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CAPTAIN 1AVENSHAW

" ll'I'KK WAS I.XLI.A.N,;i.: nf I Hkl'ST AM) I'AKRV '
Frotitisiiiet't;

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW

THE MAID OF CHEAPSIDE

A ROMANCE OF ELIZABETHAN LONDON

ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS

AUTHOR OF

"Philip Wiawmd,

" "^(^"■"'"•^n Player," "AnEmmy„,UKi„g:
t.tc., Etc. '

ILLUSTRATED BY

HOWARD PYLE

AND OTHERS

" Jfaitf him, i-waggtring ratct, ' '

—Kilt Ilnry ly,, p,^i ,1

TORONTO
THE COPP, CLARK COMPANY, LIMITED

C3?-
ex

Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, {n the year one thousand
nine hundred and one, Ity Tin Corp. Clark Cohfakt. Liiutid, Toronto, Ontario,
in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture.

CONTENTS.

CHAFTBK

I. Men op Desperate Fortunes

II. Disturbers of the Night .

HI. Master Jerningham's Madness

IV. The Art of Roaring.

V. Penniless Companions

VI. Revenge Upon Womankind

VII. Mistress Millicent .

VIII. Sir Peregrine Medway

IX. The Praise of Innocence .

X. In the Goldsmith's Garden

XI. The Rascal Employs His Wits

XII. Master Holyday in Fear and Trembling

XIII. A Riot in Cheapside

XIV. Jerningham Sees the Way to His Desire
XV. Ravenshaw Falls Asleep.

XVI. The Poet as a Man of Action

XVII. Dire Things Befall in the Forest

XVIII. Ravenshaw's Sleep Is Interrupted

XIX. Knave Against Gentleman

XX. Holydav's Further Adventures

XXI. The Captain Forswears Swaggering

35
57
79
95

107

"9
133
"47
167
183
203
213
238
250
260
273
28s
304
338
352

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

"Tkere was exchange of thrust and parry'
('upagijjj)

"She led me but a short chase'"

Fronthpiece
60

'"Sir, I thank you tor what you did that night'"
" Bade his visitor be seated upon a stone bench, and
faced her sullenly "

"One hand gesticulating, while the other held his

new-written manuscript"
••Suddenly the narrow way before him became

blocked WITH HUMAN creatures"

"There . . . was the maid of Cheapside, pale and
bewildered"

128

'53

303

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

CHAPTER I.

MEN OF DESPERATE FORTUNES.

'* Though my hard fate has thrust me out to servitude,
1 tumbled into th' world a gentleman." — The CkangtUng.

It was long past curfew, yet Captain Ravenshaw
still tarried in the front room of the Windmill tav-
ern, in the Old Jewry. With him were some young
gentlemen, at whose cost he had been drinking
throughout the afternoon. For their boi .y, he
had paid with the satirical conversation fo. v,hich
he was famed, as well as with richly embellished
anecdotes of his campaigns. Late in the evening,
the company had been joined by a young gallant
who had previously sent them, from another cham-
ber, a quantity of Rhenish wine. This newcomer
now ordered supper for the party, a proceedii.-r at
which the captain dissembled his long-deferred pleas-
ure — for he had not eaten since the dav before.
Moreover, besides the prospect of supper, there was
this to hold him at the tavern : he knew not where

CAPTAW KAVENSUAW.

he should look for a bed nr ct, i.

The uncertainty was at!' """" '"''"« ''•

black and windy'a'iht' """"^""■°" "^" ^

with a rather scornful silel Buf ri"' "^^^

-nwho^theLr-r^rtir--^'

Pla2^CLro::"'"^^"°^-^-'-^e fire-
in. there was a !« Ttn'r^ ^^" '''°"^'''
middle of the rol Th °"^ '^'''^ '" '"e

■--. striding irand?o ;s;ir: '""'/^'^

was first to be seated aTd TT\ ""' ^° ''^
"Pon his elbows. hTseenS" "'' '°'"^'''

share of the tabll H Tl '' '"°''^ '''^" ''^

anasserti::::::;,!-"-;^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

eyes accustomed to flash with a deZ. "' T'
ance. a firm mouth inured to '^'^■'"'"'y-'^are defi-
derision. His rebelir k ""^^ °^ ^^'^°"'-

-hes. and ;i::e?brrd':::re'T"^^^^^^ '"°"^-

hue. He was a n,, / ^ ''^"'^ ''^"wn

-rd-be, LwL 1 ;L^:°^ '^^■■^''' ■• "^'^ 'he
broadened out well o7 chV. ^T ' ""''^' ''^

MEN OF DESPERATE FORTUNES. 13

allic. He was under thirty, but rough experience
had hardened his visage to an older look. His
jerkin, shirt, hose, shoes, and ruff also betokened
much and severe usage.

Master Vallance, in spotless velvet doublet and
breeches, and perfectly clean silk stockings, looked
at him with contemptuous dislike.

"Take heed you scorch not the capon with your
nose, r )aring Ravenshaw," said the youth, quietly.

It was not Ravenshaw's habit to resent allusions
to his character as a "roaring boy;" indeed he en-
couraged the popular idea which saddled him with
that title, at that time applied to bullies of the
taverns. But some circumstance of the moment,
perhaps something in the young coxcomb's air of
aristocratic ridicule, guided the epithet to a sensitive
spot.

"Captain Ravenshaw, by your leave," he said,
instantly, in a loud tone, with an ironical show of
a petitioner's deference.

" Forsooth, yes ; a captain of the suburbs," replied
the young gentleman, with a more pronounced sneer.

Now at this time — toward the end of the reign
of Queen Elizabeth — and for a long time after, cer-
tain of the suburbs of London were inhabited numer-
ously by people of ill repute. There were, especially,
women whom the law sometimes took in hand and
sent to the Bridewell to break chalk, or treated to a

CAPTAIN KAVEffSUAW.

pubhc nde m a cart, as targets for rotten vegetables,
addled eggs and such projectiles. Many an unem
ploy«l sold.c-. or bully who called himself soldier,
would bestow, or impose, his protection upon some
one of these f..-d, creatures in the time of L pr^s

Ho?' T^T '""" •"" '•"= ""^^ "' "velihood.
Hence d.d Ravenshaw sec in the title of "captain

o 'llT. " """ ""'■= '"" ^han lay in that
Of Apple-John." or •■ Apple-squire." itself

When a gentleman calls another by the name of a

bad thmg. .t .s not necessarily implied that he thinks

the other .s that thing; but it is certain that he

means to be defiantly offensive. Therefore, in this

^^' N r^T"'' ^"' "'" "°' '° ^'-y- ''« to re-
sent. Not only must he keep up his reputation with

but he really was m a towering rage at being bearded
w.th easy temerity by such a youngling.

"What I" quoth he. "Thou sprig! Thy wits
are strayed away, methinks. Or has thy nurse been
teaching thee to use a pert tongue f "

"Nay, save your own tongue for the tasting of

iZ^J '^ -'y -'^- Vour reputation

"Why. thou saucy boy. I may not spit butterflies

thei;::;-"^'™""^ ^'"^'""^^ ^^«'-« *'>-

The captain fini.,hed with a shrug of vexation.

MKN OF DESrEKATF. FORTUNES.

"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

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

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-

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

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

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

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.

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."

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.

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<l, I fared well enough, as long as I kept
the captainship my friend had got me ere the woman
played me false. A score of things have happened
to bring me to this pass. My braggadocio, ofttimes
enforceil with deeds, hath neither helped nor hin-

JO CAPTAIN KAVENSIIAW.

dcrcd my downfall ; It hatl. stood iiic in good stead
in fair times and foul. I'ish, man, but for my repu-
tation, and the fear of my enmity or violence, could
I have run up such scores at taverns as I have done,
being penniless? Mow often have I roared dicing
fools, and card-playing asses, out of the stakes when
they had fairly won 'em ? Could any but a man who
has made himself feared do such things, and keep
out of Newgate or at least the Counter i' the Poultry
here ? "

" Why, is not that rank robbery, sir ? "
"Yes, sir, and rank filling o. ny empty stomach.
Tut, scholar, you have been hungry yourself ; roof-
less, too. Be so as oft as I have been, and with as
small chance of mending matters, and I'll give a
cracked three farthings for what virtue is left in you.
Boy, boy, hast thou yet to learn what a troublesome
comrade thy belly is, in time of poverty ? What a
leader into temptation .' Am I, who was once a gen-
tleman, a rascal as well as a brawler .' Yes, I am a
rasc.-il. So be it ; and the more beholden I to my
rascality when it find mc a dinner, or a warm place
to sleep o' nights. Would it might serve us now.
Who are these a-coming .' "

Some dark figures were approaching from up the
Old Jewry, attended by two fellows bearing links, for
the moonlight was not to be relied upon. The figures
came arm in arm, at a blithe but unsteady gait, sway-

A/tM OF DESPEKATE fOKTU.VI-S.

ing and plunging. Presently the captain recognised
the gentlemen who had been his afternoon compan-
ions at the sign of the Windmill. Uut Master Val-
lance was not with them, having doubtless taken
lodging at one of the inns near the tavern. The
sparks, jubilant with their wine, no sooner made out
the captain's form than they hailed him heartily.

" What, old war boy ! " cried Master May'ands, a
spruce and bold young exquisite. " Well met, well
met I Hey, gentles, we'll make a night on't. Cap-
tain, you shall captain us, captain ! "

" Ay, you shall captain us about the town," put in
Master Hawes, WnO spoke shrilly, and with a lisp,
for which he would have been admired had it been
affected, but for which he was often ridiculed because
it was natural. " You shall teach us to roar as loud
as you do. What say you, gallants ? Shall we go to
school to him to learn roaring ? He is the master
swaggerer of all that ever swaggered."

The proposal was received with noisy approval, the
roysterers gathering around the captain where he
sat, and grasping him by the sleeves to draw him
along with them.

" Softly, gentlemen, softly," said the captain. " Ye
seem of a mind here. But do you consider ? There
is much I might impart, in the practice of swag-
gering. Would you in good sooth have me for a
tutor?"

CAPTAIN RAVEiVSirAW.

There was a chorus of affirmative protestation.

The captain thought it politic to urge a scruple.

" But bethink yc," quoth he, "to be a true swag-
gerer is no child's play. And you are of delicate
rearing, all; meant to play lutes in ladies' cham-
bers ; court buds, gallants."

" Why, then," said Maylands, " we shall be gallants
and swaggerers, too ; an you make swaggerers of us,
we will make a gallant of you, will we not, boys .' "

" Nay," replied Ravenshaw, " I have been a gallant
in my time, and need but the clothes to be one again ;
and so does my friend here, who is a gentleman and
a scholar, though out of favour with fortune. Now
there be many tricks in the swaggering trade; the
choice of oaths is alone a subtle study, and that is
but one branch of many. I'll not be any man's
schoolmaster for nothing."

"Faith, man, who asks it.'" cried Master May-
lands. "We'll pay you. For an earnest, take my
cloak; my doublet is thick." He flung the rich
broadcloth garment over the captain's uncloaked
shoulders. " You need but the clothes to be a gal-
lant again .' 'Fore God, I believe it ! Tom Hawes,
I've cloaked him ; you doublet him. Barter your
doublet for his jerkin ; your claak will hide it for the
night ; you've a score of doublets a. home."

Master Maylands, in his zeal, fell upon the unob-
jecting Hawes, and in a trice had helped to eftert the

MEi-f OF DESPERATE FORTUNES.

trnr,<;'cr, the captain feigning a helpless compliance
in the hands of his insistent benefactors. It occurred
to another of the youths, Master Clarington, to ex-
change his jewelled German cap of velvet for Ravcn-
shaw's ragged felt hat ; whereupon Master Daunccy,
not to be outdone, would have had his breeches
untrussed by his link-boy, to bestow upon the cap-
tain, but that the captain himself interposed on the
score of the cold weather.

" But I'll take it as kindly of you," said Raven-
shaw, "if you should have a cloak for my scholar
iriend. How say you, Master Holyday? Thou'lt
be one of us.' Thou'lt be a swaggering gallant,
too .' "

Master Holyday, inwardly thanking his stars for
the benevolent impulse which had made him share
the fowl, and so elicit this gratitude, would have
agreed to anything under the moon (except to woo
a woman) for the sake of warmer clothes.

" Yes, sir," said he, with his wonted studious gravity
of manner; "if these gentlemen will be so gracious."

The gentlemen were readily so gracious. After
a few rapid exchanges, which they treated as a great
piece of mirth, they beheld the scholar also cloaked
and richly doubleted and hatted. He wore his fine
garments with a greater sense of their comfort than
of his improved appearance, yet with a somewhat
pleasant scholastic grace.

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

The captain strutted a little way down the street,
to enjoy the effect of his new cloak; but, as he
stepped into Cheapside, the moon was clouded, and
he could no longer see the garment tailing out finely
over his sword behind. A distant sound of plodding
feet made him look westward in Cheapside, and he
saw a few dim lanterns approaching from afar.

" Lads, the watch is coming," said he. " Shall we
tarry here, and be challenged for night-walkers ? "

" Marry," quoth Master Maylands, leaping forward
to the c.ptain's side, "we shall take our first lesson
in swaggering now; we shall beat the watch."

" As good a piece of swaggering gallantry as any,"
said the captain. " Come, my hearts ! "

And he led the way along Cheapside toward the
approaching watchmen.

CHAPTER II.

DISTURBERS OF THE NIGHT.

" I will have the wench."

•• II you cin gel her."- Th, Ccxccmb.

The captain gave instructions, as he and his pupils
strode forward. The two boys with the Hghts were
left behind to take shelter in a porch, so that the
peace-breakers might advance in the greater dark-
ness. It was enough for their purpose that they
had the lanterns of the watch to guide them.

The watchmen came trudging on in ranks rf two.
Presently there could be heard, from somewhere
among them, a voice of lamentation, protest, and
pleading, with a sound of one stumbling against
sundry ill-set paving-stones of the street.

"They have a prisoner," said the captain to his
followers. " We'll make a rescue of this. Remem-
ber, lads, no swords to be used on these dotards;
but do as I've told ye."

In another moment, and just when the watchmen

seemed about to halt for consideration, but before

their leader had made up his mind to cry. "Stand !"

the captain shouted, "Now, boys, now; a rescue!

CAPTAIN RA'-ENSHAW.

a rescue ! " and the roysterers rushed forward with a
chorus of whoops.

The watch, composed for the most part of old
men, had scarce time to huddle into a compact form
when the gallants were upon them. The assailants,
keeping up their shouting, made to seize the watch-
men's bills, with which to belabo':r them about their
heads and shoulders. One or two were success-
ful in this; but others found their intended vic-
tims too quick, and were themselves the recipients
of blows. These unfortunate ones, bearing in mind
the captain's directions, essayed to snatch away lan-
terns, and to retaliate upon the watchmen's skulls ;
and whoever failed in this, rushed to close quarters,
grasped an opponent's beard, and hung on with all
weight and strength.

The captain's operations were directed against the
pair who had immediate charge of the prisoner. Pos-
sessing himself of the bill of one, whom, by the same
act, he caused to lose balance and topple over, he
obtained the other's voluntary retreat by a gentle
poke in the paunch. The prisoner himself proved
to be a man of years, and of port ; he had a fat,
innocent face, and he showed, by his dress and every
other sign that became visible when the captain held
up a lantern before him, to be a gentleman. What
such a guileless, well-fed old person could have done
to fall afoul of the night-watch, Captain Ravenshaw

n/SrC/RBEKS OF THE NIGHT. 37

could not imagine. For tlie time, the old person's
astonishment and relief at being set free were too
great to permit his speaking.

Meanwhile, Master Holyday. having been the last
to come up, found the mel& so .suddenly precipitated,
and so complete without his intrusion, that he stood
back lookmg for a convenient place and time for him
o plunge mto it. But it seemed impossible for him
to penetrate the edge of the scuffle, or to connect
himself w:th .t in any effective way. So he hung
upon the skirts; until at last two of the watchmen!
bemg simultaneously minded for flight, bore down
upon him from out of the hurly-burly. He instinc
tively threw out his arms to stay their going ; where-
upon he found himself grappled with on either side
and from that instant he had so much to do himseU
that he lost all observation of the main conflict. Nor
had the other fighters any knowledge of this side
matter. But their own sport was over ere their wind
was out; the watchmen, being mainly of shorter
breath and gre.cer prudence than their antagonists,
on fol Wd the example of flight ; and the gallants
soberer by sundry aches, smarts, and bruises, were left
masters of the field. None of the watch was too much
battered to be able to scamper off toward the Poultry
"A piece of good luck, sir," began Captain Raven-
shaw, to the released prisoner, around whom the
gallants assembled while they compared knocks and

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

trophies. " You had been scurvUy lodged this night,

else."

"Sirs, I thank ye," replied the old gentleman, find-
ing at last his voice, though it was the mildest of
voices at best. He was still shaky from having been
so recently in great fright ; but he gathered force as
his gratitude grew with his clearer sense of escape.
" God wot, I am much beholden to ye. You know
not what you have saved me from."

'• To say truth, a lousy hole behind an iron grat-
ing were no pleasant place for one of your quality,"
said Ravenshaw.

"Oh, 'tis not that so much, though 'twere bad
enough," said the gentleman, with a shudder. " 'Tis
the lifetime of blame that would have followed when
my wife had heard of it. You must know, sirs, I am
a country gentleman, and I am not known to be in
London ; my detention would be noised about, and
when it reached my wife's ears — 'sfoot, sirs, I am
for ever your debtor in thankfulness!" And he
looked his meaning most fervently.

" Why did the watch take you up ? " inquired the
captain.

" Why, for nothing but being abroad in the streets.
The plaguey rascals said I was a night-walker, and
that I behaved suspiciously. I did nothing but stand
and wait at the Standard yonder, for one I had agreed
to meet ; but when I saw the watch coming I stepped

D/STURBERS OF THE NIGHT.

back, to be out of their lantern-light. This stepping
back, they said, proved I was a rogue ; and so ihcy
clapped hands on me, and fetched me along. But
now I bethink me, sirs : the person I was to meet —
what will she do an she find me not at the place.'"
The old gentleman showed a reawakened distress,
and, turning toward the direction whence the watch
had brought him, looked wistfully and yet reluctantly
into the darkness.

"Oho! She!" quoth the captain. "No wonder
your wife — "

" Nay, think no harm, I beg. Nay, nay, good sirs !
Sure, 'tis an evil-thinking world. Well, I must e'en
bid ye good night, and leave ye my best thanks.
Would I might some day repay you this courtesy.
My name, sirs— but no, an ye'll pardon me, I durst
not ; the very stones might hear it, and report I was
in London. But if I might know — "

" Surely. We have no wives in the country, that
we must keep our doings from, have we, boys .> 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.

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.

" 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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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."

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.

" 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

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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,

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?

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.

"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

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

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.

"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.

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

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 '

his shop

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

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

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."

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

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

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 .' "

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.

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

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.

a graduate th<Te. But, seeing me in these clothes
instead of in black, the justice thought the ' Sir ' was
of knighthood, not of scholarship. And so he said
he could make nothing out of the watchmen's stories,
which agreed not. I then addressed him respect-
fully in Latin; and, lest it might be seen that he
did not understand me, he got rid of me forthwith."
"We'll drink his health — but not yet. Whilo I
have money to show, we'll bespeak lodgings, and so
make sure of sleeping in-doors, for a week o' nights,
come what may. These clothes will get us curtseys

and smiles from any hostess — except them that

have already lodged me."

" Ay, we are fine enough above the waist, but our

poor legs and feet are sorry company for our upper

halves."

"Why, we must see to that when we meet our

four asses again. Meanwhile our cloaks will cover

us to the knees, and if we carry our heads high

enough, nobody will dare look scornful at our feet.

Remember, wc are gallants while these clothes last ■

swaggering gallants, that give the wall to no man.

And while we go seek lodgings, I'll tell thee how

thou shalt earn thy share of these coxcombs' wast-

ings. Hast ever travelled abroad .' "

"No," said the scholar, falling into the captain's

stride as the pair went westward.

"No matter. Thou hast read books of other

CAPTAIN KAVENSIIAW.

countries, and heard travellers tell of foreign
cities ? "

"Yes; I've read and heard much; and remem-
bered some of it."

"Then bear in mind, you are a great traveller.
Your gentleman that hath not been abroad is
counted a poor thing among gallants. Now these
four silken gulls have never been out of ICnglunil,
and they look sheepish whene'er a travelled man
talks of France or Italy in their company. They
would give much to pass for travelled {.'allants ; to
talk of French fashions and Italian vices without
e.Nposing their inexperience. You shall instru( 'em,
so they may fool others as you fool them. I'll
broach the matter softly, and in such a way that
they shall see the value of it. Thus, while you fill
'em up with tales of the foreign cities you have seen,
we shall eat and drink at their cost. And so we
shall hold 'em when they be tired of the swaggering
lessons I mean to give 'em."

" Well, I will do my best. What I don't know,
I will e'en supply by invention. My stomach will
inspire me, I trust."

They took lodgings at the top of a house in St.
Lawrence Lane, not far from its Cheapside end ; and
passed the time in walking about the streets till near
noon, when they went to dinner at an ordinary where
long tables were crowded with men of different de-

THE ART OF KOAKlffc. g,

grees, who dined abu.ulantly and cheaply. The two
companions finally repaired to the Windmill tavern
where they had to wait an hour before their young
gentlemen appeared.

The four were now sober, and showed hardly as
much rehsh m meeting the captain as he might have
WLshed. They cast somewhat rueful glances at the
clothes they had given away in their vinous generos-
ity, and which they had now replaced with other
articles suitable to their quality. They manifested
no eagerness for lessons in swaggering, and seemed
at first to have forgotten any understanding they
may ave formed with the captain in regard thereto
«ut Ravenshaw was prepared for this apathy.
He took the risk of inviting the gentlemen to drink,
and with the air of an accustomed host he bowed
them into the room to which a tapster directed him.
He trusted they would be of different mood when
the time to pay the score should come

wafm!'.".?""'""'^' "' " '"' °' "^<= ^^P'^'"'=' »«'".
wa med them up to some enthusiasm for his society •

and .n an hour he had them urging him to proceed

straightway to their further education in the art of

roanng. After some reluctance and some unwilling-

ness to believe that their proposal of the previous

mght had been serious, he was persuaded to consent.

With the faintest grimace of triumph, for the eyes of

Master Ifolyday alone, who smoked a pipe temper-

MmOCOfY DESOIUTION TEST CHAIT

(ANSI ond ISO TEST CHART No. 21

^ APPLIED IN/HGE

'663 East Mam Stre

CAPTAIN RAVENSIIAW.

ately by the fire, he rose and began by illustrating
how your true bully should " take the wall " of any
man about to pass him in the street.

The arras-hung partition of the room served as a
street wall. The captain started at one end, Master
Dauncey at the other. When the two met at the
middle, the instructor enacted an elaborate scene of
disputing the right to pass next the wall and so avoid
the mud of the mid-street. He showed how to plant
the feet, how to look fierce, how to finger the sword-
hilt, what gestures to make ; then what speeches to
use, first of ironical courtesy, then of picturesque
abuse, finally of daunting threat. Master Holy-
day, looking on from the fireplace, was amazed to
see how much art could be displayed in what had
ever seemed to him quite a simple matter. The
captain went through every possible stage short of
sword-thrusts ; but there he stopped, saying that
roaring ended where real fighting began.

" If your man has not given way by this time," said
he, " and you think he may be your better with the
weapons, the next thing is to come gracefully out
of the quarrel, by some jest or other shift. This
is what many swaggering boys do, out of fear. When
I do it myself, 'tis because I would avoid bloodshed,
or out of mercy to my antagonist. But 'tis, in any
case, a most important thing in the art of swaggering ;
I shall give examples of it in my next lesson."

THE ART OF AOAA'/.VG.

He then caused the gallants, in pairs, to go
through such a scene as he had enacted. They
made a foolish, perfunctory business of it at first,
though he schooled them at every moment in atti-
tude, gesture, or look, and supplied them with terms
of revilement that made the scholar stare in admira-
tion, and sanguinary threats before which a timid
man might well tremble in his shoes.

It would not do to carry his pupils too far forward
at a step ; he must keep them dependent upon him
as long as possible. Nor was it safe to tire them
with repetitions. So he put an end to the lesson in
good time ; and then, to hold them for the rest of
the day, he set forth the possibility of their learning
to pass as men that had travelled abroad. Master
Holyday, while modestly admitting the extent of his
wanderings in foreign countries, showed some disin-
clination to the task of imparting the observations
he had made.

"For, look ye," quoth he, "I once had a gossip
whom I was wont to tell of things I had seen abroad
Like yourselves, he had never crossed the narrow
seas ; but by noting carefully my talk, he was able
to make other people think he had travelled as far
as I. There was one thing I had told him, which I
had chanced to forget afterward. A dispute nrose
betwixt us one day. before company that knew not
either of us well, touching certain customs in Venice.

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

By my not mentioning the thing I had forgot, and
by his parading i; as a matter well known, which
others in the company knew to be the case, I was
made a laughing-stock, and he got reputation as a
great traveller. And to this day he keeps that
reputation, all at my expense."

This ingenious speech brought the desired insist-
ence ; and that very afternoon was begun, at Ant-
werp, an imaginary journey through the chief cities
of Europe, in which were seen many things more
astonishing than any foreign traveller had ever
observed before.

It took several evenings to go through Flanders
and France, and would have taken more, but that,
after the gallants had satisfied their curiosity regard-
ing Paris, they were in haste to arrive in Italy as
soon as might be. Italy was then the great play-
ground of English t^-avellers ; the fashions came from
there, so did the inspiration to art and literature ;
the French got their cookery and their vices from
Italy ; the English imported some of the vices, but
not the cookery.

While the scholar led his four charges from city
to city by routes often unusual and som es impos-
sible, Captain Ravenshaw conducted th .1 stage by
stage toward proficiency in swaggering. He showed
them how differently to bully their betters, their
equals, their inferiors ; how to bully before company,

THE ART OF ROAKINC.

how without witnesses, how in the presence of ladies ;
how to overbear in every situation, from a simple
jostle in the street to a dispute about a woman ; how
to meet a contradiction in argument, how to give and
receive every degree of the lie, how to intimidate a
winner out of the stakes at a gaming-table ; and
finally how, when the opponent was not to be talked
down, either to slip out of a fight or to carry one
through.

The progress of the four would-be bullies in
their fireside travels, and their swaggering education,
was accompanied by further improvement in the
dress of their instructors. At last the soldier and
hi. .end were able to go clad in breeches, stockings,
shoes, shirts, ruffs, and gloves, quite worthy of the
cloaks, doublets, and hats they had previously re-
ceived. The four young gentlemen were now eager
to try their new accomplishments about the town.
The captain postponed the test as long as he could ;
but finally their impatience was so peremptory that
he had to consent.

Now the captain knew that if his four apes should
make a failure of their first attempt at swaggering,
his favour with them were swiftly ruined ; conversely,
a success would warrant his demanding a substantial
reward in money. Thus far his only payment, and
Master Holyday's likewise, had been in the shape of
dinners, suppers, tobacco, and clothes. The two had

CAPTAIN KAVENSIIAW.

been compelled, from time to time, to put off pay-
ment for their lodgings, and to temporise with their
laundress ; and now their hostess's face wore a more
and more inquiring look each morning as they went
out. Ravenshaw had, it was true, obtained a little
coin in the card-playing and dicing, by means of
which he had illustrated to his pupils the uses of
roaring in those pastimes. But this amount, small
enough, he decided to lay out in ensuring the de-
sired success of his coxcombs in their first bullying
exhibition.

He therefore made a sudden and secret excursion
to the suburbs beyond Newgate. After searching
the 1 iwer taverns and ale-houses about Holborn and
Smithfield, he found, in a cookshop in Pye Corner,
a man with whom he forthwith entered into negotia-
tion. This man was a burly, middle-aged fellow,
with a broken nose, a scarred cheek, a sullen attitude,
and a husky voice. While he talked, he frequently
spat in the rusfies that covered the floor ; and now
and again he would finish a remark with the words,
added without the least sense, " And that's the hell
of it." He wore a dirty leather jerkin over other
clothes, and his attire was little better than Raven-
shaw's had been before his change of fortune.

After some talk, Captain Ravenshaw handed over
some money to this man, promised a further sum
upon the issue of the business, received the bravo's

THE AA-T OF KOAKING.

assurance that all should go well, and hastcnwl
back alone to me* t his companions at the sign of
the Windmill.

It was evening when the party sallied forth, the
four coxcombs as keen for riot as ever was a colt lor
kicking up heels in a field. They would have barred
the street against the first comers, or sought a brawl
in the first tavern, but that Ravcnshaw bade them
save their mettle for adversaries worthy of their
schooling.

" I mean to pit ye 'gainst the first roarers of the
suburbs," said he. " Nothing short of the kings of
Tumbull Street shall suffice ye, lads. What think
ye of Cutting Tom himself .' I know where he and
his comrades take their supper nowadays. Save
your breath for such ; an ye roar them down in
their own haunts, it shall be heard of. Waste no
wind upon citizens or spruce gallants. Strike high,
win supremacy at the first trial, and you are made
men."

With such counsel he restrained them until he had
led them through Smithfield to Cow Cross, near the
town's edge.

Like a bent arm, lying northwestward along the
fields toward Clerkenwell, was the narrow lane of
ramshackle houses called Tumbull Street. Leaving
his followers, the captain went into one of these
houses. He soon came back.

CAPTAIN KAVENSIIAW.

" 'Tis excellent," said he. " Cutting Tom and his
friends arc in the front room at the top o' the stairs.
They are feasting it with the hostess and some of
her gossips. You four shall go up and claim the
room by right of superior quality. Master Ilolyday
and I will stay below in talk with the bar-boy so
they sha'n't know I'm with you ; but if need be, call
me."

"Nay, we shall want no help," said Master May-
lands ; but the quaver of his voice belied his show
of confidence.

"Tis well," replied Ravenshaw. "A rare thing
to roar these braggarts from their own table, before
the womankind of their own acquaintance ! Come."

A minute later the four sparks, huddled close to-
gether, and with white faces, thrust themselves into
an ill-plastered r jm where four vil'ainous-looking
fellows and as- many painted women sat at table.
These people suddenly ceased their loud talk and
coarse laughter, and one of them, — the broken-nosed
rascal with whom Ravenshaw had that day conversed
in the cook-shop — demanded thunderously:

" Death and furies ! Who the devil be these .' "

" Your bet .ers, bottle-ale rogue ! " cried May lands,
somewhat shrilly, and like an actor in a play.

" Betters ! " bellowed the broken-nosed man, rising
to his feet. '• Plagues, curses, and damnations I
Does the dog live that says ' betters ' to me .' I air.

THE ART OF KOAK/XG.

lojii.

called Cutting Tom, thou bubble ! — Cutting
and that's tlic hell of it ! "

"An you be called Cutting Tom," .cplied May-
lands, taking a little courage I'rom the sound of liis
own voice, "'tis plain you are called so for the cuts
you have received, not given. 'I'he wounds in your
dirty face come not from war, but from bottles
thrown by h.istcsses you've cheated. Out of this
room, dog-face ! — you and your scurvy crew.
'Twould take a forest of juniper to sweeten the place
while you're in it. You are not fit for the presence
of such handsome ladies."

"A gentleman of spirit," whispered one of the
ladies, audibly.

"What, ihou froth, thou vapour, thou fume!"
roared Cutting Tom. "Avaunt! ere I slick you
with my dagger and hang you up by the love-lock at
a butcher's stall for veal."

" Hence, thou slave," retorted Maylands, " thou
pick-purse, thou horse-stealer, thou contami.iation,
thou conglomeration of all plagues — ! "

" Thou bundle of refuse ! " put in Master Hawcs.

"Thou heap of mud! " added Master Dauncey.

" Thou filth out of the street-ditch ! " cr'ed Master
Clarington.

Meanwhile the women had scampered to the fire-
place for safety. Cutting Tom's three comrades had
found their feet, and they now joined their voices to

02 CAFTAW llAyF.Xr//,liy.

his in a chorus of abuse, dcfiaiuc, and threat;
they beat the tabic fcarsoinely with their sheathed
swords. In turn, the young gciulomcn half-drew
their blades and then pushed them violently back
again, and trod angrily upon the rushes. Cutting
Tom's party had all got to that side of the table
farther from the door. The four intruders therefore
advanced to the table, and with terrible words be-
laboured their adversaries across it.

"A step more," cried Cutting Tom, banging his
sword handle upon the table, "and I'll spit y:!"

"And roast ye after at the fire!" said one of his
men.

The gallants showed that they could rattle their
hilts upon the innocent board as fiercely.

"Out of the room," shouted Maylands, "ere we
pin ye to the wall and set dogs on ye ! "

This was but the beginning of the contest, which
soon attained a scurrility too shocking, not for Eliza-
bethan ears, but for these pages. Meanwhile, Raven-
shaw and Holyday waited below. At last a noise
%vas heard in the passage above, and the four ill-
favoured fellows came bounding down the stairs.
Three of them left the house at once, but Cutting
Tom, seeing that the gallants did not follow, stopped
to whisper with the captain.

" 'Twas good as a play," quoth he. " We held our
own awhile, as you bade. Then we let 'em overbear

Tlir. ART OF KOAKIJVC.

us, and at last wc foi;;iic(l siiih fear tlioy said they'll
c'cn make us tie tiicir shoos. • They're tied already,'
quoth I. ' Then untie 'em,' said they. Wc untied
'em ; and then they'd have us depart a-crawling on
our hands and knees; and ro we left 'em, on all
fours; and that's the hell of it ! 1 thuu^ht the
women would have burst a-laughing."

" Here's the rest of the money," said Ravenshaw,
parting with his last coin. " Now vanish, and come
not here again this night, or you'll have me to
answer ! "

Cutting Tom examined the money by the candle-
lit and went his way with a grunt.

" So far, good," said Ravenshaw, chuckli.ig. " Our
young cocks will think themselves the prime swaj;-
gerers of Christendom."

" Until they come upon the truth," said Holyday.
"The next men they meet, they'll be for bullying;
and then they're not like to come off as well."

"But they shall meet no men this night. The
ladies above will keep 'em here till they be too sleepy
with wine for any desire of roaring. We'll see 'em
safe home, and to-morrow at dinner I'll ply 'em for a
fat remuneiacion. When that's in our pockets, they
may learn the truth and go hang. We'll hire a page
to attend us, and we'll live iike gentlemen. We're
lucky to have found 'em constant so long. Come ;
we'll up to them, as if we happened in."

CAI rA/.V KAl'ENSIIAW.

" Nay, not I, where there be women."

" Oh, i)layuc, man, you'll not be Iuhk bashful afore

these trollops ! " And he pulled the unwilling scholar

after bini by the arm.

CMAITKR V.

rF.NMI.KS.S tOMI'ANKlNS.

" I walk in grtal lUnRer ol iimall debts. I »wc moi

ey lo Mvenl hostciMS."

The next day, after dinner, finding the four iliipcs
much puffed up with imagined valour as he had
.lOped, Ravenshaw put forward the matter of a fit
reward. That they might more freely consider, he
left them for half an hour, taking Holyday with
him.

"Troth," began Master Hawes, when the four
were alone, " I think we have bestowed somewhat al-
ready upon these two. If they arc pressed for money,
why don't they pawn some of the clothes we've given
'em .' "

" They consider they must be well clad to go in
our company," said Clarington.

"If it comes to that," said Maylands, "wc can
dispense with 'em. We roared down this Cutting
Tom and his TurnbuU rangers, why should we be
still beholden to this captain .' "

"And we've learned as much of t'other one's
travels as we're like to remember," adtled Dauncey.
95

CAPT.i/X RA VENSIfA IK

" Let them go hang far any more gifts ! " said
Maylands.

" Will you tell them so ? " queried Hawcs.
" Faith, yes ! An we can roar down four Turn-
bull rangers, can we not roar down this one captain ?
He has taught us all he knows himself."

"Yet I would not have him think us stingy," said
Hawes, who, as he was stingy, was sensitive as to
being thought so.

" Why, look you," replied Maylands. " When they
come back, I'll say we'll satisfy 'em, touching a gift
of money, ere the day be done. Then, presently,
we'll find some occasion in their talk for a quarrel.
Thereupon, we'll roar 'em down, and so break with
'em."

The occasion arrived when Master Holyday was in
the midst of a wonderfully imagined tale of travel.
He told how he had escaped from Barbary pirates in
the Mediterranean, and swum ashore to the harbour
of — Fez!

"What, man.>" 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.

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.

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<c 'cm, I bid yc,
or — And now, whelps, you've got what's yours.
Than'c God, the sword and dagger are my own ! My
weapo IS may go naked while my body does. Vanish,
with yo jr gifts ! 1 scorn ye ! "

His voice and looks were such that the four gen-
tlemen thought best to obey. Hastily entrusting the
captain's cast raiment to the footman and page, who
closely followed them, they pushed through the grin-
ning crowd that had witnessed the scene ; and the
captain was left in his shirt and breeches, with his
sword and dagger in his hands, to the amused gaze
of the assembly, and the somewhat rueful contempla-
tion of Master Holyday.

CIIAPTF.R VI.

REVF.NOF. L'l'ON WOMANKIND.

"(itt me acceiift In th' I.aily Ik-lvulfre,
But lor a minuli;." — H 'amtn I'U'HtJ.

Among newcomers who at that moment pressed
forward to see what was the matter, were Master
Jerningham and Sir Clement Ermsby. Followed by
Gregory and the page, they had but then entered
the church upon the quest we know of. Uy standing
upon their toes, they got a view of the half-nalcid
man. At the same time they heard the name,
" Roaring Ravenshaw," passed about.

" Ravenshaw ? " said ICrmsby to his friend. " So
'tis. And your very man."

" What, for such an affair ? A swaggering cast
soldier ? "

" Ay, indeed. The last man in the world to be
suspected in your particular case."

" But can he compass it ? "

" Trust these brawlers, these livers by their wits,
for a thousand shifts. They get their bread by
tricks."

" But will he undertake it ? "
107

108

CAPTAIN RAVKKSll.lW.

"For pay? bxik at him."
"Hut he was her cliainpiou that night."
"A mere show, to cross us. Should they know
each other again, 'twill gain him her con(nlence the
sooner. Go ; make use of his prLsent need."
" Shall you come with me ? "
"lie might remember me as his adversary that
night, lie saw you not well enough to recognise
you. Ijetter he shouldn't know you arc my fiicnd.
I'll be gone, ere he sec us together. Meet mc at
Horn's ordinary when you have done with him. To
him straight."

lieckoning his page, Sir Clement hastened from
the church, while Jerningham, with Gregory at his
heels, elbowed imperiously forward till he was face
to face with the captain. Ravenshaw had, in the
meantime, been bandying jests with the crowd,
though inwardly wondering what he should do
next.

"When a soldier of your ability comes to this
plight," said Jerningham, in a courtoiis, kindly tone,
"'lis plain the fault's not so ...uch his own as it is
the world's."

Ravenshaw gazed at the speaker; manifestly
without recognition.

"Sir," said the captain, "whatever faults the world
hath done mc, I dare yet put my dagger to the
world's throat, and cry 'Deliver!'"

KKyKXCF. r-ro.V IVOMAXK/X/).

IO<)

"Still tho swa„^'cicr," (|iiiitli Jiiiiinj;li.iin, with
his soft smilu.

" ICvcr the swaggerer," replied Kaveiishaw. " 'Tis
my policy. This craven world will );ive nothing out
of love or pity ; 'twill give only out ol fear ; and so
I bully out of it a living."

Jerningham went close to him, ami spike in
tones not to be heard by the crowd, wliicli pres-
ently, seeing that no more anuisemciit was to
be afforded, began to melt into the usual stream
of saunterers.

" I take it," said Jerningham, " you are as good at
cozening as at bullying."

" I am not siich a coward as to deny it. There he
some so tame, t^o fiend couldn't find it in his heart
to bully them ; .a the same time, their lack of wit
must needs tempt me to cozen them."

"You have a persuasive speech at will, too, I see."

" Seest thou .' "

"Look you: I could mend your fortunes if you
could persuade, or cozen, or bully, to a certain end
for me."

"Prove you'll mend my fortunes, nd I'm your
man," said the captain, jumping at the .lopc.

Jerningham regarded him for a moment thought-
fully, then said :

"I'orhaps I'd best prove it first, ere I tell you
what service I require."

IIO

CAPTATX KA VF.NSHA W.

" I care not what the service is. Anything that a
man can do, I can do."

"And will do.'"

"And will do — if it be not too black. I'll not
murder."

"Oh, the business has no murder in it. Here's
proof I'll mend your fortune — all such proof that
is in my purse, as you see. Meet me here after
dinner, dressed so as not to draw everybody's eyes
upon us as we talk. You shall hear then what the
service is. And there shall be more pay when it is
done."

The captain took the money with unconcealed
avidity, betraying his feelings by the 'eadiness with
which he promised good faith and promptitude.
Seizing Ilolyday's arm, he then hastened off to
Smithfield, reckless alike of the appearance he made
in the streets, and of the risk of meeting sergeants.
In the second-hand shops of Long Lane he remedied
his nakedness at a price which l',ft sufficient for his
dinner and the scholar's at Mother Walker's three-
halfpenny ordinary. When he reappeared in St.
Paul's, which was now comparatively empty between
hours of resort, he wore a suit of faded maroon with
orange-tawny stockings and a brown felt hat.

Meanwhile, Jcrningham, glad to have committed
the swaggerer to the business before the latter knew
its nature, had told the news to Sir Clement at

RKVENGE UrON IV0ATAA'K/,VD.

dinner, and was already back in tlie church. The
faithful Gregory still attended him, more disgruntled
than ever, for he considered that he might have had
some of the money his master had bestowed, and
would yet bestow, upon this swaggering captain.
Gregory regarded the captain blackly ; he viewed
this new engagement as a thing most unnecessary,
most injurious to himself ; and he found his wrath
increase each time he looked upon the interloper.
Jerninghara bade him wait out of hearing, and
beckoned the captain into a darkish corner of the
church, whither Master Holyday did not follow.

"Well," said Ravcnshaw, with after-dinner jovi-
ality, " what's the business .' What is it you would
have me bully, or cozen, or persuade for you ? "

" In plain words, a certain wench's consent to
a meeting," was the reply.

" What the devil ! " cried the captain, aflame.
" Do you take me for a ring-carrier .' "

Jerningham was silent a moment ; then said :

"I take you for no better — and no worse — than
any disbanded soldier that lives upon his wits about
the town here."

"What others do, is not for me to be judged by.
I am Ravcnshaw."

" I never heard any reason why Ravcnshaw should
be thought more tender of women than his comrades
are."

' ' - CAPTAIN RA VENSlfA \V.

" Tender of women ! A plague on 'em ! I owe
them nothing but injuries. 'Tis not that."
"What is it, then, offends you .' "
" 'Tis that you should think me a scurvy fellow that
you dare affront with the offer of such an eriand."

" Why, 'tis no scurvy errand. I only ask you to
persuade her to meet me. I would approach .ler my-
self, but I am suspected and cannot come at her
without her connivance. I need one whom her peo-
ple have not marked, to speak to her for me. I take
it you have the wit to reach her ear. I would have
you carry her my praises, and vows, and solicitations
for a meeting; and describe me to her as you see
me, as a liberal, well-inclined gentleman."

" Ay, in short, you ask me to play the go-
between."

"Oh, pshaw, man! stumble not at mere names."
"The names for such business are none too
sweet, in troth ! "

" They are but names. And sweet names may be
coined for it. Love's ambassador, Cupid's orator,
heart's emissary, — call yourself so, and the business
becomes honourable."

"Faith, I have long known things are odious or
honourable in accordance with the names they're
called by. But I am not for your business."

" Why, you have no choice. You are bound to it
by the clothes you wear, bought with my money — "

KEVENCH UrON IVOMANKIXD.

i'3

"I can o'en doff these clothes, as I have doffed
others," said the cai)tain, though somewhat discon-
solately.

" By the very dinner you have eaten," went on
Jerningham.

" I can scratch up the money to pay you for that."

"And by the further service I intend for you.
Bcshrew me, man, you may find yourself nested for
life if you keep my favour. No more nakedness and
starvation." Jerningham, on the eve of his long
voyage, could afford any promise ; besides, 'twas
not impossible this redoubtable fellow might really
be useful to him indefinitely, one way or another.

Ravenshaw glared at him with the tortured look
of a man sorely tempted.

"Moreove ," added Jerningham, "what profit can
you have in any kind of virtue, when your reputation
is so villainous .■' "

"Hang my reputaLion ! I'll not be taken for a
love-messenger. I'll help no man to any woman."

" You are an ass, then. For aught you know, my
love may be honest enough."

" If it were, you would go about it othervvise."

"You know not the world, to say so. Docs
honest love always work openly.' Hath not every
case its peculiar circumstances .' Because you fear,
without known grounds, that you may be a means of
harm to a wench, will you go hungry to-morrow >

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

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

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.<t AflLLlCENT. ,,,

-I am sure I know not." she answered, em-
barrassedly, but still smiling.

'■Put it to the test." he whispered, huskily.
"G.ve h.m the occasion to speak -one that adores
you -hear him utter your praises -hear him vow
his devotion — give him the occasion "

"Methinks-you take the occasion now." said
she. m a voice scarce above the rustle of the air
among the leaves.

" Nay _ heaven's light ! - 1 mean not myself I " he
said, dismayed.

"Why.wha-.' What then? What mean you ' "

Her smile had fled in a breath, and in its place
was a look of suddenly awakened horror that smote
him like a whip's blow across the eyes.

"Oh. nothing," he stammered. "I mean -'tis
not myself that's worthy to praise you. I know not
— I am out of my wits — forget — "

Just then a woman's voice was heard calling
from the house. "Mistress Millicent. where art
thou .'

"'Tis Lettice. my mother's woman." whispered
he girl, quickly. - 1 must in. I have come out for

this bunch of apple-blossoms. Some other time

we'll talk — perhaps."

Without another word she ran from the garden
The captain snapped his pipe in two. and flung

the pieces to the ground; then turned toward the

,32 CAPTAIW KAyENHUAW.

evening sky. in which a numerous company of stars
now twinkled, a face bitter with seU-loathing.

- I am a beast," he hissed ; "a slave, a scavenger,
a raker of rags, fit company for the dead curs m
HounLitch. Fohl but, by God's light and by th.s

't; rIThU hand toward the stars, and finished
his oath, whatever it was, in thought, not ,n speech
Then! s;ddenly resuming his former mien, he turned
and walked rapidly into the house.

CHAPTER VIII.

SIR PEREGRINE MEDWAV.

" How ihe roMi,
Thai kept cnntinuil sprini vriihln her chnki,
Are withered with the old nun'i dull embrace! 1 "

- TA, NigU.WaUur.

As the captain entered, he heard some little
bustle, as of an arrival. In the lower passage, at the
door leading to the kitchen, was a strange serving,
man, already on terms of banter with the cook and
maids. He was provided with a torch, as yet un-
lighted; evidently the guest he attended would stay
till after dark. Ravenshaw climbed the narrow
stairs to the withdrawing-room, of which the door
was open.

This was a fine large room, with an oaken ceiling
and oaken panelling; with veiled pictures and veiled
statues in niches ; with solid chairs, carved chests
and coffers, tables covered with rich Easterii •• cat-
pets;" with a wide window bulging out over Cheap-
side, and with a great, handsome chimneypiece. The
floor was strewn with clean rushes. Some boughs
burnmg in the fireplace gave forth a pleasant odour.
A boy was lighting the candles in the sconces.
'33

,j4 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

Ravcnshaw-s glance too« in these details at the
same moment in which it embraced the group of
people in the room. The goldsmith and his wife
stood beaming, and the woman Lettice l<K,kcd on at
a respectful distance, while in the centre of the room
was Mistress MiUiccnt in the grasp of a tall, lean
old gentleman in gorgeous raiment, who very gal-
lantly kissed both her cheeks and then both her

hands. , , u

.. Sweet, sweet." this ancient gallant lisped to her,
..I can see how thou hast pined. But all is well
now; I am with thee again; my leg is mended.
Thou wcrt not fated to lose thy Sir Peregrine for all
the ramping horses in Kngland. So cheerily, cheerily
now. Smooth thy face ; I see how thou'st grieved,
and I love thee the better for it."

Mistress MiUicent certainly looked far from happy ;
but her dejection at that moment seemed to proceed
less from any past apprehension for the visitors
safety than from a present antipathy to his em-
braces. She was pale and red by turns, and she
drew back from him with much relief the instant he
released her. Her eyes met those of Ravenshaw,
and she blushed exceedingly, and looked as if she
would sink out of observation.

"Come in. Master Holyday," said the goldsmith
seeing the captain in the doorway. "Come in and
be known to Sir Peregrine Medway. Master Holy-

S//! PF.KF.CRrXF. MF.nwAY. 13 5

day's father is an old fric-iiU ol mine, that was my
neighbour in Kent."

"Holyday, Holyday," repeated Sir Peregrine, wiili
indifferent thoughtfulness, l(H)king at the captain
carelessly. <■ My first wife had a cousin that was a
Holyday, or some such n-.mc, but not of Kent. Sir,
I crave your better acquaintance," to whiih polite
expression the old knight gave the lie by turning
from the captain as if he di.smis.sed him for ever
from his consciousness, and offering his hand to
Mi.strcss Ethcridge to lead her to a chair.

" What withered reed of courtesy, what stockfush
of gallantry, may this be > " 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.

"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.

'?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

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

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

" 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<tir.

Ravenshaw found Master ilolyday leaning back
against a door-post, with the unconscious weariness
of hunger, and listening with a mild interest to the
oration of a quack doctor who had drawn a small
crowd.

"Come, heart," cried the captain, "the mounte-
bank will never cure thy empty stomach ; here's the
remedy for that," and he showed his gold piece, and
dragged the scholar to an ordinary. After dinner,
they bought paper, ink, and pens, and took a lodging

at the house of a horse-courser in Smithfield, a

top-story room, with an open view of the horse
markets backed by gabled buildings and the tower
of St. Bartholomew's Church.

Ravenshaw left the poet at work upon his puppet-
play, of which the title was to be : " The Tragical
Comical History of Paris and Helen ; otherwise the
King a Cuckold ; being the Sweet Sinful Loves of
the Trojan Gallant and the Fair Queen of Menelaus ;
167

1 68

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

with the Mad, Merry Humours of the Foul-mouthed
Roaring Greek Soldier, Thersites."

The captain whiled away the afternoon in the
streets, where there were conjurers, jugglers, morris-
dancers, monsters, and all manner of shows for the
crowds of people in town for the law term. At
evening he took home a supper from a cook's shop,
and shared it with Holyday, who, being in the full
flow of inspiration, continued writing with one hand
while he ate from the other whatever the captain
offered him ; the poet knowing not what food he
took, and oft staring or grimacing as he sought for
expression or felt the passion or mirth of what he
wrote. Ravenshaw presently placed a lighted candle
on the writer's deal table, and stole out to keep his
tryst with the goldsmith's daughter.

The day had gone eventfully at the goldsmith's
house. In the morning Master Etheridge an-
nounced that he would give a supper, with dancing,
that night, to show his pleasure at Sir Peregrine's
recovery and arrival. This was an age when rich
citizens missed no occasion for festivity. So there
was much bustle of sending servants with invita-
tions, hiring a band of musicians, cooking meats and
fowls and birds, making cakes and marchpane and
pasties, and other doings. Millicent uttered no
plaint or protest ; the time of pleadings and tears
on her side, arguments and threats on her father's,

IN THE GOLOS.VITirs (iAHDIX.

l^Kj

was [Kist ; many and long had been the scenes
between the two, such as were not uncommon in
that age, and such as Shakespeare has represented
in the brief passage between "Juliet" and her
parents, and these had left the goldsmith firm as
rock, Millicent weak and hopeless of resisting his
will.

As for Sir Peregrine, he had never thought it
necessary to urge ; he took it for granted she adored
him — what lady had not? — and that in her heart
she counted herself supremely blessed in bemg
picked out for him. He attributed her aloofness
and sulkiness, even her outbursts of spoken detesta-
tion, to shyness, girlish perverseness, sense of un-
worthiness of the honour of his hand, and chiefly to
jealousy of his former wives and present admirers.
So he serenely ignored all signs of her feelings.

She bore her part in the day's preparations, a little
uneasy in mind lest the festivities might prevent hei-
appointed meeting at nightfall. She could not heli)
counting much upon this new acquaintance ; he
seemed a man of such resource and ingenuity, and
such willingness to deliver her, even though he was
betrothed to another — what a pity he was betrothed !
She checked herself, with a blush ; but all the same
she had an intuition that the other woman would not
be the best wife for him.

So it befell that, as R.iveiishaw approached the

170

CAPTAW KAVENSHAIV.

house at dark, he saw all the windows light, and
from the open ones came forth the sounds of music,
laughter, and gay voices. Nevertheless, he pushed
gently at the Friday Street gate, which gave as he
had hoped, and found himself alone in the garden.
He softly closed the gate, went into the shadow of
the apple-tree, and waited.

With his eyes upon the place where she mus>
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,

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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 tom<at's."

" Without stopping them, you and your men will
close around the couple as a guard, and accompany
where the gentleman shall direct. If any pursue,
or try to molest them, you are to defend, and help
their flight, at all risks. But they are not like to
be sought for till they are out of London. They
will take to the water at Queenhithe, and you five
with them, all in the same boat. And so down
the river with the tide, how many miles I know
not exactly, till you land, upon the Kentish side.
The gentleman will give orders where."

" This should be worth ten pound, at the least, so
far," said Cutting Tom, musingly, as if to himself.

" You will not get ten pounds at the most, and yet
you will go farther," replied Ravenshaw, curtly.
"After you are put ashore, will come your chief
service, which is to protect my gentleman and maid
to their destination inland. How far this journey
will be, I am not sure, but 'twill be some walking,
through woods and by lonely ways, and by night ;
and you are to guard them against the dangers and
fears of the way, that is all. When they come to

THE RASCAL EMPLOYS t/IS IV/TS.

187

the place they are bound for, they will dismiss
you, and you may fare home to London as you
choose."

"Why, beshrew my body! 'tis an all-night busi-
ness, then."

"It should be over something after midnight, if
begun early and well sped ; I count not the time of
your return to London. And look you : I am not
to be named in the affair, that is of the first import.
If the lady knew — well, in short, I am not to be
named. The lady is not to know of my hand in it ;
if she did all would go wrong, and I should make
you sorry."

"I will remember. This should be worth, now,
fifteen pound, at the smallest. I shall have to pay
the men — "

" You can pay them a pound apiece, and have
two pounds for yourself. That will be si.\ pounds."

" Oh, jest not, I pray you ! Ten pound and
there's an end on't."

After some discussion, they met each other at
eight pounds. Then arose another question.

" Since you are not to appear in the aflair," said
Cutting Tom, " and I know not the other gentleman
save by sight, it behooves that you pay before we set
forth."

"Half ere you set forth," conceded the captain,
knowing his man, " half when the work is done."

t88

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

" Then will the gentleman pay me the second half
when we are at his destination ? "

" No. He will have no money with him. I would
not put you in temptation upon the journey, or after-
ward. Though I shall not appear in the matter, I
shall pay." He thought for a moment. It was
safest that Cutting Tom should know him alone as
master, deal with him alone where gold was to be
handled, and yet that he should not pay the first
money till the last possible moment before leaving
London. Finally he said : " For the first four
pounds, thus: to-morrow, at fifteen minutes before
noon, no later, be at the hither end of London
Bridge; I will meet you there and pay. For the
other four pounds, thus: when the journey is fin-
ished, pass the rest of the night at the gentleman's
destination, — he shall find you room in some stable-
loft, or such, — and there I will come the next day
with the gold, for I shall be in that neighbourhood."
Cutting Tom grumbled a little; but Ravenshaw,
after applying to him a few terms designed to make
him think no better of himself, threatened to employ
another man, and so brought him to agreement.
The details having been repeated for the sake of
accuracy, the captain left the place, and Tom
returned to his amusements.

Ravenshaw's concern now was to raise the prom-
ised eight pounds and such other money as would be

THE RASCAL EMPLOYS HIS WITS.

requi d in the exploit. He must needs bestir him-
self, t this late hour there was not time for any
elaborate enterprise. Some bold, shrewd stroke
must serve him. But might he expect to perform
such a wonder now, when he had not been able to
perform one, even at the pressure of dire want, dur-
ing the past weeks .' Yes ; for he had the stimulus
of a new motive ; and the very shortness of the time
at his disposal would put an edge to his wit, and
sharpen his sight to opportunities to which he would
commonly be blind.

The manifest thing to do first was to stake his few
shillings at cards or dice. He entered the nearest
dice-house; but here he was well known and no
player would engage with him. He went into an-
other place, where most of the gamesters were men
from the country, whom a few hardened rooks of the
town were fleecing. Here the captain got to work
with the bones ; but, as the dice were true, he soon,
to his consternation, lost his last sixpence. In a
desperate desire of getting some silver back in order
to try for better luck elsewhere, he raised a howl of
having been cheated with loaded dice, and proceeded
to roar terror into his opponent. But the latter,
frightened out of his wits, took bodily flight, and,
though Ravenshaw pursued him out of the house,
succeeded in losing himself in the darkness of Snow
Hill.

190

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

What was the captain now to do ? For a moment
he thought of taking his stand on Holborn bridge,
and crying " Deliver ! " to the first belated person
who might be supposed to carry a fat purse. But
there would be danger in that course, danger to his
purpose, and he dared not risk that purpose as he
would risk his own neck. He bethought himself
with bitterness that there was not a human being in
London, or in the world, who would lend him half
the needed sum, to save his soul. Nerved by the
reflection, he strode forward and swaggered into a
tavern on the north side of Holborn, the door of
which had just opened to let out three hilarious inns-
of-court men who came forth singing :

" For three merry men, and three merry men,
And three merry men we be."

He looked in at each open chamber door, and
listened at each closed one. Neither eating, nor
drinking, nor smoking, nor the music of begging
fiddlers, had any attraction for him this time. But
at last he came to a large upper room wherein money
was passing, for he could hear the rattle of dice ai»-
the soft chink of gold amidst the exclamations of
men, the voices of women, and the scraping of a
couple of violins. Without knocking, he boldly
flung open the door, and entered.

Candles were plentiful in the room, which was

THE RASCAL EMrLOYS HIS WITS.

191

hung with painted cloth. On a long table were
the remains of a supper ; at one end of this tabic
the cloth had been turned back, and three gentle-
men were throwing dice upon the bare oak. At the
other part of the table sat two women, with painted
cheeks and gorgeous gowns, and a fourth gentleman.
Upon the window-seat were two vagabond-looking
fellows a-fiddling. The women were dividing their
attention between the gamesters and a lean grey-
hound, for which they would toss occasionally a bit of
food into the air. Before each of the women there
was a little pile of gold, to which her particular game-
ster would add or resort, as he won or lost. All this
the captain took in with sharp eyes ere any one did
him the honour to challenge his entrance with a look.

" Oh, your pardon ! " quoth he, when at last these
people showed a kind of careless, insolent surprise at
his presence. " I thought to find friends here ; I
have mistaken the room." But instead of withdraw-
ing he stepped forward, his glance playing between
the '"ice and the gold.

" Oh, Jesu ! " said one of the women, a great lazy
blonde, with splendid eyes, and a slow voice; "'tis
that swaggering filthy rascal Ravenshaw, with his
beard cut off."

" 'Tis Samson shorn of his strength, then ! " said
the other woman, a little, Spanish-looking, brown
beauty, who spoke in quick, shrill tones. She was

192

CAPTAIN KAVENSHAW.

dressed in brown velvet and scarlet satin. One of
her hands lay in the ardent clasp of a large gentle-
man, who, with his own free hand, held the dice-box.
He was handsome and simple-looking, and he now
broke into loud laughter at her jest.

" 'T would have needed a handsomer Delilah than
any here, to do the shearing," said the captain, rudely.
Having been a hater of women, he had been wont to
treat this kind with caustic raillery.

The large gallant roared at this, and said, " Faith,
ladies, you brought that on yourselves!" But
one of the other two gamesters, a lean, fox-faced,
eager-looking little man, he whose pile of winnings
lay before the indolent blonde, frowned with resent-
ment on her behalf. First his frown was directed
at Ravenshaw ; but, deeming it prudent to aim it
elsewhere, he turned it upon the large gentleman,
saying:

" Your mirth is easily stirred, Master Burney."
The brunette shot a look of anger at the speaker
for the offensive tone he used toward her gallant.
The blonde noticed this, and took the little gentle-
man's hand in hers, to show where her allegiance
lay ; and then she drawled out, with a motion which
might have come to a shrug of horror had she not
been too lazy to finish it :

" Oh, God ! I pity Delilah, the poor woman, if her
Samson was such a bottle-ale rogue as this beast ! "

THE RASCAL EMPLOYS HIS WITS.

>93

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

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.\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 g<?nerosity which
went with his vanity, "buy it thou shalt not, but
have it thou shalt. I buy 'em both, father ; see 'em
both put down to me. Here, young sir ; and let thy
bride know what 'tis the mate of." And he tossed
one of the rings to Holyday, not graciously, but as
one throws a bone to a dog.

" She will hold herself much honoured," said Holy-
day, coolly, picking up the little circlet from among
the rushes, and inwardly glad to make a fool of such a
supercilious old fop. Noticing that Millicent observed
his irony and approved it, he went on : " Of a truth,
though, I am somewhat beforehand in the matter;
the maid's consent yet hangs fire." And he cast her
a look which he thought would set her thinking.

"Troth, then," said the goldsmith, good-humour-
edly, "you go the right way to carry her by storm.
Show her the wedding-ring, and tell her 'tis for her,
and I warrant all's dor.e."

CAPTAIN RAVBNSHAW.

" I will take your counsel," said Holyday, glancing
from the ring to Milliccnt's finger. " She might be
afflicted with a worse husband, I tell her."

"Ay, young man," put \\ Sir Peregrine, for the
sake of showing his wisdom in such matters, " be not
afraid to sound your own praises to her. If you do
not so yourself, who will .' — except, of course, your
merits were such as show without being spoken for."
The knight unconsciously glanced down at himself.

"Oh, I have those to lornmmend me that have
authority with her," said ih,' scholar. " She hath an
uncle will plead my suit ; and truly he ought to, for
'twas he set me to wooing her, and from his account
I became her servant ere ever I had seen her."

" Hath the lady no parents, then } " queried Mas-
ter Etheridge.

" Oh, yes ; they are well inclined to me, too ; I
spoke of the uncle because 'twas his woid made me
first seek her out."

"And did you find her all he had said.'" asked
Mistress Etheridge.

" Oh, even more beautiful. 'Tis her beauty makes
me bashful in commending myself to her."

"Oh, never be afraid," said Mistress Etheridge.
"You have a good figure, for one thing, and a
modest mien."

" So her mother says," acquiesced Holyday, inno-
cently.

A RIOT IN CIlEAI'StDE.

223

"Your father hath a good estate," said Master
Etheridge, "and that speaks louder for you than
modesty or figure."

" That is what her father hath the goodness to say
for mc. I hope she will take her parents' words to
mind. But I doubt not, in her heart she thmks mc
better than some."

"Well, her parents are the best judges," said Mas-
ter Etheridge. " I must go down to the shop ; you
will eat dinner with us, friend Ralph .' "

" I thank you, sir ; but I must meet a gentleman
elsewhere at eleven o'clock."

If Mistress Millicent had taken his meaning, he
thought, she would now see the necessity of speedily
having a word with him alone.

After the goldsmith had left the room, Sir Pere-
grine directed the conversation into such channels
that Holyday was perforce out of it. The old
knight evidently thought that enough talk had
gone to the affairs of this young gentleman from
Kent.

The scholar, wondering how matters would go,
agitated within but maintaining a kind of preternat-
ural calm without, ventured to scan Millicent's face
for a sign. She vas regarding him furtively, as if
she apprehended, yet feared to find herself deceived ;
in truth, her experience with Captain Ravenshaw
had made it difficult for her to hope, or trust, anew.

^^4

C.U'TAIN RAVKNSUAW.

Hut surely fate could not twice abuse her so; this
must indeed be Ralph Holyday,— her father was not
likely to be deceived a second time, — and the I loly-
days were neighbours of her uncle, from whom she
had not entirely ceased to look for aid. In any case,
there, in the shape of Sir Peregrine, was a horrible
certainty, to which a new risk was preferable. With
a swift motion, therefore, she put her finger to her
lip ; and Master Holyday felt a great load lifted from
his mind.

While Sir Peregrine was entcrtaininf; Mistress
Ethcridgc with a minute account of how he had
once cured himself of a calenture, Millicent sud-
denly asked :

" What is the posy in your wedding-ring, Master
Holyday .' "

The scholar screwed up his eyes to see the rhyme
traced within the circlet.

" Nay, let me look," she demanded, impatiently.
" I have better eyes, I trow."

He handed her the ring ; she walked to the win-
dow, to examine it in good light ; the casement was
open, to let in the soft May air. Suddenly she
turned to the others, with a cry :

"Mercy on me! I have dropped Master Holy-
day's ring into the street."

"Oh, thou madcap child!" exclaimed Mistress
Etheridge.

A moT IN ciihArsinK.

-5

"Oh, 'tis nothing," said llolyday, confusctlly, not
yet sceiiiK his way. '< I can soon find it."

" Nay, I saw where it foil," said Milliccnt, quickly.
'•'Tis right I fetch it back."

Krc any one could say nay, she ran from the
room. Holyday, understanding, called out, "Nay,
trouble not yourself ! " and hastened after her as if to
forestall her in recovering the ring. He was upon the
stairs in time to see that she went out, not through
the shop, but through the door from the passage into
I-'riday Street. He followed, wondering what Raven-
shaw would think on seeing the two. When they
came into Cheapside she began to search a little at
one side of the open shop-front, so as not to be seen
from within. Glancing up, however, Holyday saw
that Mistress Etheridge and Sir Peregrine were look-
ing down from the window above. He dared not
turn his eyes toward the cross, for fear of meeting
those of Ravenshaw. Both he and the maid searched
the cobble paving, within whispering space of each
other.

" Tis safe in my hand," she said ; " so we may be
as long finding it as need be. What mean you with
this talk of a maid's uncle .' "

"I mean thine Uncle Bartlemy," said he, heartened
up at the easy turn his task had taken. " He sent
me to save you from wedding this old knight. The
only escape is by wedding me instead. If you

226

CAPTAIN KAVENSHAW.

are willing, be at your garden gate in Friday Street
this nightfall, ready for a journey by boat. The rest
is in my hands."

Thank Heaven, she reflected, it needed but a
word from her to settle the matter. She could
have swooned for joy at the unexpected prospert
of escape. But she was not flattered by this young
stranger's unloverlike manner. The word could wait
a moment.

" What, does my uncle think I will take the first
husband he sends, and go straight to marriage with-
out even a wooing beforehand .' "

"Why," said Holyday, thrown back into his agi-
tation, "there's no time for wooing before this
marriage. It must wait till after."

"Troth, how do I know 'twill be to my liking,
then, without ever a sample of it first.'"

" Did I not say within," he faltered, feeling very
red and foolish, "that your charms overpower my
tongue.'"

"Well, if you think a maid is to be won for
the mere asking, even though to save herself at
a pinch, I marvel at you."

Her tone was decidedly chill. He felt she was
slipping from him, and he thought of the relentless
man behind the cross; he must rouse himself to
a decisive effort.

"Stay," he said, as the perspiration came out

y1 RIOT JN CIIEAPSrOF..

227

upon his face. "If you must have wooing -god
a- mercy ! _ Thy charms envelop me as some sweet
cloud Of heavenly odours, making me to s;,oon."

She threw him a side-glance of amazement, from
her pretended search of the ground.

"Wooing!" he thought; "she shall have it
of the strongest." And he went on: "And wert
thou drownW in the floorless sea, Thine eyes would
draw me to the farthest depths."

"Why," quoth she, "that sounds like what the
players speak. Do you woo in blank verse?"

"'Tis mine own. I swear." he said, truly enough,
for It was from his new puppet-play of Paris and
Helen. "I'll give you as many lines as you desire
-only remember that time presses. I must away
before eleven o'clock. Best agree to be waiting
at the gate at nightfall, ready for flight."

"If I wed you. shall I be your slave, or my
own mistress .' "

"Oh, no — yes. I mean— as you will. You
shall have all your own way," he said, glibly.

"No stint of gowns, free choice of what I shall
wear, visits to London at my pleasure, my own
time to go to the shops, milliners of my own
choosing .' "
" Yes. yes ! "

"My own horses to ride, and a coach, and what
maids I like, and what company I desire, and no

228

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

company I don't desire, and all the days to be spent
after my liking ? "

" Yes, anything, everything ! "

" Why, then, this marriage will not be such a bad
thing. But I cannot think you love me, if you give
me so many privileges."

"Oh," said he, petulantly, worn almost out of
patience, "'tis the vehemence of my love makes
me promise all rather than lose you ! " At the same
time, he said in his heart : " I shall be happier,
the more such a plague keeps away from me ! "

" How you knock your sword against things ! "
she complained. " One would say you were not used
to it."

"'Tis my confusion in your presence," he
answered, wearily. " I can use the sword well
enough."

" Well, — " She paused a moment, trembling on
the brink; then said, a little unsteadily: "I will
be at the gate at nightfall."

A coach was lumbering along at the farther half
of the street. A large lady therein, masked, blonde-
haired, called out toward the other side of the
cross :

" How now, Captain Ravenshaw .' Hast spent
all that money.' Art waiting for a purse to cut.'"

Millicent gave Holyday a startled look, and ex-
claimed :

'1 RIOT IN CHEAPSIDE. 239

"She said Captain Raven shaw !_ the rogue that
cozened you. He must be yonder."

"Impossible!" gasped the scholar, turning pale
"It must be he. She is laughing at him. What"
are you afraid .?_you that would make him pay for
the lesson ! " ^^

In desperation, the fate-hounded poet grasped his
sword-h.lt, and strode to the other side of the cross
commg face to face with the captain.

"I'm not to blame," said the terrified scholar, in
an undertone. "She heard your name; I had to
seek you — "

"Then feign to fight me," answered Ravenshaw.
whippmg out his rapier. "All's lost else"

Holyday drew his sword, and began to make
awkward thrusts.

"Has she consented .»" whispered Ravenshaw.
panymg and returning the lunges in such manner
as not to touch the other's flesh.

"Yes,'- said the poet, continuing to fence, but
backmg from his formidable-looking antagonist in
spite of himself, so that the two quickly worked
away from the cross into full view of the gold-
smith's house. *■

Meanwhile. Lady Greensleeves's coach had passed
on ; Mistress Etheridge and Sir Peregrine, from their
window, had observed Holyday's movement, and now
recogmsed the captain; Millicent had run to the

230

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

shop entrance, and her father, seeing her there, had
come forth wondering what she was doing in the
street, a question which yielded to his sudden
interest in the fight. Shopkeepers hastened thither
from their doors, people in the street quickly gath-
ered around, but all kept safely distant from the
clashing weapons.

"Give way, and take refuge in the shop," said
Ravenshaw t j his adversary, in the low voice neces-
sary betwoi.i the two, "else somebody will come
that knows us; if our friendship be spoken of,
they'll smell collusion."

The scholar, making all the sword-play of which
he was capable, rapidly yielded ground.

" But not too fast," counselled the captain, using
his skill to make his antagonist show the better,
"else she'll think you a sorry swordraan."

Poor Holyday, panting, perspiring, weak-kneed,
light-headed, but upheld by the mysterious force of
Ravenshaw's steady gaze, did as he was bid. A
murmur of excited comment arose from the crowd ;
the windows of the high-peaked houses began to
be filled with faces. Ravenshaw perceived there
must soon be an end of this ; so, nodding for the
scholar to fall back more rapidly, he advanced with
thrusts that looked dangerous.

Millicent, who had stood in bewilderment since the
beginning of the fight, suddenly realised the folly

A RIOT IN CHF.APS/DE.

231

of any ordinary man's crossing swords with Captain
Ravenshaw. If Holyday were slain or hurt, what
of her escape?

"Good heaven!" she cried, in a transport of
alarm. "Master Holyday will be killed! Father
help him ! "

"Murder, murder!' shouted the goldsmith.
" Constables ! go for constables, some of ye I "

Even at that word, the captain's rapier point came
through a loose part of Master Holyday's doublet,
and the scholar, for an instant thinking himself
touched, stumbled back in terror.

Millicent screamed. "Constables.'" cried she;
"a man might be killed ten times ere they came.
Prentices! Clubs! clubs!"

With an answering shout, her father's flat-capped
lads rushed out from where they had been looking
across the cases. With their bludgeon-like weapons
in hand, they took up the cry, "Clubs ! clubs ! " and
made for the fighters, intent upon getting within
striking distance of Ravenshaw.

The captain turned to keep them off. Holyday,
quite winded, staggered back to the shop entrance.
Millicent caught him by the sleeve, and drew him
into the rear apartment, scarce observed in the fresh
interest that matters had taken in the street. He
put away his sword, panting and trembling. She
led him into the passage, and then to the Friday

232

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

Street door, bidding him make good his flight, and
saying she would be at the gate at nightfall. She
then returned to the front of the shop.

As he ran down Friday Street, Holyday heard an
increased tumult in Cheapside behind him ; he knew
that apprentices must be gathering from every side ;
Ravenshaw's position would be that of a stag sur-
rounded by a multitude of threatening hounds. A
thrown club might bring him down at any moment.
The scholar, with a sudden catching at the throat,
ran into the White Horse tavern, and, seizing a
tapster by the arms, said hoarsely in his ear :

" The noise in Cheapside — the prentices — they
will kill Ravenshaw — for God's sake, Tony I — the
friend of all tapsters, he — but say not I summoned
ye."

He dashed out and away, while Tony was tearing
off his apron and bawling out the name of every
drawer in the place.

Meanwhile, in the middle of Cheapside, in the
space left open by the swelling crowd for its own
safety, a strange spectacle was presented : one man
with sword and dagger, menaced by an ever increas-
ing mob of apprentices with their clubs. It was a
bear baited by dogs, the shouts of the apprentices
dinning the ears of the onlookers like the barking of
mastiffs in the ring on the Bankside. When the first
band of apprentices rushed forth, two stopped short

A KIOT IN CHEAPSIDE. ,33

as his sword-point darted to meet them, and tl>c
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<l friend to in my time — "

"A ben cove," said the upright man. "Mort,

KAVKNSIIAW FALLS ASLEEP.

255

take off your fambles ; brother rufflers, down with
your filches and cudgels. By the salamon, the cant-
ing cuffin shall go free upon the pad."

Released on every side, no more threatened, and
his dagger restored to its sheath, the captain looked
gratefully down upon the grotesque crew. As he
did so, his nose became sensible of a faint, delicious
odour, borne from a distance. He sniffed keenly.

" Cackling-cheats," said the chief beggar. "Our
doxies and dells are roasting 'em in a glade yonder.
Plump young ones, and fresh. We filched 'em but
last darkmans. We be toward a ben supper, and
you are welcome, — though we lack bouze."

The captain sighed. He had not dined ; the fresh
air of the country had whetted his stomach ; roast
chickens were good eating, hot or cold ; and he had
gathered, from the vague replies Jerningham had
made to his inquiries about provisions, that his diet
at the Grange would be a rather spare one of salt
meat, stockfish, milk, and barley-cakes.

" Alas, if I durst but tarry ! " He looked to see
how far behind him the sun was, and then shook his
head and gathered up his reins. " I must hasten on
— tis a sweet smell of cookery, forsooth ! — how
soon, think you, will they be roasted .' "

" Oh, half an hour, to be done properly."

"Then I must e'en th.ink ye, .ind ride or. T
durst not — " Ho broko off to sniff iho air again

2i6

CAPTA liV KA VEIfSJI 4 IK

" Marry, I have a iliought. You lack bouze, say you ?
Now at the place whither I am hound, there is ale, or
my gentleman has lied to me. I shall be in a sort
the master there, with only a country wench and an
old doting man — Know you Marshleigh Grange ? "
"Ay," spoke up a very old cripple; "the lone
house 'twixt the hills and the marshes ; tliere hath
been no ben filching there ihis many a year; the
wild rogues pass it by as too far from the pads;
neither back nor belly-cheats to be angled there."

Ravenshaw addressed himself again to the bearded
chief of the beggars, received answer, passed a jovial
comiiliment, and rode on alone in cheerful mood. In
due time he turned into the by-road which accorded
with Jemingham's description ; and at length, emerg-
ing from a woody, bushy tract, he came upon a
lonely plain wherein the one object for the eye was
a gray-brown house, huddled against barn and out-
buildings, at the left of the vanishing road, — a house
of timber and plaster, warped and weather-beaten,
its cracked gables offering a wan, long-suffering
aspect to the sun and breeze. This was the Grange.
A short canter brought Ravenshaw to the rude
wooden gate, studded with nails, in the f tone wall
thit separated tlie courtyard from the road, which
here rrinie to an end. Kre the captam had time to
knock, or cry "Ho, within ! " the gate swung inward
on Its crazy hinges, and a th'i, bent old man, with

KAVHNSIIAW /ALLS ASLEF.P.

257

sparse white hair and blinking eyes, shambled for-
ward to take the horse. At the same time, as
further proof that Ravenshaw had been looked for,
a woman appeared in the porched doorway of the
house, and called out :

"Jeremy will see to your horse. Come within."

Ravenshaw looked at her with a little surprise;
this robust, erect, full-coloured, well-shaped crea-
ture, upon whom common rustic clothes took a
certain grace, and whose head stood back in the
proud attitude natural to beauty, was scarce the
country wench he had expected to meet. Hut he
said nothing, and followed her into the hall. This
was a wide, high apartment of some pretension, its
ceiling, rafters, and walls being of oak. Hare enough,
it yet had the appearance of '(.-rving as the chief
living-room of the occupants of the house. Upon an
oak table, at which was an old chair, stood a flagon
of wine and some cakes. Meg offered Ravenshaw
this repast by a gesture, while she scrutinised him
with interest.

"Wine.'" quoth he, promptly setting to. " 'Tis
more than I had thought to find."

" There is some left since the time when — v,fhen
Master Jerningham used to come to the Grange
oftcner," said Meg. "Ale serves for me and old
Jeremy."

"Troth — your heahli. mistress ! — I am glad you

258

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

have ale in store. Would there be enough to enter-
tain a few guests withal — some dozen or score poor
friends of mine, if they were travelling this way?
To tell the truth, I should not like to waste this wine
upon such."

"Travellers never pass this way," said Meg, plainly
not knowing what to make of him.

" Oh, we are some way from the highroad here, in-
deed ; but a foolish friend or so might turn out a
mile for the pleasure of my company."

" I know not what you'd set before 'em to eat, if
there were a dozen."

" Marry, they would have to bring eatables with
'em, — my reason for having 'em as guests. Only
so there be ale enough."

"Oh, there is ale," said Meg, without further
comment.

Ravenshaw, munching the cakes, and oft wetting
his throat, looked around the hall. The front door-
way faced a wide fireplace at the rear, now empty.
At the right was a door to a small apartment, a kind
ot porter's room, lighted by a single high narrow
window ; farther back in the hall was the entrance
to a passage communicating with other parts of the
house ; and still farther back, a door leading to the
kitchen. At the left hand were, first, a door to a
large room, and, second, the opening to a passage
like that on the rijrht.

RAVENSHAW FALLS ASLEEP.

259

By way of this left-hand passage, and a narrow
staircase which led from it, the captain was presently
shown by old Jeremy to his chamber. It was large
and bare, hung with rotten arras, and contained a
bed, a joint-stool, and a table with ewer and basin ;
its window looked into the courtyard.

He flung his bruised body on the bed, and soon
sank dcliciously to sleep.

Meanwhile old Jeremy, returning to the hall, found
Meg sitting with her chin upon her hands, and gaz-
ing into the empty fireplace.

"A sturdy fellow," whispered the old man, point-
ing backward with his thumb, and taking on a jocular
air. " Cast eyes on him ; a goodly husband mends
all ; cast eyes on him ! "

" Thou'rt a fool ; go thy ways i " quoth Meg ; but
she did not move.

CHAPTiR XVI.

THE POKT AS i MAN OF ACTION.

" () father, where'! my love ? were you so careless
To let itn utithrth 5teal away your child * "

— Tlu Can Is AlUrti.

MiLLiCENT, after the riot had ceased and dinner
had been eaten, passed the day with a palpitating
heart but a resolved mind. Under cover of her
usual needlework, she fashioned a sort of large linen
wallet, in which to carry the few things she wished
to take with her. Her emotions were, in a less de-
gree, similar to those which had affected her in the
hours preceding her former attempt to run away.
At supper she looked often with a hidden tenderness
at the composed, unsuspecting face of her mother.
When the light of evening faded she slipped to her
chamber, and put a few chosen objects into the
receptacle she had made, wrapped this in a hooded
cloak, and dropped it from her window into the
concealed space behind the garden shrubbery. She
then waited, watching from the window that part
of Friday Street in which Master Holyday must
appear.

i6e

THE tOET AS A MAN OF ACTION. 26 1

At last his slender figure lurched into view in the
dusk, and came to a stop outside the gate.

Millicent sped across her chamber. At the dwr
she turned, with fast-bcating heart, and cast an aftcc-
tionate, tearful look at the place in which she had
spent so much of her "• ildhood and youth, and which
seemed to share so many of her untold thoughts It
appeared for an instant to reproach her sorrowfully •
but when in her swift thought she justiticHl her
actKW, ,ts aspect changed to that of wishing her
Godspeed, and counselling her to hasten

She hurried through the house as if upon some
mdoor quest, found herself alone in the ga-den re-
covered her cloak and parcel, and went to unfasten
the gate.

"Tis I, Master Holyday," she said, in a low tone,
as she loosened the bolt.

"Good! gocd! excellent!" came the schobr's
reply from outside the gate, in a voice rather
parched and excited.

Having slid back the bolt, she made to pull the
gate open, but it would not move.

"What is the matter.'" quoth she. "I cannot
open It. Push it from your side."

She heard his hands laid against it. then his
shoulder, then his back. But it would not budge
She examined it closely in the dusky light, and sud-
denly gave a little cry of despair.

3b2

CAI'TAIN KAVENSIIAW.

" Oh, mo ! There is a new lock on the ;jatc, and
God knows where is the key I "

During the afternoon, in fact, Master Etheridgc,
alarmed by the easy entrance obtained by Raven-
shaw and Gregory the previous night, and by
Ravenshaw's exit from the garden that day, — an
exit after which the gate had been left open, — had
caused an additional lock to be put on, a lock to be
opened by means of a key which the goldsmith
thought best to keep in his own care.

"Oh, what shall I do?" she cried, after a futile
tug at the lock.

" Is there no other way to come out f " queried
Holyday, in perturbation.

"Alas, no! There's the street door from the gal-
lery, but my father locks it himself at supper-time
and keeps the key. I durs'n't go through the shop ;
if it isn't closed, my father may be in the back shop
and the apprentices will surely be in front."

"God's name, I know not what — " began the
poet, agitated with perplexity and fear of failure,
but broke off to " Can'i you make another pretext
to go out.' — drop another wedding-ring into the
street, or something.'"

" Nay, they would sure stop my going or follow
me out at this hour. Oh, would I could leap the
wall! By St. Anne, 'tis too bad — Ha! wait a
minute."

TIfK POET AS A MA AT Of ACTION.

363

L/iuIc. the impulse of her thought she sped awny
without lis'ening t ,r answer, unconscious that her
last words had been siwken too low to go beyond the
gate.

Hence she did not know that Master Holyday
attacked by an idea at the same moment, and ex-
pressing himself with equal inaudibility, had as sud-
denly made ofif toward the White Horse Tavern.

She was in the house ere it occurred to her that
she ought to have rid herself of her burden by throw-
ing it , ver the wall. She thought best not to retrace
her steps. So she ran up-stairs and along the pas-
sage to a small window that looked down on Friday
Street. She pushcil open the casement, saw that no
one was passing below, and dropped the parcel, trust-
ing It to the darkness. She had a moment's idea of
callmg to Holyday to come and take it, but a second
thought was wiser; she cast a single glance towanl
the gate, but was uncertain whether she made out
his form or not in the decreasing light. Then she
went down-stairs, and boldly into the back sh„p
Her father sat at his small table counting by
candle-light the day's money.

" Eh ! what is it } " he asked, looking sharply up.
"What dost thou here, baggage.'"

" I have an order for George," she replied, quietly,
forcmg her voice to steadiness, and praying that her
throbbing heart and pale face might not betray her

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264

CAPTAIN KAVENS/IAW.

George was an apprentice whom, for his cleverness,
Mistress Etheridge was wont to employ on errands.
Millicent could see him now in the outer shop, busy
with other apprentices in covering the cases and
closing up the front.

" 'Zooks ! " grumbled the goldsmith ; " thy mothc
would best take the lad for a page, and be done
with it."

Millicent passed on to the front shop.
"George," said she, when out of her father's
hearing, but in that of one or two of the other
apprentices, " you are to come with me to Mistress
Carroll's next door ; there is something to fetch back.
Nay, wait till you have done here ; I'll run ahead, 'tis
but a step."

Upon the hazard that her father, in the rear shop,
would not lift up his eyes from his money for some
little time, she passed out to Cheapside. In a breath
she was around the comer, from the crowd and the
window-lights, into the dusk and desertion of Friday
Street. She stooped and picked up her cloak and
bag ; then ran on, to the gate.

" Speed I speed ! there's not a moment to lose ! "
she whispered, catching the elbow of the man who
stood there, and who had not heard her coming
swiftly up behind him.

He turned and stared, putting his eyes close to
hers on account of the darkness ; she saw that he

THE POET AS A MAN OF ACTION. 265

had a great, scarred, bearded face, and that his body
was twice the breadth of Master Holyday's.

"Oh, God!" she exclaimed, drawing back. "I
thought you were Master Holyday."

" Master Holyday, eh ? " growled the man. " What
of him .' "

"I — I was to meet him here," she faltered, loot
mg around with a sinking heart.

"Oh! -God's light! -you are the maid, be-
l.ke.' Well, troth, beshrew me but thafs the
hell of ,t!" And the fellow grinned with silent
laughter.

"What mean you.' What maid.' Know vou
aught — .' " ^

"Of Master Holyday.' Sooth, do I! He's on
t'other side of this gate."

She stared at the closed gate in bewilderment
" What .' In the garden .' "

" Ay, in the garden." The man raised his voice a
little. •' Sure thou'rt there, Master Holyday .' "

"Ay," came the reply in the scholar's unmistak-
able voice. "But the maid is not. Hang her,
whither is she gone .' "

"Here I am," answered the maid, for herself.
" In God's name, how got you in there .' "

"In God's name, how got you out ther >" said
Holyday, vexatiously. "A minute ago you were
here, and I was there. You could not come out, so

266

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

I went for this gentleman, who lifted mc to the top
of the wall — "

" Which was a service not included in the con-
tract," remarked Cutting Tom.

"And here I dropped, thinking to find you,"
continued Holyuay, in exasperation, "and to help )ou
out as he helped me in. And now — "

" Well, I am out, nevertheless," she replied,
quickly. "So come you out, pray, without more
ado ; my father may discover at any moment — "

" Why, devil take me ! " cried Holyday, in despair.
" I cannot climb the wall ; there's none here to give
me a shoulder."

" Is there nothing there you caii climb upon .' "
queried Cutting.Tom.

" Yes," cried Millicent, taking the answer upon
herself ; " there are benches. Oh, pray, make haste,
Master Holyday ! "

Soon Master Holyday could be heard dragging a
bench across the sward ; in its ordinary position
it would not give him sufficient height, so he
seemed to busy himself in placing it properly for
his purpose. "Nomine fatris !" he exclaimed as he
bruised his fingers. Finally a t' against the
upper part of the gate indicate :hat he had
fixed the bench slantwise. Mounting the incline
chiefly by means of hands and knees, he stood
trembling at the top, high enough to get a purchase

THE POET AS A MAN OF ACT/ON. 267

of his elbows on the gate, and so to wriggle his bo(l\-
over.

Millicent breathed more freely as soon as his head
and shoulders appeared ; but, as he was righting him-
self on the gate-top in order to drop safely outside,
there came a voice from within the garden :

"Hey? How now? Good lack, more comings
and goings ! "

"Oh, God! that meddling Sir Peregrine!" cried
Millicent. "We are found out. Hurry, Master
Holyday!"

The poet, startled, was still upon the gate, staring
back into the garden. With a revival of earlier
igility, the old knight came up the sloping bench at
a run, took hold of the gate's top with one hand, and
of Master Holyday's neck with the other. His eyes
fell upon the pair waiting outside. It was not too
dark for him to recognise a figure which he had oft
observed with the interest of future ownership.

"What! Mistress Millicent! And who's this?
Master Holyday, o' my life ! 'Zooks and "zounds !
here's doings ! "

The poet, suddenly alive, jerked his neck from the
old knight's grasp, and threw himself from the gate
without thought of consequences. Luckily, Tom
caught him by the body, and saved his neck, though
both men were heavily jarred by the collision.

" Come ! " cried Millicent, seizing Holyday by the

368

CAPTAIN SAVENSHAW.

sleeve ere he had got his balance. She darted down
Friday Street, the poet staggering headlong after
her, Cutting Tom close in the rear.

" What, ho ! " cried Sir Peregrine, astonished out

of his wits. <« Stop ! stay ! The watch ! constables !

Master Ethendge I Runaways, runaways, runaways ! "

His voice waned in the distance behind Millicent

as she hastened on. She still held the poet's sleeve ;

he breathed fast and hard, but said nothing. In

front of the White Horse, four men, at a gruff word

from Cutting Tom, fell in with the fugitives, and the

whole party of seven ran on without further speech.

For a short time, tramping and breathing were the

only sounds in Millicent's ears ; but soon there came

a renewed and multiplied cry of "Runaways! stop

them ! " whereby she knew that Sir Peregrine had

given the alarm, and that her father and his lads had

started in pursuit.

"God send we get to the boat in time I " she said,
as she halted for a single step so that Master Holy,
day might take the lead. She cast a swift look over
her shoulder, and saw two or three torches flaring in
the distance.

Holyday led across Knightrider Street obliquely,
then down the lower part of Bread Street, along a
little of Thames Street, and through a short passage
to Queenhithe. This wharf enclosed three sides
of a somewhat rounded basin, wherein a number of

THE rOET AS A MAN OF ACT/OX.

369

craft now lay at rest in tho black water that lapped
softly as stirr;d by the tide and a light wind.
Mouses were built close together on all three sides.
The poet made straight along the east side of the
basin, and down a narrow flight of stairs to a large
boat that lay there. A man started up in the boat,
and held out his hand to help the maid aboard, light-
ing her steps with a lantern in his other hand, — for
a veil of clouds had swept across the sky from the
west, and the only considerable light upon the wharf
was from a lantern before one of the gabled houses,
and from the lattice windows of a tavern. Other
boatmen steadied the vessel, so that Millicent
boarded without accident; Holyday, coming next,
and setting foot blindly upon the gunwale, rather
fell than stepped in. Cutting Tom and his men hud-
dled aboard, and the whole party crowded together
astern, to lea\ e room forward for the rowers.
" Whither .' " asked the waterman in command.
Why, down-stream, of course," replied Holyday.

you not — how now.' Where is Bill

" Know
Tooby .'

" Bill Tooby > He is yonder in his boat, waiting
for some that have bespoke him." The man pointed
across the basin.

Holyday was stricken faint of voice. "Oh,
miserere!" he wailed. "He is waiting for us.
We have come to the wrong stairs."

270

CAPTAIN KAl-F.NSlrAW.

" Hark ! " cried Millicent.

Cries of -Runaways! Stop them! Stop the
maid!" were approaching from, apparently, the
vicinity of Knightrider Street.

"We must e'en change to the other boat," said
Holyday, despairingly.
"Oh, heaven, there is not time!" cried Millicent.
"If you be in haste," said the waterman, "stay
where ye are. Whither shall we carry ye.'"

" Nay, nay, I durst not ! " cried Holyday, and yet
stood in helpless indecision.

"Come, then!" said Millicent, and leaped from
the boat to the stairs. Reaching back for Holyday's
hand, she pulled him after her, dragged him up the
steps, and led him around the three sides of the
basin, their five protectors following close.

A larger oat, manned with a more numerous
crew, was in waiting at the western stairs. The
waterman with whom Ravenshaw had bargained in
the morning, making sure of Holyday's face in the
light of a lantern, guided the fugitives aboard with
orderly swiftness. But already the noise of pursuit
was in Thames Street; ere the last man— a slim
fellow wi n a thickly bearded face, which he carried
well forward from his body — was embarked, the
cries, swelling suddenly as the pursuers emerged
from the narrow passage, were upon the wharf,
and the red flare of torches came with them.

THE I'OET AS A MAN OF ACTION. 271

The party in chase was headed by the gold-
smith himself, no covering on his head, his gray
hair standing out in the breezw ; then came his
apprentices, and sundry persons who had joined in
the hue and cry ; the rear was brought up by Sir
Peregrine, lamed and winded. Master Etheridgc
made out the party in the boat at once, and, with
threatening commands to the waterman to stop, led
his people around to the stairs.

"Cast off!" growled Bill Tooby, the waterman,
pulling the slim fellow aboard. The order was
obeyed, and Millicent, who had sat more dead than
alive since her father had come into sight, saw
the wharf recede, and a strip of black water spread
between the boat and the torch-lit party that stood
gazing from the stairs.

"Oh, wench, I'll make thee rue this day!" cried
the goldsmith, shaking his arms after the boat. As
for Sir Peregrine, he looked utterly nonplussed.

Then her father spoke hurriedly to his followers,
and called loudly for a boat. The waterman to
whom Holyday had first led his own party was quick
to respond. Meanwhile Tooby's craft headed down-
stream. Millicent, looking anxiously back over the
water, saw the other boat, or its lantern and one of
the torches, shoot out from the stairs.

" Think you they will catch us ? " she asked Mas-
ter Holyday.

' fl!

272

CAPTAIN KhVENSHAW.

"I thinK nothing," said the poet, dejectedly,
really thinking very small of himself for the mistake
which had enabled the goldsmith to come upon their
heels.

Surprised at the apparent change in Master Holy-
day since the forenoon, she turned to Tooby. " What
think you, waterman ? "

" Why, mistress, an they make better speed than
we, belike they'll catch us ; but, an we make bectcr
speed than they, belik-.; they'll not catch us," growled
Tooby.

"And that's the heU of it ! " quoth Cutting lorn.

dly,
ake
leir

oly-
bat

lan
tcr
led

CHAPTER XVII.

DIRE THINGS BEFALL IN THE FOREST.

• N.y, nothing. Do not think I «n .(„«,
Although perhip. y„„ „,.• .. _ B,„ar,' Bh,A.

The two lar^e boats were not alone upon the
nver. Here and there, in the distance, moved
•■e f ny hghts of a wherry carrying a benighted
fare; and up toward the palaces and Westmin,tcr
more than one cluster of lanterns and torches swept
along, where some party of ladies and gentlemen
were rowed to a mask or other revels. From one
such company the western breeze brought the strains
of guitars; Bill Tooby and his comrade., infected
with the spirit of melody, began to sing "Heave and
ho. rumbelow." in deep voices, in time with the
movement of their bodies.

Along the northern bank of the river, where
the dwe,angs and warehouses of merchants rose
I.ke a wall from the water's edge, the dim lights of
windows ran in a straggling, interrupted line. Far-
ther west, where the river washed the stairs to
the gardens of the great Strand residences and

'73

274

CAPTAIN KAVENSIIAW.

of the Temple, there were scarce any lights at
all. On the south bank, a few glowing windows
marked the row of taverns and other houses — many
of them of questionable repute — which, set back
a little from the river, concealed the bear-gardens
and playhouses in the fields behind. But soon, as
the boat sped down-stream, the buildings on that
bank were flush with the shore, save where Winches-
ter House showed a few lighted windows beyond its
terrace. Little did Millicent imagine that anything
bearing upon her destiny had ever been spoken or
thought on that terrace or in that house. In front,
spanning the river, another irregular row of window
lights indicated the tall, close-built houses of London
Uridge ; and the roar of the water, first dammed by
the piers and then falling in a kind of cataract
through the twenty arches, was already loud in
the ears.

Millicent kept her eyes on the lights of the boat
behind, — only two lights, a lantern at the prow, and
a torch held by some one near the stern. They
came steadily on, seeming neither to lose nor gain.
Suddenly she lost sense of them ; but that was when
her own boat plunged into one of the arches of the
bridge, and seemed to be gulped down by a blacker
night, a chill air, and a thunderous noise. Forward
and slightly downward the boat flung itself, as if into
some gulf of the undf -world, but all of a sudden it

was out ,,ai„ in the soft air nnd the calm water, ,„,.■

M.I.ccnt ook,ngu,, ,,,.hcIitwindow. of ,h
eastern s,.lc of the bridge. She continued ,a.'^

back, and very soon the two lights, the li,„o yd J
one and the trading red one. came into view ,k ween

the p.crs.st.nm pursuit at the same distance

"They don't gain upon us," growled Cutting Ton,,

w.th a ,,,„e of making him.,elf agreeable to the

tonl""' ""'^ ''" "*" '"'"'" '"''' ^^'"'""'' '" ' "-""blc-d

"Why sooth, an they still gain not, 'tis sure
they'll ne'e- catch us."

""ut th can see where we land," said she, "and
they can lanu there, too, and so follow us to the end-
said Tom " 'r ''" ''"'' ''"" ""^""^^ '"— ^••
saul Tom, g^ndy. .-I'd as lief split a throat this
night as another.

"Oh, no; in heaven's name, no!" she cried.
We must escape them without that. No blows,
I beg of you, whate'er befall ! "

■; Yet you see how they stick to our heels. How
.sj,^ waterman? Shall we not give 'em the slip

"Belike, and belike not." replied Toobv -We
can do our best, no more."

Suddenly Ma.ster Holyday, thinking in some man-
ner to redeem h.mself, had an inspiration.

If: .

276

CAPTAIN RAVENSllAW.

"How if they couldn't see to follow us?" he
asked, abruptly. " How if we put out our lights and
went on in the dark ? "

" Not for ten pound a minute," said Tooby,
" would I row without lights, a night like this. Tis
bad enow as it is, with all the ships and small boats
lying in the Pool here. E'en with our lanterns, we
shall do well an we bump not our nose."

There was a silence, broken only by the plash of
the oars, the creak of the rowlocks, the strange
noises of the river, the lessening sound of what an
obscure dramatist of those days describes as

" The bridge's cataracts, and such-like murmurs
As night and sleep yield from a populous number."

"But I will e'en try something better," added
Tooby, presently, and forthwith gave an inaudible
order to his men.

They instantly stopped rowing, and even proceeded
to stay the boat's movement with the current, so
that it remained almost stationary.

Millicent cried out in alarm as the lights behind
came rapidly nearer.

" Peace, mistress," said Tooby. " There will be
no blood spilled." He then spoke in a low tone to
the men in the bow, and himself strode to the stern,
where he stood with his long arms slightly crooked
at the elbows as if to be in readiness for action.

^f^E rmA'GS BEFALL /^ THE EOKEST. 27;

Swiftly the other boat came alongside. Milliccnt
hod. he. breach, wondering what was about t'

att tulo; °"' V''" '"^"''"^ ^^'^ - 'he

so that hzs beard was between his knees, and two
of the apprentices, one of whom held the torch
"Ay thou dost well to yield, wench!" spake the

rhr:;r""^°-^'^^"'---°~

" ItlTy ''"'" °"' ^"^ ^^^^8^'"^' --eassuringly,
no need to run away from me; I'll give thee no

cause for jealousy. I promise thee.-

Master Etheridge stood up to reach out for his

struck the torch-bearing apprentice's hand, and
defy caught the torch away. She heard a slight
cr sh forward; and then her own boat shot through

one of .oobys men having knocked the lantern

from Its prow with an oar.

Millicent gave a quick breath of relief and put on
her cloak ; but then she thought of the other boat"

-ger o running into something, or of being r„
Jown ,tsclf, and of this she spoke

" ^^'^' '"'"''" ^"'d Tooby. " He'll no more ven-

378

CAPTAIN RAVENSllAW.

hi-

ture in the dark than I wnuld. We'll fast put yon
ship's hull 'twixt them and s, and be out of their
ken ere ever they can get c light. And now pull,
hearts, for the honour of watermen ! "

Soon the lights on the left bank, becoming fewer,
took such height and shape that Millicent knew her
boat was passing the Tower. Somewhere there the
water plashed against the underground stairs of
Traitors' Gate, that arched cavern which had lifted
its iron door often in nights as dark as this, to admit
some noble prisoner whose face, redly pale in the
torchhght, betokened a heart chilled with a feeling
that those damp walls formed a vestibule of death.
Master Holyday, for all that was upon his mind,
thought of these things, and of much else in the
night-clad surroundings ; but Millicent kept her eyes
fixed on the darkness behind, alert for any moving
light that might appear in chase.

None such appeared ; and by the time the boat
had traversed the city of great ships, and had come
to where the lights upon the banks were few, and
the mysterious noises of the town had given place to
those of the country, she had cast away all fear of
danger from behind.

At Depttord they passed one ship, of which Milli-
cent took no more note than she took of any other of
the countless vessels whose lights dotted the gloom
around her that night ; but on which she might have

DfHB rm.VCS BEFALL W THE FOREST. 279

bestowed a seamd look had she known all that was
to be known.

The tide, the current, and the wind being with the
rowers, it seemed not long till Tooby hinted that
Master Holyday would do well to keep his ey.s open
for the place of landing. The scholar, scanning the
blue-black darkness in perplexity, said that he could
not for his life see anything of the shore. Tooby
asked him whether he knew the different landmarks
by name. The scholar was acquainted with those
m the neighbourhood of where they should land.
Thenceforth the waterman called out the name of
each village, wharf, riverside tavern, hiil, tributary, or
well-known country-seat, the contents of the darkness
bemg known to him perhaps by his sense of distance
perhaps by reference to some far-off light, perhaps
sometimes by the smell of marsh or wood. Holyday
began to recognise the names; and at last told the
waterman to put ashore at the mouth of a certain
creek.

The boat glided along a low bank and stopped.
Tooby, standing up, held out his lantern to show
where there was safe footing. Master Holyday
leapmg out too hastily, alighted up to his knees ir
water. MiUicent, aided by the waterman's hand'
stepped ashore. Cutting Tom and his men lost no
time. Ere it seemed possible, the lights of the boat
were moving swiftly away. Its departure, and espe-

28o

CAPTAIHf KAVENSIIAW.

cially that of Tooby, left Milliccnt with a sudden
pang of loneliness and misgiving. But she reflected
that the last stage of her flight was reached ; taking
new heart, she grasped Holyday's sleeve, and waited
to be led.

The party had two lanterns and a torch, all which
had been lighted in the boat. Cutting Tom assigned
one lantern to Holyday, the other to the slim fellow
with the projecting head, the torch to himself. The
poet, with a deep sigh, and craning his neck to
peer into the mysterious blackness beyond the little
area of feeble light, started forward ; Millicent
clung to his elbow ; Cutting Tom placed himself at
her other side, and the four men followed close.

The walkers proceeded slowly. Master Holyday
having often to stop to ascertain his way. At first
the turf under them was springy, then it became
softer, and someti. les one's foot would sink into a
tiny pool ; then the ground became higher, and pres-
ently they entered a wooc" This seemed intermi-
nable ; not only was poor Master Holyday compelled
':o pause every minute to identify his whereabouts
but also the protruding roots, fallen boughs, and
frequent underbrush made every step a matter of
care.

As they moved their torch and lanterns, so the
light and shadow constantly moved about them ;
trunks and boughs, bush and brake, would suddenly

. Irii

^I/^E Tm^CS BEFALL m THE Eo.EST. 2^X
appear and as quickly vanish as the ydl„w nvs
swung here and there. The breeze rustled .nc^
.n«y among the leaves, and the air was pleasa v I
wi 1 "• .M"'-"t'« fancy peopled the shade
w.th sleeping giants, goblins, witches, dragons, and all

ir "sTe 1^'^°" '-'- "' ^^'^'- -''^" hts
errant. She thought a similar terror must have
come ,,, ,,,^^^^ ^^^ ^^^^^^^^^ ^^^^^ have

when he strove to pierce the shadows with wide-open

one of the men had stepped up to the other side of

Holyday and t.ghtly grasped his arm.

^^^•T.s a weary journey, mistress," complained the

th,'; '''''' '. ?' '' '''''^"' '^'''" ^='"' ^he, feeling
that one of the two must show a light heart. HoK^

days manner all evening had been so at variance

hou.s earher, that she made no - ^n^pt to understand
the a^terat,on; she merely at. ded to the need of
keepmg up h.s sp.r.ts. though her own heart faltered.
But she could not help adding : -. Is there much more
of this wood to go through > "

"More than I wish there were." replied Holyday
They went some distance farther in silence. Then
the shm fellow with a lantern suddenly gave two
coughs. Instantly Cutting Tom gripped Millicem's
arm, stood stJl, and said to Holyday:

283

CAPTAIN RAVENSl/AW.

" A plague on your eyes, sir ! you are leading us
the wrong way."

Holyday, stopping perforce with all the rest, re-
plied, in amazement : " 'Tis tue right way ; I have
come by this path to fish in the Thames a hundred
times."

" I'oh ! fish me no fish, sir ! " cried Cutting Tom,
while the slim lantern-bearer strode around to the
front. "Am I to be led astray, and this maid here,
for your designs ? You have dragged us too long
through this cursed wood — and that's the hell of it ! "
"Tis the right way, I tell you," said Holyday;
"and how can you say otherwise, when you know
not whither we are bound?"

" But I do know whither we are bound — and
that's the hell of it ! "

"I begin to think you are an impudent fellow,"
quoth Holyday, momentarily reckless through loss of
patience ; " and t/uti's the hell of it, in your Bedlam
gibberish ! "

" Death ! " bellowed Cutting Tom ; " ' hell of it '
belongs to me ; no man in England dare steal my
speech ! "

He handed his torch to one of the men, ran at the
scholar, dealt him a blow between the eyes, seized
his lantern,' and dragged Millicent away, motioning
the slim knave to lead on. The knave took a direc-
tion leftward from cheir former one.

D/KE THINGS BEFALL IN THE FOKEST 283

"What mean you?" cried the maid, trying to
release herself. " I'll not leave Master Ilolyday."

One of the men caught her by the free arm, and
she was borne away by him and Cutting Tom. Glanc-
ing back, she saw that the two remaining men, one
of whom had quickly stuck the torch in the ground,
were grappling with Holyday, who was struggling
between them.

" In God's name, what would you do ? " Millicent
cried, as her captors hastened on at the heels of the
new guide.

The men vouchsafed no answer. After a little
while, at a word fnm Cutting Tom, they stopped
and waited. Tom gave a whistle, which was answered
from the direction whence they had last come, —
evidently by one of the men who had remained with
Holyday. Being at intervals repeated, and answered
at lessening distances, the vhistle proved to be for
the purpose of guiding these two men. Soon they
appeared with the torch, but without Holyday.

"Oh, heaven! what have you done with him.'"
cried Millicent, turning cold.

" Only lightened him of these, lady," said one of
the twain, indicating a bundle of clothing under his
arm.

"And left him tied safe m a tree, lest he roam
about r the dark and do jimself an injury," quoth
the other.

284

CAPTAIN KAVENSllAW.

"Come," said Tom, tightening his grasp on the
girl's arm. The guide moved on, and the i)arty
made haste through the forest.

" Whither are you taking me ? " Millicent asked,
tearfully, but got no reply. Wondering and ap-
palled, scarce believing she was herself, oft doubting
the reality of this strange journey, she walked as she
was compelled.

At last they came out of the wood and made their
way over a flat, heathy plain. It seemed to Milli-
cent that they had worked back to the neighbourhood
of the river. Cutting Tom grew impatient, muttered
to himself, and presently asked : " How far now .' "

" 'Tis straight before us," said the guide, in a voice
muffled as if by the heavy beard that covered his
face.

A narrow rift in the clouds let through a moment's
moonlight ; Millicent had a brief vision of lonely
country, with a little cluster of gables ahead ; then
all was blotted out in thicker darkness.

CHAPTER XVIII.

RAVENSHAW's SLEEP IS INTERRUPTED.
" CipUin, rally up you, rot,.„ „gi™„,, „d b.,on..- - ^ AW -n,! No Ki.,.

Master Jernincham, having communicated his
good hopes to Sir Clement Ermsby on the deck of
his ship, considered that, as the maid was not to
leave London till nightfall, and. as he was now be-
tween London and the Grange, he had ample time to
reach his country-house and send away the captain
ere she could be brought there by her escort. He
therefore resolved to proceed with leisure and order.
And first, as he had long fasted, and as he had a
night's business before him, he went ashore to his
accustomed tavern at Deptford, and had supper with
Sir Clement in a room where they were alone.

" We shall take one of our own boats and four of
our men," said Jerningham, "and row down to the
old landing at the Grange. Tis but a short walk
thence to the house. You and two of the men
would best wait without the house, whilst I go in
and send away Ravenshaw. If he saw you and so
many men he might smell some extraordinary busi-
»85

286

CAPTAIN RAVEt/SnAW.

'"\

ness, and have the curiosity to set himself against
my orders."

"If he should do so, nevertheless," said KrmsLj,
" then, as you said awhile ago — You may want
our help in that."

" Then I must e'en call you. Kut I shall try to
have him without his weapons."

" What would Mistress Meg say to another ghost
in the house .' "

" Hang her, mad wench ! Ay, she would be howl-
ing of murder and blood. I know not — she might
fly to my lord bishop with the news. Well, I can
tie her up and lock her in a chamber, at the worst.
Yet she is a very devil. I think I'd best breed no
more trouble at the last. I'll not have the knave
killed unless he cannot be got away otherwise."

" An you send him away, will you leave some one
in his place .' "

"Ay, to keep Meg quiet till we are safe at sea.
I'll leave Meadows, and charge him not to tell her
of our sailing. He is a trusty fool."

" But what will she say to this goldsmith's wench
being housed overnight in the Grange ? "

"Why, I'll have a tale ready when we arrive:
that I am saving the maid from a runaway marriage,
to take back to her father ; or that the maid is for
you ; or some such story."

"Best say the maid is for me. Women who

x^yBAs//.i,ys sLKnr /.v ixmnnrrmn. 287

have gone that road are ever ready to push other-
into it."

" Not always. liut I shall contrive to make i.fcg
tolerate the other's presence for a few hours, e'en
If I must do it with promises. I can offer to find
her a husband, - this Ravenshaw, an she like his
looks, or another that may be bought. 1 think she
has grown out of her sulks, and into the hope of
rehabilitation, by this time. As for the Cheapside
maid, first I will try wooing; she may be compliant
of her own accord. But if she hold out, there's
nothmg for it but the sleeping potion. G-cgory
will fetch that with him ; I bade him get it in Buck-
lersbury on his way to Friday Street."
" May it give her pleasant dreams ! "
"When she is fast asleep." continued Jemingham,
"I'll leave Gregory to watch her. and we'll come
back to welcome my lord bishop in the morning
And to-morrow, when my lord has seen the last of
us, and the tide is bearing us down the river we
need only put the ship to at the old landing, walk to
the house, and carry her aboard. There will be
none to see but Me„' and old Jeremy, and they shall
not know the ship is ours, or that we are farther
bound than Tilbury."

Sir Clement's appetite, which had been less
neglected of late, was satisfied before Jerningham's,
and the knight proposed that he should go and get

388

CAPTAIS KAVENSIIAW.

thu boat in readiness while the other finished eating.
Jerningham consented, naming the men who were to
be taken from the ship's crew upon the night's
business.

" I will join you very soon," said he, as Sir Clem-
ent left the room.

Jerningham brought his supper to an end, and
bade a drawer fetch the reckoning. Waiting for
thu boy's return, he flung himself on his back on
a bench that stood against .e wall. The knowledge
that all was provided for, that his course was fully
thought out, and that only action lay before him,
brought to his mind a restfulncss it had not lately
known. The effect of his heavy meal acted with this
to snare his senses ; so long it was since sleep had
overtaken him, he was not on guard against it. When
the tavern lad came back with the score, the gentle-
man's eyes were closed, his breathing was slow and
deep. Knowing by experience that sleeping gentle-
men sometimes resented disturbance, the drawer
went away more quietl ■ than i.e had entered ; Mas-
ter Jerningham was a good customer, and might as
well pay last as first.

Sir Clement saw the boat ready, and then busied
himself in the study of maps and charts by candle-
light in Ihe cabin, pending Jerningham's appearance.
In his preoccupation, he lost thought of the night's
affair, in which Jerningham bore all the responsi-

A-AynA-s/tAits sLe/-:/- /s inthkkvi'tep. jSo

bility. lie Ux)k no observance of the increasing
darlcncss outside, until at last lie became wonder-
ingly sensible of Jcrningham's delay. Hastening
ashore, he found the sleeper in the tavern.

"Good God I" cried Jcrningham, springing up at
his friend's call ; '< what's the hour.' How long have
I slept ? Death I is all lost .' "

" Nay, there is time, if we bestir ourselves."
" Then we must fly. My plans are all undone if
she be there before I send away that captain."

Learning what o'clock it was, Jerningham found
he had yet time to write a short pretended letter, to
serve as pretext for Ravenshaw's journey. This
done, he hastened to the boat.

Not until I .• was being rowed past Blackwall, did
it jccui to him that, in the haste of departure, he
had not looked to the thorough arming of the party,
and that there was not a firearm with the whole
company.

" Oh, pish ! there is steel enough among us to cut
eight captains' throats with a clean blade apiece, an
it comes to throat-cutting," said Er isby.

" 'Twould come to that soon er ,ugh, but for the
storm Meg would raise. Plague take her ! would I
b-id the heart to quiet her the sure way ! But I can-
not steel myself to that. I must be led by circum-
stance ; 'tis for this captain's doings to say whether
his throat need be cut. He had no pistol when he

290

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

left me. As for his sword and dagger " — here Jer-
ningham raised his voice and- called to one of the men
rowing : " Goodcole, thou hast some skill in sleights,
and cutting purses, and the like, I have heard."

" Ay, sir," was the confident reply. " In my time
I have been called the knave with the invisible
fingers. My friends used to say I could filch a
man's shirt off his back while he stood talking to
me in the street."

" Poh ! " growled another of the men ; " I much
doubt whether you can pick a pocket."

" Here's a handful of testers I picked from youis,"
said Goodcole, resting his oar for a moment that he
might return his comrade the coins.

There was a brief stoppage from rowing while the
other men hastily investigated the condition of their
own pockets.

" Excellent Goodcole ! " quoth Sir Clement Ermsby.
" Thou art a proficient in a most delicate craft."

"Thou couldst take away a man's sword and
dagger ere he knew it, belike," said Jerningham.

" I could take away his teeth, or the thoughts in
the centre of his head," promptly answered Good-
cole.

" Perchance I shall put thee to the test by and
by," said Jerningham.

In good time they found the landing with their
lights, made the boat f.ist, and hastened through the

KAVEA-SHAW'S SLEEP IS nVTERRVriEU 20I

darkness to the country-house. The gate of the
courtyard was not fastened. Jerningham first led
the way to a small penthouse in one corner of the
yard, where he desired that Sir Clement and two <,f
the men should remain until he saw how the captain
took the new commands.

"And e'en when the maid is brought," he added,
with a sudden afterthought, "best you be not seen
at the first ; wait till I try whether she is to be won
softly. If she saw you she might remember that
night, and be thrown into greater fear and opposi-
tion. I'll call when I have need of you."

He then went with Meadows and Goodcole to the
door within the porch ; finding it made fast inside,
he gave two rapid double knocks, then two single-
ones. Soon a tiny wicket opened behind a little
grating in the door. Jerningham held a lantern
close to his face so that he might be quickly recog-
nised. The door opened, and Jerningham foun'd
Mistress Meg alone in the hall, where the light of
a single candle struggled with the darkness." The
lantern and torch brought in by the newcomers
were a welcome reinforcement. Jerningham set the
lantern on the chimney shelf, and had the torch
thrust in,,) a .sconce on the wall.

" Did the new steward come.' " he asked,
"The new steward.'" quoth Meg, with faint
derision at the title. " Yes ; am I not still here .' "

;li

292

CAPTA/,v ravensiia;v.

•• Where is he ? " asked the master, ignoring the
allusion to her threat.

"In his chamber. He arrived, ate, drank, went
thither ; and I have not seen him since."

A sudden light came into Jerningham's eyes.
"Ten to one he sleeps. He had a ' .borious day
of it ere he came hither. What weapons had he
when he came .' "

" Rapier and dagger," answered Meg, looking sur-
prised at the question.

"Twere a good jest now," said Jemingham, pre-
tending amusement, " to take them from him in his
sleep, then come away and send Jeremy to wake
him."

" Is he the kind of man to see the mirth of that
jest ? " inquired Meg, with little interest.

"We shall see if he be. Goodcole, a chance to
prove your mettle. Where's Jeremy.' Pray send
him to me, mistress, and I'll thank you."

While Meg was at the kitchen door calling the old
man-servant, Jemingham spoke quietly to Goodcole.
Jeremy appeared, blinking and bowing ; as he passed
Meg, he chuckled, and said, in undertone, " A hus-
band mends all, sooth ! " Master Jemingham, ascer-
taining from Meg what chamber the captain lay in,
bade the old man show Goodcole the way. The pair
took a lantern, of which Goodcole concealed ail but
a small part in his jerkin.

J^AyEA'sfj^nvs SLEEP ,s mrEi^A-vrrED. .93

During the absence of the two, Jernin^ham

directed Meg's attention to Meadows :<. Thrift!^

on bus.ness that bears no delay, -him that lies u,3-
a.rs, I mean. 'Tis partly for that reason I hal
come here. And partly 'tis that I may, for an hour
or so, play the host to a visitor that must perfo e
lodge here to-night, -a young woman."

He paused; but Meg merely paid attention to
h.m w. h eyes and ears, and displayed no emotion.
i>he ,s daughter to a merchant I much esteem
•n London ; she has been in some manner bewitch d
or constramed, or seduced, to fly from her home
to th.s neighbourhood with an unthrift knave. By
chance th. plot came to my ears, and for her father's
sake, and her honour's, I have caused her to be sta-d
n her fl.ght and fetched hither. To-morrow I S
o^eand^put her aboard a vessel that shall carry

affars. If ,t fall to you to comfort or serve her
wh.le she is here, take heed you talk nothing o
the matter, for all she may say to you And not

L:oii;:.,----"--aw:hr

VVhatever were Meg's thoughts, she kept them

witches, she was not to be thrown out of com
posure by surprises and visits, even if they came

294

CAPTAIN RA VENSHA W.

thick in a few hours, after months of the still
and solitary life that was the rule at the Grange.
Goodcole and Jeremy returned, the former carry-
ing the rapier and dagger with a nonchalant, even
contemptuous, air, as if his task had been too easy.
Jerningham smiled approval ; he took the weapons,
thrust the dagger in h. girdle, and laid the rapier
behind him on the table, as his own scabbard was, of
course, occupied. He then sent Jeremy back with a
candle to summon che captain down to the hall.

When the captain came, it was he that held
the candle ; while with one hand he dragged Jeremy
by the collar.

"Hell and furies!" he roared; "what nest of
rogues, what den of thieves, what — what — " He
paused, and stared open-mouthec. at Jerningham,
who was standing with folded r.rms and a look of
amusement.

" How now, captain .' What is ill with you .' "

"My weapons, sir — my rapier, my dagger —
angled, filched, stolen in my sleep! God's death,
is this the kind of a house you keep here ? — ih,
you have them, I see."

But Jerningham pleasantly raised his hand, so
that the captain in mere courtesy stopped in the
midst of a stride forward, and waited for the
other's words.

"A slight piece of mirth, captain, and a lesson

JiAyEJVS/MlVS SLEEP IS WTEKKUVrED. 2C,S
for you, too Coming hither upon a sudden busi-
ness, and learning you were so sound a sleeper
I saw my chanee of disarming you, and showing
you what danger a man may be in asleep."

"Why. sooth, I am not wont to sleep so soand "
said Ravcnshaw, a little shamefacedly; "but bein-
come to this quiet and lone place, I allowed myserf
to slide, as one might say, and -so 'twas. 15ut
to take my weapons from me awake, that were
a different business, sir, I think I may say."
"All the world knows that, captain."
"By your leave, sir. Ml have them back again,
I feel awkward without 'em."

"A mere moment, I pray you, captain," said Jer-
nmgham, with a smile of harmless raillery -I
would have you hear first the business I have
come hither so late to send you upon. As it is
so sudden a matter, and hath some discomfort in
It, you might take it in choler; and then 'twere best
you had no steel to your hand."

Ravenshaw thought that his master's wit was
of a very childish quality; but said, merely, as he
summoned patience :

"What is the business ? "

"Oh, a slight, simple matter in itself, but needing
absolute sureness in the doing, and instant speed
m the starting. This letter is to be carried to
Dover, to him that is named upon it, and an

Hi!
' 'i

296

CAPTAIN RAVENSIIAW.

answer brought to mc at Winchester House. That
is all."

"Oh, pish! a slight, paltry journey; nothing to
make me choleric. With the horse I rode to-day,
I'll go and come in four days."

Which was very good time upon the horses and
roads of that period.

" But there's the pinch," quoth Jerningham, " I
must have the answer Monday morning ere the
Exchange opens. You must know I take a gentle-
man's part in a merchant's venture or so, and if
certain cargoes now due at Dover — In short,
you must ride forih immediately, as soon as horse
can be saddled."

Ravenshaw, remembering his promise to pay Cut-
ting Tom at the parson's on the morrow noon,
slowly shook his head.

" How now, captain .' Would you shirk at the
outset .' Will you be continually failing me .' This
is no such matter as the other, man."

" I do not shirk ; but I will not start to-night. I
will S2t forth to-morrow, and make what speed man
and beast can."

" Look you, captain ; my commands are that you
set forth now. If you choose to throw yourself out
upon the world again — "

Jerningham paused. Now, in truth, Ravenshaw
had felt he could be very comfortable for a time

SAyEA^S/Miy-S SLEJiP /S INTEKKUrTKD. 397

on this quiet estate ; his body and his wits, both
somewhat overtaxed in the struggle for existence
he had so long maintained, plead for repose. He
sighed, and fell back upon obvious objections, not
aware that Jerningham already knew of his engage-
ment for the morrow with Cutting Tom.

"Why, bethink you, the darkness — " he blun-
dered.

"A man may go a steady pace by lantern-light.
I've ridden many a mile so," said Jerningham.

"But how is a n>an to keep the right road, with
none awake to tell him .' "

"You must know the way to the highroad,
for you came over it to-day; and you must know
the highroad as far as to Canterbury, for you told
me so when I directed you to this place. It will be
daylight long before you come to Canterbury."
The captain shook his head again.
Jerningham felt that time was passing rapidly
"If you are for disobedience, you are no lon-er
for my service," he said. '-Take yourself from
my house and my land forthwith."

Ravenshaw laughed; and stood mo'.ionless, which
was what Jerningham wished, in case the captain
was determined against an immediate start for
Dover, for it would not do to have him free in the
neighbourhood, perchance to learn of the treachery
concerning the maid in time to give trouble. It had

298

CAPTAIN KAVEXSIIAW:

octurretl to Jcrninj^ham that a thrcateninj; step on
the ca|)tuiii's part, by afforehng c.ncusc for a deal o(
blootl, wDulii lessen its horror and create in Mcj;,
with less fear of retribution uiion the house, less
mot'', for turning accuser. So he resumed, with
studied ofifensivcness of tone :

"Hegone from my house, I bid you!" With
which, he drew the captain's dagger as if he forgot it
was not his own.

Jerningham's back was to the table ; Ravcnshaw
faced him, three or four paces away ; by the front
door St A Meadows, with a long knife in his girdle ;
Goodcole, before the fireplace, was similarly armed.
Meg and Jeremy, wondering spectators, were near
the kitchen door. Ravenshaw noted all this in a
single glance right and left ; noted in the looks of
the two men the habit of instant readiness to support
their master.

" Pray, consider the hour," said Ravenshaw, feel-
ing it was a time for temporising.

" 'Tis for you to consider ; I command," said
Jerningham, taking the captain's sword from the
table behind him.

" You should give me my weapons before you bid
me depart," said the captain, in as light a tone as he
could assume.

" When you are gone, I will throw them after
you."

/iAl-F.A'S//.tWS SLEKP IS I.VTI-KKrrTI-IK 299

Ravcnshaw dashed forward with a k^wI ; but
stopix-d short in time, with the point ol |,i.s' .nvn
sword at his breast. 1 le had an impidsc to -rasp the
blade; but he knew, if he were quick enou-h for
that, there was yet the da-ger to be reckoned with.
besides the two men, who drew their knives at that
moment. Jerningham seemed to l)racc him.sulf for a
spring ; he held the captain's sword and dag-er as in
sockets of iron ; a dark gleam shone in his eyes.
Ravenshaw knew the look ; time and again he had
worn it himself; he knew also when, as player in a
game, he was within a move of being checkmated.

"Well," quoth he, with a grin of resignation,
"you hold all the good cards. I will carry your
letter." He suddenly bethought him of a friend or
two in Rochester, which he would pass through early
in the morning if he made the journey, by whom he
might send Cutting Tom's money to the parson.
Contemplating the life of ease he had promised him-
self in his new service, he was not sorr> a good
pretext had occurred for withdrawing his refusal.

"You will set out immediately.'" asked Jerning-
ham.

"The sooner the better, now."

Jerningham sent the old man out with a lantern to
saddle the captain's horse and bring it to the door.
He then handed the letter to the captain, and gave
particular instruction.s, such as would bo necessary in

'Kl

300

CAPTAIN KAVEJVSl/AIV.

a genuine errand. Jeremy reappeared, at the front
door, and announced that the horse was ready. Jer-
ningham surrendered the captain's rapier and dai,ger
with grace, and gave him money for the journe)-.
Ravenshaw then examined the lantern which Jeremy
brought him, waved a farewell to Jemingham and
Meg, and strode to the door.

Jemingham breathed softly, lest even a sigh of
satisfaction might betray his sense of triumph. " She
is mine ! " sang his heart.

The door, left slightly ajar by the old man, opened
wide as if by a will of its own, just as the captain
was about to grasp it. A white-bearded, ruddy-faced
man, dressed in rags and upheld by one leg and a
crutch, stood grinning at the threshold.

" God save your worship ! " said he to the captain.
"We come late; but first our affairs hindered us,
and then we mistook the way. By good chance, we
find you awake ; else had we passed the night under
some penthouse or such, hereabouts, and come to
drink your health in the morning."

Ravenshaw having mechanically stepped back, the
old beggar hobbled in, followed by several other
maimed ragamuffins, with whom came the two
women Ravenshaw had seen in the afternoon, and
a pair of handsome frowsy young hussies who had
not appeared in the road. The legless dw i still
rode upon a comrade's shoulders. As the motley

KAysm/tAWs siEf.r /s iNTEKKirrri-.i). 301

.'nnfi trooijcd in, there was a groat clatter and thud
i>t crutches, wooden legs, and staves.

" God's death ! who are these ? " cried Jerningham,
m petulant astonishment.

"Some poor friends of mine I met on the way
hither," said Ravenshaw, ap<jlogeticaIIy. "I asked
them to sup with me here. I had well-nigh forgot."

" Sup with you I 15y what right — well, no matter
for that. Where did you think to find provender for
all those mouths .' "

"I was to find drink only; they were to find
meat."

" Ay," said the chief beggar, " chickpns ; and here
they he, young and plump." He thrust his hand
into a sack another fellow carried, and drew out a
cold roast pullet. The captain gazed at this .speci-
mer. with admiring eyes, and unconsciously licked
his lips

"By your leave," said he to Jerningham, "I'll
tarry but a half-hour to play the host to my invited
guests • and then away. I can make up the time ; a
half-hour, more or less "

"'Tis not to be thought of!" cried Jerningham.
" There has been too much time lost already."

" Nay, I'll make it up, I tell you. I am bound to
these people by my invitation ; they have come far
out of tlicir way."

" Oh, as for that, they need not go away thirsty.

302

rAPTAtX K,iriiA'<;//Alir.

Jeremy, take these - K<>od people to the kitchen.

and broach a cask." Master Jernir.gham. in his
desire for Ravcnshaw's departure, could force him-
self to any concession ; he considered that, left to
themselves, these beggars would be no obstacle to
his design ; they could be kept at their ale in the
kitchen.

"Why. to tell the truth." interposed the captain.
" 'tis not so much their thirst troubles me ; 'tis my
hunger." And he leaned a little toward the fowl,
sniffing, and feasting on it with his eyes.

"Take it with you, man. and eat as you ride." said
Jerningh.ir nill rosfinininr; his impatience.

"Why, that's fair enough," replied Ravcnshaw.
" I'll just drink one cup with these my guests, and
then leave 'em to your hospitality." Without more
ado, he walked to the kitchen door, where Jeremy
was standing, and motioned the beggars to follow.
They filed into the kitchen, seven men and four
women, not a whole body in the gang save the two
robust wenches.

"A bare minute or so, sir." said Ravcnshaw to
Jerningham. and went after them, taking the lantern
with him. Soon there came from the kitchen the
noise of loosened tongues chattering in the gibberish
of the mendicant profession.

Master Jerningham, knowing that opposition would
only cause further delay, controlled himself as best

WAS nil': MAin "' tin Ai'-'iiii., I'U.i; anh
m.w iiin.KKh "

RAn:.\:>!fAtvs su:r.r is iXTEKRurTi-.n. 303

he could, and waited in silence, pacing the hall, while
the captain had his humour. Meg, with housewifely
instinct, betook herself to the kitchen to keep an
eye on matters there. Presently the captain reap-
peared, with a pullet in one hand, his lantern in the
other, Meg having meanwhile lighted candles in the
kitchen.

" And now to horse ! " cried he, closing the
kitchen door after him.

" And God save us from any more delays ! " said
Jcrningham, with a pretence of jocularity.

" So say I," quoth Ravenshaw, stalking forward.

In the centre of the hall he stopped, with a cry of
astonishment, which made Jemingham turn swiftly
toward the open front door.

There in the porch, which was suddenly lighted
up with rays of torch and lantern, was the maid
of Cheapside, pale and bewildered, held on either
side by Cutting Tom and one of his comrades.

CHAPTER XIX.

KNAVE AGAINST GENTLEMAN.

" Who shall take your word ?
A whoreaon, upstart, apocryphal caiJtain,
Whom not a Puritan in BlackfriarH will trust
So much as for a feather." — The Aklumist,

Cutting Tom was struck motionless at sight of
the captain ; but, after a moment, reassuring himself
by a look at Jerningham, he led his captive into the
hall. His men followed. The group came to a halt
ere any one found voice.

Ravenshaw, recovering a little from his surprise,
was about to hurl a question at Cutting Tom, when
his tongue was stayed by his seeing the maid's eyes
turn with blazing indignation upon himself, and her
lips open to speak.

" So, then, it is your work I " she said.

" My work } " quoth the captain, in a maze, drop-
ping his chicken.

" No doubt you spied upon poor Master Holyday,
and corrupted these rogues he trusted in," she went
on ; and then, giving way, she wept : " Oh, God ! into
whose hands have I fallen ! "

Ravenshaw quailed at her tears ; but suddenly
304

KXAVE AGAIXST GEXTLKMAX.

305

Stiffened himself, sc; down his lantern, and said
wrathfully to Cutting Tom :

" What means this, knave ? Why came you here ?
Where is — the gentleman you serve ? Siwak, thou
slave, or by — "

But Millicent, coming swiftly out of her tears,
cried, scornfully :

" Think not to blind me, thou villain ! The gen-
tleman is where you bade these wretches leave him,
— in the woods, robbed, — mayhap slain ! Alas,
having seen his fate, what may I expect for myself ! "
And again she fell into lamentations.

" I understand this not," said Ravenshaw. " Cut-
ting Tom, thou blundering hound, why bring you
this maid to this place, and to me?"

"Oh, out upon pretense!" cried Millicent.
"Thinkst thou I am so great a fool as not to see.>
God send I were Sir Peregrine's wife rather than
such a villain's captive!"

"Mistress, I know not why you are here, nor what
hath befallen Master Holyday. There is some mis-
take or falseness, which I shall worm out of this
tongue-tied knave ; but first assure yourself you arc
not my captive."

" Oh, peace ! As if this fellow, whom you call by
name, and who cringes before you, had not turned
treacherous ! "

" Ten to one he hath turned treacherous, and dear

3o6

CAPTAIN RAVENSIIAW.

he shall pay for it ; but he hath not turned so at my
instigation."

" Oh, no mor.», I pray. Even this fellow is not
bold-faced enough to deny it is for you he has
betrayed us. God knows what is to become of me,
a prisoner in your hands, without a soul that knows
my whereabouts to protect me ! "

At this, Master Jerningham, who had kept still
while an inspiration perfected itself in his mind,
stepped courteously forward, and said, with grave
sympathy :

"Not so, mistress. I, the master of this house,
will protect you in it."

She looked at him in surprise. His was a face she
recalled vaguely as having seen, or faces more or
less resembling it, in the streets of London, or in
churches, or other public places ; but it was not a
face she had ever had reason to note carefully.
Whatever were the forgotten occasions upon which
she may have observed it, as she had observed ten
thousand faces worth a careless second glance, the
night of her adventure in February was not one of
them; for on that r.'.ght, besides keeping himself
in shadow, and leaving all talk to Sir Clement
Ermsby, Jerningham had hidden his countenance
under the brim of a great Spanish hat. So his face
at this moment, appearing as that of a stranger,
awakened in her mind no association eitl'.er plea.saut

KNAVE AG.IIXST GEATLE.V.IA'.

307

or unpleasant ; in itself, it wore so serious and sweet
a smile, and the manner of its owner was so quietly
chivalrous, that Millicent's feelings promptly declared
in its favour. A sudden sense of safety came over
her, depriving her for a moment of speech. Then
she murmured, unsteadily:

" Master of this house, say you .' "
"Ay, mistress, but no conspirator in your being
brought here. I am not often at the place; this
man hath newly arrived as steward ; I came to-night
without warning, no more expecting to sec strangers
in my house than he expected to sec me. I know
not what hath been afoot; but Heaven must have
sent me here, if my coming has saved you from
a mischief."

He offered her his hand. Cutting Tom had
already released her arm. After a moment, she
took the hand, and allowed Jerningham to lead
her to a scat by the table. As she scanned his
features, an increasing trustfulness appeared in her
own.

"Sir," she faltered, deeply relieved and grateful,
"I must thank Heaven for my deliverance. To
find a gentleman — after these rascals — "

She cast a glance at Ravenshaw, and trembled
to think what manner of man she had escaped ;
for indeed at that instant the captain looked like
the very devil.

3o8

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

" He deliver you ! " exclaimed Rav-^nshaw, as
soon as his feelings permitted him to speak calmly.
" Why, he is of all men the one you most need
deliverance from ! "

Jerningham smiled with tolerant contempt. " I
scarce think you will believe that, mistress," said
he, lightly, " seeing how completely I am a stranger
to you."

"Believe him.'" she replied, scornfully. "He is
the prince of cozeners ; he is all made of lies and
shifts. I know not how he hath come to be steward
to a gentleman ; belike you know not of him ; per-
chance he hath passed upon you by another name,
as he did upon us ; he is Captain Ravenshavv."

"To say truth, mistress, I knew him; but I little
thought — "

"Knew me.'" said Ravenshaw, with a laugh.
" Ay, indeed. Well enough for me in turn to know
his designs against yourself, mistress ; from which,
as from marriage with that old dotard, I had hoped
to see you saved. As for your being brought here,
ask these men. Find your tongue, Cutting Tom,
and explain this."

"Why, of a truth," said Cutting Tom, slowly,
finding courage in a significant glance from Jerning-
ham, " I know not what you .vould have me explain.
I am but a dull-witted man ; if you had only told
mc beforehand what to say — "

KNAVE AG..INST CKNTLEMAN.

309

"'Tis too clear these knaves acted by your ordeis.
captain," interrupted Jerningham.

"Why. yes, so vvc did, and that's the hell of it "
said Cutting Tom.

"Liar and slave!" cried Ravenshavv, half drawing
his sword; but he controlled himself, and said ■
"■T,s plain that you. Master Jerningham, have
bought this knave, though 'tis beyond my ken how
you learned what he was to be about to-night
Mistress, I swear to you, the man who intends
you harm is he that you put your trust in; the
man who would save you is he that you revile
and disbelieve."

"Mistress," said Jerningham, ignoring this speech,
"Wherever you have come from, wherever you would
go, 'tis now too late in the night to leave this house
Shall I conduct you to a chamber where you will be
safe and alone .' Your ears need not then be assailed
by the rude talk of this man. Surely you will not
doubt me upon his wild words .' "

"Nay," said she, rising compliantly, "I heed not
his words."

"For proof of them," said the captain, "let me
tell you that this gentleman employed me to be his
go-between with you."

She blushed. Jerningham said: "Oh, villain 1
You have the devil's invention, I think. You would
make yourself out a worse knave, that you might

3IO

CAl'TAIN KA VliNSIIA W.

make her dislriist me. Mistress, if you have the
smallest fear — "

" Sir, God forbid I should doubt a gentleman on
the word of a known rascal!"

Jerningham led her by the hand toward the cor-
ridor at the right. But the captain, not delayed by
Iiis momentary reflection upon the occasional incon-
venience of a bad reputation, sprang ahead of them,
and took his place at the corridor entrance, grasping
his sword. Master Jerningham instantly drew back
with the maid, in a manner implying that the cap-
tain's threatening action was as much directed against
her as him. He hastened with her toward the oppo-
site passage, but Ravenshaw was again beforehand.
Jerningham thereupon conducted her to the front
part of the hall. It was not his desire to release
her hand, as he must needs do if he himself fought
Ravenshaw at this juncture. He did not wish to
call in Ermsby yet, fearing the effect her recognition
of that gallant might have upon her confidence in
himself. His own two followers in the hall were
armed only with knives. Cutting Tom, the dis-
guised Gregory, and their three companions, were
his men in reality ; but he must seemingly win them
over before using them, lest she perceive they indeed
acted for him in giving this direful turn to her elope-
ment.

"Thou whom he calls Cutting Tom," said Jer-

KNAVE AGAIXST CF.XTI.KMAX.

iiinghani, " Ihoii ami thy fcllinvs, - yc Iiavc (Iniu' :•
clangorDUS tiling; for your iiciks in iDUvoying this
lady hither against her will."

" Sir, I know it," replied Tom. " Hut I was led
by my needs, and these my followers knew nothing
of the business. I take you to be a gentleman that
has power in the world. I beg of you, now that the
villainy has failed, deal not too hardly with us."

" It lies with yourselves. If you be minded to
undo the villainy, to serve me in my protection of
this maid — "

" We will, we will ! and thank your good wor-
ship ! " said Tom, quickly, and turned to his men
with a look which elicited from them a chorus of
confirmatory " ayes," supported by a variety of oaths.

" Then seize that man, till I pass with this lady,"
said Jerningham, in a decided tone. "To him, all
of ye, — Meadows and Goodcole, too ! "

Cutting Tom and his men drew their swords ;
having first attached their lanterns and torch to
wall-sconces, and dropped the bundle of Holyday's
clothes. The party advanced upon Ravenshaw, be-
ing joined by Meadows and Goodcole, which twain
preferred wisely that the bearers of longer weapons
should precede them into the captain's immediate
neighbourhood. Tom himself went rather shuf
flingly, doubtless willing to give opportunity for any
more impetuous comrade to be more forward in the

312

CAPTAIN KAVENSIIAW.

matter. But the other men were no more eager
than he to be first ; and so tlie movement, beginning'
with some show of a fearless rush, deteriorated in
a trice to a hesitating shamble. At two steps from
the captain, the party came to a stop.

" Ho, dogs, will ye come dancing up to me so
gaily .' " cried Ravenshaw. " Dance back again as
fast ! " His rapier leaped out, and .sang against
three of their own blades in the time of a breath.

All seven of the men, appalled at his sudden on-
slaught, stepped hastily back. The captain strode
forward. The fellows increased their backward pace.
He followed. They turned in a kind of panic, and
ran pell-mell for the front door. Laughing loudly
at their retreat, Ravenshaw stopped, as he was in no
mind to be drawn outside while Millicent remained
within. At sound of his laugh, the follows turned
and stood about the doorway with their weapons in
defence.

"Sir," said Ravenshaw, turning to Master Jer-
ningham, " I pray you, look upon this maid ; consider
her youth and her innocence. Will you mar such
an one a lifetime, to pleasure yourself an hour ? As
you are # gentleman, I ask you, give her up."

" Do not give me up to him ! " she said, af-
frightedly, clinging closer to Jerningham.

Ravenshaw shook his head in sorrow. "Ah,
mistress, that you should think I would harm you !

KNAVE AGAINST GENTLEMAN. 313

If you but knew -but for what you think of me.
no matter. Tis a cruel twist of circumstance that
you should oppose him that would save you. and
cleave to him that would destroy you. You would
know how the affair stands, if there were a spark
of truth to be found among these knaves and
traitors. Oh. for a gleam of honesty ! How foul
falsehood looks when it has the whole place to
itself ! "

A whinny of impatience was heard from the horse
waiting outside.

" Tis high time you were in the saddle, captain,"
said Jerningham. "Come, man; I will forget your
attempt upon this maid, since no harm has followeil.
And she, too. will forget it. if she take my counsel.
Will you trust your welfare in this matter to me,
mistress .' "

" Entirely." answered Milliccnt, in a low voice.

"Oh. mistress, how you are deceived!" said
Ravenshaw. "What can I do to save you.?"

She shrank back from his look.

"Fear not. mistress." said Jerningham. softly.
"Come, come, captain, an end, an end! Time is
hastening. I pray you. be off upon your ride to
Dover."

"Dover!" echoed the captain, with a strange
laugh. "Ride to Dover! By God's death, things
have changed in the past ten minutes ! I shall not

3<4

CA'-'-A/x K'Ari-:xsi/.im

ride to Dover, thank your worship ! not this night !
I shall stay here to save this lady in spite of herself!
— ill spite of herself and of you all, good gen-
tlemen ! "

" Is this your promise, you rascal ? " exclaimed
Jerninghani. " You gave your word to ride forth-
with."

" And beinj; a rascal, I claim a rascal's privilege to
break his wiirtl ! " cried Ravenshaw. " Away from
that lady, or by this hand — "

He did not finish his threat, but made straightway
for Jerninghani, The latter ran with the maid to
the farther side of the table, and whipped out his
sword. Ravenshaw, in pursuing, turned his back to
the fellows at the doorway. " Upon him, men ! "
shouted Jcrningham, and then, raising his voice still
higher, called out : " Ho, Krmsby, to the rescue I "

Ravenshaw, trusting his ears to warn him of what
threatened in the rear, kept Jemingham's sword in
play rather cautiously, for fear of too much endanger-
ing or frightening Millicent, who was pale as death.
The girl, clinging to Jcrningham, was thus rather a
protection than an encumbrance to that gentleman.
Very soon the captain heard the bustle of newcomers
entering at the front door, and then a general move-
ment, led by a more resolute tread than he had
noticed before. He turned and faced Sir Clement
Ermsby, whom he recognised but vaguely as a per-

K'x.irr-: .u/.i/xsr cKxri.i.:t.t.\:

3'5

son will) wli'iiii lu' li.iil hucii ill CDllishin M'nuliiiK'
ill tlic iKist. Ill' luriioil tlic kiii};lu's till list, .111(1
guarded himself with liis dagj;i;r (mm a hin^i; of
Cutting Tom's, lie then spun around on Ills hcd,
lest Jerningham might either pierce his Ixu'', m
profit by the opportunity to take the maid away.

Jerningham had chosen the latter course, but l.e
was hindered by the rush of some of his own men,
who had run around the table in order that the
captain mij^lit be surrounded. Thus cheeked for an
instant, and in some vv.iy made sensible of Raveii-
shavv's last movement, Jerningham turned b:uk, and
again engaged the captain. Ravenshaw was thus
between two forces, one headeil by Jerniiif^liain, tlie
other by Sir Clement. He leaped upon the talile,
jumped to the floor on the other side, while half a
dozen blades darted after him ; draj^ged the taljle to
a corner, and turned to face his enemies from the
little triangular space behind it. Led by Krmsby,
they rushed upon him, thinking to find the t.ible of
short use as a bulwark against such numbers.

Hut Jerningham stood back out of the rush, still
holding Millicent by the hand, and shouted :

" Some keep him busy above the table ; some
thrust under at his legs. Let the knave die, 'tis
good time ! I'll look to the comfort of the lady."
And he started again toward the right-hand jiassage.

Ravenshaw bent forward across the table, and

3'6

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

swept aside the points of steel with sword and dag-
ger; but they threateiied him anew, and he heard
men scrambling under the table to stab his legs • he
saw. between two heads of his foes, Jerningham's
movement toward the passage, and he shouted •

" Ho, rufflers. maunderers. upright men ! a rescue I
a rescue ! "

Jerningham halted, somewhat wondering The
kitchen door flew open, and. with a hasty thumpm-^
of crutches, the beggars hobbled in. men and women'!
most of them with pewter cans, from which they had
been regaling themselves. At sight of these maimed
creatures with their frowsy hair, their gaunt looks,
the red blotches and bandages of some, the white
eyeballs of others, Millicent started back in horror
As the door by which they came in was near the
passage toward which Jerningham was leading her
and as they spread into a wide group in entering.'
they blocked the way of her departure.

" Stop the gentry cove ! " cried Ravenshaw " I„
the name of the salamon, stand by a brother I "

The captain's assailants had drawn away a little to
see who the newcomers were. Having satisfied him-
self at a glance. Sir Clement Ermsby laughed, and
said: "A rescue, sooth! A bunch of refuse-
rotten pieces of men. Come, back to your work ! "
And he renewed the attack on Ravenshaw; while
Jerningham, calling out, "Ay, to him! these be

KNAVE AGAINST GENTLEMAN.

317

helpless cripples," started again for tlie passage, iiis
sword-point forward.

But with a wild whoop the beggars straightened
out of their lame attitudes, swung their crutches and
staves in the air, lost all regard of sores and patches,
found arms for empty sleeves, showed keen eyes
where white balls had plead for pity, threw off all the
shams of their profession, and swept upon the cap-
tain's foes. A sturdy blow of a staff bore down
Jerningham's rapier, a filching hook tore his dagger
from his other hand. Iron-shod crutches and staves
rained upon the heads of Sir Clement and the other
men ; hooks caught their clothing, and dragged some
to the floor. When at close quarters, the beggars
drew their knives; the women fought like men.
Millicent, separated from Jerningham in the fray, ran
shrieking in the one direction open to her ; this was
toward the corner at the right of the front door.
Ravenshaw, dashing through the confusion, placed
himself triumphantly at her side. She essayed to
run from him; but he gently swept her with a
powerful arm into the corner behind him.

" Oh, God, I am lost ! " she cried, seeing Jerning-
ham and his men brought to pause by the sturdy
wielders of staff, crutch, and knife.

Across the captain's mind flashed a wild project of
bearing her away in search of her uncle's house,
which he knew was somewhere in the neighbour-

318

CAl'TAIN RAVENSHAW.

hood ; but he heard a sudden fierce dash of the long-
expected rain against the rear windows, saw how faint
and exhausted she was, thought of the opuosition
she would offer, and considered the up-hill fi^ht he
would have to wage against an enemy desperate with
the fear of losing his prey. He had a better idea, —
one in which prowess might be supplemented with
craft.

Quite near him, in the wall at his right hand, was
the open door to the porter's room which he had
noticed upon arriving at the house ; it had no other
means of entrance or exit, its high-placed window
being a mere slit. He purposely moved a little to the
left. Millicent, seeing an opening, glided along the
wall to escape him. He sprang forward, and con-
fronted her just at the door of the porter's room.
Recoiling from him, she instinctively darted through
the door. " Good ! " cried the captain, taking his
place in the doorway, his face to the hall.

Millicent, in the little room, sank upon a pallet,
which was its only furniture, and put out her hands
to keep the captain from approaching her. But she
saw that he had stopped at the threshold, with his
back to her. It was, indeed, no part of his plan to
follow her into the room.

Jerningham, startled at the maid's sudden disap-
pearance, ran forward with a cry of rage ; but Raven-
shaw met sword and dagger with sword and dagger,

KNAVE AGAINST GEXTLEMAX.

319

and Jerningham was fain to draw back to save his
body. Matters thereupon resumed a state of abey-
ance, during which men recovered breath, regained
their feet, and toolc account of bleeding heads and
flesh wounds.

" Hark you ! " spoke the captain, in a tone meant
for her as well as for Jerningham. " It is now for us
to prove which of us means this lady no harm. Let
her abide where she is, till the storm and the night
are past ; then, together, we'll conduct her to her
friends. And meanwhile, the man who attempts to
enter this room declares himself her enemy."

Jerningham's face showed the rage of temjxjrary
defeat. " Then come from the door there," he said,
sullenly, for want of a better speech.

" Nay, for this night I am the door here, — though
she may close this wooden door an she please.
These " — his sword and dagger — " she'll find true
bolts and bars. . She may e'en sleep, if she will, —
there's a pallet to lie on."

Sitting weak and perplexed on the pallet in the
dark little apartment, she wondered what purpose the
captain might be about.

At the suggestion of sleep, Jerningham had an
idea. Pretending to confer in whispers with Sir
Clement, he secretly beckoned Gregory, who was
still in his false beard. The servant approaching
without appearance of intent, Jerningham, still under

320

CAPTAIN KAVENSUAW.

cover of talking to Ermsby, asked in undertone for
the sleeping potion which Gregory was to have
obtained. The lackey transferred a phial in an un-
perceived manner to his master's hand. Pocketing
it in triumph, Jemingham turned to the captain :

• We shall see how honestly yon mean, then.
And that the lady may rest freer of annoyance, send
these knaves of yours out of her hearing, back to
their ale."

" With all my heart — when you send away your
knaves also."

" I will do so ; but fear not, mistress," he called
out. "I will not leave this hall. 'Tis all for the
avoiding of bloodshed, and your better comfort in
the end."

" 'Tis wpU, sir ; I am not afraid," she answered, in
a tired, tren;bling voice.

It was agreed that Jerningham's men should go
into the room on the left-hand side of the hall, diag-
onally opposite that in which the maid was ; that the
beggars should return to the kitchen ; that the sig-
nal for both parties to withdraw should be given by
Jemingham. He was about to speak the word forth-
with, when the captain interposed :

" By your leave, I'll first have private speech with
my friends. You have already had with yours, and
may have again ere they depart."
Jemingham saw no way of refusing, or, indeed,

KNAVE AGAINST GENTLEMAN. 32 1

much reason therefor ; doubtless the captain wished
but to counsel his rascals to be vigilant for a possible
second call. So Jerningham gave consent by silence.
Ravenshaw had a conference with the beggars, in
which chief parts were taken by the white-bearded
rogue and the ancient cripple who had guided the
maunderers to the Grange.

Presently Ravenshaw signified that he had done ;
whereupon Jerningham said " Begone," and the two
parties filed out, each narrowly watching the other,
Jerningham's men taking a torch with them, the
beggars clumping with their iron-tipped wooden im-
plements. Only Ravenshaw took note that one of
the lanterns disappeared with the beggars. The
captain, Jerningham, Mistress Meg, who had watched
recent occurrences from the kitchen door, and Sir
Clement Ermsby were left in the hall.

" How .' " quoth the captain, staring at the knight.
"Do you break faith.' Why go you not with the
other men ?"

"Troth, sir, I am nobody's man," replied Sir
Clement. " I am this gentleman's friend, and, when
I choose, I fight for him; but my comings and
goings are not to be stipulated for by any man."

Ravenshaw perceived that a minor point had been
scored against him ; but he was not much discom-
fited. He had merely to play for time, to guard the
doorway of that room for an unknown number of

322

CAPTAIN KAVENSirAW.

hours. As long as he could temporise, two antago-
nists were no worse than one ; if it came to
fighting, two were a little worse, but, as both must
attack in front, the odds were nothing out of his
experience.

" Have we not met before this, sir .' " asked Raven-
shaw, scrutinising Krmsby.

" My memory is but so-so," replied Sir Clement,
quizzically.

" Heforc God, I think we have," said the captain,
" and ui»n opposite sides, too, as we are now. Would
I could remember! I have had so many quarrels,
so many foes. I could swear you and I had clashed
once upon a time."

Sir Clement, who remembered the meeting well
enough, merely smiled as if amused at the captain's
puzzlement. Ravenshavv drew a stool to the door-
way, and sat down, weapons still in hand. Sir Clem-
ent was leaning back against the table, at the
opposite side of the hall, with folded arms. He
made mirth for himself by suggesting various impos-
sible places where the captain might have met him ;
while Jerningham, ever keeping the corner of his eye
on his enemy, went back and held a whispered con-
versation with Meg.

" Fear not," said Jerningham, heeding the peremp-
tory question in her eyes. " The maid is in yonder
room. This captain, by a strange chance, knows her

KlfAVE AGAINST GENTLEMAN. 323

as one he hath designs against. He would neither
have her go free, nor taken back to her father. He
thinks to find her at his mercy. But we shall outwit
him, and no more fighting. 'Tis for you to "

" One would think he was her friend," said Meg,
glancing toward the captain.

" I'oh ! she fears him as he were the devil."

" Does he, then, desire her .' " queried Meg, with
a curious feigned unconcernedness of tone and look.

Jemingham regarded her with the silence of sudden
discovery ; then, restraining a smile, said, watchfully :
" He is another's instrument, I think. Such a man's
fancy would ne'er light upon a child ; she is little
more. A woman of your figure were more to his
liking, I'll wager." He paused, to observe Meg's
blush, which was not resentful ; then he added, sig-
nificantly: "If a woman were minded to make a
fresh trial of life, "with a brave husband now "

"Well, and what then.'" said she, looking him
frankly in the eyes. " How if a woman were > The
man is not seeking a wife, ten to one."

" A few drops of this, mixed with a man's wine,"
said Jemingham, producing the phial in such manner
that his body concealed it from Ravenshaw's view,
" have been known to work a wonder."
" What is it .' " she whispered, gazing at it.
"A love potion," he answered. "The surest in
the world, too. 'Tis the one with which — " But

CAPTA/y KAVES'SHAW.

II'!

he broke off, shook his head, and rep'iaced the phial
in his pocket.

" Let me have it," she whispered, excitedly.

" If you will swear to one thing."

" What ? '

" That you will find means to use it this night."

" Why this night .' "

He invented a reason. "So that, when it hath
effect, you may use your power to draw him from
that maid."

" I swear," she replied. He passed the phial to
her, directed her in detail what to do, and returned
to the front of the hall as if from a mere conference
upon household matters. Meg went back to the
kitchen. She failed to notice there that one of
the beggars, a very old man, was missing ; or that
the window-seat was wet, as if the casement had
been recently opened and closed again. Nor could
old Jeremy have called her attention to these
matters, for upon their return the other beggars
had so crowded around him at the ale-cask that he
had seen and heard only them and their clamours.

Ravenshaw and Sir Clement, having exhausted
their topic of conversation, were regarding each
other in silence. Jemingham, as his eyes fell upon
the front door, suddenly exclaimed :

"The horse! Zounds, in this pelting rain — "
He seized one of the lanterns and ran to the porch.

KNAVE AG A f. VST CENTLESIAN. 325

"How now? Thcbeast isnot here!" He came

back into the hall, looking puzzled.
"Perhaps the old man hath put him under roof "

suggested Ermsby.
Jcrningham went to the kitchen door and called

Jeremy, who averred he had not been near the horse

smce he had tied it outside the porch.

"'Twas ill tied, no doubt." said Jerningham, "and

hath got loose and sought shelter. Belike you left

the stable door open. Go and see ; and look in all

the penthouses, too."

Jeremy went out. His return was awaited in
sUence, Jerningham pacing the hall. Sir Clement
staymg motionless at the table's edge, Ravcnshaw
sittmg upon the stool before Millicenfs room She
had not closed the door; she remained upon the
pallet, able to see a little of the hall, but herself out
of the light that came in through the doorway Her
thoughts were in confusion; at last they became so
clouded that, obeying the impulse of fatigue, she lay
down on the pallet, without heed of the act; soon
she was in a state between an.xious waking and a
troubled dream.

Jeremy came back, dripping, and said the horse
was not to be found.

Berating him for stupidity, his master sent him
back to the kitchen. Jerningham presently sat down
upon a chair near the table against which Sir Clem-

326

CAI'TAIN KAVENSIIAW.

ent Stood. Slowly the minutes passed, while the
heavy beat of the rain against the casements was
the only sound. Once Jerningham called out : " Is
all well with you, mistress?"

Milliccnt, brought to a sense of her whereabouts
after a moment's bewilderment, answered : " Yes,
I thank you." The silence fell again.

At last Jerningham said to Sir Clement : " Those
rascals yonder need not have all the good cheer
to themselves. There's better drink than ale left
in the house." He rose, and summoned Meg from
the kitchen.

"Fetch wine," said he. Meg, returning to the
kitchen, presently reappeared therefrom with a
flagon and a pewter drinking cup.

" First fill a cup, I pray you," said Jerningham,
" and carry it to the lady in yonder room."

She poured out a cupful, set the flagon on the
table, and approached the door at which RavensLaw
sat.

" Nay, you shall not pass here," quoth the captain.

" What, will you deny the unhappy lady that small
comfort .' " said Jerningham, while Meg paused.

" No ; I will convey it to her ; but I'll firs' see
you drink a cup of the same wine."

Jerningham shrugged his shoulders, took the cup
from Meg, drained it, and turned it upside down.
He then refilled it. Meg carried it to the captain,

KNAyp. AGAimT GENTLF.MAff. 357

and held it close f„ his nostrils in handing it. He
breathed its i.erfumo, eyed it yearningly, then thrust
his left hand with it into the room.

" A cup of wine for you, mistress," called Jer-
ningham.

Millicent, again roused from half-slumbcr, was
too gracious to refuse; she took the cup, sipped,
and passed it back to the captain's waiting hanr'.
He noticed that the cup was nearly full, but gave it
back to Meg, though a little reluctantly. Jerningham
emptied it down his own throat, and filled it for Sir
Clement, who made one long grateful draught of the
contents.

"Fill for yourself, mistress," said Jcrningham,
afTably. Me- shook her head, but. nevertheless,
proceeded to j ar out another cupful. Her back
was toward Ravenshaw as she did so, but there was
nothing in that to strike attention. What Jcrning-
ham and Sir Clement saw, however, was this : she
held the cup with her thumb and little finger, against
her palm, so that her three other fingers lay across
the top. Alor,r the inside of her middle finger was
placed the phial, a narrow tube, tied to the finger
with fine thread; the open end of the phial was
toward the palm, which she had hitherto kept tight
against it. But now, opening her fingers out above
the rim of the cup as she poured the wine, she re-
leased a part of the phial's contents into the cup

f :'!

328

CAPTAIN KAVRKSIIAW.

at the lame time. The sleight rcquireil but a
moment.

She put down the flagon, transferred the cup to
the other hand, and turned toward Ravcnshaw.

" Eh ? What ? " exclaimed Jerningliam, in feigned
disapproval, reaching out for the cup.

" Nay," said Meg, holding it away from him ;
" ho.spitality ever, even to them you quarrel with ! "

Whereupon she walked gravely over to the cap-
tain and offered him the cup.

Ravenshaw had thought he detected approbation
of himself in this woman's looks at the time of hij
arrival ; and now he thought he might flatter him-
self the approbation still existed. Attributing all to
her good nature toward him, and not suspecting wine
in the same vessel, and from the same flagon, as had
supplied his enemies but a moment since, he grasped
the cup with a hearty smile of gratitude, and emptied
it swiftly down his throat.

Meg received back the cup, placed it on the table
beside the flagon, and passed silently to the kitchen,
followed by a faint smile of mirth on the part of
Jemingham. The smile was supplanted by a look
of expectant curiosity as Jemingham turned his eyes
upon Ravenshaw. The captain sat as before, rapier
in one hand, dagger in the other. Jemingham him-
self had resumed his chair near the table, and Sir
Clement retained his old attitude. In the little

KNAVr. AC A /.WIT Cr.KTI.E

MAX.

3?«)

room. Milliccnt .:.,,sccl into a dreamy hall-o,,,.
scousncss. wherein she seeme.1 b..r„e by ro.,«h
wmds t rough black and red clouds; the roon
appeared a vast space wherein this occurred; and
yot always she was vaguely aware of her actual
surroundings.

Ravenshaw felt serenely comfortable; a delicious

ease of mind and body came over him; the be;;;

tlZ T" '"'° ' """""« '"" ■' ""= hall grew
dark before h.m. He opened his eyes with a sL,
amazed at himself for having let them close A
m.st seemed to fill the place; through it appeared
the faces of h,s two enemies, a curious smiHng ex-
pression upon each. '

.-,v'.?"V',""' "'""' ''*= "P'^'"' sharply, and
E.ve h,s head a shake to throw off the d,;i;iness
that invaded him.

Jemingham's eyes shone with elation
■; God's death, the wine!" cried Ravenshaw. stag,
genng madly to his feet. "Methought there was
an aftertaste. Ye' ve played foul with me ! "

from M,- "" r' "^•'""'' "^" ^'"" '° '^'=^1' himself

from fallmg; h.s head swayed, and sank forward;

hejoor seemed to yield beneath him; darkness

surged m upon h.m, and for an instant he knew not

; m?,f kT " ""'' '^ "''•' ^''°"'- But he flung
h.mself back to life with a fierce effort, and h.„an

walki

ngorously back and f„rth in front of

began

his

330

CAPTAIN RAVENSllAW.

doorway. He knew that his sole hope of resisting
the drug, if it was what he guessed, lay in constant
action of body and mind.

Jerningham sat still ; he had but to wait till the
captain succumbed, delude Meg with the tale that
the philtre sometimes began its operation by induc-
ing a long sleep, find means to administer the rest of
the potion to Millicent, and carry out his original
design. The beggars were little to be feared with-
out Ravenshaw ; they would drink themselves stupid,
and on the morrow, while they were snoring or 'mous-
ing, the unconscious maid could be carried to the
ship. As for Ravenshaw, once the drug overcame
him he would be virtually out of the world for two
days, at least. He could be locked in a chamber,
and the beggars informed by Meg that he was gone.
They would doubtless take themselves off when they
had drunk the place dry. Meg would await with
interest the termination of the captain's sleep. Thus
all would pass without bloodshed and without any
scandal reaching the bishop's ears too soon. Mean-
while, the slightest movement against Ravenshaw,
or toward Millicent's room, was to be avoided; it
would only stir the captain to action opposed to the
effects of the drug. He was still striving against
those effects, pacing with rapid steps the small
stretch of floor he allowed himself, and thrusting in
the air with his weapons.

A'NAVE ACAINST CEATLEMAAT.

331

He was continually losing his mental grasp and
regaining it with effort. He wondered how they had
contrived to drug his wine alone; doubtless the
woman had the arts of a witch ; a woman who talked
so little was not natural.

How if, in spite of all his resolution, the drug
should prove too potent for him .' What of the maid
then .' He shuddered to think of her at the mercy
of Jemingham, who had doubtless provided all means
of dealing with her in safety from consequences.
Should he, Ravenshaw, consign her to the protection
of the beggars.' Without his masterful and re-
sourceful presence, they were like to prove fickle
rogues. Should he remove Jemingham forthwith by
killing him .' If he did so, and then succumbed to
the drug or to Jemingham's men, how might she
fare at the hands of the survivors, rascals on both
sides? This friend of Jerningham's was the only
gentleman in the house, and he was without doubt a
bird of Jerningham's feather. Where had the cap-
tain met him before .' Ravenshaw, calling up anew
his energies, stopped in his walk to stare at the
man, and lurched toward him drunkenly. Suddenly
the captain's face cleared, he stumbled back to the
doorway, and cried :

" Mistress, look, look ! "

So sudden and imperative a cry brought Millicent
to the threshold, startled, white of face.

i
IP

332

CAPTAIN KAVENSllAW.

" Look ! " went on Ravenshaw. " 'Tis he — that
night in the street — in February — they would not
let you go — but I compelled them ! And one gave
me the slip — a man with a Spanish hat — a thick-
bearded — Ah! 'twas you, you, you!" He had
turned his gaze upon Jerningham. "That was the
beginning, I trow! Ah, mistress, who were your
enemies that night, and who was your friend ? "

She stood bereft of speech, her hand against the
door-post, recognising Sir Clement indeed, and dis-
mayed at the frown — which to suddenly enlightened
eyes was a betrayal of the truth — on Jemingham's
face. And then she wondered at the wild, drunken
movements of Ravenshaw, who had resumed his
rapid pacing of the floor in a fresh struggle with the
persistent opiate.

" The man will never sleep," said Ermsby, in a low
tone, to Jerningham. " He will outwalk your medi-
cine. You are not like to have him in a worse state
than he is in now. Let me put an end to him while
he is thus."

"But Meg — " objected Jerningham.
"If I give him a thrust in my own quarrel, she
cannot blame you. Come ; my weapons are itching."
" Why do you wish to slay him }"
" For the sport of it, i' faith." Sir Clement's face
lighted up with cruelty. " 'Tis your only sure way.
He'll walk out of this cloud presently."

KNAVE AGArxST GF.NTLFMAX. 333

"As you will," said Jerningham, abruptly, after
a moment's thought. ■■ But 'tis between you and
him."

Sir Clemjnt, without moving, said aloud to the
captain :

"I remember our meeting. You boasted you
could be my teacher with the rapier. I knew not
then you were Ravenshaw, the roaring captain ; else
I had not p_L off the lesson."

"Lesson— put off lesson— what lesson.'" mur-
mured the captain, dreamily, swaying and plunging
as he strode.

M said a time might come when I should see your
""" Ermsby went on. "I am bound on a far
journey to-morrow, and may never meet you again."
He drew his rapier and dagger, and stepped forward.
"Come, knave! Remember your insolence that
night ; for I shall make you swallow it I "

However vague an impression the previous words
had made on the captain's mind, the sight of sword
and dagger in threatening position roused and
steadied him. Not fully sensible of how he had
come to be opposed by these weapons at this stage,
he met them with the promptitude of habit. The
steel of his dagger clashed against the other's sword-
point ; his own rapier shot forth to be narrowly
diverted in like manner. There was exchan-rg of
thrust and parry till the place sang with the ring of

skill.'

334

CAPTAIN RAVF.NSIIAW.

in 1

steel. The jocund heat of battle woke in the cap-
tain's blood, its fierce thrill gladdened his soul and
invigorated his body. And yet he went as one in a
dream, with the lurches of a drunken man. l?iit
dazed as he appeared in countenance, wild and
uncontrolled as his movements looked, his eye was
never false as to the swift dartings of his enemy's
weapons, his hand never failed to meet steel with
steel. Some spirit within him, offspring of nature
and practice conjoined, seemed to clear his eye and
guide his arm, however his body plunged or his legs
went awry.

Meg ran in from the kitchen at the first sound of
steel. Jerningham hastened back and drew her out
of the way of the fighters, saying :

"They fell a-quarreUing ; I could not part them.
See what effect the potion hath upon him ; he should
sleep now, but fo- this fighting. I hope 'twill end
without blood."

The beggars, now drunk, were looking over one
another's heads from the kitchen, not daring to
enter without the order ; and Jerningham's men,
drawn from their dice by the noise, were crowded
together beyond the left-hand doorway. Jerningham
hoped that Ravenshaw would yet, in a moment of
exhaustion, yield to the opiate ere Sir Clement found
opportunity for a home thrust. So he stood with
Meg at the fireplace, while Millicent, held by the

:.il

KNAVf: AGAINST CENTLliMAN.

335

interest and import of the scene, watchcu from
her threshold. The fighters tramped up and down
the hall.

"Never with that thrust, good teacher!" said
Ermsby, blocking a peculiar deviation of his oppo-
nent's blade from its apparent mark — his right
groin — toward his left breast.

"Nor you with that feint, boy!" retorted the
captain, ignoring a half-thrust, and catching on his
dagger the lightning-swift lunge that followed.

Furiously they gave and took, panting, dripping
with sweat, their faces red and tense, their blazing
eyes fixed. Now the captain threw himself forward
when there seemed an opening in the other's guard ;
now he sprang back before a similar onslaught on
his adversary's part. He swayed and staggered, and
sometimes appeared to stop himself in the nick of
time from falling headlong, b -t always his attack and
guard were as true as thosu of Sir Clement, whose
body and limbs moved as by springs of steel. It
seemed as if neither's point could ever reach flesh,
so sure and swift was the defence ; the pair might
have been clad in steel.

Ravenshaw had worked back to the front of the
hall 'iddenly he sprang forward, driving Sir Clem-
ent ward the fireplace. Ermsby made the usual
feint, the usual swift-following lunge. Ravenshaw
caught it, but with a sharp turn of the wrist that

336

CAPTAIN KAVENSUAW.

loosened his grip so that his dagger was struck from
his hand by the deflected sword-point. Sir Clement
uttered a shout of triumph, and thereby put himself
back in the game by the hundredth part of a second ;
in that infinitesimal time the captain drove his old
thrust home. Sir Clement dropped, limp and heavy,
his cry of victory scarce having ceased to resound.

Ravenshaw turned fiercely about, his sword ready
for new foes. Startled at the movement, Jemingham
called his men to seize the slayer. The captain
shouted to the beggars. These came staggering in
from the kitchen, but he saw they were helpless with
drink. The white-bearded fellow was feebly bran-
dishing a pistol which he had made ready for firing,
— the weapon he had pointed at Ravenshaw in the
road. The captain seized it, turned toward Jeming-
hara's advancing adherents, and fired into the band.
A man fell with a groan, but his comrades passed
over him, and Millicent recognised, as his false beard
became displaced in his struggles, the fellow who
had denounced Ravenshaw in her father's garden.
The captain hurled himself upon the other men;
brought down Cutting Tom with the sting of his
rapier; felled Goodcole with a blow of the pistol;
dashed through the opening he had thus made in
their ranks ; pitched forward as if at last all sense
had left him ; sptm around, and grasped at the air
Uke one drowning, and fell heavily against the front

JCMAVE AGAINST GENTLEMAN. 337

door Closing it with his weight. He stood leaning,
loose ^"^'"^ ^"'''"■''' '''' "'"'' '"" ''■'' ^^"'"S

"No more, men!" cried Jerningham. though the
half-dozen appalled survivors needed no command to
refr,.,n, any more than the beggars, who were stum-
bhng over their staves. -The knave hath slain Sir
Clement Ermsby. but he is done for. too. Now
mistress, for a better lodging!"

The captain, mistily, as if at a great distance, saw
h.s enemy clasp the girl's waist. He tried to move
but could not even keep his feet save by bracing
himself against the door. Suddenly, as the maid
drew away from Jerningham's face of hot desire
Ravenshaw was thrown forward by a violent push
of the door from without. Staggering to the table,
he turned and looked. In stepped the old cripple
soakmg wet ; behind him was a portly, fat-faced gen-'
tleman, followed by several rustic varlets armed with
P.kes and broadswords. Lights flared in the porch,
and wuh the sound of the rain came that of snorting
pawmg horses.

"Well met. Master Etheridge," spoke Ravenshaw,
thickly. "Look to your niece."

Jerningham stared in chagrin; MiUicent ran with
a cry of joy to her Uncle Bartlemy. Then the

Z'f'n rif',"'"''"'' '''^' ' "^y "°" SO asleep!"
and fell full length upon the floor.

1 Si

CHAPTER XX.

HOLYDAY S FURTHER ADVENTURES.

" O, when will thii ume jrear of night have end? "

— Th4 Two Angry tyamtn ef Aii$tgitm,

Master Holvday at first thought himself lucky
to be left alive, though naked to his shirt and bound
to a tree by hempen cords which were tied around
his wrists behind him, and around his ankles. But
he soon began to doubt the pleasures of existence,
and the possibility of its long continuance, in his
situation. There was a smarting pain between his
eyes, his face felt swollen all around those organs,
his arms ached from their enforced position, the chill
of the night assailed his naked skin.

He bemoaned the inconveniences of a stationary
condition, and for the first time in his life realised
what it was to be a tree, rooted to one spot all its
days. He no longer deemed it a happy fate that the
gods bestowed on the old couple as a reward for
their hospitality, in the Metamorphoses, — that of
being turned, at their death, into oaks. And he
became swiftly of opinion that the damsel who
escaped the pursuit of Apollo by transforming herself
338

each arm felt .ts cramped state the more intolerablv

yielded a litr H amazement, the cord

yielded a httlc. He exerted his muscles =gain and

ankles^ But. bendmg his knees, and lowering his

a scrape o h.s skm against the bark, many a protest
of c scom ort on the part of his strained legs, he se

:irf;eii:r:u::rtr'^.^^°-^-

bou.h,and.entheadirn;trarakrrramSr

amb and body, he backed out of the thicket and

hThlrber'V'" '"^ "'^''^ ''i-tion, holZ
h.s hands before h,m, and feeling the earth with his
toes before setting foot in a new place.

340

CAPTAI.W KAl'LXS/r.in'.

" This is what it is to be a blind man," quoth he.
Often, despite his precautions, he hurt his foct with
roots and sticl<s, and cut them uixjn shar|vcdged
stones. He began to think he was doomed to a
l>erpctual labour of wandering through a pitch-dark
forest ; it seemed so long since he had known peace
of bo<ly and mind that he fancied he should never
again be restored to the knowledge. He knew not,
in the darkness, which way he was going ; he moved
on mainly from ;i disinclination to remain in one
place, lest he should experience again the feelings
of a rooted plant.

He began to speculate upon his chances of fall-
ing in with dangerous beasts, and upon the probable
outcome of such an enconnter. He had known
of a man upon whom a threatened buck had once
wrought the vengeance so vastly overdue from its
race to mankind ; in his poaching expeditions with
Sir Nicholas the vicar he had often shuddered with a
transient fear of a similar fate. In those expeditions
he had dways had company, had been armed and
clad ; the strange sense of helplessness that besets
an undressed man was a new feeling to him.

At last, to his temporary relief, he came out of
the wood, as he knew by the less degree of dark-
ness, the change of air, and the smooth turf which
was delicious to his torn feet. But presently the
turf became spongy ; water oozed out as it gave

beneath his feet. He turned to the left, think-

ng to avoKl the marsh without entering the wood

agam; but the ground became still softer; a few

List: """'•"' ^""'"'"-^«^'-— a,

-■This is worse than the wood." he groaned, and
put h,s face .n what he took to be the direction of
the trees, "ut the farther he went, the deeper he
Mnk m water. He now knew not which way to
go m order to find the wood, or even the compara-
lively solid turf on which he had formerly been So
he stood railing inwardly against the spiteful destiny
that had selected him for the butt of its mirth
He had a sensation of being drawn downward; he
remembered, with horror, the stories of people sucked
under by the marshes, and he lifted first one foot
and then the other. He kept up this alternate
motion, trying each time to set his foot in a fresh
place and yet fearing to move backward or forward
lest he find himself worse off. The dread of becom-
mg a fixture in the earth came over him again, as a
greater probability th.r before, and impelled him to
move his legs faster.

"Would I were a morris-dancer now. with practice
of this motion." he thought, as the muscles of his
legs became more and more weary ; and he marvelled
understandingly at Will Kempe's famous dance to
pipe and tabor from London to Norwich. "Better,

;'K

342

CAI'TAI.V KA VENSIIA W.

after all, to be a tree," he sighed, " and not have to
toil thus all night lest the earth swallow me."

His legs finally rebelling against this monotonous
exercise, he resolved to go forward whatever befall ;
and just at that moment he saw, at what distance he
could not determine, a faint light. He uttered a cry
of satisfaction, supposing it to be a cottage window, or
a lantern borne by some night-walking countryman.
As it moved not at his cry, he decided it was a cot-
tage window, and he hastened toward it, through the
tall grass, careless how far he sank into the marsh.
But, as he drew near, it started away from him ; then
he told himself it was a lantern, and he called out to its
bearer not to be afraid, as he was but a poor scholar
lost in the fen. The light fled all the faster. As
he increased his pace, so did it. At last, out of
breath, he stopped in despair. The lantern stopped,
also. He started again ; it started, too.

"Oh, churl, boor, clodpate, whatever thou art I"
he shouted. "To treat a poor benighted traveller
thus, that means thee no harm ! These are country
manners, sure enough. Go to the devil, an thou
wilt. I'll no more follow thee."

But as the light now came to a stand, he ran
toward it, thinking the rustic had taken heart. He
was almost upon it, when suddenly it separated into
three lights, which leaped in three different direc-
tions. Knowing not which to follow, he stood be-

HOLYDAYS FURTHER ADVKKTVRF.S. 343

wildercd. After a moment, he made for the nearest
I'ght; It disappeared entirely. He turned to watch
tlic others ; they had vanished.

" Oh. this is ridiculous I " he said. •■ This cannot
' rea'. 1 ..rceive what it is. It is a dream I am
hnvmg , a fo„.,3h. bad dream. It has ix-en a dream
tvor s.a- . :,i„ce when? I was writing a puppet
nlay, an-l I raust have fallen asleep; I wrought my
mind mto a poetic fever, and theretcre my dream is
so iroubh'd and wild. My courtship of that maid -
but no, that was in bright day. 'tis certain, and 'tis
never bright day in dreams. Well, when I wake I
shall see where I am. and learn where the dream
began; perchance I am still at that horrible tree.
No; alas I these aches and scratches, this wretched
marsh, are too palpable. Tis no dream. Would it
were. Perhaps those rascals killed me in the wood
and I am in hell. Well. I will on. then, till I meet
the devil ; he may condescend to discourse with a
poor scholar; he should have much to tell worth a
man's hearing; no doubt, if he cannot talk in Eng-
lish, he can in Latin. Ah. what ? I am again on
terra firma: but terra incognita still. I'll go on till
something stops me. Oh!" he ejaculated, as he
bumped against a tree. " Here is another wood. Or
IS it the same wood ? I know not ; but I will on."

A brief uncovering of the moon — the same which
revealed to Millicent the huddled roofs of Marshleigh

344

CAPTAIN RAVENSIIAW.

Grange — gave Ilolyday a view of his surroundings.
Looking back across the fen, he saw what must
be the wood from which he had come. He stood,
therefore, on the border of a second wood. He
knew the wind was from the west ; hence, noting
the direction in which the clouds were flying, he
perceived that his course had been southward and
from the river. He ought to be on familiar ground
now, which he had often scoured with the parson
and their fellow poachers ; but ere he could assure
himself, moon and earth were blotted out, and he
was again in a world of the black unknown.

Turning his back to the marsh, he traversed the
second wood. A swift, loud wind raced over the
tree-tops, bringing greater dampness. He came into
what might be a glade, or a space of heath, which
he proceeded to cross. As he had been gradually
ascending in the past few minutes, he had no fear
of another bog at this place. He was by this time
ready to drop with fatigue. Stumbling over a little
mound, he fell upon soft grass. He lay there for
. some minutes, resting, till his body seemed to stiffen
with cold. Then he rose, and plunged wearily on
in despair. Suddenly, to the joy of his heart, he
heard voices ahead.

" I'll take oath 'tis no deer," said one. " Come
on ; the keeper is abroad in this walk ; I tell you
I spied the candle in's window to light him home."

ttOLYDAY'S FURTHER ADrnA'TURF.S. 345

•Til have a shot at it, fur all thai,' said another
Poachers, thought Holyday ; and they were speak-
ing of him. He flung himself down, just in time
to hear the twang of a crossbow where the voices
were, and the whizz of a bolt through the air where
his body had been.

"•Fore God, thou hast laid the thing low," said a
third voice. Recognising it, Holyday leaped up with
a cry, and ran forward, calling out :

"Sir Nicholas! oh. Sir Nick, thou poaching ras-
ral, 'tis I ! " ^

"God save us, 'tis a ghost; a human ghost'"
cried the first speaker.

"■Tisa white thing on two legs, sure," answered
the vicar, with trepidation.

" 'Tis the devil come for you ; he spoke y.ur name "
said their companion, affrightedly ; and instantly came
the sound 01' feet running away like mad.

Holyday pursued, shouting, -Tis I, Ralph Holy-
day! ' But the poachers, hearing the name, and
thinking it to be the spirit of Holyday come to
announce his own death, were soon quite out of
hearing.

Losing their direction, and knowing his wornout
legs were no match for their fresher ones, Holyday
sank to the earth, ready to weep with vexation.

"I see," he wailed. -'Tis a mockery devised
to torment me. To lift me out of the mire of

34*

CAPTAm KAVENSHAW.

despair into the very arms of my friend, and then
to fling me bacli deeper! A fine joke, no doubl,
on the part of Heaven ; but why one poor scholar
should provide all the mirth, I do not clearly per-
ceive. Was it indeed Sir Nick, or was it but an
illusion of mine ears? 'Tis all the same. Well,
I will sit shivering here till daylight ; what else
can I do .' "

But suddenly came the rain, a wind-driven deluge,
showing its full fury at the outset. In a trice the
scholar was drenched ; the drops seemed to beat
him down ; there was no surcease of them. He
ran for cover, and presently gained that of another
part of the wood. But even the trees could not
keep out this downpour. Water streamed from the
branches upon his head and body. He was flung
upon, buffeted, half-drowned. Never hnd he received
such a castigation from man or nature. He thought
the elements were arrayed against him, c.Trth to trip
and bruise him, air to chill him, fire to delude him,
water to flog him to death. But on he went, moved
always by a feeling that any spot must be better
than that whereon he was. At last he saw another
light.

" Nay, nay," said he ; " I am not to be fooled so
again. Go to, Jack-with-the-bntern ! I chase no
more will-o'-the-wisps."

But he bethought him that such a rain would put out

WS';^m

UOr.YDAY'S FUKTHILK ADr/-:A'Ta/.i;s.

347

any false fire; m(,ro()vor, he was in a wood, „n l,if;h
ground. And then, as he aj-proachcd, the light look
the form of a candle in a window. Ke remembered
vhat the poacher had said. Thi. must be the keeper's
lodge; if the candle was .still in the win.Knv, the
keeper had not yet come home, — the rain hail caught
him too. The keeper being still abroad, his <luor
might not be fastened. With a sense of having
reached the limit of endurance of the ruin's peltinj!
— for his thin shirt was no protection, —he dashed
blindly for the window, which was on the !eew: rd
side of the lodge. He felt his way along the front
of the house to the entrance, pushed the door oix.-n.
and stepped into a low, comfortable apartment, like
the kitchen and living room of a yeoman's cottage
Out of the rain and wind at last, his grateful logs
bore him across the room to a benrh. He .sat down,
nestling back to a great deer-skin that hung agaln.t
the bare wall of wood and plaster.

At one side of the room was a door to another
apartment; at the back was a Uldcr-like set of
wooden steps leading to a trap-way in the ceiling.
Holyday had scarce observed these details by the
candle in the window, when a coarse female voice,
as of one suddenly roused from sleep, railed out from
the other room : " Is't thou. Jack > Time tliuu wcrt
home! — hear the rain."

Holyday kept silence. Then he heard a bed

348

CAPTAIN nAVF.ffSIlAW.

creak as under the movements of a heavy body.
The woman was coming out to see what had made
the noise. And he, clad only in the briefest of
shirts ! A double terror shook him ; he sprang
across the room and blew out the candle. The door
opened, and a heavy, unshod tread sounded upon the
floor.

" Kcod, the light's out I " said the woman. " And
the door open." She found her way in the dark to
the door which Holyday had neglected to close upon
entering. " 'Twas the wind, I wis. Fool Jack, to
leave the door ill-fastened ! Well, he is served right,
for the wind hath blown out his candle. I must
make another light, forsooth."

Holyday, standing perfectly still near the window,
heard the woman grumbling about the task of strik-
ing a light. He felt himself blushing terribly in the
dark ; he was surely undone. But with a timely
inspiration, and glad for once that his feet were bare,
he went tiptoe back to where he had sat, stepped
over the bench, and slipped behind the deer-skin,
flattening himself as much as possible against the
wall as he stood.

The woman got the candle aflame, looked around
the room, replaced the light in the window, and went
back to the other chamber. Hearing the bed creak
again as it received her weight, Holyday came out
frwn his hiding-place. What should he do in order

HOLYDAY'S fUKTlJEK ADVEXTVUKS.

349

to profit for the rest of the night by tlic comforts
of this abode without discovery? He knew who
this woman was, and who Jack, her hiisband, was.
He had fallen foul of this keeper before he had left
for London, and the keeper was a fellow who would
take revenge when occasion offered. Pondering on
the situation, Holyday was almost of a mind to
face the stormy night again rather than risk capture
by the man in such circumstances. Before he could
make up his mind, he heard a gruff voice outside
ordering a dog to its kennel. It was Jack's voice.
Master Holyday fled panic-stricken up the narrow
stairs, through the open trap-door.

He was in a place of darkness. He forgot that
the height of the cottage — which served but to
house an under-keeper and his wife, and wt- not the
principal lodge pertaining to this chase — forbade
that the upper story should be more than a mere
loft ; but of this he was speedily reminded by a bump
of his head against a rafter. The loft was warm and
probably unoccupied, for Jack rarely had a guest.
The rain upon the roof made a din in Holyday's ears.
He felt his way to one end of the place, and lay
down, near a small window. He heard Jack entering
below, swearing at the storm, fastening the doo^
and finally joining his spouse in the sleeping-cham-
ber. There was some conversation in low tones,
and then the house was still.

WMS^M

350

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

Holyday's foot struck ajfainst the end of a wooden
chest. Crawling to it, he opened the top, and found
what he had hoped for, — soft garments in which
to lie. He tore off his wet shirt, rolled himself up in
what seemed to be a woman's gown, — Jack's wife
required dresses of ample capacity, — and sank away
in sweetest comfort to oblivion.

He woke from a dream of delicious warmth and
wondrous light, and found the sunshine in his face.
His window was toward the south. The sun had
passed the line of noon. Holyday gathered himself
up; surveyed the garment of russet wool he had

slept in ; and finally dressed himself in it in proper

manner. It hung loose upon him, but it covered his

nakedness.

A creak of the stairway drew his eyes toward the

trap. There rose into view the frowsy head and fat

face of Jack's wife.

" Ecod, I knew I heard somebody ! " she cried,

staring at Holyday fiercely. " And dressed in my

clothes, tool Oh, thou thief, I'll tear thy skin from

thee ! "

She came up the steps as fast as her bulk allowed.
But Master Holyday, with one glance at her great
clenched fists, kicked open the caser;ent behind him,
fell upon all fours, and backed out of the window,
from which he dropped as the woman reached it.
He alighted on a bank of flowers, scrambled to his

IIOLVDAVS FUKTlrEK ADyESrVRES. \t^\

feet, and, holding his skirt above his knees, trusted
all to his bare legs. Hi; heard the woman's furious
threats from the window, but tarried not to answer.
Plunging through the forest with the new strength
derived from his long sleep, he was soon far from the
cottage. Easing into a walk, he crossed heath and
fields till he came in sight of a pleasant mansion on
a green hill. Hetween '.lim and the hill lay a road,
which he must needs cross to reach Sir Nicholas's
house. He gained this road, and, seeing nobody
about, walked along it some distance so as to skirt
the base of the hill. Unexpectedly, from a lane he
was passing, came a resonant voice :

"Well, God-'a'-mercy ! what transformation have
we here .' "

Holyday turned, and beheld Captain Ravenshaw.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE CAPTAIN FORSWEARS SWAGGF.RIVa
■■ M, (olll.. .nd m, t«Kk. have „ end here.' _ »-i „„*„, ^.^

When Ravenshaw came to his senses, after losing
them on the floor of the hall, he gazed around in
wonder. He was in a soft bed, in a handsome nwm
which he had neve, seen before. Bright sunlight
streamed through an open casement which let in
also the music of birds. Beside his bed lay his
clothes neatly arranged; his sword and dagger-
and Master Holyday's puppet-play, which he had
carried in his doublet. At sight of the manuscript,
full remembrance ^ushed upon hfc, mind. Though
his bodily craving was to sink back on his pillow
and a fierce ache was in his head, ha leaped out of
bed. There was too much to be learned and done.
He pounced upon the ewer and basin he saw at
hand, and speedily soused himself into a more live
and less fevered state. While putting on his clothes,
wondering where on earth he was, he looked out
of the window upon a sweet prospect of green
hills, fields, a few distant sun-touched roofs, and a
3S»

THE ClPTAly FOKSWIiAKS SIVAGGEKIXO. 353

far-off steeple among trees. It ,vas plain that he
looked from a house on a low hill, ami that noon-
time had arrived.

A door opened, and in was thrust the head of a
man whose blue coat betokened a servant, and whose
manner declared a rustic.

" Dod, then your worship be up ! " said this fellow,
awkwardly entering. " Young mistress did vow she
heard somewhat stirring. I ask your worship's par-
don. If your worship had called — " He set about
trussing the points of the captain's doublet and hose.
"Who art thou.>" asked Ravenshaw.
"Your servant, sir. To tell truth, sir, Master
Ethendge's servant, sir; but yours while you be
here, your worship."

" Master Etheridge ? Master Bartlemy Ethcridge,
meanest thou .' "

" Yes, sir, by your leave, sir. He bade mc attend
in the gallery here, sir, to serve your wfu.sh.p an >ou
called."

" This is his house, then > "

"Yes, sir; his country-seat, your worship no'

that he hath any town house, begging you^ i«rd(,n. '
" How came I here .' "

"Dod, upon a stable door we found loose :u
Marshleigh Grange last night. Tfccks, Ml never for-
get such rain ; and to be roused out of bed in the
black o- the night, too! Hut as to fetching your

354

CAPTAIN KAV-h.NSIIAW.

worship hither, the young mistress wouldn't come if
you were left ; so master must needs bid us seek
somewhat to bear you hither upon. And never once
you woke, e'en when me and Dick took off your
clothes and put you to bed."

A strange warmth glowed in the captain's soul.
Lost in his thoughts, he passed out to the gallery
as soon as he was dressed. It was a wide, airy
gallery, with doors along the sides, and a window at
each end. In one of the windows sat a figure, which
rose the instant he appearcl It was Millicent. For
a second he paused, fearing she would meet him with
her old scorn, or flee down the stairs. But she stood
motionless, returning his look with some timidity,
blushing and pensive.

" So," said he, quietly, " you would not come if
I were left."

" I was much your debtor," she faltered.

" And you, watching here, heard me stirring, and
sent the manservant ? "

" Why, I was watching here," she replied, con-
fusedly, "lest my father should come unawares.
We were seen and followed, Master Holyday and
I, and my uncle thinks my father would go first to
Master Holyday's house, and then come hither.
But let him come what way he will, I can see him
afar from this window."

" And how if you see him ? "

rilS CAPTAIN FOKSWEAKS SWAGCEKING. 355

" There is an old chest in my aunt's chamber that
my uncle hath made ready, with holes bored in it for
j.«r. They wUI locic mc in. and feign that the key is
lost, and that the chest hath not been opened this
year.

"Your uncle hath stood your friend indeed in
this.

"Vcs he and -others, -more than I deserve.
My uncle .s no coward, in truth. -save to his wife,
and when he is in London against her will and
knowledge." She smiled faintly.

"He must have shown courage enough t,. Master
Jernmgham to fetch you off safe -and me, too,
when I was o'erthrown at last by their drug"

"Why, of a truth, my uncle came to that place
with so many men - every Jack on the estate, and
all that could be roused quickly in the village -that
Master Jerningham would have done ill to contest
The heart was taken out of him, I think ; four of his
men were killed, and of the rest, those that had come
with me fled when they saw their leader slain "

"Four men killed, troth!" said Ravenshaw. "of
whom I shall be asked to give account."

"But you will not be asked," she replied, quickly
" Twas in self^efence -and in defence of me But
there w.ll be no question made of the affair. Master
Jernmgham seemed as much to desire that as -as
my uncle. He hath his own reasons; he said he

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356

CAPTAIN RAVBNSHAW.

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and his men would keep silence. So my uncle
agreed to say nothing; those drunken beggars and
the rascals that betrayed me will hold their tongues
for their own sake ; and Mastei Jerningham said he
would dispose of the slain."

" But the slain have friends, — that gentleman will
surely be inquired after."

"Master Jerningham said he could explain his

disappearance, and the other men's. I know not

hr.v, but I would warrant he spoke in good faith."

" More false dealing, belike. I'll go and see."

" Nay ! whither would you go ? " Her face showed

alarm.

"Back to that house. I must see how matters
stand there. I must seek out the knaves that
betrayed you, and learn what hath befallen Master
Holyday. Where did they leave him ? "

" Alas ! I know not where 'twas. They beat him
down in the wood, and left him, — tied to a tree, one
said ; and they robbed him of his clothes. I should
not know where to look for the place."

" Be of good cheer. I'll find him, though I search
the forest through; and, if he be alive, I'll not eat
or sleep till you are wed."

"Then 'twas indeed your planning.'" she queried,
looking not too well pleased. " I had begun to think
as much, after last night."

"Why, troth, I — ah — did give the plan my

THE CAPTAIN FORSiVEARS SIVAGGF.RWG. 357

countenance •' admitted the captain. « But we durst
otet you know was privy to it; you thought so

Marshlcgh Gntnge was pure treason against us.
1 was too trustful; but I will undo my error if
Holyday be alive."

^J I marvel why ycu should have plotted so for

"To save you from wedding Sir Peregrine Med-
way. and to put you out of Master Jerningham's
ken as well. You said any husband was better- "
"But why chose you Master Holyday >"
"Faith, is he not young, and a gentleman, and
comely > And he will be well p.^ovided for upon h"s
marnage. e'en though he bring a wife without dowry
And then I was pleased at the chance of benefiting
h.m too. I could think of no better remedy than a
husband, and no better husband than he."

MUlicent was silent a moment, her brows a little
bent as tf she would say something she knew not
how to say; then seeing him move, as if to depart
she resumed: ^

PereS'e '^""^ "^ '^''*'' J^™i"gham as well as Sir
"Yes; I knew of his intent toward you. What

what will you think of me .? "

"But you did not." she said, holding his glance.

358

CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

" No," he answered, in a low voice.

" Why did you not ? "

"Faith, I cannot tell — I was formerly a gentle-
man — and you were — troth, when I talked with
you in the garden, I could not. And when I came
again, though I kept my false name, knowing how
people held my true one, 'twas indeed to plan your
escape from that old knight."

" I know not how I can ever prove my gratitude, —
and for last night." She paused, and dropped her
eyes; her heart beat fast while she awaited his
answer.

" You have put the debt on my side," he said.
" You would not come from that place if I were
left. And but now you were attentive to my
waking."

Evidently the answer fell short of her hopes.

"Oh," she said, a little pettishly, "I am on the
watch here lest my father come, as I told you. As
for your waking, yonder clodpate is a stupid fool.
My uncle thought, being drugged, you might sleep
all day and longer ; but I said you were no ordinary
man."

" Troth," said Ravenshaw, smiling. " I somewhat
broke the drug's power by resisting /our uncle
came. And now that I am so soon awake, the
sooner may I seek your husband that shall be." He
turned toward the stair-head.

THE CAPTAm FOKSWEAKS SWAGCEJ^/A-c. 359

" But hear mc, I pray ! If y„u go back there, you
hazard your life again."

He touched his sword and dagger, which he had
girded on m the bedchamber. ■• I still carry these "

ttem''"''''' "^"'^ ^ """'* *''""'' ^°" ^°' recovering
" Nay," said she, blushing again ; " the sword never
left your hand. There was but your dagger to seek.
But go not back there, I beg of you!" She could
scarce conceal the depth of her solicitude.

"Why, why, mistress, fear not for me. There is
no danger."

" I entreat you not to go."

"Nay, the more you concern yourself for my

■-•ty, the more am I bound to go and serve you."

"Take men with you, then."

"Nay, your uncle must keep his men here to

protect you. But one to show me the way, -the

old beggar that summoned your uncle last night —

perchance he came hither with us."

"No. he stayed with his comrades; my uncle paid
nim for his service."

"I must e'en thank your uncle for that ; and for
his care of me."

" I will take you to him, and my aunt," she replied,
eagerly, seeing a chance of delaying his departure
and gaining time for dissuasions.

But he seemed to read her thought; he took a

360

CAPTAIN RAVENSirAW.

sudden resolution, and said : " Nay, I'll thank him
when I return. Farewell, and — "

" You will return — soon ? " she said, with quiver-
ing lip.

" Ay, with Master Holyday — or news of him,"
he answered, and tu.ned to the servant: "Show
me the way to Marshleigh Grange, and make haste."

Avoiding her glance, he hurried down the stairs
ere she could frame a further objection. The ser-
vant, wonder-eyed, followed him. When he was out
of the house, he shook his head, and said within
himself : " Another minute in her presence, and
'twould have been she that bade me go, I that
begged to stay."

He dared not look back; had he done so, as he
ha.'^'.ened down the hillside, he might have seen that
she had changed her window for one which looked
toward his road. When he disappeared in the lane
to which his man conducted him, she dropped her
face upon her arms.

The lonely plain whereon the Grange stood was
nearer than he had supposed. When he reached the
house, there was no sign of life about it. He called
and knocked ; and finally was admitted to the hall
by Jeremy. The old man was its only occupant,
living or dead. He was engaged in washing out
sundry stains that reddened the floor.

" Hath your master taken them away ? " asked

TUB CAPTAJN FORSWEARS

• ii^Aac/:A-/xu: 3O1

Ravcnshaw. bluntly, nodding toward the stained
places.

"Ay, but a short while since," said the oUl man
unconcernedly. - ; trow they are to have sea burial'
He came and had them carried aboard a ship He
and they are e'en now bound seaward "

Meg?'" " '"'''"^'' ^''"■' '' '^^ ^°™^"' ^'^'^'-■^^
"He hath ta'en her along on the ship. Troth
she swore she would not stay another night under
th.s roof. There was much talk atwi.xt 'em She
's to be a queen on nn Island where 'tis always
summer." •'

Wondering if the old man had lo.,t his wits the
captam asked, " And you are alone here .' " '

"Ay, and well enough, too. I have no mind to
go a-voyaging. I shall have all the milk, now, and
all the eggs; and no foolish woman prating ever
of ghosts and witches, m have some peace and
quiet now.

"The beggars have gone, then .' "

"Ay; when they came sober, and saw slain men
upon the floor, they fled as if the hangman were
after em Ha ! I knew enough to hide the chickens
over n.ght. ' The old man chuckled triumphantly

From what further information he could draw,
the captain made out that Jemingham's own men
had embarked with him, and that Cutting Tom's

362

CAPTAIN RAi'ENSllAW.

followers had gone their way unheeded. Not till
days afterward was he assured that Jerningham
had indeed set sail for some far country. To the
bishop and others, the voyager had accounted for
the absence of Ermsby and Gregory by a tale of
their having preceded the vessel to Gravesend,
where they were to come aboard. He and his ship
were never heard of again.

The captain left the Grange, thinking ne.xt to
inquire of Sir Nicholas the vicar. If Holyday had
not contrived to find his way to his old friend's
abode, the parson would doubtless help search the
woods for him. Ravenshaw's attendant knew where
Sir Nicholas lived. The way passed near his mas-
ter's house. The captain made him lead at a rapid
pace. It was when they were emerging from a lane
into the road that Ravenshaw came upon Master
Holyday, at .red in the loose-hinging garb of the
keeper's wife.

The captain, after the briefest salutations, grasped
the scholar's arm, and ran with him up the hill
toward Master Etheridge's house. Millicent, seeing
them coming, and recognising only Ravenshaw, made
haste to join her aunt and uncle, who had gone to
discuss .er situation out of her presence. She found
them in the orchard at the rear of the house.

To that place, having inquired of the first ser-
vant he mei, the captain dragged the breathless and

TlfF. CAPTAm FOKSWEAKS SIVAOGKRIXG. l^r,

protesting scholar Milliccnt's wonder, at sight of
Holyday's distressed face, was almost equal to that
of her portly uncle and his stately, angular si>ouse.

"Good-morrow, madam," said Rr./enshaw, with a
bow which at once surprised the dame's severity into
fluttering graciousness. "And to you, sir." He
then turned to Millicent. "Know you not Master
Holyday. mistress? I met him by chance; he was
hastening hither for news of you."

But Millicent's astonishment at the poor scholar's
appearance had given place to a look of decided
disapproval. Holyday himself stood red-faced and
sullen.

"You are welcome, sir," said Master Bartlemy
Etheridge. in an uneasy voice. His countenance
was worked into a painful attempt to convey some-
thing to the captain's mind privately ; in his concern
upon that score, he paid no heed to Master Holyday,
whom his wife greeted with a curtsey.

"I am much bounden to you, sir," said Raven-
Shaw. "For your care of me, and your h(,spitality.
my gratitude shall balance my want of desert. At
our last meeting — "

"Meeting, sir.'" broke in Uncle Bartlemy, in

despair at the evident failure of his fac-'al exertions.

" rii take oath I never met you before ; it must have

been some other gentleman of my appearance."

" Our meeting last night, sir, I meant," said Raven-

3<54

CAPTAIN KAVSNSHAIV.

I™p«

'thoujjh, indeed, 'twas a brief

shaw, with a smile ;
matter on my part."

" Oh, last night, forsooth ; oh, yes, yes, yes," said
the old gentleman, with a look of infinite relief.
"Troth, yes, certainly, indeed. And you. Master
Holyday, God save you. Tis long since I have seen
you; you have changed much."

As Uncle Bartlemy's gaze was upon the scholar's
dress, Holyday's assumption was that the remark
was concerned thereu-ith.

" Faith, sir," said he, resentfully, " 'tis fi le manners
in you to jeer ; my wearing this gown comes of my
willingness to marry your niece."
" Oh, indeed ! " quoth Millicent.
"Troth," went on the poet, miserably, "it hath
been ill upon ill, e'er since I ran away with her. !f
such a night be the beginning of our marriage,
what shall be the end of it, in God's name .' "

" There shall be no end of it," retorted Millicent ;
"and no beginning, either. Last night, say you.'
Ay, you showed bravely then. You are well suited
in a woman's gown, I think. A fine husband you
would be, to protect a wife ! "

The scholar's face cleared somewhat ; turning to
Ravenshaw, he said :

" Give me my puppet-play. I'll go back to Lon-
don. You see she will not have me."

" Softly, softly ! " cried the captain. " Would you

TUF. CAPTAItf hORSWEAKS SWACaHKIXC. 365

mar all at the last, mistress ? Reflect, I pray ; y„ur
only true safety lies in marriage ere your father finds
you. You will not bring all my plans to nothing ?
I do entreat you — "

He stopped at a sudden parting of her lips; he
looked around to sec what alarmed her. There,
coming from the house to the orchard, were Master
Etheridge the goldsmith, Sir Peregrine Medway, and
a ruddy, irascible-looking country gentleman.

"Plague take it!" muttered Uncle Bartlemy to
Millicent ; " this comes of not watching."

As Sir Peregrine was the embodiment of lagging
w ncss, and the goldsmith was himself well fagged,
their companion was first within speaking distance!
With scant greeting for the elderly couple, he turnal
fierce eyes on the scholar.

"How .low.'" he burst out. "Thou unthrifi !
thou ne'er<io-well I thou good-for-naught ! Wouldst
run away with my old friend's daughter.' I'll teach
thee, knave!"

But the captain stepped between the elder Holy,
day and the son, for he felt the quarrel to be his
own, and saw his painfully reared structure of events
ready to fa'' about him.

"Sir," he said, "he did it for your behoof; he
marries to perpetuate your stock."

" Sir," replied Holyday the father, " I can attend
to that myself. I am taking a wife ne.xt Thursday ;

366

CAPTAIN KAVENSllAW.

my rascal son would not seek one when I bade him ;
so I sent him jwcking ; but now he shall conic home'
and be kept out of mischief."

The goldsmith, coming up, ignored his brother,
bowed stiffly to the latter's wife, and stood before
Millicent, his hands open as if he would fain clutch
her.

••Thou baggage, thou'rt caught in time! Thou
Shalt not sleep till thouVt tied in marriage to Sir
Peregrine." He made to grasp her by the arm.

"Touch me not!" she cried, with a sudden
thought. "You have no power over me; I am
married I "

Her father stared. Master Holyday, taken by
surprise, said, emphatically :

" Not to me, that I'll take oath ; so I am a free
man, of a surety ! "

Ravenshaw could have struck him down. But
Millicent, after one crestfallen moment, said, quietly :
•'Not to Master Holyday, certainly; but to this
gentleman." And she went to the captain's side.

There v-as a moment's general silence, during
which Sir Peregrine, overcome by his long exertion,
leaned limply against a tree.

••To this villain.'" cried the goldsmith; "this
cozener, this notable rascal, this tavern-cheat. 'Tis
not possible ; there hath not been time ; not even
for a license."

THE C.irTAtM IH}liSWEAKS SWACGEHmc. 367

. illiccnt looked up at Ravcnshaw's face, whereby
he knew she desired him to take up the ruse.

" Sir," qu.rth he, "there hath been more time than
you w.,t of; we have all been in the plot together
for three days now."

"A pack of knaves!" shouted the goldsmith.
"An there hath been a marriage, 'twill not hold.
She was bound by pre<ontract."

" 'Tis not true." cried Millicent. •■ Sir Peregrine
knows I would not receive his tokens."

"Oh. good lack!" quoth the old knight, faint of
.oice; -'tis all as well. I am glad your daughter
hath released me, Master Etheridge. She is much
mclmed to je lousy. I see that ; belike I should give
her cause, to I thank her for my liberty."

The goldsruith cast on the old knight a look of
wrathful disgust, and walked precipitately from the
place, breathing out plagues, murrains, and poxes.
Sir Peregrine laboriously followed him. But Holy,
day's father dragged the scholar aside to talk with
him privily.

Ravenshaw turned to Millicent. -The device
served well. But the truth must out in time. Your
father will have his revenge then."

"Alas. I have told a great falsehood," said she
braving her blushes. " I know not how to ci ,r my
soul of it — unless you - " She hesitated.

" I. mistress ? What can I do ? "

368 CAPTAIN RAVENSHAW.

"Make It the truth," she faltered, dropping her
eyes.

For a time he could not speak.

" Oh, mistress ! " he said, at last, with unsteady
voice ; " would to God I might — But think you of
my reputation."

" You will amend that ; 'tis no great matter."

" I am no worthy mate for you."

" You have fought for me."

" You will learn to hate me again ; you hated me
but yesterday."

" 'Twas because 1 had loved you the day before ;
else I should not have heeded."

" You are a world too good for me."

"Troth, I am not good in all eyes. Sir Peregrine
is glad to be rid of me, and Master Holyday will not
have me."

" I am penniless."

" My uncle hath said he would provide for me."

Ravenshaw looked at Uncle Bartlemy, who had
been calming his wife's wonder. The old gentleman,
with a fine attempt at hidden meaning, thus delivered
himself :

" Sir, I owe you much upon the score of our first
meeting — whereof you spoke awhile ago. If you
can be content here in the country, with a wing of
our poor house, while we live — 'twill all be Milli-
cent's when we are buried — "

rifj, CAPTAIN FOKSWEAHS SWACGEKmc. 369

an^Zt" '"?" '^"' '''^' ""'° h'^' he turned
and took her gently in his arms

Master Holyday, having come to an adjustment

wu h f,,,er. callously interrupted this embT c

etntLdresrr^°^'-^P-'^°-"-y calamities.

Ravenshaw drew forth the manuscript from his
doublet, sayng: ..Jf yo„ return to your father-
house, we are like to be your neighbours. And your
fnend S.r Nicholas shall earn a fee in spite of Jo'J

"Troth, then. I'll write your nuptial hymn," said
he poet, tenderly handling his puppet-play I'-^tx

Z, 7chr"'; ~ '/P'"'^'--'" '° the Beauteous
Ma.d of Cheapside and the Roaring Captain.' "

'Nay, the roaring captain is no more," said Ra
venshaw "I am a gentleman again. 'Beliete^;

quirSw'"^""^-"'^'^''"^'^— mine...

THE END.