. Meanwhile, the captain and the scholar, postponing THE PKAISE OF IXNOCENCE. 151 \ their breakfast, whiled away the time till ten o'clock. At that hour, having left his friend to loiter round Temple Bar, Ravenshaw stepped across the venerable threshold of the church of the Temple. This church, too, was a midday gathering-place, as was also Westminster Abbey. But ten o'clock was too early for the crowd, and the captain found him- self almost alone among the recumbent figures, in dark marble, of bygone knights of the Temple in full armour. Not even the lawyers, in any considerable number, had yet taken their places by the clustered Norman pillars at which they received clients. The gentleman whom Ravenshaw had come to meet, to report the outcome of his attempt with the gold- smith's daughter, was not there. Master Jerningham, indeed, had cause to be late. He had cause also for his mind to be, if not upset, at least tumbled about. In the first place, though he did not try to resist it, he cursed his unreasonable passion for this girl, which took so much time and thought from his final preparations for the voyage on which he had set so heavy a stake. He had been compelled to leave many things to his companion gentlemen-adventurers, which he ought to have over- seen himself. And even as matters were, he was not clear as to what he would be about, concerning the girl. Suppose he won her to a meeting, could such a passion as his be cooled in the few hours dur- '52 CAPTAIN NAVENSIiAir. ing which he might be with her before sailing ? Or should he indeed, ns he had hinted to Sir Clement, set himself to carry her off on his voyage by persua- sion or force ? He knew not ; events must decide ; only two things were certain — he must behold her a yielding conquest in his arms; and he must sail at the time set or as soon after as weather might permit. Upon leaving Ravenshaw in St. Paul's, the day before, he had gone to see a cunning man by whom his nativity had been cast with relation to the voy- age. The astrologer had foretold an obstacle to be encountered at the last moment, and to be avoided only by great prudence. This had darkened Master Jemingham's thoughts for awhile, but he had for- gotten it in the busy cares of the afternoon at Dept- ford, whither he had hastened to see the bestowal of stores upon the ship. He had already got his men down from London and Wapping, all taking part in the work, some living aboard, some at the inns ; so as to risk no desertions. He had returned late to Winchester House, passed a restless night, slept a little after daylight, and set forth in good time before ten for his appointment. Just as he was going down the water-stairs, a small craft shot in ahead of the boat his man Gregory had hailed ; a woman sprang up from the stem and, gaining the stairs with a fearless leap, stood facing I> s " liADK His VISITOR UK sKA IKn I I'tt.N \ SlUNK lil.M II. AM' I ACKli lll.k ^1 I.I.EMA " Page lihi THE PKAISE OF INNOCEA'CE. 151 him. She was a tall, finely made, ruddy-faced crea- ture, m her twenties, attired in the shabby ..mains of a country gentlewoman's gown, and wearing a high-crowned, narrow-brimmed hat. "Name of the fiend!" muttered Master Jerning- ham, starting back in anger and confusion. " What the devil do you here .' " " Peace," said the woman, in a low voice. " Have no fear. If your virtuous kinsman sees me, say I'm old Jeremy's niece come to tell you what men he'll need for the farm work." Her voice befitted her tall and goodly figure, being rich and full; the look upon her handsome countenance was one of mingled humiliation and scorn. "I am in haste." said Jemingham, in great vexation. "You must hear me first," she replied, resolutely Jernmgham, stifling his annoyance, motioned Greg- ory to keep the waterman waiting; then led the way up the stairs to the ter ce, bade his visitor be seated upon a stone bench, and fnced her sullenly "Is this how you keep your promise.'" he said rebukingly. "Oh, many, I put you in no danger. I mi-ht have walked boldly to the doors and asked for you But I lay off yonder in the boat till you came forth • It put me to the more cost, but you are shielded " " Well, why in God's name have you come? " 154 CAPTAW KAVENSIIAW. " Because you would not come to the Grange, and I must needs have speech with you. You forbade messages." "Then have speech with me, and make an end. But look you, Meg, I have no money. I have kept my word with you ; I have given you a home at the Grange; 'twas all I prop^ised." "Tis all I ask. But the place must be a home, rot a hell. 'Tis well enough by day, and I mind not the loneness — troth, I'm glad to hide my shame. But by night 'tis fearful, with none but old Jeremy for protection, and he so feeble and such a coward. You must send a man there, you must ! — a man that is able to use a sword and pistol, and not afraid." " Why, who would go so far from the highroad to rob such a rotten husk of a house .' " •• 'Tis not robbers," she said, sinking her voice to a terrified whisper. " 'Tis ghosts, and witches." Jerningham laughed in derision of the idea. " I tell you it's true. I know what I say," she went on. "Spirits walk there every night; there are such sounds — ! " "Poh!" he interrupted. "The creaking of the timbers ; the moving of the casements in the wind ; the flapping of the arras ; the gnawing and running of rats and mice." "'Tis more than that. There be things I see; THE PKA/SE OF WmCEXCE. ,55 forms that pass swiftly ; they appear fur a moment, then melt away." " 'Tis in your dreams you see them." "I know when I am awake; besides, often I see them when I am not abed." ■They are the trieks of moonlight, then; or of rays that steal in at cracks and crevices; or they are the moving of arras and such in a faint breeze " "I know better. Think not to put me off so I II not stay there alone with old Jeremy. I cannot bear .t_such fright ! Good God. what nights IVe passed ! " Jerningham quieted her with a gesti.re of caution as he looked fearfully around to see if her excited manner was observed. "Then there are witches," she went on, more calmly. - They slink about the house and the garden m the shape of cats. Terrible noises they make at night. "Why, they are cats, like enough ; they seek the rats and mice. Troth, for horrible noises - " " Nay, but I know better. T'other evening Jeremy was late fetching home the cow from the field, and so when I had done milking 'twas near nightfall As I was crossing the yard with the milk, wha" did I see but an old woman leaning on her stick, by the comer of the house. She was chewing and mum- blmg. and looking straight at me. I saw 'twas old 156 CAPTAtN RAl'ENSIIAW. Gootly Banks, whom the whole countryside knows to be a witch." " Foh ! a poor crazy beldame, no doubt come to beg or steal a crust or a cup of milk." " I thought so too, at first, after I had got over the fright of seeing her — for 'tis rare we ever see any one at the Grange. But as I was going to speak to her, she looked at me so evilly I remembered what the countryfolk say of her, and such a fright came over me again, I cried out, ' Avaunt in the name of Jesus I ' and flung the pail of milk at her. I heard a kind of whisk, — for I had closed my eyes as I threw, — and when 1 opened them, there, instead of the old woman, stood a great cat, staring at me with the very same evil eyes ! So I knew she must be a witch — turning into a cat before my very eyes I" " But your eyes were closed, you say." " Ay, she had bewitched me to close 'em, no doubt, so I might not see how she transformed herself." " Why, 'tis all clear. The whisk you heard was of the old woman's running away from the milk-pail. The cat had been there all the while, belike, but you had not seen it for the old woman." " I tell you I know what I saw," she replied, grow- ing vehement again. " You need not think to fool me, and turn me off. Sith you have no other place for me to live, I am content to live at the Grange ; but you must send a man there to guard the place THE PKA/SF. OF /JVNOCF.NCE. 157 against ghosts and witches. Ymi must do it, — a stout, strong man afraid of nothing ; no shivering old dotard Hke Jeremy, who durs'n't stick his nose out of his bedclothes between dusk and daybreak. You promised to give me a home, and I to keep silent and unseen ; but a house of spirits and witches is no fit home, and so what becomes of our agreement ? So best send a man." " Why, if it be not possible .' " "Then I shall hold myself freed of my promise, and if you cannot make one place a home for mc. you shall make another. I shall tell the bishop all that is between us — oh, I shall get word to him, doubt it not ! — and I know what so good a man will do. He will make you marry me, that is what he will 1 Mv birth—" ' "Oh, peace! I was jesting. I will send a man Is t: at all?" « Ay, and little enough. There's much a man can do there, for the good of the place itself. Will you send him to-day .' " "Why, faith, if I can find him — a man fit for the place, I mean. I have much to do to-day." " But I cannot endure another night there, with none but Jeremy in the house. You must send him to-day ; else I swear I will come — " "Nay, give me a little time," pleaded Jcrningham, thinking that if he could but hold her off with prom- 158 CAPTAIN KAVENSHAW. iscs for Iwo clays, her disclosure would matter little, as by that time he would be afloat — unless weather should hinder the sailing. At this "unless," he frowned, and remembered the fortune-teller's predic- tion. Without doubt, what Mistress Meg might do was the obstacle in the case. lie entertained a mor- bid fear of an impediment arising at the la.st moment. The woman was capable of keeping her threat ; and the bishop was capable of staying him at the very lifting of the anchor, capable even of having him pur- sued and brought back as long as he was in home waters. Meg knew nothing of his voyage. He must keep that from her, as well as satisfy her in the matter bf her request. The wise man had said that " pru- dence " might avoid the obstacle ; Jerningham must deal prudently with her. " I will send a man ne.xt week," quoth he. " I will give you till to-morrow to find a fit man," she replied, resolutely. " To-night I can sit up with candles lit. But if your man be not there to-morrow at four o'clock in the afternoon, I shall start for London ; if I come a-horseback I can be here by eight." Jerningham fetched a heavy sigh. He knew this woman, and when she meant what she said, and how impossible it was to move her on those occasions. He thought what a close player his adverse fiend was, to set the time of her possible revelation upon TIIF. PRAISE OF rXNOCENCE. '59 the very eve of his cleparture. Durst he hazard some very probable hitch of her causing ? No ; that would not be "prudence." He must not only promise her ; he must also send the man. After all, that was no difficult matter; once the master was safe away on the seas, destined to come back rich enough to defy bishop and all, or come bark never at all, let the man look where he might for his wage. It was but palming off upon her the first ruffian to be hired, who might behave decently for a week or so. Jerningham's face lightened, therefore; he gave his word, slipped the woman a coin to pay her lioat- man, saw her to the boat by which she had come, and then took his seat in the one awaiting him, and bade the waterman make haste to the Temple stairs. As he and Gregory walked into the Temple church, he did not immediately know the man who hastened up to meet him ; for the upturned mous- taches, and the bareness of chin, except for the little tuft beneath the 'ip, gave the captain a some- what spruce and gallai.t appearance, notwithstanding his plain attire. " God save you, sir. I thought you had changed your mind." " By my soul, sir — oh, 'tis Ravenshaw ! "Faith, 'tis you have changed your face. I was detained, against my will. Let's go behind that farthest pillar. Troth, t6o CAr~AtN RAVENSHAW. this transformation — " He broke off and eyed the captain narrowly, with a sudden suspicion. "A man's face is his own," said Ravcnshaw, bluffly. " One would think you had set yourself to charm the ladies." " Fear not. I have no designs upon the lady you wot of. And now let me speak plain words. When I undertook your business yesterday, 'twas left in doubt between us whether your desire of this maid meant honestly." " 'Slight, it shall remain in doubt, as far as your knowledge is concerned," replied Jerningham, quickly, nettled at the other's tone. "It was left in doubt, as far as speech went," continued Ravenshaw. " But there was little doubt in my mind. And yet I bound myself to the service because I was at war with womankind. I thought all women bad — nay, in my true heart I knew better, but I lost sight of that knowledge, and chose to think them so." "Wherein does your opinion of the sex concern me .' " " But I was wrong," pursued the captain. " I have met one who proves they are not all bad. I were a fool, then, to hold myself at feud with the sex ; and the greater fool to pay back my grudge, if I must pay it, upon one that is innocent." TIIH I'KAISK Of /JVAOCKAVf:. I6l " Why, thou recreant knave ! Do you mean you have failed in the business and would lay it to your virtue?" ■ Softly, jjood sir ! I will tell you this : I can win tlic •■iiiid t . nu.'t you, if I will." •Ilcii kli.ii "icdcvil — ? How much money — ? i: lie ti u;, n:, that I may know whether to use jOV Ji - " "1 will win ihc maid to meet you — if you will pli;(l!TC yo; rsclf — " ■• Go on ; what price ? " " If you will pledge yourself to make her your wife at the meeting, and acknowledge her openly as such." Jemingham stared for 9 moment in amazement. Then he gave a harsh laugh. " A rare jest, i' faith I The roaring captain, desir- ing a city maid for his mistress, offers to get her a gentleman husband! A shrewd captain! Belike, a shrewd maid, rather!" " By this hand, I ought to send you to hell I But for her sake, I will rather explain. She seeks no husband. But I conceived you might be a fit man for such a maid. You are young and well-favoured, — a fitter man than some that might be forced upon her. I thought a marriage with such a mate might save — But to the point : if you love her, why not honestly.? And if honestly, why not in marrbge? 1 63 CAPTAIN RAVENSUAW. You will behold few maids as beautiful, none more innocent. As to her portion, the marriage must needs be against her father's knowledge, by license and bond ; but when he finds his son is so likely a gentleman, I warrant — " "Come, come, an end of this; I am not to be coney-catched. Shall I meet the wench through your mediation, or shall I not ? " " You shall not. And I tell you this : she is not to be won to such a meeting as you are minded for ; not by the forms of gods, the treasures of kings, or the tongues of poets ! " Jerningham shrugged his shoulders. " Ii v' the truth," said the captain. " Virtue beats in her tieart, modesty courses with her blood, purity shines in her eyes, she is the mirror of innocence. Should you find means to try her, I swear to you the attempt would but mar her peace, and serve you nothing. Nay, even if that were not so, — if there were a chance of your enticing her, — black curses would fall upon the man by whose deed that stainless flower were smirched. Innocence robed in beauty — there's too little of it walks the world, that gentlemen should take a hand in spoiling it!" " Man, you waste my time prating," said Jerning- ham, who h.id been thinking swiftly, and ini.igining many possibilities, and hence saw reason for calm speaking. "I see you are stubborn against the THE PKAISK OF /NNOCEXCE. "53 business I bespoke you for. When I want an orator to recommend me a wife, I may seek you. If I wish to hear sermons out of church, I can go to Paul's Cross any day." The two looked at each other searchingly. The captain sought to find why Jerningham, after his exceeding desire, should show but a momentary anger, and speedily turn indifferent. Had his desire melted at a single disappointment? Perhaps; but affairs would bear watching. On Jerningham's part, he was wondering what the other would really be at, concerning the maid; what had passed between them, and how far the captain stood in the way of Jerningham's possessing her by such desperate means as might yet be used. If the man could only be kept unsuspecting, and got out of London for a few days ! Jerningham had a thought. " So let us say no more of this maid," he resumed, "and if you forget her as soon as I shall, she will be soon forgot. No doubt you remember I spoke of other employments I might have for you. Of course I meant if you served me well with the goldsmith's wench. You proved a frail staff to lean upon in that matter, but I perceive 'tis no fair test of you where a woman is in the case. So, as you are a man to my liking, I will try you in another business. By the foot of a soldier, it cuts my heart to see men of mettle hounded by ill fortune 1 " i64 CAPTAIN RAVr.NSHAW. So soft and urbane had Master Jerningham sud- denly grown, so tender and courteous was his voice, so sweet a smile had transformed his melancholy face, that the captain was disarmed. All the gentle- man in Ravenshaw seemed to be touched by the other's manner; he would have felt graceless and churlish to resist. " If the business be one that goes less against my stomach, I will show my thanks in it," said he, in conciliated tones. "'Tis a kind of stewardship over a little estate I have in Kent — if you mind not going to the country." " Say on ! " quoth the captain, opening his eyes at the beneficent prospect. Master Jerningham depicted his small inheritance of neglected fields and crazy house in as favourable colours as he could safely use. The captain, dis- sembling not his satisfaction, averred he could wear the gold chain of stewardship as well as another man. An agreement was struck upon the spot ; Jerning- ham imparted the general details, and said he would have the necessary writings made, and full instruc- tions drawn up, within a few days ; meanwhile, he desired the new steward to install himself in the house at once. " Marry, a bite and a sup, and I am ready," cried Ravenshaw, gaily; then suddenly remembered his THE PRAISE OF INNOCENCE. 165 You must go cannot go till promise to meet the goldsmith's daughter that even- ing. " Nay, I forgot ; I have some affairs to settle. I cannot go before to-morrow." Jerningham, whose purpose had jaeen so happily met by the captain's readiness, lost hin gratified look. "Oh, a plague on your affairs! to-day," he said. Ravenshaw shook his head. "I to-morrow, and there's an end on't ! " Jerningham sighed with suppressed vexation. He dared not urge lest he arouse suspicion. It was Uk late to back out if the bargain without betraying himself. Moreover, to get the captain away on the morrow was better than nothing. " Well, well ; look to your affairs, then, early to-morrow." Ravenshaw pondered a few moments, start at noon, not before." " But you must be at the Grange by four o'clock ; I have given my word to the people there." " I can do so, setting forth at noon. 'Tis eighteen mi'es, you say. I will go by horse." " 'Slight, man, have you a horse ? " "No, but you will give me one — or the means to buy one at Smithfield ; and then may I die in Newgate if I be not at your country-house at four o'clock ! " But go 'I will l66 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. After a little thought, Jemingham told him to call at a certain gate at Winchester House on the morrow at noon, where a horse would be in waiting ; he then handed him a gold angel and dismissed him to his affairs. The captain had no sooner strutted jauntily off than Jerningham quickly beckoned Gregory, and said earnestly : " Dog his footsteps. Lose not his track till he comes to me to-morrow ; and if he meets her— Be- gone ! you will lose him. Haste ! " The jealous lackey, raised to sudden joy by this congenial commission, glided away like a cat. " I will have her, 'gainst all the surly fathers and swaggering captains in London ; and 'gainst her own wfll, and fiends and angels, to boot!" said Master Jemingham, in his heart. About the same moment, Ravenshaw was saying ill his heart, as he trod the stones of Fleet Street : " Ere I leave London, I'll see her safe from the old man's hopes and the young man's devices. I'll pawn ray brains, else I " f JiiVV.'^ CHAPTER X. IN THE goldsmith's garden. " Rilher than b« yoked with lh[» bndeiroom is appoinud mt I would ulw up any husband almost upon any trust." — BarlkoUmmt F appear in coming from the house, he listened to the music of a stately dance. — the thin hut elegant and spirit-like music of the time, produced on this occasion by violins, flutes, and shawms. When the strains died, they were soon followed by bursts of laughter from the open dining-room windows ; then, presently, in the moonlight, he saw the figure he awaited. With a golden caul upon her head, and wearing the long robe and train necessary to the majestic pavan which she had recently been dancing, she glided across the turf, and stopped before him. "You have come from great mirth," whispered the captain, looking toward the windows whence the laughter proceeded. " It enabled me to escape," she whispered in reply. "They are listening to the tales of one Master Vallance ; he has been telling of the roguer- ies of a rascal named Ravenshaw, a disbanded cap- tain that swaggers about the town." Iff THE GOLDSMITH'S GARDEN 171 He stared at her, with open eyes and limp jaw ; in a vague way he remembered one Master Vall.ince as a gallant who had insulted him one night in the Windmill tavern, the night he first met Master Holy- day. Luckily, she did not notice his expression. " As for me," she finished, " I think no better of gentlemen like Master Vallance for knowing such foul knaves." " Ay, indeed," assented the captain. " They are holding these little revels in welcome to Sir Peregrine," she went on. " You might liave been invited, but I heard my father s.iy lie forgot where you lodged, if you told him." "'Tis better to be here, at your invitation." "Then I bid you welcome," she said, smiling, and holding out her hand. "Faith, a right courteous maid," said he, and took the least motion as if to touch the hand with his lips ; but thought what he was, and stood rigid. " Well, we must talk now of your — " "Good heaven! Stand close b-' -m; the tix-e," she whispered, " 'Tis Sir Peregrine, codl .ifitfr me," Ravenshaw was instantly under ,• <■ , . 1 Sure enough, steps were shuffling along I'v. roti, .u .1 a cracked old voice approached, sayinf; : "What, what, sweet.' Wilt fly me still.' ■ ilt be still peevish .' Nay, good lack, I perciivj it now ; thou knew'st I'd follow ; thou wished to be alone with 173 CAPTAIN RAVENSIIAW. mc, alone with thy chick. A >irctty thought ; I'll kiss thee for it." Ravenshaw heard the smack of the old i uin's lips, and grated his teeth. She had stcppcit toward the knight, so as to meet him at a further distance from her secret visitor, of whom, manifestly, the old fellow's eyes had not caught a glimpse. What was she to do ? To send the interru|ncr back into the house upon a pretext was to be rid of him but a minute. She was not born tu craft, ur schooled in it ; but her situation of late had shariv ened her wits and altered her scrui. s. Ravenshaw, straining his ears, heard her say : " I am angry with you. Sir Peregrine, and that is why I came away." "What, angry, my bird, with thy faithfullest, ever-lovingest servant .' Be I to blame if Mistress Felton smiled so at me .' " " Oh, Mistress Felton ? — let her smile, I care not. I am angry because of thy gift. A goodly gift enough, and more than I deserve ; but when you knew my heart was set upon the sapphire in your Italian bonnet — " "Why, God's love, you never said you wished it I Sure, how — " " Never said, with my lips, no doubt. But have I not said with my eyes, gazing on it by the hour ? Troth, art grown so blind — .' " IN THE COLnSMtTHS CARnF.N. 1 7,1 "Oh, good lack, say no more, sweet I The sap- phire is thine own ; I'll fetch it to-morrow." " Nay, but I wish it to-night, long for it to-night, must have it to-night ; else I shall hate it, and never desire it, and throw it to a coal-carrier when you fetch it!" " God-a-mercy ! thou shall have it to-night. 'Tis at mine inn ; I'll send one uf my men straic;ht- way." " What, trust it to thy man ? Such a jewel, that I have set my heart on .' If he were to lo.se it, or be robbed of it, I should ne'er — " "Oh, fear not. Humphrey is to be trusted; he hath served me fifty — ah — twenty year, come Michaelmas ; he'll fetch it safe." "Oh, well, then, if you fear to go alone for it after dark ! — if you choose not to make a lover's errand of it ! — if you are too old, why, then — " " Oh, tush, I'll go for it ! Too old ! ha, ha ! Thou'rt a jesting chick, thou art. Sec how soon I shall fetch it." He strutted to the gate, and was gone. In a moment, Millicent was by Raven shaw's side ; neither of the two thinking to fasten the gate after the knight's departure. " I see we must be quick," said Ravenshaw. "Your only escape from this marriage is to run away from it. Your only refuge, you once thought, MiaiOCOPY lESOlUTION TEST CHAIT (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) ^ /APPLIED IM^GE li ^^ 1653 East Mom Street ^^ Ro^hestef. Ne« York 14609 USA r^S (;16) 403 - 0300 - Phon« ^^ (716) 288 - 5989 - Fo. 174 CAPTAIN JiAVENSHAW. was your uncle's house. But now that seems closed to you." "I am not sure. My uncle wrote me so, when he was fresh from his mishap in London. But if he found me at his door, he might not have the heart to thrust me away." "No doubt; but your father would seek you at your uncle's. You think you could be hid there; but if your father is the man he seems, and your uncle is the man lie seems, your father would soon have you out of hiding; he would have the house down, else. Is it not so ? " " Perchance you are right ; alas ! " " Now there is a way whereby it may be possible for you to find refuge elsewhere; or whereby you may e'en go to your uncle's and defy your father when he comes after you." " In God's name, what is it .' " "Troth, have you ne'er thought on't .' If you were already married — but not to Sir Peregrine or any such kind of stockfish — might not your husband take you to his own house.' or if he took you to your uncle's, what good were your father's claim upon you against your husband's .' " She looked at him timidly but sweetly, and trem- bled a little. " What .' " quoth she, with pretended gaiety. " Es- cape a husband by seeking a husband .'" IN THE GOLDSMITH'S CAKDEN. 175 "By accepting, not seeking, or.^-one less unfit- one that a maid might find to her liking." "Why, in good sooth — I hope I am not a bold hussy for saying so — but rather than be bound to that odious Sir Peregrine, I think I would choose blmdfold any husband that offered ! And if he were, as you say, to my liking — " " I said he might be to the liking of some maids. Have you ever considered what manner of man your fancy might rest upon .' " He covered the seriousness of the question with a feigned merriment. She, too, wore a smile; in her confusion, she fingered the low-hanging apple- blossoms, and avoided his eyes, but, watching him furtively, she noticed how familiarly his hand reposed on his sword-hilt; ere she bethought herself, she an- swered : " Oh, a man of good wit, a better wit than face, and yet a middling good face, too ; a man that could handle a rapier well — yes, certainly a good sword- man ; and as for — " A voice was suddenly hesrd from the dining- room window aloft : "Millicent! What do you in the garden, child? Sure 'tis thy train I see on the grass. What dost thou behind the apple-tree.'" It was the girl's mother, — Ravenshaw dared not look from behind the tree, but he knew the voice. '(■I 1/6 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. " Say you are with Sir Peregrine," he whispered. With a trembling voice, she obeyed. "Oh!" exclaimed Mistress Etheridge, satisfied; but then, as with a suddenly engendered doubt, " I should have thought Sir Peregrine would speak for himself." "Oh, heaven!" whispered Millicent; "she will send down to see." " Good lack, sweet mother ! " cried Ravenshaw, in well-nigh perfect imitation of Sir Peregrine's cracked voice, " may not young lovers steal away for a tender minute or so .? May not doves coo in a corner un- seen.' Must sweethearts be called from a quiet bower, and made to show themselves, and to give answers .' " "Peace, peace. Sir Peregrine! I am much to blame," replied Mistress Etheridge ; and went away from the window, as Millicent observed in peeping around the apple-tree. "Faith," whispered Ravenshaw, "lest we be over- heard, I should speak love to you in his voice hence- forth." " Nay, I'd rather you spoke it in your own voice," said Millicent, ere she realised. Ravenshaw's heart bounded. " 'Slight, what fool's talk ! " she added, quickly, in chagrin. " I do indeed forget the other maid ! " " What other maid ? " he asked, off his guard. \ IN THE GOLDSMITH'S GARDEN. 177 "The maid you are to marry, of course." "Oh! — faith, yes, I forgot her, too!" he an- swered, truly enough. "Fie, Master Holyday!" she said, pride bidding her assume the mask of raillery. "Holyday, say you.'" called out an insolent, deri- sive voice, at which both Ravenshaw and Millicent started in surprise, for it came from within the garden. A moment later, a head was thrust forth from the shubbery by the gate, -the head of Mas- ter Jerningham's man Gregory, who had patiently hounded Ravenshaw all afternoon and evening, and had slipped in when Sir Peregrine had left the gate unclosed. "Holyday, forsooth!" he went on, instantl) ive to the opportunity of serving his master by shatter- ing the falsely won confidence he saw between the maid and Ravenshaw. " You are cozened, mistress. The man's name is not Holyday; 'tis Ravenshaw — and a scurvy name he has made of it, too ! " Astonishment and mortification had held the cap- tain motionless ; but now, with a sharp ejaculation, he flashed out his rapier, and ran for his e.xposer.' But the cat.fon.ed Gregory had as swiftly darted along betwee .ubbery and wall, and Ravenshaw, on reaching the place where he had appeared, had to stop and look about in vain for him. "What does he mean.'" demanded Millicent of 178 CAPTAIN JitAVENSHAW. the captain, whom she had followed. " Is your name Ravenshaw ? " He felt that his wrathful movement against his accuser had confirmed the accusation ; moreover, there was that in her look which made it too re- pugnant to deceive her longer. " I cannot deny it," he said, humbly. " What I Not that Ravenshaw .' " "The one of whom you heard Master Vallance speak .' -yes! Here Gregory's voice put in again from another part of the shrubbery : "'Tis Ravenshaw, the roaring rascal, that calls himself captain, and lives by his wits and by blus- tering." A slight sound told that this speech was followed by another prudent flight behind the shrubbery. Ravenshaw was minded to give chase and dig the fellow out at all cost, but was drawn from that in- tention, and from all thought of the spy, by the look of horror, indignation, and loathing that had come over Millicent's face. He took a step toward her ; but, with a gesture of abhorrence, she ran from him across the garden. Knowing not what he would say or do in supplication, he went after her. " Not another step ! " she cried, turning upon him, and with the ^.gnity of outraged trustfulness. " Go hence, villain, rascal, knave ! Go, or I will call my m THE GOLDSMITH'S GARDEN. •79 father, to have his 'prentices throw you into the street ! Good God ! to think I should have trusted my secrets to such an ill-famed rogue ! I know not what your purpose was, but for once you shall fail in your cheateries. I'd rather wed Sir Peregrine Medway thrice over than be beholden to — " At this instant, and as Ravenshaw stood shrinking in the fire of her contempt, the unseen Gregory, having seized his chance for a concealed dash from the garden, reached the gate, and ran plump into the arms of Sir Peregrine, who was returning with the sapphire. "Good lack, what the devil's this?" exclaimed the ancient knight, knocked out of breath ; and he pluckily caught Gregory by the neck, and forced him back into the garden. " Let him go," said Millicent, as the knight came forward in great amazement. "He is a knave, doubtless, but deserves well for unmasking this other knave." "What, why, 'tis Master Holyday!" said Sir Peregrine, quite bewildered. "Call'st thou him a knave .> And what dost thou here. Master Holy- day > I knew not you were invited to the revelc." "'Tis no Master Holyday," said Millicent, "but one Captain Ravenshaw, whose name is a byword of the taverns; this man has declared him, and he denies it not. What his designs were, in passing I So CAPTAIN HAVKh'SHAW. upon my father by the name of Ilolyday, I know not." " Good lack ! here's wonders and marvels ! And how comes he to be here to-night ? " Millicent hesitated. Ravenshaw spoke for the first time : "I came through that gate, which you were so careless as to leave open, Sir Peregrine ; I saw you go, as I stood without ; and what my purposes were, you may amuse yourself in guessing. Yonder knave, I perceive, followed me — " At this, Gregory, not liking the captain's tone, suddenly jerked from the old knight's grasp, and bolted out through the gate. Ravenshaw could not immediately pursue him, for he had been thinking swiftly, and had something yet to say : " My designs being foiled, and to show that I am a man of pleasant humour, I will e'en give you a word of good counsel. When you tell Master Etheridge how he was fooled in his friend, young Holyday, let him suppose you were here when I entered this garden ; for, look you, it will show ill in you to have left this lady alone, and the gate open ; and it will appear careless in her, not to have made sure the gate was fastened. It will seem brave in you, moreover, to have been here and put me to rout when that knave betrayed me." He paused, looking at Millicent to see whether fff THE COLDSMirirs GAKDEN. ,8, She inwardly thanked him for saving .he secret of her deahngs w.th hin, ; but. though she seemed to bre the , ,,, , „„^^ ^^^^,^_ ^ ^ ^^^ ^^^^_^^ o or hi^H r '"^'"''°"' ^"^ ^'''''"■'^'^ -'hing for h.„, b„, ,„„,^„p^. ^^^j^^j^^^ ^^^ ^ g had ^deeper mot.ves for his advice, or that he was Receiving no reply from either her or Sir Pere- gnne the captain, after waiting a moment, made a ^ow bow, turned, and swaggered out through the terlfJn"''* '''' "''' '° '^° ^' ""' counselled," fal- tared Milhcent, in a low tone, after Sir Peregrine |.a«ye,osedthegate,andasheledhe^r:; "Ay. so I think. I would not have your father know you .ere careless, sweet. Take the sapS chick, and give me a kiss for it." tache "^'.^'''J"'' ^""^ -°™d her. and his mous- ache agamst her lip, and meditated that her last hope had proved worthless, she gave herself up a lost. an. accounted herself rather a dead than a living person for the rest of her days ^ oveTthT'^'.'T'" ''^^^"^''^^' ^f*- ^'"^bling dZw r.' ^ ^"^ '"'' "' ' '^'^ that huddled drunkenhke m the next doorway, plunged rapidly by the drunkenhke figure, which, on rising from the I83 C.tl'TAlN RAVENSHAW. doorway, proved to be that of Gregory himself, firm upon shadowing his enemy until the latter's meeting with Jerningham next day. At last abandoning the quest, during which Milli- cent's whiplike words of dismissal lashed his heart all the while, Ravenshaw returned to a part of Friday Street where he could stand in solitude and see the light, and hear the sprightly music, that came from the goldsmith's windows. "Though you loathe me and cast me off," he whispered, looking toward the room in which she might be, " yet, against your knowledge, and against your will to be served by me, I will keep my promise, and save you! You may fling me forth, but you cannot stop me from that ! Hope be with you in these revels, sweet ; and sleep lie soft upon your eyelids afterward. Good night ! " After a little time, he made up his mind what to do, and took himself off through Cheapside, the keen- eyed, silent-footed serving-roan still upon his track. CHAPTER XI. THE RASCAL EMPLOYS II. S WITS. icol^,!'"''J ^L ' l"" ^"°" "° ■"»« "' "•> "«"l' ' ll'.r.'. no, .„, of „, Ravenshaw had not the slightest thought that he was being followed, or had been followed du-" • the day. He had recognised Gregory as Jeming- ham's attendant, but he supposed Jerningham had sent the man, for want of a better instrument, to attempt what Ravenshaw himself had withdrawn from, or perchance to carry a letter ; he thus ac- counted for the serving-man's unexpected presence in the garden. He knew that the knave would not suco. d, even if he tried it. in communicating with Mistress Milli- cent that night. But doubtless f. nher efforts would be made soon. and. while he felt she was proof against any manifest overtures against her honour, he feared some cunning proposal which might have a false appearance of honesty, and to which, in her des- perate desire to escape from Sir Peregrine, she might therefore give ear. Here was additional reason why he must work swiftly to place her out 183 i84 CAPTAIN RAVENSIIAW. kA all danger, cither on Jerningham's side or on Sir Peregrine's, if sufficient reason did not already exist in the fact that he had to leave London at noon the next day. The arrangement for his serv- ing Master Jerningham in the country could not be at all affected by his passage with Jerningham's man in the garden. Gregory's action there must have been on the inspiration of the moment, and formed no cause of quarrel with Jerningh...ii ; while Jerning- ham, on learning that Ravenshaw had again visited the goldsmith's daughter, would be the more desirous to get him out of London. Walking out Cheapside, the captain gave final order to the plans he had been evolving all the afternoon. He first made search and question in sundry ale- hou£»- and such, about Pye Corner, for Cutting Tom ; whom at last he found in a room filled with tobacco smoke, where a number of suburb rascals and sightseeing rustics were at the moment watch- ing a fantastic fellow dance to a comrade's pipe and tabour. From this innocent amusement, Cutting Tom was easily drawn into the privacy of a little garden attached to the place. "What cheer now?" queried Tom. "Fighting to be done? or coney-catching.' You know I'm your man through sea-water and hell-fire, for a brace of angels or so." THE KASCAt. F.MriOYS HIS HITS. 185 "I have a small matter afoot t.) morrow iiiKlii," replied Raveiishaw, Kriiffly, "wherein I can em|)l(.y a man like you, and tnree or four under hin\" "Troth!" said Tom, becoming consequential, "I have some affairs of my own to-morrow night, and that's the hell of it." " Then good night to you ! " " Oh, stay, captain I — I had some slight bus' less ; but to serve you, captain — " "You bottle-ale rogue, think not to cozen me into a higher price. Affairs of your own! — no more of that. Shall we deal, or no.'" " Oh, I am all yours, captain. For you, I would put myself out any day. Say on." "Then you are first to raise four stout fellows whom you can trust as you do your false dice or your right hand." " They are near. Trust me for "em." " At sunset to-morrow, you and your men, all well armed, and furnished with lights, be in waiting before the White Horse tavern in Friday Street, — that is to say, loitering in a manner not to make people in- quisitive. There will come to you anon a young gentleman — with a young woman. The gentleman is one you have seen. He was with me the night you turned tail to those counterfeit roaring boys." " I have seen him with you since,— a lean, clerkly man." i86 CAPTAIN RAVENSKAW. "Ay; and he and the maid will pass the White Horse tavern, as soon after sunset as may be. Now, be sure you mistake not the man, — it may be nightfall ere they come." "Never fear. I am a man of darkness. Mine eyes are an old tom93 Master Burney laughed at this sally, and somewhat reinstated himself in the favour of the little gallant. R.. 'enshaw bowed low. "I salute your most keen, subtle, elegant, biting wit, Lady Greensleeves ! It cuts ; oh, it cuts ! " '"Lady Greensleeves!' Ho, ho, ho!" bawled Master Burney, and forthwith essayed to sing, with a tunelessness the worse for the opposition of the fiddlers, some lines of the familiar ballad: " Greenselves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight ; Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but Lady Greensleeves ? " The point of the nickname lay in the fact that the pink silk gown which encased the large, shapely figure of the lady — a gown so cut as to reveal an ample surface of bust — was fitted with sleeves of light green. " Christ ! what caterwauling ! " quoth Lady Green- sleeves, with a smile, not ill-naturedly. "'Tis not as bad as his laughing, at worst," said her gallant. " What is amiss with his laughing .' " spoke up the brunette, pressing Master Burney's hand the more tightly. "Oh," replied the little gallant, "I find no fault that he laughs ; but 'tis the manner of his laugh. If 194 CAPTAIN KAVENSHAW. he but laughed like a Christian, I should not mind. But he laughs like a — like a — " " Like a what ? " persisted the bninette, defiantly. " Like a pig," said Lady Greensleeves, placidly. The brunette's eyes flashed at the fair woman, but the latter's amiable, half-smiling look disarmed wrath, or seemed to put it in the wrong, and so for a moment nobody spoke. Meanwhile Ravenshaw had made these swift deductions : Here was one gentle- man prone to laugh at anything ; there was another gentleman quick to take offence at that laughter if it was directed against his mistress ; neither gentleman was afraid of the other, but both were afraid of Ravenshaw, whose name gave him a fine isolation, making it as hard for him to find adversaries in fight as in gaming ; and each gentleman was adored by his lady. In a flash, the captain saw what might be made out of the situation. " How is it you knew who I was, Lady Green- sleeves .' " he asked. " I think, if I had ever met you, I should have remembered you." " Oh, lord ! I would not for a thousand pound rub against all the scurvy stuff that's in your memory ! I was in Paris Garden the day you killed the bear that got loose among the people, and that is how I learned who you were. And oft since then I have seen you hanging about tavern doors, as I have gone about the town in my coach. I think I have seen THE RASCAL EMPLOYS HIS IV/TS. 195 you at prison windows, hanging down a box for pennies, but I'm not sure." This time Master Bumey's laugh was upon the captain, and all joined in it. "No doubt," said Ravenshaw; "and I think you once put a penny in the box, but when I drew it up I found it was a bad one." " Troth, then," she said, " herd's a good coin to make up for it." And she took up the smallest piece of gold from the pile in front of her, and threw it toward him. " Take it, and buy stale prunes to keep up your stale valour ! " " Nay," he retorted, throwing it back ; " keep it, and buy stale paint to keep up your stale beauty ! " Master Bumey's shout of mirth was cut short by a curse, and a slap in the face, both from Lady Green- sleeves's lover who had leaped to his feet and was the picture of fury. The struck man, with a loud roar of anger, sprang up instantly ; and both had their rapiers in hand in a moment. The two other gentlemen and the brunette rushed in to keep the angry gallants asunder ; Lady Green- sleeves sat like one helpless, and began to scream like a frightened child ; the fiddlers broke off their tune of a sudden ; the hound fled to the empty fireplace, and barked. The two opponents struggled fiercely to shake off the would-be peacemakers, and were for killing each other straightway. 196 CAPTAIN RAVBNSHAW. "Gentlemen, gentlemen," shouted Ravrnshaw above the tumult; "not before ladies! not incoors! There be the fields behind the tavern, and a ;ood moonlight." With this, he caught the brunette by the wrists, and drew her from the fray. Holding her with his left arm, he pushed Master Burney's enemy violently toward the door. " To the fields, then ! " cried the little gentleman. " To the fields an he dare follow 1 " Master Burney's reply was drowned by the cries of the ladies, as he dashed after the other. The two neutral gentlemen, yielding to the trend of the inci- dent, accompanied the angry ones forth. The captain, instead of following, slammed the door after them, released the brunette, and stood with his back to the closed door to stop any one else from leaving the room. The brunette, shrieking threats, tried again and again to pass him, but he pushed her back each time until she sank exhausted on a chair by the table ; and all the while poor Lady Greensleeves wailed as if her heart would break. " "Tis not for ladies to interfere in these matters," said Ravenshaw, when he could make himself heard. " A blow has been struck, and men of honour have but one course. Their friends will see all fitly done. Despair not, mistress : your gallant has great vantage it]. size and strength." THU RASCAL EMPLOYS HIS WITS. 197 "Then you think he will win ?" cried the brunette. " Heaven be praised I " "Oh, God I oh, Got.." moaned Lady Green- sleeves. "Then my dear servant is a dead man. Woe's me I woe's met I'll turn nun; nay, I'll take poison, that I will ! " "Why, madam," said Ravenshaw, "your gentle- man wUl acquit himself well, be sure of it. He is so quick ; and the other's bulk is in your man's favour." It was now the brown beauty's turn to be dis- mayed. "Oh, thank heaven I" cried Lady Greensleeves, smiling gratefully through her tears. " Yes, indeed, he is quick ; he will give that big Burney a dozen thrusts ere the great fellow can move." At this the dark woman started up for another struggle with Ravenshaw, but he stayed her with the words : "Nay, the small gentleman is too light to thrust hard. Think of Master Bumey's weight ; when he does touch, 'twill go home, no doubt of that." All this time the captain was on tenter-hooks lest the fight had really begun ; a moment's loss of time would be fatal to his purpose ; he must bring matters to a point. "In very truth," he said, "as a man acquainted with these things, if I were to wager which of the two is like to be killed " SCARBORO 198 CAPTAIN RAVBSSHAW. " Which ? " cried the women together, as he paused. " Both I " Even Oreenslecves sprang up this time, and Raven- shaw f( 'I himself confronted by two desperate, sobbing creatures. "Baclc, ladies I" he shouted, quickly. "I will stop their fighting!" They stood still, regarding him with wondering inquiry. " If you will stay in this room," he continued. "We will not stir a step," cried Lady Green- sleeves. " Make haste, for God's sake I " "And if you will give me a handful of those yellow boys yonder," he added. With a cry of joy, Greensleeves swept up a hand- ful of the two little piles of gold, and held it out to him. "Stay," said the brown lady, closing her palm over the gold in the other's hand. " He shall have it —when he brings the two gentlemen back to us, friends and unscathed." "That's fair," said Ravenshaw ; 'so that you give it to me privately, ere they take note." " Yes, yes ! " panted the brunette ; and " God's name, haste ! " cried Greensleeves ; and the capt.iin, without another word, dashed out of the room, and down the stairs. He ran through the garden behind the tavern, and THE KASCAL KAfri.Oys /lis WITS. •99 so by a gate, which the gentlemen had left <.|)en, to the fields, which stretched northward to Clerken- well and Islington. He descried the four gallants near at hand, where they had chosen a clean, level piece of turf. I'ortunately, the many noises in the tavern, noises of music, laughter, gaming, and sing- ing, had kept attention from being drawn to the tumult of this affair, and so no one had followed the four gentlemen out. The two who had tried to i.iake peace had now fallen naturally into the place of seconds, and were finishing the preliminaries of the fight, while the adversaries stood with their doublets off, waiting for the time to begin. Just as their weapons met, with a musical ring of steel, the captain dashed in and struck up the rapiers with his own. "Gentlemen, I am defrauded here," he said, as the combatants stood back in surprise. " I was the first to offend, in the house yonder, and the first to be offended. 'Tis my right to fight one of you first - 1 care not which — and, by this hand, you shall not proceed till my quarrel is settled ! " "Oh, pish, man!" said the little gallant; "we have no quarrel with you. Our fight is begun ; I pray, stand aside, and let us have it out." " Upon one condition, then," said Ravenshaw. The two gallants raised their pomts, to rush at each other. 200 CAPTAIN KAVENSIIAW. " That the survivor shall fight me afterward," he finished. The two gallants lowered their points, and hesi- tated. " Troth, I have taken no offence of you, sir," said Master Burney ; "and given none, I think." " But your ladies yonder gave me offence ; and to whom shall I look for reparation, if not to you two .' " " Faith," said the small gallant, " a man who under- took to give reparation for every focUsh word a woman spoke, would have no time to eat, drink, or sleep." " I see how it is," said Ravenshaw, with a shrug. " I may not hope for satisfaction unless I force you to self-defence; and that would be murder. But, by the foot of a soldier, if I must go without repara- tion, I'll not be the only one ! If I forego, so must you both. How like you that. Master Burney .' " " How can I .' He struck me a blow." " Well, no doubt, if I pray him, he will withdraw the blow. Will you not, sir ? " " I do not like to," answered the little man ; "but if he will withdraw his laughter — " "Why, forsooth, a man of known courage may withdraw anything, and no harm to his reputation," said the captain. " To prove it I will withdraw all offence I have given, and will take it that you two, THE KASCAL EMl'LOVS Ills WITS. 20I on behalf of the ladies, withdraw all oflence they have done rae. Saviolo himself, I swear, could not adjust a quarrel more honourably. What say you, shall we go back now in peace and friendship to bring joy to the hearts of the ladies who are dying of fear ? Come, gentlemen, my sword is the first to be put up, look you." Somewhat sheepishly, the adversaries followed his example, to the amusement of the seconds, who would doubtless have acted with similar prudence had they been exposed to the risk of having to fight Captain Ravenshaw. The captain then took Master Burney and the little gentleman each by an arm, and started for the tavern, followed by the other two. The song of the three inns-of-court men returned to his mind, and he and the two fighters marched back to the ladies, singing at the top of their voices : " For three merry men, and three merry men, And three merry men we be." 7.ady Greensleeves folded the little gentleman in her arms till he grimaced with discomfort ; the brown beauty leaped up and clung around Master Burney's neck ; but, as she did so, she dangled be- hind his back a purse, in the face of Captain Raven- shaw, to whose hand she relinquished it a moment later. The captain stepped out into the passage, made sure that the purse really contained a handful 202 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. Of gold, and then fled down the stairs ere any but the brunette knew he was gone ^ pen?e'oft"' ""° ''' ""'^'^ "'^°"«'' ^" *»>e sus- pense of the women, now struck up a merry love tune, and Master Bumey bawled for a" awer to h^fhTcaT T' ''''-'"' '^ ""- ^^ heath of Captam Ravenshaw; but the captain was purse. ^ ^^^ '■"""'^ P'^^^* « the f but sus- love r to the was r to the "OnK liAMi GKVnCULATINi;, WHlt.K IHK OTHER Hbll.H .\h:\v-WKrnhN mam'script" CHAPTER XII. MASTER HOLYDAY IN FEAR AND TREMBLING. " If I know what to say to her now In the way of marriage, I'm no graduate." — A OiatliSfaiJi Chttt^uU. As Ravenshaw climbeti the narrow stairs to his room in darkness, he heard the voice of his fellow lodger in loud and continued denunciation. Won- dering at this, for the scholar was wont to speak little and never vehemently, the captain hastened his upward steps, thinking to rescue Master Holy- day from some quarrel with the landlord or other person. But when he burst into the chamber he found the poet alone, pacing the floor in the flicker- ing light of an expiring candle, his hair tumbled, his eyes wild, one hand gesticulating, while the other held his new-written manuscript. At sight of Ravenshaw the poet stopped short a' moment, then finished t e passage he had been spouting, dropped the manuscript on the table, and, coming back to the present with a kind of tired shiver, sank exhaustedly upon a joint stool. " Excellent ranting," said the captain, " and most suitable to what I have to say." He threw his hat 203 204 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. and sword-girdle on a bed in a corner of the room, filled and lighted a pipe of tobacco, and took up his stand before tt^e chimney as one who had weighty matters to propound. " How suitable ? " queried Master Holyday, with a languor consequent upon his long stretch of poetic fervour. " As thus," replied the captain, with a puff. " Your play there concerns the carrying away of a lady." " Of Helen by Paris ; yes. But that is only a little part — " "Tis a part that you have conducted properly and well, no doubt." "Why, without boasting, I profess some slight skill in these matters." " Well, now, look you. Your carrying away this lady in the spirit is well ; 'tis a fit preparation for your carrying away a lady in the flesh." Master Holyday broke off in the middle of a yawn and stared. " You shall carry away this goldsmith's daughter to- morrow night. Now mark how all is to be done — " "God's name, are you mad.'" cried the scholar, roused from his lassitude into a great astonishment. " No more mad than to have planned all this for the saving of that maid from dire calamities, and the making of your joy and fortune." " My joy ? " HOLYDAY IN FEAR AND TRE>aBLmG. 2O5 "Ay, indeed ; for to possess that aid — " "Oh, the maid — hang all maids!" exclaimed Holyday, with a kind of shudder, and falling into perturbation. " I'll none of 'em ! " " And as to your fortune, how often have you told me what welcome and comfort wait you at your father's house the day you come to him with a wife ? " "Wife!" echoed Master Holyday, and first paled with horror, and then gave forth a ghastly laugh. "Ay," said the captain, "and such a wife, your father will bless the day that made her his daughter ! E'en though she come without dov\.-y, he cannot choose but take her to his heart. Her father will not hold out for ever, perchance, when he finds her married to his old friend's son. But if he docs, she hath an uncle who is like to make her his heir, I take it. And so, man, there's an end to this beggary for you. And now mark what is to be done — " " No, no, no ! I have not the stomach for it. I have not ! " " We must be stirring early in the morning," went on the captain, " for all must be arranged ere I leave London at noon. And first, how you are to call upon the goldsmith's family, and secretly get the girl's consent." " Get her consent ! Never, never ! I'll do no wooing ; not I ! " 206 CAPTAIN KAVENSHAW. " Hy (jod, and you will that, and 'tis I that say so ! " The scholar looked wildly at the captain a mo- ment, then rose and made for the door, as if to escape a fearful doom. Ravenshaw quickly caught up the manuscript of the puppet-play, and held it ready to tear it across. The poet stoppec, with a sharp cry of alarm, and came back holding out his hand for the freshly covered sheets of paper. But the captain pushed him to a seat, and retained the manuscript. " I'll tear it into fifty pieces, and burn 'em before your face," said Ravenshaw, " if you listen not quietly to what you must do." Poor Holyday, keeping his eyes anxiously upon 'he precious work, gave a piteous groan, and sat limp and helpless. "At daybreak," began Ravenshaw, "we shall go together and bespeak the boat that shall carry you and the maid, and your attendants, down the river in the evening. It shall be your business lext to visit the goldsmith as if you came newly .0 London from your father in the country. Tell Master Etheridge you intend to marry a lady in Kent, and that you will be purchasing jewels and plate." " But, God's sake ! " objected the scholar, dismally, and as if he partly doubted the captain's sanity, IIOLVDAV IN hEAK AND TREURLING. 207 "have you not passed yourself off to him as mc? And how, then, will he believe that I am I ? " " Troth, I have been discovered to him as my true self." "Well, then, as he has been once imposed on, he will treat me as an impostor, too," urged Holyday, desperately ready to find impediments. " No, for if he makes any question, you need but stand upon your likeness to your mother. And then you can mention a thousand things that his memory must share with yours, where I could mention but the few you told me. And there was a mistake I made, saying it was a terrier that bit him in the leg the last time he was at your house, whereas it was a water-spaniel, as you had told me. If you speak of the spaniel biting him, you will prove your- tslf the true Holyday, and confirm it that I was a false one.' " Ne'ertheless," moaned the scholar, in despair at the whole matter, " 'twill seem a dubious thing, two men appearing within three days' time, both calling themselves Francis Holyday's son." " 'Tis easily made clear. Say that, travelling to London three days ago, you fell in with that rascal, Ravenshaw, but knew not what a knave he was. Say that he won upon your confidence, you being free of mistrust, so that you told him many things of yourself, and your intended marriage, and your pur- 308 CAPTA2N RAVENSllAW. pose in coming to London, and of Master Ethcridge. And say that you both took lodgings for the night at an inn in Southwark ; when you woke in the morning you found yourself ill, and two nights and a day had passed while you slept, so that Ravenshaw must have given you a draught in your wine, and gone to coun- terfeit you in the goldsmith's house, thinking to make some use of his freedom therein. Oh, they will swallow that without a sniff! And, look you, call me a thousand ill names, and say 'tis your dearest wish to kill the scurvy rogue that cozened you so." Holyday uttered a deep sigh, and shook his head lugubriously. "And note this," pursued Ravenshaw, "no word to any but the maid that she is the lady you came to marry. They are hot upon tying her to an old withered ass, a knight of Berkshire. That she may escape him, I have planned this good fortune for you ; but all must be done to-morrow, for he is already in town for the wedding, and there is another danger threatens her, too, if she tarries in London. So, when you have been admitted to the family, you must find, or cc.trive, some time alone with Mistress Millicent, and speedily open the matter to her." Holyday visibly trembled, and was the picture of woe. " Good God ! " he exclaimed : " how I shall tlOL YUA y IN PEAK A\D TKEMHLLWC. 2O9 find voice to speak to her, and words to say, I know not ! " "One thing will make all easy in a trice. Her Uncle Bartlemy, whom you know, would serve her an he saw the way ; and even to the last she has looked for some secret help from him. You shall therefore begin by saying you come from her Uncle Bartlemy, who bids her accept you as a husband. Say that his description of her beauty, and of her unhappy plight, hath so wrought upon your mind that you were deep in love ere you e'en saw her. And then say the reality so far outshines the descrip- tion, your love is a thousand times confirmed and multiplied. She cannot but believe you are from her uncle, knowing you live in his part of the country. After that, if you have time for a few love speeches of a poetical nature, such as, no doubt, this work is full of" (he held up the manuscript) — "Troth," said the poet, "'twere easier forme to write whole folios of love than speak a line of it to a real maid ! " " Oh, heart up, man ! " said Ravenshaw. " 'Twill be smooth sailing, once a start is made. But you will not have to say much. Your youth and figure will speak for you when she contrasts them with Sir Peregrine. In her present mind, any man were a sweet refuge from that old kex. I remember she said she would prefer ; good swordman ; tell her you aio CAPTAIN KAyENSIlAW. arc a gooti swordman, therefore. AntI then bid her meet you at her garden gate in Friday Street at dusk, ready for a journey. Not earlier, look you, for the men who will attend you may not be in waiting at the White Horse till sunset, and 'twere dangerous to miss them." The scholar breathed fast and hard, as if a burden were being forced upon him, under which he must surely faint, and his eyes roved about as if seeking a way of evasion. •' Now all this must be agreed upon betwixt you and the maid a full hour before noon," proceeded Ravenshaw, ■< so that you may come to me with the news ere I set out from London. I wish to go to my new affairs with an easy mind. The place I go to is not far from that to which you and the maid shal' go, and I will meet you in proper time. But take note of one thing. She is not to know that I have the least hand in this business ; if she d.^, she would not stir a step in it, for she abhors the very name of Ravenshaw. Therefore, when you are with her, if my name comes up, be sure you vilify me roundly." " I could vilify you now, for pushing me into this business ! " " Very like ; and think not to get out of it till it's done; for, mark well, I shall not be far from you while you are in the goldsmith's house. I shall /fOiy/uy IN l-EAK AXD TKEMHUNU. 211 Hring you in sight of the house, and shall wait in sight of it till you come out ; and if you come not out by eleven o'clock, and with word that all is planned, then, by these two hands, I know not what will happen I " The poor scholar shrank at the captain's fierce manner. "And now, for your flight and marriage," resumed Ravcnshaw, after an impressive pause ; and he set forth particulars as to their being joined by Cutting Tom and his .-.len, their taking boat, their trip down the river with the vantage of tide and moonlight, their landing at whatever point Holyday, in his knowledge of the country, should deem best. ■• You will then find your way as fast as may be," he con- tinued, " to the house of your friend Sir Nicholas, the parson. Prevail upon him to keep you hid there till he can marry you by license, which can be quickly had of the bishop's commissary of Rochester. Be- ing so much your friend, Sir Nicholas will wink at little shortcomings, — such as the consent of the girl's parents being omitted, and that of her friends sufficing. The maid can swear she is not precon- tracted ; there is truly no consanguinity, and for names to a bond, the parson can scrape up another besides your own. And so, safely tied, you shall bear her to your father's house, and defy the world." 212 CAPTAIN KAVENSIIAW. Master Holyday looked as if he fancied himself bound to the seat of a galley for life. "The parson must lodge your attendants till the next day," added Ravenshaw, "when I will come and dismiss them. Stable room will do. Belike I will sec you when I come ; but she must not set eyes on me. When all's done, you may tell her what you will. Her uncle will stand your friend, I think. And so, a rascal's blessing on you both ! " The poet was silent and miserable. But after a time he looked up, and, stretching forth his hand, said, in a supplicating way: "Give me back my puppet-play, then. 'Tis my masterwork, I think." " Vou shall have it back when you arc married," replied Ravenshaw, placing it carefully inside his doublet. Master Holyday groaned, as one who gives him- self up for lost. CHAPTER XIII. A KIOT IN CHEAPSIDE. " Dovm with them ! Cry clubs tor prcrlices : " — The Shoetitakcr's Holiday. Wan and tremulous, after a night of half-sk-ep varied by ominous dreams, Master Holyday was led by the captain, in the early morning, to the wharf where was to be found the waterman whom Raven- shaw knew he could trust. The scholar attended in a kind of dumb trance to the interview between Ravenshavv and the boatman, who was a powerful, leather-faced fellow, one that listened intently, scru- tinised keenly, and expressed himself in quick nods and short grunts. Even the unwonted sight of gold in the captain's hands did not stir the unhappy poet to more than a transient look of faint wonder. Ravenshaw pulled him by the sleeve to a cook's shop in Thames Street, but the wretched graduate had difficulty in gulping down his food, and scarce could have told whether it was hot pork pie or cold pease porridge. It went differently with the ale which the captain caused to be set before them after- ward. Holyday poured this down his throat with 214 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. feverish avidity, and pushed forth his pot for more. At last Ravenshaw, considering it time for the gold- smith's family to be up, grasped his companion firmly by the crook of the arm, and said, curtly : " Come ! " The poor scholar, limp and sinking, turned gray in the face, and went forth with the look of a prisoner dragged to execution. The captain had to exert force to keep him from lagging behind, as the two went northward through Bread Street. They stopped once, to buy a cheap sword, scabbard, and hanger ; which Holyday dreamily suffered the shopman to attach to his girdle. Nearing Cheapsidc, the doomed bachelor hung back more and more, and when finally they turned into that thoroughfare, his face all terror, he suddenly jerked from Ravenshaw's hold, and made a bolt toward Comhill. But the captain, giving chase, caught him by the collar, in front of Bow church, seized his neck as in a vice, turned him about toward the goldsmith's house, took a tighter hold of his arm, and impelled him relentlessly forward. From his affrighted eyes, ashen cheeks, and dragging gait, people in the street supposed he was being taken to Newgate prison by a queen's officer. "Now, look you," said the captain, with grim earnestness, as they approached Master Etheridge's shop, " I durst not go too near the place. I shall /t RIOT m C/IEAPSWE. 215 leave you in a moment; but I shall go over the way, and take my post behind the cross, where I can watch the house in safety. Mark this : my hand shall be upon my sword-hilt, and if you try flight, or come forth unsuccessful, you shall find yourself as dead a poet as Virgil — what though I swing for you, I care not ! Come forth not later than the stroke of eleven ; walk toward the Poultry, and I will join you. Keep me not waiting, or, by this hand — Go ; and remember ! " He gave the scholar a parting push, and strode across the street ; a few seconds later he was peering around the corner of the cross, and Master Holyday was lurching into the goldsmith's shop. The shop, as has been said, extended back to where a passage separated it from domestic regions of the house ; but ic was, itself, in two parts, —a front part, open to the street, and a more private part, where the master usually stayed, with his most valuable wares. In entering the outer shop, Holyday had to pass the end of a case, at which a flat-capped, snub-nosed, solid-bodied apprentice was arranging gold cups, chains, and trinkets. "What is't you lack?" demanded this youth, squaring up to the scholar. "God knows," thought Holyday. "My wits, I think." And then he found voice to say that he desired speech of Master Etheridge. 2l6 CAPTAIN KAVENSIIAW. The shopman pointed to the open door loading to the farther apartment, and thither Ilolyday went. The place was mamly lighted by a side window ; the poet could not fail to distinguish the master, by his rich cloth doublet and air of authority, from the journeymen who sat working upon shining pieces of plate. " What is it you lack, sir ? " inquired Master Etheridge. "Sir," replied Holyday, in a small, trembling voice, "I must pray you, bear with me if I speak wildly. I am sick from a sleeping-drug that a villain abused me with three days ago, — one Captain Ravenshaw — " At this name the goldsmith, who had received elaborate accounts from Sir Peregrine of last night's incident in the garden, suddenly warmed out of his air of coldness and distrust, and began to show a sympathetic curiosity which made it easier for Holy- day to proceed with his tale. When the scholar announced who he was, the goldsmith lapsed for a moment into a hard incredulity ; but th'? passed away as Holyday, not daring to stop now that he had so good an impetus, deftly alluded to his father, — "whom, they say, I scarce resemble, being all my mother in face," quoth he parenthetically, — and hoped that Master Etheridge had forgiven him his water-spaniel's bite the last time the two had met. A K/OT IN CUE A PS IDE. 217 "Aha! I knew it was a water-spaniel," said Master Etheridge, triumphantly. "The rogue would have it a terrier." This hasty speech required that the goldsmith should relate how the impostor had played upon him and his household ; at which news Master Holyday had to open his eyes, and feign great astonishment and indignation. He found this kind of acting easier than he had supposed, and was beginning to feel like a live, normal creature ; when suddenly his mind was brought back to the real task • before him by Master Etheridge, saying : "Well, the rascal failed of his purpose here, whatever it was ; and now 'twill please the women to see the true after the counterfeit. This way, pray — what, art so ill .' Tom, Dickon, hold him up ! " " Nay, I can walk, I thank ye," said poor Holyday, faintly, and accompanied his host into the passage, and up the stairs to the large room overlooking Cheapside. No one being there, the goldsmith went elsewhere in search of his wife, leaving the scholar to a discomfiting solitude. He gazed oi . of the window at the cross, and fancied he saw the edge of a hat-brim that he knew, protruding from the other side. He cursed the hour when he had fallen in with Ravenshaw, and wished an earthquake might swallow the goldsmith's house. When he heard Master Etheridge returning, and the swish of a feminine gown, he felt that the awful 3l8 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. moment had come. But it was only the goldsmith's wife, and she proved such a motherly person that he found it quite tolerable to sit answering her ques- tions. Presently Mastei Etheridge was called down to the shop, and his wife had some sewing brought to her, at which she set to work, keeping up with Holyday a conversation oft broken by many long pauses. Each time the door opened, the scholar trembled for fear Mistress Millicent would enter. But as time passed and she came not, a new fear assailed him, — that he might not be able to see her at all, and that the dread stroke of eleven should bring some catas- trophe not to be imagined. He was now as anxious for her arrival on the scene as he had iirst dreaded it. His heart went up to his throat when the door opened again ; and down to his shoes when it let in nobody but Sir Peregrine Medway. The old knight inspected Holyday for a moment with the curiosity due to genuine ware after one has been imposed upon by spurious; and then he dropped the youth from attention as a person of no consequence, and asked for Mistress Millicent. "Troth," said Mistress Etheridge, "the baggage must needs be keeping her bed two hours or so ; said she was not well. She has missed her lesson on the virginals. I know not what ails her of late. I'm sure 'twas not so with me when I was toward mar- A K/Or IN CHEAPSIDE. 219 riage, — but she sha'n't mope longer in her chamber. Lettice ! " she called, going to the door, and gave orders to the woman. Holyday breathed fast, and stared at the door. After a short while Millicent entered, with pouting lips, crimson cheeks, and angry eyes; she came forward in a reluctant way, and submitted to the tremulous embrace of the old knight. Not until she was free of his shaking arms did she take note of Master Holyday, and then she looked at him with the faintest sign of inquiry. As for the scholar, a single glance had given him a sweeping sense of her beauty ; daunted by it, he had dropped his eyes, and he dared not raise them from the tips of her neatly shod feet, which showed themselves beneath the cuitain of her pink petticoat. "'Tis my daughter, Master Holyday," said Mis- tress Etheridge, "and soon to be Sir Peregrine's lady." Holyday bowed vaguely at the pretty shoes, and cast a vacuous smile upon the old knight. " What, another Master Holyday .' " said Millicent, in an ironical manner suited to her perverse mood. " The true one," replied her mother ; " that rogue cozened him as he did us. Well, 'twas a lesson, Master Holyday, not to prate of your affairs to strangers." " The rogue shall pay for giving me the lesson," ventured Holyday, bracing himself to play his part. 320 CAPTAIN RAVENSIIAW. Mistress Millicent looked as if she doubted this. " I know he is a much-vaunted swordiiian," added Holyday, catching her expression ; " but I have some acquaintance with steel weapons myself." His small, unnatural voice was at such variance with his words, that Millicent looked amused as well as doubting. He felt he was not getting on well, and was for sinking into despair ; but the thought of Ravenshaw waiting behind the cross, hand on hilt, acted as a goad, and raised the wretched poet to a desperate alertness. Master Etheridge came in, holding out his hollowed palm. At sight of its contents Mistress Millicent turned pale, and caught the back of a chair. Sir Peregrine bent his eyes over them gloatingly, and took them up in his lean fingers. " The wedding-ring, sooth," he said. " Good lack, 'twas speedy work, father. But which of the two is it?" "Which you choose," replied the goldsmith. "They are like as twins. I had the two made to the same measurement ; 'tis so small, one of them will be a pretty thing to keep in the shop for show. Belike there may be another bride's finger in London 'twill fit." "Troth now, my first wife had just such another finger," said the knight. " 1 know not which to take; 'tis a pity both cannot be used." A RIOT IN CIIEAPSIDE. 221 Master Holyclay was siuli!'-iily inspired with an impish thought, the very ccicrption of which brought courage with it. " An you please, Master Etheridgc," he said, " the lady I wish to marry hath such another hand, in size, as your sweet daughter here can boast of. It were a pleasant thing, now, an I might buy one of these rings." "Nay, by my knighthood," quoth Sir Peregrine, with a burst of that magniloquent gc others ran around to attack him from behind But with a swift turn he was threatening these, and they sprang away to save themselves. Ere they could recover, he was around again to face the renewed oncoming of the first two. But now through the surgmg crowd, forcing their way with shouts and prods, came apprentices from the neighbouring shops, in quick obedience to the cry of "Clubs" Ravenshaw was hemmed in on all quarters. By a swift rush in one direction, a swift turn in another a swift side thrust of his rapier in a third, a swift slash of his dagger in a fourth, he contrived to make every side of him so dangerous that each menacing foe would fall back ere coming into good striking distance. ° He had once thought of backing against the cross, so that his enemies might not completely encircle him ; but he perceived in time that they could then fling their clubs at him without risk of hitting any one else. As it was, the first club hurled at his head, being safely dodged, struck one of the thrower's ovvn comrades beyond ; a second one. too high thrown, landed among some women in the crowd, who set up an angry screaming; and a third had the fate of the first. Some clubs were then aimed lower, but as many missed the captain as met him, and those that met him were seemingly of no more effect than if 234 CAPTAIN RAVENSUAW. they had been sausages. As those who threw their clubs had them to seek, and knew their short knives to be useless except at closer quarters than they dared come to, the apprentices abandoned throwing, and tried for a chance of striking him from behind. But he seemed to be all front, so unexpected were his turns, so sudden his rushes. Had any of his foes continued engaging his attention till a simultaneous onslaught could be made from all sides, he had been done for ; but this would have meant death to those that faced him, and not a rascal of the yelling pack was equal to the sacrifice. So they menaced him all around, approaching, retreating, running hither and thither for a better point of attack. But the man seemed to have four faces, eight hands ; steel seemed to radiate from him. They attempted to strike down his sword-point, but were never quick enough. With set teeth, fast breath, glowing eyes, he thrust, and turned, and darted, maintaining around him a magic circle, into which it was death to set foot. Well he knew that he could not keep this up for long ; the very pressure of the growing crowd of his foes must presently sweep the circle in upon him, and though he might kill three or four, or a dozeni in the end he must fall beneath a rain of blows. And what then .' Well, a fighting man must die some day, and the madness of combat makes death a trifle. But who would be at London Bridge before A RIOT tff CIlEArSlDE. 235 noon to pay Cutting Tom, and what would becume of all his well-wrought designs to save the maid, her whose contumely against him it would be sweet to repay by securing her happiness? To do some good for somebody, as a slight balance against his rascally, worthless life — this had been a new dream of his. He cast a look toward the gold- smith's house. She was now at the window, with her mother and Sir Peregrine, and she gazed down with a kind of self-accusing horror, as if fright- ened at the storm she had raised. God, could he but carry out his purpose yet ! His eyes clouded for an instant ; then he took a deep breath, and coolly surveyed his foes. More apprentices struggled through the crowd. Their cries, thrown back by the projecting gables of the houses, were hoarse and implacable. Pushed from behind, a wave of the human sea of Raven- shaw's enemies was flung close to him. He thrust out, and ran his point through a shoulder ; instantly withdrawing his blade, he sprang toward another advancing group, and opened a great red gash in the foremost face. A fierce howl of rage went up, and even from the spectators came the fierce cry, " Down with Ravenshaw ! death to the rascal ! " Maddened, he plunged his weapons into the heaving bundles of flesh that closed in upon him, while at last the storm of clubs beat upon his head and body. The roar \\\ '1 aa5 CAPTAIN RAVENSllAW. against him ceased not ; it was all " Death to him ! " Not a voice was for him, not a look showed pity, not a — " Ravenshaw I Ravenshaw I Tapsters for Raven- shaw I " What cry was this, from the narrow mouth of Friday Street, a cry fresh and shrill, and audible above the hoarse rbar of the crowd ? Everybody turned to look. Some among the apprentices, tav- ern-lads themselves, stood surprised, and then, seeing Tony and his fellow drawers from the White Horse beating a way through the crowd with clubs and pewter pots, promptly took up the cry, "Tapsters for Ravenshaw!" and fell to belabouring the shop apprentices around them. The new shout was echoed from the corner of Bread Street, as a troop of pot-boys from the Mermaid, apprised by a back- yard messenger from the White Horse, came upon the scene. The prospect of a more general fight, against weapons similar to their own, acted like magic upon Ravenshaw's a ailants. Those who were not disabled turned as one man, to crack heads more numerous and easier to get at. Ravenshaw, with an exultant bound of the heart, made a final rush, upsetting all before him, for the goldsmith's shop ; ran through to the passage, turned and gained the door leading to the garden, dashed forward and across the turf, unfastened the gate, and plunged A RIOT IN CHEAPSWE. 237 down Friday Street with all the breath left in him. A few of the apprentices pursued him into the shop, knocking over a case of jewelry and small plate as they crowded forward. The goldsmith, appalled at the danger of loss and damage, flung himself upon them to drive them back. Those who got to the passage ran straight on through to the kitchen, instead of deviating to the garden door. After a search, they observed the latter. But by that time Captain Ravenshaw, registering an inward vow in favour of Tony and all tapsters, and knowing that the fight must soon die out harm- lessly in the more ordinary phase it had taken, was dragging his aching body down Watling Street to meet Cutting Tom at London Bridge. "A fit farewell to London," said he to himself. "The town will deem itself well rid of a rascal, I ttow." CHAPTER XIV. JERNINOHAM SEES THE WAY TO HIS DESIRK. " Sunili the wind tht™, boy F Knp Uicm In Ihat key, Tli« wtnch la oun before lo-morruw day." — Tha Mtrry Dniil (,/ KJnuMan. Master Jerningham, upon setting Gregory to dog the steps of Ravenshaw, had made all haste from the Temple Church to Deptford, where he passed the afternoon in busy superintendence, and where he lay that night. But whether at work, or in the vain attitude of sleep, he housed a furnace within him, the signs of which about his haggard eyes were terrible to see, to the experienced observation of Sir Clement Ermsby when that gentleman greeted him upon the deck of the anchored ship in the morning. "Death of my life, man! thou hast the look of Bedlam in thy face. And thou wert formerly the man of rock! The wench is not to be thine, then?" "She is, or I am to be the devil's!" replied Jerningham. "But we sail to-morrow. Or do we not?" >38 JRKNINCHAM SEES Tllh WA V J39 "Ay, wc sail to-morrow. Is not the bishop to come and bid us Godspeed, and see us lift anchor ? But the maid shall sail with us." " Oho ! Without her consent ? " " I cannot wait for that longer. I have been some time coming to this mind ; in bed last night I resolved upon my course. Unless my man Gregory hath, by some marvel, put the matter forward in the mean- time, I will take a band of those Wapping rascals " (he nodded toward some of his sailors who were drawing up casks alongside, singing at the work) "to the goldsmith's house to-night, force an upper window, and carry her off, though murder be done to accomplish it. We sail to-morrow ; the deed will not be traced till we are far afloat, if ever." " 'Twill be luck if you get her safe from the house. Will you bring her straight to the ship, for the bishop to find when he comes to bless our venture ? " " I am not yet a parish fool. I will take her by boat to Blackwall ; the Dutchman there will lock her up in his inn over night. To-morrow, when the bishop has seen us sail, we shall but round the Isle of Dogs, and then lay to at Blackwall and fetch the maid. A sleeping draught will make easy handling of her, and we can bring her aboard in a sack. Then ho for the seas, and the island; we shall set up our own kingdom there, I trow." "If we might give the bishop the slip, and not 240 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. tarry for his prayers, you'd be spared trusting the Dutchman." " Oh, he thrives by keeping secrets ; he is a safe, honest rogue. I durst not give the bishop the slip ; he would be so fain to know the reason, he would send post to the warden of the Cinque Ports ; and we should have a pinnace alongside as we came into the narrow seas. Especially as he would have heard of this maid's kidnapping. Such news flies." " You were not always wont to be so wary ; you think of every possibility." " I have been warned, in my fortune, of an obstacle at the last hour. I must be watchful." " Well, God reward your vigilance, and your enter- prise with the wench," said Sir Clement, lightly. He would face anything, and yet cared little for anything, save when a whim possessed him. Jerningham returned to Winchester House by horse, in good time before noon, to see Ravenshaw set out for the Grange, and to receive Gregory's report of the captain's doings. Dismissing the servant who opened the gate at which he arrived, Jerningham tied his horse just within the entrance, and waited. He would be much disappointed if the captain came not, for he could not help thinking that the success of his proj- ect would be the less uncertain, the farther from London that man should be. If news of the maid's JEKNIKGHAM SEES THE WA Y. 241 disappearance reached Ravcnshaw's ears ere the ship was away beyond recall, things might go ill, for Ravenshaw knew whom to suspect. But to the lonely Grange, half-way between main road and river, reached by a solitary lane that led nowhere else, visited by no one, news never found its way. Once lodged there, Ravenshaw would stay till he gave up hope of receiving the further instructions which Jer- ningham had said he would send ; and by that time Jerningham and the maid would be far beyond the swaggering captain's sword and his roar. The only fear was that Ravenshaw might have caught Gregory dogging him, and have thrown over the stewardship. But at length a quick step was heard, there was a tapping at the gate, Jerningham drew it open, and the captain stood before him. "Well, you have kept your word. Here is the horse." •' A trim beast," quoth Ravenshaw, looking at the animal with approval, and not failing to note the good quality of the saddle. " He will scarce have a trim rider," said Jerning- ham, staring at Ravenshaw's face and clothing. " You look as if one horse had already thrown you. What's the matter .' " " Oh, there has been a riot, which I must needs leave, that I might not be late with you," said Raven- shaw, carelessly. 242 CAPTAIN KAVENSHAW. The two gazed at each other a moment in silence, as they had done at a former interview. Jerningham looked for any sign of Ravenshaw's having detected Gregory's espionage, and found none. Ravenshaw waited for Jerningham to mention Gregory's en- counter with him in the goldsmith's garden, assuming that Gregory must have reported it the previous night. It was not for Ravenshaw to introduce the subject ; so it was not introduced at all, and the captain mounted the horse. "You remember all I told you yesterday, no doubt?" said Jerningham. "Touching the place you are going to, I mean." " Yes ; I shall find it easily enough. Ay, four o'clock, I know. And particular instructions will come in a few days. I can wait for instructions while provisions last. But one thing — a steward's chain — good gold, look you ! " " It shall be of the best," replied Jerningham, with his strange smile. "When it comes," he said to himself, as the captain rode out of the gate. And the captain was saying to himself: " Either his knave has not told him, or he counts it of no matter. Ten to one, from his look, he is forging some plot against her ; but she will be safe from all plots this time to-morrow, I think." And he headed his horse for the Canterbury road. Jerningham went to his own chamber in Win- JERNINGHAM SEES THE IVAY. 243 Chester House, a fair room looking toward the church of St. Mary Overie. He had not been there a quarter of an hour, when to him came Gregory, dusty and tired, but eager-eyed. " What news ? " inquired the master, with simulated coldness. " An't please you, sir, I have stuck to his heels since you bade me. Twice they led me to that gold- smith's house." " Ah ! What happened there .' Make short telling of it, knave ! " " The first time was last night. The maid talked with him alone in the garden, I could not hear what they said, until she called him by the name of Holy- day." " A false name. The rascal ! — then he has his plot, too ! " " Ay, sir ; and, thinking to nip it in the bud, I came forth and denounced him to her, saying he was Ravenshaw. Belike he spoke of it to you awhile ago." " Go on. What did the maid then t " "She spurned him as he were kennel mud, and he came away like a whipped hound. But I had already given him the slip, to save my skin." "I'roth, then, all betwixt her and him must have come to naught." " So one would think. And yet — But you must 244 CAFTAIN KAVENSHAW. know that I still dogged him, to carry out your full command. He kept me waiting outside many tav- erns, but at last vvent into a house in Smithfield which I took to be his lodging for the night, lie- thinking me of the danger if he chanced to see me by daylight, I went to a friend of mine in that neighbourhood — a horse-stealer, if truth must be told— and borrowed a false beard and a country- man's russet coat. In these I followed the man when he set forth at daybreak with his companion, that lean young gentleman you saw with him in Paul's." "Oh, fewer words. What hath the lean young gentleman to do — .'" "Much, I trow, an it please you. The end of their goiag about was, that the lean companion, under some pressure from the captain, went to the goldsmith's house, while the captain waited behind the cross in Cheapside, e'en as I waited at the corner of Milk Street." Gregory then described the occurrences in front of the goldsmith's shop. What to think of the fight between Ravenshaw and the scholar, he knew not, whether it marked a falling out between them or was part of a plot. Jemingham was of opinion it was part of a plot. The serving-man told of Raven • shaw's flight into the shop from the apprentices. " They that ran after him," he continued, " came out presently, saying he must have fled by the back JEKNINGIIAM SEKS THE WAY. 245 way. I pushed through to Friday Street, and saw the gate indeed open. Methought he would now fain come to you, for shelter and protection ; and so I started hither. And lo! at t'other end of London Bridge, whom did I set eyes on but my captain, counting over money to another fellow of his own kind, but more scurvy. I kept out of sight till they parted, and then, while the captain crossed the bridge, I accosted the scurvy fellow and said there was one would deal with him as fairly as the captain had, if he chose." " Well, well, and what said he .' " " He was for killing me, at first, but the end of it was that he is now waiting for a word with you yonder at the bridge. We have seen the captain ride away, and all is safe. I took off my beard and russet gown in the lane without, and hid them in the stable." And the faithful rascal, with bowed head, watched narrowly for the look of approval to which he felt entitled. "You have done well, Gregory; and you shall eat, drink, and sleep, to pay for your abstinence, — but first come to the bridge and show me this man. And remember, if my Lord Bishop's servants are inquisitive, you lay at Deptford last night, as I did." A few minutes later Master Jerningham was in converse with Cutting Tom at the Southwark end of London Bridge, beneath the gate tower, on top 246 CAPTAIN RAVENSIIAW. of which was a forest of poles crowned with the weatherbeaten heads of traitors. " Oh, but sell secrets, that is too much ! " Cutting Tom was saying, in an injured tone. " A poor sol- dier hath little but his honour. Belike I am ill- favoured with wounds, and ragged with poverty through serving my country, but my honour, sir! my trust ! my loyalty ! Troth, 'tis mine only jewel, and if I sold it — well, I should want a good price, and there's the hell of it ! " But even when a price was fixed, Cutting Tom, dazzled on one side by his lifetime's chance of obtaining so excellent a patron, on the other side fearful of Ravenshaw's vengeance, temporised and mumbled and held back, until Jemingham assured him of protection and of Ravenshaw's long absence from London. The rascal then told all he knew of what was planned to be carried out that night. Jemingham listened with apparent passivity, though at the last he averted his eyes lest his ex- ultation should gleam out of them. Here was all trouble, all desperate and well-nigh impossible ven- turing, made needless on his part. He studied the matter for a minute, and then said, musingly : "His companion and a maid — the White Horse — 'tis the nearest tavern — sooth, there can be no question it is shs. Look you, sirrah, I must know to what place they are bound." JEKNlffGlrAM SEES THE WAY. 247 "I would I knew. 'Tis somcwhcro on tho Kent- ish side of the river." "What, would the rascal dare? — think you 'tis the place he is now riding to .' " "He said he would be in the neighbourhood of our destination, and he would come to-morrow to pay and dismiss us." "If he is to come to you to-morrow, it cannot be to the Grange, — he will be there already. He knows more of that neighbourhood than he would have me think ; he used the name Holyday — there's a Holyday family in that country. Well, I know not ; but 'tis certain you will be near my house of Marshleigh Grange." A grim smile flitted over Jerninghara's face, as he saw another difficulty removed — for he could now dispense with the use of the Dutch innkeeper at Blackwall, and with the risk of putting his captive aboard from so public a place. " Now mark," said he, while he held Cutting Tom with fixed eyes, "you will indeed have four men with you when you meet the gentleman and maid at the White Horse ; but one of those four shall be a man I will send there betimes. You will easily know him ; he is the man that brought you to see me. His beard, you must know, is false, and you will warn your men ; else, detecting it, they might snatch it oft in mirth. Without disguise, he would 248 CAPTAIN KAVENSIIAW. be known to the maid and gentleman, — then our business were undone. And so, to the journey." Proceeding, he gave orders full and concise, to which Cutting Tom lent the best attention of his cunning mind. Then, being curtly dismissed, the rascal, between elation at his great windfall, and per- turbation at the temerity of betraying Captain Ravcn- shaw, shambled off through the darkish lane that the rows of high shop-houses made of London Bridge. . Master Jerningham, returning to Winchester House, was rejoined by Gregory at the place where the serving-man had waited. " You have five hours wherein to fill your stomach and sleep ; and then you must be off upon a night's work that shall make you your own man, if it turn out well." The yealous hound, a little staggered at the open- ing words of this announcement, took fresh life at its conclusion, rmd looked with new-lightcd eyes tor commands. Having given these with the utmost particularity, Jerningham presented hims'-'f, in all docility and humbleness, to the bishop in the latter's study, where he made a careful tale of his readiness for sailing on the morrow. He then took horse for Deptford ; upon arriving, he related his good fortune, and set forth his new plan to Sir Clement Ermsby, on the deck of the ship. jF.RffrNairA.\r sees the ir.i r. -M9 " Rut how at the Grange, man, if Kavt-nshaw bo there ? " Sir Clement asked. " I shall go there betimes, and send him straight upon some errand — some three aays' journey that will not wait for daylight." " He will think it curiously sudden. Besides, if he thinks to meet and pay his men in that neigh- bourhood to-morrow, he will not be for any three days' journey to-night." " Most men will defer paying money, when their interests require. I can but try sending him." " And if he refuse to stir ? What will you then ? " " Kill him ! There will be enough of us, in good sooth." "Ay, no doubt," acquiesced Sir Clement, care- lessly. " Methinks the weather bodes a change,' he added, looking at the sky. " It may rain to-night." "Rain or shine, storm or fair," replied Master Jerningham, his eyes aglow, " I feel it within me, this is the night shall give me my desire." CHAPTER XV. RAVENSHAW I-AI.I.S ASI.EKP. "Thoo li„t. I |„. „„,|,i„, bu, „, ,],|„^ And my cluihei, my ■word h.r., ud mynU." - Tk, Sn I'tttp. Captain Ravenshaw headed his horse for the Canterbury road, and. having soon left the town behind him, began to feel a pleasant content in the sunlight and soft air. The fresh green of spring, the flowers of May, the glad twitter of birds, met his senses on every side. Never since his boyhood had the sight and smell of hawthorn been more sweet He conceived he had, for once, earned the right to enjoy so fair a day. He was tired and bruised, but he looked forward to rest upon his arrival. Peace comparative solitude, country ease, seemed so invit- >ng that he had not a regret for the town he left behmd. His road, at the first, was that which Chaucer's pilgrims had traversed blithely toward Canterbury He had a few villages to ride through, clustered about gray churches, anjl drowsy in the spring sun- shine; a few towered and turreted castles, a few gabled farmhouses, to pass in sight of. But for the ' Si IHJtM.Y TIU. N.-'kRO-.V WAY llK^l>KK IIIM IlKlAME KAI-ENSIIAW FAI.IS ASLEEP. 251 most part hi» way was by grcenwiKnl and field and common, up and down the guntle inclines, -mA across the pleasant levels, of the wavy Kcntih . cuuntry Often it was a narrow aisle through (• i-:, witu great trunks for pillars, and leafy boi;.i In p, iitcci arches, and here and there a yellow i)ia,,;i ivh. ,. the green leaves left an opening foi sunli:;h;. . .nd then it trailed over open heath dotted w.'n sihtiry trees or little clumps, and along fields enclose J Ly green hedgerows. It was a good road for ' ! ,1 time, wide enough for two riders to pass each other with- out giving cause for quarrel; ditchlikc, uneven, rutted, here so stony that a horse would stumble, there so soft that a horse would sini- deep at each step. Ravenshaw had already turned out of the Canter- bury road to the left, and was passing from a heath into a thick copse, when suddenly the narrow way before him became blocked with human creatures, or what seemed rather the remnants of human crea- tures, that limped out from among the trees at the sides. He drew in his horse quickly to avoid riding over any one, while the newcomers thronffcd about him with outstretched palms and whining cries: "Save your good worship, one little drop of money I " "A small piece of silver, for the love of God I " " Pity for a ^m maimed soldier ! " 252 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW. "A few pence to buy bread, kind gentleman!" " Charity for the lame and blind ! " " Peace, peace, peace ! " cried the captain. " What be these the greenwood vomits up ? Hath the forest made a dinner of men, and cast up the pieces it could not stomach ? " Pieces of men in truth they looked, and of two women also. All were i.. rags ; the men had un- kempt beards and hair ; those that did not go upon crutches showed white eyes, or an empty sleeve, or great livid sores upon face and naked breast, or dis- coloured bandages ; one of the women, fat and hoarse- voiced, went upon a single leg and a crutch ; tlio other woman, a gaunt hag, petitioned with one skinny hand, and pointed with the other to her colourless eyeballs. " Let go ; I am in haste ; I have no money," said Ravenshaw, for one of the men — a white-bearded old fellow poised on his only foot — had taken firm hold of the bridle near the horse's mouth. But, so far from the man's letting go, some of his companions seized upon Ravenshaw's ankles, and the chorus of whines waxed louder and more urgent. With his free hand he reached for his dagger ; but the lean woman, having already possessed herself of the handle, drew it from the sheath ere he knew what she was doing. He clapped his other hand to his sword-hilt; but his fingers closed around the two SAVENSnAlV FAI.T./; ASLEEP. 253 hands of a dwarf on a man's shoulders, win, had grasped the hilt, and who now thrust his head for- ward and caught the captain's knuckles between his jaws. "Oho!" exclaimed Ravenshaw, changing to a jovial manner. " I see I have walked into Beggars' Bush. Well, friends, I pray you believe me, I am a man wrung dry by war and ill fortune, and little less a beggar than any of ye. I have chanced upon a slight service will keep my body and soul together; if I lose time here I shall lose that. I have nothing but my weapons, which I need in my profession, and my clothes, which would not serve you in yours. The horse I require for my necessary haste, and — " "He lies, he lies!" shrieked the lean hag, strik- ing the pocket of Ravenshaw's breeches. " Hearken to the chinking lour ! A handful ! " "A piece of gold for a poor maimed soldier!" cried the white-bearded man, whipping out a pistol from his wide breeches, whereupon other of the rogues brandished truncheons and staves. At sight of the clubs, Ravenshaw made a wry face, and his bruised body seemed to plead with him. He had one hand free, with which he might have seized the dwarf's neck, but he thought best to use it for hold- ing the rein and guarding his pocket. " Ay, there's money in the pocket," he said ; " but I spoke truth when I s.iid I had none. This is not 254 CAPTAIS' RAl'fUVSHAW, iiiiiie ; 'tis another man's, to whom I must pay it to-morrow." " Let the other man give us charity, then ! " cried the fat woman. " Ay, we'd as lief have another man's money as yours," said the white-bearded rogue, aiming the pistol. The lean hag tried to force her hand into Ravenshaw's pocket, and men caught his clothing by the hooks at the ends of their staves. " Nay, maunderers ! " cried Ravenshaw ; " shall not a gentry cove that cuts ben whids, and hath respect for the salamon, pass upon the pad but ye would be foisting and angling .' " — "Marry, you can cant," said the white-bearded beggar, his manner changing to one of approval, which spread at once to his associates. "As ben pedlar's French as any clapperdudgeon of ye all," replied the captain. " Belike you are a prigger of prancers," said the beggar, looking at the horse. " No, my upright man, a poor gentry cuffin, as I have said, but one that hath passed many a night out- of-doors, and now fallen into a little poor service that I am like to forfeit by my delay. As for the lour in my pocket, I am a forsworn man if I deliver it not to-morrow. So I beg, in the name of all the maun- ders I have stoo