UC-NRLF B 3 331 flMb POPDLiB WOBKfl er CAPTAIN JIAYNE REID. 1, THB 80ALP HTTBTBB^ S. THB WAB TRAIL. 8b THB hunter's FBAST. 4b THB HGBR HUNTBR. 5. OSCBOLA, TTS SEHISOUL 6w THB QUADROON. 7. RANGBRS AND BEGULATOBft 8L THB WHITE GAUNTLBT, 9. WILD LIFB. 10. THE HEADLESS HOBSntAlk II* LOST LENORB. IS. TKT. WOOD BANGBBH. 18. THB WHITE CHIEF. 14 THB WILD HUNTRBS8, 15. THE MAROON. 16. THB BIFLB RANGIJRB. HtSHatat Kayne Raid's works are ot an inUnmHj In m$ and fascinatiug character. Nearly all ot t OOtDg founded upon eome historical rrent, Um^ ponees a permanent yalne while preMOtiaf A ttoilling, earnest, ^da«hing flcUon anf' paaaied by no noyel of too day. Ail issued uniform with this volume. Price, J1.50 each, and sent free by mail, on receipt of price, \>y «. W. DILLINGHAM, PUBLISHER, 8UC0E880R TO G. W. CARLETON & CO., New York. The White Gauntlet. 3, KooeL By captain MAYNE EEID, AtJ^-HOR OP "the scalp HUNTERS," — *' THE RIFLE RANGEHS/' — "THB TIGER HUNTER," — '*THE WAR TRAIL," ** THE WHITE CHIEF,'* **THE hunter's feast," — *' THE WILD HUNTRESS," — *'THK WOOD RANGERS," — *' WILD LIFE," — '* THE MAROON,"— ** OSCEOLA THE SEMINOLE," — " THE WHITE GAUNT- ^ LET," — ** THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN," — ETC., ETC., ETC. l^'^M >&. NEW YORK: G. fT. Dillingham, Publis/tet Successor to G. W. Carleton & Co MX^CCCKCIL CONTENTS. I.~MiJtioK Wadb, • . 7 II. — But Danobt, . • . 12 III. — ^A Suspicious Lovkb, .<♦..,••, 18 IV.--THB Cousins, . 19 v.— Walter Wadb, , 22 VI.— "The Kino!" ^7 Vn.— "The People !" 32 Till. — ^Thb Black Horseman, ........ 86 IX. — "Stand and Deliver!** 46 X. — ^An Invitation, 53 XI. — ^A Queer Valedictory, 57 XII. — Stripping a Courtier, 60 XIII. — ^The FiTB Champetre, 66 XIV.— Forward— March, • . 69 XV. — Thb Black Horseman! .••.•••• 73 XVI.— Thb Lovb Token, 80 XVII.— The Morris Dancers, 83 XVIII.— Thb Defiance, . 88 XIX.~Thb Prelude, 94 XX.— The Combat, . 98 XXI.— Stonb Dban, .......... 105 XXII. — ^The Footpad's Confession,- • • • • • 110 XXIII. — ^A Dispatch from John, . . c • . 119 XXIV —A Trio cf Couriers, 127 XXV. — In Country Quarters, . .•••••« 136 XXVI.— The Boudoir, .... 144 XXVII.— Ukdbb thb Tbbbs. • • • 149 Mi i QCM 00NTBK98. XXVlil. — ^A Jealous Eavesdropper, • 15^ XXIX. — AX( ESCOBTED OOUBIBB, • • • 164 XXX.— The Saracen's Head, • • . . 170 XXXI. — Dancey's Daughter, . • • • • • < ITS XXXII. — The Dispatch at Last, . • . ^ • • 184 XXXIII.— Will Walpoed, . . 194 XXXIV. — ^A Suspicious Departure, • • • - . . 205 XXXV. — A Treasonous Assembly, 212 XXXVI. — An Abbest Kesolyed Upon, 222 XXXVII. — Obiolb Suspicious, . 230 XXXVIII.— On the Tbail, 237 XXXIX.— Dancey in Dbink, 249 XL. — ^A Punishment Postponed, 257 XLI. — ^Tempting a Sentinel, 266 XLII. — Mutual Distbust, 273 XLIII.— A Pbison Visitob, 278 XLIV. — An Unexpected Encountee, 285 XLV.— Stobm and Calm, 299 XLVI.— Away— Away! 289 XLVII.— The Pursuit, 305 XLVIII.— Recaptured, 310 XLIX.— Two Travelers, 314 L.— The Escort, 319 LI.— The Rescue, 323 LIT. — After the Arrest, 332 LIII. — Going a Hawking, 337 LIV.— The Hawking Party, 345 LV. — ^The Return op the Gauntlef, . . • ,355 LVI. — Scarthe Rejected, 364 LVII. — Sib Mabmadukb in Teouble, 372 LVIIL— The Tbial, •...•. 380 UX.— The Faib Suppliant, ...•..• . S84 LX. — A Change op Quabtebs, • . . . . . 391 LXI.— Marston Moor, Z99 OHAPTIB I MABIOV WADI. A woman in % wood — encountered accidentally, and alon« ! *ni m encounter to challenge curiosity— even though she be but a gipsy, or a peasant girl gathering sticks. If a high-bom dame, beautiful — and, above all, bright-haired — cu- riosity is no longer the word ; but admiration, involuntary, unrestrain- ed — bordering upon adoration. It is but the instinct of man's heart to worship the fairest object upon which man's eye may rest ; and this is a beautiful woman, with bright hair, met in the middle of • wood. Marion Wade possessed all the conditions to merit such exalted admiration. She was high-bom, beautiful, and bright-haired. She was alone in a wood. It did not detract from the interest of the situation, that she waa mounted on a white horse, carried a hawk on her hand, and was fol- lowed by a hound. She was unaccompanied by human creature — ^hawk, hound, and horse being her only companions. It must have been her choice to be thus unattended. Wishing it, the daughter of Sir Marmaduke Wade might have had for esoort a ■core of retainers. Autumn was in tlis il^; and along with it m noonday sun. Tht golden light straggling through the leaves, was rellectefl upon a field of blue ; brilliant as the canopy whence it came. It was not the blue of the hyacinth, gleaming in the forest glade ; nor oC the mod- est violet that empurples the path. In October it cou'd not be either. More attractive was that cerulean tint, seen in the iris of ft woman'f •ye — ^the eye of Marion Wade. The sunbeams danced upon her yellow hair, with apparent delight^ kissing its tresses of kindred color — ^kissing her radiant cheek, that. •ven under the shadow of the trees, looked luminous. What does she in the wild wood unguarded — unattended? Is sh« •-hawking ? The "kestrel" perched upon her gloved hand should say, yes. But more than once, game has sprung up temptingly before her; and, still the hood has been suffered to stay upon the hawk; and its jes- ses are retained in leash. Has she lost her way — ^is she wandering? Equally unlikely. She is upon a path ; a noble park is in sight, with a road that runs parallel to its palings. Through the trees she can obtain glimpses of a stately mansion standing within its en- closure. It is the famed park of Bulstrode — ancient as Alfred the Great. As she is the mistress of its mansion, she cannot have losi her way. She cannot be wandering. And yet, why does she fret her palfrey in its paces — ^now check- ing, now urging it onward ? If not wandering in her way, surely she is astray in her thoughts ? She does not appear to be satisfied with the silent solitude of that forest path; she stops at short intervals, and leans forward in her saddle, as if listening for sounds. Her behavior would lead to the belief that she is expecting some OBie. A hoofstroke is heard. There is a horseman coming through the wood. He is not yet in sight; but the sound of his horse's hooi striking the solid turf tells that he is riding upon the track, and to- wards her. There is an opening in the forest glade, of some six roods in ex- tent. It is cut in twain by a path, which parts from the high road near one of the gates of Bulstrode Park; thence trending oyer thf hills in a northwesterly direction. On this path rides Marion Wade, straying, or dallying, 06rtainl| ■ot traveling. MARION \VAi)B. I She has entered the aforementioned opening. Vear its ceiurt stands a tree — ^a beech of magnificent dimensions — whose wide spreading boughs seem determined to canopy the whol'^i area of the opening. The road runs beneath its branches. Under its shadow the fair equestrian checks her palfry to a stand, AS if to shelter hawk, hound, and horse from the fervent rays of the noon-day sun. But no; her object is different. She has halted there to wait the Approach of the horseman ; and at this moment, neither hawk, hound, nor horse claims the slightest share of her thoughts. The horseman soon appears, cantering around a corner— a rust?.o In rude garb, astride of a common roadster ! Surely he is not the expected one of Marion Wade ? The question is answered by the scornful exclamation that escapes from her pouted lips. ** 'Sh ! I might have known by the clattering it T«Tasn't the foot* &11 of that noble steed. A peasant ! " The despised rustic rides on, as he passes making awkward obei •ance, by a spasmodic pluck at his forelock. His salutation is scarcely returned ; or only with a nod, apparently itfperciUous. He wonders at this ; for he knows that the lady is the daughter of Sir Marmaduke Wade — Mistress Marion — usually so sondescending to, and a favorite with all of his class. He cannot guess the chagrin he has given her. He is soon out of her sight ; and equally out of her thoughts ; for it Is not the sound of his departing hoofstrokes her ear is now requick- ened to catch ; but others of bolder bound, and clearer resonance, Awakening the echoes of the wood. These are soon heard more distinctly; and presently a second horseman appears, advancing around an angle of the road. A striking contrast does the new-comer present, to the rustic who has just ridden past. A cavalier of elegant carriage, spurred and pluHied ; mounted on a superb steed, of jet-black color, his counter elouted with flakes of snow-white froth, loosened from his cham- fering lips. A glance at the horse is suflScient to show that he is the " noble steed *' mentioned in that muttered soliloquy; and half a glance at the rider proclaims him the h dividual for whom Marion Wade bai been waiting. 10 MAOTOIT ^AT>1?. As yet she has not given Lim half a glanoe. She has not eret tamed her eyes in the direction whence he is approaching. She sits silent in her saddle, and to all appearance calmly indifier- •nt. But this air of insouciance is only assumed. The quivering of the kestrel, roosted upon her wrist, tells that she is tremhling ; while ihe high heaving of her hosom indicates the prescmce of some strong imotion. Going at a gentle gallop, the horseman glides out into the opening. Perceiving the lady, he checks his steed to a slower pace, as if to pass more respectfully. Marion continues to affect an air of non-ohservance, studied and Severe; though the cavalier coming forward is at that moment th* sdle subject of her thoughts. Her reflections will disclose the character of these thoughts, and en- able us to obtain an insight into the relations existing between these two splendid equestrians ; whom chance or design has broughx togeth- er on the lonely forest road. ** If he should speak to me," soliloquizes the lady, ** what shall I say to him? What can I? He must know that it is not accident that htis brought me hither, and now so often. If I thought he knew the truth, I should die of shame ! *' I wish him to speak, and yet I fear it. Ah ! there need be no fear. He will not. How many times has he passed me without % word ! And yet his glances, do they not tell me that he would— oh ! — ^this etiquette of oiu* high life, that without shame strangers may not be civil to one another ! " Would I were a peasant — and he the same— only handsome as he is now ! 'Tis Cfuel to be thus constrained by silly social custom. My sex, too, against me. I dare not speak first. Even in his eyes ii irould undo me ! " He is going to pass me as before ! Is there no w»y by which liiis painful reticence may be removed ? '* The fair equestrian appeared to ponder on some plan— only half- formed and half-resolved as her muttered reflections indicated. " Dare I do it ? What would my proud father say if he were to know ? Even gentle cousin Lora would chide me ! A stranger whose name I only know, and that's all. Perhaps not a gentleman 1 Oh — ^yes — ^yes — ^yes ! He cannot be other. He may not be a lord ol ttie land — but he is lord of my poor heart! I sannot restrain myself MAEION WaDE. 11 from soliciting him— eyen if it bring shame and repentant*. 1 shall 4oit— IshaUdoit!" The speech betrayed a firm determination. To do what J The act itself following close upon these words answered rtie ques- tion. With a quick jerk the lady dislodged the kestrel from its perch, tossing the bird to the neck of her palfrey — where it clung, dutching the snow-white mane. Then drawing off her glo\e, a whiti gauntlet, she dropped it negligently by her side — permitting it to slidt d#wn the skirt of her liding-dress. It fell into the middle of the road« A short moment intervened. The lady, apparently unconscious of the loss she has sustained, tightened the rein upon her palfrey; and with a slight touch of the whip, moved out from under the branches of the beech — ^her horse's head turned in a direction opposite to that in which the cavalier was approaching. At first she rode slowly apparently desirous of being overtaken. Presently she inciBased the pace ; then faster and faster ; until she went at a gallop — ^as though by a sudden change of thought she had de- termined to avoid an interview. The thick tresses of her golden hair escaping fi*om the comb swept down upon the croup behind her. The natural red of her cheeks had become heightened to the hue of carmine. It was the sufiusion of burning blushes. Her eyes were flashing with a strange excitement in an expression that spoke ol something like shame. She had repented of what she had done ; and dreaded to wait the consequence of the act ! For all that she was dying to look back, but dared not. A turn in the road, at length, offered her the opportunity. As she reined her palfrey around the corner^ she glanced towards the spot, where she had abandoned her glove. The tableau that saluted her eye was not displeasing. The cava- lier, bending down from his saddle, was just lifting the gauntlet upon the point of his glistening rapier. What would he do with it ? She waited not to see. Her palfrey passed behind the trees; and the horseman was hidden from her sight. On that splendid steed he might easily have overtaken her ; but, al* though listening as she rode on, she heard no hoofstroke behind her. She did not desire to be overtaken. For that day she had submit- ted herself to sufficient humiliation — self-administered — ^it is true ; but she slackened not the pace, till she had passed through the gates ol the park, iiid sighted t|ie walls of the patermU maosion. If BET DAKcacr. CHAPTER IL BET DAKOBT. If tumultuoiifl were the emotions of Marion Wade, m she let fUl that significant token; not less so were those of Henry Holtspur, bi he took ic up. Had the lady remained b moment longer looking back, she would have seen her gloye taken gently from the point of the cavaUer'g Bword, pressed with a wild fervor to his lips, and proudly placed Blongside the plume in the frontlet of his beaver. She only saw that her challenge had been accepted; and, with a thrill of sweet satisfaction, contending against a sense of shame, she had ridden rapidly away. The cavalier, equally gratified, appeared also perplexed : as if hesi- tating whether he should follow. But the abrupt departure of the lady seemed to say that pursuit was prohibited; and checking his ard- or, along with his steed, he remained by the tree, under the shadow oi which he had halted. For some minutes he sat in his saddle, apparently absorbed in re- flections. That they were not all of one character, was evinced by the expression upon his countenance; which kept continually chang- ing. Now it betokened triumph, with its concomitant pleasure; anon could be traced the lines that indicated doubt, accompanied by pain; and, once or twice, an expression that told of regret, or re/ziorse, was visible. These facial changes vtdll be better understood by giving in detail the thoughts that were causing them. " Was it intended for a challenge ? Can I doubt it ? Had the in- cident been alone, I might have deemed it accidental. But the many &:nes we have met — and upon this lone road! Why should she come this way, unless ? And her looks? On each occasion bolder and lovelier! Oh, how sweet to be thus favored ? How differ- ent from that oth#f love, that has had such unhappy ending ! Then I was prized but for my position, my prospects, and my fortune. When these fell from me, oikly to be forsaken ! " If she loves me, her love cannot rest on circumstances Uke these^ She knows me not — not even my name ! That she may have heard, ean suggest neither rank nor fortune, ffshe love tm, it ri}fusi ^ f^ jftjfself! *%}» a thrilling thought — ^thos to believe I ** BET DANCET. 13 The ej8 of the cav&lier lighted up with fta ixpresslon of triumph; tnd he sat proudly erect in his saddle. Only for a short time did he preserve this high attitude. Refleo tions of a far different character succeeded, dissipating the happiness lie had for the moment experienced. " She will know in time ! She must know ! Even I, myself, must tell her the terrible secret. And then what is to become of this sweet but transient dream ? It will be all over ; and, instead of her love, I shall become the object of her hatred — ^her scorn ! Oh God ! To think it must end thus ! To think that I have won, and yet ctQ never wear!" The features of the speaker became overspread with a deep gloom. ** Why did I enter upon this intrigue ? Why have I permitted it to proceed ? Why do I desire its continuance ? To all these ques- tions the answer is the same. Who could have resisted? Wh© could resist ? It is not in man's nature to behold such beauty, with- out yearning to possess it. As Heaven is my witness, I have strug- gled to subdue this unholy passion — ^to destroy it — to pluck it forth from my bosom. I have tried to shun the presence of her who in- spires it. Perhaps I might have succeeded ; had not she . Alas ! I have no longer the power to retreat. That is gone ; and the will aa weU. I must on— on— like the insect lured by some fatal light, to self-sought and certain destruction ! ' ' It was then that remorse became plainly depicted upon the coimte- nance of the cavalier. What could be causing it ? That was a secret h» scarcely dared declare to himself. ** After all," he continued, a new train of thought seeming to sug- . ge^t itself; **what if it be an accident — this, that has made me at onee so happy, and yet so wretched ? Her looks too — ^those glances tha^ have gladdened my heart, at the same time awaking within me n coosciousness of wrong-doing, as, too ardently, I gave them back— may I not have misinterpreted them ? If she intended that I should take up this glove — ^that I should restore it to her — ^why did she not •taj to receive it ? Perhaps I have been misconceiving her motives. After all, am I the victim of an illusion — following but an ignis fa- hma kindled by my own vanity ? ** At the moment the look of remorse gave place to one of chagrin. The cavalier apppeared no longer to regret being too much loved ; but rather that he might not be loved at all— a reflectiQ9 f^ more pain 14 " Surely I cannot be mistaken. I saw it on her hand but an iifltani before — ^with the hawk perched upon it. I saw her suddenljr fling the bird to the neck of the horse, and draw off the gauntlet, which the next moment fell from her fingers. Surely it was design." He raised his hand to his hat, took the glove from its place, and once more pressed it to his lips. " Oh, that her hand were in it ! " he enthusiastically exclaimed, yielding to a sweet &ncy. " If it were her fingers I held thus to my lips — ^thus unresisting— then might I beliere there was bliss upon earth ! " A footstep, falling upon his ear, interrupted the enraptured speech. It was light, betokening the proxloiity of a wom^ or rather tht presence of one ; for, on turning, his eye rested upon a female figure, standing by the side of his horse. The cavalier saw before him a comely face — and something more^ He might have deemed it beautiful ; but for that other, still present to his intellectual eye, and altogether engrossing his thoughts. It was a young girl who had thus silently intruded ; and one irorthy of a gracious reception, despite the peasant garb in which she had presented herself. Both face and figure were such as could not be regarded with in- difference, nor dismissed without reflection. Neither owed aught to Ihe adornment of art ; but to both had nature been liberal ; even to profuseness. A girl, closely approximating to womanhood ; largely framed, and finely developed — ^in arms, limbs, bust, and body, e^diibiting those oval outlines that indicate the possession of strong passions andpow- •rs. Such was the creature who stood by the horse of Henry Holtspur. But for their blackness, her eyes might have been likened to those of an eagle ; but for its softness, her hair resembled the tail of his own gt&dd— equally long and luxuriant ; and her teeth — ^there could havo been nothing whiter, even among the chalk of the Ghilterns^^hei native hills. Robed in silk, satm, or velvet; it was a form that would have doni ftc discredit to a queen. Encircled with pearls, or precious diamonds ; it was a foce of which a princess might be proud. Even in the or- iiuary homespun of a rustic gown, that form looked queenly — beneatb those glossy plaits of crow-black haii — bedecked with some freshly blacked flower8--th«t %ie might have inspired «nv^ in a priiioefls. BET T3tW0ET. 1ft ta the ^ance bestowed upon her by the cavalier there was no sigt —either of surprise, or admiration. It was simplj a look of recois* nition ; accompanied by a nod, acknowledging her presence. In the eye of the maiden, there was no such indifference. The iaost careless observer could have told, that she was in love with the nan upon whom she was now gazing. The horseman took no heed of her admiring glances. Perhaps h« Noticed them not. His attenuion was altogether given to an ob^3ct, rhich the girl held in her outstretched hand ; and which was instantly transferred to his. It was a letter, sealed, and directed to himself. '' Thanks !" said he, breaking open the seal. "Your father has brought this from Uxbridge, I suppose ? *' " He has, sir. He sent me with it ; and bid me ask you if there h% ma answer to go back. As you were not at the house, I brought it here. I hope I have done right, sir ! " " Oh, certainly ! But how did you know where to find me ? My tongueless attendant, Oriole, could not have told you ? " *' He made sign, sur, that you had taken this road. I thou^t I should meet you here ; and father said it might be important for yon to have the letter at once. " The red blood mantled higher upon the girl's cheeks, as she offered this explanation. She knew she had exceeded her father's instruo- iions ; which had been, simply, to leave the letter at " Stone Deane^" the residence of Henry Holtspur. The cavalier, occupied with the epistle, noticed neither her blusli- fB nor embarrassment. €€ 9T£^ ygpy considerate of you ;" said he, turning gratefully towards the girl, as he finished reading the letter. " Tour father has guessed eorrectly. It is of the greatest importance that I should have had this letter in good time. Tou may tell him that it needs no reply. I must answer it in person, and at once But say. Mistress Betsey ; irhat return can I make to you for this dnd service ? You want a ribbon for your beautiful black hair? What color is^ittobe? I think blue — such as those fiowers are— does not so well become you. Shall it be a red one ? " The words, though courteously intended, fell with an unpleasant effect upon the ear of her to whom they were addressed. They were not the speeches to which she would fain have listened. " Thanks, sir;" said she, in a tone that betrayed pique, or some other unlooked-for emotion. " A fine ribbon would scarce suit m/ loarse common hair. These flowers are good enou^ for it ! " 16 A 8U8PI0IOUB LOTEB. ** Ah Mistress Betsey ! Your beautiful tresses eaL bear this di» paragement; you know they are neither coarse nor common Nay, if you refuse the ribbon, you must accept the price of one. I cannot fcllow that the essential service you have done me should gc acre* irarded. Take this piece of gold, and make purchase with it t^ sm| yourself— scarf, gown or gloves — which ever you please.'* Somewhat to the cavaher's surprise, his hberal largess was rejected ^— not with scorn, but rather vrith an air of sadness — sufficiently mark* •d to have been noticed by him, had he not been altogether uusu»^ picious of the cause. " Well, well," said he, putting back the coin into his purse, " I am •orry you will not permit me to make some amends for your kind- ness. Perhaps I may find an opportunity on some future occasion- Meanwhile I must be gone. The letter you have delivered summons me hence — ^without delay. Many thanks. Mistress Betsey, and a fair good morning to you. " A touch of the spur caused his chafing steed to spring out into the middle of the road; and the rider, heading him for the highway that conducted towards Uxbridge, soon swept round the corner — at the same instant becoming lost to the sight of the dark-eyed damsel— whose glance, full of passion and disappointment, had followed him lo Ui« point of hia disappearance. CHAPTER III. A BVBTIOIOVB LOTIB. The girl listened awhile to the departing hoofstrokes, as they camt back with clear resonance from the hard causeway. Then dropping her eyes to the ground, she stood silent under a tree — ^her swartb eomplexion still further darkened by sombre shadows, now over- ipreading every feature of her face. Not long did she continue in this silent attitude. "I would have taken the ribbon," muttered she, "as a gift — ^if he luul miMnt it that way. But it wasn't so. No. It wasoaj(ya8toa^ef A SUBPI0I0U8 LOVBB. 1| kt offered it to me; and his money — ^that was worse I Had it leen a lock of his hair. Ah ! I would rather he gave i::;^ that than all tki gold coins in his purse, or all the silks in the shops of Uxbridge. "He called my hair beautiful; twice he said so ! ** Did he mean it ? Or was it only mocking of me ? I am sure 1 do not think so myself; though others have told me the pame. 1 wish it were fair, instead of dark, like that of Mistress Marion Wade Then, perhaps it would be beautiful ! "Blue don't become me, he says. Lie there, despised oolinrl Never more shall blue blossom be seen in the hair of Bet Dancey.** As she said this, she plucked the bunch of harebells from behind her comb; and flung the flowers at her feet. "It was Will, that gave them to me; " she continued. "He onl/ gathered them an hour ago. What if he were here to see them now } Ah ! what care I ? — ^what should I care ? I never gave him reasott- - not the least bit. They were worn to-day, not to please him; but ia hopes of pleasing one I do care for. Had I thought that that oni liked not blue, there were plenty of red ones in the old garden of Stone Dean. I might have gathered some as I came through it What a pity I didn't know the color he likes best !" " Ha ! " she exclaimed, starting forward upon the path ; and bend- ing down over the spot where the flowers had fallen — and where the dust showed signs of having been recently disturbed. " That is not the track of his horse. That little shoe — ^I know it — ^Mistreat Marion Wade ! '* For a second or two the speaker preserved her stooping attitude^ silently regarding the tracks. She saw they were fresh — that they had been made fresh that morning — ^in fact, within the hour. Hef father was a forester — a woodman by calling — at times, a Btealer of deer. She had been bom in the forest — ^brought up under the shadow of its trees. She was capable of interpreting that sign-^ too capable for the tranquillity of her spirit. "Mistress Marion has been here,** she muttered. "Of late, oflwi kaTe I seen these tracks, and twice the lady herself. What brings her along this lonely road ? What has she been doing here this morn- ing ? Could it be to meet him 1 ** She had no time to conjecture a response to this self-asked inters rogatory. As the words passed from her lips, her attention was attracted to the sound of hoofs — a horse moving at a gallop along the mam roa looks scornfully askance at the darker tresses of her sister in sin ! It is odd that blue eyes do not admire blue eyes — that light-col- ored tresses do not wish to be interwoven with those of a Uke hue. Is there an instinct of approximation between extremes ? Do con- trasts possess an innate desire for contiguity ? If so, it would ex- plain the penchant of the dark Athenians for the fair-skinned Oytherea. There are fair-haired youths whom men may admire ; and woman love. "Walter Wade was such a one. A forehead of fine expanse, crested with curling hair — a nose su^ ftoiently aquiline to exhibit the true aristocratic breed — a chin prom- inent — ^lips typical of contempt for aught that was mean. Such wer« his features. Gazing upon his face, you might not pronounce it handsome. For a man, it might appear too feminine. But if you were at all skilled in Saxon physiognomy, on seeing such a face, and knowing that tbe owner of it had a sister, you might safely set her down as a being of mcompasable beauty. It was not necessary to have overheard his soliloquy, to tell that he who made it, was the scion of some distinguished house. The good steed he bestrode, caparisoned in costly fashion ; the rich costume he wore ; his sharply chiseled featiures, and aristocratic bearing — all betokened the filiv^ nohilis. He was, in effect, the son of Sir Marmaduke Wade, of Bulstrode Park ; who could point to an ancestry older than the Conquest, and whose Saxon sires — along with the Bulstrodes, the Hampden s, and the Penns — ^had so doughtily defended their beechen woods and broad fields against the Norman invader, that the great Conqueror was pleased to compound vrith them for a continuance of their tenure It was a family with whom kings had never been favorites. It had figured among the barons, who had forced the tyrant John to set hia signal 11(3 to the celebrated Charter of English liberty ; and elsewhere have its representatives been found in the front rank oi ttM ehain^ ions of Freedom. It may be wondered why young Walter Wade had been in thi service of the Court — as declared in his soliloquy. That, however, tg easily explained. An ambitious mother, of queenly inclinations — an uncle in high ofiBce near the throne — these will account for the son :f Sir Marmaduke having stood as a page in the Presence. But the mother's influence was now at an end. She was no more. And that of her brother — the uncle — was not strong enough to pre« vent Sir Marmaduke recalling his son from a Court — whose immora- lity had become the theme of every tongue ; and whose contamination the fond father but so justly dreaded. This was why the stripling was on his return to the paternal man- sion ; and why the king had shown displeasure at parting with him. It was a bold act on the part of the knight ; and it might need all the influence of his ofl&cial brother-in-law, to avert from him the vengeance of Charles — that most contemptible of tyrants. I; was not upon these things that Widter Wade was reflecting, ai he rode onward. A pleasanter theme was the subjeot of bis thonghti — (lis oousin Lora. It was love's young dream — ^by some deemed the sweetest in lift is perhaps the most evanescent. With Walter, it had not been so very fleeting. Starting at sixteeiv it was now nearly three years old. It had stood the test of a long absence ; and under circumstances most unfavorable to love's endur- ance; amid smiling maids of honor, and dames of high degrea Yes ; Walter's heart had nobly repelled the blandishments of mor« than one belle; and this, too, in a court famed for its /air. That kiss, somewhat coyly granted by his cousin, " deep in a for- est dell, " where they had wandered in search of wild flowers — that soft pressure of Lora's little hand — those thrilling words, ** Dear Walter, " that on the same occasion had fallen from Lora's pretty lips — all were remembered, as if they had been incidents of yester- day. Did sJie remember them with equal interest ! This was the thought upon which Walter Wade had been dwellk^g ever since parting from the portals of Whitehall Palace. During his two years of absence, he had not been left altogether uninformed of what was passing at Bulstrode. Though in thos« days If tters were written at long intervals — and then only on mat "the kino!'' ^ teri oTgrett importance — Walter had kept up % correspondence with Marion; with whcm epistles had been exchanged regularly once • month. He dared not write to Lora — nor even about her. He knew what he said to his sister would be communicated to his little mis tress; and he feared to show himself too solicitous. Every word ia his letters, relating to his cousin, had been carefully studied — as to the impression it might produce— for m this sort of strategy, young love is as cunning as that of older hearts. At times the boy courtiei tven affected indifference about his cousin's affairs ; and more than once there was danger of a quarrel— or at least a coolness. This was more especially the case, when his sister — ^ignorant of the pain she was producing — spoke of Lora's great beauty ; and the havoc it was making among the hearts of the country beaux Perhaps had Marion passed these pretty compliments upon herself, ihe would have said nothing beyond what was true ; for, although Walter's cousin was beautiful, and a belle, hia aiater was at that tlM aoknowUdsed << belle of the shire '' CHAPTER TL For the first half mile after crossing the Colne, the thoughts of the joung courtier had been given exclusively to his cousin. He recalled Ihe old time — ^that scene in the silent dell — ^the kiss among the wild lowers- —that proved her partiality for him. He remembered all thes* eoourrenoes with a strong confidence in Lora's loyalty. His fanciful reflections were suddenly, and somewhat rudely in- terrupted. On arriving at an inn that stood by the roadside, a spectacle wa« presented to ^ sjes which turned his thoughts into a different channel. In a wide open space in fh)nt of the hostelry wa.s a troop of horse- men. By their armor and equipments, Walter knew them to hf wirt^aiirn, in ihe service of the king. 28 There were about fifty in the troop; and from the moTements oi the men, and the condition of their horses — still smoking from the aiarch — it was evident they had come to a halt only a few minutea before. The troopers had dismounted. Some of them were still occupied with their horses, helping them to provender ; while others, who had already performed this duty, were seated uncJ^r a huge old elm tree — joyously, as well as noisily, regaling themselves with such ebeer ai the hostelry afforded. A glance at these roisterers told the young cavalier who and what they were ; — ^a troop of the returned army from the north ; that had been lately, and somewhat clandestinely, brought southward by the king. This corps had originally been recruited in the Low Countries ; and among them were several foreigners. Indeed, the smaller number were Englishmen ; while there were many countenances of the true Gallic type; and a still larger proportion of those famed hirelings — who figured so largely in the wars of the time — the Walloons Amid the clamor of voices, with which the ears of the young courtier were assailed, he could hear French and Flemish commingled with his native tongue ; while the oaths peculiar to all three nations, thickly interlarding the conversation, told him that he was in the presence of a remnant of that army that '^ swore so terribly in Flanders." A crowd of the neighboring rustics had collected around the inn j and stood with mouths agape, and coimtenances expressing unlimited astonishment, at the sayings and doings of the strange steel-clad cava- liers who had dismounted in their midst. To Walter Wade, there was nothing either new or surprising In the spectacle. He had seer the like in London ; and often oi late. He had been expecting a ?' 'i a sight — ^partly from having heard, ia passing through Uxbri ' £ ', that a troop of horse was before him; and partly from having obsi ^ i ed their tracks along the dusty road upon which he had been trav '.: ig. lie did not know why > v v were going down into Buckinghamshire ; but that was the king's buciness, not his. In all likelihood they were on there way to Oxford, or some garrison town in the west ; and were making their night halt at the inn. Giving but a moment's thought to conjecture any of these, the young •ourtier was about riding past — ^without taking notice of the coarse "the KINOl'' 29 Jests flung towards him by the rough troopers .tider the tree — ^whefl ft voice of very different intonation, issuing from the door of the hod- teh-y, commanded him to halt. Ahnost simidtaneous with the command, two cavaliers stepped forth out of the inn ; and one of them, having advanced a few paces towards him, repeated the command. Partly taking by surprise at this rude summons — ^and partly be* lieving it to proceed from some old Court acquaintance — ^Walter drew bridle, and stopped. It was easy to tell that the two men, who had so brusquely brought themselves under his notice, were the officers in command of the troop. Their silken doublets — only partially concealed by the steel armor — ^their elegant Spanish leather boots, with lace ruffles at the tops ; the gold spurs upon their heels ; the white ostrich plumes waving above their helmets ; and the richly chased scabbards of their sworda — all indicated rank and authority. This was further mad© manifest by the tone of command in which they had spoken, and their bear- ing in presence of the troopers. The latter, on seeing them come forth from the house, desisted from their jargon, and, though they continued to pass their beer cans, tt was in a constrained and respectful silenee. The two officers wore their helmets ; but the visors of both wert open; and Walter could see their faces distinctly. He now perceived that neither of them was known to him ; though one of them he thought he had seen before, a few days before — only for a moment, and in conference with the Queen ! This was the older of the two, and evidently the senior in rank— the captain of the troop. He was a man of thirty, or thereabouts , with a face of dark complexion, and not unhandsome; but of a rakish expression that drink, and the indulgence of /evil passions, will im- print upon the noblest features. His had once been of the noblest — and still were they such that a gentleman need not have been asham- ed of— had it not been for a cast half cynical , half sinister, that could be detected in his eyes ; sadly detracting from a face otherwise well favored. Altogether H was a countenance of that changing kind, that, smiling, might captivate the heart ; but, scowling, could inspire it with fear. The younger nrAn — ^who from ^e insignia on his shoulder was a comet — ^presented a very different type of physiognomy. Though stiU only a youth, his countenance was repulsive in the extremeu Th«re 30 "the xmo!" ras no need to scan it closely, to arrive at this oonclus^oii. in thai reddish round face, shaded hj a scant thatch of straight haj-colored hair, you beheld at a glance a kindred compound of the stupid, the Tulgar, and the brutal. Walter Wade had never looked on that countenance before. It in* ■pired him with no wish to cultivate the acquaintance of its owner. If left to his own inclinations, the young eourtier would not have de- sired ever to look upon it again. "Your, wish? demanded he, rising proudly up la Itit stirrups, and 60 confronting the officer who had addressed him. " You have sum* moned me to stop— your wish ? " ** No offence, I hope, young gallant ? '' replied the cuirassier ci^tdoi ** None meant, I assure you. By the sweat upon your horse — ^not a bad-looking brute by-the-way. A good nag. Isn't he, Stubbs ? ** ** If sound, •• laconically rejoined the comet. "Oh! sound enough, no doubt, you incorrigible jockey! Well, youngster, as I was saying, the sweat upon your horse proves that you have ridden fast and far. Both you and he stand in need of re- freshment. We called to you, merely to offer the hospitality of the fain." " Thanks for your kindness, replied Walter, in a tone that sufficient* Ij expressed his true appreciation of the offer ; " but I must decline availing myself of it. I am not in need of any refreshment ; and af for my horse, a short five miles will bring him to a stable, vhere he will be well cared for.** ** Oh ! you are near the end of your journey, then f •• •* By riding five miles further I shall reach it.** "A visit to some country acquaintance, where you can enjoy the balmy atmosphere of the beech forests — ^have new-laid eggs every morning for breakfast, and new-pulled turnips along with your bacon for dinner, eh? '* The choler of the high-bred youth had been gradually mounting up- ward, and might soon have found vent in angry words. But Waltei Wtde was one of those happy spirits who enjoy a joke — even at their t^wn expense — and perceiving that his new acquaintances meanrt no fbrther mischief than the indulgence in a little idle badinagey he ro- pressed his incipient spleen, and replied in the same jocular and sa tiricai strain. After a sharp passage of words — in which the young courtier wai te from being worsted— he was on the point of riding onward; wbei '"the Kmrol" W the captain of the cuirassiers again proffered the hospitality of the bm hj inviting him to partake of a cup of burned sack which the landlord had just brought from the house. The offer was made with an air of studied politeness * and Walter, not caring to appear churlish, accepted it. He was about raising the goblet to his lips, whea his entertainera called for a toast. " What would you ? " asked the young courtier. <* Anything my gallant! Whateyer is uppermost in your mmd. Tour mistress, I presume ? " **0f course," chimed in the cornet. "His mistress of course.** " My mistress, then ! " said Walter, tasting the wine, and return- ing the cup to the hand from which he had received it. " Some pretty shepherdess of the Chilterns — some sweet wood nymph, no doubt ? well here's to her ! And now," continued the officer, without lowering the goblet from his lips, "since I've drunk to your mistress, you'll not refuse the same compliment to my master — ^the king. You won't object to that toast, will you ? " "By no means," replied Walter. "I drink it willin^y, though the king and I have not parted the best of friends." "Ha, ha, ha ! friends with the king! His Majesty has the honor of your acquaintance, eh ! " " I have been nearly three years in his sendee.** "A courtier?" " I have been page to the queen.** " Indeed ! perhaps you will have no objection to favor ns with ymif name ! " Not the slightest. My name is Wade — Walter Wad . " Son of Sur Marmaduke, of Bulstrode Park ? ** "lam.** " Ho, ho,** muttered the questioner, in a significant tone» and with A thoughtful glance at the young courtier. " I thought so," stammered the cornet, exchanging a look of k telligence with his superior officer. " Son to Sir Marmaduke, indeed ! '* continued the latter. " I chat case. Master Wade, we are likely to meet again, and perhaps yon will some day favor me with an introduction to your sweet shepherd ess. Ha, ha, ha! Now for the toast of every true Englishman— Thji Kiko !* ** Walter responded, iiko^t^ withno great willmgness; fi)r tbo tonf 38 "the people !** of the challenger, as well as his words, had produced a|iioii hia mi unpleasant impression. But the toast was one that, at ths time, it was not safe to decline drinking; and partly on this account, and partly because the young courtier had no very particular reason foi declining, he raised the goblet once more to his Ups, as he did so re- peating the words—-" To thb Kino." The comet drinking from a cup of his own, echoed the sentiment j and the troopers under the tree, clinking their beer measures togethoi vodforated in loud aodaim— *' Thb Kutq — ^Thb Kuro ! " OHAPTSR YIL ^TBM PKOPUl!** After this general declaration of loyalty, there was a lull— «a la terval of profound silence — such as usually succeeds the drinking al a toast. The silence was unexpectedly broken by a voice that had not yet mingled in the chorus, and which was now heard in clear firm tones, pronouncing a phrase of very different signification — " Thb Peoplb !" A sentiment so antagonistic to the one so late issuing from the lips of the troopers, produced upon them an instantaneous commotion. The soldiers, seated under the tree, started to their feet ; while the officers faced in the direction whence the voice had come — their eyea aagrily fiashing under the umbrils of their helmets. He who had so daringly declared himself was not concealed. A horseman, of elegant appearance, had just ridden up, and halted in the middle of the road ; where the landlord, apparently without or- ders, and as if accustomed to the service— was helping him to a goblet of wine. It was this horseman that called out — " The People ! ** In the enthusiasm of their loyalty, his arrival had either not been observed by the troopers — or at all events no notice had been taken of it— until the emphatic pronunciation fell upon their ears lik« the biirstmg of a bomb* Then all e^es were instantly iiurne^ t^^ im^ hinj. SI As ht gaye utterance to the phrase, he was fai the act of raising the wine cup to his lips. Without appearing to notice the eflfect which his speech had produced, he coolly quaffed off the wine and with like sangfroid returned the empty goblet to the giver. The defiant insolence of the act had so taking the troopers by sxir- prise, that they stood in their places— just as they had started up — silent and apparently stupefied. Even the officers, after hurrying for- ward, remained speechless for several seconds — as if under the in- fluence of an angry amazement. The only sounds for awhile heard were the voices of the spectators — tapsters, stable-helpers, and other Idlers — ^who had clustered in front of the inn — and who now formed an assemblage, as large as the troop itself. Despite the presence of the armed representatives of royalty, the ■entiments of these were unmistakably the same, as that to which the fltrange horseman had given voice ; and they were emphatically com- plimenting themselves, when they clinked their pewter pots, and in chorus proclaimed — "Thb People ! " Most of them, but the moment before, and with equal enthusiasm, had drunk "The King; *' but in this sudden change of sentiment they only resembled most politicians of modern times, who have been dignified with the name of " Statesmen ! " But even among these tapsters and stable-helpers, there were some who had refrained from being forced into a lip loyalty ; and who echoed the second sentiment with a fervent spirit, and a full knowledge of its everlasting antagonism to the first. When the ultimate syllable of this sacred phrase had died upon the ear of the assembled croud, it was succeeded by a silence ominous and expectant. Two individuals commanded the attention of all— the captain of the cuirassiers, and the horseman who had halted upon the road ; the toaster of the " King ; ' ' and the proposer of the " People ! " The soldier should speak first. It was to him that the challenge— if such he chose to consider it — ^had been flung forth. Had it been a rustic who had uttered it — one of the assembled crowd— even a freehold farmer of pnritanic pretensions — the cuiras- sier captain would have answered him on the instant, perhaps with steel added to the persuasion of his tongue But a cavalier, of broad bands, and gold spin's buckled over the Spanish leather boots, astride a noble steed, with a long rapier hanging handy anent his hip, was an individual not to be ridden over in such haste \ and one whos4 " argument " gnUed for consideration. 94 ** Zounds, sir ! '* eried the captain of the cuinussiers, stepping a spaot or two forvrard> ''from what Bedlam have you broken loose? Methinks you've been tasting too freely of the St. Giles's tap; and 'tis that which makes your speech smell so rankly. Come, fellow, uncover your head, and tune your tongue to a different strain. You go not hence till you've purged your traitorous throat by drinking tht toast of every true and loyal gentleman of England — * Thb Kino ! '" " Fellow indeed ! " exclaimed the cavalier, looking scornfully as- kance at him who had dictated the insulting proposition. " A fel- low ! " he continued in a calm but satirical tone ; '* not in the habit of drinking toasts with strangers. Yours is not to his liking, any more than your fashion. If he h^'^ the fancy to drink to £iigland'8 king, it would not be in the con .7 of those who have 4iigraced Ungland's fame — at the ford of J -^urn.** Gathering up his reins as he sp' > u and giving utterance to a taunt ing laugh, the strange horseman \ 4 ^sed the spur against the sides of his splendid steed ; and started f at a swinging gallop along the road. It was only when that laugh r in his ears that the cuirassier captain became roused to the full frenzy of rage ; and with eyes on fire, and brow black as midnight, he rushed forward, sword in handj in a frantic attempt to strike down the insulter. ** Disloyal knave ! '* cried he, lunging out to the full length of hia arm ; ** thou shalt drink the king's health in thine own blood ! Ha ! stop him ! " he continued, as the horseman glided beyond his reach —"My pistols! ** ** Ho, there ! " shouted he to his followers. " Your carabines ! Fire upon him ? Where are your weapons, you careless vagabonds ? To horse, and follow ! " " An' ye take my advice, masters,** put in the landlord of the inn —a sturdy tapster of independent speech — "ye '11 stay wheer ye are. An' ye doan't, ye'll be havin* yeer ride for nothin'. Ye maw't as well gie chase to a wild goose. He'll be two mile frae this 'fore you can git astride o' your nags.'* " What, varlet ! " cried the cuirassier captain turning furiously upon the speaker — " you presume * " Only, great coronel, to gie ye a bit o' sound a (vice. Ye ma' folia ft or no' an' ye pleeze ; but f ye folia him ye woi. 't catch him — not this night, I ^ow } though theer 6i a full moon to light ye on hit ¥ht t&r of imperturbable coolness with which the Saxon Bonifact made rejomder, instead of increasing the fury of tht officer, seemed rather to haye the effect of tranquilizing him. "You know him, then ? '* demanded he, in an altered tone *• Well, e-es ! a leetUsh bit only. He be one o' my customers ; and have his drink occasional as he passes by here. I know his horse >d tut better, mayhap. That be a anymal worth the kppwm*. I've teed him clear that geeat— it be six feet high— -moren once. Wee'vt leed him do it ; ain' we, lads ? " " That we have. Master Jarvis," replied several of the bystanders, to whom the appeal had been made. " E-ees indeed, great coronel,*' continued the landlord, once mor« addressing his speech to the captain of the cuirassiers ; " an if yer fellows want to foUa him, they maim be up to ridin* cross country A bit, or els e " " His name ! *' eagerly intemipted the officer ; " you know where the knave lives ? " " Not exactly— neyther one nor t'other ;" was the equivocal reply. •* As for his name, we only know him 'bout here as the Black Hors^ man ; an that he belongs some'ere among the hills up the Jarret'i Heath way — ^beyond the great park o' Bulstrode." " Oh ! he lives near Bulstrode, does he? " "Somer hot theere,! dar say." " I know where he lives," interposed one of the rustics who stood by. " It be a queery sort o' a place — a old red brick house; an* Stone Dean be the name o't. It lie in the middle o' the woods 'tween Beckenfield an' the two Ghaffonts. I can take ye theer, mas- ter officer, if ye be a wantin' to go." "Jem Biggs ! " said the landlord, slicing up to the last speaker, and whispering the words in his ear, "thee be a meddlin' 'ficious beggar. If thee go on such a errand, don't never agen show thy ugly mug in my taproom." " Enough ! " impatiently exclaimed the officer; "I dare say we shall easily find the fellow. Dismount, men," continued he, turning to some of the troopers, who had sprung into their saddles. " Re- turn your horses to their stalls. We may as well stay here for the night, he added in a whisper, to his cornet ; " it's no use going after liim till the morning. As the old prattler says, we might have our ride for nothing. Besides, there's that little appointment in Uxbridge. By the angel Gabriel ! I'll find the knave, if I should have to scoui ll THB BLAO^ HofiSEMAN. •rery comet of the county. More wine, landlord !— iurnt sack !-* and beer for these thirsty vagabonds ! We'll drink, * The King ' once more, with three times three. Ha ! where's our courtier ? Qon« too?" " He's just ridden off, captain ;" answered one of the troopers, stiD seated in his saddle. " Shall I gallop after, and bring him back ? " "No,** replied the officer, after a moment's consideration. "Let the stripling go his way. I know where he's to be found ; and shall do myself the honor of dining with him to-morrow. The wine ! Come! fill your cans, you right royal rascals, and drink — ' Th$ King!'' CHAPTER Vin. VSM BLACK HOBSBMAV. Desiroua of escaping from the disagreeable companionship— into irhich ke had been so unceremoniously, as well as imwillingly, drawn —the young courtier had taken advantage of the confusion, and trot- ted quietly away. On rounding a comer — ^beyond which the road was not visible from the inn — he put spurs to his horse, and urged the animal into a gal- top. Though he had given no offence, he was not without apprehension, that he might be followed, and summoned back ; for the brace of bul- lies, from whom he had just parted, appeared quite capable of com- mitting further outrage. He knew that, in the name of the king, ex- cesses were of every day occurrence. The monarch's minions had become accustomed to insult the people with impunity. The soldiers, in particular, bore themselves offensively — more especially those hun- gry troopers; who, returning unpaid from the Northern campaign, ▼ere thrown idly upon the country. The disgrace they had fairly tamed by fleeing before the Scots from the ford of Newburn, bad de- paived them of the sympathies of their 3wn countrymen : as a natural THE BLAOK flOSSKMAN. It iensequesje, proToking towardB the Utter a aort «f gwag^ring and reckless hostility. The incident which had occurred, and in which he had been an In- Toluntary actor, inspired Walter Wade with some emotions that were new to him, and, as he slackened his pace, after a sharp canter, he fell into a train of reflections very different from those hitherto en- gaging his thoughts. He was still too young to have entered into the politics of the tima He knew that there was trouble between the king and his people ^ but breathing only the atmosphere of the " Presence," he could have other behef, than that the right was on the aide of royalty. He knew that the king, after an interregnum of eleven years, had fommoned a Parliament, to settle the differences between himself and his subjects. He knew this from having been officially present at iti opening. He knew, moreover, that this Parliament, after sitting only a few days, had been summarily dismissed; for he had been also pres- ent at its prorogation. What should the young courtier care for such incidents as these— however significant they might be to the patriot, or politician f To do him justice, however, Walter Wade, young as he was, was not altogether indifferent to what was passing. The spirit of his an- cestry — ^that love of liberty, that had displayed itself at Runnymede — ^was not absent from his bosom. It was there; though hitherto held in check by the circumstances surrounding him. He had wit- nessed the punishments of the pilktj— -by summary sentence of Star Chamber and High Commission Ooitfi; he had been present at fear- ful spectacles of ear-croppings and othel mutilations ; and, although among companions, who beheld Such scenes with indifference — or often regarded them as sources of amusement — more than once had he been profoundly affected by them. Stripling though he was, more than once had he reflected upon such royal wrongs. Circum- stances, however^ had placed him among the ranks of those, to whom Ihe smiles of a tyrant were sweet ; and he was still too young and unro- iecting, to give other than a passing thought to the theme of Liberty. That the enemies of the king suffered justly, was the belief that was breathed around him. He heard the statement on all sides; and from pretty lips — from the lips of a queen ! How could he question its truth? His encounter with the cuirassiers had produced an impression upon him, calculated to change his p^litUai sentiments — almost to chang« thenu 3S *• A scandal . •' muttered ha to limself. Ths4> fhese military bul* lies should be allowed to act as they pleas*. I wonder the king per* mits it. Perhaps it may be true what * wicked Pym ' — as the queea calls him — said in the Parliament House : that his Majesty encour- ages their insubordination. Ah ! if I had thought so, I should have joined that brave fellow, who drank just now to the people. By-the- by, who can ^ be ? He's gone up the road — as if he lived our way. A ■plendid rider ; and a horse worthy of him. I never saw either be- fore. If he be of Bulstrode neighborhood; he must have come into it •ince my time. Perhaps a traveler only ? And yet his horse looked fresh, as if he had just stepped out of the stable. He could not have ridden him farther than from Uxbridge ? " " I thought those fellows were preparing to pursue him; '* contin- ued he, glancing back over his shoulder. " They must have given up the idea ; else I should hear them behind me. If they come on, I shall slip aside among the trees, and let them pass. I don't want any more converse with such companions as Captain Scarthe — ^that's what his comet called him, I think; nor yet with Master Comet Stubbs himself. Stubbs indeed ! Surely there must be something in names ?»» On finishing this series of reflections, the young courtier drew bri- dle ; and halted for the purpose of listening. He could hear voices behind — at the inn — a chorus of rough voices in loud vociferation. It was the "hip hurrah," of the troopers re- sponding to the toast of " th^ king.** There was no other sound — at least none to indicate that the pursuit was being continued. "Good! they are not following him. Prudent on their part, I should say. If he has kept on as he started, he will be miles off by this." "There** no chance of my overtaking him ! " continued he, once more heading his horse to the road. " My faith ! I wish I could. Now that I remember the circumstances, I've heard there are rob- bers on this route. Sister wrote me about them not long since. They stopped a lady's coach, and plundered it ; though they did no hurt to the lady, be} ond stripping ber of her jewels— even to the rings In her ears ! Only one of them — the captain I suppose — came near the coach. The others stood by ; but said not a word. How very funny of the fellows to act so ! Well, if it be my ill fortune to encoun- ter robbers, I hope it may also be my good-fortune to find them equal- j well-mannered. I don't mind giving t^em all I've got, — ^it's not much— if they'll only let me pass on unmolested, like the ludy. V faith, I've been a fool to leave London so late; and that unlucky adr venture at the inn has made it later. It*s quite night. There's a beautiful moon, to be sure ; but what of that, in this lonely place ? It would only help to give light to the rascals; and enable them all tha more easily to strip me of my trappings." Notwithstanding his apparent indifference to an encounter with rob^ bers, which these reflections might Indicate, the young traveler wM not without some apprehension. At the time, the roads of England were infested with highwaymen and footpads. Robberies were inci- dents of daily occurrences-even on the very skirts of the metropolis ; and on the highways and byways, the demand for your purse waa almost as common as the modern solicitation for alms. In general, the "gentlemen of the road" were not sanguinary in their disposition. Some were even courteous. In truth, many ol them were men, who, by the tyrannous exactions of the Sovereign, had been beggared in fortune ; and forced to adopt this illegal mode of replenishing their exchequers. They were not all ruffians by instinct. Still there were some of them, with whom " Stand and deliver ! ** meant " Death if you do not !" It was not without a feeling of nervousness, that Walter Wade scanned the long slope of road extending towards the crest of Red Hill — ^at the bottom of which he had now arrived. It was on this very hill — as stated in the correspondence of his sister — that tha coach had been stopped, and the lady rifled of her rings. The road running up the steep acclivity was of no great width- nothing resembling the broad macadamized " turnpike " of modem times. It was a mere track, just wide enough for wheels — ^bordered by a beechen forest, through which the path wound upward; the trees standing close along each side, and in some places forming ar- cades over it. The young traveler once more reined up and listened. The voioea from the inn no longer reached his ear — not even in distant murmer- Ing. He would have preferred hearing them. He almost wished that the pursuit had been continued. Little as he might have relished the Bompanionship of Captain Scarthe, or cornet Stubbs, it would havt been preferable to felling into that of a party of highwaymen or foot- pads. He bent forward to catch any sound that might come from the road before him. Ha could hear none — at least, none of a character to 10 make him imeasy. The soft monotone of the goatsucksr fell iipoi hiB ear ; mingled with the sharper note of the partridge, calling hef young across the stubble. He heard, also, the distant barking of th« watch-dog; and the sheep-bell tinkling in the fold; but these sounds, though characteristic of tranquil country life — and sweet to the ear so long hindered from hearing them — ^were not inconsistent with the presence either of footpad or highwayman ; who, lurking concealed among the trees, need not interrupt thetp utterance. Walter Wade was far from being of a timid disposition; but no youth of eighteen could be accused of cowardice, simply because ho did not desire an encounter with robbers. It did not, therefore, prove poltroonery on his part, when, proceed- ing along the road, his heart beat slightly with apprehension — ^no more, when on perceiving the figure of a horseman dimly outlined mider the shadow of the trees, he suddenly came to a halt, and hesi- tated to advance. The horseman was about a score of spaces from where he hai stop- ped — ^moving neither one way nor the other, but motionless in tht middle of the road. •' A highwayman ! " thought Walter, midecided whether to advance, nr to ride back. " But no, it can scarce be that? A robber would not take stand io conspicuously. He would be more likely to conceal himself behiiid the trees — at least until " While thus conjecturing, a voice fell upon his ear, which he at once recognized as the same he had late heard so emphatically pronounc- ing ''7^ people!'' Re-assured, the young traveler determined to advance. A man o| Buch mien, as he who bestrode the black steed — and actuated by such a sentiment, as that he had so boldly announced — could scarcely be a disreputable person — ^much less a highwayman ? Walter did not wrong him by the suspicion. "If I mistake not,** said the stranger, after the preliminary hail, "you are the young gentleman I saw, a short while ago, in rather icurvy company ? ' "You are not mistaken, I am." ** Come on then ! If you are my only pursuer, I fancy I shall in- cur© no danger, in permitting you to overtake me ? Come on young sir ! Perhaps on these roads it may be safer for both of ub, if wo ridt b oompaaj t *' Thtli frankly solicited, the young courtier hesitated nc lougir ; bu^ fricking his horse with the spur, rode briskly forward. Together the horsemen continued the ascent up the hill. Half way up, the road swerved towards the southwest. For • Bhort distance the track was clear of trees, so that the moonlight fell full upon it. Here the two travelers, for the first time, obtained a distinct view of one another. The stranger — who still retained his iricognito — merely glanced to- wards his companion ; and seeming satisfied with a slight inspection, allowed his eyes to wander elsewhere. Perhaps during his halt before the hostelry he had made a more elaborate examination of the young courtier. Walter, on the other hand, had at the inn caught only a glimpse ol the black horseman. Now, though out of courtesy, looking furtively and askance, he proceeded to examine him more minutely. The personal appearance of the latter was striking enough to court examination. Walter Wade was impressed with it— even to admi- ration. He saw beside him, not a youth like himself, but a man in the full prim© and vigor of manhood — ^perhaps over thirty years of age. He saw a figure of medium size, and perfect shape — its members knitted together, with a terseness that indicated true strength. He saw shoul- ders of elegant tov/mure; a breast of swelling prominence ; a full round throat, with jaws that by their breadth proclaimed firmness and de- cision. He saw dark brown hair curhng around a countenance, that in youth might have appeared under a fairer complexion ; but was now bronzed, as if stained with the tan of travel. He saw eyes of dark ha- zel hue — ^in the moonlight shining softly, and mildly, as those of the dove. But Walter knew that those same eyes could flash like an eagle's ; for he had seen them so fired, on first beholding them. In short, the young courtier saw by his side, a man that reminded him of a hero of Middle Age romance— one, about whom he had been lately reading; and whose character had made a deep impression npon his youthful fancy. The dress of the cavalier was in perfect keeping with his fine figur* and face. It was simple, although of costly material. Cloak, doub- let, and trunks were silk velvet, of dark maroon color. The boots we? e of the finest Spanish leather ; and his hat, a beaver — the brim in front coquettishly turned up, with a jeweled clasp, holding a black iftrieh fidather that swept backward to his shoulder. A scarlet sasl^ of China crape, looped around the waist — an embroi(idred ihcalde? belt crossing the breast, from whi^h dangled a rapier in richly chas- ed sheath ; buff-colored gloves, with gauntlets attached, cuffs of whitt lawn covering the sleeves of his dciblet ; and broad collar of the samei extending almost to his shoulders : fancy all these articles of costly fabric, fitted to the fashion of the time to a faultless manly figure, and you have a portrait of the cavalier whose appearance had won the adouration of Walter Wade. The korse was in keeping with the rider — a steed of large size, and perfect proportions — such as an ancient paladin might have chosen to carry him upon a crusade. He was of the true color — a pure blacky all except his muzzle, where the velvet-like epidermis was tinged with yellowish red, presenting the hue of umber. Had his tail been suffered to droop, its tip would have touched the ground ; but even while going at a walk it swung diagonally outward, oscillating at each step. When in the gallop, it floated upon the air, spread, and horizontal. The spotted skin of a South American jaguar, with housings of scar- let cloth, caparisoned the saddle; over the pommel of which hung a pair of holsters, screened by the thick glossy fur of the North Ameri- can beaver. The bit was a powerful mameluke — about that time introduced from the Spanish peninsula^-which clanking between the teeth of the horse^ constantly kept his mouth in a state of foam. This beautiful steed had a name. Walter had heard it pronounced. As the young courtier road up, the horse was standing — ^his muzzle almost in contract with the road — and pawing the dust with impa- tience. The short gallop had roused his fiery spirit. To tranquil- ize it, its rider was caressing him — as he drew his gloved hand over the smooth skin of the neck, talking to him, as if he had been a corn- fade, and repeating his name. It was " Hubert." After exchanging salutations, the two horsemen rode side by side for some moments, without vouchsafing further speech. It was the silence consequent upon such an informal introduction. The rider of the black steed was the first to break it. "You are Walter Wade — son to Sir Marmaduke, of Bulstrodi Park ? ** said he, less by way of interrogative than as a means of com- liiencing the conversation. "I am,*' wiswered the young courtier, showing lome surprise •*How leamt you my name, sir?" ** From your own lipft.'* THB BLAOK HOBSSMAV* 48 •From my own lips ! When, may I ask ? '* inquired Walter, with A fresh scrutiny of the stranger's countenance. "I don't remember haying had the honor of meeting you before." " Only within the last half-hour. You forget, young sir, haying giy* •nyour name in my hearing? " " Oh true ! — ^you overheard, then — ^you were present ? '* **I rode up just as you were declaring your identity. The son of Sir Marmaduke Wade has no need to conceal his name. It is ont i# b« proud of." " In my father's name, I thank you. You know him, sir ? " ** Only by sight and — reputation," answered the stranger, musing- ly. " You are in tha serrice of the court ? " he continued, after « pause. " No longer now. I took leave of it this very morning." « Resigned?" •• It was my father's wish I should return home." ** Indeed ! And for what reason ? Pardon my freedom In asking the question." " Oh ! " replied the young courtier, with an air otnaw^e, " I should make you free to the reason, if I only knew it myself. But in truth, sir, I am ignorant of it. I only know that my father has written to the king, asking permission for me to return home ; that the king has granted it — ^though, I have reason to think, with an ill grace ; since his Majesty appeared angry with me at parting, or, perhaps, I should say, angry with my father." The intelligence thus communicated by the ci-devant eourtier, in- stead of eliciting any expression of regret from his companion, seemed rather to gratify him. " So fiir good ! " muttered he to himself. " Safe upon our side. This will seciwe him." Walter partially overheard the soliloquized phrases, but without comprehending their import. "Your father," continued the stranger, "is likely to have a good reasons for what he has done. No doubt, Master Walter, he has acted for your best interests ; though it may be rather unpleasant for you to exchange the gay pleasures of a royal palace for a quieted life hi the country." " On the contrary," replied the youth, "it is just what I was de- •hring. I am fond of hawking and hunting^ not in the grand ceremo- 4uduon w^'t* been accustomed to at Court — ynth a crowd o| 44 THE BLACK HOBSEhlAN. squalling women to fright away the game — ^but by myself on thi quiet, among the hills here, or with a friend or two to take part That's the sport for me !'* " Indeed ! *' said the strange horseman, gmiling m he spoke ; " thest •re heterodox sentiments for a courtier. It'i rather odd to hear on« of your calling speak disparagingly of the sex; and especially th« ladies of the Court. The maids of honor are yery interesting, ar« they not f I have understood that our French queen affects being surrounded by beauties. She has a long train of them, it is said ?" "Painted dolls !" scornfully rejoined the ex-courtier, "tricked in French fashions. Give me a genuine English girl— above all, one who keeps to the country and's got some color. And some con- science besides ; for, by my troth, sir, there's not much about th« Court — except what 's artificial ! ' * "Bravo V exclaimed the stranger, " a Court satirist, rather than a courtier. Well ! I am glad to hear my sentiments so eloquently expressed. Give me also the genuine English girl, who breathes onlj the pure air of the country !" " That's the style for me I" echoed Walter, in the warmth of youth- All enthusiasm. " Well ! there are many such to be met with among these Chiltem Hills. No doubt, Master Wade, you know some ; and, perhaps, you have one in particular before your mind's eye at this very moment ? Ha! ha! ha!" The color came to Walter's cheeks ae he stammered out a reply> which only partially repudiated the insinuation. " Your pardon !" cried the cavalier, suddenly checking his laugh- ter. " I don't wish to confess you — I have no right to do so— I have given you reason to think me unmannerly.*' " Oh ! not at all," said Walter; himself too free of speech to bt offended by that quality in another. "Perhaps you will excuse the curiosity of a stranger," continued the black horseman. " I have only been a short time resident in this part of the country ; and one is naturally curious to know something of one's neighbors. If you promise not to be angry, I shall make bold to ask you another question." " I shall not be offended at any question one gentleman my ask of anc^ther. You are a gentleman, sir ?" " I have been brought up as one ; and, though I have parted with, ffc ri^tbar Jbccu^ deprived of the fortune that attaches to such a title« I THE BLACK HOKSEMAK U hope I have not forfeited the character. The question I am abc at tt put may appear rather trivial after so elaborate an introduction. I merely wished to ask, whether you are the only member of yoitf fiither's family." " Oh, dear, no V^ frankly responded the youth; " I haye a sister- lister Marion.'* " Grown up, like yourself?'* " She should be by this. She wasn't quite grown when I saw hef last ; but that will be three years come Christmas. She's older than I; and, i'faith, I shouldn't wonder if she be taller too. I've heard say she's a great big girl — ^nearly the head taller than Lora." ^ "Lora?" "Lora Lovelaco— my cousin, sir." " *Tis his sister — 'tis Marion. I thought as much. Marion Wade ! A noble name. It has a bold clarion sound — in keeping with the character of her who bears it. Marion ! Now know I the name of her who for weeks I have been worshiping ! — who for weeks — —" "My cousin," continued the candid young courtier, interrupting the silent reflections of his traveling companion, "is also a member of my father's family. She has been staying at Bulstrode Park now for many years ; and will remain, I suppose, until " The heir of Bulstrode hesitated — as if not very certain of the time at which the stay of his cousin was to terminate. "Until," interrogated the cavalier, with a significant smile, "until when?" "Really, sir," said Walter, speaking rather confusedly, " I can't say how long our cousin may choose to remain with us. When she comes to be of age, I dare say her guardian will claim her. Papa is ftot her guardian." "Ah ! Master Walter Wade, I'd lay a wager, that before Mistress Lora Lovelace be of age, she'll choose her own guardian — one who will not object to her staying at Bulstrode for the remainder of her life. IIa!ha!ha!" Instead of feeling indignant, the cousin of Lora Lovelace joined in the laugh. There was something in the insinuation that soothed and Ratified him. Conversing in this jocular vein, the two travelers reached the sum- mit of the sloping declivity ; and c(>ntinuing onward, mtered upon a Ifild tr%ct of country known as Jarret'a Neath, ^ ** iTAKD AND DBLIVEB I '* CHAFnCRUL ^•fAVD AVB Diunn ! *' Jarret*8 Hefrt%~-iiow Gerrard's Cross Common—iras, tt tin lime of which we write, a tract of considerable extent --occaj/ing an elevated plateau of the Chiltern Hills, and one of the largest. Commencing at the brow of Red Hill, it extended westward for a distanoe of many miles — flanked right and left by the romantic val- leys of Chalfont and Fulmere. At that time only the adjoining valleys showed signs of habitation^ In the former stood the noble mansion of Chalfont House, with its synonymous village ; while on the other side, quaintly embowered amid ancient trees, was the manorial residence of Fulmere. About two miles further to the westward, where the plateau is broken by a series of rounded undulations, stood the magnificent mansion of Tem- ple Bulstrode, the residence of Sir Marmaduke Wade. The elevated plain, lying between the above-named lordships, bore scarce a trace of human occupancy. Its name, Jarret's Heath, would indicate the condition of its culture. It was a waste — upon which the plough had never broken ground — thickly covered with high gorse and heather. Here and there appeared straggling groves and copses, composed chiefly of black and white birch trees, interspersed with juniper and holly;; while on each side towards the valleys, it was flanked by a dense forest of the indigenous beech. Lengthwise through this waste trended the King's highway — ^th« London and Oxford road — beyond it impinging upon the Park of Bulstrode, and running alongside the latter towards the town of Bea- consfield. In the traverse of Jarret's Heath the main road was intersected) by two others — one passing from the manor house of Fulmere to the village of Chalfont St. Peter's; the other forming the communicatiois between Chalfont and the country towards Stoke and Windsor. These were but bridle, or packhorse path», tracked out irregularly among the trees, and meandering through the gorse wherever it grew thinnest. That running from Stoke to Chalfont was the ra *st fre- fuented; and iKn old i^n-^the PocMora^^— 8tandin| upoQ tbo Chal 41 font side of the waste, betokened traffic and trarel. There was not much of either; and the hostelry bore only a questionable character. Such as it was, however, it wa© the only sign of habitation upon Jarret's Heath — ^if we except the remains of a rude hovel, staning by the side of the London Road, just at the point where, going west- ward from Red Hill, it debouched upon the waste. This hovel had been long untenanted. Part of the roof had fallen In ; it was a ruin. An open space in front, through which ran the road, might once have been a garden ; but it was now overgrown with gorse, and other indigenous shrubbery — only distinguishable from the surrounding thicket by its scantier growth. It was a singular spot to have been selected as a residence ! since k stood more than a mile from any other habitation — the nearest be- ing the suspected hostelry of the Packhorse. Perhaps it was this very remoteness from companionship that had influenced its original owner in the choice of a site for his dwelling. Whether or no, it had been at best but a miserable tenement. Even with smoke issuing out of its clay chimney, it would have look- ed cheerless. But in ruins, with its roof falling piecemeal upon the floor, tall weeds standing close by its walls, gorse overgrowing ita garden, and black birches clustering thickly around, it presented an aspect of wild and gloomy desolation; the very spot where one might expect to be robbed, or even murdered. Conversing, as we have described them, the two travelers had arrir- ed near the edge of the opeming in which stood this ruined hut. Th« moon was still shining brightly ; and through the break in the brush' wood, formed oy the clear causeway of the road, they could distin- guish — though still at the distance of a mile or more — the tops of t^o magniflcent trees, oaks, elms, and chestnuts, that crowned the undu- lating ridges of Bulstrode Park. They could even see a portion of the noble mansion of Norman architecture, gleaming red and white, under the silvery sheen of the moonlight. In ten minutes more Walter Wade would be at home. It was a pleasant anticipation for the young courtier to indulge in. Home so near, after such a long protracted absence — ^home, that promised the sweet interchange of natural affection, and — something more. The cavalier — ^whose journey extended farther up the road — ^wai about congratulating his companion on the delightM prospect, when # rustling noise, heard to the right of the pth, suddenly stopped 48 " STAND AND DELIVER ! ^ their cocrersation. At the same instant a harsh voice sounded la Ihfiir ears, pronouncing the significant summons : — " Stand and Dblivba ! *• The tW9 travelers had akeady ridden into open ground. In front of the ruined hut, out of which the voice appeared to proceed. But they had no time to speculate ea to whence it came ; for on the in* fitant of its utterance, a man was seen rushing forward into the mid* die of the road, and placing himself in a position to intercept theit advance. His threatening attitude, combined with the mode in which In manipulated a long-handled pike — the point of which he held close to the heads of their horses — left no doubt upon the minds of the travelers, that to stop them was his determination. Before either could make reply to his challenge itwas re-pronounc- ed in the same loud tone; and with a fresh gesture of menace — ^in which the pike played an important part. " Stand and deliver ! " interrogated the cavalier, slowly repeating the stereotyped phrase. " That's your wish, is it, my worthy feUow ? " "It is ! ** growled the challenger, "an* be quickish, if yeVe anj oonsam for yer skins." "Well,'* continued the cavalier, preserving the most perfect sang froid, " you can't say but what we've been quick enough in obe3ring your first command? You see we have both come to a stand instan- terl Aa for your second, it requires consideration. Before deliver- ing, we must know the why and wherefore — above all, to whom we are to unburthen ourselves. You won't object to oblige us with your name — as also your reason of making such a modest request ? " "Curse yer palaver!" vociferated the man, with an impntient flourish of the pike. "There be no names gi'en on the road, nor reasons neyther. Yer money, or yer blood ! It be no use yer tryin* to get out o' it. Look thear! Ye see there be a dozen o' as! What's the good o' resistin ' ? Ye're surrounded." And as he said this, the robber with a sweep of his formidable weapon indicated the circle of shrubbery — near the centre of which the scene was being enacted. The eyes of the two travelers involuntarily followed the pomting of the pike. Sure' enough they toer« surrounded Six or seven fierce-looking all apparently armed with the same sort of weapon as that ii "stand AJSTD DELI7Kr1" 4i the hands of their leader, stood at equal distaices from each other around the opening — their forms half concealed by the trees and gorso. Thty were all standing perfectly motionless. Not even their weapons seemed to stir; and not one of them had as yet spoken, or stepped forward; though it might have been expected they would have done so — ^If only to strengthen the demand made by their spokesman. " Keep yer places, comrades ! " commanded the latter. " There's no need for any o* ye to stir. These are civilish gentlemen. Ws don't want to hurt them. They bean't agoin to resist." " But they 6^," interrupted the cavalier, in a mocking but determin- ed tone; at the same time whipping a pistol from its holster — "/•»», to the death; and so too will the gallant youth by my side.** Walter had drawn his rapier — the only weapon he possessed. "What! yield to a pack of cowardly footpads?" continued tht cavalier, cocking his pistol, as he spoke. **No — sooner ** "Yer blood be on yer own head then ! ** shouted the robber, at the same time rushing forward, and extending his pike, so that its steel pomt was almost in contact with the counter of the cavalier's horse The moonlight shone full upon the footpad, showiog a face of fierce aspect — ^features of wild expression — ^black beard and whiskers — a tliick shock of dark hair matted and tangled — eyes bloodshot, and gleaming with a lurid light ! It was fortunate for their owner, that the moonlight favored the identification of those fear-inspiring features — else that moment laight have been his last. The cavalier had leveled his cocked pistol. His finger was upon the trigger. In another second the shot would have been discharged; •iid in all likelihood his assailant would have been lying lifeless at the feet of his horse. All at once the outstretched arm was seen to drop, while at tht Kune instant from the horseman's lips issued an dxclamation of sin* gular import. " Gregory Garth ! ** cried he, " you a highwayman — a robber ? About to rob— to murder " " My old master ! " gasped out the man, suddenly lowering the point of his pike. " Be it ye ? Pardon . pardon. Sir Henry ! I didn't know ' twar ye.** And as the speaker gave utterance to the last words, he dashed hii weapon to the ^ound ; and stood over it in |k cowering; and oontriti S 10 ^^ STAND AND DELIYSK 1 " ftttidude-~not daring to raise his eyes to the faoo of him who Hal brought the affair to such an unexpected ending. " 0, Master Henry ! " he again cried, " will ye forgie' me ? Bnitt as I ar\ 'twould ha' broke me heart to a hurted a hair o' yer head Curse the crooked luck that's brought me to this ! " For some moments there was a profound silence — unbroken by ttny Yoice. Even the companions of the robber appeared to respect the situation ; since not one of them moved or made remark of any kind! Their humiliated chief was himself the first to put a period to thia interral of embarrassment. ** 0, Master Henry ! " he exclaimed, apparently in a paroxysm of chagrin. " Shoot me ! Kill me if ye like ! Arter what's passed, I doant desarye no better than to die. There's me breast ! Send yer bullet through it; an' put an' end to the miserable life of Greg'ry Garth ! " While speaking, the footpad pulled open the flap of his doublet- laying bare before the moonlight a broad sinewy breast, thickly oot- tred with coarse black hair. Advancing close to the cavalier's horse he presented his bosom, thus exposed — as if to tempt the death he had so strangely aolicitod. His words, his looks, his whole attitude, proclaimed him to b« in earnest. '' Come, come. Garth ! " said the cavalier, in % soothing tone — at the same time returning the pistol to its holster. '' You're too good a man — at least you xoers ones — ^to be shot down in that off-hand fashion." "Ah, OTice Master Henry. Maybe that's tnie enough. But now I desarye it." "- " Spare your self-recrimination, Gregory. Your life like my own, has been a hard one. I know it ; and can therefore look more leni- ently ou what has happened now. Let us be thankful it's no worse} and hope it will be the means of bringing about a change for the better." ** It will. Master Henry ; h will ; I promise that." ** I'm glad to hear you say so ; and doubt not but that you'll keep jrour word. Meanwhile givs orders to yo«r trusty ibllowers—by^ the-way a waU-bthaved band — ^not to molest us. To-morrow mc . ing there will be travelers along this way, upon wtom I have no' slight^t objection that both you and yours should pracliss to» "STAUD Am) t)EL17EBl" tiiliar fctocation; and to your hearts' content. Please iesire tlxos gentlemen to keep their distance. I don't wish them to make any nearer approach — lest I might have the misfortune to find in their ranks some other old acquaintance, who like yourself has fallen from the paths of virtue.** As the footpad stood listening to the request, a singular ezpressioff was observed to steal over his fierce features — which gradually gath •red into a broad comical grin. " Ah ! Master Henry,** he rejoined. " I may order 'em to obieegt ye, but they woant obey. Yer needn't be afeerd o' *em for all that. Te may go as near *em as ye like — they ain't a going* to molest ye Ye may run yer sword through an' through *em, an* never a one o' 'em's goin' to cry out he be hurt.'* ** Well, they seem patient fellows in all sincerity. But enon^-i- what do you mean, Gregory ?** " That they be nobodies, Master Henry — ^reg'lar nobodies. They be only dummies — ^a lot 'o old coats and hats, that*s no doubt done good sarvice to their wearers 'fore they fell into the hands o' Grego- ry Garth — aye, an' they ha' done some good sarvice since — o' • different kind, as ye see." "So these fellows are scare-crows ? I had my suspicions." " Nothing more nor less, master. Harmless as I once war meself ; but since that time — ^ye know — ^when the old hall war taken from ye, an* ye went abroad — since then I*ve been ** "I don't want to hear your history. Garth,** said his former mas- ter, interrupting him,** at least not since then. Let the past be of the past, if you vrill only promise me to forsake your present profes- sion for the future. Sooner or later it will bring you to the block. " But what am I to do? ** inquired the footpad, in a tone of hum- ble expostulation. "Do? Anything but what you have been doing. Get work- honest work.** " As I live, I*ve tried wi* all my might. Ah ! Sir Henry, ye've been away from the country a tidyish time. Ye don't know how things be now. To be honest be to starve. Honesty ain't no longer o' any account in England.'* " Some day," said the cavalier, as he sat reflecting in hit saddle <. So, strip ! " ** What, sir ! would you send me naked on my errand ? You for- get that I'm the bearer of a message from the king ? " " No, daang me if I do ; an' daang the king, too ! That ere's poterj for ye. I've heerd ye be fond o' it at Court. I like i»xm» better ; an' my prose be, dismount an' strip." Notwithstanding the tone of raillery the footpad was pleased to express himself, the imfortunate courtier saw that he was all the while in serious earnest, and that there would be danger in resisting his demands. Spite of his reluctance, therefore, he was compelled to slide down from his saddle, and disrobe himself in the middle of the road. Not imtil he stooi) nearly stark naked, did the relentless robber let him desist — Cleaving to him little else than his shirt and stockings ! ^ Oh, sir ! you will not mount me thus ? " said the wretched man, appealing with upheld hands to the footpad. " Surely you will not send me in this guise— the bearer of a royal message ? What a figure I should cut on horseback, without my boots — ^without my hat or doublet — without ' ' '< Stash yer palaver !" cried Garth, who was busied making the cast-off clothes into a bundle. ''Who said ye war goin' to cut a figger a-horseback ! Whar's yer horse, I sh'd like to know ! " The courtier gave a doubting nod towards the steed. **0h," responded the footpad, coolly continuing his task, ''moat a been yer horse ten minutes agone. He is myen now. I have been afoot long enough, while ye an' youm ha' been ridin'. It be my tune to mount for a bit. That's only fair, tmm an' turn, am't it ? *• The dismounted messenger made no reply. Though surprise and terror had by this time well nigh deprived him of his senses, he had enough left to admonish hhn that all remonstrance would be idle. Ee said nothing, tb^rf^f^ret ^ut stood with shivering frvpue mi t^tb ^battering like castanets ; for it chanced to le one of those ^ill an kumnal nights, when the cold is felt ahnost as sensibly as in December The footpad took no further notice of him, until he had completed the binding of the bundle. Then straightening himself up, face to hce with his victim, he surveyed him from head to foot with a half quizzical, half serious look. The latter at length predominated— as if some suspicious thought had come uppermost in his mind. "Cowardly as ye be, ye king's minion," said he, addressing the trembling messenger in a tone of scornful bitterness, " thear mout be cunnin' an' mischief in ye. I'll take care that ye doant goo furder this night. Come along into the house here ! Te woan't object to that — seein' as ye're so starved-like outside. Come along ! " And without waiting for either the assent or refusal of the indivi- dual thus solicited, the robber seized him by the wrist; and half led, half dragged him over the threshold of the hovel. Once inside the ruin, he proceeded to bind his unresisting victim irith cords, which he had taken in along with him. He had plenty •f light for his purpose ; for a portion of the roof had fallen in, and tht moonlight shone brightly upon the thatch-strewn floor. Expert in the handling of ropes, his task was soon performed; and in a few minutes the king's messenger stood with his arms bound behind his back, and his ancles lashed as tightly together as if he had been a daLgerous felon ! "Now," said the robber, after securing the last loop, apparently to his satisfa^'tion, "ye woan't come loose till somebody lets ye ; an' that ar'n't gomg to be me. I ha'n't no wish to be cruel to ye — tho' je are a king's flunkey, an' as ye'll be easier lying down than stan- nin' up I'll put ye i' that position." As he said this, he let go his hold; aad permitted the onfortunata man to fsM heavily on the floor. " Lie thear. Master Messenger, till somebody lifts ye. Ill see to the deliverin' o' yer message. Good Night ! " And with a mocking laugh, Gregory Garth strode back over the threshold — ^leaving the astounded traveler to reflections that were neither very lucid nor very pleasant. After passing out of the hut, the footpad hastened to take his de- parture from the spot. He led the steed of the messenger out mto the middle of the road, IDd tied the }^m^ b^ had m^i^ to th# c^tte of tb^ ift44Ie. g^ 61 then glided to the neu* side of the horse; ftnd caught hold ef th« withers — as if about to mount. Something, however, caused him to hesitate; and an interval e»apsed, without his making any effort to get into the saddle. " Dang it, old partners ! " cried he, at length — addressing hirasell to his band of dummies, whom he had been for some time neglecting — " 'twon't do for us to part this fashion. If Gregory Garth are promoted to be a highwayman, he ar'n't going to look down on hi« |.ials o' the path. No ! Ye shall go 'long wi' me, one an' ^11. Though the hul o' ye put thegither ar'n't worth this shinin' ticker I've got ir my fob, for all that I can make better use o' ye, than leavin' ye here to scare the crows o' Jarret's Heath. Come along, my boys ! Ise boun' this stout charger from the royal mews be able to carry the hul on us, an' not think it much o' a looad neyther. I'll find room for all o' ye — some on the crupper, an' the rest on the withers. Come along, then ! " Without waiting for any reply to his proposal, he glided round the edge of the opening, and rapidly dismantling the dummier one after the other, he returned toward the horse with their ravished vestment*. Hanging the "old clo'" across both croup and withers — and there attaching them by strings — ^he at length climbed into the saddle lately occupied by the king's messenger, and rode gleefully away. Just as he had cleared the crossing of the road, the clock of Chal- font St. Peter's tolled the hour of midnight. " Exact twelve ! " exclaimed he, in a tone of congratulation. " Well, *twur a close shave; but I' ve kep my word to Master Henry ! If I tied broke that, I could niver a looked hinr. i' the face agin. Ha ! Hear them old church bells ! How sweet >hey sound on the air o* the night ! They' mind me o' the time when I wur a innocent child. Ring on ! ring on ! ye bells o' Peter's Chattbnt ! Ring on, an' teU the world that Greg'ry Garth ifl biddin' good-bj to the road ! " THB FETF OHAMPETBB. OHAPTSB Xm. wttm OHAMp£nuk Were the Ohiltein hills stripped of the tunber» to this dsj soresft* ing a considerable portion of their surface, they would present a striking resemblance to those portions of the great North Americai steppe; known in the trapper parlance as "rolling prairies." Witli equal truthfulness might they be likened to the ocean, after a great storm ; when the waves no longer carry their foaming crests ; and the undulations of the swell have, to a certain extent, lost their paral- lelism. If you can fancy the liquid element then suddenly trans- formed into solid earth, you will have a good idea of the shape of the Chilterns. From time immemorial have these hills enjoyed a peculiar reputa- tion. In the forward march of England's agriculture, it was long ere their sterile soil tempted the touch of the plough; and even at this hour vast tracts of their surface lie unreclaimed in " commons " coy- ered with heath, furze, or forests of beech-wood. At various periods of our history, their fame has not been of the fairest. The wild woods, while giving shelter to the noble stag, and other creatures of the chase, also served as a choice retreat for the outlaw and the robber ; and in past times, it became necessary to ap- point a " steward or warden," with a body of armed attendants, to give safe conduct to the traveler passing through their limits. Hence the origin of that noted office — ^now happily a sinecure ; though, un happily, not the only sinecure of like obsolete utility in this grievous- ly taxed land. Near the eastern verge of the Chiltem country, is situated the noble park of Bulstrode. It is one of the most ancient enclosureR in England; older than the invasion of the Norman; perhaps as old as the evacuation of the Roman. In the former epoch it was the scene of strife — as the remains of a Saxon encampment lying within its limits, with a singular legend attached — will testify. Extending over an area of a thousand acres, there is scarce a rood of Bulstrode Park that could be called level ground— the camp «Dclo9Dr^ dready' iii^ti9ii^4, fOTvmi th^ lingle exception. Tht THJB FBTK OHAMPETEE. 67 iuiiace exhibits % series of smooth rounded hills, and undulatinjj ridges, separated frora each other by deep valley-like raviues — th« concavities of the latter so resembling the convexities of the former, as to suggest the idea that the hills have been scooped out of th« valleys ; and placed in an inverted position beside them. The park, itself, offers a fair specimen of the scenery of the Chilterns — the ocean swell suddenly brought to a stand; the waves, and the ** troughs " between, having lost their paralleUsm. The valleys tra- verse in different directions, here running into each- other ; there shallowing upward, or ending abruptly in deep romantic dells, thickly copsed with hawthorn, holly, or hazel — the favorite haunts of the nightingale. The ridges join each other in a similar fashion ; or rise into isolated hills, so smoothly coped as to seem artificial. Belts of shrubbery; and clumps of gigantic trees — elm, oak, beech, and chestnut — mottle the slopes, or crown their summits ; while the gpaces between exhibit a sward of that vivid verdure — only to be seen in the pastures and parks of England. Such was Bulstrode Park in the seventeenth century ; such with but slight changes, is it at t\w present day — a worthy residence for the noblest family in the land. It is the morning of the ftte arranged by Sir Marmaduke Wade —to celebrate the anniversary of his son's birthday ; and, at the same time, to commemorate his return to the paternal mansion. The red aurora of an autumnal morning has given promise of a brilliant day ; and as if to keep that promise, a golden sun, already some degrees above the horizon, is gradually mountmg into a canopy of cloudless blue. His beams, striking obliquely through the foliage of the forest, fall frith a subdued hght upon the earth ; but in the more open undula- tions of the park they have already kissed the dew from the grass ; and the verdant turf seems to invite the footstep — like some vast carpet spread dNrer the arena of the expected sports. It is evident that the invitation of Sir Marmaduke had been exten- sively circulated ; and accepted. On every road and path tending in the direction of his residence, and from a distance of many miles, groups of rustics, in their gayest holiday dresses, have been seen from an early hour in the morning, proceeding towards the scene of the fete — old and young; fair and dark; comely and common- looking , aU •qually joyous and gleeful. 08 ^™* FBTB CHAMPETBSf* Within the tined of the old Saxon encampment i large ebinpany hu Essembled. There are thousands in all — some roaming over the ground; some seated under shady trees, on the simmiii of the turf- grown moat. Here and there may be seen large numbers forming n '*ring" — ^the spectators of some sport that Is progressing in their midst. Of sports, there are many kinds carried on at the same time. Here is played the game of "balloon; *' a huge leathern ball, inflated with hot air, and bandied about amidst a circle of players — ^the game be- ing to keep the ball passing from one to the other. There, you may see another party engaged in a game of ** bowls,'* fiwhionable as the favorite of royalty; and further on, a crowd clus- tered around a contest of "single-stick," where two stout feUows are cudgeling one another, as if determined on a mutual cracking of skulls — a feat however, not so easy of accomplishment. Not far off, you may behold the gentler sport of "kiss in the ring,*' where blue-eyed Saxon girls are pursued by their rustic beaux, and easily overtaken. At other places, you may witness a wrestling match; a game of foot-ball, or quoits; with "pitching the stone;" racing; leaping; and vaulting. At a short distance off, and outside the encampment, may be seen an al fresco kitchen, on an extensive scale ; where the servants of Sir Marmaduke are engaged in roasting inmiense barons of beef ; and huge hogs cleft lengthwise. An hour or two later, and this spot will be the most attractive of all. Not alone does the peasant world appear in the park of Sir Marma- duke Wade. Cavaliers picturesquely attired, in the splendid costumes of the time, along with high-born dames, are seen standing in groups over the ground. Some are spectators of the sports; though not a few of both sexes occasionally take part in them. The fete champetr§ is a fashionable mode of amusement, where rank is, for the time, sur- rendered to the desire for simple enjoyment; and it is not altogether outre for the mistress of the mansion to mingle with her maidens in the " out-door race; " nor the squire to take a hand at "single-stick,' or " bowls," with his rustic retainers. Even royalty, in those days, was accustomed to such condescension. Such was the gay spectacle exhibited in the park of Sir Marmaduke Wade ; to celebrate the anniversary of that happy day, that had givei him a son and heir. fOBWiUBLD— KABOB. A CHAPTER XIT. Tlie bells o!* Fxbridge were tolling the hour of neon. ScAfthe'i oairassiers wera still by the roadside inn, though in full armor ; tUid Mch trooper standing by the side of his horse, ready to take saddle. It was a late hour to begin their march ; but they had been detain- ed. The freshly rasped hoofs of the horses might declare the cause of the detention. The forges of Uxbridge had been called into re- quisition for the shoeing of the troop. There was no special need for haste. They had not far to go; and, the duty upon which they were bent, could be entered into at any hour. At twelve they were all ready for the route. " To horse ! " was uttered in the usual abrupt tone of command, and at the same instant the two officers were seen issuing from the doorway of the inn. The clattering of the steel, as the cuirassiers sprang to their saddles, could be heard on the calm air of the autumn noon, to the distance of a mile. The shop-keepers of Uxbridge heard it ; and were only too glad when told its interpretation. All night long, Scarthe's royal swashbucklers had been swaggering through the streets ; disturbing the tranquillity of their town, and leaving many a score unsettled. No wonder they rejoiced, when that clinking of sabres, and clashing of cuirasseSy declared the departure of Captain Scarthe and his foUow- mg from the hostelry of the Saracen's Head. Their men having mounted, the t\yo officers betook themselves to their saddles, though with less alertness. The comet seemed to have a difficulty in finding his stirrup; and, after he had succeeded in get- ting into his seat, it appeared an open question whether he should be able to keep it. Stubbs was intoxicated. His superior officer was affected in a similar fashion; though to a less degree. At all events, he did not show his tipsiness so palpably. Ho was able to mount into the saddle, without the hand of a helper; and when there, he could hold himself upright. Habit may hav« ^en him this superiority over his comrade; for Scarthe was an old ioldier, and Stubbs was not TO FORWARD — MABOH. The carouse sjf the preceding night had commenced at the riadsidi 'tin — early in ene evening. The incident that had there occurred — ^not of the most comforting aature, either to Scarthe or his subaltern — ^had stimulated them to continue at their cups — only transferring the scene to the inns of Ujc- bridge. ' A stray cavalier or two, picked up in the tcwn, had furnished Ihem with the right sort of associates for a midnight frolic ; and it was not till the blue light of mom was breaking over the meadows of Colne, that the wearied roisterers staggered over the old bridge; and returned to their temporary quarters. While the horses of the troop were in the hands of the farriers, the two oflBcers had passed an hour or two, tossing upon a brace of the best beds the inn afforded; and it was close upon twelve at noon when Scarthe awoke, and called for a cup of burnt sack to steady his nerves —quivering after the night's carouse. A slight breakfast sufficed for both captain and comet. This dwh patched, they had ordered the troop to horse; and i^ere about to con- tinue their march. ** Comrades ! " cried Scarthe, addressing himself to his followers, as soon as he felt fairly fixed in the saddle. " We've been spending the night in a nest of rebels. This Uxbridge is a town of traitors — Quakers, Dissenters, and Puritans — alike disloyal knaves." ** They are, by Gec-gec-ged ? " hiccuped Stubbs, trying to keep him- self upright on his horse. " They are ; you speak true, captain — they all'er you say," chorus sed several of the troopers, who had come away without settling their scores. " Then let them go to the devil ! " muttered Scarthe, becoming alike regardless of Uxbridge and its interests. " Let's look to what's be- fore. No — ^not that. First what's behind us. No pretty girls in the fain here. Ah ! that's a pity. Never mind the women, so long as there's wine. Hillo, old Boniface ! Once more set your taps a-flow- big. What will you drink, vagabonds? Beer?" " Ay, ay — anything you like, noble captain." " Beer, Boniface ; and for me more sack. What say you, Stubbs f " " Sack, sa-a-ck ! " stammerei the comet " Burnt sa-a-ck. Notli-' faig like it, by Ge-ged ! " " Who pays ? " inquired the landlord, evidently under some appre- hension as to the probability of this ultimate order being for cash. " Pays* knaye ! " shouted Scarthe, pulliug a gold piece fi-om hit Tl do ablet, and shying it in the landlord *s fkce. " Do y>i« take whe king'i euirassiers for highway robbers ? The wine — the wine ! Quick with It, or I'll draw your corks with the point of my sword." With the numerous staff, which an inn in those times could afford to maintain ; both the beer, and the more generous beverage, wert soon within reach of the Ups of those who intended to partake of them The national drink was brought first ; but out of deference to theb officers, the men refrained from partaking of it, till the sack was poured mto their cups. Scarthe seized the goblet presented to him; and, raising it aloft. called out : — "The King!" " The Kmg, by Ge-ged ! * seconded Stubbi. ** The King — ^the king ! " vociferated the half hundred Toices of theif followers — ^the bystanders echoing the phrase only in feint murmur ing. " Goblets to the ground ! " commanded the captain — at the same time tossing his own into the middle of the road. The action was imitated by every man in the troop — each throwing away his empty vessel, till the pavement was thickly strewn with pots of shining pewter. " Forward — ma-r-ch ! " cried Scarthe, giving the spur to his char- ger ; and with a mad captain at their head, and a maudlin cornet in the rear, the cuirassiers filed out from the inn; and took the road in the direction of Eed-hill. Despite the wine within him, the captain of the cuirassiers was, at the moment, in a frame of mind anything but contented. One of his reasons for having drunk so deeply, was to drown the recollection- yet rankling in his bosom — of the insult he fancied himself to have suffered on the preceding night; and which he further fancied to have lowered him in the estimation of his followers. Indeed, he knew this to be the case; for as he rode onward at the head of his troop, hifi whole thoughts were given to the black horseman ; and the mode by which he might revenge himself on that mysterious individual. Scarthe was on the way to country quarters — near which he had been told, the black horseman had his home — and he comforted him- self with the thought, that should these prove dull, he would find amusement in the accomplishment of some scheme^ by which his yen* geanoe might be Batisfieo coward ; and under the circumstances even a coward must have shown courage. Though still under the influence of a partial intoxication, he knew that bright eyes were upon him; he knew iuat high<-bom dames were standing THE DEFIANCE. fl iritliin ten paces of the spot ; and though hitherto, for reasons of hit 6wn, pretending to ignore their presence, he knew they had heen spectators of all that had passed. He had no intentions, therefore, of showing the white feather. Perhaps it was the individual who had thus presented himself, as much as his sudden appearance, that held him for the moment ■peechless ; for in the antagonist hefore him, Scarthe recognized th« nvalier who, in front of the roadside inn, had daringly drunk — " To THB Pkoplb ! " The BOUTenir of this insult, added to this new defiance, furnished m doable stimulus to his resentment — ^which at length found expres- sion in words. " You it is, disloyal knave ? You ! ** ** Disloyal or not," calmly returned the cayalier, *'I demand reparation for the slight you have offered to this respectable assem- blage. Your free fashions may do for Flanders — ^where I presume yonVe been practicing them — hut I must teach you to salute the fair maidens of England in a different style.'' **And who are you, who propose to give the lesson.** " No low-bom peasant. Captain Richard Scarthe. Don't fancy yon can screen yourself behind that coward's cloak. You must fight, or apologize ! " ''Apologize!'* shouted the soldier, in a fhrious voice, ''Captain Bcarthe apologize ! Ha, ha, ha ! Hear that. Comet Stubbs ? Did you ever know mi to apologize ? '* " Never, by Ged ! " muttered Stubbs, in reply. *' As you will then," said the cavaher, placing himself in an attitude lo eommence the combat. '•No, no ! •* cried Maid Marian, throwing herself in front of Holt- spur, as if to screen his body with her own. " You must not, sir. It is not fair. He is in armor, and you, sir " "No — ^it am t fair ! " proclaimed several voices; while at the same moment a large fierce-looking man, with bushy black beard, was )een pushing his way through the crowd towards the spot occupied by the adversaries. "*Twoan't do. Master Henry,'* cried the bearded man, as he eame up. " You mustn't risk it that way. I know ye're game for any man on the groun', or in England eyther; but it am't fair. Tht soger captain must peel off them steel plates o* his, and let the fighl U a fair'n'. WhaX say ye, meeate ? " M THE DEFIAITOB. This appeal to the bystanders was answered by cries of '^ Fail play, fair play ! The officer must take off his armor." " Certainly," said Walter Wade, at this moment coming up. " li these gentlemen are to fight, the conditions must be equal. Oi ooiwse. Captain Scarthe, you will not object to that ? ** "I desire no advantage," rejoined the cuirassier captain. '^H* may do as he likes ; but I sh^ not lay aside n^y armor an any account." " Then your antagonist must arm also," suggested one of the gentlemen who had accompanied Walter. " The combat cannot go on till that be arranged." ''No, no!" chimed in several voices, "both should bo armed alike." "Perhaps this gentleman," said one, pointing to the cornet, "will have no objection to lend his for the occasion ? That would sunplify matters. It appears to be about the right size." Stubbs looked towards his captain, as much as to say, ** Shall I refuse ? " " Let him have it," said Scarthe, seeing that the proposal could not well be declined. " He's welcome to it ! " said the comet, who instantly commenced unbuckling. There were hands enough to assist Henry Holtspur in putting on the defensive harness, and in a few minutes time he was encased in the steel accoutrements of the cornet — cuirass and gorget, pauldrons, cuisses and braces — all of which fortunately fitted as if they had been made for him. The helmet still remained in the hand of one of the attendants, who made a motion towards placing it upon Holtspur's head. '* No," said the latter, pushing it away. " I prefer wearing mjf beaver." Then pointing to the trophy set above its brim, he added : "It carries that which will sufficiently protect my head. An Eng- lish maiden has been insulted, and under the glove of an £ngUsh maiden shall the insult be rebuked." " Don't be so confident in the virtue of your pretty trophy,** rejoined Scarthe, with a sarcastic sneer. " Ere long I shall takf that glove from your hat, and stick it in the crest of my helmet. No doubt I shall then hare oome by it moro honestly than you hmn ione," THE DEFIANCE. ^3 rime enough to talk of wearing, when you have won it ; " quietly retorted the cavalier. " Though, by my troth," added he^ returning sneer for sneer, " you should strive hard to obtain it ; you •tand in nee4 of a trophy to neutraUze the loss of your spurs, left behind you in the ford of Newburn." The "Ford of Newbum " was Scarthe's especial fiend. He wai one of that five thousand horsemen, who under Conway had ignomi- niously retreated from the Tyne — spreading such a panic throughout the whole English army, as to carry it without stop or stay far into the heart of Yorkshire. Once before had Holtspur fluwg the dTsgrace- ful souvenir in his teeth; and now to be a second time reproached with it, before a crowd of his countr3^en, before his own followers — many of whom had by this time entered within the camp — but, above all, in presence of that more distinguished circle of proud and resplendent spectators, standing within earshot, on the moat above — that was the direst insult to which he had ever been subjected. As his antagonist repeated the taunting allusion, his brow, already dark, grew visibly darker ; while his thin lips whitened, as if the blood had altogether forsaken them. "Base demagogue!" cried he, hissing the words through his clenched teeth ; " your false tongue shall be soon silenced. On the •scutcheon of captain Scarthe there is no stain, save the blood of his enemies ; and the enemies of his King. Yours shall be mingled with the rest." " Come ! " cried Holtspur, with an impatient wave of his weapon. **I stand not here for a contest of tongues ; in which no doubt the accomplished courtier Scarthe would prove my superior. Our swords are drawn ; are you ready, sir? " No," responded Scarthe. "No?" interrogated his antagonist with m look of surprise. *" What — -" " Captain Scarthe is a cuirassier. He fights not afoot.' " You are the challenged party ! " put in Stubbs ; " You have the right of a choice, captain." " Our combat, then, shall be on horseback." " Thanks for the favor, gentlemen ! " responded Holtspur, with a pleased look. "My own wish exactly; though I had scarce hoped to obtain it. You have said the word — ^we fight on horseback." " My horse ! " shouted Scarthe, turning to one of his trooper* ^ Brin^ him up; and let the ground be cleared of this rabble." 94 THE PRELUDE. There was no necessity for the order last issued. As »oon M II had become known that the combat was to be fought on horseback, ^e people scattered on all sides — rushing towards the crest of thi Aoat; and there taking their stand — ^most of them delighted at the ^spect of witnessing s spectacle, which, eyen in those ehiyalroiii imes, was of imoommon occurrence. CHAPTEB XDL fHB PABLUOa, from tlie eommanding eminence, on which were chistered the ''quality folks," the preparations had been watched with a yivid Interest; and with emotions varying in kind. *• Splendid ! exclaimed Dorothy Dayrell, as the sword-blades were seen clashmg together. Beats the morris-dancers all to bits ! Just what I like ! One of those little interludes not mentioned in the programme of the entertainment. Surely we're going to see a fight." Lora Lovelace trembled, as she listened to these speeches " Oh, Dorothy Dayrell ! " said she, turning upon the latter an opbraiding look. *' 'Tis too serious for jesting. Tou do not mean it." ** But I do mean it, Mistress Lovelace. I'm not jesting. Not a \At of it. I'm quite in earnest, I assure you." ** Surely you would not wish to sei9 blood spilled ? '* "And why not ? What care I, so long as it isn't my own blood; «r that of one of my friends. Ah ! Ah ! Ah ! What are either ol these fellows to you, or me ? I know neither. If they're angry with each other, let them fight it out. Poh* poh ! They may kUl one another, for aught I care." ** Wicked woman ! " thought Laura, without making rejoinder. Marion Wade overheard the unfeeling utterances; but she was too mntiti occupied with what was passing on the plain below, to give THE PBELUMB, W heed to them. That mcipient suspicion, though still unsatisfied, wa noi troubling her now. It had given place to a feeling of apprehen sion for the safety of him who had been its object. " My God ! ** she murmured in sohloquy, her hands clasped or* der bosom — the slender white fingers desperately entwining each other. "If he should be killed! Walter! dear Walter!" she cried, earnestly appealing to her brother; ''go down, and stop it! Tel him— tell them they must not fight. Oh father, yoM will ii«l permit it ? ** *' Perhaps I may not be able to hinder them," said Walter, spring- ing out from among the circle of his acquaintances. " But I shall go down. You will not object, father ? Mr. Holtspur is alone, and may stand in need of a friend." " Go, my son ! ** said Sir Marmaduke, pleased at the spirit his son was displaying. " It matters not who, or what, he be. He is on/ guest, and has been your protector. If they are determined on fighting, see that he be shown fair play." " Never fear, father ! " rejoined Walter, hurrying down the slope. "And if that drunken cornet dare to interfere," continued he, half speaking to himself—" I'll give him a taste of my temper, very diffe- rent from what he had last night." As he gave utterance to this threat, the ex-courtier passed through the crowd, folloved by several other gentlemen ; who, from different motives, were also hastening towards the scene of contentation. " Come, Mistress Marion Wade ?" whispered Dorothy, in a signifi- cant way. " It is not your wont to be thus tender-hearted. What is it to OS, whether they fight or no ! It isn't your quarrel. This elegant cavalier, who seems to set everybody beside themselves, ia not y(mr champion, is he ? If any one has reason to be interested in his fate, by my trow, I should say it was the Maid Marian — aliai Bet Dancey. And certes, she does seem to take interest in him. See! What she's doing now, the modest creature ? By my word, I beheve the wench is about to throw herself upon his breast, and embrace him ! " These words entered the ears of Marion Wade with stinging effect. Suddenly turning, she looked down upon the sea of faces, that had thickened, and was swerving around the two men ; who were expect- ed soon to become engaged in deadly strife. Many of the cuirassien had arrived upon the ground, and their steel armour now glitterad oonspicuoualy arnon^ tho more sombre y^stmitnta of t||# oiriliii fimnfltatiftirir 9^ THE PEELUDK, Marion took no note of these ; nor of aught else, sare the half-mxyn figures that occupied the centre of the ring. Scarthe and his comet, Henry Holtspur, Kohin Hood, the Little John, and the Friar wen there; and there, too, was Maid !Marian ! What was she doing in the midst of the men f She had thrown herself in the front of the cavalier — ^between hhn feud his adversary. Her hands were upraised — one of them actually resting upon Holtspur's shoulder ! She appeared to be speaking in earnest appeal — ^as if dissuading him from the combat ! " In what way could the daughter of Dick Dancy be interested in the actions of Henry Holtspur ?" The question came quickly belbre the mind of Marion Wad<^ though it rose not to her lips. "Bravo ! cried Dorothy Dayrell, as she sa^f that the cavalier waf being equipped. " It's going to go on ! A combat in fiill armor I " W/>u't that be fine ? It remmds one of the good old times of the troubadours 1 " " Oh, Dorothy ! •* said Lora, " to be merry at such a moment !** Hush ! ** commanded Marion, frantically grasping t,he jester by the arm, and looking angrily into her eye. " Another word, Mistress Dayrell — ^another trifling speech — and yon and I shall cease to be friends.** *' Indeed ! ** scornfully retorted the latter, *' What a misfortune that would be for me ! '* Marion made no rejoinder. It was at this moment that Scarthe had flung out his taunt about the glove in the hat of his antagonist. Maid Marian heard the speech, and saw the action. " Whose glove ! ** muttered she, as a pang passed through hef heart. Marion Wade heard the speech, and saw the action. " My glove ! " muttered she, as a thrill of sweet joy vibrated through her bosom. The triumphant emotion was but short-lived. It was soon sup* planted by a feeling of anxious apprehension ; that reached its climax^ as the two cavaliers, each bestriding his own steed, spurred their horses toward the centre of the camp — ^the arena of the intended combat. With the exception of that made by the horsemen, as they rode trampling over the turf, not a movement could be observed within ot proimd the wlos^ 9t tbf mi^Jj^ * ^ ^^ ^9^ 9f ^ WW forn^ 97 that girdled the ground were as motionless, as if they had bee*, turned into stones; and equally silent — men and women, youths and maidens, all alike absorbed in on© common thought — all voicelessly gazing. The chirrup of * grasshopper could have been heard throughout the encampment. This silence had only commenced, as the combatants came forth upon the ground, in readiness to enter upon action. While engaged In preparation, the merits of both had been loudly and freely discus- «ed and bets had been made, as if the camp were a cockpit ; and the cavaliers a main of game birds, about to be unleashed at each other. The popular feeling was not all at one side ; though the " black horseman " was decidedly the favorite. There was an instinct on the part of the spectators that he was the pcopWs friend ; and, in those tyrannous times, the phrase had an important signification. But the crowd was composed of various elements ; and there was more than a minority who, despite the daily evidence of royal out- rages and wrongs, still tenaciously clung to that, the meanest senti- aient that can find home in the human heart — loyalty. I mean Uryalty to a throne. In the captain of cuirassiers, they saw the representative of that thing they had been accustomed to worship and obey — that mys- terious entity, which they had been taught to believe was as necessary to their existence as the bread which they ate, or the beer they drank — a thing ludicrously styled " heaven-descended " — deriving its au • thoiity from God himself— a king. Notwithstanding the insult he had put upon them there were num- bers present ready to shout — " Huzza for the cuirassier captain ! " Notwithstanding his championship of their cause, there were numbers upon the ground ready to vociferate — " Down with the black horseman ! " All exhibitions of this sort, however, had now ceased ; and, in the midst of a profound silence, the mounted champions, having ridden clear of the crowd, advanced towards each other with glances re* (eiprocally expressive of death and determination. THB DOMBAT. OHAPTEB XX. ma ooMBAV. It WAS a terrible sight for the soft eye of • woman to look upoxL The timid Lora Lovelace would not stay ; but ran oflf towards th« house, followed by many others. Dorothy Darell called after them, jerring at their cowardice ! Marion remained. She could not drag herself from the approach- mg spectacle ; though dreading to heboid it. She stood under the dark shadow of a tree ; but its darkness could not conceal the wild look of apprehension with which she regarded the two mailed horse- men moving from opposite sides of the camp, and frowningly approach- ing one another. Out rang the clear notes of the cavalry bugle, sounding the ** charge." The horses themselves understood the sigTvA«; and, needed no spurring to prompt their advance. Both appeared to know the purpose for which they had been brought forth. At the first note they sprang towards one another — snorting mutual defiance — as if they, like their riders,^ were clos- ing in mortal combat ! It was altogether a duello with swords. The sword, at that time, was the only weapon of the cuirassier cavalry, excepting their pistols ; but by mutual agreement these last were not be used. With blades bare, the dueUists dashed in full gallop towards each other, Scarthe crying out : " For the King ! " while Holtspur, with equal energy raised the antagonistic cry : " For the People ! " At their first meeting, no wound was given, or received. As the steeds swept past each other, the ring of steel could be heard — sword blades glinting against cuirass and corslet — ^but neither of the com- batants appeared to have obtained any advantage. Both wheeled almost at the same instant ; and again advanced to the charge. This time the horses came into collision. That of the cuirassier was seen to stagger at the shock ; but although, during the moment- irjr suspension of the gallopj tji^ §w9r4-bla4^« of tho ggmbatants werf 99 tmsy in mutual out und tkrust, they separated 4tt oefore, appai^jntly without mjury on either side. The collision, however, had roused the ire both of horses and riders ; and, as they met for the third time, the spectators could note in the eyes of the latter the earnest anger of deadly strife. Again rushed the horses together in a charging gallop, and m«t with a terrific crash — both weapons and defensive armor colliding at the same instant. The steed of the cuirassier recoiled from the Impetus of his more powerful adversary. The black horse swept on unscathed ; but as he passed to the rear, the hat of Holtspur was lifted upon the breeze ; and fell behind him upon the grass. Trifling as was the incident, it looked ominous. It was the first that had the appearance of a triumph ; and elicited a cheer from the partisans of the cuirassier captain. It had scarce reached its climax, ere it was drowned by the more sonorous counter-cheer that hailed the performance of the black horseman. Having wheeled his horse with the rapidity of thought, he rode back ; and, spitting his beaver upon the point of his sword, he raised it up from the ground, and once more set it firmly upon his head ! All this was accomplished before his antagonist could turn to at- tack him ; and the sang froid exhibited in the act, along with the graceful equitation, completely restored the confidence of his sup- porters. The fourth encounter was final — ^the last in which the combatants met face to face. They closed in ftdl gallop; thrust at each other; and then passed on as before. But Holtspur had now discovered the point in which he was supe- rior to his adversary; and determined to take advantage of it. The steeds had scarce cleared one another, when that of the cava- lier was seen suddenly to stop — reined backward, until his tail lay spread upon the grass. Then turning upon his hind hoofs, as on a pivot, he sprang out in full gallop after the horse of the cuirassier. The black horseman, waving his sword in the air, gave out a shout of triumph — such as he had erst often uttered in the ears of Indian Ibemen — while the horse hinuelf^ as if conscirus of the advantage thus ^ined, 4ent forth ft shrill neigh, that resembled the scream of • jaguar. 100 THE OOMaA.T. With t glano^ Oter his shoulder, Scarthe perceived the approaching danger. By attempting to turn, he would expose himself sideways to the thrust of his adversary's sword. There was no chance to turn just then. He must make distance to obtain an opportunity. His only hope lay in the fleetness of his Bteed, and trusting to this, he sai^ the spur deeply, and galloped on. This new and unexpected manoeuvre had all the appearance of a retreat; and the camp rang with cries of— " Coward ! " "He is conquered !*' " Huzza for the black horseman ! ** For a moment Marion Wade forgot her fears. For a moment proud pleasant thoughts swept through her breast. Her bosom rose and fell under the influence of triumphant emotions. Was he not a hero — a conqueror — worthy of that heart she had wholly given him ? She watched every spring of the two steeds. She longed to see iiie pursuer overtake the pursued. She was not cruel ; but she wished it to be over; for the suspense was terrible to endure. Marion was not to be tortured much longer. The climax was dose at hand. On starting on that tail-6n-end chase, the cuirassier captain had full eonfldence in his steed. He was a true Arab ; possessing all the strength and swiftness of his race. But one of the same race was after him ; stronger, and swifter than he. like an arrow from its bow, the steed of the cuirassier shot across the sward. Like another arrow, but one sent with stronger nerf, swept the sable charger in pursuit. Across the camp — out through the cleared causeway — over the open pasture of the park — galloped the two horsemen, as if riding a race. But their blazing armor, outstretched shining blades, angry looks and earnest attitudes — all told of a different intent. Scarthe had been for some time endeavoring to gain distance, in order to have an opportunity of turning face to his antagonist. With the latter clinging closely behind him, he knew the manoeuvre to b« dangerous if not impossible — without subjectmg himself to tho thrust of Holtspur's sword. He soon began to perceive another danger— that of being overtaken. The spectators had discontinued their shouts ; and once more, a profound silence reigned throughout the camp. It was like the silence that precedes some expected catastrophe — some crisis inevitable. From the beginning his pursuer had kept constantly gaining upon likn. The fore hoofe of the sable charger now appeared at every l(h bound to overlap the hind heels of his ow». horse. Should the chase continue hut a minute longer, he must certainly he oyertaken ; fot the blade of the cavalier was gleaming scarce ten feet behind his back. The climax was near. " SuiTender, or yield up your life I '* demanded Holtspur in a de- termined voice. " Never ! " was the equally determined reply. " Richard Scarthe never surrenders — least of all to " " Your blood on your own head, then ! ** cried the black horse- man, at the same instant urging his horse to * final burst o) speed. The latter gave t long leap forward ; bringing him side by side with the steed of the cuirassier. At the same instant, Holtspur 'a sword was seen thrust horizontally outwards. A cry went up from the crowd, who expected next moment to see the cuirassier captain impaled upon that shining blade. The cuirass of the time consisted only of the breast-plate; and the back of the wearer was left unprotected. Undoubtedly in another instant, Scarthe would receive his death wound ; but an accident saved him. As Holtspur 's horse leaped forward, the hind heels of the other struck against his off fore leg, causing him slightly to swerve ; and thus, changing the direction of the sword-thrust. It saved the life of Scarthe ; though not his limbs : for the blade of his antagonist entering his right arm, just under the shoulder, passed clear through — striking against the steel rear-brace in front ; and sending his own sword shivering into the air. The cuirassier captain, dismounted by the shock, in another instant lay sprawling upon the grass ; while his horse, with trailing bridle^ continued his onward gallop, wildly neighing as he went. " Cry quarter, or die ! " shouted the cavalier, flinging himself from his saddle; and with his left hand grasping the cuirassier by th« gorget, while in his right he held the threatening blade. " Cry quarter or die ! " "Hold!" exclaimed Scarthe. "Hold! " he repeated, yrith the addition of a bitter oath. ** This time the chance has been yours. I take quarter." " Enough," said Holtspur, as he restored his sword to its sheath. Then, turning his back upon his vanquished antagonist, he walked silently away IM .: .TiliS COMBAT. The spectators descended from their elevated position ; and^ clu« tering around the conqueror, vociferated their cheers and congratu- lations. A girl in a crimson cloak ran up, and, kneeling in front, presented him with a hunch of flowers. It was the insulted maiden, who thus gracefully acknowledged her gratitude. There were two pairs of eyes that witnessed this last episode, with •n expression that spoke of pain : the blue eyas of Marion Wade, And the green ones of Will Walford — the representative of England's outlaw. The original Robin could never have been more jealous ol the original Maid Marian. Marion Wade witnessed the presentation of the flowers, and their reception. She saw that the gift was acknowledged by a bow, and a smile — both apparently gracious. It never occurred to her to ask herself the question : whether the recipient, under the circumstances, could have acted otherwise ? She stayed not to witness more; but, with brain distraught, and bosom filled with fell fancies, she glided across the glacis of the old •ncampment ; and, in hurried steps, sought the sacred shelter of her Ikther's roof. Though hors d» combat y Scarthe was not fatally hurt. He had re- ceived only the one thrust — ^which, passing through his right arm, had disabled him for the time ; but was not likely to do him any permanent injury. He was worse damaged in spirit than in person ; and the purple gloom that overshadowed his countenance told his followers, and others who had gathered around him, that no expression either of ■ympathy, or congratulation, would be welcome. In silence, therefore, assistance was extended to him ; and, in silence WTis it received. As soon as the braces had been stripped from his wounded arm, and the semi-surgeon of his troop having stemmed its bleeding, had placed it in a sling, he forsook the spot where he had fallen ; and walked direct towards the place occupied by Sir Marmaduke and his friends. The ladies had already taken their departure — ^the sanguinary inci- dent having robbed them of all zest for the enjoyement of any further sports. The knight had remained upon the ground — chiefly for the pur- pose of discovering the object of Captain Scarthe's presence in hif pwrlL tHE COMBAT. ^ 103 He was determined laa longer to remain in ignorance as to tha •ause of the intrusion ; and was about starting out to question th6 intruder himself, when the approach of the latter admonished him to keep his place. From Scarthe's looks, as he came forward, H was evident that an iclaircissement was at hand. Sir Marmaduke remained silent — leaving the stranger to commenoe the colloquy, which was now inevitable. As soon as Scarthe had got within speaking distance, he demanded, In an authoritative tone, whether Sir Marmaduke Wade was present upon the ground. The interrogatory was addressed to the rustics standing upon the •ward below. They, perceiving that Sir Marmaduke had himself heard it, kept silence — ^not knowing whether their host might desire an affirmative uvswer to be given. The tone of impertinence prevented Sir Marmaduke from replying, and the interrogatory was repeated. Sir Marmaduke could no longer preserve silence. " He is present, " said he, without qualifying his answer by any title, or salutation, "/am Sir Marmaduke Wade." " I am glad of it, good sir. I want to speak a word with you. Shall it be private ? I perceive you are in company." " I can hold no private conversation with strangers," replied thi knight, drawing himself proudly up. " Whatever you have to say, sir, may be spoken aloud," "As you wish. Sir Marmaduke," acquiesced Scarthe, in a tone oi mock courtesy. " But if, to my misfortune, you and I have been hitherto strangers to each other, I live in hope that this unpleasant condition of things will soon come to an end; and that henceforth we shall be better acquainted." " What mean you, sir ? Why are you here ? " "I am here, Sir Marmaduke, to claim the hospitality of your house. By-the-way, a very handsome park, and apparently a com- modious mansion. Room enough for all my people, I should think ? It would scarce be courtesy between us if, eating, drinking, and sleeping under the same roof, we should remain strangers to one another ! " Eating, drinking and sleeping under the same roof ! You arc merry, sir!** 104 ** With the prospect of such pleasant quarters, i4)uld you expect me to be otherwise. Sir Marmaduke ? '* "After the lesson you have just received," replied the knight, returning irony, ** one might expect to find you in a more serious frame of spirit." ** Captain Scarthe can show too many scars to trouble himself about such a trifle as that you allude to. But we are wasting time, Sir Marmaduke. I am hungry : so are my troopers ; and thirsty. We feel inclined to eat and driii." •* You are welcome to do both one and ^he otbff. ITou will find an inn three miles farther up the road." "Nearer than that," rejoined Scarthe, with an insulting laugh, "that's ovr inn." And as he said this, he pointed to the mansion of Sir Marmaduke^ standing proud and conspicuous on the crest of the opposite hill. "Come sir! said the knight, losing patience, " speak no longer in enigmas. Declare openly, and at once, what you are driving at." " I am only too desirous to oblige you, Sir Marmaduke. Standing in need of refreshments as I do, I can assure you I have no wish to procrastinate this imseemly interview. Cornet Stubbs ! " he conti- nued, turning to his subaltern ; " if I am not mistaken, you carry a piece of royal parchment in your pocket. Please draw it forth ; and do this worthy gentleman the favor to make him acquainted with its contents." The comet, who had re-incased himself in his suit of s4;eel, inserted his fingers under the breast-piece of his cuirass ; and presently produc- ed a folded parchment, upon which a large red seal was conspicuous. Unfolding it, he read aloud — " 21ie jKing to Sir Marmaduke Wade, " His Majesty hearing by good report of ye loyalty of Sir Marmo' duke Wade, of JSulstrode Park, in ye shire of JBuckingham, doth hereby entrust to him ye keep and maintenance of ye Captain Scarthe and his troop of horse till such time as his Majesty may need ye sam4 for ye service of his kingdom ; and furthermore, his Majesty do recrnn- mend ye said Captain Scarthe to ye hospitality of Sir Marmaduke ca a worthy and gallant officer and gentleman, who has done good servict to his country and king, " Given under ye great seal of his Majesty, at Whitehall Palac^ this \^th <% of October^ Anno Domini, 1640. Cabolus Rhx." 4» m CHAPTER XXI. 8T0K1 HJUM. The traveler, journeying among the ChUtem Hills, will often fin4 himself on the summit of a ridge, that, sweeping round mpon itself, encloses a deep basin-like valley, of circular shape. Many of these natural concavities are af considerable size — ^having % superficial extent of several hundreds of acres. Often a farm homestead may be seen nestling within their sheltered limits ; and hot unfrequently a noble mansion, surrounded by green pastures — these again bordered by a belt of forest trees, cresting the summit of the surrounding ridge — the whole appearing like some landscape picture, set in a circular frame. Such a picture was presented in the valley of Stone Dean; a fair mansion in the centre of a smiling park, with a rustic framework of beeching forest, coping the hills that encircled it. The day was when the park and mansion of Stone Dean may have been kept in better repair. At the period of which we write, about both was visible an air of neglect — ^like a painting that has hung un- heeded against the wall, till tarnished by dust and time. Both dwelling and outbuildings exhibited evidences of decay ; and but little sign of occupation. But for the smoke rising out of one of its tottering chimneys — and this not always to be seen— one yiewing the house from the ridge above would have come to the conclusion that it was uninhabited. The shrubbery had become transformed into a thicket ; the pastures, over-grown with. g^rbQ, genista, and bramble, more resembled a waste than a park enclosure ; while the homed cattle wandering over them, appeared as wild as the deer browsing by their side ; and, when startled by the step of the intruder, were equally alert in seeking the concealment of the sur- rounding forest. Neither domesticated quadruped, nor bird appeared about the wall* or within the enclosures ; where a human voice was rarely heard to interrupt the shrill screech of the jay from the bordering woods j the clear piping of the blackbird amid the neglected shrubbery; and 6» loll STOKE DEAK. the monotonous cawing of the rooks upon the tops of the tali ehi trees, that, holding hundreds of their nests, darkly overshadowed tbi dwelling. In tru th, Stone Dean had been a long time untenanted, except bj one of those peculiar creatures termed " caretakers;*' a grey-headed old veteran, who appeared less an occupant than a fixture of the place. He, his dog— old Uke himself— and a cat equally venerable, had for many years been the sole denizens of the " Dean." No one in the neighborhood knew exactly to whom the estate belonged. Even its last occupier had been only a tenant at will ; and the real owner was supposed to reside somewhere abroad — vk the plantations of Virginia, it was believed. There were not many who troubled their heads by conjectures upon the subject ; for Stone Dean lay so miich out of the line of the ordinary roads of the country, that but few persons ever found occa- sion to pass near it. Few could say they had ever been in sight of it. There were people living within five miles of the place that did not even know of its existence ; and others who had once known and forgotten it. Of late, however, the " Old house of Stone Dean " ha4 become a subject of some interest ; and at the fairs, and other village gather- ings, its name was often pronounced. This arose from the circum* stance : that a new tenant had displaced the old fixture of a caretaker — ^the latter disappearing from the place as quietly and inexplicably as he had occupied it ! About the new comer, and his domestic menage^ there was an air of peculiarity approaching the mysterious. Such of the peasants, as had found pretext for visiting the house, reported that there was but one servant in the establishment — a yoimg man, with a copper- eolored skin, and long straight black hair, who answered to the name of " Oriole ; " and, who appeared to be of the race of Ameri- can Indians — a party of whom from the Transatlantic Plantations liad about that time paid a visit to England. It was further known that Oriole, either could not speak English, •r would not. At all events, the visitors to Stone Dean had not been able to elicit from the servant any L^roat amount of inf- •'• respectmg the master. The master hihiself, however, wns not Inn- rr'^ulriif in th- of Bucks before he became \v<«l] t^non it V "(kvu t<< his h He was in the habit of mtM^tniL^ rh.Mi! !> '\i '< ijtk''. » "^ lor ttaldiigt; of entering inl« free converse with them on many subjects —more especially on matters appertaining to their political welfare* And seemed to lose no opportunity of giving them instructive hints in regard to their rights as well as Vfrongs. Such sentiments were neither new nor uncongenial to the dwellers ftmongst the Ohil terns. They had long been cherished in thei/ hearts ; but the dread of the Star Chamber hindered them from rising to their lips. The man, therefore, who had the courage to give speech to them could not fail to be popular among the worthy yeomanry of Bucks ; and such, in reality, had become the occupant of Stone Dean, in a few short weeks after taking up his residence in their county. This individual possessed other claims to popular favor. He was » gentleman — nobly born, and highly bred. His appearance and b^ havior proclaimed these points beyond cavil; and in such matters, the instinct of the rustic is rarely incorrect. Furthermore, the stranger was a person of elegant appearance ; perhaps not regularly handsome, but with that air of savoirfaire, and bold bearing, sure to attract admiration. Plainly but richly dressed ; a splendid horse- man, and riding a splendid horse withal ; frank and affable, not as if condescending — for at this the instinct of the rustic revolts — ^but distinguished by that simple unselfish spirit, which characterizes the true gentleman, how could Henry Holtspur fail to be popular ? Such was the cavalier, who had conquered the arm of Captain Scarthe, and the heart of Marion Wade. * • • * • % # It was the night of that same day, on which the fte had been held in the Park of Sir Marmaduke Wade. The unexpected arrival of the cuirassiers — ^with the exciting circumstances that succeeded — had brought the sports to an early termination. After incidents of so tragical a character, it was not likely thai any one should care to continue the tame diversion of quoits, or balloon. Even single-stick, and wrestling appeared insipid — succeed* ed to that strife, that had well-nigh proved deadly. Long before night, the old camp had become cleared of its crowd. Though groups lingered later in the park, it was not in pursuance of sport, but out of curiosity; and to converse about what was passing at the mansion — ^whither the cuirassier captain and his troopers had transported themselves, after reading that ironical appeal to th^ lospitalit^ of its owii«r. AmoLg cht ,i»rliest who had left the ground was the conqueror m the equestrian combat. He could not have gone direct home ; or he must have again ridden abroad, since at a late hour of the night— his horst dappled with sweat and foam — he was seen turning out of the king's highway into the bridle-road already described, as running over the ridges in the direction of Stone Dean. As the woods extended nearly the whole of the way, he rode in •hadow — though a bright moon was beaming in the heavens above. He rode in silence too. But the subject of his thoughts may be easily conjectured. Treading a track oft hallowed by her presence, what but Marion Wade could he be thinking of? More unerringly might his sentiments be divined, when, on reach- ing the open glade, he stopped under the spreading beech, raised his beaver from his head, and gazed for some seconds upon the white glove, glistening beneath its panache of black plumes. As he did so, his features exhibited a mingled expression — half fondnesSi half fear — ^as if his mind was wavering between confidence and doubt. It was an expression difficult to read ; and no one ignorant of the circumstances of his life — perhaps no one but himself —could have given it the true interpretation. Henry Holtspur had more than one thought to sadden his spirit ; but the one which most troubled him then was, that she, who had given the glove — ^for he fondly clung to the belief that it had been a gift — that she had ceased to think either of it or of him. It was now six days since that token had been received; and excepting at the fete, he had not met her again. She came no more outside the enclosure of the park — ^no more was the track of her palfrey impres- sed upon the forest patn Why had she discontinued those lonely rides — those wanderings ID the wood, that had led to such sweet encounters ? For days past, and every hour of the day, had Holtspur been asking himself this question ; bui as yet it remained unanswered. Little did young Walter Wade suspect the profound, though well- concealed pleasure with which his fellow-traveler had heard, and accepted his proffered hospitality. The promised introduction on the morrow would surely enable the lover to obtain some explan- ation — if only a word — to resolve the doubt that had begun to torture him? That morrow had arrived. The introduction had been gi^en. Th^ interview ha4 exkd^> ill-starrec \^ w4ght deem it ^ sfece th^ lot conduct of Marion lemamed iuexplicabU as ever. Her speechel during the brief dialogue held between them had appeared even cold. With more pain than pleasui'e did Holtspur now recall them, Man of the world as he was — far from being unskilled in woman 'i lieart, or the way of winning it — he should have reasoned differently. Perhaps had the object of this new passion been an ordinary woman, he might have done so. Many had been his conquests; maidens of many cUmes, and of many shades of complexion— dark and fair, brunette and blonde — all beautiful, but none so brilliantly beautiful as that blue-eyed, golden-haired Saxon girl, who had made conquest of his heart, and held even his reason in captivity. He gazed upon the glove with a glance at once tender and inquiring — as if he might obtain from it an answer to that question of all- absorbing interest; — whether, under the shadow of that sacred tree, it had fallen to tht ground by accident, or whether it had been dropped by design ? His steed struck the tur^ with impatient hoof, as if demanding « reply. " Ah ! Hubert,** muttered his rider, "much aa I love you — even despite the service you have this day done me — I should part with you, to be assured, that I ought to esteem this spot the most hal- lowed upon the earth. But, come, old friend ! that's no reason why you should be kept any longer out of your stall. You must be tired after your tournament, and a trot of twenty miles at its termi- nation. I' faith, I'm fatigued myself. Let us home, and to rest ! '* So saying, the cavalier, by a slight pressure of his knees againsi the side of his well-trained steed — a signal which the latter perfectly onderstood — once more set Hubert in motion; who carried him ttlentlj away from that seen* of uncertain souyenin. UO THE footpad's CONFESSTOJf. GEAPTSB XUL It iras I»U at night when Harry Holtspnr passed beitireen the Uy- mantled piers that supported the dilapidated wooden gate of Stons Dean Park. The massive door of the old mansion was standing open, as he rode forward to it. A light, faintly flickering within the hall, showed in dim outline the wide doorway, with its rounded arch of Norman architecture. Midway between the jambs could be distinguished the figure of a man — standing motionless — as if awaiting his approach The moon was shining upon this individual with sufficient clearness to show that he was a young man of medium stature, straight as a lance, and habited in a sort of tunic, of what appeared to be dressed deerskin. His complexion was a reddish brown — darker from the shadowing of a shock of jet-black hair ; while a pair of eyes, that glistened against the moonlight, like two circular discs of highly polished ebony, exhibited no appearance of surprise at the approach of the horseman Something resembling a turban appeared upon the young man's head; while his legs were wrapped in leggings of similar material to that which composed the tunic; and his feet were also encased in a chaussure of buckskin. A belt around his waist showed a pattern if colored embroidery; with a short knife stuck behind it, resting diagonally over the region of the heart. Up to the moment that the horseman made halt in front of the doorway, this individual had neither spoken nor moved — not even as much as a finger ; and with the moonlight full upon his fece, and revealing his dusky complexion, it would not have been difficult for a stranger to have mistaken him for a statue of bronze — the stoop of the doorway appearing as its pedestal, and the arch above ans- wering to the alcove, in which it had been placed. It was only after the horseman had fairly checked his steed to a stand, thaf the statue condescended to step down from its nicti^ \ teB FOOTPAirS OOlffFBSSION. IH Then, gliding ibrward with the stealthy tread of a cat» the Indian —for such was this taciturn individual — caught hold of the hridli rein ; and stood waiting for his master to dismount. ** Walk Hubert about for five minutes," said the latter, as he leaped led him to proceed in that direction. On entering this homely apartment, he beheld the individual, who had done him the honor to await his coming home at such a late houi of the night. A glance inside betrayed the presence of Gregory Garth. The ex-footpad was stretched along a large beechwood bench, in front of the fire; which, though originally a good one, was now in a somewhat smoldering condition—the half-burnt fagots having parted in twain, and tumbled down on each side of the andirons There was no lamp ; but from the red embers, and the blaze that intermittently twinkled, there came light enough to enable the cavalier to identify the form and features of his visitor. Their owner was as sound asleep, as if in his own house, and jreclining under the coverlet of his own couch; whilst a stentorian snore, proceeding from his spread nostrils, proclaimed a slumber from which it would require a good shaking to arouse him. "So, Gregory Garth! " muttered the cavalier, bending over the sleeper, and gazing, with a half-quizzical expression, into the coun* tenance of his quondam retamer, " It's you, my worthy sir, I have the honor of entertaining? " A prolonged snore — such as might proceed from the nostrils of a rhinoceros — ^was the only response. *^ I wonder what's brought him here to-night, so soon after^-^ Ul BhaQIawaka liimand ask; or leare him to snore %w&y till thi morning?" Another trumpet-like snort seemed intended to iigmfy tbe assent of the sleeper to the latter couirse of proceeding. "Well," continued the cavalier, "I'm rather pleased to find him here. It looVs as if he had kept his promise • and disbanded those terrible brigands of his. I trust he has do: fi. There *s a spark of good in the rascal, or used to be ; thoug/ /ho knows whether it hmsn't been trampled out before this. Jiy. » igfrom the soundness of that slumber, one can scarcely think t? * ■& anything very heavy upon his conscience. Whatever he has d ;, it's to be hoped he has kept clear of ' ' The cavalier hesitated to pronounce tlr drd that had come upper- ciost in his thoughts. "Holding a ten-foot pike within twe mches of a man's breast, is ugly evidence against him. Who k », ;s what might have been the result, if I hadn't identified thos^ ' t tures in time ? "Shall I let him sleep on ? It's r»»at