UC-NRLF B 3 3S7 ^s,& manlev J. ^eimiin u J <^ *. k J i'o THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN AUTHOR OF " THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF," ETC. ' J >: > >; NEW YORK THE CASSELL PUBLISHING CO. 31 East 17TH St. (Union Square) Copyright, 1891, by CASSELL PUBLISHING COMPANY. All rights reserved. *■ * '■t *■ xc\ «.;,*;; c* c ,' ' THE MERSHON COMPANY PRESS, RAHWAY, N. J. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE I. " He, Sire Ane, He," i II. In THE Bishop's Room, 13 III. " Down WITH Purveyors!" 24 IV. Two Sisters of Mercy, ...... 35 V. Mistress Bertram, .47 VI. Master Clarence, 59 VII. On Board the " Framlingham," 69 VIII. A House of Peace, 82 IX. Playing with Fire 93 X. The Face in the Porch, 106 XI. A Foul Blow, .117 XII. Anne's Petition, . 129 XIII. A Willful Man's Way, 141 XIV. At Bay in the Gatehouse, i55 ' XV. Before the Court, 169 XVI. In the Duke's Name, . . . . . . .180 XVII. A Letter that had Many Escapes, .... 192 XVI II. The Witch's Warning, 202 XIX. Ferdinand Cludde, . . . . . .215 XX. The Coming Queen, 227 XXI. My Father, . . .239 XXII. Sir Anthony's Purpose, 249 XXIII. The Last Mass, 259 XXIV. Awaiting the Blow, ..=,.,. . 270 XXV. In Harbor at Last, . 283 292705 The Story of Francis Cludde. CHAPTER I. •'h^, sire ane, utV* ON the boundary line between the two counties of War- wick and Worcester there is a road very famous in those parts, and called the Ridgeway. Father Carey used to say — and no better Latinist could be found for a score of miles round in the times of which I write — that it was made by the Romans. It runs north and south along the narrow spine of the country, which is spread out on either side like a map, or a picture. As you fare southward you see on your right hand the green orchards and pastures of Worcestershire stretching as far as the Malvern Hills. You have in front of you Bredon Hill, which is a wonderful hill, for if a man goes down the Avon by boat it goes with him — now before, and now behind — a whole day's journey — and then stands in the same place. And on the left hand you have the great Forest of Arden, and not much besides, except oak trees, which grow well in Warwickshire. I describe this road, firstly, because it is a notable one, and forty years ago was the only Queen's highway, to call a highway, in that country. The rest were mere horse- tracks. Secondly, because the chase wall of Coton End runs along the side of it for two good miles ; and the Cluddes — I am Francis Cludde — have lived at Coton End by the Ridgeway time out of mind, probably — for the name smacks of the soil — before the Romans made the road. And thirdly, because forty years ago, on a drizzling February day in 1555 — second year of Mary, old religion just re- established — a number of people were collected on this 2 THE :STOR y OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. road, forming a group of a score or more, who stood in an ordered kind of disorder about my uncle's gates and looked all one way, as if expecting an arrival, and an arrival of consequence. First, there was my uncle Sir Anthony, tall and lean. He wore his best black velvet doublet and cloak, and had put them on with an air of huge importance. This increased each time he turned, staff in hand, and surveyed his follow- ing, and as regularly gave place to a "Pshaw!" of vexation and a petulant glance when his eye rested on me. Close beside him, looking important too, but anxious and a little frightened as well, stood good Father Carey. The priest wore his silk cassock, and his lips moved from time to time with- out sound, as though he were trying over a Latin oration — which, indeed, was the fact. At a more respectful dis- tance were ranged Baldwin Moor, the steward, and a dozen servants; while still farther away lounged as many raga- muffins — landless men, who swarmed about every gentle- man's door in those times, and took toll of such abbey lands as the king might have given him. Against one of the stone gate-pillars I leaned myself — nineteen years and six months old, and none too wise, though well grown, and as strong as one here and there. And perched on the top of the twin post, with his chin on his knees, and his hands clasped about them, was Martin Luther, the fool. Martin had chosen this elevated position partly out of curiosity, and partly, perhaps, under a strong sense of duty. He knew that, whether he would or no, he must needs look funny up there. His nose was red, and his eyes were run- ning, and his teeth chattering; and he did look funny. But as he felt the cold most his patience failed first. The steadv, silent drizzle, the mist creeping about the stems of the oak trees, the leaden sky proved too much for him in the end. "A watched pot never boils!" he grumbled. "Silence, sirrah ! " commanded my uncle angrily. "This is no time for your fooling. Have a care how you talk in the same breath of pots and my Lord Bishop!" *^ SanctcE ecclesics" Father Carey broke out, turning up his eyes in a kind of ecstasy, as though he were knee to knee with the prelate — *7.When I awoke, which I seemed to do on a sudden, it was still dark. I wondered for a moment where I was, and what was the meaning of the shouting and knocking I TIVO SISTERS OF MERCY. 43 heard. Then, discerning the faint outline of the window, I remembered the place in which I had gone to bed, and I sat up and listened. Some one — nay, several people — were drumming and kicking against the wooden doors of the inn-yard, and shouting besides, loud enough to raise the dead. In the next room to mine I caught the grumbling voices of persons disturbed, like myself, from sleep. And by and by a window was opened, and I heard the landlord ask what was the matter. "In the Queen's name!" came the loud, impatient an- swer, given in a voice that rose above the ring of bridles and the stamping of iron hoofs, "open! and that quickly. Master Host. The watch are here, and we must search." I waited to hear no more. I was out of bed, and hud- dling on my clothes, and thrusting my feet into my boots, like one possessed. My heart was beating as fast as if I had been running in a race, and my hands were shaking with the shock of the alarm. The impatient voice without was Master Pritchard's, and it rang with all the vengeful passion which I should have expected that gentleman, duped, ducked, and robbed, to be feeling. There would be little mercy to be had at his hands. Moreover, my ears, grown as keen for the moment as the hunted hare's, distin- guished the tramping of at least half-a-dozen horses, so that it was clear that he had come with a force at his back. Resistance would be useless. My sole chance lay in flight — if flight should still be possible. Even in my haste I did not forsake the talisman which had served me so well, but stayed an instant to thrust it into my pocket. The Cluddes have, I fancy, a knack of keeping cool in emergencies, getting, indeed, the cooler the greater the stress. By this time the inn was thoroughly aroused. Doors were opening and shutting on all sides of me, and questions were being shouted in different tones from room to room. In the midst of the hubbub I heard the landlord come out muttering, and go downstairs to open the door. Instantly I unlatched mine, slipped through it stealthily, sneaked a step or two down the passage, and then came plump in the dark against some one who was moving as softly as myself. The surprise was complete, and I should have cried out at the unexpected collision, had not the unknown laid a cold 44 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. hand on my mouth, and gently pushed me back into my room. Here there was now a faint glimmer of dawn, and by this I saw that my companion was the serving-maid. **Hist!" she said, speaking under her breath, "Is it you they want?" I nodded. "I thought so," she muttered. "Then you must get out through your window. You cannot pass them. They are a dozen or more, and armed. Quick! knot this about the bars. It is no great depth to the bottom, and the ground is soft from the rain." She tore, as she spoke, the coverlet from the bed, and, twisting it into a kind of rope, helped me to secure one corner of it about the window-bar. ' 'When you are down," she whispered, "keep along the wall to the right until you come to a haystack. Turn to the left there — you will have to ford the water — and you will soon be clear of the town. Look about you then, and you will see a horse- track, which leads to Elstree, running in a line with the London Road, but a mile from it and through woods. At Elstree any path to the left will take you to Barnet, and not two miles lost." "Heaven bless you!" I said, turning from the gloom, the dark sky, and driving scud without to peer gratefully at her. "Heaven bless you for a good woman!" "And God keep you for a bonny boy<" she whispered. I kissed her, forcing into her hands — a thing the remem- brance of which is very pleasant to me to this day — my last piece of gold. A moment more, and I stood unhurt, but almost up to my knees in mud, in an alley bounded on both sides, as far as I could see, by blind walls. Stopping only to indicate by a low whistle that I was safe, I turned and sped away as fast as I could run in the direction which she had pointed out. There was no one abroad, and in a shorter time than I had expected I found myself outside the town, traveling over a kind of moorland tract bounded in the distance by woods. Here I picked up the horse-track easily enough, and without stopping, save for a short breathing space, hurried along it, to gain the shelter of the trees. So far so good ! TWO SISTERS OF MERCY, 45 I had reason to be thankful. But my case was still an indifferent one. More than once in getting out of the town I had slipped and fallen. I was wet through, and plastered with dirt owing to these mishaps ; and my clothes were in a woeful plight. For a time excitement kept me up, however, and I made good way, warmed by the thought that I had again baffled the great Bishop. It was only when the day had come, and grown on to noon, and I saw no sign of any pursuers, that thought got the upper hand. Then I began to compare, with some bitterness of feeling, my present condition — wet, dirty, and homeless — with that which I had enjoyed only a week before ; and it needed all my courage to support me. Skulking, half famished, between Barnet and Tottenham, often compelled to crouch in ditches or behind walls while travelers went by, and liable each instant to have to leave the highway and take to my heels, I had leisure to feel ; and I did feel, more keenly, I think, that afternoon than at any later time, the bitterness of fortune. I cursed Stephen Gardiner a dozen times, and dared not let my thoughts wander to my father. I had said that I would build my house afresh. Well, truly I was building it from the foundation. It added very much to my misery that it rained all day a cold, half-frozen rain. The whole afternoon I spent in hiding, shivering and shaking in a hole under a ledge near Tottenham; being afraid to go into London before night- fall, lest I should be waited for at the gate and be captured. Chilled and bedraggled as I was, and weak through want of food which I dared not go out to beg, the terrors of cap- ture got hold of my mind and presented to me one by one every horrible form of humiliation, the stocks, the pillory, the cart-tail; so that even Master Pritchard, could he have seen me and known my mind, might have pitied me; so that I loathe to this day the hours I spent in that foul hiding-place. Between a man's best and worse, there is little but a platter of food. The way this was put an end to, I well remember. An old woman came into the field where I lay hid, to drive home a cow. I had had my eyes on this cow for at least an hour, having made up my mind to milk it for my own benefit as soon as the dusk fell. In my disappointment at seeing it driven off, and also out of a desire to learn whether 46 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. the old dame might not be going to milk it in a corner of the pasture, in which case I might still get an after taste, I crawled so far out of my hole that, turning suddenly, she caught sight of me. I expected to see her hurry off, but she did not. She took a long look, and then came back toward me, making, however, as it seemed to me, as if she did not see me. When she had come within a few feet of me, she looked down abruptly, and our eyes met. What she saw in mine I can only guess. In hers I read a divine pity. "Oh, poor lad!" she murmured; "oh, you poor, poor lad!" and there were tears in her voice. I was so weak — it was almost twenty-four hours since I had tasted food, and I had come twenty-four miles in the time — that at that I broke down, and cried like a child. I learned later that the old woman took me for just the same person for whom the Bailiff at St. Albans had mistaken me, a young apprentice named Hunter, who had got into trouble about religion, and was at this time hiding up and down the country; Bishop Bonner having clapped his father into jail until the son should come to hand. But her kind heart knew no distinction of creeds. She took me to her cottage as soon as night fell, and warmed, and dried, and fed me. She did not dare to keep me under her roof for longer than an hour or two, neither would I have stayed to endanger her. But she sent me out a new man, with a crust, moreover, in my pocket. A hundred times between Tottenham and Aldersgate I said "God bless her!" And I say so now. So twice in one day, and that the gloomiest day of my life, I was succored by a woman. I have never forgotten it. I have tried to keep it always in mind ; remembering too a saying of my uncle's, that "there is nothing on earth so merciful as a good woman, or so pitiless as a bad one ! ' ' CHAPTER V. MISTRESS BERTRAM. ""TVING! ding! ding! Aid ye the poor! Pray for the U dead! Five o'clock and a murky morning." The noise of the bell, and the cry which accompanied it, roused me from my first sleep in London, and that with a vengeance; the bell being rung and the words uttered within three feet of my head. Where did I sleep, then? Well, I had found a cozy resting-place behind some boards which stood propped against the wall of a baker's oven in a street near Moorgate. The wall was warm and smelt of new bread, and another besides myself had discovered its 'advan- tages. This was the watchman, who had slumbered away most of his vigil cheek by jowl with me, but, morning approaching, had roused himself, and before he was well out of his bed, certainly before he had left his bedroom, had begun — the ungrateful wretch — to prove his watchful- ness by disturbing every one else. I sat up and rubbed my eyes, grinding my shoulders. well against the wall for warmth. I had no need to turn out yet, but I began to think, and the more I thought the harder I stared at the planks six inches before my nose. My thoughts turned upon a very knotty point; one that I had never seriously considered before. What was I going to do next? How was I going to live or to rear the new house of which I have made mention? Hitherto I had aimed simply at reaching London. London had paraded itself before my mind — though my mind should have known better — not as a town of cold streets and dreary alleys and shops open from seven to four with perhaps here and there a vacant place for an apprentice ; but as a gilded city of adventure and romance, in which a young man of enterprise, whether he wanted to go abroad or to rise at home, might be sure of finding his sword weighed, priced, and bought up on the instant, and himself valued at his own standard. But London reached, the hoarding in Moorgate reached, and five o'clock in the morning reached, somehow these visions faded rapidly. In the cold reality left to me I felt myself astray. If I would stay at home, who was going to 48 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE, employ me? To whom should I apply? What patron had I? Or if I would go abroad, how was I to set about it? how find a vessel, seeing that I might expect to be arrested the moment I showed my face in daylight? Here all my experience failed me. I did not know what to do, though the time had come for action, and I must do or starve. It had been all very well when I was at Coton, to propose that I would go up to London, and get across the water — such had been my dim notion — to the Courte- nays and Killigrews, who, with other refugees, Protestants for the most part, were lying on the French coast, waiting for better times. But now that I was in London, and as good as an outlaw myself, I saw no means of going to them. I seemed farther from my goal than I had been in War- wickshire. Thinking very blankly over this I began to munch the piece of bread which I owed to the old dame at Tottenham; and had solemnly got through half of it, when the sound of rapid footsteps — the footsteps of women, I judged from the lightness of the tread — caused me to hold my hand and listen. Whoever they Avere — and I wondered, for it was still early, and I had heard no one pass since the watchman left me — they came to a stand in front of my shelter, and one one of them spoke. Her words made me start; unmistakably the voice was a gentlewoman's, such as I had not heard for almost a week. And at this place and hour, on the raw borderland of day and night, a gentlewoman was the last person I expected to light upon. Yet if the speaker were not some one of station, Petronilla's lessons had been thrown away upon me. The words were uttered in a low voice ; but the planks in front of me were thin, and the speaker was actually lean- ing against them. I caught every accent of what seemed to be the answer to a question. "Yes, yes! It is all right!" she said, a covert ring of impatience in her tone. "Take breath a moment. I do not see him now." "TJiank Heaven!" muttered another voice. As I had fancied, there were two persons. The latter speaker's tone smacked equally of breeding with the former's, but was rounder and fuller, and more masterful; and she appeared to be out of breath. "Then perhaps we have thrown him off the trail," she continued, after a short pause, in which MISTMSS BERTkAM, 49 she seemed to have somewhat recovered herself. "I dis- trusted him from the first, Anne — from the first. Yet, do you know, I never feared him as I did Master Clarence; and as it was too much to hope that we should be rid of both at once — they took good care of that — w hy, the attempt had to be made while he was at home. But I always felt he was a spy." "Who? Master Clarence?" asked she who had spoken first. "Ay, he certainly. But I did not mean him, I meant Philip." "Well, I — I said at first, you remertiber, that it was a foolhardy enterprise, mistress!" "Tut, tut, girl!" quoth the other tartly — this time the impatience lay with her, and she took no pains to conceal it — "we are not beaten yet. Come, look about! Cannot you remember where we are, nor which way the river should be? If the dawn were come, we could tell." "But with the dawn " "The streets would fill. True, and. Master Philip giving the alarm, we should be detected before we had gone far. The more need, girl, to lose no time. I have my breath again, and the child is asleep. Let us venture one way or the other, and Heaven grant it be the right one!" "Let me see," the younger woman answered slowly, as if in doubt. "Did we come by the church? No; we came the other way. Let us try this turning, then." "Why, child, we came that way," was the decided an- swer. "What are you thinking of? That would take us straight back into his arms, the wretch! Come, come! you loiter," continued this, the more masculine speaker, "and a minute may make all the difference between a prison and freedom. If we can reach the Lion Wharf by seven — it is like to be a dark morning and foggy — we may still escape before Master Philip brings the watch upon us." They moved briskly away as she spoke, and her words were already growing indistinct from distance, while I remained still, idly seeking the clew to their talk and muttering over and over again the name Clarence, which seemed familiar to me, when a cry of ala.rm, in which I recognized one of their voices, cut short my reverie. I crawled with all speed from my shelter, and sU^ up, being still in a line with the 5o THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. boards, and not easily distinguishable. As she had said, it was a dark morning; but the roofs of the houses — now high, now low — could be plainly discerned against a gray, drift- ing sky wherein the first signs of dawn were visible ; and the blank outlines of the streets, which met at this point, could be seen. Six or seven yards from me, in the middle of the roadway, stood three dusky figures, of whom I judged the nearer, from their attitudes, to be the two women. The farthest seemed to be a man. I was astonished to see that he was standing cap in hand; nay, I was disgusted as well, for I had crept out hot-fisted, expecting to be called upon to defend the women. But, despite the cry I had heard, they were talking to him quietly enough, as far as I could hear. And in a minute or so I saw the taller woman give him something. He took it with a low bow, and appeared almost to sweep the dirt with his bonnet. She waved her hand in dismissal, and he stood back still uncovered. And — hey, presto! the women tripped swiftly away. By this time my curiosity was intensely excited, but for a moment I thought it was doomed to disappointment. I thought that it was all over. It was not, by any means. The man stood looking after them until they reached the corner, and the moment they had passed it, he followed. His stealthy manner of going, and his fashion of peering after them, was enough for me. I guessed at once that he was dogging them, following them unknown to them and against their will; and with considerable elation I started after him, using the same precautions. What was sauce, for the geese was sauce for the gander! So we went, two — one — one, slipping after one another through half a dozen dark streets, ten.ding generally southward. Following him in this way I seldom caught a glimpse of the women. The man kept at a considerable distance behind them, and I had my attention fixed on him. But once or twice, when, turning a corner, I all but trod on his heels, I saw them ; and presently an odd point about them struck me. There was a white kerchief or something attached apparently to the back of the one's cloak, which considerably assisted my stealthy friend to keep them in view. It puzzled me. Was it a signal to him? Was he really all the time acting in concert with 4hem ; ap4 was I MISTRESS BERTRAM. $1 throwing away my pains? Or was the white object which so betrayed them merely the result of carelessness, and the lack of foresight of women grappling with a condition of things to which they were unaccustomed? Of course I could not decide this, the more as, at that distance, I failed to distinguish what the white something was, or even which of the two wore it. Presently I got a clew to our position, for we crossed Cheapside close to Paul's Cross, which my childish memo- ries of the town enabled me to recognize, even by that light. Here my friend looked up and down, and hung a minute on his heel before he foil-owed the women, as if expecting or looking for some one. It might be that he was trying to make certain that the watch were not in sight. They were not, at any rate. Probably they had gone home to bed, for the morning was growing. And, after a momentary hesitation, he plunged into the narrow street down which the women had flitted. . He had only gone a few yards when I heard him cry out. The next instant, almost running against him myself, I saw what had happened. The women had craftily lain in wait for him in the little court into which the street ran and .had caught him as neatly as could be. When I came upon them the taller woman was standing at bay with a passion that was almost fury in her pose and gesture. Her face, from which the hood of a coarse cloak had fallen back, was pale with anger; her gray eyes flashed, her teeth glimmered. Seeing her thus, and seeing the burden she carried under her cloak — which instinct told me was her child — I thought of a tigress brought to bay. "You lying knave!" she hissed. "You Judas!" The man recoiled a couple of paces, and in recoiling nearly touched me. "What would you?" she continued. "What do you want? What would you do? You have been paid to go. Go, and leave us!" **I dare not," he muttered, keeping away from her as if he dreaded a blow. She looked a woman who could deal a blow, a woman who could both love and hate fiercely and openly — as proud and frank and haughty a lady as I had ever seen in my life. "I dare not," he roiiUered sullenly; "I have my orders." 52 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE, "Oh!" she cried, with scorn. "You have your orders, have you! The murder is out. But from whom, sirrah? Whose orders are to supersede mine? I would King Harry were alive, and I would have you whipped to Tyburn. Speak, rogue; who bade you follow me ?" He shook his head. She looked about her wildly, passionately, and I saw that she was at her wits' end what to do, or how to escape him. But she was a woman. When she next spoke there was a marvelous change in her. Her face had grown soft, her voice low. "Philip," she said gently, "the purse was light. I will give you more. I will give. you treble the amount within a few weeks, and I will thank you on my knees, and my husband shall be such a friend to you as you have never dreamed of, if you will only go home and be silent. Only that — or, better still, walk the streets an hour, and then report that you lost sight of us. Think, man, think!" she cried with energy — "the times may change. A little more, and Wyatt had been master of London last year. Now the people are fuller of discontent than ever, and these burnings and torturings, these Spaniards in the streets — England will not endure them long. The times will change. Let us go, and you will have a friend — when most you need one." He shook his head sullenly. "I dare not do it," he said. And somehow I got the idea that he was telling the truth, and that it was not the man's stubborn nature only that withstood the bribe and the plea. He spoke as if he were repeating a lesson and the master were present. When she saw that she could not move him, the anger, which I think came more naturally to her, broke out afresh. "You will not, you hound!" she cried. "Will neither threats nor promises move you?" "Neither," he answered doggedly; "I have my orders." So far, I had remained a quiet listener, standing in the mouth of the lane which opened upon the court where they were. The women had taken no notice of me ; either because they did not see me, or because, seeing me, they thought that I was a hanger-on of the man before them. And he, having his back to me, and his eyes on them, could not see me. It was a surprise to him — a very great surprise, I think — when I took three steps forward, and gripped him by the scruff of his neck. MISTRESS BERTRAM. S3 "You have your orders, have you?" I muttered in his ear, as I shook him to and fro, while the taller woman started back and the younger uttered a cry of alarm at my sudden appearance. "Well, you will not obey them. Do you hear? Your employer may go hang! You will do just what these ladies please to ask of you." He struggled an instant ; but he was an undersized man, and he could not loosen the hold which I had secured at my leisure. Then I noticed his hand going to his girdle in a suspicious way. "Stop that!" I said, flashing before his eyes a short, broad blade, which had cut many a deer's throat in Old Arden Forest. "You had better keep quiet, or it will be the worse for you! Now, mistress," I con- tinued, "you can dispose of this little man as you please." "Who are you?" she said, after a pause; during which she had stared at me in open astonishment. No doubt I was a wild-looking figure. "A friend," I replied. "Or one who would be such. I saw this fellow follow you, and I followed him. For the last five minutes I have been listening to your talk. He was not amenable to reason then, but I think he will be now. What shall I do with him?" She smiled faintly, but did not answer at once, the cool- ness and resolution with which she had faced him before failing her nov/, possibly in sheer astonishment, or because my appearance at her side, by removing the strain, sapped the strength. "I do not know," she said at length, in a vague, puzzled tone. "Well," I answered, "you are going to the Lion Wharf, and " "Oh, you fool!" she screamed out loud. "Oh, you fool!" she repeated bitterly. "Now you have told him all." I stood confounded. My cheeks burned with shame, and her look of contempt cut me like a knife. That the reproach was deserved I knew at once, for the man in my grasp gave a start, which proved that the information was not lost upon him. "Who told you?" the woman went on, clutching the child jealously to her breast, as though she saw herself menaced afresh. "Who told you about the Lion Wharf?" "Never mind," I answered gloomily. "I have made a 54 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. mistake, but it is easy to remedy it." And I took out my knife again. "Do you go on and leave us." I hardly know whether I meant my threat or no. But my prisoner had no doubts. He shrieked out — a wild cry of fear which rang round the empty court — and by a rapid blow, despair giving him courage, he dashed the hunting- knife from my hand. This done he first flung himself on me, then tried by a sudden jerk to free himself. In a mo- ment we were down on the stones, and tumbling over one another in the dirt, while he struggled to reach his knife, which was still in his girdle, and I strove to prevent him. The fight was sharp, but it lasted barely a minute. When the first effort of his despair was spent, I came uppermost, and he was but a child in my hands. Presently, with my knee on his chest, I looked up. The women were still there, the younger clinging to the other. "Go! go!" I cried impatiently. Each second I ex- pected the court to be invaded, for the man had screamed more than once. But they hesitated. I had been forced to hurt him a little, and he was moaning piteously. "Who are you?" the elder woman asked — she who had spoken all through. "Nay, never mind that!" I answered. "Do you go! Go, while you can. You know the way to the WHiarf. " "Yes," she answered. "But I cannot go and leave him at your mercy. Remember he is a man, and has " "He is a treacherous scoundrel," I answered, giving his throat a squeeze. "But he shall have one more chance. Listen, sirrah!" I continued to the man, "and stop that noise or I will knock out your teeth with my dagger-hilt. Listen and be silent. I shall go with these ladies, and I promise you this : If they are stopped or hindered on their way, or if evil happen to them at that wharf, whose name you had better forget, it will be the worse for you. Do you hear? You will suffer for it, though there be a dozen guards about you! Mind you," I added, "I have nothing to lose myself, for I am desperate already." He vowed — the poor craven — with his stuttering tongue, that he would be true, and vowed it again and again. But I saw that his eyes did not meet mine. They glanced instead at the knife-blade, and I knew, even while I pre- tended to trust him, that he would betray us. My real hope MISTRESS BERTRAM. 55 lay in his fears, and in this, that as the fugitives knew the way to the wharf, and it could not now be far distant, we might reach it, and go on board some vessel — I had gath- ered they were flying the country — before this wretch could recover himself and get together a force to stop us. That was my real hope, and in that hope only I left him. We went as fast as the women could walk. I did not trouble them with questions ; indeed, I had myself no more leisure than enabled me to notice their general appearance, which was that of comfortable tradesmen's womenfolk. Their cloaks and hoods were plainly fashioned, and of coarse stuff, their shoes were thick, and no jewel or scrap of lace, peeping out, betrayed them. Yet there was some- thing in their carriage which could not be hidden, some- thing which, to my eye, told tales ; so that minute by min- ute I became more sure that this was really an adventure worth pursuing, and that London had kept a reward in store for me besides its cold stones and inhospitable streets. The city was beginning to rouse itself. As we flitted through the lanes and alleys which lie between Cheapside and the river, we met many people, chiefly of the lower classes, on their way to work. Yet in spite of this, we had no need to fear observation, for, though the morning was fully come, with the light had arrived such a thick, choking, yellow fog as I, being for the most part country-bred, had never experienced. It was so dense and blinding that we had a difficulty in keeping together, and even hand in hand could scarcely see one another. In my wonder how my companions found their way, I presently failed to notice their condition, and only remarked the distress and ex- haustion which one of them was suffering, when she began, notwithstanding all her efforts, to lag behind. Then 1 sprang forward, blaming myself much. "Forgive me," I said. "You are tired, and no wonder. Let me carry the child, mistress." Exhausted as she was, she drew away from me jealously. "No," she panted. "We are nearly there. I am better now." And she strained the child closer to her, as though she feared I might take it from her by force. "Well, if you will not trust me," I answered, "let your friend carry it for a time. I can see you are tired out." Through the mist she bent forward, and peered into my 5^ THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDR. face, her eyes scarcely a foot from mine. The scrutiny seemed to satisfy her. She drew a long breath and held out her burden. "No," she said ; "you shall take him. I will trust you." I took the little wrapped-up thing as gently as I could. "You shall not repent it, if I can help it, Mistress " "Bertram," she said. "Mistress Bertram," I repeated. "Now let us get on and lose no time." A walk of a hundred yards or so brought us clear of the houses, and revealed before us, in place of all else, a yellow curtain of fog. Below this, at our feet, yet apparently a long way from us, was a strange, pale line of shimmering light, which they told me was the water. At first I could hardly believe this. But, pausing a moment while my com- panions whispered together, dull creakings and groanings and uncouth shouts and cries, and at last the regular beat of oars, came to my ears out of the bank of vapor, and con- vinced me that we really had the river before us. Mistress Bertram turned to me abruptly. "Listen," she said, "and decide for yourself, my friend. We are close to the wharf now, and in a few minutes shall know our fate. It is possible that we may be intercepted at this point, and if that happen, it will be bad for me and worse for any one aiding me. You have done us gallant service, but you are young; and I am loath to drag you into perils which do not belong to you. Take my advice, then, and leave us now. I would I could reward you," she added hastily, "but that knave has my purse." I put the child gently back into her arms. "Good-by," she said, with more feeling. "We thank you. Some day I may return to England, and have ample power " "Not so fast," I answered stiffly. "Did you think it possible, mistress, that I would desert you now? I gave you back the child only because it might hamper me, and will be safer with you. Come, let us on at once to the wharf." "You mean it?" she said. "Of a certainty!" I answered, settling my cap on my head with perhaps a boyish touch of the brnggart. At any rate, she did not take me at once at my word; and her thought for me touched me the more because I MISTRESS BERTRAM. 57 judged her — I know not exactly why — to be a woman not over prone to think of others. "Do not be reckless," she said slowly, her eyes intently fixed on mine. "I should be sorry to bring evil upon you. You are but a boy." "And yet," I answered, smiling, "there is as good as a price upon my head already. I should be reckless if I stayed here. If you will take me with you, let us go. We have loitered too long already." She turned then, asking no questions; but she looked at me from time to time in a puzzled way, as though she thought she ought to know me — as though I reminded her of someone. Paying little heed to this then, I hurried her and her companion down to the water, traversing a stretch of foreshore strewn with piles of wood and stacks of barrels and old rotting boats, between which the mud lay deep. Fortunately it was high tide, and so ^ve had not far to go. In a minute or two I distinguished the hull of a ship loom- ing large through the fog ; and a few more steps placed us safely on a floating raft, on the far side of which the vessel lay moored. There was only one man to be seen lounging on the raft, and the neighborhood was quiet. My spirits rose as I looked round. "Is this the WhelpV the tall lady asked. I had not heard the other open her mouth since the en- counter in the court. "Yes, it is the Whelps madam," the man answered, saluting her and speaking formally, and with a foreign accent. "You are the lady who is expected?" "I am," she answered, with authority. "Will you tell the captain that I desire to sail immediately, without a mo- ent's delay? Do you understand?" "Well, the tide is going out," quoth the sailor, dubi- ously, looking steadily into the fog, which hid the river. "It has just turned, it is true. But as to sailing " She cut him short. "Go, go! man. Tell your captain what I say. And let down a ladder for us to get on board. " He caught a rope which hung over the side, and, swing- ing himself up, disappeared. We stood below, listening to the weird sounds which came off the water, the creaking and flapping of masts and canvas, the whir of wings and shrieks of unseen gulls, the distant hail of boatmen. A bell in the city solemnly tolled eight. The younger woman 58 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. shivered. The elder's foot tapped impatiently on the planks. Shut in by the yellow walls of fog, I experienced a strange sense of solitude ; it was as if we three were alone in the world — we three who had come together so strangely. CHAPTER VI. MASTERCLARENCE. WE had stood thus for a few moments when a harsh voice, hailing us from above,put an end to our several thoughts and forebodings. We looked up and I saw half a dozen night-capped heads thrust over the bulwarks. A rope ladder came hurtling down at our feet, and a man, nimbly descending, held it tight at the bottom. "Now, madame!" he said briskly. They all, I noticed, had the same foreign accent, yet all spoke English; a singularity I did not understand, until I learned later that the boat was the Lion's Whelps trading between London and Calais, and manned from the latter place. Mistress Bertram ascended quickly and steadily, holding the baby in her arms. The other made some demur, lin- gering at the foot of the ladder and looking up as if afraid, until her companion chid her sharply. Then she too went up, but as she passed me — I was holding one side of the ladder steady — she shot at me from under her hood a look which disturbed me strangely. It was the first time I had seen her face, and it was such a face as a man rarely forgets. Not because of its beauty ; rather because it was a speaking face, a strange and expres- sive one, which the dark waving hair, swelling in thick clus- ters upon either temple, seemed to accentuate. The features were regular, but, the full red lips excepted, rather thin than shapely. The nose, too, was prominent. But the eyes! The eyes seemed to glorify the dark brilliant thinness of the face, and to print it upon the memory. They were dark flashing eyes, and their smile seemed to me perpetually to challenge, to allure and repulse, and even to goad. Sometimes they were gay, more rarely sad, sometimes soft, and again hard as steel. They changed in a moment as one or another approached her. But always at their gay- 6o THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. est, there was a suspicion of weariness and fatigue in their depths. Or so I thought later. Something of this flashed through my mind as I followed heir up the side. But once on bo'ard I glanced round, for- getting her in the novelty of my position. The Whelp was decked fore and aft only, the blackness of the hold gaping amidships, spanned by a narrow gangway, which served to connect the two decks. We found ourselves in the fore- part, amid coils of rope and windlasses and water-casks; surrounded by half a dozen wild-looking sailors wearing blue knitted frocks and carrying sheath-knives at their girdles. The foremost and biggest of these seemed to be the cap- tain, although, so far as outward appearances went, the only difference between him and his crew lay in a marlin- spike which he wore slung to a thong beside his knife. When I reached the deck he was telling a long story to Mistress Bertram, and telling it very slowly. But -the drift of it I soon gathered. While the fog lasted he could not put to sea. "Nonsense!" cried my masterful companion, chafing at his slowness of speech. "Why not? Would it be dan- gerous?" "Well, madam, it would be dangerous," he answered, more slowly than ever. "Yes, it would be dangerous. And to put to sea in a fog? That is not seamanship. And your baggage has not arrived." "Never mind my baggage!" she answered imperiously. "I have made other arrangements for it. Two or three things I know came on board last night. I want to start — to start at once, do you hear?" The captain shook his head, and said sluggishly that it was impossible. Spitting on the deck he ground his heel leisurely round in a knothole. "Impossible," he repeated; "it would not be seamanship to start in a fog. When the fog lifts we will go. 'Twill be all the same to-morrow. We shall lie at Leigh to-night, whether we go now or go when the fog lifts." "At Leigh?" "That is it, madam." "And when will you go from Leigh?" she cried indig- nantly. MASTER CLARENCE. 6i •'Daybreak to-morrow," he answered. "You leave it to me, mistress," he continued, in a tone of rough patronage, "and you will see your good man before you expect it," "But, man!" she exclaimed, trembling with impotent rage. "Did not Master Bertram engage you to bring me across whenever I might be ready? Ay, and pay you handsomely for it? Did he not, sirrah?" "To be sure, to be sure!" replied the giant unmoved. "Using seamanship, and not going to sea in a fog, if it please you." "It does not please me!" she retorted. "And why stay at Leigh?" He looked up at the rigging, then down at the deck. He set his heel in the knothole, and ground it round again. Then he looked at his questioner with a broad smile. "Well, mistress, for a very good reason. It is there your good man is waiting for you. Only," added this careful keeper of a secret, "he bade me not tell any one." She uttered a low cry, which might have been an echo of her baby's cooing, and convulsively clasped the child more tightly to her. "He is at Leigh!" she murmured, flushing and trembling, another woman ^Jtogether. Even her voice was wonderfully changed. "He is really at Leigh, you say?" "To be sure!" replied the captain, with a portentous wink and a mysterious roll of the head. "He is there safe enough! Safe enough, you may bet your handsome face to a rushlight. And we will be there to-night." She started up with a wild gesture. For a moment she had sat down on a cask standing beside her, and forgotten our peril, and the probability that we might never see Leigh at all. Now, I have said, she started up. "No, no!" she cried, struggling for breath and utterance. "Oh, no! no! Let us go at once. We must start at once!" Her voice was hysterical in its sudden anxiety and terror, as the con- sciousness of our position rolled back upon her. "Cap- tain! listen, listen!" she pleaded. "Let us start now, and my husband will give you double. I will promise you double whatever he said if you will chance the fog." I think all who heard her were moved, save the captain only. He rubbed his head and grinned. Slow and heavy, he saw nothing in her prayer save the freak of a woman 62 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. wild to get to her man. He did not weigh her promise at a groat; she was but a woman. And being a foreigner, he did not perceive a certain air of breeding which might have influenced a native. He was one of those men against whose stupidity Father Carey used to say the gods fight in vain. When he answered good-naturedly, "No, no, mis- tress, it is impossible. It would not be seamanship," I felt that we might as well try to stop the ebbing tide as move him from his position. The feeling was a maddening one. The special peril which menaced my companions I did not know ; but I knew they feared pursuit, and I had every reason to fear it for myself. Yet at any moment, out of the fog which encircled us so closely that we could barely see the raft below — and the shore not at all — might come the tramp of hurrying feet and the stern hail of the law. It was maddening to think of this, and to know that we had only to cast off a rope or two in order to escape; and to know also that we were absolutely helpless. I expected that Mistress Bertram, brave as she had shown herself, would burst into a passion of rage or tears. But apparently she had one hope left. She looked at me. I tried to think — to think hard. Alas, I seemed only able to listen. An hour had gone by since we parted from that rascal in the court, and we might expect him to appear at any moment, vengeful and exultant, with a posse at his back. Yet I tried hard to think; and the fog presently sug- gested a possible course. "Look here," I said suddenly, speaking for the first time, " if you do not start until the fog lifts, captain, we may as well breakfast ashore, and return presently." "That is as you please," he answered indifferently. "What do you think?" I said, turning to my companions with as much carelessness as I could command. "Had we not better do that?" Mistress Bertram did not understand, but in her despair she obeyed the motion of my hand mechanically, and walked to the side. The younger woman followed more slowly, so that I had to speak to her with some curtness, bidding her make haste; for I was in a fever until we were clear of the Whelp and the Lion Wharf. It had struck me that, if the ship were not to leave at once, we were nowhere in so much MASTER CLARENCE, d^ danger as on board. At large in the fog we might escape detection for a time. Our pursuers might as well look for a needle in a haystack as seek us through it when once we were clear of the wharf. And this was not the end of my idea. But for the present it was enough. Therefore I took up Mistress Anne very short. "Come!" I said, "be quick! Let me help you." She obeyed, and I was ashamed of my impatience when at the foot of the ladder she thanked me prettily. It was almost with good cheer in my voice and a rebound of spirits that I explained, as I hurried my companions across the raft, what my plan was. The moment we were ashore I felt safer. The fog swal- lowed us up quick, as the Bible says. The very hull of the ship vanished from sight before we had gone half a dozen paces. I had never seen a London fog before, and to me it seemed portentous and providential; a marvel as great as the crimson hail which fell in the London gardens to mark her Majesty's accession. Yet after all, without my happy thought, the fog would have availed us little. We had scarcely gone a score of yards before the cautious tread of several people hastening down the strand toward the wharf struck my ear. They were proceeding in silence, and we might not have noticed their approach if the foremost had not by chance tripped and fallen; whereupon one laughed and another swore. With a warning hand I grasped my companions' arms, and hurried them forward some paces until I felt sure that our figures could not be seen through the mist. Then I halted, and we stood listening, gazing into one another's strained eyes, while the steps came nearer and nearer, crossed our track and then with a noisy rush thundered on the wooden raft. My ear caught the jingle of harness and the clank of weapons. "It is the watch," I muttered. "Come, and make no noise. What I want is a little this way. I fancy I saw it as we passed down to the wharf." They turned with me, but we had not taken many steps before Mistress Anne, who was walking on my left side, stumbled over something. She tried to save herself, but failed and fell heavily, uttering as she did so a loud cry. I sprang to her assistance, and even before I raised her I laid 64 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. my hand lightly on her mouth. "Hush!" I said softly, "for safety's sake, make no noise. What is the mat- ter ? * ' * 'Oh ! ' ' she moaned, making no effort to rise, * 'my ankle ! my ankle! I am sure I have broken it." I muttered my dismay, while Mistress Bertram, stooping anxiously, examined the injured limb. "Can you stand?" she asked. But it was no time for questioning, and I put her aside. The troop which had passed were within easy hearing, and if there should be one among them familiar with the girl's voice, we might be pounced upon, fog or no fog, I felt that it was no time for ceremony, and picked Mistress Anne up in my arms, whispering to the elder woman: "Go on ahead! I think I see the boat. It is straight before you." Luckily I was right, it was the boat; and so far well. But at the moment I spoke I heard a sudden outcry behind us, and knew the hunt was up. I plunged forward with my burden, recklessly and blindly, through mud and over ob- stacles. The wherry for which I was making was moored in the water a few feet from the edge. I had remarked it idly and without purpose as we came down to the wharf, and had even noticed that the oars were lying in it. Now, if we could reach it and start down the river for Leigh, we might by possibility gain that place, and meet Mistress Ber- tram's husband. At any rate, nothing in the world seemed so desirable to me at the moment as the shelter of that boat. I plunged through the mud, and waded desperately through the water to it. Mistress Bertram scarce a whit behind me. I reached it, but reached it only as the foremost pursuer caught sighi of us. I heard his shout of triumph, and somehow I bundled my burden into the boat — I remember that she clung about my neck in fear, and I had to loosen her hands roughly. But I did loosen them — in time. With one stroke of my hunting-knife, I severed the rope, and pushing off the boat with all my strength, sprang into it as it floated away — and was in time. But one second's delay would have undone us. Two men were already in the water up to their knees, and their very breath was hot on my face as we swung out into the stream. Fortunately, I had had experience of boats on the Avon, MASTER CLARENCE, 65 at Bidford and Stratford, and could pull a good oar. For a moment indeed the wherry rolled and dipped as I snatched up the sculls ; but I quickly got her in hand, and, bending to my work, sent her spinning through the mist, every stroke I pulled increasing the distance between us and our now unseen foes. Happily we were below London Bridge, and had not that dangerous passage to make. The river, too, was nearly clear of craft, and though once and again in the Pool a huge hulk loomed suddenly across our bows, and then faded behind us into the mist like some monstrous phantom, and so told of a danger narrowly escaped, I thought it best to run all risks, and go ahead as long as the tide should ebb. It was strange how suddenly we had passed from storm into calm. Mistress Anne had bound her ankle with a handkerchief, and bravely made light of the hurt ; and now the two women sat crouching in the stern watching me, their heads together, their faces pale. The mist had closed round us, and we were alone again, gliding over the bosom of the great river that runs down to the sea. I was oddly struck by the strange current of life which for a week had tossed me from one adventure to another, only to bring me into contact at length with these two, and sweep me into the unknown whirlpool of their fortunes. Who were they? A merchant's wife and her sister flying from Bishop Bonner's inquisition? I thought it likely. Their cloaks and hoods indeed, and all that I could see of their clothes, fell below such a condition ; but probably they were worn as a disguise. Their speech rose as much above it, but I knew that of late many merchant's wives had j3ecome scholars, and might pass in noblemen's houses; even as in those days when London waxed fat, and set up and threw down governments, every alderman had come to ride in mail. No doubt the women, watching me in anxious silence, were as curious about me. I still bore the stains of country travel. I was unwashen, unkempt, my doublet was torn, the cloak I had cast at my feet was the very wreck of a cloak. Yet I read no distrust in their looks. The elder's brave eyes seemed ever thanking me. I never saw her lips move silently that they did not shape "Well done!" And though I caught Mistress Anne scanning me once or twice 66 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. with an expression I could ill interpret, a smile took its place the moment her gaze met mine. We had passed, but were still in sight of, Greenwich Palace — as they told me — when the mist rose suddenly like a curtain rolled away, and the cold, bright February sun, shining out, disclosed the sparkling river with the green hills rising on our right hand. Here and there on its sur- face a small boat such as our own moved to and fro, and in the distant Pool from which we had come rose a little forest of masts. I hung on the oars a moment, and my eyes were drawn to a two-masted vessel which, nearly half a mile below us, was drifting down, gently heeling over with the current as the crew got up the sails. "I wonder whither she is bound," I said thoughtfully, "and whether they would take us on board by any chance." Mistress Bertram shook her head. "I have no money," she answered sadly. "I fear we must go on to Leigh, if it be any way possible. You are tired, and no wonder. But what is it?" with a sudden change of voice. "What is the matter?" I had flashed out the oars with a single touch, and begun to pull as fast as I could down the stream. No doubt my face, too, proclaimed my discovery and awoke her fears. "Look behind!" I muttered between my set teeth. She turned, and on the instant uttered a low cry. A wherry like our own, but even lighter — in my first glance up the river I had not noticed it — had stolen nearer to us, and yet nearer, and now throwing aside disguise was in hot pur- suit of us. There were three men on board, two rowing and one steering. When they saw that we had discovered them they hailed us in a loud voice, and I heard the steersman's feet rattle on the boards, as he cried to his men to give way, and stamped in very eagerness. My only reply was to take a longer stroke, and, pulling hard, to sweep away from them. But presently my first strength died away, and the work began to tell upon me, and little by little they overhauled us. Not that I gave up at once for that. They were still some sixty yards behind, and for a few minutes at any rate I might put off capture. In that time something might happen. At the worst they were only three to one, and their boat looked light and cranky and easy to upset. So I pulled on, savagely straining at the oars. But my MASTER CLARENCE. 67 chest heaved and my arms ached more and more with each stroke. The banks slid by us ; we turned one bend, then another, though I saw nothing of them. I saw only the pursuing boat, on which my eyes were fixed, heard only the measured rattle of the oars in the rowlocks. A minute, two minutes, three minutes passed. They had not gained on us, but the water was beginning to waver before my eyes, their boat seemed floating in the air, there was a pulsation in my ears louder than that of the oars, I struggled and yet I flagged. My knees trembled. Their boat shot nearer now, nearer and nearer, so that I could read the smile of triumph on the steersman's dark face and hear his cry of exultation. Nearer! and then with a cry I dropped the oars. "Quick ! " I panted to my companions. * 'Change places with me! So!" Trembling and out of breath as I was, I crawled between the women and gained the stern sheets of the boat. As I passed Mistress Bertram she clutched my arm. Her eyes, as they met mine, flashed fire, her lips were white. "The man steering!" she hissed between her teeth. "Leave the others. He is Clarence, and I fear him!" I nodded; but still, as the hostile boat bore swiftly down upon us, I cast a glance round to see if there were any help at hand. I saw no sign of any. I saw only the pale blue sky overhead, and the stream flowing swiftly under the boat. I drew my sword. The case was one rather for despair than courage. The women were in my charge, and if I did not acquit myself like a man now, when should I do so? Bah! it would soon be over. There was an instant's confusion in the other boat, as the crew ceased rowing, and, seeing my attitude and not liking it, changed their seats. To my joy the man, who had hith- erto been steering, flung a curse at the others and came for- ward to bear the brunt of the encounter. He was a tall, sinewy man, past middle age, with a clean-shaven face, a dark complexion, and cruel eyes. So he was Master Clar- ence ! Well, he had the air of a swordsman and a soldier. I trembled for the women. "Surrender, you fool!" he cried to me harshly. "In the Queen's- name — do you hear? What do you in this company?" I answered nothing, for I was out of breath. But softly, 68 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. my eyes on his, I drew out with my left hand my hunting- knife. If I could beat aside his sword, I would spring upon him and drive the knife home with that hand. So, standing erect in bow and stern we faced one another, the man and the boy, the flush of rage and exertion on my cheek, a dark shade on his. And silently the boats drew together. Thought is quick, quicker than anything else in the world I suppose, for in some drawn-out second before the boats came together I had time to wonder where I had seen his face before, and to rack my memory. I knew no Master Clarence, yet I had seen this man somewhere. Another second, and away with thought ! He was crouching for a spring. I drew back a little, then lunged — lunged with heart and hand. Our swords crossed and whistled — just crossed — and even as I saw his eyes gleam behind his point, the shock of the two boats coming together flung us both backward and apart. A moment we reeled, staggering and throwing out wild hands. I strove hard to recover myself, nay, I almost did so; then I caught my foot in Mistress Anne's cloak, which she had left in her place, and fell heavily back into the boat. I was up in a moment — on my knees at least — and unhurt. But another was before me. As I stooped half-risen, I saw one moment a dark shadow above me, and the next a sheet of flame shone before my eyes, and a tremendous shock swept all away. I fell senseless into the bottom of the boat, knowing nothing of what had happened to me. CHAPTER VII. ON BOARD THE **FRAMLINGHAM. " 1AM told by people who have been seasick that the sound of the waves beating against the hull comes in time to be an intolerable torment. But bad as this may be, it can be nothing in comparison with the pains I suffered from the same cause, as I recovered my senses. My brain seemed to be a cavern into which each moment, with a rhythmical regularity which added the pangs of anticipation to those of reality, the sea rushed, booming and thundering, jarring every nerve and straining the walls to bursting, and making each moment of consciousness a vivid agony. And this lasted long; how long I cannot say. But it had sub- sided somewhat when I first opened my eyes, and dully, not daring to move my head, looked up. I was lying on my back. About a foot from my eyes were rough beams of wood disclosed by a smoky yellow light, which flickered on the knotholes and rude joists. The light swayed to and fro regularly; and this adding to my pain, I closed my eyes with a moan. Then some one came to me, and I heard voices which sounded a long way off, and promptly fell again into a deep sleep, troubled still, but less painfully, by the same rhythmical shocks, the same dull crashings in my brain. When I awoke again I had sense to know what caused this, and where I was — in a berth on board ship. The noise which had so troubled me was that of the waves beat- ing against her forefoot. The beams so close to my face formed the deck, the smoky light came from the ship's lan- tern swinging on a hook. I tried to turn. Some one came again, and with gentle hands arranged my pillow and pres- ently began to feed me with a spoon. When I had swal- lowed a few mouthfuls I gained strength to turn. Who was this feedinp^ me? The light was at her back 70 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. and dazzled me. For a short while I took her for Petro- nilla, my thoughts going back at one bound to Coton, and skipping all that had happened since I left home. But as I grew stronger I grew clearer, and recalling bit by bit what had happened in the boat, I recognized Mistress Anne. I tried to murmur thanks, but she laid a cool finger on my lips and shook her head, smiling on me. "You must not talk," she murmured, "you are getting well. Now go to sleep again." I shut my eyes at once as a child might. Another interval of unconsciousness, painless this time, followed, and again I awoke, I was lying on my side now, and without moving could see the whole of the tiny cabin. The lantern still hung and smoked. But the light was steady now, and I heard no splashing without, nor the dull groaning and creak- ing of the timbers within. There reigned a quiet which seemed bliss to me ; and I lay wrapped in it, my thoughts growing clearer and clearer each moment. On a sea-chest at the farther end of the cabin were sitting two people engaged in talk. The one, a woman, I recog- nized immediately. The gray eyes full of command, the handsome features, the reddish-brown hair and gracious figure left me in no doubt, even for a moment, that I looked on Mistress Bertram. The sharer of her seat was a tall, thin man with a thoughtful face and dreamy, rather melan- choly eyes. One of her hands rested on his knee, and her lips as she talked were close to his ear. A little aside, sit- ting on the lowest step of the ladder which led to the deck, her head leaning against the timbers, and a cloak about her, was Mistress Anne. I tried to speak, and after more than one effort found my voice. "Where am I?" I whispered. My head ached sadly, and I fancied, though I was too languid to raise my hand to it, that it was bandaged. My mind was so far clear that I remembered Master Clarence and his pursuit and the fight in the boats, and knew that we ought to be on our way to prison. Who, then, was the mild, comely gentle- man whose length of limb made the cabin seem smaller than it was? Not a jailer, surely? Yet who else? I could compass no more than a whisper, but faint as my voice was they all heard me, and looked up. "Anne!" the elder lady cried sharply, seeming by her tone to direct the ON- BOARD THE '' FRAMLINGHAMr 71 Other to attend to me. Yet was she herself the first to rise, and come and lay her hand on my brow. "Ah! the fever is gone!" she said, speaking apparently to the gentleman, who kept his seat. "His head is quite cool. He will do well now, I am sure. Do you know me?" she continued, leaning over me. I looked up into her eyes, and read only kindness. "Yes," I muttered. But the effort of looking was so pain- ful that I closed my eyes again with a sigh. Nevertheless, my memory of the events which had gone before my illness grew clearer, and I fumbled feebly for something which should have been at my side. "Where is — where is my sword?" I made shift to whisper. She laughed. "Show it to him, Anne," she said; "what a never-die it is! There, Master Knight Errant, we did not forget to bring it off the field, you see!" "But how," I murmured, "how did you escape ? " T saw that there was no question of a prison. Her laugh was gay, her voice full of content. "That is a long story," she answered kindly. "Are you well enough to hear it? You think you are? Then take some of this first. You remember that knave Philip strik- ing you on the head with an oar as you got up? No? Well, it was a cowardly stroke, but it stood him in little stead, for we had drifted, in the excitement of the race, under the stern of the ship which you remember seeing a little before. There were English seamen on her; and when they saw three men in the act of boarding two de- fenseless women, they stepped in, and threatened to send Clarence and his crew to the bottom unless they sheered off." "Ha!" I murmured. "Good!" "And so we escaped. I prayed the captain to take us on board his ship, the Framlingham, and he did so. More, putting into Leigh on his way to the Nore, he took off my husband. There he stands, and when you are better he shall thank you." "Nay, he will thank you now," said the tall man, rising and stepping to my berth with his head bent. He could not stand upright, so low was the deck. "But for you," he continued, his earnestness showing in his voice and eyes — the latter were almost too tender for a man's — "my wife 72 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. would be now lying in prison, her life in jeopardy, and her property as good as gone. She has told me how bravely you rescued her from that cur in Cheapside, and how your presence of mind baffled the watch at the riverside. It is well, young gentleman. It is very well. But these things call for other returns than words. When it lies in her power my wife will make them ; if not to-day, to-morrow, and if not to-morrow, the day after." I was very weak, and his words brought the tears to my eyes. "She has saved my life already," I murmured. "You foolish boy!" she cried, smiling down on me, her hand on her husband's shoulder. "You got your head broken in my defense. It was a great thing, was it not, that I did not leave you to die in the boat? There, make haste and get well. You have talked enough now. Go to sleep, or we shall have the fever back again." "One thing first," I pleaded. "Tell me whither we are going." "In a few hours we shall be at Dort in Holland," she answered. "But be content. We will take care of you, and send you back if you will, or you shall still come with us; as you please. Be content. Go to sleep now and get strong. Presently, perhaps, we shall have need of your help again." They went and sat down then on their former seat and talked in whispers, while Mistress Anne shook up my pil- lows, and laid a fresh cool bandage on my head. I vvas too weak to speak my gratitude, but I tried to look it and so fell asleep again, her hand in mine, and the wondrous smile of those lustrous eyes the last impression of which I was conscious. A long dreamless sleep followed. When I awoke once more the light still hung steady, but the peacefulness of night was gone. We lay in the midst of turmoil. The scampering of feet over the deck above me, the creaking of the windlass, the bumping and clattering of barrels hoisted in or hoisted out, the harsh sound of voices raised in a foreign tongue and in queer keys, sufficed as I grew wide- awake to tell me we were in port. But the cabin was empty, and I lay for some time gazing at its dreary interior, and wondering what was to become of me. Presently an uneasy fear crept into my mind. What ON BOARD THE '' FRAMLINGHAM." 73 if my companions had deserted me? Alone, ill, and pen- niless in a foreign land, what should I do? This fear in my sick state was so terrible that 1 struggled to get up, and with reeling brain and nerveless hands did get out of my berth. But this feat accomplished I found that I could not stand. Everything swam before my eyes. I could not take a single step, but remained, clinging helplessly to the edge of my berth, despair at my heart. I tried to call out, but my voice rose little above a whisper, and the banging and shrieking, the babel without went on endlessly. Oh, it was cruel! cruel! They had left me! I think my senses were leaving me too, when I felt an arm about my waist, and found Mistress Anne by my side guiding me to the chest. I sat down on it, the certainty of my helplessness and the sudden relief of her presence bring- ing the tears to my eyes. She fanned me, and gave me some restorative, chiding me the while for getting out of my berth. "I thought that you had gone and left me," I muttered. I was as weak as a child. She said cheerily: "Did you leave us when we were in trouble? Of course you did not. There, take some more of this. After all, it is well you are up, for in a short time we must move you to the other boat." "The other boat?" "Yes, we are at Dort, you know. And we are going by the Waal, a branch of the Rhine, to Arnheim. But the boat is here, close to this one, and, with help, I think you will be able to walk to it." "I am sure I shall if you will give me your arm," I answered gratefully. "But you will not think again," she replied, "that we have deserted you?" "No," I said. "I will trust you always." I wondered why a shadow crossed her face at that. But I had no time to do more than wonder, for Master Bertram, coming down, brought our sitting to an end. She bustled about to wrap me up, and somehow, partly walking, partly carried, I was got on deck. There I sat down on a bale to recover myself, and felt at once much the better for the fresh, keen air, the clear sky and wintry sunshine which welcomed me to a foreign land. On the outer side of the vessel stretched a wide expanse 74 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. of turbid water, five or six times as wide as the Thames at London, and foam-flecked here and there by the up-running tide. On the other side was a wide and spacious quay, paved neatly with round stones, and piled here and there with merchandise; but possessing, by virtue of the lines of leafless elms which bordered it, a quaint air of rusticity in the midst of bustle. The sober bearing of the sturdy lands- men, going quietly about their business, accorded well with the substantial comfort of the rows of tall, steep-roofed houses I saw beyond the quay, and seemed only made more homely by the occasional swagger and uncouth cry of some half-barbarous seaman, wandering aimlessly about. Above the town rose the heavy square tower of a church, a notable landmark where all around, land and water, lay so low, where the horizon seemed so far, and the sky so wide and breezy. "So you have made up your mind to come with us," said Master Bertram, returning to my side — he had left me to make some arrangements. "You understand that if you would prefer to go home I can secure your tendance here by good, kindly people, and provide for your passage back when you feel strong enough to cross. You understand that? And that the choice is entirely your own? So which will you do?" I changed color and felt I did. I shrunk, as being well and strong I should not have shrunk, from losing sight of those three faces which I had known for so short a time, yet which alone stood between myself and loneliness. "I would rather come with you," I stammered. "But I shall be a great burden to you now, I fear." "It is not that," he replied, with hearty assurance in his voice. "A week's rest and quiet will restore you to strength, and then the burden will be on the other shoulder. It is for your own sake I give you the choice, because our future is for the time uncertain. Very uncertain," he re- j)eated, his brow clouding over; "and to become our com- panion may expose you to fresh dangers. We are refugees from England ; that you probably guess. Our plan was to go to France, where are many of our friends, and where we could live safely until better times. You know how that plan was frustrated. Here the Spaniards are masters — Prince Philip's people; and if we are recognized, we shall ON BOARD THE " FRAMLINGHAM:' 75 be arrested and sent back to England. Still, my wife and I must make the best of it. The hue and cry will not follow us for some days, and there is still a degree of independence in the cities of Holland which may, since I have friends here, protect us for a time. Now you know something of our position, my friend. You can make your choice with your eyes open. Either way we shall not forget you." "I will go on with you, if you please," I answered at once. "I, too, cannot go home." And as I said this, Mistress Bertram also came up, and I took her hand in mine — which looked, by the way, so strangely thin I scarcely recognized it — and kissed it. "I will come with you, madam, if you will let me," I said. "Good!" she replied, her eyes sparkling. "I said you would ! I do not mind telling you now that I am glad of it. And if ever we return to England, as God grant we may and soon, you shall not regret your decision. Shall he, Richard?" "If you say he shall not, my dear," he responded, smil- ing at her enthusiasm, "I think I may answer for it he will not." I was struck then, as I had been before, by a certain air of deference which the husband assumed toward the wife. It did not surprise me, for her bearing and manner, as well as such of her actions as I had seen, stamped her as singu- larly self-reliant and independent for a woman ; and to these qualities, as much as to the rather dreamy character of the husband, I was content to set down the peculiarity. I should add that a rare and pretty tenderness constantly displayed on her part toward him robbed it of any semblance of unseemliness. They saw that the exertion of talking exhausted me, and so, with an encouraging nod, left me to myself. A few minutes later a couple of English sailors, belonging to the Framlingham, came up, and with gentle strength transported me, under Mistress Anne's directions, to a queer-looking wide-beamed boat which lay almost alongside. She was more like a huge Thames barge than anything else, for she drew little water, but had a great expanse of sail when all was set. There was a large deck-house, gay with paint and as clean as it could be ; and in a compartment at one end 76 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. of this — which seemed to be assigned to our party — I was soon comfortably settled. Exhausted as I was by the excitement of sitting up and being moved, I knew little of what passed about me for the next two days, and remember less. I slept and ate, and sometimes awoke to wonder where I was. But the meals and the vague attempts at thought made scarcely more im- pression on my mind than the sleep. Yet all the while I was gaining strength rapidly, my youth and health standing me in good stead. The wound in my head, which had caused great loss of blood, healed all one way, as we say in Warwickshire; and about noon, on the second day after leaving Dort, I was well enough to reach the deck unassisted, and sit in th'fe sunshine on a pile of rugs which Mistress Anne, my constant nurse, had laid for me in a corner shel- tered from the wind. • ••••• Fortunately the weather was mild and warm, and the sunshine fell brightly on the wide river and the wider plain of pasture which stretched away on either side of the hori- zon, dotted, here and there only, by a windmill, a farm- house, the steeple of a church, the brown sails of a barge, or at most broken by a low dike or a line of sand-dunes. All was open, free ; all was largeness, space, and distance. I gazed astonished. The husband and wife, who were pacing the deck for- ward, came to me. He noticed the wondering looks I cast round. "This is new to you?" he said smiling. "Quite — quite new," I answered. 'T never imagined anything so flat, and yet in its way so beautiful." "You do not know Lincolnshire?" "No." "Ah, that is my native county," he answered. "It is much like this. But you are better, and you can talk again. Now I and my wife have been discussing whether we shall tell you more about ourselves. And since there is no time like the present I may say that we have decided to trust you." "All in all or not at all," Mistress Bertram added brightly. I murmured my thanks. "Then, first to tell you who we are. For myself I am ON BOARD THE '' FRAMLINGHAMr 77 plain Richard Bertie of Lincolnshire, at your service. My wife is something more than appears from this, or" — with a smile — "from her present not too graceful dress. She is " "Stop, Richard! This is not sufficiently formal," my lady cried prettily. "I have the honor to present to you, young gentleman," she went on, laughing merrily and mak- ing a very grand courtesy before me, "Katherine, Duchess of Suffolk." I made shift to get to my feet, and bowed respectfully, but she forced me to sit down again. "Enough of that," she said lightly, "until we go back to England. Here and for the future we are Master Bertram and his wife. And this young lady, my distant kinswoman, Anne Brandon, must pass as Mistress Anne. You wonder how we came to be straying in the streets alone and unattended when you found us?" I did wonder, for the name of the gay and brilliant Duch- ess of Suffolk was well known even to me, a country lad. Her former husband, Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, had been not only the one trusted and constant friend of King Henry the Eighth, but the king's brother-in-law, his first wife having been Mary, Princess of England and Queen Dowager of France. Late in his splendid and prosperous career the Duke had married Katherine, the heiress of Lord Willoughby de Eresby, and she it was who stood before me, still young and handsome. After her husband's death she had made England ring with her name, first by a love match with a Lincolnshire squire, and secondly by her fearless and outspoken defense of the reformers. I did wonder indeed how she had come to be wandering in the streets at daybreak, an object of a chance passer's chivalry and pity. "It is simple enough," she said dryly; "I am rich, I am a Protestant, and I have an enemy. When I do not like a person I speak out. Do I not, Richard?" "You do indeed, my dear," he answered smiling. "And once I spoke out to Bishop Gardiner. What! Do you know Stephen Gardiner?" For I had started at the name, after which I could scarcely have concealed my knowledge if I would. So I answered simply, "Yes, I have seen him." I was thinking 78 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. how wonderful this was. These people had been utter strangers to me until a day or two before, yet now we were all looking out together from the deck of a Dutch boat on the low Dutch landscape, united by one tie, the enmity of the same man. "He is a man to be dreaded," the Duchess continued, her eyes resting on her baby, which lay asleep on my bundle of rugs — and I guessed what fear it was had tamed her pride to flight. "His power in England is absolute. We learned that it was his purpose to arrest me, and determined to leave England. But our very household was full of spies, and though we chose a time when Clarence, our steward, whom we had long suspected of being Gardiner's chief tool, was away, Philip, his deputy, gained a clew to our design, and watched us. We gave him the slip with difficulty, leaving our luggage, but he dogged and overtook us, and the rest you know." I bowed. As I gazed at her, my admiration, I know, shone in my eyes. She looked, as she stood on the deck, an exile and fugitive, so gay, so bright, so indomitable, that in herself she was at once a warranty and an omen of better times. The breeze had heightened her color and loosened here and there a tress of her auburn hair. No wonder Mas- ter Bertie looked proudly on his Duchess. Suddenly a thing I had clean forgotten flashed into my mind, and I thrust my hand into my pocket. The action was so abrupt that it attracted their attention, and when I pulled out a packet — two packets — there were three pairs of eyes upon me. The seal dangled from one missive. "What have you there?" the Duchess asked briskly, for she was a woman, and curious. "Do you carry the deeds of your property about with you?" "No," I said, not unwilling to make a small sensation. "This touches your Grace." "Hush!" she cried, raising one imperious finger. "Transgressing already? From this time forth I am Mis- tress Bertram, remember. But come," she went on, eying the packet with the seal inquisitively, "how does it touch me?" I put it silently into her hands, and she opened it and read a few lines, her husband peeping over her shoulder. As she read her brow darkened, her eyes grew hard. Mas- ON BOARD THE " FRAMLINGHAMr 79 ter Bertie*s face changed with hers, and they both peeped suddenly at me over the edge of the parchment, suspicion and hostility in their glances. "How came you by this, young sir?" he said slowly, after a long pause. "Have we escaped Peter to fall into the hands of Paul?" "No, no!" I cried hurriedly. I saw that I had made a greater sensation than I had bargained for. I hastened to tell them how I had met with Gardiner's servant at Stony Stratford, and how I had become possessed of his creden-' tials. They laughed of course — indeed they laughed so loudly that the placid Dutchmen, standing aft with their hands in their breeches-pockets, stared open-mouthed at us, and the kindred cattle on the bank looked mildly up from the knee-deep grass. "And what was the other packet?" the Duchess asked presently. "Is that it in your hand?" "Yes," 1 answered, holding it up with some reluc- tance. * *It seems to be a lettet addressed to Mistress Clar- ence." "Clarence!" she cried. "Clarence!" arresting the hand she was extending. "What! Here is our friend again then. What is in it? You have opened it?" "No." "You have not? Then quick, open it!" she exclaimed. "This too touches us, I will bet a penny. Let us see at once what it contains. Clarence indeed! Perhaps we may have him on the hip yet, the arch-traitor!" But I held the pocket-book back, though my cheeks red- dened and I knew I must seem foolish. They made certain that this letter was a communication to some spy, probably to Clarence himself under cover of a feminine address. Perhaps it was, but it bore a woman's name and it was sealed; and foolish though I might be, I would not betray the woman's secret. "No, madam," I said confused, awkward, stammering, yet withholding it with a secret obstinacy ; "pardon me if I do not obey you — if I do not let this be opened. It may be what you say," I added with an effort; "but it may also contain an honest secret, and that a woman's." "What do you say?" cried the Duchess; "here are scru- ples!" At that her husband smiled, and I looked in despair from him to Mistress Anne. Would she sympathize 8o THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. with my feelings? I found that she had turned her back on us, and was gazing over the side. **Do you really mean," continued the Duchess, tapping her foot sharply on the deck, "that you are not going to open that, you foolish boy?" **I do — with your Grace's leave," I answered. "Or without my Grace's leave! That is what you mean," she retorted pettishly, a red spot in each cheek. "When people will not do what I ask, it is always, Grace! Grace! Grace! But I know them now." I dared not smile ; and I would not look up, lest my heart should fail me and I should give her her way. "You foolish boy!" she again said, and sniffed. Then with a toss of her head she went away, her husband follow- ing her obediently. I feared that she was grievously offended, and I got up restlessly and went across the deck to the rail on which Mistress Anne was leaning, meaning to say something which should gain for me her sympathy, perhaps her advice. But the words died on my lips, for as I approached she turned her face abruptly toward me, and it was so white, so haggard, so drawn, that I uttered a cry of alarm. "You are ill!" I exclaimed. "Tet me call the Duchess!" She gripped my sleeve almost fiercely, "Hush!" she muttered. "Do nothing of the kind. I am not well. It is the water. But it will pass off, if you do not notice it. I hate to be noticed," she added, with an angry shrug. I was full of pity for. her and reproached myself sorely. "What a selfish brute I have been!" I said. "You have watched by me night after night, and nursed me day after day, and I have scarcely thanked you. And now you are ill yourself. It is my fault!" She looked at me, a wan smile on her face. * * A little, per- haps," she answered faintly. "But it is chiefly the water. I shall be better presently. About that letter — did you not come to speak to me about it?" "Never mind it now," I said anxiously. "Will you not lie down on the rugs awhile? Let me give you my place," I pleaded. "No, no!" she cried impatiently; and seeing I vexed her by my importunity, I desisted. "The letter," she went on; "you will open it by and by?" ON BOARD THE '' FRAMLlNGHAMr 8 1 "No," I said slowly, considering, to tell the truth, the strength of my resolution, "I think I shall not." "You will! you will!" she repeated, with a kind of scorn. "The Duchess will ask you again, and you will give it to her. Of course you will!" Her tone was strangely querulous, and her eyes continu- ally flashed keen, biting glances at me. But I thought only that she was ill and excited, and I fancied it was best to humor her. "Well, perhaps I shall," I said soothingly. "Possibly. It is hard to refuse her anything. And yet I hope I may not. The girl — it may be a girl's secret." "Well?" she asked, interrupting me abruptly, her voice harsh and unmusical. "What of her?" She laid her hand on her bosom as though to still some secret pain. I looked at her, anxious and wondering, but she had again averted her face. "What of her?" she repeated. "Only that — I would not willingly hurt her!" I blurted out. She did not answer. She stood a moment, then to my surprise she turned away without a word, and merely com- manding me by a gesture of the hand not to follow, walked slowly away. I watched her cross the deck and pass through the doorway into the deck-house. She did not once turn her face, and my only fear was that she was ill; more seriously ill, perhaps, than she had acknowledged. CHAPTER VIII. A HOUSE OF PEACE. AS the day went on, therefore, I looked eagerly for Mis- tress Anne's return, but she appeared no more, though I maintained a close watch on the cabin-door. All the afternoon, too, the Duchess kept away from me, and I feared that I had seriously offended her; so that it was with no very pleasant anticipations that, going into that part of the deck-house which served us for a common room, to see if the evening meal was set, I found only the Duchess and Master Bertie prepared to sit down to it. I suppose that something of my feeling was expressed in my face, for while I was yet half-way between door and table, my lady gave way to a peal of merriment. "Come, sit down, and do not be afraid!" she cried pleas- antly, her gray eyes still full of laughter. "I vow the lad thinks I shall eat him. Nay, when all is said and done, I like you the better, Sir Knight Errant, for your scruples. I see that you are determined to act up to your name. But that reminds me," she added in a more serious vein. "We have been frank with you. You must be equally frank with us. What are we to call you, pray?" I looked down at my plate and felt my face grow scarlet. The wound which the discovery of my father's treachery had dealt me had begun to heal. In the action, the move- ment, the adventure of the last fortnight, I had well-nigh lost sight of the blot on my escutcheon, of the shame which had driven me from home. But the question, "What are we to call you?" revived the smart, and revived it with an added pang. It had been very well, in theory, to proudly discard my old name. It was painful, in practice, to be un- able to answer the Duchess, "I am a Cludde of Coton, nephew to Sir Anthony, formerly esquire of the body to King Henry. I am no unworthy follower and #«"iociate A HOUSE OF PEACE. 83 even for you," and to have instead to reply, "I have no name. I am nobody. I have all to make and win." Yet this was my ill- fortune. Her woman's eye saw my trouble as I hesitated, confused and doubting what I should reply. "Come!" she said good-naturedly, trying to reassure me. "You are of gentle birth. Of that we feel sure." I shook my head. "Nay, I am of no birth, madam," I answered hurriedly. "I have no name, or at any rate no name that I can be proud of. Call me — call me, if it please you, Francis Carey." "It is a good name, ' * quoth Master Bertie, pausing with his knife suspended in the air. "A right good Protestant name ! ' ' "But I have no claim to it," I rejoined, more and more hurt. "I have all to make. I am a new man. Yet do not fear!" I added quickly, as I saw what I took to be a cloud of doubt cross my lady's face. "I will follow you no less faithfully for that!" "Well," said the Duchess, a smile again transforming her open features, "I will answer for that. Master Carey. Deeds are better than names, and as for being a new man, what with Pagets and Cavendishes and Spencers, we have nought but new men nowadays. So, cheer up!" she con- tinued kindly. * 'And we will poke no questions at you, though I doubt whether you do not possess more birth and breed- ing than you would have us think. And if, when we return to England, as I trust we may before we are old men and women, we can advance your cause, then let us have your secret. No one can say that Katherine Willoughby ever forgot her friend." "Or forgave her enemy over quickly," quoth her hus- band naively. She rapped his knuckles with the back of her knife for that; and under cover of this small diversion I had time to regain my composure. But the matter left me sore at heart, and more than a little homesick. And I sought leave to retire early. "You are right!" said the Duchess, rising graciously. "To- night, after being out in the air, you will sleep soundly, and to-morrow you will be a new man," with a faint smile. "Believe me, I am not ungrateful. Master Francis, and I will diligently seek occasion to repay both your gallant de- 84 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. fense of the other day and your future service." She gave me her hand to kiss, and I bent over it. "Now," she continued, "do homage to my baby, and then I shall con- sider that you are really one of us, and pledged to our cause." I kissed the tiny fist held out to me, a soft pink thing looking like some dainty sea-shell. Master Bertie cordially grasped my hand. And so under the oil-lamp in the neat cabin of that old Dutch boat, somewhere on the Waal between Gorcum and Nimuegen, we plighted our troth to one another, and in a sense I became one of them. I went to my berth cheered and encouraged by their kindness. But the interview, satisfactory as it was, had set up no little excitement in my brain, and it was long before I slept. When I did I had a strange dream. I dreamed that I was sitting in the hall at Coton, and that Petronilla was standing on the dais looking fixedly at me with gentle, sor- rowful eyes. I wanted to go to her, but I could not move; every dreamer knows the sensation. I tried to call to her, to ask her what was the matter, and why she so looked at me. But I could utter no sound. And still she continued to fix me with the same sad, reproachful eyes, in which I read a warning, yet could not ask its meaning. I struggled so hard that at last the spell was in a degree broken. Following the direction of her eyes I looked down at myself, and saw fastened to the breast of my doublet the knot of blue velvet which she had made for my sword-hilt, and which I had ever since carried in my bosom. More, I saw, with a singular feeling of anger and sorrow, that a hand which came over my shoulder was tugging hard at the rib- bon in the attempt to remove it. This gave me horrible concern, yet at the moment I could not move nor do anything to prevent it. At last, making a stupendous effort, I awoke, my last experience, dreaming, being of the strange hand working at my breast. My first waking idea was the same, so that I threw out my arms, and cried aloud, and sat up. "Ugh!" I exclaimed, trembling in the intensity of my relief, as I looked about and wel- comed the now familiar surroundings. "It was only a dream. It was " I stopped abruptly, my eyes falling on a form lurking in A HOUSE OF PEACE. 85 the doorway. I could see it only dimly by the light of a hanging lamp, which smoked and burned redly overhead. Yet I could see it. It was real, substantial — a waking fig- ure; nevertheless, a faint touch of superstitious terror still clung to me. "Speak, please!" I asked. "Who is it?" "It is only I," answered a soft voice, well known to me — Mistress Anne's. **I came in to see how you were," she continued, advancing a little, "and whether you were sleeping. I am afraid I awoke you. But you seemed," she added, "to be having such painful dreams that perhaps it was as well I did." I was fumbling in my breast while she spoke ; and cer- tainly, whether in my sleep I had undone the fastenings or had loosened them intentionally before I lay down (though I could not remember doing so), my doublet and shirt were open at the breast. The velvet knot was safe, however, in that tiny inner pocket beside the letter, and I breathed again. "lam very glad you did awake me!" I replied, looking gratefully at her. "I was having a horrible dream. But how good it was of you to think of me — and when you are not well yourself, too." "Oh, I am better," she murmured, her eyes, which glis- tened in the light, fixed steadily on me. "Much better. Now go to sleep again, and happier dreams to you. After to-night," she added pleasantly, "I shall no longer consider you as an invalid, nor intrude upon you." And she was gone before I could reiterate my thanks. The door fell to, and I was alone, full of kindly feelings toward her, and of thankfulness that my horrible vision had no foundation. "Thank Heaven!" I murmured more than once, as I lay down; "it was only a dream." Next day we reached Nimuegen, where we stayed a short time. Leaving that place in the afternoon, twenty-four hours' journeying, partly by river, partly, if I remember rightly, by canal, brought us to the neighborhood of Arn- heim on the Rhine. It was the ist of March, but the open- ing month belied its reputation. There was a brightness, a softness in the air, and a consequent feeling as of spring which wo-ild better have befitted the middle of April. All day we remained on deck enjoying the kindliness of nature, which was especially grateful to me, in whom the sap of 86 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDD^. health war, beginning lo spring again; and we were stih. there when one of those gorgeous sunsets which are peculiar to that country began to fling its hues across our path. We turned a jutting promontory, the boat began to fall off, and the captain came up, his errand to tell us that our jour- ney was done. We went eagerly forward at the news, and saw in a kind of bay, formed by a lake-like expansion of the river, a little island green and low, its banks trimly set with a single row of poplars. It was perhaps a quarter of a mile every way, and a channel one-fourth as wide separated it from the nearer shore of the river; to which, however, a long narrow bridge of planks laid on trestles gave access. On the outer side of the island, facing the river's course, stood a low white house, before which a sloping green terrace, also bor- dered with poplars, led down to a tiny pier. Behind and around the house were meadows as trim and neat as a child's toys, over which the eye roved with pleasure until it reached the landward side of the island, and there detected, nestling among gardens, a tiny village of half a dozen cottages. It was a scene of enchanting peace and quietude. As we slowly plowed our way up to the landing-place, I saw the rabbits stand to gaze at us, and then with a flick of their heels dart off to their holes. I marked the cattle moving homeward in a string, and heard the wild fowl rise in creek and pool with a whir of wings. I turned with a full heart to my neighbor. "Is it not lovely?" I cried with enthusi- asm. "Is it not a peaceful place — a very Garden of Eden?" I looked to see her fall into raptures such as women are commonly more prone to than men. But all women are not the same. Mistress Anne was looking, indeed, when I turned and surprised her, at the scene which had so moved me, but the expression of her face was sad and bitter and utterly melancholy. The weariness and fatigue I had often seen lurking in her eyes had invaded all her features. She looked five years older; no longer a girl, but a grav-faced, hopeless woman, whom the sight of this peaceful haven rather smote to the heart than filled with anticipations of safety and repose. It was but for a moment I saw her so. Then she dashed her hand across her eyes — though J[ saw no tears in them — A HOUSE OF PEACE, ^ and with a pettish exclamation turned away. "Poor girl!" I thought. "She, too, is homesick. No doubt this reminds her of some place at home, or of some person." I thought this the more likely, as Master Bertie came from Lincoln- shire, which he said had many of the features of this strange land. And it was conceivable enough that she should know Lincolnshire too, being related to his wife. I soon forgot the matter in the excitement of landing. A few minutes of bustle and it was over. The boat put out again ; and we four were left face to face with two strangers, an elderly man and a girl, who had come down to the pier to meet us. The former, stout, bluff, and red-faced, with a thick gray beard and a gold chain about his neck, had the air of a man of position. He greeted us warmly. His companion, who hung behind him, somewhat shyly, was as pretty a girl as one could find in a month. A second look assured me of something more — that she formed an excel- lent foil to the piquant brightness and keen vivacity, the dark hair and nervous features of Mistress Anne. For the Dutch girl was fair and plump and of perfect complexion. Her hair was very light, almost flaxen indeed, and her eyes were softly and limpidly blue; grave, innocent, wondering eyes they were, I remember. I guessed rightly that she was the elderly man's daughter. Later I learned that she was his only child, and that her name was Dymphna. He was a Master Lindstrom, a merchant of standing in Arnheim. He had visited England and spoke English fairly, and being under some obligations, it appeared, to the Duchess Katherine, was to be our host. We all walked up the little avenue together, Master Lind- strom talking as he went to husband or wife, while his daughter and Mistress Anne came next, gazing each at each in silence, as women when they first meet will gaze, taking stock, I suppose, of a rival's weapons. I walked last, wondering why they had nothing to say to one another. As we entered the house the mystery was explained. "She speaks no English,*' said Mistress Anne, with a touch of scorns "And we no Dutch,** I answered, smiling. "Here in Holland I am afraid that she will have somewhat the best of us. Try her with Spanish." 88 THE STORV OP FRANCIS CLUDDE, ''Spanish! I know none." "Well, I do, a little." "What, you know Spanish?" Mistress Anne's tone of surprise amounted almost to incredulity, and it flattered me, boy that I was. I dare say it would have flattered many an older head than mine. "You know Spanish? Where did you learn it?" she continued sharply. "At home," "At home! Where is that?" And she eyed me still more closely. "Where is your home. Master Carey? You have never told me." But I had said already more than I intended, and I shook my head. "I mean," I explained awkwardly, "that I learned it in a home I once had. Now my home is here. At any rate I have no other." The Dutch girl, standing patiently beside us, had looked first at one face and then at the other as we talked. We were all by this time in a long, low parlor, warmed by a pretty closed fireplace covered with glazed tiles. On the shelves of a great armoire, or dresser, at one end of the room appeared a fine show of silver plate. At the other end stood a tall linen-press of walnut-wood, handsomely carved; and even the gratings of the windows and the handles of the doors were of hammered iron-work. There were no rushes on the floor, which was made of small pieces of wood deli- cately joined and set together and brightly polished. But everything in sight was clean and trim to a degree which would have shamed our great house at Coton, where the rushes sometimes lay for a week unchanged. With each glance round I felt a livelier satisfaction. I turned to Mis- tress Dymphna. "Senorita!" I said, mustering my noblest accent. "Beso los pies de usted! Habla-usted Castillano?" Mistress Anne stared, while the effect on the girl whom I addressed was greater than I had looked for, but certainly of a different kind. She started and drew back, an expres- sion of oifended dignity and of something like anger ruffling her placid face. Did she not understand? Yes, for after a moment's hesitation, and with a heightened color, she an- swered, "Si, Sefior." Her constrained manner was not promising, but I was going on to open a conversation if I could — for it looked A HOUSE OF PEACE, 89 little grateful of lis to stand there speechless and staring — when Mistress Anne interposed. "What did you say to her? What was it?" she asked eagerly. **I asked her if she spoke Spanish. That was all," I replied, my eyes on Dymphna's face, which still betrayed trouble of some kind, "except that I paid her the usual formal compliment. But what is she saying to her father?" It was like the Christmas game of cross-questions. The girl and I had spoken in Spanish. I translated what we had said into English for Mistress Anne, and Mistress Dym- phna turned it into Dutch for her father ; an anxious look on her face which needed no translation. "What is it?" asked Master Bertie, observing that some- thing was wrong. "It is nothing — nothing!" replied the merchant apolo- getically, though, as he spoke, his eyes dwelt on me curiously. 'Tt is only that I did not know that you had a Spaniard in your company." "A Spaniard?" Master Bertie answered. "We have none. This," pointing to me, "is our very good friend and faithful follower. Master Carey — an Englishman." "To whom," added the Duchess, smiling gravely, "I am greatly indebted." I hurriedly explained the mistake, and brought at once a smile of relief to the Mynheer's face. "Ah! pardon me, I beseech you," he said. "My daughter was in error." And he added something in Dutch which caused Mistress Dymphna to blush. "You know," he continued — "I may speak freely to you, since our enemies are in the main the same — you know that our Spanish rulers are not very popu- lar with us, and grow less popular every day, especially with those who are of the reformed faith. We have learned some of us to speak their language, but we love them none the better for that." "I can sympathize with you, indeed," cried the Duchess impulsively. "God grant that our country may never be in the same plight : though it looks as if this Spanish marriage were like to put us in it. It is Spain ! Spain ! Spain ! and nothing else nowadays!" "Nevertheless, the Emperor is a great and puissant mon- arch," rejoined the Arnheimer thoughtfully; "and could he rule us himself, we might do well. But his dominions 90 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE, are so large, he knows little of us. And worse, he is dying, or as good as dying. He can scarcely sit his horse, and rumor says that before the year is out he will resign the throne. Then we hear little good of his successor, your queen's husband, and look to hear less. I fear that there is a dark time before us, and God only knows the issue. ' ' '*And alone will rule it," Master Bertie rejoined piously. This saying was in a way the keynote to the life, we found our host living on his island estate. Peace, but peace with constant fear for an assailant, and religion for a sup- porter. Several times a week Master Lindstrom would go to Arnheim to superintend his business, and always after his return he would shake his head, and speak gravely, and Dymphna would lose her color for an hour or two. Things were going badly. The reformers were being more and more hardly dealt with. The Spaniards were growing more despotic. That was his constant report. And then I would see him, as he walked with us in orchard or garden, or sat beside the stove, cast wistful glances at the comfort and plenty round him. I knew that he was asking himself how long they would last. If they escaped the clutches of a tyrannical government, would they be safe in the tunes that were coming from the violence of an ill-paid soldiery? The answer was doubtful, or rather it was too certain. I sometimes wondered how he could patiently foresee such possibilities, and take no steps, whatever the risk, to pre- vent them. At first I thought his patience sprang from the Dutch character. Later I traced its deeper roots to a sim- plicity of faith and a deep religious feeling, which either did not at that time exist in England, or existed only among people with whom I had never come into contact. Here they seemed common enough and real enough. These folks' faith sustained them. It was a part of their lives; a bulwark against the fear that otherwise would have over- whelmed them. And to an extent, too, which then sur- prised me, I found, as time went on, that the Duchess and Master Bertie shared this enthusiasm, although with them it took a less obtrusive form. I was led at the time to think a good deal about this ; and just a word I may say of myself, and of those days spent on the Rhine island— that whereas before I had taken A HOUSE OF PEACE, 91 but a lukewarm interest in religious questions, and, while clinging instinctively to the teaching of my childhood, had conformed with a light heart rather than annoy my uncle, I came to think somewhat differently now; differently and more seriously. And so I have continued to think since, though I have never become a bigot ; a fact I owe, perhaps, to Mistress Dymphna, in whose tender heart there was room for charity as well as faith. For she was my teacher. Of necessity, since no other of our party could commu- nicate with her, I became more or less the Dutch girl's companion. I would often, of an evening, join her on a wooden bench which stood under an elm on a little spit of grass looking toward the city, and at some distance from the house. Here, when the weather was warm, she would watch for her father's return ; and here one day, while talk- ing with her, I had the opportunity of witnessing a sight unknown in England, but which year by year was to become more common in the Netherlands, more heavily fraught with menace in Netherland eyes. We happened to be so deeply engaged in watching the upper end of the reach at the time in question, where we ex- pected each moment to see Master Lindstrom's boat round the point, that we saw nothing of a boat coming the other way, until the flapping of its sails, as it tacked, drew our eyes toward it. Even then in the boat itself I saw nothing strange, but in its passengers I did. They were swarthy, mustachioed men, who in the hundred poses they assumed, as they lounged on deck or leaned over the side, never lost a peculiar air of bravado. As they drew nearer to us the sound of their loud voices, their oaths and laughter reached us plainly, and seemed to jar on the evening still- ness. Their bold, fierce eyes, raking the banks unceasingly, reached us at last. The girl by my side uttered a cry of alarm, and rose as if to retreat. But she sat down again, for behind us was an open stretch of turf, and to escape unseen was impossible. Already a score of eyes had marked her beauty, and as the boat drew abreast of us, I had to listen to the ribald jests and laughter of those on board. My ears tingled and my cheeks burned. But I could do nothing. I could only glare at them, and grind my teeth.' "Who are they?" I muttered. "The cowardly knaves!" "Oh, hush! hush I" the girl pleaded. She had retreated 92 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. behind me. And indeed I need not have put my ques- tion, for though I had never seen the Spanish soldiery, I had heard enough about them to recognize them now. In the year 1555 their reputation was at its height. Their fathers had overcome the Moors after a contest of centuries, and they themselves had overrun Italy and lowered the pride of France. As a result they had many military virtues and all the military vices. Proud, bloodthirsty, and licentious everywhere, it may be imagined that in the subject Nether- lands, with their pay always in arrear, they were, indeed, people to be feared. It was seldom that even their com- manders dared to check their excesses. Yet, when the first flush of my anger had subsided, I looked after them, odd as it may seem, with mingled feel- ings. With all their faults they were few against many, a conquering race in a foreign land. They could boast of blood and descent. They were proud to call themselves the soldiers and gentlemen of Europe. I was against them, yet I admired them with a boy's admiration for the strong and reckless. Of course I said nothing of this to my companion. In- deed, when she spoke to me I did not hear her. My thoughts had flown far from the burgher's daughter sitting by me, and were with my grandmother's people. I saw, in imagination, the uplands of Old Castile, as I had often heard them described, hot in summer and bleak in winter. I pictured the dark, frowning walls of Toledo, with its hun- dred Moorish trophies, the castles that crowned the hills around, the gray olive groves, and the box-clad slopes. I saw Palencia, where my grandmother, Petronilla de Vargas, was born ; Palencia, dry and brown and sun-baked, lying squat and low on its plain, the eaves of its cathedral a man's height from the ground. All this I saw. I suppose the Spanish blood in me awoke and asserted itself at sight of those other Spaniards. And then — then I forgot it all as I heard behind me an alien voice, and I turned and found Dymphna had stolen from me and was talking to a stranger. CHAPTER IX. PLAYING WITH FIRE. HE was a young man, and a Dutchman, but not a Dutch- man of the stout, burly type which I had most common- ly seen in the country. He had, it is true, the usual fair hair and blue eyes, and he was rather short than tall; but his figure was thin and meager, and he had a pointed nose and chin, and a scanty fair beard. I took him to be near- sighted : at a second glance I saw that he was angry. He was talking fast to Dymphna — of course in Dutch — and my first impulse, in face of his excited gestures and queer ap- pearance, was to laugh. But I had a notion what his rela- tionship to the girl was, and I smothered this, and instead asked, as soon as I could get a word in, whether I should leave them. "Oh, no!" Dymphna answered, blushing slightly, and turning to me with a troubled glance. I believe she had clean forgotten my presence. "This is Master Jan Van Tree, a good friend of ours. And this," she continued, still in Spanish, but speaking to him, "is Master Carey, one of my father's guests." We bowed, he formally, for he had not recovered his temper, and I — I dare say I still had my Spanish ancestors in my head — with condescension. We disliked one another at sight, I think. I dubbed him a mean little fellow, a trader, a peddler; and, however he classed me, it was not favorably. So it was no particular desire to please him which led me to say with outward solicitude, "I fear you are annoyed at something. Master Van Tree?" "I am!" he said bluntly, meeting me half-way. "And am I to know the cause?" I asked, "or is it a secret?" "It is no secret!" he retorted. "Mistress Lindstrom should have been more careful. She should not have ex- posed herself to the chance of being seen by those miserable foreigners." "The foreigners — in the boat?" I said dryly. "Yes, of course — in the boat," he answered. He was obliged to say that, but he glared at me across her as he 94 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. spoke. We had turned and were walking back to the house, the poplars casting long shadows across our path. "They were rude," I observed carelessly, my chin very high. "But there is no particular harm done that I can see, Master Van Tree." "Perhaps not, as far as you can see," he retorted in great excitement. "But perhaps also you are not very far- sighted. You may not see it now, yet harm will follow." "Possibly," I said, and I was going to follow up this seemingly candid admission by something very boorish, when Mistress Dymphna struck in nervously. "My father is anxious," she explained, speaking to me, "that I should have as little to do with our Spanish govern- ors as possible. Master Carey. It always vexes him to hear that I have fallen in their way, and that is why my friend feels annoyed. It was not, of course, your fault, since you did not know of this. It was I," she continued hurriedly, "who should not have ventured to the elm tree without see- ing that the coast was clear." I knew that she was timidly trying, her color coming and going, to catch my eye; to appease me as the greater stran- ger, and to keep the peace between her ill-matched com- panions, who, indeed, stalked along eying one another much as a wolf-hound and a badger-dog might regard each other across a choice bone. But the young Dutchman's sudden appearance had put me out. I was not in love with her, yet I liked to talk to her, and I grudged her to him, he seemed so mean a fellow. And so — churl that I was — in answer to her speech I let drop some sneer about the great fear of the Spaniards which seemed to prevail in these parts. " You are not afraid of them, then?" Van Tree said, with a smile. "No, I am not," I answered, my lip curling also. "Ah!" with much meaning. "Perhaps you do not know them very well." "Perhaps not," I replied. "Still, my grandmother was a Spaniard." "So I should have thought," he retorted swiftly. So swiftly that I felt the words as I should have felt a blow. "What do you mean.?" I blurted out, halting before him, with my cheek crimson. In vain were all Dymphna's appealing glances, all her signs of distress. ' 'I will have PLA YING WITH FIRE. 95 you explain, Master Van Tree, what you mean by that?" I repeated fiercely. "I mean what I said," he answered, confronting me stubbornly, and shaking off Dyfnphna's hand. His blue eyes twinkled with rage, his thin beard bristled ; he was the color of a turkey-cock's comb. At home we should have thought him a comical little figure ; but he did not seem so absurd here. For one thing, he looked spiteful enough for anything; and for another, though I topped him by a head and shoulders, I could not flatter myself that he was afraid of me. On the contrary, I felt that in the presence of his mistress, small and short-sighted as he was, he would have faced a lion without winking. His courage was not to be put to the proof. I was still glaring at him, seeking some retort which should provoke him beyond endurance, when a hand was laid on my shoul- der, and I turned to find that Master Bertie and the Duchess had joined us, "So here are the truants," the former said pleasantly, speaking in English, and showing no consciousness what- ever of the crisis in the middle of which he had come up, though he must have discerned in our defiant attitudes, and in Dymphna's troubled face, that something was wrong. "You know who this is. Master Francis," he continued heartily. "Or have you not been introduced to Master Van Tree, the betrothed of our host's daughter?" "Mistress Dymphna has done me that honor," I said stiffly, recovering myself in appearance, while at heart sore and angry with everybody. "But I fear the Dutch gentle- rnan has not thanked her for the introduction, since he learned that my grandmother was Spanish." " Your grandmother, do you mean?" cried the Duchess, much astonished. "Yes, madam." "Well, to be sure!" she exclaimed, lifting up her hands and appealing whimsically to the others. "This boy is full of starts and surprises. You never know what he will pro- duce next. The other day it was a warrant! To-day it is a grandmother, and a temper!" I could not be angry with her; and perhaps I was not sorry now that my quarrel with the young Dutchman had stopped where it had. I affected, as well as I could, to join 9^ THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE, in the laugh at my expense, and took advantage of the arrival of our host — who at this moment came up the slope from the landing-place, his hands outstretched and a smile of greeting on his kindly face — to slip away unnoticed, and make amends to my humor by switching off the heads of the withes by the river. But naturally the scene left a degree of ill-feeling behind it ; and for the first time, during the two months we had spent under Master Lindstrom's roof, the party who sat down to supper were under some constraint. I felt that the young Dutchman had had the best of the bout in the garden; and I talked loudly and foolishly in the boyish attempt to assert myself, and to set myself right at least in my own estimation. Master Van Tree meanwhile sat silent, eying me from time to time in no friendly fashion. Dymphna seemed nervous and frightened, and the Duch- ess and her husband exchanged troubled glances. Only our host and Mistress Anne, who was in particularly good spirits, were unaffected by the prevailing chill. Mistress Anne, indeed, in her ignorance, made matters worse. She had begun to pick up some Dutch, and was fond of airing her knowledge and practicing fresh sentences at meal-times. By some ill-luck she contrived this evening — particularly after, finding no one to contradict me, I had fallen into comparative silence— to frame her sentences so as to cause as much embarrassment as possible to all of us. "Where did you walk with Dymphna this morning?" was the question put to me. "You are fond of the water; Englishmen are fond of the water," she said to Dymphna. "Dymphna is tall; Master Francis is tall. I sit by you to-night; the Dutch lady sat by you last night," and so on, and so on, with prattle which seemed to amuse our host exceedingly — he was never tired of correcting her mistakes — but which put the rest of us out of countenance, bringing the tears to poor Dymphna's eyes — she did not know where to look — and making her lover glower at me as though he would eat me. It was in vain that the Duchess made spasmodic rushes into conversation, and in the intervals nodded and frowned at the delinquent. Mistress Anne in her innocence saw nothing. She went on until Van Tree could stand it no PLA YING WITH FIRE, 97 longer, and with a half-smothered threat, which was per- fectly intelligible to me, rose roughly from the table, and went to the door as if to look out at the night. "What is the matter?" Mistress Anne said, wonderingly, in English. Her eyes seemed at length to be opened to the fact that something was amiss with us. Before I could answer, the Duchess, who had risen, came behind her. "You little fool!" she whispered fiercely, "if fool you are. You deserve to be whipped!" "Why, what have I done?" murmured the girl, really frightened now, and appealing to me. "Done!" whispered the Duchess; and I think she pinched her, for my neighbor winced. "More harm than you guess, you minx! And for you. Master Francis, a word with you. . Come with me to my room, please." I went with her, half-minded to be angry, and half- inclined to feel ashamed of myself. She did not give me time, however, to consider which attitude I should take up, for the moment the door of her room was closed behind us, she turned upon me, the color high in her cheeks. "Now, young man," she said in a tone of ringing contempt, "do you really think that that girl is in love with you?" "What girl?" I asked sheepishly. The unexpected ques- tion and her tone put me out of countenance. "What girl? What girl?" she replied impatiently. "Don't play with me, boy! You know whom I mean. Dymphna Lindstrom!" "Oh, I thought you 'meant Mistress Anne," I said, some- what impertinently. Her face fell in an extraordinary fashion, as if the sug- gestion were not pleasant to her. But she answered on the instant: "Well ! The vanity of the lad ! Do you think all the girls are in love with you? Because you have been sitting with a pretty face on each side of you, do you think you have only to throw the handkerchief, this way or that? If you do, open your eyes, and you will find it is not so. My kinswoman can take care of herself, so we will leave her out of the 'discussion, please. And for this pink and white Dutch girl," my lady continued viciously, "let me tell you that she thinks more of Van Tree's little finger than of your whole body." I shrugged my shoulders, but still I was mortified. A 98 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. young man may not be in love with a girl, yet it displeases him to hear that she is indifferent to him. The Duchess noticed the movement. "Don't do that," she cried in impatient scorn. "You do not see much in Master Van Tree, perhaps? I thought not. Therefore you think a girl must be of the same mind as yourself. Well," with a fierce little nod, "you will learn some day that it is not so, that women are not quite what men think them; and particularly, Master Francis, that six feet of manhood, and a pretty face on top of it, do not always have their way. But there, I did not bring you here to tell you that. I want to know whether you are aware what you are doing?" I muttered something to the effect that I did not know I was doing any harm. "You do not call it harm, then," the Duchess retorted with energy, "to endanger the safety of every one of us? Cannot you see that if you insult and offend this young man — which you are doing out of pure wanton mischief, for you are not in love with the girl — he may ruin us?" "Ruin us?" I repeated incredulously. "Yes, ruin us!" she cried. "Here we are, living more or less in hiding through the kindness of Master Lindstrom — living in peace and quietness. But do you suppose that inquiries are not being made for us? Whyj I would bet a dozen gold angels that Master Clarence is in the Nether- lands, at this moment, tracking us." I was startled by this idea, and she saw I was. "We can trust Master Lindstrom, were it only for his own sake," she continued more quietly, satisfied perhaps with the effect she had produced. "And this young man, who is the son of one of the principal men of Arnheim, is also disposed to look kindly on us, as I fancy it is his nature to look. But if you make mischief between Dymphna and him " "I have not," I said. "Then do not," she replied sharply. "Look to it for the future. And more, do not let him fancy it possible. Jealousy is as easily awakened as it is hardly put to sleep. A word from this young man to the Spanish authorities, and we should be hauled back to England in a trice, if worse did not befall us here. Now, you will be care- ful?" PLA YING WITH FIRE. 99 "I will," I said, conscience-stricken and a little cowed. "That is better," she replied smiling. "I think you will. Now go." I went down again with some food for thought^ — with some good intentions, too. But I was to find — the discovery is made by many — that good resolutions commonly come too late. When I went downstairs I found my host and Mas- ter Bertie alone in the parlor. The girls had disappeared, so had Van Tree, and I saw at once that something had hap- pened. Master Bertie was standing gazing at the stove very thoughtfully, and the Dutchman was walking up and down the room with an almost comical expression of annoy- ance and trouble on his pleasant face. "Where are the young ladies?" I asked. "Upstairs," said Master Bertie, not looking at me. "And — and Van Tree?" I asked mechanically. Some- how I anticipated the answer. "Gone!" said the Englishman curtly. "Ay, gone, the foolish lad!" the Dutchman struck in, tugging at his beard. "What has come to him? He is not wont to show temper. I have never known him and Dymphna have a cross word before. What has come to the lad, I say, to go off in a passion at this time of night? And no one knows whither he has gone, or when he will come back again!" He seemed as he spoke hardly conscious of my presence ; but Master Bertie turned and looked at me, and I hung my head, and very shortly afterward, I slunk out. The thought of what I might have brought upon us all by my petulance and vanity made me feel sick. I crept up to bed nervous and fearful of the morrow, listening to every noise without, and praying inwardly that my alarm might not be justified. When the morrow came I went downstairs as anxious to see Van Tree in the flesh as I had been yesterday disap- pointed by his appearance. But no Van Tree was there to be seen. Nothing had been heard of him. Dymphna moved restlessly about, her cheeks pale, her eyes downcast, and if I had ever flattered myself that I was anything to the girl, I was undeceived now. The Duchess shot angry glances at me from time to time. Master Bertie kept look- ing anxiously at the door. Every one seemed to fear and IDO THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. to expect something. But none of them feared and ex- pected it as I did. "He must have gone home; he must have gone to Arn- heim," said our host, trying to hide his vexation. "He will be back in a day or two. Young men will be young men." But I found that the Duchess did not share the belief that Van Tree had gone home; for in the course of the morning she took occasion, when we were alone, to charge me to be careful not to come into collision with him. "How can I, now he has gone?" I said meekly, feeling I was in disgrace. "He has not gone far," replied the Duchess meaningly. "Depend upon it, he will not go far 'out of sight unless there is more harm done than I think, or he is very different from English lovers. But if you come across him, I pray you to keep clear of him. Master Francis." I nodded assent. But of what weight are resolutions, with fate in the other scale! It was some hours after this, toward two o'clock indeed, when Mistress Anne came to me, looking flurried and vexed. "Have you seen Dymphna?" she asked abruptly. "No," I answered. "Why?" "Because she is not in the house," the girl answered, speaking quickly, "nor in the garden; and the last time I saw her she was crossing the island toward the footbridge. I think she has gone that way to be on the lookout — you can guess for whom [with a smile]. But I am fearful lest she shall meet some one else. Master Francis ; she is wear- ing her gold chain, and one of the maids says that she saw two of the Spanish garrison on the road near the end of the footbridge this morning. That is the way by land to Arn- heim, you know." "That is bad," I said. "What is to be done?" "You must go and look for her," Anne suggested. "She should not be alone." "Let her father go, or Master Bertie," I answered. "Her father has gone down the river — to Arnheim, I ex- pect; and Master Bertie is fishing in a boat somewhere. It will take time to find him. Why cannot you go? If she has crossed the footbridge she will not be far away." PLAYING WITH FIRg, \] \ %qi She seemed so anxious as she spoke for the Dutch girl's safety, that she infected me with her fears, and I let myself be persuaded. After all there might be danger, and I did not see what else was to be done. Indeed, Mistress Anne did not leave me until she had seen me clear of the or- chard and half across the meadows toward the footbridge. "Mind you bring her back," she cried after me. "Do not let her come alone!" And those were her last words. After we had separated I did think for a moment that it was a pity I had not asked her to come with me. But the thought occurred too late, and I strode on toward the head of the bridge, resolving that, as soon as I had sighted Dymphna, I would keep away from her and content myself with watching over her from a distance. As I passed by the little cluster of cottages on the landward side of the island, I glanced sharply about me, for I thought it not unlikely that Master Van Tree might be lurking in the neighborhood. But I saw nothing either of her or him. All was quiet, the air full of spring sunshine and warmth and hope and the blossoms of fruit trees; and with an indefinable pleasure, a feeling of escape from control and restraint, I crossed the long footbridge, and set foot, almost for the first time since our arrival — for at Master Lindstrom's desire we had kept very close — on the river bank. To the right a fair road or causeway along the waterside led to Arnheim. At the point where I stood, this road on its way from the city took a turn at right angles, running straight away from the river to avoid a wide track of swamp and mere which lay on my left — a quaking marsh many miles round, overgrown with tall rushes and sedges, which formed the head of the bay in which our island lay. I looked up the long, straight road to Arnheim, and saw only a group of travelers moving slowly along it, their backs toward me. The road before me was bare of passengers. Where, then, was Dymphna, if she had crossed the bridge? In the last resort I scanned the green expanse of rushes and willows, which stretched, with intervals of open water, as far as the eye could reach on my left. It was all rustling and shimmering in the light breeze, but my eye picked out one or two raised dykes which penetrated it here and there, and served at once as pathways to islets in the mere and as lo'^ THE r>fOkY O'F -FRANCIS CLUDDE. breastworks against further encroachments of the river. Presently, on one of these, of which the course was fairly- defined by a line of willows, I made out the flutter of a woman's hood. And I remembered that the day before I had heard Dymphna express a wish to go to the marsh for some herb which grew there. "Right!" I said, seating myself with much satisfaction on the last post of the bridge. "She is safe enough there! And I will go no nearer. It is only on the road she is likely to be in danger from our Spanish gallants!" My eyes, released from duty, wandered idly over the landscape for a while, but presently returned to the dyke across the mere. I could not now see Dymphna. The willows hid her, and I waited for her to reappear. She did not, but some one else did ; for by and by, on the same path and crossing an interval between the willows, there came into sight a man's form. "Ho! ho!" I said, following it with my eyes. "So I may go home! Master Van Tree is on the track. And now I hope they will make it up!" I added pettishly. Another second and I started up with a low cry. The sunlight had caught a part of the man's dress, a shining something which flashed back a point of intense light. The, something I guessed at once was a corselet, and it needed scarce another thought to apprise me that Dymphna's fol- lower was not Van Tree at all, but a Spanish soldier ! I lost no time; yet it took me a minute — a minute of trembling haste and anxiety — to discover the path from the causeway on to the dyke. When once I had stumbled on to the latter I found I had lost sight of both figures ; but I ran along at the top of my speed, calculating that the two, who could not be far apart, the man being the nearer to me, were about a quarter of a mile or rather more from the road. I had gone one-half of this distance perhaps when a shrill scream in front caused me to redouble my efforts. I expected to find the ruffian in the act of robbing the girl, and clutched my cudgel — for, alas! I had left my sword at home — more tightly in my grasp, so that it was an immense relief to me when, on turning an angle in the dyke, I saw her running toward me. Her face, still white with fear, how- ever, and her hair streaming loosely behind her, told how PLA YING WITH FIRE, I03 narrow had been her escape — if escape it could be called. For about ten feet behind her, the hood he had plucked off still in his grasp, came Master Spaniard, hot-foot and pant- ing, but gaining on her now with every stride. He was a tall fellow, gayly dressed, swarthy, mustachioed, and fierce-eyed. His corselet and sword-belt shone and jingled as he ran and swore ; but he had dropped his feath- ered bonnet in the slight struggle which had evidently taken place when she got by him ; and it lay a black spot in the middle of the grassy avenue behind him. The sun — it was about three hours after noon — was at my back, and shining directly into his eyes, and I marked this as I raised my cudgel and jumped aside to let the girl pass; for she in her blind fear would have run against me. It was almost the same with him. He did not see me until I was within a few paces of him, and even then I think he noticed my presence merely as that of an unwelcome spectator. He fancied I should step aside; and he cursed me, calling me a Dutch dog for getting in his way. The next moment — he had not drawn his sword nor made any attempt to draw it — we came together violently, and I had my hand on his throat. We swayed as we whirled round one another in the first shock of the collision. A cry of astonishment escaped him — astonishment at my hardihood. He tried, his eyes glaring into mine, and his hot breath on my cheek, to get at his dagger. But it was too late. I brought down my staff, with all the strength of an arm nerved at the moment by rage and despair, upon his bare head. He went down like a stone, and the blood bubbled from his lips. I stood over him watching him. He stretched himself out and turned with a convulsive movement on his face. His hands clawed the grass. His leg moved once, twice, a third time faintly. Then he lay still. There was a lark singing just over my head, and its clear notes seemed, during the long, long minute while I stood bending over him in an awful fascination, to be the only sounds in nature. I looked so long at him in that dreadful stillness and absorption, I dared not at last look up lest I should see I knew not what. Yet when a touch fell on my arm I did not start. I04 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. "You have killed him!" the girl whispered, shuddering. "Yes, I have killed him," I answered mechanically. I could not take my eyes off him. It was not as if I had done this thing after a long conflict, or in a melee with others fighting round me, or on the battle-field. I should have felt no horror then such as I felt now, standing over him in the sunshine with the lark's song in my ears. It had happened so quickly, and the waste about us was so still ; and I had never killed a man before, nor seen a man die. "Oh, come away!" Dymphna wailed suddenly. "Come away!" I turned then, and the sight of the girl's wan face and strained eyes recalled me in some degree to myself. I saw she was ill ; and hastily I gave her my arm, and partly car- ried, partly supported, her back to the road. The way seemed long and I looked behind me often. But we reached the causeway at last, and there in the open I felt some relief. Yet even then, stopping to cast a backward glance at the marsh, I shuddered anew, espying a bright white spark gleaming amid the green of the rushes. It was the dead man's corselet. But if it had been his eye I could scarcely have shrunk from it in greater dread. It will be imagined that we were not long in crossing the island. Naturally I was full of what had happened, and never gave a thought to Van Tree's jealousy, or the inci- dents of his short visit. I had indeed forgotten- his exist- ence until we reached the porch. There entering rapidly, with Dymphna clinging to my arm, I was so oblivious of other matters that when the young Dutchman rose suddenly from the seat on one side of the door, and at the same mo- ment the Duchess rose from the bench on the other, I did not understand in the first instant of surprise what was the matter, though I let Dymphna's hand fall from my arm. The dark scowling face of the one, however, and the anger and chagrin written on the features of the other, as they both glared at us, brought all back to me in a flash. But it was too late. Before I could utter a word the girl's lover pushed by me with a fierce gesture and fiercer cry, and dis- appeared round a corner of the house, "Was ever such folly!" cried the Duchess, stamping her PLA YING WITH FIRE. 105 foot, and standing before us, her face crimson. "Or such fools! You idiot! You " "Hush, madam," I said sternly — had I really grown older in doing the deed? "something has happened." And Dymphna, with a low cry of "The Spaniard! The Spaniard ! " tottered up to her and fainted in her arms. CHAPTER X. THE FACE IN THE PORCH. ''T^HIS is a serious matter," said Master Bertie thought- X fully, as we sat in conclave an hour later round the table in the parlor. Mistress Anne was attending to Dymphna upstairs, and Van Tree had not returned again ; so that we had been unable to tell him of the morning's adventure. But the rest of us were there. *Tt consider- ably adds to the danger of our position," Bertie continued. "Of course it does," his wife said promptly. "But Master Lindstrom here can best judge of that, and of what course it will be safest to take." 'Tt depends," our host answered slowly, "upon whether the dead man be discovered before night. You see if the body be not found ' ' "Well?" said my lady impatiently, as he paused. "Then we must some of us go after dark and bury him," he decided. "And perhaps, though he will be missed at the next roll-call in the city, his death may not be proved, or traced to this neighborhood. In that case the storm will blow over, and things be no worse than before." **I fear there is no likelihood of that," I said; "for I am told he had a companion. One of the maids noticed them lurking about the end of the bridge more than once this morning." Our host's face fell. "That is bad," he said, looking at me in evident con- sternation. "Who told you?" "Mistress Anne. And one of the maids told her. It was that which led me to follow your daughter." The old man got up for about the fortieth time, and shook my hand, while the tears stood in his eyes and his lip THE FACE IN THE PORCH. 107 trembled. "Heaven bless you, Master Carey!" he said. "But for you, my girl might not have escaped." He could not finish. His emotion choked him, and he sat down again. The event of the morning — his daughter's danger, and my share in averting it — had touched him as nothing else could have touched him. I met the Duchess's eyes and they too were soft and shining, wearing an expres- sion very different from that which had greeted me on my return with Dymphna. "Ah, well! she is safe," Master Lindstrom resumed, when he had regained his composure. "Thanks to Heaven and your friend, madam ! Small matter now if house and lands go!" "Still, let us hope they will not," Master Bertie said. "Do you think these miscreants were watching the island on our account? That some information had been given as to our presence, and they were sent to learn what they could?" "No, no!" the Dutchman answered confidently. "It was the sight of the girl and her gewgaws yesterday brought them — the villains! There is nothing safe from them and nothing sacred to them. They saw her as they passed up in the boat, you remember." "But then, supposing the worst to come to the worst?" "We must escape across the frontier to Wesel, in the Duchy of Cleves," replied Lindstrom in a matter-of-fact tone, as if he had long considered and settled the point. "The distance is not great, and in Wesel we may find shel- ter, at any rate for a time. Even there, if pressure be brought to bear upon the Government to give us up, I would not trust it. Yet for a time it may do." "And you would leave all this?" the Duchess said in wonder, her eyes traveling round the room, so clean and warm and comfortable, and settling at length upon the great armoire of plate, which happened to be opposite to her. "You would leave all this at a moment's notice?" "Yes, madam, all we could not carry with us," he answered simply. ' 'Honor and life, these come first. And I thank Heaven that I live here within reach of a foreign soil, and not in the interior, where escape would be hope- less," "But if the true facts were known," the Duchess urged, lo8 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. "would you still be in danger? Would not the magistrates protect you? The Schout and Schepen as you call them? They are Dutchmen." "Against a Spanish governor and a Spanish garrison?" he replied with emphasis. "Ay, they would protect me — as one sheep protects another against the wolves. No ! I dare not risk it. Were I in prison, what would become of Dymphna?" "Master Van Tree?" "He has the will to shelter her, no doubt. And his father has influence ; but such as mine — a broken reed to trust to. Then Dymphna is not all. Once in prison, what- ever the charge, there would be questioning about religion ; perhaps," with a faint smile, "questioning aboutmy guests. " "I suppose you know best," said the Duchess, with a sigh. "But I hope the worst will not come to the worst." "Amen to that!" he answered quite cheerfully. Indeed, it was strange that we seemed to feel more sorrow at the prospect of leaving this haven of a few weeks, than our host of quitting the home of a lifetime. But the necessity had come upon us suddenly, while he had contemplated it for years. So much fear and humiliation had mingled with his enjoyment of his choicest possessions that this long- expected moment brought with it a feeling akin to relief. For myself I had a present trouble that outweighed any calamity of to-morrow. Perforce, since I alone knew the spot where the man lay, I must be one of the burying party. My nerves had not recovered from the blow which the sight of the Spaniard lying dead at my feet had dealt them so short a time before, and I shrank with a natural repulsion from the task before me. Yet there was no escaping it, no chance of escaping it, I saw. None the less, throughout the silent meal to which we four sat down together, neither the girls nor Van Tree ap- pearing, were my thoughts taken up with the business which was to follow. I heard our host, who was to go with me, explaining that there was a waterway right up to the dyke, and that we would go by boat ; and heard him with apathy. What matter how we went, if such were the object of our journey? I wondered how the man's face would look when we came to turn him over, and pictured it in all ghastliest shapes. I wondered whether I should ever forget the THE FACE IN THE PORCH. 1 09 strange spasmodic twitching of his leg, the gurgle — half oath, half cry — which had come with the blood from his throat. When Lindstrom said the moon was up and bade me come with him to the boat, I went mechanically. No one seemed to suspect me of fear. I suppose they thought that, as I had not feared to kill him, I should not fear him dead. And in the general silence and moodiness I escaped notice. "It is a good night for the purpose," the Dutchman said, looking about when we were outside. "It is light enough for us, yet not so light that we run much risk of being seen." I assented, shivering. The moon was almost at the full, and the weather was dry, but scud after scud of thin clouds, sweeping across the breezy sky, obscured the light from time to time, and left nothing certain. We loosed the small- est boat in silence, and getting in, pulled gently round the lower end of the island, making for the fringe of rushes which marked the line of division between river and fen. We could hear the frogs croaking in the marsh, and the water lapping the banks, and gurgling among the tree-roots, and making a hundred strange noises to which daylight ears are deaf. Yet as long as I was in the open water I felt bold enough. I kept my tremors for the moment when we should brush through the rustling belt of reeds, and the willows should whisper about our heads, and the rank vege- tation, the mysterious darkness of the mere should shut us in. For a time I was to be spared this. Master Lindstrom suddenly stopped rowing. "We have forgotten to bring a stone, lad," he said in a low voice. "A stone?" I answered, turning. I was pulling the stroke oar, and my back was toward him. "Do we want a stone?" "To sink the body," he replied. "We cannot bury it in the marsh, and if we could it were trouble thrown away. We must have a stone." "What is to be done?" I asked, leaning on my oar and shivering, as much in impatience as nervousness. "Must we go back?" "No, we are not far from the causeway now," he an- swered, with Dutch coolness. "There are some big stones, I fancy, by the end of the bridge. If not, there are some lying among the cottages just across the bridge. Your eyes no THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. are younger than mine, so you had better go. I will pull on, and land you." I assented, and the boat's course being changed a point or two, three minutes' rowing laid her bows on the mud, some fifty yards from the landward bend of the bridge, and just in the shadow of the causeway. I sprang ashore and clambered up. "Hist!" he cried, warning me as I was about to start on my errand. "Go about it quietly. Master Francis. The people will probably be in bed. But be secret." I nodded and moved off, as warily as he could desire. I spent a minute or two peering about the causeway, but I found nothing that would serve our purpose. There was no course left then but to cross the planks, and seek what I wanted in the hamlet. Remembering how the timbers had creaked and clattered when I went over them in the day- light, I stole across on tiptoe. I fancied I had seen a pile of stones near one of the posts at that end, but I could not find them now, and after groping about a while — for this part was at the moment in darkness — I crept cautiously past the first hovel, peering to right and left as I went. I did not like to confess to myself that I was afraid to be alone in the dark, but that was nearly the truth. I was feverishly anxious to find what I wanted and return to my companion. Suddenly I paused and held my breath. A slight sound had fallen on my ears, nervously ready to catch the slightest. I paused and listened. Yes, there it was again ; a whisper- ing of cautious voices close by me, within a few feet of me. I could see no one. But a moment's thought told me that the speakers were hidden by the farther corner of the cot- tage abreast of which I stood. The sound of human voices, the assurance of living companionship, steadied my nerves, and to some extent rid me of my folly. I took a step to one side, so as to be more completely in the shadow cast by the reed-thatched eaves, and then softly advanced until I commanded a view of the whisperers. They were two, a man and a woman. And the woman was of all people Dymphna! She had her back to me, but she stood in the moonlight, and I knew her hood in a mo- ment. The man — surely the man was Van Tree then, if The woman was Dymphna? I stared. I felt sure it must be Van Tree. It was wonderful enough that Dymphna should THE FACE IN THE PORCH. Ill SO far have regained nerve and composure as to rise and come out to meet him. But in that case her conduct, though strange, was explicable. If not, however, if the man were not Van Tree Well, he certainly was not. Stare as I might, rub my eyes as I might, I could not alter the man's figure, which was of the tallest, whereas I have said tHat the young Dutchman was short. This man's face, too, though it was obscured as he bent over the girl by his cloak, which was pulled high up about his throat, was swarthy ; swarthy and beardless, I made out. More, his cap had a feather, and even as he stood still I thought I read the soldier in his attitude. The soldier and the Spaniard ! What did it mean? On what strange combination had I lit? Dymphna and a Spaniard! Impossible. Yet a thousand doubts and thoughts ran riot in my brain, a thou- sand conjectures jostled one another to get uppermost. What was I to do? What ought I to do? Go nearer to them, as near as' possible, and listen and learn the truth? Or steal back the way I had come, and fetch Master Lind- strom? But first, was it certain that the girl was there of her own free will? Yes, the question was answered as soon as put. The man laid his hand gently on her shoulder. She did not draw back. Confident of this, and consequently of Dymphna's bodily safety, I hesitated, and was beginning to consider whether the best course might not be to withdraw and say nothing, leaving the question of future proceedings to be decided after I had spoken to her on the morrow, when a movement diverted my thoughts. The man at last raised his head. The moonlight fell cold and bright on his face, displaying every feature as clearly as if it had been day. And though I had only once seen his face before, I knew it again. And knew him ! In a second I was back in England, look- ing on a far different scene. I saw the Thames, its ebb tide rippling in the sunshine as it ripples past Greenwich, and a small boat gliding over it, and a man in the bow of the boat, a man with a grim lip and a sinister eye. Yes, the tall soldier talking to Dymphna in the moonlight, his cap the cap of a Spanish guard, was Master Clarence ! the Duchess's chief enemy! 112 THE STOR Y OF FRANCIS CL UDDE. I stayed my foot. With a strange settling into resolve of all my doubts I felt if my sword, which happily I had brought with me, was loose in its sheath, and leaned for- ward scanning him. So he had tracked us! He was here! With wonderful vividness I pictured all the dangers which menaced the Duchess, Master Bertie, the Lindstroms, my- self, through his discovery of us, all the evils which would befall us if the villain went away with his tale. Forgetting Dymphna's presence, I set my teeth hard together. He should not escape me this time. But man can only propose. As I took a step forward, I trod on a round piece of wood which turned under my foot, and I stumbled. My eye left the pair for a second. When it returned to them they had taken the alarm. Dymphna had started away, and I saw her figure retreating swiftly in the direction of the house. The man poised himself a mo- ment irresolute opposite to me ; then dashed aside and dis- appeared behind the cottage. I was after him on the instant, my sword out, and caught sight of his cloak as he whisked round a corner. He dodged me twice round the next cottage, the one nearer the river. Then he broke away and made for the bridge, his object evidently to get off the island. But he seemed at last to see that I was too quick for him — as I certainly was — and should catch him half way across the narrow plank- ing; and changing his mind again he doubled nimbly back and rushed into the open porch of a cottage, and I heard his sword ring out. I had him at bay. At bay indeed! But ready as I was, and resolute to cap- ture or kill him, I paused. I hesitated to run in on him. The darkness of the porch hid him, while I must attack with the moonlight shining on me. I peered in cautiously. "Come out!" I cried. "Come out, you coward!" Then I heard him move, and for a moment I thought he was coming, and I stood a-tiptoe waiting for his rush. But he only laughed a derisive laugh of triumph. He had the odds, and I saw he would keep them. I took another cautious step toward him, and shading my eyes with my left hand, tried to make him out. As I did so, gradually his face took dim form and shape, confronting mine in the darkness. I stared yet more intently. The face became more clear. Nay, with a sudden leap into THE FACE IN THE PORCH. 113 vividness, as it were, it grew white against the dark back- ground — white and whiter. It seemed to be thrust out nearer and nearer, until it almost touched mine. It — his face? No, it was not his face ! For one awful moment a terror, which seemed to still my heart, glued me to the ground where I stood, as it flashed upon my brain that it was another face that grinned at me so close to mine, that it was another face I was looking on ; the livid, bloodstained face and stony eyes of the man I had killed! With a wild scream I turned and fled. By instinct, for terror had deprived me of reason, I hied to the bridge, and keeping, I knew not how, my footing upon the loose clatter- ing planks, made one desperate rush across it. The shim- mering water below, in which I saw that face a thousand times reflected, the breeze, which seemed the dead man's hand clutching me, lent wings to my flight. I sprang at a bound from the bridge to the bank, from the bank to the boat, and overturning, yet never seeing, my startled com- panion, shoved off from the shore with all my might — and fell a-crying. A very learned man, physician to the Queen's Majesty has since told me, when I related this strange story to him, that probably that burst of tears saved my reason. It so far restored me at any rate that I presently knew where I was — cowering in the bottom of the boat, with my eyes cov- ered ; and understood that Master Lindstrom was leaning over me in a terrible state of mind, imploring me in mingled Dutch and English to tell him what had happened. "I have seen him!" was all I could say at first, and I scarcely dared remove my hands from my eyes. "I have seen him!" I begged my host to row away from the shore, and after a time was able to tell him what the matter was, he sitting the while with his arm round my shoulder. ' 'You are sure that it was the Spaniard?" he said kindly, after he had thought a minute. "Quite sure," I answered shuddering, yet with less vio- lence. "How could I be mistaken? If you had seen him " "And you are sure — did you feel his heart this morning? Whether it was beating?" "His heart?" Something in his voice gave me courage to look up, though I still shunned the water, lest that dread- 1 14 THE STOR Y OP FRANCIS CLUDDE. ful visage should rise from the depths. "No, I did not touch him." "And you tell me that he fell on his face. Did you turn him over?" "No." I saw his drift now. I was sitting erect. My brain began to work again. "No," I admitted; "I did not." "Then how " asked the Dutchman roughly — "how do you know that he was dead, young sir? Tell me that." When I explained, "Bah!" he cried. "There is nothing in that! You jumped to a conclusion. I thought a Span- iard's head was harder to break. As for the blood coming from his mouth, perhaps he bit his tongue, or did any one of a hundred things — except die. Master Francis. That you may be sure is just what he did not do." "You think so?" I said gratefully. I began to look about me, yet still with a tremor in my limbs, and an in- clination to start at shadows. "Think?" he rejoined, with a heartiness which brought conviction home tome; "lam sure of it. You may de- pend upon it that Master Clarence, or the man you take for Master Clarence — who no doubt was the other soldier seen with the scoundrel this morning — found him hurt late in the evening. Then, seeing him in that state, he put him in the porch for shelter, either because he could not get him to Arnheim at once, or because he did not wish to give the alarm before he had made his arrangements for netting your party." "That is possible!" I allowed, with a sigh of relief. "But what of Master Clarence?" "Well," the old man said; "let us get home first. We will talk of him afterward." I felt he had more in his mind than appeared, and I obeyed; growing ashamed now of my panic, and looking forward with no very pleasant feelings to hearing the story narrated. But when we reached the house, and found Master Bertie and the Duchess in the parlor waiting for us — they rose startled at sight of my face — he bade me leave that out, but tell the rest of the story. I complied, describing how I had seen Dymphna meet Clarence, and what I had observed to pass between them. The astonishment of my hearers may be imagined "The THE FACE IN THE PORCH "S point is very simple," said our host coolly, when I had, in the the face of many exclamations and some incredulity, com- pleted the tale; "it is just this! The woman certainly was not Dymphna. In the first place, she would not be out at night. In the second place, what could she know of your Clarence, an Englishman and a stranger? In the third place, I will warrant she has been in her room all the even- ing. Then if Master Francis was mistaken in the woman, may he not have been mistaken in the man? That is the point." "No," I said boldly. "I only saw her back. I saw his face." "Certainly, that is something," Master Lindstrom ad- mitted reluctantly. "But how many times had you seen him before?" put in my lady very pertinently. "Only once. ' * In answer to that I could do no more than give further assurance of my certainty on the point. "It was the man I saw in the boat at Greenwich," I declared positively. "Why should I imagine it?" "All the same, I trust you have," she rejoined. "For, if it was indeed that arch scoundrel, we are undone." "Imagination plays us queer tricks sometimes," Master Lindstrom said, with a smile of much meaning. **But come, lad, I will ask Dymphna, though I think it useless to do so. For whether you are right or wrong as to your friend, I will answer for it you are wrong as to my daugh- ter." He was rising to go from them for the purpose, when Mistress Anne opened the door and came in. She looked somewhat startled at finding us all in conclave. "I thought I heard your voices," she explained timidly, standing be- tween us and the door. "I could not sleep." She looked indeed as if that were so. Her eyes were very bright, and there was a bright spot of crimson in each cheek. "What is it?" she went on abrputly, looking hard at me and shutting her lips tightly. There was so much to explain that no one had taken it in hand to begin. "It is just this," the Duchess said, opening her mouth with a snap. "Have you been with Dymphna all the time?" "Yes, of course," was the prompt ans>ver. "What is she doing?" ii6 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLIJDDE, "Doing?" Mistress Anne repeated in surprise. "She is asleep." "Has she been out since nightfall?" the Duchess con- tinued. "Out of her room? Or out of the house?" "Out? Certainly not. Before she fell asleep she was in no state to go out, as you know, though I hope she will be all right when she awakes. Who says she has been out?" Anne added sharply. She looked at me with a challenge in her eyes, as much as to say, "Is it you?" "I am satisfied," I said, "that I was mistaken as to Mis- tress Dymphna. But I am just as sure as before that I saw Clarence." "Clarence?" Mistress Anne repeated, starting violently, and the color for an instant fleeing from her cheeks. She sat down on the nearest seat. "You need not be afraid, Anne," my lady said smiling. She had a wonderfully high courage herself. "I think Mas- ter Francis was mistaken, though he is so certain about it." "But where— where did he see him?" the girl asked. She still trembled. Once more I had to tell the tale ; Mistress Anne, as was natural, listening to it with the liveliest emotions. And this time so much of the ghost story had to be introduced — for she pressed me closely as to where I had left Clarence, and why I had let him go — that my assurances got less credence than ever. "I think I see how it is," she said, with a saucy scorn that hurt me not a little. "Master Carey's nerves are in much the same state to-night as Dymphna's. He thought he saw a ghost, and he did not. He thought he saw Dymphna, and he did not. And he thought he saw Master Clarence, and he did not." "Not so fast, child!" cried the Duchess sharply, seeing me wince. "Your tongue runs too freely. No one has had better proofs of Master Carey's courage — for which I will answer myself — than we have!" "Then he should not say things about Dymphna!" the young lady retorted, her foot tapping the floor, and the red spots back in her cheeks. "Such rubbish I never heard!" CHAPTER XI. A FOUL BLOW. THEY none of them believed me, it seemed; and smart- ing under Mistress Anne's ridicule, hurt by even the Duchess's kindly incredulity, what could I do? Only assert what I had asserted already, that it was undoubtedly Clarence, and that before twenty-four hours elapsed they would have proof of my words. At mention of this possibility Master Bertie looked up. He had left the main part in the discussion to others, but now he intervened. "One moment!" he said. "Take it that the lad is right, Master Lindstrom. Is there any pre- caution we can adopt, any back door, so to speak, we can keep open, in case of an attempt to arrest us being made? What would be the line of our retreat to Wesel?" "The river," replied the Dutchman promptly. "And the boats are all at the landing-stage?" "They are, and for that reason they are useless in an emergency," our host answered thoughtfully. "Knowing the place, any one sent to surprise and arrest us would secure them first, and the bridge. Then they would have us in a trap. It might be well to take a boat round, and moor it in the little creek in the farther orchard," he added, rising. "It is a good idea, at any rate. I will go and do it." He went out, leaving us four — the Duchess, her husband, Anne, and myself — sitting round the lamp. "If Master Carey is so certain that it was Clarence," my lady began, "I think he ought to " "Yes, Kate?" her husband said. She had paused and seemed to be listening. "Ought to open that letter he has!" she continued im- petuously. "I have no doubt it is a letter to Clarence. Now the rogue has come on the scene again, the lad's scru- ples ought not to stand in the way. They are all nonsense. The letter may throw some light on the Bishop's schemes and Clarence's presence here; and it should be read. That is what I think." "What do you say, Carey?" her husba'nd asked, as I kept silence. "Is not that reasonable?" iig THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. Sitting with my elbows on the table, I twisted and un- twisted the fingers of my clasped hands, gazing at them the while as though inspiration might come of them. What was I to do? I knew that the three pairs of eyes were upon me, and the knowledge distracted- me, and prevented me really thinking, though I seemed to be thinking so hard. "Well," I burst out at last, "the circumstances are cer- tainly altered. I see no reason why I should not " Crash ! I stopped, uttering an exclamation, and we all sprang to our feet. "Oh, what a pity!" the Duchess cried, clasping her hands. "You clumsy, clumsy girl! What have you done?" Mistress Anne's sleeve as she turned had swept from the table a Florentine jug, one of Master Lindstrom's greatest treasures, and it lay in a dozen fragments on the floor. We stood and looked at it, the Duchess in anger. Master Bertie and I in comic dismay. The girl's lip trembled, and she turned quite white as she contemplated the ruin she had caused. "Well, you have done it now!" the Duchess said piti- lessly. What woman could ever overlook clumsiness in another woman! "It only remains to pick up the pieces, miss. If a man had done it — but there, pick up the pieces. You will have to make your tale good to Master Lindstrom afterward." I went down on my knees and helped Anne, the annoy- ance her incredulity had caused me forgotten. She was so shaken that I heard the bits of ware in her hand clatter together. When we had picked up all, even to the smallest piece, I rose, and the Duchess returned to the former sub- ject. "You will open this letter, then?" she said; "I see you will. Then the sooner the better. Have you got it about you?" "No, it is in my bedroom," I answered. "I hid it away there, and I must fetch it. But do you think," I con- tinued, pausing as I opened the door for Mistress Anne to go out with her double handful of fragments, "it is abso- lutely necessary to read it, my lady?" "Most certainly," she answered, gravely nodding with each syllable, "I think so. I will be responsible." And Master Bertie nodded also. A FOUL BLOW. 119 **So be it,** I said reluctantly. And I was about to leave the room to fetch the letter — my bedroom being in a differ- ent part of the house, only connected with the main build- ing by a covered passage — when our host returned. He told us that he had removed a boat, and I stayed a while to hear if he had anything more to report, and then, finding he had not, went out to go to my room, shutting the door behind me. The passage I have mentioned, which was merely formed of rough planks, was very dark. At the nearer end was the foot of the staircase leading to the upper rooms. Farther along was a door in the side opening into the garden. Go- ing straight out of the lighted room, I had almost to grope my way, feeling the walls with my hands. When I had about reached the middle I paused. It struck me that the door into the garden must be open, for I felt a cold draught of air strike my brow, and saw, or fancied I saw, a slice of night sky and the branch of a tree waving against it. I took a step forward, slightly shivering in the night air as I did so, and had stretched out my hand with the intention of closing the door, when a dark form rose suddenly close to me, I saw a knife gleam in the starlight, and the next mo- ment I reeled back into the darknesss of the passage, a sharp pain in my breast. I knew at once what had happened to me, and leaned a moment against the planking with a sick, faint feeling, say- ing to myself, "I have it this time!" The attack had been so sudden and unexpected, I had been taken so completely off my guard, that I had made no attempt either to strike or to clutch my assailant, and I suppose only the darkness of the passage saved me from another blow. But was one needed? The hand which I had raised instinctively to shield my throat was wet with the warm blood trickling fast down my breast. I staggered back to the door of the par- lor, groped blindly for the latch, seemed to be an age find- ing it, found it at last, and walked in. The Duchess sprang up at sight of me. "What," she cried, backing from me, "what has happened?" "I have been stabbed," I said, and I sat down. It amused me afterward to recall what they all did. The Dutchman stared, my lady screamed loudly, Master Bertie I20 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. whipped out his sword ; he could make up his mind quickly- enough at times, **I think he has gone," I said faintly. The words brought the Duchess to her knees by my chair. She tore open my doublet, through which the blood was oozing fast. I made no doubt that I was a dead man, for I had never been wounded in this way before, and the blood scared me. I remember my prevailing idea was a kind of stunned pity for myself. Perhaps later — I hope so — I should have come to think of Petronilla and my uncle and other people. But before this stage was reached, the Duchess reassured me, "Courage, lad!" she cried heartily. "It is all right, Dick. The villain struck him on the breastbone an inch too low, and has just ripped up a scrap of skin. It has blooded him for the spring, that is all. A bit of plaster " "And a drink of strong waters," suggested the Dutch- man soberly — his thoughts were always to the point when they came. . "Yes, that too," quoth my lady, "and he will be all right." I thought so myself when I had emptied the cup they offered me. I had been a good deal shaken by the events of the day. The sight of blood had further upset me. I really think it possible I might have died of this slight hurt and my imagination, if I had been left to myself. But tlie Duchess's assurance and the draught of schnapps, which seemed to send new blood through my veins, made me feel ashamed of myself. If the Duchess would have let me, I would at once have gone to search the premises ; as it was, she made me sit still while she ran to and fro for hot water and plaster, and the men searched the lower rooms and secured the door afresh. "And so you could see nothing of him?" our host asked, when he and Master Bertie returned, weapons in hand. "Nothing of his figure or face?" "Nothing, save that he was short," I answered; "shorter than I am, at any rate, and I fancy a good deal." "A good deal shorter than you are?" my lady said un- easily; "that is no clew. In this country nine people out of ten are that. Clarenc'*^ now, is not." A FOUL BLOW. 121 *'No," I said; "he is about the same height. It was not Clarence." "Then who could it be?" she muttered, rising, and then with a quick shudder sitting down again. "Heaven help us, we seem to be in the midst of foes! What could be the motive? And why should the villain have selected you? Why pick you out?" Thereupon a strange thing happened. Three pairs of English eyes met, and signaled a common message eye to eye. No word passed, but the message was "Van Tree!" When we had glanced at one another we looked all of us at our host — looked somewhat guiltily. He was deep in thought, his eyes on the stove ; but he seemed to feel our gaze upon him, and he looked up abruptly. "Master Van Tree " he said, and stopped. "You know him well?" the Duchess said, appealing to him softly. We felt a kind of sorro\y for himj and some delicacy, too, about accusing one of his countrymen of a thing so cowardly. "Do you think it is possible," she con- tinued with an effort — "possible that he can have done this, Master Lindstrom?" "I have known him from a boy," the merchant said, looking up, a hand on either knee, and speaking with a simplicity almost majestic, "and never knew him do a mean thing, madam. I know no more than that." And he looked round on us. "That is a good deal; still, he went off in a fit of jeal- ousy when Master Carey brought Dymphna home. We must remember that." "Yes, I would he knew the rights of that matter," said the Dutchman heartily. "And he has been hanging about the place all day," my lady persisted. "Yes," Master Lindstrom rejoined patiently; "yet I do not think he did this." "Then who did?" she said, somewhat nettled. That was the question. I had my opinion, as I saw Mas- ter Bertie and the Duchess had. I did not doubt it was Van Tree. Yet a thought struck me. "It might be well," I suggested, "that some one should ask Mistress Anne whether the door was open when she left the room. She passed out just in front of me." 122 THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. "But she does not go by the door," my lady objected. "No, she would turn at once and go upstairs," I agreed. "But she could see the door from the foot of the stairs — if she looked that way, I mean." The Duchess assented, and went out of the room to put the question. We three, left together, sat staring at the dull flame of the lamp, and were for the most part silent, Master Bertie only remarking that it was after midnight. The suspicion he and I entertained of Van Tree's guilt seemed to raise a barrier between us and our host. My wound, slight as it was, smarted and burned, and my head ached. After midnight, was it? What a day it had been! When the Duchess came back, as she did in a few min- utes, both Anne and Dymphna came with her. The girls had risen hastily, and were shivering with cold and alarm. Their eyes were bright, their manner was excited. They were full of sympathy and horror and wonder, as was natural ; of nervous fear for themselves, too. But my lady cut short their exclamations. "Anne says she did not notice the door," she said. "No," the girl answered, trembling visibly as she spoke. "I went up straight to bed. But who could it be? Did you see nothing of him as he struck you? Not a feature? Not an outline?" "No," I murmured. "Did he not say a word?" she continued, with strange insistence. "Was he tall or short?" Her dark eyes dwell- ing on mine seemed to probe my thoughts, as though they challenged me to keep anything back from her. "Was it the man you hurt this morning?" she suggested. "No," I answered reluctantly. "This man was short." "Short, was he? Was it Master Van Tree, then?" We, who felt also certain that it was Van Tree, started, nevertheless, at hearing the charge put into words before Dymphna. I wondered, and I think the others did, too, at Mistress Anne's harshness. Even my lady, so blunt and outspoken by nature, had shrunk from trying to question the Dutch girl about her lover. We looked at Dymphna, wondering how she would take it. We had forgotten that she could not understand English. But this did not serve her ; for without a pause Mistress Anne turned to her, and unfalteringly said something in her A FOUL BLOW. 123 scanty Dutch which came to the same thing. A word or two of questioning and explanation followed. Then the mean- ing of the accusation dawned at last on Dymphna's mind. I looked for an outburst of tears or protestations. Instead, with a glance of wonder and great scorn, with a single indig- nant widening of her beautiful eyes, she replied by a curt Dutch sentence. "What does she say?" my lady exclaimed eagerly. "She says," replied Master Lindstrom, who was looking on gravely, "that it is a base lie, madam." On that we became spectators. It seemed to me, and I think to all of us, that the two girls stood apart from us in a circle of light by themselves ; confronting one another with sharp glances as though a curtain had been raised from between them, and they saw one another in their true colors and recognized some natural antagonism, or, it might be, some rivalry each in the other. I think I was not peculiar in feeling this, for we all kept silence for a space as though expecting something to follow. In the middle of this' silence there came a low rapping at the door. One uttered a faint shriek; another stood as if turned to stone. The Duchess cried for her child. The rest of us looked at one another. Midnight was past. Who could be abroad, who could want us at this hour? As a rule we should have been in bed and asleep long ago. We had no neighbors save the cotters on the far side of the island. We knew of no one likely to arrive at this time with any good intent. *T will open," said Master Lindstrom. But he looked doubtfully at the women-folk as he said it. "One minute," whispered the Duchess. "That table is solid and heavy. Could you not " "Put it across the door?" concluded her husband. "Yes, we will." And it was done at once, the two men — my lady would not let me help — so arranging it that it prevented the door being opened to its full width. "That will stop a rush," said Master Bertie with satisfac- tion. It did strengthen the position, yet it was a nervous mo- ment when our host prepared to lower the bar. "Who is there?" h