CAPTAIN 
 LOVE 
 
 
 THEODORE ROBERTS
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY Of
 
 CAPTAIN LOVE
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 THEODORE 
 
 Captain Lose .... $1.50 
 
 The Tied Feathers. . . 1.50 
 
 {Brothers of 'Peril ... 1.50 
 
 Hemming, the Adventurer 1.50 
 
 L. C P^GE dr COMPANY 
 
 New England Building, Boston, Mats.
 
 " AT LAST A FEW LINES WERE ACCOMPLISHED." 
 
 (See page 194.)
 
 CAPTAIN LOVE 
 
 The History of a Most 'Romantic vent in the 
 Life of an English Gentleman During the Reign of 
 His Majesty George the First. Containing Inci- 
 dents of Courtship and 'Danger as Related In the 
 Chronicles of the Period and Now Set Down in 
 Print 
 
 THEODORE ROBERTS 
 
 j4uthor of " T^ed Feathers, " " Brothers of 'Peril, 
 ' ' Hemming the Adventurer, ' ' etc. 
 
 Illustrated by 
 
 LOUIS T>. COWING 
 
 BOSTON <& L. C. <PAQE & 
 COMPANY & 36CDCCCCVIII
 
 Copyright, igo8 
 BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY 
 
 (INCORPORATED) 
 
 Entered at Stationers' Hall, London 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 First Impression, April, 1908 
 
 COLONIAL PRESS 
 
 Electrotype* and Printed by C. H. Simonds fy Co. 
 Boston, U.S.A.
 
 TO 
 
 e. w. B, 
 
 AND 
 
 . K.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. ON THE HIGHWAY i 
 
 II. THE NAMELESS GENTLEMAN ... .10 
 
 III. THE HOUSE ON THE HEATH ... . 24 
 
 IV. A FACE AND A DREAM .... 35 
 V. THE NAMELESS GENTLEMAN FINDS A NAME 44 
 
 VI. SIR JOHN'S TOWN ESTABLISHMENT . . 52 
 
 VII. BLOWS AND FRIENDSHIP .... 60 
 
 VIII. CONFIDENCES 71 
 
 IX. THE HIGH ADVENTURE .... 79 
 
 X. MORE ABOUT THE RESCUED LADY . . 94 
 
 XI. THE MEETING in 
 
 XII. THE HELL -RAKE 122 
 
 XIII. THE BEGGAR 134 
 
 XIV. THE CAPTAIN'S OUTBREAK .... 145 
 XV. TROUBLE WITH CREIGHTON . . . .157 
 
 XVI. IN THE DARK 169 
 
 XVII. THE DAY AFTER 178 
 
 XVIII. THE CAPTAIN'S TEMPTATION . . .190 
 
 XIX. PARSON LOVE 200 
 
 XX. DISCLOSURES 209 
 
 XXI. FAREWELLS 222 
 
 XXII. AT THE WHITE HERON . . . .231 
 
 XXIII. " EXPECT ANS EQUITO" .... 245 
 
 XXIV. A BUSY NIGHT 255 
 
 XXV. MR. CHESTER'S CHANGE OF PLANS . . 268 
 
 XXVI. JULIA 276
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " AT LAST A FEW LINES WERE ACCOMPLISHED " 
 
 (See page 194) Frontispiece 
 
 "THE FOOTMAN'S MUSKET BELLOWED OVERHEAD" . 9 
 " STRUCK HIS BEWILDERED PURSUER TO THE 
 
 GROUND " 37 
 
 MAN AND WEAPON THUMPED UPON THE FLOOR" . 85 
 " LAID A HAND ON HIS ARM AND SMILED UP AT 
 
 HIM " IO2 
 
 " THE FORLORN MAN OF THE SEA SHUFFLED INTO 
 
 THE ROOM" . . ... . . . . 139
 
 CAPTAIN LOVE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ON THE HIGHWAY 
 
 AT about the fall of dusk of a rare June evening, 
 in a country of bosky woodlands and fat meadows, 
 a travelling carriage rolled, with sedate celerity, 
 along the highway. The vehicle was large and well 
 appointed, with fine arms emblazoned on the doors, 
 four portmanteaus in the rumble with the guard 
 and four horses in the harness. The postilions and 
 the fellow behind were in liveries of buff and blue, 
 and each wore that air of massive calm which pro- 
 claims a trusted servant of the great. Inside the 
 carriage sat . two gentlemen at their ease, talking 
 with animation, laughing now and then, and hon- 
 estly enjoying the fading landscape and the clean, 
 fragrant air that blew through the lowered win- 
 dows. Their talk was as the talk of old and tested 
 friends, comfortable, unforced and sincere. 
 
 The elder of the two gentlemen in the carriage 
 1
 
 2 Captain Love 
 
 looked to be of about forty years of age. Though 
 he was of no uncommon bigness for an English- 
 man, there was that in the bearing of chest and 
 shoulders suggestive of great strength. His com- 
 plexion, by its dusky tint and innumerable fine 
 wrinkles, told of exposure to alien suns; and by the 
 level regard of his eyes and the set of his jaws, the 
 dullest fool would have known him a commander 
 of men. Courage, manliness and a zest for adven- 
 ture were marked honestly upon him; and some- 
 where about the eyes and mouth was a play of 
 tenderness that told of a gentle heart under that 
 alert and tempered exterior. He showed no points 
 of lofty genius; but that he was of the salt of the 
 earth a discerning stranger would acknowledge at 
 a glance. 
 
 The younger of the two gentlemen was taller, 
 handsomer, and of a slighter build than his com- 
 panion. His face wore an air of gentle melancholy 
 when in repose, but his smile was quick and whim- 
 sical and set his dark eyes gleaming. His long, 
 claret-coloured coat was more richly laced than his 
 companion's; his slim hands were elegantly gloved 
 and for such was the taste of the day a deli- 
 cate perfume exhaled from the frills of his shirt 
 and the laces at his wrists. In his cheeks was some-
 
 On the Highway 
 
 thing of the pallor of the student and his voice, 
 even when raised in laughter, was softly modulated 
 and clear as a bell. 
 
 " Old London is the pick of the world," said the 
 elder of the two travellers. " I've drunk my liquor 
 in many cities, Harry, but nowhere have I caught 
 the taste and the comfort of it as in this same old 
 town to which we are now rolling along. Give me 
 an English inn, lad, and that in the thick of Lon- 
 don, and the devil may have all the foreign places, 
 and welcome." 
 
 " And yet those foreign places are not to be 
 lightly considered," replied the other. " Three or 
 four such come very pleasantly to my mind, even 
 at this moment." 
 
 " Like enough, like enough," cried his com- 
 panion ; " but do not forget that you saw them as 
 a rich traveller, rolling from town to town like a 
 prince, while I, sight-seeing and looking for rest 
 between campaigns, was of but little more conse- 
 quence than a private soldier. But in the London 
 taverns I know of not the highest, mind you, 
 but the most comfortable a poor devil of a cap- 
 tain is as good as a duke, so long as he has the 
 coin on the table and a voice with which to make 
 himself heard."
 
 4 Captain Love 
 
 The other, sunk in reverie, made no reply to this 
 praise of London taverns. His quick spirit had 
 passed back to the north, and the wounds in his 
 young heart were bleeding again. The soldier, 
 noting and understanding, set himself to lift the 
 mood. 
 
 " I can scarce believe this to be your first trip 
 to London," he said. " You have the best air al- 
 ready, lad, if I've ever seen it. Many a dandy who 
 has spent years in the old town would give a plump 
 fortune for your grace of manner. Manners is the 
 cry nowadays, and t'hell with the morals! The 
 higher you climb, the lower you go, I've heard it 
 said." 
 
 " Damn their morals ! " exclaimed the other. 
 Then, smiling, " Might it not be," he asked, " that 
 Paris and the cities of Europe, the halls of Oxford 
 and the training of my parents, are as fit polishers 
 for a gentleman's manners as the courts and coffee- 
 houses of London ? " 
 
 " You are right there," replied the soldier, " but 
 you do not catch the nicest shade of my meaning. 
 You are not only what no child of your noble 
 father and lovely mother could help being an 
 aristocrat, a scholar, and a sportsman but, as 
 surely as you are all these and a poet beside, you
 
 On the Highway 
 
 are a type of the most select and most modern Lon- 
 don dandy. Harry, the thing is a chance gift of 
 the gods and has but little to do with your travels, 
 your education, or your imposing ancestry." 
 
 Again the gentleman addressed as Harry smiled ; 
 but now with a touch of indulgence. 
 
 " Jack, you are a wonderful fellow," he said. 
 " Not content with winning medals and scars in 
 half the kingdoms of Europe you must prod into 
 my origin which, Heaven knows, is plain as a 
 pike-staff until you find that I am begotten of 
 the gods, polished by inspiration and educated by 
 fate with no credit at all for the wise doctors at 
 Oxford. Jack, I have hitherto looked upon you as 
 nothing but a hearty friend and a dashing soldier; 
 but now, I fear me, you'll be writing a book." 
 
 For a moment Jack looked puzzled. Then he 
 laughed doubtfully. " You're right, Harry ; an 
 humble friend I am, and a battered soldier, God 
 knows," he said. " It's the wine we drunk at 
 luncheon that's making an Oriental philosopher of 
 me and a devilish silly flatterer to boot. If you 
 prove but half as witty as your mother and half as 
 brave as your father, then I'll expect great things 
 of you in London Town." 
 
 " We'll expect some rare sport, whatever I
 
 6 Captain Love 
 
 prove," replied Harry. " How goes that song, 
 Jack?" 
 
 " Which song? " inquired the honest soldier. 
 
 For answer, Harry hummed the opening bars of 
 a tune familiar to his companion. 
 
 " Ah, now I have it," he cried. " I invented it 
 this very morning, in bed at The Royal Oak. 
 Stand ready, Jack, to support the chorus." 
 
 In an expressive tenor, he sang : 
 
 " Nancy's brow is white as snow. 
 Nancy's lips are cherries. 
 Nancy's little teeth, arow, 
 Gleam like candle-berries. 
 Here's a health to Nancy, then 
 Our Queen with eyes o' brown 
 For she'll be wed to Parson, Jack. 
 E'er we get back from town. 
 
 11 Rolling up to London Town, 
 Merry boys together ! 
 Never think of what's to pay 
 Never mind the weather ! 
 
 a M'Lady's brow is white as milk ; 
 Her Grace's teeth are coral ; 
 The marchioness is robed in silk ; 
 The countess points a moral. 
 So here's to all the ladies, Jack, 
 With eyes of blue or brown 
 For we'll be wed to some one, Jack, 
 E'er we get back from town.
 
 On the Highway 
 
 " Rolling up to London Town, 
 Merry boys together ! 
 Never think of what's to pay 
 Never mind the weather ! " 
 
 The soldier, sitting very erect, lent a ringing bass 
 to the chorus. The postilions grinned as they heard 
 it. The fellow behind rapped out the air on the 
 stock of his musket and hummed it deep in his 
 throat. Harry struck up another verse : 
 
 " Sweet, your name I do not know 
 Queen of London village. 
 I'll lay siege to brows of snow 
 And take your heart by pillage ! 
 Tell me Are your eyes of blue, 
 Black, or merry brown ? 
 Tell me Will you love me true, 
 Queen of London Town ? 
 
 " Rolling up to London, Jack, 
 Merry boys together ! 
 Never reck if we'll get back ! 
 Never mind the weather ! " 
 
 " Very good. Very good indeed," remarked the 
 soldier. " A deal better, I swear, than the verses 
 of many a London poet. But I take exception, my 
 dear Harry, to the alteration in the chorus." 
 
 " I did that on the spur of the moment," replied 
 Harry. 
 
 " And I have an objection to make to the send-
 
 8 Captain Love 
 
 merit of your song," said Jack. " I, for one, am 
 not going up to town to find a wife Heaven for- 
 bid! A soft military command is what I have in 
 my mind's eye. After twenty-two years of the 
 knocks of a soldier's life I am now looking out for 
 some of the nuts." 
 
 " And you deserve them, my dear fellow," said 
 the other. 
 
 " As for this queen of London Town," continued 
 the soldier, ignoring his friend's remark " be 
 sure she is queen of your heart, as well. It's a big 
 town and a bad one, lad, with many a black heart 
 behind white breasts and many a false tongue be- 
 hind those red lips of which we sang. Take a sol- 
 dier's word for it, my noble friend a sure sword, 
 though of little comfort in days of peace, is a safer 
 mate for a young man than a ravishing beauty." 
 
 Harry's smile was grim as he laid a hand on 
 his friend's knee. " Do you expect me to admit, 
 even to you, that I've learned a lesson? " he asked. 
 Then " You take my song too literally and I 
 do believe you have inherited a taste for preach- 
 ing." 
 
 " If I preach," replied the soldier, " I assure you 
 the taste for it is not inherited. My father, worthy, 
 reverend and beloved man, depends on a dog-eared
 
 On the Highway 9 
 
 volume of Bishop Maypole's ' Reflections ' for his 
 sermons unless he has changed mightily during 
 my absence. He carries the book into the pulpit 
 with him for who's to gainsay him in Dodwater ? 
 and reads his chapter openly and honestly." 
 
 At that moment the coach drew to a standstill 
 and one of the postilions dismounted and lit the 
 lamps. Then the journey was continued at a lively 
 pace. 
 
 " Another hour, at this rate, will bring us to a 
 decent tavern, if my memory serves me," remarked 
 the soldier. 
 
 The words had scarcely died on his lips before 
 a pistol shot rang above the rolling of the wheels 
 and the pounding of the hoofs. The vehicle 
 lurched, and stopped short so suddenly that both 
 gentlemen were thrown violently forward on to 
 their hands and knees. The footman's musket bel- 
 lowed overhead. Another pistol shot spoke and 
 was followed close by a scream of agony. Curses 
 were shouted, in tones of dismay and exultation; 
 and over went the fine carriage into the ditch, amid 
 a rending of harness and a clattering of gear.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE NAMELESS GENTLEMAN 
 
 THE tenant of Nullwood Lower Farm, William 
 Holt by name, entered the kitchen of the farm- 
 house with heavy tread. His whole broad face 
 glowed moistly through the dispersed sweat of his 
 brow. A few dried blooms of early clover and a 
 long straw of timothy-grass clung to his woollen 
 stockings. His wife, who stood by the door of the 
 bake-oven, turned sharply at his entrance. 
 
 " Not so heavy ! " she cried. " Lord-a-mercy, 
 ye stump like a fatted ox ! " 
 
 " Fiddle-de-dee, woman ! I walks like an honest 
 farmer," retorted Holt. " D'ye look to find a 
 gentleman at every turn of your silly old head ? " 
 he added. 
 
 At that moment a girl entered from an inner 
 room. Her rustic charms were heightened by a 
 glow in her cheeks and a fine radiance in her eyes. 
 
 " He axed me where he was/' she whispered. 
 " And oh, he did look at me real sensible." 
 
 10
 
 The Nameless Gentleman 11 
 
 With an exclamation of satisfaction, the farmer 
 started towards the door by which his daughter had 
 just entered the kitchen. His good dame cried 
 after him that his face needed washing and his 
 manners mending; but he held on his way and en- 
 tered the shaded chamber on the toes of his great 
 boots. 
 
 In a tumbled bed in a corner lay a young man. 
 His face was pale and thin, but of a high distinction 
 of feature. Lip and chin were covered with the 
 down of a youthful beard. But his eyes were clear 
 and sane. He smiled gently in reply to his host's 
 respectful salutation. 
 
 " And now, young gentleman," said the farmer, 
 " I wants to know what your name may be an' 
 where ye comes from. For two weeks come Satur- 
 day, me wife an' darter has tended ye like one of 
 our own blood beggin' your Honour's pardon 
 for sayin' so an' now we'd like to know just who 
 ye may be." 
 
 The sick man stared at the yeoman with puzzled 
 eyes. " You ask me who I am," he said " well, 
 to tell the truth, I do not seem to know." 
 
 The farmer scratched his head and shuffled on his 
 feet. " Dang they foot-pads an' dang they fevers," 
 he muttered. " What the one begins t'other finishes
 
 12 Captain Love 
 
 an' not a surgeon to bleed ye this side o' Taver- 
 ton," he added. 
 
 The sick man watched him keenly; and now, 
 very feebly; he spoke again. Low as his voice was, 
 it trembled with eagerness. 
 
 " You talk of fever and foot-pads," he said. 
 " You say that your wife and daughter have nursed 
 me for two weeks come Saturday and still you 
 ask me who I am and where I come from. I think 
 it is for you to answer questions, my good friend." 
 
 " Ax away," retorted the rustic, smiling broadly. 
 
 " Then how the devil do I happen to be in bed 
 in a farmhouse chamber? " asked the other. 
 
 " How? " cried Holt. " Why, dang it, my gen- 
 tleman, baint a farmer's bed soft enough for your 
 lordship?" 
 
 At that moment the girl opened the door and en- 
 tered the room. " Dad," said she, " be that the way 
 to talk to the gentleman an' him sick. Ye'll have 
 him ravin' an' rollin' again if ye shouts so loud. 
 Leave him be ! Leave him be ! " 
 
 Without more ado she pushed her offending 
 parent from the room and closed the door on his 
 heels. Then, going over to the bedside she fed the 
 invalid with broth from a great bowl. He sipped
 
 The Nameless Gentleman 13 
 
 from the pewter spoon like a child. Presently he 
 raised his fine eyes to the maiden's. 
 
 " You will think me very foolish," he said ; " but 
 will you kindly tell me my name." 
 
 " Oh, sir," she cried, " I do not know your name. 
 But how gladly would I help you if I could." 
 
 For a little while he lay with his eyes closed and 
 his brows wrinkled. 
 
 " Lord, I can remember nothing," he exclaimed, 
 suddenly. 
 
 " Sir, you must lay quiet. You must rest your 
 mind else all our trouble will count for nought," 
 whispered the girl. 
 
 For answer the sick man, looking at her steadily 
 but unseeingly, chanted : 
 
 " Sweet, your name I do not know 
 Queen of London village. 
 I'll lay siege to brows of snow 
 Take your heart by pillage. 
 Tell me, are your eyes of blue, 
 Black, or merry brown ? 
 Tell me will you love me true, 
 Queen of London Town ? " 
 
 " Lor, sir," cried the girl, " what be ye about 
 now? Your Honour have sung that song a score 
 o' times, an' talked an' talked about it."
 
 14 Captain Love 
 
 "And what else did I talk about?" he asked, 
 leaning sidewise on his pillow. 
 
 " Ye called me Jack many's the time ye called 
 me so," said the girl. " An' ye talked about Lun- 
 non about me an' you Jack an' you, your 
 Honour a-goin' to Lunnon. An' ye cried out 
 about the queen ; an' oncet ye spoke of yer dad, 
 an' oncet " 
 
 " Of my father ? " inquired the invalid 
 " Then surely I said his name ? Surely, else how 
 would you know of whom I spoke ? " 
 
 The girl began to weep, and shook her head. 
 
 " Nay, sir, ye gave him no name," she sobbed. 
 " The best father in the country ay, the best in 
 England that be what ye said, sir ; an' when ye 
 first opened your eyes ye called dad ' Julia.' ' 
 
 When the young man awoke next morning he 
 felt stronger. For an hour or two he lay quiet, try- 
 ing and trying to grasp some thread out of that 
 past which his brain had let slip. The incidents of 
 the previous day the farmer's visit, and his talk 
 with the girl were clear enough ; but beyond that 
 his mind could lay hold of nothing save the words 
 of a foolish song : 
 
 " Sweet, your name I do not know 
 Queen of London village."
 
 The Nameless Gentleman 15 
 
 " If I but knew my own it would be more to the 
 purpose," he murmured. 
 
 A shaft of sunlight was streaming across his bed, 
 from the deep-set lattice, when the farmer's daugh- 
 ter at last entered with his breakfast of gruel. He 
 ate eagerly, cleaning the bowl to the last drop. 
 
 " And now," he said, " I should like to know the 
 cause of my sickness. Will you tell it me, my 
 lass?" 
 
 Nothing loath, the girl put by the bowl, drew a 
 stool to the bedside and told what she knew of how 
 he chanced to become an inmate of Nullwood 
 Lower Farm. And this was the way of it. Tom 
 Pawn, a labourer, had come knocking at the farm- 
 house door at peep of day, with an awful story of 
 foot-pads and murder in his mouth. At the word 
 " foot-pads " the good yeoman had pulled the 
 blankets about his ears ; but, in a twinkling his wife 
 had shot him on to the floor and urged him into a 
 few of his most needful garments. After which he 
 had followed Tom Pawn a matter of half a mile 
 down the highway and there, in the softly 
 spreading lights of the summer dawn he had looked 
 upon the great coach overturned in the ditch. The 
 doors had been torn from their hinges, evidently 
 as the quickest way of disposing of the arms
 
 16 Captain Love 
 
 thereon. Five victims of the assault lay on the 
 road. All were naked to the waist. Three of the 
 dead men were proclaimed servitors by the quality 
 and condition of their boots. The other two 
 gentlemen at a glance had been stripped even to 
 their feet. And one of these was seen to have a 
 spark of life still aglow in him and him the 
 rustics had rolled in a smock and carried back to 
 the farmhouse. 
 
 The invalid caught the girl's wrist in his thin 
 ringers, as she finished her story. 
 
 " By God," he cried, " that outrage shall be paid 
 for in blood. Nameless I may be, but I swear it on 
 the oath of a gentleman. Those honest fellows in 
 the muddy boots ye gods, I feel it in my blood 
 they were my servants. And the poor, dead gentle- 
 man ? who was he but my friend ? Ay, my 
 friend, though my memory holds nothing of him 
 not an echo of his voice not a line of his face " 
 and with a gesture at once pathetic and menacing, 
 the youth turned his face to the pillow and eased 
 his grief with tears. 
 
 Thus the farmer and his wife found them the 
 sick man sobbing in the pillow and the simple girl 
 blubbering beside the bed. 
 
 " Rip my innards," exclaimed Holt, " but here be
 
 The Nameless Gentleman 17 
 
 a merry company." The dame grasped her daugh- 
 ter by the shoulder and jerked her to her feet. 
 
 " Pack yoursel' out o' this, my lass. Churnin' 
 be awaitin' on ye," she cried; and, with more 
 strength than skill, propelled the maid from the 
 room. The disturbance both aroused and calmed 
 the gentleman in the bed. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this ? " he inquired, 
 discovering his face to his entertainers. 
 
 " Axin' yer pardon, sir," said the woman, " but 
 this baint no time fer tears. Eye-water an' fever 
 be friends, an' ye've had yer fill o' fever." 
 
 "An' what may be the trouble?" asked the 
 farmer. 
 
 " I mourn my murdered friend and my murdered 
 servants," replied the youth. 
 
 " Ay, your Honour," said the farmer, " an' what 
 might their names be?" 
 
 " Nay, that I cannot tell you, my good fellow," 
 answered the other. " My past lies in their graves." 
 
 Day by day the nameless gentleman recovered 
 health and strength. Though every incident of his 
 past life had been wiped from his memory, either 
 by the blow on his head received from the highway- 
 man, or by the fever, his brain was sane and capable 
 as ever and the results of his old training 1 had been
 
 18 Captain Love 
 
 spared to him. In a Latin book, which some clerkly 
 traveller had left at the farmhouse, he read with 
 ease and delight. 
 
 In those days this fact in itself was sufficient to 
 mark him as a person of quality. Farmer Holt 
 made inquiries at several of the houses of the near- 
 est gentry; but none of the aristocracy of that 
 region missed either a friend or a relative. 
 
 One day in September the restless spirit of youth, 
 and the desire to fare into the world and seek his 
 lost name and identity, grew too strong for the 
 nameless gentleman to withstand. He sought out 
 the farmer, who was alone in his wheat-field. 
 
 " Master Holt," said he, " my heart bids me out to 
 seek my lost place in the world. I may find it under 
 my true name or under another; but find it I will. 
 And then, my friend, a hundred golden pounds will 
 be yours and the life-long protection of a powerful 
 person." 
 
 The stout yeoman leaned on his scythe. 
 
 " Ye speak bravely," he said, " but what pledge 
 have I that ye speak truth ? " 
 
 " The word of a gentleman," replied the other. 
 
 " Of a nameless gentleman of a penniless gen- 
 tleman of a gentleman picked naked out of a 
 ditch," said the farmer.
 
 The Nameless Gentleman 19 
 
 " Fellow," cried the young man, " take care, lest 
 you do yourself a hurt. Was it not the very rich- 
 ness of my clothing that caused my nakedness? 
 Did you not see, with your own eyes, the marks on 
 my fingers where rings had been ? Mend your ad- 
 dress, my good friend, or else the profit of your 
 kindness may escape you." 
 
 " I ax yer pardon, sir," said the yeoman, who 
 was easily cowed by the other's high spirit. " I 
 meant to take no liberty with your Honour, I 
 swear. An' maybe, sir, ye'll find your name an' 
 your great friends in Lunnon." 
 
 " Then shall I not forget my honest friend of 
 Nullwood Lower Farm," replied the youth. " Stap 
 me, but I'll buy you the farm, man, and the dame 
 and the lass gowns of silk," he added. 
 
 " Thank'ee kindly, sir," said the farmer. There 
 was a twinkle in his dull eye. " An' don't forget, 
 sir," he continued, " that ye be carryin' away with 
 ye many a shillin's worth o' good cream, an' meat, 
 an' ale an' many a night's good nursin'." 
 
 " The debt shall be honoured," replied the gen- 
 tleman, with dignity. 
 
 Clad in ill fitting yeoman clothes, with an oak 
 cudgel in his hand and a loaf of Dame Holt's bread 
 in his pocket, the man bereft of memory and
 
 20 Captain Love 
 
 worldly place set his feet bravely to the king's high- 
 way. The shadows lengthened across the fields and 
 dusk stole out from the plantations of oak and 
 pine; and something in the balmy air and fading 
 lights stirred the ghosts of memories in the way- 
 farer's brain. 
 
 " My friend was beside me," he murmured 
 " and we sang as we rolled along. And the song 
 abides with me ; but, dear Lord, I cannot pierce the 
 shadows to my comrade's face. Nameless, penni- 
 less, I go afoot to London, who started so grandly 
 in a rocking coach." 
 
 Busied with such thoughts, and with vain at- 
 tempts to awaken some nerve of the dead past, he 
 tramped along until darkness closed down upon the 
 landscape and faint stars twinkled overhead. Then, 
 knowing that caution serves the poor as well as the 
 rich on the king's highway for a throat is as 
 easily slit as a purse he made a den for himself 
 in the hedge-row and lay down to sleep. But his 
 busy brain, harking back on a dead scent, kept him 
 wide-eyed and restless. 
 
 Of a sudden the traveller's coursing wits were 
 recalled to him by a shrill and shaken cry the 
 scream of a woman in terror. Quick as thought 
 he darted from his retreat to the middle of the
 
 The Nameless Gentleman 21 
 
 wide road. Half-way down the slope which dipped 
 London-wards before him shone the lanterns of a 
 carriage. And again the scream of fear rang on 
 the air. He sprang to the shadows along the ditch 
 and ran noiselessly. The cudgel of oak swung in 
 his hand, balanced to a nicety. The lust of battle 
 sang in his head like the fumes of wine. The un- 
 certain light of the stars showed him a small car- 
 riage, a pair of docile nags, a postilion with his 
 craven face hidden in his arms, and a mounted man 
 beside the coach with head and shoulders thrust 
 inside. Leaping up, he gripped the robber by the 
 belt, dragged him side-long from the saddle and 
 cracked his head with the club of oak. The fellow 
 sprawled and lay quiet. The post-boy sat up and 
 applied his spurs; and amid feminine screams and 
 masculine curses from within, and cries for more 
 speed, the carriage dashed on its way. 
 
 The rescuer stood on the gray road and gazed 
 after the bounding vehicle. 
 
 " I wonder is she old or young, a beauty or a 
 shrew ? " he murmured. He caught the highway- 
 man's gray horse by the rein and made it fast to a 
 thorn-tree. Then, bending down to his victim, he 
 found the heart still moving and the breath flutter- 
 ing.
 
 22 Captain Love 
 
 " Now shall the robber be robbed," said he. 
 
 The highwayman's garments were new, and of 
 superior stuffs and workmanship. The young man 
 pulled them off, from hat to boots, and donned 
 them himself. Thrusting a hand into a pocket of 
 the coat that fitted him so fairly, he felt a little col- 
 lection of coins and rings. On the saddle he dis- 
 covered a leather bag stuffed with gold, and fine 
 pistols in the holsters. He carried the senseless 
 robber to the shelter of some bushes and covered 
 him with the smock-frock and rustic garments 
 which he himself had so lately worn. Then, 
 mounting the gray horse, he rode on towards Lon- 
 don. 
 
 He had not ridden more than a mile before he 
 was suddenly joined by a shadowy horseman who 
 issued, without warning, from the gloom of a 
 thicket. The stranger rode up to his knee. 
 
 " Dennis, you fool," he cried, " where be the 
 old knight's money-bag an' the young lady's 
 trinkets ? " 
 
 The gentleman did not turn his face; but his 
 right hand unfastened the leather bag from where 
 it was hooked beside his right holster. 
 
 " Here is the money," he said and bestowed
 
 The Nameless Gentleman 23 
 
 the weight of it so viciously upon the other's crown 
 that the fellow reeled in his saddle. 
 
 Thereupon the nameless gentleman touched spurs 
 to his good gray horse and sped Londonwards at 
 a gallop.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE HOUSE ON THE HEATH 
 
 THE gallop of the gray horse soon shifted to a 
 trot, and from that, again, to a walk; and the 
 nameless gentleman, feeling that the immediate 
 need of hurry was passed, did not apply the spur. 
 The night was fine and still, and grayly lit with a 
 myriad of small stars. The highway ran wide and 
 pale between open heaths. Save for the measured 
 striking of the gray's shoes on the road, and the 
 creak of saddle-leather, the only sound was that of 
 a dog's barking, somewhere in front and to the 
 right. What with the blood-glow of the recent ad- 
 venture, the stir of good horse-flesh between his 
 knees, the charm of the night and the thought of 
 the bag of gold, the* young man felt a fine elation. 
 He squared his shoulders and looked proudly 
 around at the vague and haunting desert. He 
 patted the neck of the gray, jingled the coins and 
 trinkets in his borrowed pockets and, ignoring the 
 dangers of the place and hour, began to sing. He 
 
 24
 
 The House on the Heath 25 
 
 was not conscious of a knowledge of either the 
 words or tune; but they came to his brain and 
 tongue as required, with no apparent effort on his 
 part. He sang it to an end, and then, thinking to 
 try it again, was amazed to discover that he remem- 
 bered not a word of it. " My head is playing me 
 queer tricks," he murmured. In distress, and fallen 
 completely from his mood of a moment before, he 
 began to rack his brain for some memories of the 
 past. 
 
 " A hint might lead to everything," he reflected. 
 " Just a name, or the picture of a place, or the re- 
 membrance of a voice, and maybe all that I have 
 lost will return to me. But are things to flash into 
 my mind, only to slip away again like the song I 
 sang a moment ago? God, that would drive me to 
 madness. Nay, but I must unearth that ditty again, 
 though it crack my skull." 
 
 So letting his horse continue to walk forward 
 at its own pace, he set himself laboriously to refind 
 the words and air of that sentimental song. 
 Though the effort was untimely, it was heroic. 
 The charm of the night and the open road called 
 to him, and dangers beset him, like as not ; and yet 
 he sat slack in the saddle, with downcast eyes, and 
 applied himself to the schooling of his wayward
 
 26 Captain Love 
 
 mind. Other songs came to him among them 
 the rhymes concerning the queen of London Town 
 but he brushed them aside. 
 
 At last the gray horse stopped short. 
 
 " Hi, there, Barney, get down an' come inside. 
 The drink is ready for you," cried a shaking and 
 unpleasant voice. The nameless gentleman sat 
 straight and looked about him. He was in a muddy 
 yard, with low buildings in front and on one side. 
 He slid his right hand to the butt of a pistol. 
 
 " Drink ? By gad, that's the very word," he 
 said; and without shifting his position he sang. 
 
 " Drink to me only with thine eyes 
 And I will pledge with mine." 
 
 A door shut violently and bolts were shot; but 
 he finished the song. 
 
 " I'll not forget that again," he said at last. 
 Greatly relieved, he gave all his attention to a swift 
 survey of his surroundings. 
 
 " A dirty hole," he thought, " and a nest of 
 rogues, I'll swear. Well, as I am learning the ways 
 of the world, I'll look into it, if possible." 
 
 He reined the gray close to the building, which 
 showed not so much as a chink of light and was 
 now silent as the grave, and clattered a stirrup-iron 
 against the door.
 
 The House on the Heath 27 
 
 " Now I am ready for that drink," he shouted. 
 
 A window opened above his head, with slow and 
 furtive creakings. He touched a spur to the gray 
 and wheeled aside. 
 
 " Who comes to my poor house at this ungodly 
 hour and demands drink?" asked the same harsh 
 voice that had accosted him before. 
 
 " A traveller who is both athirst and weary," he 
 answered, keeping a sharp eye on the direction of 
 the window. 
 
 " That's a fine horse you are sitting on," re- 
 marked the unseen guardian of the house. 
 
 " It is a good horse," replied the gentleman. 
 
 At that moment a lighted candle appeared in the 
 window, as if suddenly uncovered, and the face and 
 shoulders of a most repulsivenlooking old woman 
 were disclosed to the horseman's view. 
 
 " Come closer, that I may see your face," she 
 said, leaning forward from the casement. 
 
 "If you can tell me who I am, I shall be glad 
 to hear it," replied the gentleman, and at the same 
 time he removed his hat and rode into the candle- 
 light. 
 
 The hag studied his face without any light of 
 recognition in her bright and evil eyes ; but at sight
 
 28 Captain Love 
 
 of his clothing and mount a low gasp escaped her. 
 But in a moment she was smiling. 
 
 " You are a stranger to these parts, sir, an' that's 
 true enough," she said. " This poor house is not 
 often honoured by gentry like you. The great 
 travellers go posting by, with never a thought for 
 poor honest old Meg, who has kept this decent 
 place for fifty years. I'll wake the gaffer, to stable 
 your fine charger, sir, an' I'll lay out a bottle of 
 claret, an' a cold joint, an' air the best bed for you. 
 So get down, sir, get down." 
 
 " Nay, dame, I'll stable the nag myself," replied 
 the traveller. 
 
 He found the hovel that served for a stable, and 
 three horses already in it. The place was in com- 
 plete darkness, but he felt his way about and 
 learned, by cautious feeling, that all the horses were 
 saddled and bridled. 
 
 " This place is a highwayman's retreat," he de- 
 cided, and discretion urged him to mount and gal- 
 lop away. But the spirit of daring, which burned 
 in him like a flame, would not hear of so tame a 
 course. In the manger of an unoccupied stall he 
 found a box of grain and an armful of hay. These 
 he promptly lifted, and still leading the gray, he 
 left the hovel and advanced upon the open heath.
 
 The House on the Heath 29 
 
 Within a hundred yards of the building he came 
 to a small tree and a clump of bushes, and here 
 he tied his steed, loosened its girths, and fed it. 
 Then, very quietly, he got the other horses and 
 fastened them in the same place. 
 
 " So far, so good," he remarked to himself, and 
 after removing two primed pistols from the hol- 
 sters of a saddle and placing them in his pock- 
 ets, he returned to the house and knocked on the 
 door. 
 
 The room was wide and low, and imperfectly 
 lighted by two tallow candles on the table and a 
 lanthorn hanging by the chimney. Despite the 
 saddled nags outside, the room showed no signs 
 of the presence of guests. The old woman stood 
 by the table, on which were displayed a bottle, a 
 platter, half a loaf and an unattractive fragment 
 of cold mutton. Beside the chimney sat a very 
 ancient man, gazing at the ashes on the hearth and 
 nodding foolishly. He wore a shawl about his bent 
 shoulders, a red woollen night-cap on his uneasy 
 head, and his thin legs were bare. 
 
 ' You do a lively business, dame," remarked the 
 traveller, as his glance searched every shadowed 
 corner of the room. " With four horses in the 
 stable, and four hungry and thirsty men inside,
 
 30 Captain Love 
 
 you must make a pot of gold in the run of a 
 year." 
 
 " Not so, your Honour," replied the hag, eying 
 him sharply. " The house is as empty as the gaf- 
 fer's head, an' the three nags you saw in the stable 
 were put there but an hour ago by three strange 
 gentlemen who, I'll swear, are up to some devil- 
 ment or other. They were London gentry, I take 
 it, and very frisky with liquor. They went run- 
 ning off across the heath like schoolboys, without 
 so much as tellin' me nor the gaffer their names, 
 nor when they'd be back for their horses." 
 
 The traveller seated himself on a stool near the 
 table, with one shoulder to the old woman, one to 
 the old man, and his face to a ladder which led 
 from a corner of the room to the loft above. 
 
 " Men act very queerly, when in liquor," he said, 
 pretending to believe the hag's feeble lie. " For 
 my own part, I never drink except when I am flat 
 on my back, in bed," he continued, pleasantly. 
 " It's a trick I learned in the Low Countries, when 
 I was soldiering there. Then the liquor lies quiet, 
 midway between your head and your feet, and is 
 comfortably digested by reveille. But when a man 
 drinks standing, the stuff goes to his feet, and gets 
 shaken about, and soon the bubbles are rising and
 
 The House on the Heath 31 
 
 bursting in his head, and making him act like the 
 gentlemen who left their nags in your stable." 
 
 The woman eyed him suspiciously, but his face 
 was as innocent as a child's. The old man turned 
 from his contemplation of the cold ashes on the 
 hearth. 
 
 " Rip my innards," he piped. 
 
 The traveller was busy with the bread and mut- 
 ton and paid no heed to his host's exclamation. 
 
 " Of all the whoppers I ever did hear an' I've 
 heard a-plenty." 
 
 " Don't you begin a-talkin'. You shut your 
 mouth," snapped the woman. 
 
 " Nay, now, Sue," objected the old fellow. 
 
 " Nay, now, wouldn't you let me join in a social 
 talk. I'll let nothin' slip, girl, that'll get you an* 
 the gang into trouble." 
 
 The woman skipped across the room and fairly 
 snarled a word in his ear. Whatever the word was, 
 it reduced him immediately to his former silence 
 and foolish contemplation of the hearth. 
 
 " Bill has been a good husband to me," she said, 
 returning to the table, " but his head isn't right, 
 an' gets more an' more wrong every day, an' full 
 of all manner of queer notions. He's been a soldier 
 too, has Bill, and fought for his king an' country,
 
 32 Captain Love 
 
 like your Honour. But you haven't drunk your 
 wine, sir. That's good wine, too, what I keep a few 
 bottles of for gentry like yourself." 
 
 " I'll take it along to bed with me, dame and 
 two more like it, if you'll be so kind," said the 
 traveller. He took a gold piece from his pocket 
 and laid it on the table. " Two more bottles like 
 this," he said, " and you can keep the silver. Hurry 
 it along, dame, for I am ready for my bed." 
 
 The hag snatched the coin from the table, ex- 
 amined it closely and popped it into a bag at her 
 girdle. 
 
 " I'll be back in two shakes," she said, and 
 hastened from the room, closing the door behind 
 her. The old man immediately turned in his seat 
 and beckoned to the traveller, who, needing no sec- 
 ond bidding, stepped noiselessly across to him. 
 
 " Don't you get into that bed," mumbled the 
 gaffer. " Don't so much as touch it, for God's 
 sake." 
 
 " What d'ye mean ? " whispered the gentleman, 
 with a break in his voice. 
 
 But the gaffer would say no more, and motioned 
 him to return to his seat. 
 
 " This is buying experience at a high price," re-
 
 The House on the Heath 33 
 
 fleeted the traveller. " This is worse than I ex- 
 pected, and cursed uncanny. The old woman is a 
 devil, I do believe and I'd give half my bagful 
 of gold to be safe out of it. Lord, what a fool I 
 was to thrust my head into this damnable hole." 
 
 But upon the return of the old woman with the 
 two bottles of wine, he seemed as bland and un- 
 shaken as ever. With a smile and a bow, he re- 
 lieved the hag of the bottles. 
 
 " Now, dame, I am ready for a good night's 
 sleep," he said. 
 
 " I'll show your Honour to as fine a bed as there 
 is in the country," she replied. " I always keep it 
 clean and fresh, for such as you." 
 
 The gaffer stirred uneasily by the cold hearth. 
 The dame took one of the candles from the table, 
 and led the way down the full length of the room, 
 to a door in the wall beside the ladder. The trav- 
 eller, who had expected to be asked to ascend to the 
 loft, with the chance of receiving a blow on the 
 head as he popped it through, felt decidedly re- 
 lieved. On the threshold he took the candle from 
 the dame's hand, but cast an apprehensive glance 
 around the interior before stepping within. What 
 he saw was a fair-sized chamber, very neat and
 
 34 Captain Love 
 
 clean, with one window, furniture consisting of a 
 chair, a table, and a great bed with curtains of silk. 
 It all looked innocent enough, Heaven knows. 
 
 " 'Tis the chamber I keep for the quality," re- 
 marked the hag, following her guest's glance with 
 an evil smile. " An earl has slept in that bed, an' 
 a general officer, and two fashionables from Lon- 
 don an' they made no complaints." 
 
 " I am sure it is fit for a duke," replied the 
 traveller. 
 
 " A duke ? Is your Honour a duke ? " 
 
 " No, dame, I am a poor soldier." 
 
 " Good night, colonel, an' sweet dreams to you." 
 
 " Good night, dame."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A FACE AND A DREAM 
 
 THE nameless gentleman set his candle and wine 
 on the table beside the bed, then returned to the 
 door and cautiously shot the bolt. The words of 
 the old man by the hearth had stirred him to un- 
 easiness verging on fear, and to a sense of the 
 danger of his position more keenly than had the 
 three saddled horses in the stable and the sinister 
 eyes and behaviour of the old woman. In the 
 warning against the great bed was something that 
 chilled his marrow. He was not afraid to take 
 chances with the owners of the nags in the stable; 
 but to suspect danger from a piece of furniture 
 that was the very devil. It came to his mind that, 
 somewhere and sometime, he had heard tales of 
 travellers vanishing suddenly from lonely inns; of 
 strange and terrible contrivances set in wardrobes 
 and bedsteads ; of floors falling from under one's 
 feet, and ceilings descending and smothering; of 
 sweet potent drugs at one's nostrils and knives stab- 
 
 85
 
 36 Captain Love 
 
 bing a man from his sleep and stabbing him back 
 to a longer slumber. Such thoughts, in that still 
 and dim-lit room, rasped his nerves and bedewed 
 his body with the sweat of fear. With shaking 
 and fumbling hands he removed his boots, and drew 
 forth his pistols. He made a slow circuit of the 
 chamber, searching the walls for a peep-hole or 
 hidden door. Failing to discover anything of the 
 kind, he crossed to the window. It was unbarred 
 and unfastened, and opened low on the side of the 
 tavern toward the stables. It possessed no inner 
 fastenings by which it might be held against an 
 attack from without. Even should the bed prove a 
 safe resting-place, the owners of the horses in the 
 stable would have but little trouble in dealing with 
 the sleeper. 
 
 Dawn was growing, pale and gray, between the 
 edge of the sky and the edge of the desolate heath. 
 The nameless gentleman placed his boots and pis- 
 tols on the floor, close to the window. Then, mov- 
 ing on tip-toe, he parted the curtains o>f the bed and 
 gazed fearfully within. He could see nothing but 
 the sheen of fine linen, and the bulking of white 
 pillows at the head. A fragrance of sweet herbs 
 stole across his face. With the greatest caution, he 
 lifted the table and laid it in the middle of the bed;
 
 " STRUCK. HIS BEWILDERED PURSUER TO THE GROUND.'
 
 A Face and a Dream 37 
 
 then returning to the window, he drew on his boots, 
 recovered his pistols, and waited, keeping a sharp 
 watch both within and without, and his ears as alert 
 as his eyes. 
 
 He had stood so for ten minutes, perhaps, when 
 a thin, clicking sound from the bed caught his at- 
 tention. This was followed immediately by a 
 sharp, metallic clang, a jarring underfoot and a 
 loud splash in hidden depths beneath the floor. A 
 brief silence followed, which was broken horribly 
 by a peal of shrill and devilish laughter from some- 
 where in the interior of the house. The nameless 
 traveller threw open the window, leapt out and ran 
 at the top of his speed for the thicket in which he 
 had left the four horses. He had not covered more 
 than half the distance when the sound of hoofs 
 reached his ears. Looking eastward, he saw a 
 horseman spurring forward a jaded nag, as if to 
 cut him off from his goal. He dashed on, reached 
 the thicket, unfastened all the horses and mounted 
 the gray. Slapping one of the other nags across 
 the rump, he sent it plunging into the open, where 
 it was greeted and missed by a charge from the 
 belated highwayman's pistol. Setting spur to the 
 gray, he galloped out, and struck his bewildered pur- 
 suer to the ground. Still at the charge, he bore
 
 38 Captain Love 
 
 down upon that iniquitous tavern. A window flew 
 open; but instead of the hag, he saw the pale, hor- 
 ror-stricken face of a girl. As he galloped past he 
 kept his eyes upon her, wide with astonishment and 
 admiration. In a moment the clay of the by-road 
 was under his horse's feet, and he was speeding 
 toward safety, and daylight, and the king's high- 
 way. 
 
 The nameless gentleman was weary, hungry and 
 sleepy, but for all his physical discomfort he could 
 not keep his mind from dwelling upon the pale, 
 terror-stricken face at the tavern window. What 
 was a young and beautiful woman doing in that 
 den of thieves? 
 
 " Damn it, I'll find out," said he. " When I get 
 more firmly established in the world," he added, 
 remembering what an unpleasant night he had just 
 passed through, and that, for all he knew, he had 
 not a friend in the land. 
 
 " But here is a little friendship," he said, rapping 
 the leathern bag of gold with his knuckles ; and he 
 fell to pondering on the value of money, and trying 
 to remember something of his past experiences with 
 it. 
 
 " My friend of Nullwood Lower Farm worked 
 hard for a very little of it," he reflected. " I and
 
 A Face and a Dream 39 
 
 my lost friend were knocked on the head and 
 that was for our money and our rings, I'll swear. 
 I overcame a robber, took his bag of gold, and ex- 
 perienced a very comfortable sensation at the touch 
 of it. I bought wine from that devilish old hag 
 with a piece of metal; and, for the lust of more 
 of that metal, she sought to drop me into a tank 
 of water beneath her accursed house. Gad, but 
 this money is a strange thing, and a man seems to 
 be in as great danger from having it as from lack- 
 ing it." 
 
 These philosophical reflections, however, failed 
 to keep his mind, for more than a few minutes, 
 from the face he had espied at the window. 
 Though it had gleamed upon his view for so brief 
 a time for five seconds perhaps, as his gray 
 charged past it remained bright and clear-cut 
 to his inner vision. The expression of terror 
 had deprived the pale features of nothing of their 
 beauty. 
 
 " I wonder," he murmured, and then swore vio- 
 lently. " Such a thing could never be," he added, 
 and drove the suspicion from him with another 
 oath. 
 
 The sun was clear of the horizon when he entered 
 a village on the outskirts of the great town. Here,
 
 40 Captain Love 
 
 at a neat inn set beneath the shade of elms, he 
 breakfasted at his ease and then retired to an honest 
 bed in a bright, cool room above the fragrance and 
 soft noises of a little garden. For a long time he 
 lay in a half -doze, deliciously comfortable, his 
 limbs extended at their full length and every tired 
 muscle relaxed. The stirring of a little wind at the 
 lattice, the droning of bees and the light move- 
 ments of birds in the garden foliage and from 
 somewhere in the village street the voices of old 
 men, softened by distance, soothed his half-heedless 
 ears. The sheets of the bed felt cool and smooth 
 to his body, the very skin of which was tired. The 
 adventures and terrors of the past night slipped 
 from his brain, leaving it at peace. 
 
 In a sweet half -consciousness, he felt himself 
 sinking into slumber as into a magic sea, from one 
 bright depth to another. And, at last, it was as if 
 fathoms of sleep, clear and alive like the waters of 
 a tropic sea, were over him. Faces, at once strange 
 and half- familiar, crowded about him. Presently 
 he walked alone in a rose-garden, at about the time 
 of the falling of dusk, and his heart was eager and 
 glad. The path turned among the roses and clipped 
 shrubberies and, following it, he came to a bench 
 under an arbour of honeysuckles. And there, with
 
 A Face and a Dream 41 
 
 averted face, sat the object of his eager search. He 
 knew that she was waiting for him; and so mad 
 was his joy at finding her that the dusky garden 
 seemed to waver, like a tide, in his vision. He 
 paused for a moment, to steady himself, and the 
 scent of the roses was sweet on the still air. He 
 stooped and plucked one of the blooms; and then 
 it came to him that the roses had been only in bud 
 when he was last in the garden. As he stood, with 
 the flower in his hand, the girl in the arbour turned 
 her familiar, incomparable face to him. 
 
 " Is it you ? " she asked, scarce above a whis- 
 per. 
 
 For answer, he ran forward and knelt close to 
 her, snatching one of her hands to his lips. 
 
 " I have waited here, night after night, and 
 prayed that you would forgive me and come 
 back," she said. 
 
 He raised his head at that, and gazed at her face. 
 " I could not stay away any longer," he said. " My 
 heart brought me home to you." 
 
 " It is like a dream," she whispered. And then 
 " Perhaps it is a dream." 
 
 The woman, the arbour and the garden whirled 
 away in blackness. He felt an ungentle hand on 
 his shoulder and a voice bawling in his ear. He
 
 42 Captain Love 
 
 flung out his arm, uttered a low cry, and opened 
 his eyes upon the bright little room above the inn- 
 garden. The landlord was stooping over him, 
 shouting that 'twas past noon, and dinner spoiling. 
 The nameless gentleman lay quiet for a second or 
 two, staring wide-eyed at his bulky host, his soul 
 longing back to the dusky garden of roses and his 
 heart and mind still enthralled by the dream. Or 
 was this the dream ? this and the adventurous 
 night, the events of which came painfully back to 
 his memory? He felt the linen sheets, between his 
 fingers, and looked at the flood of noon sunshine 
 on the floor. He sat up and poked at the landlord's 
 vast waistcoat with an inquiring forefinger. No, 
 these things were real. 
 
 " To the devil with you and your dinner," he 
 cried, in sudden passion. " Out of here, you rogue, 
 or I'll lay a whip on you for disturbing my sleep." 
 
 The big innkeeper drew back from the bed in 
 injured amazement. 
 
 " What ails you? " he asked. " You told me to 
 wake you at noon, an' have your nag ready, an' 
 dinner on the table. I've done your bidding. I'm 
 a man of substance, I am, an' 'ill not be cursed by 
 every whipper-snapper who spends a shillin' at my 
 house."
 
 A Face and a Dream 43 
 
 But the nameless gentleman heard not a word of 
 that indignant and independent reply. His spirit 
 was harking back his mind was searching for 
 some fragment of the lost dream, only the divine 
 fragrance of which remained to him. 
 
 " By God, I have forgotten her face already," 
 he exclaimed, in a shaking voice.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE NAMELESS GENTLEMAN FINDS A NAME 
 
 FOR a week the nameless gentleman lived very 
 quietly in London. On the eighth day, and about 
 three hours past noon, he left the quiet house in 
 which he lodged and took his way to the Strand. 
 Would the lass of Nullwood Lower Farm have 
 known this dandy for her unfortunate charge, I 
 wonder ? What miracles the tailors and barber had 
 accomplished. He wore a light sword and carried 
 a cane of the latest mode. From his three-cornered 
 hat to his buckled shoes he was garbed in the rich- 
 est materials and the nicest taste. The fine lace at 
 his wrists almost hid his slender hands. On one 
 finger he wore a signet ring which he had found 
 among the coins in the highwayman's pocket. The 
 design on the stone was a charger trippant. The 
 motto read, " Expectans equito." 
 
 " Who can say that it is not my own ring and 
 my own crest," he had said, when first considering 
 it. " And the motto, ' Waiting, I ride/ surely suits 
 
 44
 
 Finds a Name 45 
 
 my uncommon case. It comes back to me. It is 
 familiar." 
 
 He strolled along like one in a glorious dream. 
 He met the eyes of other gentlemen attired as mag- 
 nificently as himself. Ladies went by in their 
 chairs; and he caught glimpses of a bewildering 
 variety of faces. The noise and the colour rang 
 around him like the music of a song ; and, smiling 
 a little, he murmured : 
 
 " Sweet, your name I do not know 
 Queen of London village." 
 
 Presently, on the heels of three other exquisites, 
 he entered what he correctly surmised to be a place 
 of public entertainment. It proved to be a no less 
 fashionable resort than " Babcock's." With a fine 
 assurance, he walked the length of the room and 
 sat down at a table already occupied by a short, 
 rotund gentleman in a lilac waistcoat. A servant 
 approached and stood deferentially at attention. 
 
 " Cocoa," said the short gentleman. 
 
 " Cocoa," said the nameless gentleman. 
 
 The other eyed him with a near-sighted squint. 
 
 " There you are wise, sir," said he. " No one 
 else in town serves that good beverage so desirably 
 as does our excellent friend Babcock. But my own 
 fellow has a fair hand at it."
 
 46 Captain Love 
 
 Just then a third gallant seated himself at the 
 table. His air suggested a curious blending of 
 pride, affability and sadness. " How goes the 
 great work, Percy?" he inquired. 
 
 "As fast as I can lay pen to paper," replied he 
 of the lilac waistcoat. 
 
 " What ? With no time given to research ? " 
 
 " The whole matter is in my head, Sir John." 
 
 The gentleman who had put the questions in- 
 dulged in a pinch of snuff and a smile of skepticism. 
 
 " My dear Percy," said he, " though your head 
 is large, I doubt if it can hold the armorial bear- 
 ings of all the gentlemen in England." 
 
 The conceited scribe tapped his forehead. 
 
 " I assure you they are all here," he said. 
 
 At this our nameless gentleman, in a very reck- 
 less spirit, extended the hand upon which he wore 
 the signet. 
 
 " Five pounds, sir, that you fail to tell me my 
 name," he said. 
 
 " Ha, my dear Percy ! " exclaimed Sir John. 
 
 Percy examined the ring. 
 
 "This is yours?" he queried. 
 
 Our hero nodded assent. 
 
 " Then your name is Love," said the other.
 
 Finds a Name 47 
 
 The gentleman from Nullwood Lower Farm 
 arose and bowed. 
 
 " Captain Love, at your service," said he, with- 
 out a tremor in his voice; and he laid five gold 
 coins on the table. 
 
 The others got to their feet and bowed in turn. 
 
 " Sir John Petre," said the compiler, indicating 
 his companion with a wave of a fat hand. 
 
 " Mr. Percy Hyde," said Sir John. 
 
 The three resumed their seats and drew their 
 chairs closer together. " A son of Sir William 
 Love?" queried Hyde. 
 
 The alleged captain's wits bestirred themselves. 
 
 " No, I am of a younger branch," he replied. 
 " My father is a country parson. I am but lately 
 returned from the East. My name is Richard." 
 
 He was inwardly amazed at his own power of 
 invention; but nothing of the amazement showed 
 in his face. 
 
 " Of what regiment, Captain ? " inquired Sir 
 John Petre. 
 
 " Of the Sultan of Turkey's Household Guards," 
 replied Captain Love, with a rare smile. 
 
 " Lord, a Turk ! " exclaimed Mr. Hyde, and 
 swallowed his cocoa.
 
 48 Captain Love 
 
 " You do not look like a Turk," he added. 
 
 " You've not seen me in my turban and and 
 slippers," said the captain. 
 
 " In that costume with, I presume, a few ad- 
 ditional garments in between " said the baronet, 
 " you would take the town by storm." 
 
 " By Heaven," cried the captain, with a fine 
 show of heat, " no man alive shall ever again see 
 me dressed like a Turk my exile is at an end." 
 
 " And how long do you intend to remain in 
 town? " asked Mr. Hyde. 
 
 " Until I tire of it," replied the other, good 
 naturedly; but with a quick lifting of the brows 
 that did not escape the observant eyes of Sir John. 
 
 " Then we'll see that you do not tire of it within 
 a year," said Sir John Petre, kindly. 
 
 His liking for this son of a parson this ad- 
 venturer out of the Orient was as strong as it 
 was sudden. 
 
 Mr. Hyde nodded. 
 
 " If Sir John says you'll not tire of it, then spit 
 my vitals if you do," said he, " for there's not a 
 beauty nor a wit in the town to whom he cannot 
 open you the door." 
 
 " And Percy will give you their pedigrees," said 
 Sir John.
 
 Finds a Name 49 
 
 " I cannot promise you that," retorted Mr. Hyde, 
 with a shrewd wink. 
 
 " Tut, tut," exclaimed the baronet, with a shade 
 of displeasure in his fine face. 
 
 Hyde turned to their new acquaintance. 
 
 " We have done our duty by this excellent but 
 uninspiring drink," said he, " and now I suggest 
 that we step up-stairs." 
 
 " Very good," said the captain, without the least 
 idea of what stepping up-stairs might lead to. 
 
 On the second floor of " Babcock's " were eight 
 rooms. These were devoted to playing-cards and 
 dice, the weapons of that ancient goddess, Chance. 
 
 " Here is the devil's own den," said Sir John, in 
 the captain's ear. 
 
 " Shall we play or look on ? " asked Mr. Hyde. 
 
 " Why," said Captain Love, " I have nothing 
 against the dice." 
 
 Sir John Petre smiled pensively. 
 
 " You are young, my friend, and fresh from 
 Turkey," he said. " But let us first see how Buck- 
 ley is faring to-day." 
 
 They followed him over to a table at which two 
 men were seated. Lord Buckley was a large man 
 with an imposing presence and a bloated face. His 
 companion was younger, smaller, and pale as death.
 
 50 Captain Love 
 
 He got up from his chair on the approach of the 
 three. 
 
 " Finished, by God," he muttered, and left the 
 room without a word of farewell to the earl. 
 
 Six hours later, Sir John Petre and Captain Love 
 stepped out of " Babcock's." A fog had come in 
 with the night and the street was like a pit. 
 
 " I believe we have Buckley's winnings for a 
 week in our pockets," said Sir John. " So we'll 
 let my two fellows here walk behind us, and this 
 lad with the link lead the way." 
 
 " The earl did not lose like a gentleman," said 
 Love. 
 
 " Gentleman ! " cried Petre. " My friend, he has 
 never done anything like a gentleman in all his ugly 
 life." 
 
 They walked for a few minutes in silence. The 
 captain leaned to his companion. 
 
 " You are wonderfully good to take me home to 
 supper and only on Mr. Hyde's word as to my 
 respectability." 
 
 " And your word, Dick, which is more to me 
 than Mr. Hyde's," replied the baronet. 
 
 The captain felt a twinge, and his heart prompted 
 him to make a true statement of his position to his 
 new friend. But his brain argued that he was
 
 Finds a Name 51 
 
 honest in naming himself a gentleman, and that he 
 who plays a game with Fate must let no advantage 
 slip. As to " Love " why, a man must have a 
 name; and if this were not the true name, ten to 
 one his was a greater. But the fiction of the Sul- 
 tan's body-guard stuck in his crop. It was an in- 
 artistic lie, at best, and he blushed to think of hav- 
 ing befooled Sir John with so silly a tale.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 SIR JOHN'S TOWN ESTABLISHMENT 
 
 SIR JOHN PETRE lived in a rented house in a 
 street off the Strand ; but his home was in Dorset. 
 His widowed sister, a Mrs. Paddington, of Somer- 
 set, and a younger sister, Miss Dorothy, managed 
 his town establishment for him. They had but lately 
 come to London; and had left Lady Petre, the 
 widow of the late baronet, and her younger son, at 
 home in Dorset. Sir John was a man of good 
 estate, scholarly habits and distinguished appear- 
 ance. But he had not attained the age of thirty- 
 four with an unscarred heart. Seven years previ- 
 ous to his meeting with Captain Love, he had 
 wooed and won a lady of his county and had lost 
 her, in a fatality of the hunting-field, just a fort- 
 night before the date set for their wedding. This 
 tragedy had wrought many changes in the young 
 baronet's mind and life. From a somewhat boister- 
 ous blade he was become a quiet and reserved 
 scholar. It had turned him from his own affairs 
 
 62
 
 Sir John's Town Establishment 53 
 
 to the consideration of matters concerning his 
 mother and sisters. The shock received by his own 
 heart had inclined it to the sorrow of other hearts ; 
 and charity toward all men had taken the place of 
 the former spirit of jovial good-fellowship. Some- 
 thing of the tenderness that he had lavished upon 
 the poor lady of his choice he now bestowed upon 
 his younger sister, Dorothy. It pleased him to 
 fancy a resemblance between the living girl and the 
 dead beauty ; and one morning, years after his loss, 
 on meeting his sister in the great hall at Willing- 
 ton, slender and bright and eager for the saddle, he 
 had turned away in an agony of tears. 
 
 This was the man to whose heart and board Cap- 
 tain Love had won so swift a passage. 
 
 Supper was served in a small room off the dining- 
 hall. The table was oval, and of ruddy mahogany. 
 The lights of the shaded candles threw pools of 
 liquid fire deep into the polished surface. The rare 
 china and chaste silver were lit to star-shine at a 
 dozen curves and angles. A fire burned on the 
 bright hearth, against the chill of the fog. One 
 noiseless servitor was in attendance. 
 
 Sir John sat at one end of the oval table and Mrs. 
 Paddington at the other; and opposite Captain 
 Love, with her dainty shoulders against the light,
 
 54 Captain Love 
 
 sat Mistress Dorothy. To the eyes of the young 
 gentleman who had so lately been nameless and 
 friendless, she was a very miracle of loveliness. To 
 describe her as she appeared to him a poet 
 flushed with new adventures is beyond my art. 
 
 The conversation was light and cheery, and Cap- 
 tain Love maintained his share of it with wit and 
 grace. But when Sir John put him a question con- 
 cerning Turkey, he flushed guiltily. 
 
 " Let me forget it," he said, recovering himself. 
 He fancied that a smiling glance passed between 
 Mrs. Paddington and her brother. In certain 
 things the reputation of that country was then even 
 worse than it is to-day. The bare thought of it, 
 to the young gentleman, under the existing circum- 
 stances, was as if he had played at dice on the altar 
 of a cathedral. He inwardly lamented the indis- 
 cretion of his story. What evil genius had set 
 his tongue to that accursed country, when all the 
 kingdoms and empires of the earth had been as 
 equally at his service. He raised his eyes and 
 between the branched candlesticks encountered the 
 grave and curious regard of the young girl. For a 
 moment their glances held, then wavered shyly; 
 and the young gentleman of the world was the first 
 to bow his head. His diffidence must have been due
 
 Sir John's Town Establishment 55 
 
 to instinct rather than shame ; for surely, with only 
 a few weeks of life to look back upon, he could 
 afford to carry himself with better assurance, even 
 under the eyes of so young and fair a woman as 
 Dorothy Petre. 
 
 The evening passed all too swiftly for Captain 
 Love. He sat in a glow, like one who finds the 
 hearth of home at the end of a winter's journey 
 like one pinched with hunger who is of a sudden 
 ushered in to a banquet. But they were the hands 
 of the spirit that warmed themselves at the glow, 
 and the cravings of the spirit that were satisfied 
 at the banquet. For an hour he sat in a shadowy 
 corner and listened to Dorothy's singing and Mrs. 
 Paddington's playing on the spinet. 
 
 After the music, a card-table was drawn forth 
 and the little company sat down to a game of whist. 
 Fate, in the cutting of the pack, made partners of 
 Dorothy and the captain. " Penny points," said 
 Mrs. Paddington, as she dealt the cards. 
 
 Captain Love, with no recollection of ever hav- 
 ing seen the game before, found himself speedily 
 acquainted with the rules. He played his cards 
 with less coolness than he had displayed earlier in 
 the day when fortunes were at stake. Silence 
 seemed to be the presiding genius of whist, and
 
 56 Captain Love 
 
 when tongues are quiet eyes must serve as means 
 of communication. So it happened that the girl 
 often raised her eyes to her partner's, now in de- 
 fence of some doubtfully advantageous play, again 
 in question. He, poor fellow, soon found himself 
 anticipating these glances rather than the turning 
 of the tricks. 
 
 It was late when Captain Love pulled the bell 
 beside the door of that narrow and empty house, 
 the second floor of which he had occupied for the 
 past eight days. Old Tom, whom he had engaged 
 with the apartments, and who served indifferently 
 as both valet and groom, drew the bolts and ad- 
 mitted him. In his left hand the old fellow held a 
 candle at so eccentric an angle that the flame leaped 
 and sputtered against the rim of tallow. His 
 woollen nightcap was all awry on his gray head. 
 He groaned and grumbled as he closed the door 
 and shot the bolts. The captain paused at the foot 
 of the stairs. 
 
 " What ails you, Tom," he inquired, with a foot 
 on the lower step and a hand on the banister. 
 
 " Ay, ye may ax," mumbled Tom, " ye who lays 
 abed 'til noon on the finest feathers, an' warms yer 
 young blood with good wine. But if ye was a poor
 
 Sir John's Town Establishment 57 
 
 old serving-man, sir, with the chill in yer bones an' 
 yer master a-ringin' of ye up past midnight an' 
 you not even knowin' his name then ye'd know 
 what ailed ye, I'm thinkin'." 
 
 " My poor fellow," said the gentleman, " your 
 complaint has a core of reason to it. That nothing 
 is so painful to the small of intellect as unsatisfied 
 curiosity, I have heard or read somewhere or other. 
 I am sorry that you and your good dame have had 
 to suffer so for the past week, and now I hasten 
 to relieve you. My name is Love Captain Rich- 
 ard Love. My father is a country parson in the 
 North. Here is something for you, my good Tom 
 and now run away and tell your wife." 
 
 The servant held the gold coin close to the candle. 
 
 " Thank'ee, Cap'n. Mighty civil of your Hon- 
 our, I'm sure." 
 
 He looked his master up and down. 
 
 " Lord, but I'd take 'e for the son of a dook, sir. 
 Kate, she said that, when first she set eyes on ye; 
 but I was thinkin' maybe your Honour was a high- 
 wayman." 
 
 The captain frowned. 
 
 " My man," he said, coldly, " surely you do not 
 expect me to explain to you the reason for my
 
 58 Captain Love 
 
 week of namelessness. There are difficulties and 
 pits to be avoided even in the paths of gentlefolk. 
 Let that suffice you." 
 
 Thereupon he took the candle from Tom's hand 
 and ascended the stairs to his own rooms, leaving 
 the impudent old servant to knock his shins in the 
 dark. Safe in his own sitting-room, which was of 
 fine proportions but scanty furnishings, he emptied 
 his pocket of the money he had won at Babcock's, 
 and mended the fire on the hearth. Then he laid 
 aside coat and sword, lit three candles on the table, 
 and sat down. The incidents of the day passed be- 
 fore him, clear-cut pictures astir with the spirit of 
 romance. 
 
 A fever was upon him a fine, reckless, singing 
 fever of the heart and brain. He took up a quill 
 and dipped it in the ink. 
 
 It has been truly said that inspiration is largely 
 a matter of application that the Muse is a lady 
 who must be ridden down and captured by force 
 of art. But sometimes, even in these sober times, 
 she comes to a man's door of her own accord, and 
 he has but to open and lead her in to the fire. Un- 
 expected, even unsolicited, had she come to Captain 
 Love. Perhaps she had been beside him all day, 
 holding his vision clear and setting all things to
 
 Sir John's Town Establishment 59 
 
 music. Now she leaned over his shoulder, a 
 gracious shade, and the inevitable word was ever 
 ready on the point of his pen and the pictures stood 
 bright and true before him. He drew them in 
 rhymes for that seemed the easiest way. He re- 
 called and caught the spirit of gray streets crowded 
 with horses and sedan-chairs, and foot-passengers 
 of various degrees. The whole cheery scene was 
 set down to the most delightful rhythm ; the beau- 
 ties in the passing windows, like portraits in their 
 frames; the dandies with sword and cane; the 
 statesman in his periwig, and the hurrying appren- 
 tice. He showed the elegants crowding together in 
 the coffee-house; the players up-stairs, seated at 
 the little tables; the rattle of ivory and gold; the 
 set, red faces and the white ; the falling homesteads 
 and the full purses. And last, in flowing cadences, 
 he wrote of that which gives a zest to all the vary- 
 ing phases and adventures of life for a full hour 
 he wrote of love. Then, of a sudden, a chill flooded 
 over his spirit, and the zest of rhyming went out 
 like the flame of a candle in a wind. His heart, 
 quick as thought, was turned from warmth and 
 gladness to a most bitter longing. Trembling, he 
 wondered if ghosts from his lost past were crowd- 
 ing around him.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 BLOWS AND FRIENDSHIP 
 
 CAPTAIN LOVE spent a restless and unre freshing 
 night, tossing until dawn midway between sleep 
 and waking. Hints that struggled to become mem- 
 ories vague things that whispered and fled his 
 mind's grasp haunted him through the dark 
 hours. The successes of the day were forgotten, as 
 were the face of Dorothy Petre and the rhymes he 
 had written. An awful sense of unreality daunted 
 his spirit; and frequently, from half-slumber he 
 would bestir himself, leave the bed and gaze into 
 the night from the open window. He even lit a 
 candle, and set himself to reading aloud from a 
 book of plays; but immediately a heaviness of the 
 brain and eyelids drove him back to bed, only to 
 leave him, next instant, wide-eyed and aching with 
 unrest. He longed for dawn, and the wakening of 
 the town. He tried all the old, time-honoured 
 methods of tricking his mind to inaction; but the 
 weight of nameless apprehension would not lift and 
 
 60
 
 Blows and Friendship 61 
 
 sleep refused to come. He recalled every incident 
 of the brief portion of his life of which he had any 
 knowledge, and in none of them did he find any 
 comfort. He had accepted the hospitality of a 
 yeoman, and had given nothing in return. He had 
 cracked the heads of a couple of highwaymen and 
 appropriated their ill-gotten gold to his own false 
 existence. He had played the man of fashion very 
 prettily, and won a considerable sum of money and 
 an honest man's regard ay, and he had found 
 himself a decent name wherewith to cloak his 
 nakedness and yet the thought was sour in his 
 mouth. On what dark sea was he adrift, with no 
 memories to guide him, and a longing in his heart 
 such as exiles must suffer? An exile! Yes, for 
 was he not torn from twenty good years of life, 
 from twenty years of love and friendships, of ac- 
 complishments and innocent pleasures. With the 
 loss of memory might it not be that some things of 
 priceless value were gone for ever? 
 
 " Why must I suffer? " he cried, rolling his head 
 on the pillow. " What have I done that Fate 
 should bludgeon me thus ? God, it were better that 
 I had died, along with my brave and unremembered 
 friend." 
 
 For a little while his heart was black with re-
 
 62 Captain Love 
 
 bellion; but soon repentance came, and he mur- 
 mured that he was a wicked and ungenerous fool 
 that he had done nothing, since his awakening from 
 the mists, that any fool could not have accomplished 
 that he was as useless to the world as he was 
 alone in it. 
 
 Of a sudden the pale, frightened face which he 
 had seen in the window of the tavern flashed clear 
 to his inner vision. It struck him like a blow. 
 
 " There was work ready to my hand," he cried, 
 sitting straight up between the tumbled sheets. 
 " There was a soul to help, if ever the world held 
 such, and the way pointed fair to an honourable 
 and humane deed." 
 
 At that moment he saw the first lights of dawn 
 gleaming pale across the windows, signalling him 
 to hope and lifting the shadows. He lay very 
 quiet, turned to the windows, and watched the light 
 spread and brighten, through the great room. It 
 washed away his vague but terrible apprehension 
 and, presently, sleep descended upon him, dream- 
 less and deep. 
 
 The morning was well advanced when the cap- 
 tain at last awoke. The room was flooded with 
 sunshine, and the candle which he had lit to dispel 
 the ghosts of the night burned with a colourless
 
 Blows and Friendship 63 
 
 flame close to the socket of the stick. He sprang 
 from the bed and nipped and strangled the poor 
 flame between thumb and finger. The great town, 
 the sunshine and the zest of life called to him. 
 With a smile, he recalled his weakness of the dark 
 hours, and wondered why his spirit had been so 
 disturbed. Why had he trembled, he asked himself. 
 Youth was his; gold was on the table; and a 
 world full of adventures lay outside his door. 
 
 The captain dressed, with care, in a dark riding- 
 suit, and breakfasted heartily. Then he ordered 
 the gray to be saddled, drew on his boots of Spanish 
 leather on the heels of which rang silver spurs, and 
 selected a long and serviceable blade from the col- 
 lection beside his bed. With his own hands he 
 loaded his pistols a brace of fine weapons for 
 which he had paid heavily. In spite of the return 
 of his self-assurance and high spirits, he could not 
 forget the promise he had made his conscience to 
 probe the mystery of that beautiful face at the win- 
 dow of the inn on the heath. 
 
 " That will keep me very pleasantly employed for 
 the day," he reflected. 
 
 The gray, which he had named Victor, was fairly 
 skipping with ambition and good living. As the 
 two went down the narrow streets, so gallant and
 
 64 Captain Love 
 
 young, great folk and small folk looked after them 
 with brightening eyes. In the village through 
 which he had passed on his entrance to London, 
 cottagers stared and children waved their caps, and 
 old men, humped on shaded benches, felt a vague 
 stirring in their dull dreams. One had been ser- 
 geant in a troop of horse, years and years ago, and 
 once for one glorious hour (the captain and lieu- 
 tenants being dead) he had rallied the fragments 
 of the command and led them back to the fray. He 
 had ridden a gray horse. He had looked almost 
 as fine as that young gentleman. So, in remem- 
 brance of that gallant hour, he put down his beer 
 mug and knuckled his forehead to the captain. 
 And the captain turned to him, smiled and waved 
 a gloved hand, leaving the old soldier in a fine glow 
 and the belief that he was still a person of con- 
 sequence. 
 
 At the door of the tavern in which he had slept 
 from early morning until past noon after his night 
 of adventure, and where the sweet dream had found 
 him, he drew rein and called for a stirrup-cup. The 
 bulky landlord himself appeared in answer to the 
 summons. 
 
 " I have the wines of Spain and France, white 
 and red," he gabbled. " Likewise Canary and
 
 Blows and Friendship 65 
 
 Sherry wines, brandy and claret. Our home-brew 
 is the best in these parts, and drunk largely by the 
 quality. You can't name a Christian drink, sir, 
 that don't lay in my cellar not even red rum, 
 from the Carib Islands, nor the juniper liquor that 
 the Dutchmen get fat on." He paused, breathless, 
 and looked fairly at the youth on the big gray. 
 " Stap me," said he, " if it ain't the little highway- 
 man." 
 
 The smile faded from the captain's face. 
 
 " What d'ye mean b-by that ? " he asked, almost 
 stammering in the effort to control his voice. At 
 the same time, he leaned forward in the saddle 
 and fixed his bright, dark eyes on the inn-keeper's 
 face. 
 
 " I might have knowed it from the first," replied 
 the fellow, " when you rode up so early in the 
 mornin' on that there gray, an' with the bag o' gold 
 on your saddle. Honest men sleep by night an* 
 ride by day an', if they be wise, they leave the 
 bulk of their coin at home. Then you jumped as 
 if you thought the hangmen had you, when I woke 
 you sudden." He gazed reflectively at the horse. 
 " I've heard queer tales about that horse, in the 
 last few months. Many's the solid squire a-cursin' 
 them four legs o' his."
 
 66 Captain Love 
 
 " I am Captain Richard Love," said the other, 
 quietly. 
 
 " Oh, ay," said the landlord. " You'd be a cap- 
 tain, for sure. One of your kidney he was 
 strung up last February called himself a colonel." 
 
 The gray, at a hint from his master's knee, 
 stepped closer to the innkeeper. 
 
 " You are a liar," said the captain, in a voice 
 sweet as honey. " You are a filthy, overfed, scan- 
 dalous swine. You have no sense of decency or 
 honesty. If my groom were with me I should tell 
 him to whip you." 
 
 The big innkeeper gaped with amazement; then 
 his ruddy visage turned, in hue, from salmon to 
 purple. His hands clinched and his dull eyes flashed. 
 
 "What's that?" he cried. 
 
 " Fellow," replied Love, " if it were not for the 
 tenderness of my heart, I would ride you down 
 where you stand or knock in your thick head with 
 a pistol butt. It is what you deserve, you rascal. 
 But I pity you. You were born a fool, no doubt, 
 and have never learned manners. If you were a 
 gentleman yea, even a poor excuse for a gentle- 
 man I'd meet you with swords, and let a deal of 
 bad blood out of your great carcass. As it is, I 
 will descend to your own level and give you a sound
 
 Blows and Friendship 67 
 
 drubbing with my fists. I'll teach you to mistake 
 gentlemen of the first quality for highwaymen." 
 
 " D'ye mean you'll get down on your two feet 
 an' let me have a whack at you ? " asked the rustic, 
 his amazement renewed and his rage somewhat 
 abated. 
 
 " That is what I mean," replied the captain, 
 easily. "You are larger than I am; but I have 
 a feeling that I know something of the art of this 
 clodhopper method of fighting that may surprise 
 you. But, first, bring me a pint of your best claret, 
 for my mouth is dry with talking." 
 
 " Nay, nay," said the other, shrewdly. " Ye'd 
 set spurs to your nag, an' gallop away, the minute 
 I turned my back. Nay, nay, my fine cock. I'll 
 just keep my eye on you till I get my hands on 
 you." 
 
 " I am feeling quite kindly toward you, now," 
 said the captain, " so please do not make me angry 
 again. It may be worse for you if you do. If I 
 entertained any desire to ride away, I'd do it as 
 easily with your face toward me as your great slab 
 of a back. But you can have your own way and 
 I'll have my drink, too; so call a servant and give 
 him my order." 
 
 The claret was brought in a pint mug; and as
 
 68 Captain Love 
 
 the captain raised it, he said, " You should take a 
 quart of it, my man, to fill up your veins for I'll 
 tap 'em, by way of your nose." 
 
 The innkeeper tried to smile, but the coolness 
 with which the gentleman made the extravagant 
 assertion daunted him not a little. Was he in a 
 fair way to catch a Tartar? he wondered. He 
 watched the strange young man drain the mug of 
 claret, and felt both uneasiness and curiosity. 
 
 " If ye're not a highwayman," he said, presently, 
 " then what are you doin' a-ridin' 'round on a high- 
 wayman's horse? " 
 
 " You are full of questions," replied the captain, 
 pleasantly, as he returned the mug, and tossed a 
 piece of silver to the man who had brought the 
 wine. " But you'll not be feeling so interested in 
 my affairs when I ami done with you," he added, 
 without heat. 
 
 He walked the gray around to the stable-yard, 
 dismounted, took off his sword, coat and hat, and 
 turned up the sleeves of his linen shirt. He felt 
 no fear, though the fellow he was about to engage 
 with must have weighed fully four stone more than 
 he. An inner consciousness that he had learned 
 many tricks of using his fists, both in attack and
 
 Blows and Friendship 69 
 
 defence, gave him a fine sense of security. A dozen 
 blows and parries, learned he knew not where, were 
 clear in his mind. He would avoid the other's rush 
 by stepping aside, and plant a light jolt on the bull 
 neck, below the ear. He would take a swinging 
 blow on his left forearm and, at the same time, ad- 
 minister a smart prod in the rustic's eye. Gad, he'd 
 done it before, as sure as the sun was shining! He 
 felt no more doubt of the outcome of the affair 
 than if the engagement were with swords or pistols. 
 
 " Come on," he said, with a pleasant smile. 
 " The sooner we begin, the sooner you'll be com- 
 fortably in bed." 
 
 The innkeeper rushed at him, with his ham-like 
 fists a-whirling. The captain side-stepped, and 
 smote him in the neck; but one of the flinty 
 knuckles cut his cheek and quite spoiled his mood 
 of pleasantry. On the other's stumbling return he 
 met him briskly, dodged, avoided a frantic swing, 
 and then set to work like a smith at his anvil. In 
 a minute, mine host lay prone and bleeding in the 
 muck-heap. 
 
 " Wash him off, and carry him to bed," the cap- 
 tain commanded of the men and boys who had hur- 
 ried to the yard to see the fight. They obeyed
 
 70 Captain Love 
 
 promptly ; and the victorious gentleman, after wip- 
 ing the blood from his cheek, hastily rearranging 
 his toilet and ordering that the gray horse be 
 stabled, followed into the house.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 CONFIDENCES 
 
 IN the excitement of the fight with the innkeeper 
 the captain's mind was turned, for awhile, from his 
 high intention of inquiring into the interior econ- 
 omy of that other house, out on the lonely heath. 
 He was so interested in life that, childlike, he was 
 diverted by every passing phase of it. Though 
 anger had pricked him to engage with the inn- 
 keeper, he had punched him without malice; and 
 now, when the need for punishing was past, he 
 helped put the fellow to bed and then bandaged his 
 brow and chin and bathed his eyes, all with the 
 most affable tenderness, the while the stable-folk 
 and the kitchen-maid (mine host was a widower) 
 looked on in admiration. 
 
 " Where is he ? " the battered one inquired, pres- 
 ently. 
 
 " Here I am/' replied the captain. " How are 
 you feeling? " 
 
 " Feelin' ? Lor', sir, I'm past feelin'," said the 
 71
 
 72 Captain Love 
 
 sufferer, through his bandages. " Sure as my 
 name's Joseph Clark, I'm bashed to a pulp. Pistol- 
 balls wouldn't hit no harder than them fists of 
 yours." 
 
 " I am sorry, Joseph ; but if I had not hit you 
 hard, you would have hit me, most undoubtedly," 
 replied the captain. 
 
 " Didn't I touch you, sir? " 
 
 " I got one scratch." 
 
 " Tom, bring up claret for the colonel. The best 
 we have, mind you." 
 
 " Captain," corrected the gentleman. 
 
 "If you ain't a colonel, then you should be," re- 
 plied Clark. 
 
 " Bring the drink, Tom, and hurry about it. 
 Then you can draw beer for everybody that saw me 
 get whipped, and drink to the 'health of the gentle- 
 man that done it. An' I want to say you hold 
 on, Tom, and listen that I was a fool for what 
 I said to the colonel, an' that I eat every last word 
 of it, an' that I got what I damn well deserved." 
 
 " That's handsome said," remarked the man 
 Tom, and hastened for the liquor, 
 
 " You have an honest and generous heart," said 
 the captain, " and the unfortunate things you said
 
 Confidences 73 
 
 to me are forgotten, as, I hope, are my hasty and 
 ill-mannered retorts." 
 
 The innkeeper chuckled painfully. 
 
 " You laid your tongue to me, an' that's a fact,'* 
 he said ; " but I hope you'll forget both ends of that 
 business, sir. When the wine comes I hear 
 Tom's step now drink hearty an' call for more. 
 An' if you don't think it will harm me, nor heat 
 my blood too much, after the brandy you've poured 
 into me, then I'll just make so bold as to take a 
 gill o' the stuff myself an' drink your Honour's 
 good health an' my wishes for your happiness." 
 
 " 'Twill do you good, my friend," answered 
 Love. " And I'm highly flattered, I'm sure, and 
 return your generous compliments with pleasure. 
 Here, let me ease your head a bit from the pillow, 
 and steady the glass. Sound wine never hurt an 
 honest man yet, my dear Joseph." 
 
 The two spent the remainder of the morning 
 (the one in bed and the other in an armchair close 
 by) in an exchange of compliments and toasts. 
 The spirit of good-fellowship danced in the air and 
 its outward and visible form gathered, in dusty 
 shapes with long necks, on the table beside the bed. 
 The landlord's oldest friend would not have known
 
 74 Captain Love 
 
 this be-bandaged, talkative and kindly fellow for 
 the same Joseph Clark. The two dined together at 
 noon ; and though the host found some difficulty in 
 negotiating mouth fuls of the size to which he was 
 accustomed, he managed a very respectable meal. 
 
 " I tell you, captain," he said, after dinner, " I 
 haven't felt so warm an' clear about the heart in 
 two years no, not for ten years, maybe. 'Twas 
 ten years ago, come Michaelmas, I lost my woman; 
 an' it was two years ago, Christmas night, my 
 daughter run away from me. She was as fine a 
 lass as any in the land, sir, an' her dear mother over 
 again for looks an' manners. By God, captain, 
 that was a hard blow to me when she run away 
 with some young buck I didn't so much as know 
 the true name nor condition of. I was a good 
 father to her; an' I defy any man to say nay to 
 that but she left me, sir, without so much as a 
 kiss, for remembrance, as if I was no more to her 
 than Tom Sprat. It was snowin' when I missed 
 her, an' close on to midnight. I rode over the coun- 
 try till dawn, an' froze a foot an' damn near killed 
 my black geldin', but didn't so much as sight her. 
 That was a stiff blow, captain! You'll know how 
 it would feel when you've a child of your own, sir. 
 Friendship, nor sport, nor liquor, haven't warmed
 
 Confidences 75 
 
 my heart since, an' I'm gettin' the name of a surly 
 fellow. But to-day my heart feels sort o' warm, 
 and free the ache, an' the liquor has a taste an' glow 
 to it, like it had of old. You must have let some 
 old, stale blood out of my head that was pressin' 
 on my mind, sir." 
 
 The captain was sympathetic, and questioned him 
 kindly about the loss of his daughter. Clark knew 
 little that he could swear to, and had neither seen 
 her nor heard from her since the night of her van- 
 ishing. All he knew, for certain, was that she had 
 gone away in a closed carriage, with a stranger who 
 had visited the inn many times before that and 
 never afterward. 
 
 " She may be dead, for what I know," said Jo- 
 seph Clark. 
 
 " Nay, doubt not but she is alive and happy," 
 replied the captain. " A lass of discretion and hon- 
 esty, you may be sure, would leave her father only 
 for a deeper love and such a lass would love 
 none but an honest man. Women are wiser than 
 men, my friend at least, so I have read, some- 
 where or other. For my own part, I do not believe 
 I know a great deal about them." He leaned his 
 elbows on his knees and his chin between his hands, 
 pondering. " What I remember about women
 
 76 Captain Love 
 
 would not amount to that," he said, after a brief 
 silence, leaning back in his chair again and snap- 
 ping his fingers. " The farmer's lass ; Dorothy 
 Petre ; the girl at the window ay, there's the full 
 story. But I'll swear that I know more than I re- 
 member. I think it must be that my heart retains 
 many things that my brain cannot recall." 
 
 " Captain, you are a wonder," remarked the inn- 
 keeper. " A man of less wit than me, a-listenin' 
 to some of your sayin's, might call you a fool not 
 out loud, mind you, but to himself. I watched you 
 close, sir, till you shut my eyes for me, and ever 
 since I've listened to you close, an' you sound to 
 me, sir, like a gentleman in two minds. You may 
 not understand just what I mean, captain, for I'm 
 damned if I do myself; but that's how you seem 
 to me. You've had a blow, maybe, of one kind or 
 another it might be in fortune or it might be in 
 heart an' when you are gossipin' o' something 
 else, an' feelin' warm with wine, all of a sudden the 
 old pain stabs you an' throws your mind on to the 
 old trouble." 
 
 " Do I act like a fool ? " asked the captain, mus- 
 ingly and with a note of bitterness in his voice. 
 " Ah, Joseph, I am more than half -convinced that, 
 in so doing, I but act the part to which Fate has
 
 Confidences 77 
 
 ordained me. Do I seem a man in two minds ? or 
 in none at all? Oh, my honest friend, you have 
 guessed shrewdly in guessing that I received a blow 
 
 that pain stabs me that my mind turns, ever 
 and anon, to the bitterness of an old trouble ! You 
 have lost whom you knew and loved a fond wife 
 
 a lovely daughter and the warmth of sunlight, 
 the glow of wine, the comfort of friendship have 
 slipped from you. I have lost years, and loves and 
 memories God, I know not what I have lost ! 
 My mind goes back to June but my heart goes 
 aching back to the days of my childhood. You 
 would say that I have lived twenty years or, per- 
 haps twenty-two ? Yes ; but I remember no farther 
 back than June. It may be that I was loved by a 
 beautiful woman; but a robber hits me over the 
 head, and the littlest memory of that affection is 
 lost to me. Had I comrades ? Now I am comrade- 
 less ! Had I fond parents ? Now I am an orphan ! 
 Had I a place that knew me, and standing therein? 
 Now I am a man without a country. And yet 
 and yet this love, these comrades, these parents, 
 may be even as they were. Death has not touched 
 them all, I think, nor change, nor any disaster. It 
 is I who have lost them, in losing myself. Do they 
 call me false, I wonder a light lover, an ungrate-
 
 78 Captain Love 
 
 ful child, a careless friend? Then God enlighten 
 them, for the thing is beyond my power." 
 
 " Drink," whispered Clark, in a voice of awe. 
 " Drink, captain. Warm your heart with the 
 liquor." 
 
 But the captain paid no heed to the invitation. 
 He had already imbibed extensively, though his 
 face remained unflushed and his hands steady. 
 Leaning forward again and staring across the bed 
 with his bright eyes, he told all that he knew of his 
 strange story. He told it slowly, in a voice often 
 broken with emotion ; and when he had finished, he 
 bowed his head in his hands. 
 
 " By God," whispered the innkeeper.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE HIGH ADVENTURE 
 
 THE captain did not leave his new friend until 
 the next morning. Even then, the innkeeper 
 begged him not to go, and, above all things, not to 
 risk his life in a second visit to the house on the 
 heath. He worked himself into a fever at the 
 idea. 
 
 " What call have you to go back to that place ? " 
 he cried. " They are devils there. The house is 
 the very porch of hell. Every murderer and robber 
 in the country knows that place, else I'm a fool. A 
 face, you say ? A woman's face at a window. Fie 
 on you, sir, for such tomfoolery. She is part of 
 that devil's trap, I'll swear. Damn me, but I never 
 heard such madness ! Surely there are faces enough 
 an' to spare lasses' faces, pretty faces without 
 a gentleman runnin' his head into that jaw of death 
 for a little amusement. The woman's a baggage, 
 sir, mark my word." 
 
 " Joseph, there is reason in your view, for you 
 79
 
 80 Captain Love 
 
 have not seen her," returned the captain. " But I 
 have seen her, man, and I swear she was suffering 
 the pangs of hell. I care nothing for her beauty, 
 mind you, but I have sworn to my own soul that 
 I will learn how she comes to abide in that house 
 of blood and devilish devices." 
 
 " I tell you, lad, she'll not thank you for your 
 trouble, unless she manages to lure you to your 
 death," said Clark, mournfully. " Heed not her 
 tears, lad. Shut your ears to her words. Do not 
 enter the house. If she wishes to leave it, she will 
 spring to you from the window." 
 
 " Don't worry, Joe," replied the captain. " I'll 
 be back before sundown, sound in body, an' easier 
 in spirit, and the danger drawn from that house of 
 blood. I'll strike the fear of death into that old 
 hag." 
 
 And so he rode away, all his courage returned 
 to him and his heart strong with the high ambition 
 of righting wrongs and overthrowing the wicked. 
 He felt actually gay, what with the freshness of the 
 morning, the glow of the new friendship and the 
 noble cause in which he was riding. He enter- 
 tained no fear of sword, or pistol, or hidden trap; 
 and the vague terrors which haunted him in the
 
 The High Adventure 81 
 
 dark hours were forgotten. He remembered the 
 pitiful, fair face at the window, and his spirit was 
 hot for the rescue. 
 
 Captain Love pressed forward at a good pace, 
 arriving at the lonely tavern while the morning was 
 still young. The group of dilapidated buildings 
 stood in a wilderness, out of sight of any cottage 
 or farmhouse, though at a distance of scarce half 
 a mile from the great highway. Thousands of 
 acres of unprofitable heath and rough pasture 
 spread to every point of the compass. For ten 
 miles or more, north and south, ran a district so 
 perilous to travellers that it was known as Ready- 
 Trigger Heath. Many a solid gentleman had is- 
 sued from the passage of it with shaken nerves 
 and a slit purse. Throats had been slit there, as 
 readily as purses (though with less profit), and 
 brains had been blown out and skulls cracked, all 
 up and down that notorious countryside. 
 
 In the fair light of day, the lonely tavern and 
 its outbuildings impressed one even more deso- 
 lately than at night. The walls were gray-black 
 with the stain of foul weather. The roof of the 
 house was of dark slates, the chimney of black 
 stone. The thatchings of the stables were black
 
 82 Captain Love 
 
 with rot and age. The yard was devoid of that 
 homely bustle of poultry which is so cheering in 
 country places. The brisk air and lively sunshine 
 spent themselves upon that dreary habitation in 
 vain, unable to lift so much as a shade of the vague 
 and haunting gloom which enveloped it. 
 
 Captain Love skirted the place riding with un- 
 wonted caution. Near the stable, in which horses 
 stamped and nosed their forage, stood a large and 
 sleepy-looking man in the orthodox smock and 
 gaiters of a farm-labourer. His head was bound 
 'round, from jaw to crown, with dirty linen. His 
 hands, though large and muscular, showed no wear 
 or disfigurement of toil, and his red-brown eyes 
 were at once bold and sly, daring and unsteady. 
 All this, the gentleman noted at a glance. 
 
 " A fine morning, my good fellow," he said, 
 drawing rein and looking swiftly about him, and 
 then back at the man's face. 
 
 " Fine enough," replied the man, with his eyes 
 fixed upon the gray. Then he knuckled his fore- 
 head, awkwardly, like one playing a part much 
 against his taste. 
 
 " Ay, sir, a rare day it is," he added " for 
 them as is able to enjoy it." He shifted his gaze
 
 The High Adventure 83 
 
 from the horse to the rider, instantly lowering it 
 again. 
 
 " What is your business ? " he asked. 
 
 " I'll tell that to your master," replied Captain 
 Love. 
 
 " I am master here," said the fellow. " Honest 
 folks has hard farin' these days, so I keeps no man. 
 The old folks live with me, an' are at the house. If 
 you would have a glass, or a snack to eat, I'll take 
 your nag." 
 
 " Very good," said the captain. He dismounted, 
 and tossing the bridle to the ostler, followed 
 through the narrow doorway of the stable. Once 
 within, he clapped a pistol to the back of the fel- 
 low's neck. " If you let so much as a whisper out 
 of you, I'll blow your head off," he said. For about 
 ten minutes he employed himself in binding the 
 man with rope and gagging him with sacking. 
 
 " I suspect you of grave crimes," he remarked. 
 " I could even make a guess as to how you came 
 by your broken head. Lie quiet, or I may put you 
 beyond the hope of bandages." 
 
 He led Victor outside again, mounted and rode 
 toward the tavern. A twist of smoke arose from 
 the chimney, but neither the windows nor doors
 
 84 Captain Love 
 
 showed any sign of life. He pressed close to the 
 front door and rapped on it with gloved knuckles. 
 He heard a movement within, the rattle of a chain 
 and rasping of bolts, and, next moment, looked into 
 the upturned face of the old hag, framed in the 
 narrow space between door and casing. Impotent 
 rage flamed in her eyes, for they gazed into the 
 muzzle of one of the captain's pistols. 
 
 " Throw open the door," said he, " or you die 
 with your sins on your soul." 
 
 She hesitated. 
 
 " You need not look for help from the fellow in 
 the stables," said Love, " for he cannot so much as 
 help himself." 
 
 With an oath, she drew the door open and 
 stepped back a few paces. The captain bent low 
 in his saddle and peered within. He saw the frag- 
 ments of a meal on the table, the old man nodding 
 by the hearth, and a man in shirt and breeches 
 snatching a blunderbuss from the wall. The old 
 woman turned, following his gaze. 
 
 " Haste," she cried. " Make haste, you fool ! 
 Spatter him out of his saddle ! " 
 
 The man swung around and raised the slow 
 weapon to his shoulder; but the captain's pistols 
 bellowed in the doorway, and man and weapon
 
 The High Adventure 85 
 
 thumped upon the floor. At that the old woman 
 fell also, rolling and screaming- hideously. 
 
 The captain reined back from the doorway, and 
 looked sharply about him, expecting some danger- 
 ous response to the hag's outcry. But neither man 
 nor beast appeared from the shelter of the out- 
 houses or the thickets on the heath. Dismounting, 
 he ran into the tavern, a pistol in his left hand, his 
 sword in the right. On the instant of his entrance 
 the old woman rose on her elbow, a clapping report 
 stunned his ears and his hat went spinning from 
 his head. He reeled against the jamb of the door, 
 for a second, somewhat shaken in nerve. The smoke 
 of the pistol hung in the still air of the room, and 
 beyond it he heard the triumphant and fiendish 
 laughter of the hag. And then, quiet as a bird, 
 something sped past him, and ran into the sunlight ; 
 and the laughter of the old hag changed to screams 
 of fury. 
 
 Captain Love ran from the house and gave chase 
 to the young woman ; and as he ran he wondered 
 if, after all, she were a willing part of this evil com- 
 pany. But, remembering the look on her face when 
 she gazed from the window on that earlier morn- 
 ing, he put the thought away from him as unjust 
 and dishonourable. She ran swiftly, in her thin
 
 86 Captain Love 
 
 gown, while he was retarded by his jack-boots and 
 great spurs and skirted riding-coat. But he came 
 up to her at the edge of the thicket in which he had 
 once hidden four horses. 
 
 " Fear nothing. I am your friend," he gasped. 
 He flung forward his left arm (his sword was in 
 his right hand), encircled her pliant waist and, halt- 
 ing suddenly, drew her back against his shoulder. 
 With her face averted, she struggled to get free, 
 twisting her slender body and striking with her 
 little hands. 
 
 " My dear young lady," he expostulated, mildly, 
 holding tight and doing his best to avoid her blows. 
 " Calm yourself, madam. I am not one of these, 
 I assure you. Easy, madam, easy, or you will do 
 yourself a hurt. I have come to save you, remem- 
 bering your face at the window. Madam, madam, 
 do not struggle so, for God's sake ! I am a gentle- 
 man, my dear young lady." 
 
 At that she ceased her battling and turned her 
 face to him a face drawn and thinned by terror, 
 eyes afire with many terrific emotions. A flash of 
 hope sprang from brow to chin, as her eyes met his, 
 and the pitiful brow and trembling lips were beau- 
 tiful.
 
 The High Adventure 87 
 
 " You are he who escaped ? " she whispered, 
 scarcely above a breath. 
 
 " And I have come back to take you from this 
 place," he answered, gently. 
 
 At that moment he felt a touch on his right 
 shoulder, and found his horse nosing him. And 
 now the woman sagged on his arm, and her face 
 was white as paper. 
 
 " Will you come? " he asked, bending close. 
 
 For a second her eyelids fluttered up; then 
 drooped again. Her head sank against his shoulder. 
 Her trembling lips breathed " Yes." 
 
 People stared to see the big gray clattering along, 
 carrying a hatless gentleman, and an inert lady in 
 a white gown. A shepherd-boy bellowed after the 
 flying spectacle, shaking his staff in impotent rage. 
 
 " One o' they young bloods up to his devilments," 
 he cried, and cursed furiously, affirming that, even 
 in God's daylight, decent people were not safe from 
 the wickedness of the gentry. 
 
 The woman lay in the bondage of the captain's 
 right arm, her head, with its wealth of bright and 
 disordered hair, at peace on his shoulder, and her 
 eyes closed as if in sleep. She breathed quietly, 
 and already it seemed that the blood was brighten-
 
 88 Captain Love 
 
 ing beneath the pallor of cheeks and brow. Her 
 lips, which were red as fire, had ceased their pitiful 
 trembling. The captain looked down at her, ever 
 and anon, with a fine lifting and quickening of the 
 heart. To bring such peace to a woman to carry 
 her thus from momentary terror was surely a 
 great thing, he reflected. God, what lips and brow 
 and chin! And what a crown of hair, hauntingly 
 fragrant ; and so lithe and soft a body at rest in his 
 embrace. For a second, a vague fear and distrust 
 assailed him, and his arm slackened ever so little. 
 At that, her lids fluttered up and her eyes gazed 
 into his with confidence and gratitude and a wistful 
 wonder. 
 
 " Lie still," he said. " Lie quiet, madam, and 
 fear nothing." 
 
 His arm tightened again, and she closed her eyes. 
 He slowed Victor to a walk, and with imperious 
 regard beat down the rude and curious glances of 
 the folk whom he passed on the road. 
 
 He bent low to her upturned face. 
 
 !t You do not question me," he whispered. " You 
 do not ask to what place I am taking you." 
 
 :< You will take me to a safe place," she said. 
 " You are brave and kind. I have been in hell,"
 
 The High Adventure 89 
 
 she added, in a voice so low that he scarce heard 
 the words. 
 
 " What is it on your breast? " he asked. " I see 
 a glint of metal." 
 
 She shifted her position a little, and drew a short 
 knife, encased in leather, from the top of her bodice. 
 
 " I have lost years and years of sleep," she said, 
 " that the hilt of it might not slip from my hand. 
 I can draw it very swiftly. I have cheated the 
 devil with that little knife." 
 
 " Madam, madam," cried the captain, softly, in a 
 voice of keenest distress. She thrust the knife into 
 one of the pistol holsters. 
 
 " You will kill him? " she asked. 
 
 " I have already killed one of your tormentors, 
 I think. I will kill them all," he replied. 
 
 " Nay, those were but his hired rascals to keep 
 guard upon me," she said. 
 
 " Name him, and I will kill him," he said. 
 
 " I do not know his name," she whispered. " He 
 is big and foul. He is a coward. I will tell you of 
 him, later. Let me forget him, now, as if he were 
 already dead." 
 
 " He is," said the gentleman, with the ring of 
 inexorable fate in his voice. " It but remains for
 
 90 Captain Love 
 
 me to see him, and watch the foul spirit leap, in 
 agony, from the foul body." 
 
 " You hate him? " she questioned. 
 
 "As if he had tortured a woman of my own 
 blood," he replied. 
 
 For some time she looked up at him, in silence, 
 with a great and beautiful wonder in her eyes. 
 
 " Let me sit up. I feel stronger, now," she said. 
 
 Without a word, he helped her change her posi- 
 tion. His left arm felt like lead. 
 
 " You have named me with with women 
 of your own blood," she whispered, her face turned 
 aside. " How do you know ? How is it that you 
 understand ? " 
 
 " Hush, madam," said the captain. 
 
 " I have read in books of old legends, of knights 
 and gentlemen such as you," she said. 
 
 " Nay, madam, I beg of you," he cried, modestly 
 confused. 
 
 '* You have risked your life for me, knowing me 
 for nothing but the inmate of that fearful house 
 not even knowing oh," she cried, " it is as if God 
 had heard my prayers and sent one of his strong, 
 bright angels to my rescue." 
 
 " My dear lady," exclaimed the captain. " An 
 angel of God! Ah, madam, it is but in your own
 
 The High Adventure 91 
 
 generous heart that I have any claims to virtue. 
 No man, having once seen the pity of your face in 
 that window, but would have returned to help you. 
 As for risk, it was nothing and no one to care. 
 I am no saint, madam." 
 
 The young woman scrutinized his face with a 
 bright and insistent regard. 
 
 " Was it altogether for my sake for the sake 
 of the nameless woman that you returned to that 
 place of peril ? " she asked. " Or was it for ven- 
 geance? " 
 
 " It was at the better prompting that I returned. 
 It was for your sake," he replied. 
 
 " For my sake? " 
 
 " For the sake of the nameless woman in dis- 
 tress." 
 
 The captain felt a fine glow in his blood and yet 
 something of uneasiness. Beyond a doubt, he was 
 deeply stirred by the pleading beauty and remark- 
 able misfortune of this young woman who sat so 
 close before him, in the hold of his arm. He knew 
 what a bright spirit had been hers, seeing the core 
 of it still unquenched. Her pliant body touched 
 him, her shoulder was against his breast, and the 
 clean fragrance of her hair was like a breath across 
 his face. The good gray trotted strongly; the
 
 92 Captain Love 
 
 roads and meadows were bright with sunshine ; the 
 magic of romance was over his heart, his adventure 
 and the whole wide world. And he was young, 
 was the captain! But he remembered Dorothy 
 Petre, and he remembered his haunting dream; so 
 he answered, in a steady voice " For the sake of 
 the nameless woman in distress." 
 
 For fully two minutes they travelled in silence, 
 and the lady's face was turned from him. 
 
 "Where are you going?" she asked, suddenly. 
 
 " I am taking you to a safe place," he replied. 
 " I know of a quiet and decent inn, not more than 
 a mile from here, where you may dwell in peace 
 until until the mending of your affairs." 
 
 " No, no," she cried, turning and clasping his 
 arm. "Not to the White Heron! Not there, I 
 beg of you! You are kind and brave. You would 
 not treat me so." 
 
 " Madam," replied the captain, " I swear I do 
 not understand you. It is a good house, is the 
 White Heron, and the landlord is a particular 
 friend of mine." 
 
 " Not there ! " repeated the lady. " Oh, that is 
 more than I could stand ! " 
 
 The captain drew rein. " Why do you object to 
 that decent inn ? " he asked.
 
 The High Adventure 93 
 
 She lifted her hands to her face. 
 
 " Nay, let it be as if I had not asked you," he 
 whispered. " I do not wish to put you to any new 
 distress, God knows."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 MORE ABOUT THE RESCUED LADY 
 
 THE gray horse Victor, still carrying his double 
 burden, was turned into a narrow road which 
 skirted the village. He did not relish the thought 
 of thus avoiding the mid-day corn at the inn ; but 
 for all that he did not sulk, being a good horse. 
 
 " Your wish, my dear lady, is my command," 
 said the captain. " God knows you have suffered 
 enough for a lifetime! I will find you a safe lodg- 
 ing in town." 
 
 " Why are you so kind to me ? " she asked. 
 " And I do not even know your name." 
 
 " My name ? " said he. " Why, madam, it is of 
 small account. I am Richard Love, a poor soldier." 
 
 " Love? " she asked. " And poor? " 
 
 Her glance, moving slowly and with something 
 of gay tenderness, flashed from his face to his fine 
 clothes. 
 
 " I take you for a duke," she added. 
 
 " Nay, I am a plain soldier," he said. 
 04
 
 More About the Rescued Lady 95 
 
 " You ride a highwayman's horse," she ventured. 
 
 " That, madam, is a story which I shall tell when 
 you have told me yours," he replied. 
 
 " As yet, you have asked me no questions," she 
 said. 
 
 " All in good time," said he. 
 
 Quick as thought, a desolate mood had overcast 
 the young man's spirit, like the shadow of clouds 
 over a bright lake. Life, the road he travelled, the 
 fields and gardens, even the woman before him and 
 the gray horse between his knees, had become more 
 unreal than dream. He could picture this and that 
 the inn and Joseph Clark, his apartments in town, 
 the coffee-house, Petre and his sisters and yet 
 with no more conviction of their reality than if 
 they were pictures which he had seen in a book. 
 He knew they were so and yet, had they slid 
 from his mind and his view, would he have felt any 
 amazement ? 
 
 " What does it matter? " he reflected. " I am the 
 plaything of Fate, as a leaf twirled before the au- 
 tumn wind. I ride as in a dream." 
 
 He withdrew the glove from his right hand. 
 
 " Expectans equito," he read, inwardly. " For 
 what do I wait ? God, on what quest do I ride ? " 
 
 The lady felt his change of mood.
 
 96 Captain Love 
 
 " You, too," she whispered. " Have you, also, 
 been hurt?" 
 
 " I am an exile," he replied. " But, madam, I 
 beg your pardon most humbly for remembering it." 
 
 " An exile," she said. " Outcast from some great 
 and lovely home ? " 
 
 " From my past, madam," said he, with unusual 
 bitterness. 
 
 " Oh, sir, forget it," she cried. " You are a man, 
 with daring and wit. With adventure, in war- 
 fare and gaming, a man may drug his memory. 
 Make a new life. Forget the past that has hurt 
 you." 
 
 " Nay, I only wish I could remember it," said he. 
 
 Now a disturbing doubt assailed the lady's newly 
 acquired peace of mind. Could it be that her knight 
 was a madman? Could it be that Life had played 
 her another cruel trick, and that this fine youth, 
 whom she had thought a champion sent by God, 
 was no more than a half-wit for the moment en- 
 acting a noble part by the chance of a whim? 
 She turned and gazed at him with wide and fright- 
 ened eyes. He met the look steadily and, reading 
 the question, smiled with pensive tenderness. 
 
 " Do not fear me, madam," he said. " Even
 
 More About the Rescued Lady 97 
 
 though I talk somewhat vaguely at times, I believe 
 myself to be perfectly sane. At least I shall act 
 with circumspection and sanity in my care of you. 
 Trust me." 
 
 " I do trust you," she said. " It was but for a 
 moment that my trust wavered." 
 
 They rode into the great town, through narrow, 
 dirty streets and the hubbub of trade. It was a 
 mean part of the city which they had entered, and 
 they were hustled by all manner of low people, 
 some with wares to sell and others with jibes to 
 offer at the expense of the captain and his charge. 
 But the captain was wise enough to pay them no 
 further attention than a few tossed coins and good- 
 natured oaths. Presently they came safely to a 
 small tavern standing midway an alley which 
 seemed a back-water thrown off the main stream 
 of tumult. The tavern-keeper himself ran to the 
 gray's head. He was a small, red complexioned 
 fellow, with quick blue eyes and a purple birth- 
 mark on his temple. 
 
 " Welcome, milord," he cried. " Sam, come see 
 to this noble charger, while I attend to his lord- 
 ship an' her ladyship. This way, your worships, 
 this way. As neat a house, this, as in the whole of
 
 98 Captain Love 
 
 London, an' fit for a king. Youth is youth, milord, 
 with high as well as low; and here's as quiet a 
 little inn as one could find." 
 
 The captain, evidently paying no attention what- 
 ever to the landlord, dismounted and helped the 
 lady to the ground. 
 
 " This place will serve us for the moment," he 
 whispered in her ear. " We must eat, and we must 
 consider our next step." 
 
 " This way, your excellencies, if you please," 
 rattled the innkeeper. " Here's a room as private 
 as any young sweethearts, high or low, could wish, 
 and a roast on the spit fit to serve in five minutes 
 ay, an' wine that your lordship's own cellars 
 couldn't equal." 
 
 Captain Love, still holding his companion's hand, 
 turned upon the little man a severe but calm regard. 
 
 " My friend," said he, " do you take me for a 
 baron, a viscount, or an earl?" 
 
 " An earl, my lord, an earl," cried the other. 
 
 " You are a man of keen discernment," said the 
 captain. " But the fact is, I shall not be an earl 
 until a certain cousin of mine is gathered to his 
 fathers. This lady is my sister. My cousin, the 
 present earl, expects to marry her next Saturday. 
 We have run away together, my sister and I, for a
 
 More About the Rescued Lady 99 
 
 reason which I shall be delighted to explain to you 
 at dinner, if you will be good enough to join us 
 at that meal. And now show the lady to your best 
 chamber and call a fellow to me whom I may send 
 on an errand." 
 
 As the landlord moved away, fairly muddled 
 with delight at the stranger's invitation to dinner, 
 with curiosity and with suspicion, Love stooped to 
 the lady's ear. 
 
 " I shall tell the fellow many strange lies. Do 
 not judge me by the game I play with him," he 
 breathed. 
 
 " I know that what you do is for the best," she 
 replied. 
 
 The landlady, who was as abundant as mine host 
 was scanty, led her to a clean and well-lit chamber, 
 decently furnished and with a few potted flowers 
 in the windows. The captain looked at Victor in 
 his stall, refreshed himself with a glass or two 
 of claret, and then sent the landlord himself (with 
 gold coins in his hands and his ears full of flattery) 
 to make certain purchases at a certain shop which 
 he had noticed, during a former walk abroad, in 
 another part of the town. His adopted and tem- 
 porary sister must be clothed in something more 
 serviceable than the travel-stained white gown in.
 
 100 Captain Love 
 
 which he had rescued her from the house on the 
 heath. Having dispatched the landlord, with a 
 fairly clear idea of the kind and quality of the gar- 
 ments desired, he called for French brandy. 
 
 " Gad," said he, " I seem to be in a fair way of 
 becoming a toper. But what would it matter? It 
 would hurt nobody but myself." 
 
 He drained his glass. 
 
 " I am a man without a past ; without a name ; 
 without a place. At a whim, I do mad things. My 
 heart is as unstaple as water, as shifty as the wind. 
 I play a game against a hidden player, with dice of 
 which I know not even the count. Perhaps, over- 
 come with liquor, Chance or Luck the gods of 
 the drunkard and the child may befriend me." 
 
 He called the drawer to him. 
 
 " You must get better liquor than this, if you ex- 
 pect me to drink," he said. 
 
 " 'Tis the best brandy wine out of France, your 
 Honour," replied the man. 
 
 " Tut, tut," cried the captain. " Take it away. 
 Do not argue with me." 
 
 Then he sat in silence, brooding over his own 
 extraordinary case, and the case of the young 
 woman up-stairs, until the landlord's return. 
 
 The landlord brought a great parcel to the cap-
 
 More About the Rescued Lady 101 
 
 tain, containing two gowns of silk one small and 
 blue, the other large and green two pairs of 
 slippers with silver buckles, a plumed hat and six 
 pairs of stockings like spider-webs for fineness. 
 Also, he placed a fair amount of change at the 
 gentleman's elbow. 
 
 " The footgear an' stockings an' hat I got where 
 your lordship sent me," he said ; " but as for gowns, 
 Pollock had nothing made up. So I went to a lady 
 I know, who is my wife's cousin an' who buys such 
 things from the maids of ladies of quality, an' here 
 is a green gown that was worn by the Countess of 
 Exe no longer ago than Sunday, an' a blue gown 
 that Mistress Dorothy Petre has danced and supped 
 in. They are new an' clean, your lordship. My 
 wife's cousin is very particular about such things. 
 She deals only with the lady's-maids of the very 
 best ladies." 
 
 " Why do the ladies sell their garments ? " asked 
 the captain. 
 
 " 'Tis the maids that sell," replied the other. 
 
 " An' a rare thing they make of it, your Worship, 
 a-robbin' their mistresses' wardrobes." 
 
 " We are all robbers, high and low," said the 
 captain. " The heir robs the dead, even as if he 
 despoiled a tomb. The footpads and mounted ras-
 
 102 Captain Love 
 
 cals work the game like beasts, in blood and lust. 
 The gentleman sits at cards and steals a farm or 
 a fine horse from his friend. The ladies rob us of 
 peace; of our hearts; of honour, like as not. 
 Death robs us of friends, and daylight robs us of 
 dreams. Soldiers rob in God's name and the 
 king's. So what matter if the maids slip a few 
 vanities from their mistresses' closets. Send the 
 gear up to my sister's chamber, with my compli- 
 ments." 
 
 Half an hour later the lady appeared, arrayed 
 in the blue gown, which was the smaller of the two 
 and had once .belonged to Dorothy Petre. Her 
 beautiful and abundant hair was freshly dressed, 
 but unpowdered ; her cheeks showed a tinge of red 
 and the low V of the bodice disclosed a neck and 
 throat of incomparable whiteness and texture. Her 
 beauty was startling and at the same time appeal- 
 ing. The captain, after bowing, gazed at her in 
 frank wonder and delight. She, in her turn, laid a 
 hand on his arm and smiled up at him. 
 
 " Thank you," she said. " I do not think there 
 is another man in the world who would have known 
 that I needed these things. And, you see, the gown 
 suits me very well, does it not ? "
 
 "LAID A HAND ON HIS ARM AND SMILED UP AT HIM."
 
 More About the Rescued Lady 103 
 
 " Well ! " cried the captain. " Madam, it sets off 
 your beauty amazingly ! " 
 
 At that moment the tavern-keeper entered. 
 
 " Dinner is served, your Worship," he said. He 
 stared at the lady. " 'Tis a poor dinner for such 
 quality," he continued, and then " If your Lord- 
 ship will excuse me, I'll not dine with you. Sarah, 
 my wife, says 'tis very good of your Lordship to 
 ask me, but she says she knows my proper place, if 
 1 don't." 
 
 When the two were seated at table, in a snug 
 dining-room on the ground floor and not far from 
 the kitchen, with the best of the inn's table-ware, 
 n apery and cooking between them, the captain felt 
 freed of his sombre mood. Here he was, the 
 accepted protector of a woman who must surely 
 be one of the beauties of the world. Dorothy 
 Petre was beautiful, ah, yes, but as silver to 
 gold in comparison to this stranger. And there 
 was a flame in her eyes, and on her lips; and the 
 shadow of fear had left her brow. 
 
 " This is very wonderful, madam," he said, lean- 
 ing forward to pour some wine in her glass. 
 
 " Yes, it is wonderful," she replied. " My poor 
 heart already feels something of its old strength
 
 104 Captain Love 
 
 and joy. Evil and terror seem but shadows now, 
 and with every moment, in the light of your 
 kindness and protection, the shadows are dwindling. 
 Oh, it is beautiful, beautiful ! " 
 
 " You are beautiful, madam," said the captain. 
 
 She hid her eyes with their lashes, disclosed them 
 full at his for a heart-beat, and hid them again, 
 with drooping lash and lowered head. 
 
 " And a man would be a fool to deny it," said 
 the captain, who had been hit fair by that marvel- 
 lous glance. 
 
 The landlady removed the dishes; and only the 
 wine and two glasses, and a branched candlestick, 
 remained on the table. The candles were lighted, 
 for dusk was filling the room. 
 
 " Madam," said the captain, " I shall take it as a 
 great favour if you will tell me something of how 
 Fate brought you to the strange pass from which 
 you escaped this morning. I do not ask as one 
 who has a right to question, nor as one entertaining 
 any thought of judging or criticizing; nor do I ask 
 for your story in idle curiosity. But as your pro- 
 tector, for the time, I request your confidence. In 
 knowing something of how your misfortunes came 
 about of how your enemy got you in his toils 
 I shall be able to plan your immediate movements,
 
 More About the Rescued Lady 105 
 
 as your temporary guardian, with the more assur- 
 ance." 
 
 " You speak," she sighed " you speak as if 
 as if you were already tired of your charge." Her 
 face was averted ; her voice shook. " The danger 
 of the adventure is past and so and so you 
 have lost interest in it and me." 
 
 The captain felt a shock at that, despite the reck- 
 lessness of his spirit, but he let nothing of it show 
 in his face. He turned and let his gaze rest kindly 
 upon the lady. She did not meet his eyes, however. 
 
 " Perhaps you know my family? " she continued. 
 " It is an Essex family." She shot a swift glance 
 across the candle-light a furtive, questioning 
 glance. 
 
 " I do not think I know anybody in Essex," he 
 replied. 
 
 " The name is Hollingstun," she said. " My 
 father is a man of very considerable property, a 
 high temper and almost incredible pride of blood 
 and position." 
 
 " How long is it since you have seen him, 
 madam ? " inquired the captain. 
 
 " It is almost two years," she answered. 
 
 The captain had nothing to say to that, but re- 
 flected that many things might have happened in
 
 106 Captain Love 
 
 those two years. Time has strange tricks to play 
 with both property and pride to say nothing of 
 Death. He felt no little wonder at the lady taking 
 her father's present condition and attitude so en- 
 tirely for granted. Also, he felt a touch of wonder 
 at her self-possession. She had certainly made a 
 remarkably speedy recovery from her weakness and 
 terror of the morning 1 . 
 
 " My mother died when I was seven years old," 
 continued the lady. " I was the third and youngest 
 child. Two years ago, on the morning of my sev- 
 enteenth birthday, I met a young gentleman who 
 was visiting in the neighbourhood. He was very 
 handsome and charming, and caught my interest 
 immediately; and he, poor boy, fell desperately in 
 love with me at first sight. But my father, proud 
 and violent man, threatened to whip the boy, and 
 to fasten me in my room, if we ever tried to meet 
 each other again. It appears that the young man 
 was of a comparatively modern family and of 
 modest fortune. I was intended to marry some 
 one of family pride and acreage equal to my 
 father's. But that was not to be. My lover was 
 not as modest as his fortune ; and so, in that dark- 
 est hour before dawn, I descended from my 
 chamber window by help of the ivy on the wall,
 
 107 
 
 stole through the dew-wet gardens and shrubberies, 
 entered a carriage at the turn of the avenue and 
 drove away with the man of my choice. We had 
 ten miles to go before reaching a certain inn where 
 a parson and a change of horses awaited us. But 
 not more than half of that first stage of our journey 
 was accomplished when our carriage came to a 
 sudden stand-still, cries and pistol-shots rang about 
 us, doors were wrenched open and sashes broken 
 and I fainted away." 
 
 " Gad, it is like a story in a book," exclaimed the 
 captain. 
 
 The lady, evidently too busy with remembering 
 her adventures, gave no heed to his remark. She 
 sat with one hand shading her eyes in an attitude 
 of deep thought. " When I regained the use of my 
 wits," she continued, " I found myself lying on a 
 couch in a small, unfamiliar room, bound hand and 
 foot. I screamed ; whereupon the door opened and 
 a masked man entered, unfastened my hands and 
 gave me wine and food. I asked him a hundred 
 questions I begged him to return me to my home 
 I clasped his hands and prayed him to take me to 
 the young man from whom I had been torn but 
 he answered not so much as a word to all my plead- 
 ings. I shed tears; I screamed and sobbed; I
 
 108 Captain Love 
 
 prayed to him in God's name. But the beast only 
 stared at me through the holes in his black mask. 
 Soon I was blindfolded, lifted in strong arms and 
 carried and deposited on the seat of a carriage. But 
 why describe the horrors of that journey. At last 
 it ended, and I found myself in that fearful house 
 on the heath in that hell from which you rescued 
 me only a few hours agp." 
 
 For what seemed to them both a long time, they 
 sat very quiet and silent. The captain felt an un- 
 comfortable conviction that he had been listening 
 to a tremendous lie. Just what this conviction was 
 founded upon, he could not say. At last he pushed 
 his chair back from the table. 
 
 " Thank you, madam. It was a most remarkable 
 experience," he said, quietly. 
 
 The lady sprang from her seat. Her thin face 
 was flaming and her fine eyes were like stars. 
 
 " You do not believe me ! " she cried. " Oh, you 
 do not believe a word that I have said ! You think 
 me false to your kindness." 
 
 " Nay, by God ! " exclaimed the captain, des- 
 perately confused. " Nay, my dear lady, I assure 
 you I assure you that I think nothing of the 
 kind." 
 
 " Oh, you are cruel," she sighed.
 
 More About the Rescued Lady 109 
 
 " That that is unfair," he said, looking every- 
 where but at her pleading lips and eyes. 
 
 She sank back in her seat and hid her face in her 
 hands. He noticed jewels on her slender fingers 
 
 jewels that flashed red and white fire at the 
 movements of her sobbing. His heart smote him 
 with emotions of tenderness and reproach. But he 
 held his ground, gazing down at the weeping 
 woman with a face of dismay and pain. 
 
 " Why did you ask me ? " she whispered, without 
 changing her position. " And why did you expect 
 me to tell you the truth ; when you knew 
 
 you must have known that the truth was so 
 bitter?" 
 
 " Madam," said he, " I beg you to forgive me. 
 From my heart, I beg your pardon most humbly. 
 Consider it, if you can, as though I had asked no 
 questions and you had made no answers." He 
 paused, and stepped closer to her. " I must go 
 now," he said. " You will be safe and well cared 
 for here, and I shall see you again to-morrow. 
 Good night, madam." 
 
 She did not move or reply, and he saw the glint 
 of tears, like more jewels, on her fingers. 
 
 " Please do not think unkindly of me," he said. 
 " It was in stupidity in ignorance that I ques-
 
 110 Captain Love 
 
 tioned you." He touched her bright hair very 
 lightly with his fingers. " Good night, madam," 
 he whispered. 
 
 Like a flash she was standing before him. Quick 
 as a breath her arms were about his neck, and for 
 a brief mad second her lips burned on his. And 
 then, swift as light, she was gone from the room. 
 
 The captain continued to stand there, for a little 
 while, like one stricken by a bolt of lightning. 
 
 " By Gad ! " he whispered, presently. " By 
 Heaven! Well, I'll be damned! " 
 
 By her own confession, the woman had lied to 
 him; also, by her own confession, she was what 
 she was. But his blood raced in his veins, his head 
 was in a whirl, and unmeaning oaths continued to 
 issue from his trembling lips. At last he rang for 
 the innkeeper. 
 
 " Take good care of my sister," he said, laying 
 money on the table. " See to it that she lacks noth- 
 ing, and and keep this matter quiet. I shall re- 
 turn to-morrow." 
 
 Then he left the snug, candle-lit dining-room, 
 stumbled along a dark passage, and issued blindly 
 upon the alley.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE MEETING 
 
 CAPTAIN LOVE, forgetting all about his good 
 gray horse, tramped home on his own two feet. 
 Though he walked straight enough, his head was; in 
 a maze. Was ever a man in a stranger predica- 
 ment? Did ever a man live a shiftier manner of 
 existence? he wondered. His nameless state and 
 the risky nature of his livelihood were bad enough, 
 surely ; but the state of his heart troubled him more 
 than these. He wondered if the blow which the 
 robber had dealt his head had not weakened or in- 
 flamed his heart in some way; for here he was (he 
 could not deny it) at one and the same time shaken 
 and fired by Dorothy Petre and by the woman 
 whom he had rescued from the house on the heath, 
 and enraptured also by a vague dream. And this 
 dream disturbed him most of all, for it seemed 
 positively insane for an active man, with living 
 beauties before his eyes, to be in love with a dream. 
 The dream was so vague a garden, a woman, 
 
 111
 
 112 Captain Love 
 
 and a forgotten face. And yet his heart had felt 
 no other ecstasy to compare with the ecstasy of 
 that dream. 
 
 " Love ! " he exclaimed. " Gad, but my heart is 
 a pulp ! The Fates must have tossed me that name 
 with their tongues in their cheeks." 
 
 He reached the door of his house without ad- 
 venture, and found his old servant awaiting him on 
 the threshold, lantern in hand. 
 
 " So you're home at last," exclaimed the old man. 
 " We've been in a fine way, a-worryin' about you. 
 An' you've lost your horse." 
 
 " My horse ? Well, upon my soul, I'd forgotten 
 all about him," replied the captain. " But he is safe 
 enough in a very comfortable stable." 
 
 " My old woman's mournin' you for dead," said 
 the servant, in a milder voice. " She couldn't have 
 carried on worse if it had been me she thought was 
 killed. She's been in her bed all day, she feels that 
 bad." 
 
 " I am perfectly well," the captain assured him. 
 
 " An' there be a fellow here, a-waitin' to see you 
 since afore sunset," said old Tom. " He says his 
 name is Clark, an' that he owns a fine inn, an' is a 
 particular friend of your Honour's. I couldn't get 
 him out of the house, so I locked away all the valu-
 
 The Meeting 113 
 
 ables and have kept my two eyes on him ever since 
 he come." 
 
 " Well, now you can go to bed," said the captain, 
 and brushed past him and ran lightly up the stairs. 
 
 He found Joseph Clark in his room, seated by 
 the table where burned one candle in a pewter 
 holder. Old Tom had evidently hidden away the 
 silver candlesticks. The innkeeper sprang to his 
 feet and advanced with extended hand. 
 
 " I've been in a bad way," said he. " I thought 
 them devils had made an end of you. I went out 
 to the place, colonel, but it was quiet as death, an' 
 the windows an' doors all fastened. So I came 
 straight to town to look for you." 
 
 " That was very good of you. I am sorry I 
 caused you any uneasiness," said the captain. 
 
 " I have had a most remarkable day of it," he 
 added. 
 
 " I'll swear you had, sir. Your face shows it," 
 rejoined Qark. 
 
 The captain set a decanter of spirits, and glasses, 
 on the table, and also a jar of the Virginian leaf 
 and two tobacco pipes. 
 
 " Your face shows it, sir," continued the inn- 
 keeper, as he stuffed his pipe with his thumb. He 
 lit it at the candle. " The light's not overgood, but
 
 114 Captain Love 
 
 it's enough to show the glow and weariness of your 
 features, sir. Did you break up that nest of 
 butchers, may I ask ? " 
 
 " I gave them a shock. I did for one of them," 
 answered the captain. " I shook that damned house 
 to its foundations, you may swear to that, Joseph." 
 
 " Ay, you'd do that, sir. And what about the 
 beautiful lady?" 
 
 The captain looked his friend squarely in the one 
 eye which shone from the folds of the bandages. 
 
 " Why, as for the beautiful lady, I got her safely 
 away," he said, calmly. 
 
 " May I roast in hell ! " exclaimed Clark. 
 
 " And you may well call her beautiful," said the 
 captain. 
 
 " Stap my vitals ! " cried the other. 
 
 " And she came away willingly. She rode in 
 front of me, on the gray horse," continued Love. 
 
 " But I'll vow she took a good look at you, first," 
 said Clark. " A girl rm>ht ride away with you, 
 colonel, an' still not be a saint. They changes their 
 lovers, they do, whenever they see a chance to better 
 themselves an' small blame to 'em for changin', 
 say I." 
 
 " Nay, you do not understand," said Love. " She 
 was distracted with fear and disgust of that place.
 
 The Meeting 115 
 
 She would have ridden away with her grandfather. 
 She was in great distress. You do wrong, Joseph, 
 to so readily think wrong of an unfortunate 
 woman." 
 
 " Ay, maybe you're right," said Clark, with a 
 doubtful smile. For a few seconds he pulled hard 
 at his pipe, his eyes resting on the captain's face 
 with a light of tenderness and amusement. 
 
 " Oh, you are young, colonel, for all your skill 
 an' heart in fighting," he said. " You are tender 
 inside, for all your spunk. I take it, sir, that the 
 two things that work on you most surely and 
 swiftly are beauty an' pity. After you pounded 
 my mask, you pitied me so then you felt devilish 
 friendly toward me. But this woman, I swear, was 
 ,both pitiful and beautiful." 
 
 " Yes," said the captain, laughing uneasily. 
 " Yes, she is pitiful and beautiful." 
 
 Clark pondered deeply, the while he blew forth 
 great clouds of tobacco smoke. " Where is she 
 now? " he asked. 
 
 " She is in a safe and quiet place in town," re- 
 plied Love. 
 
 " Why didn't you bring her to me, sir? " 
 
 "To tell you the truth, I suggested it; but she 
 seemed to have a very decided objection to my tak-
 
 116 Captain Love 
 
 ing her to your inn. I had quite forgotten the in- 
 cident, queer as it was. Queer things have driven 
 it from my mind. Now that I come to recollect it, 
 we rode a long way 'round for no other reason 
 than to avoid the White Heron." 
 
 " Who is this woman ? " asked Qark, leaning 
 forward and peering at the captain, with his one 
 visible eye very bright and steady. 
 
 " I do not know," replied Love. " She told me 
 a story which she afterward confessed was untrue. 
 She said that she came from Essex but that 
 counts for nothing and that she ran away with 
 a young and charming lover, from a proud and in- 
 exorable father, and was torn from her lover's arms 
 and travelling carriage by masked men, and carried 
 to the house on the heath. But she afterward con- 
 fessed that the whole story was a lie. Yes, she 
 told me it was a lie when she saw that I did not 
 believe it." 
 
 " What what does this woman look like ? " 
 inquired Joseph Qark, in a voice so thin and 
 strange as to cause the captain to stare at him in 
 wonder. Then pity and amazement gripped his 
 tender heart! 
 
 " I read your mind," said he ; " but surely, surely 
 it is running wild ! "
 
 The Meeting 117 
 
 " I ask you a simple question, sir. Pray tell me 
 of her appearance," cried the other, feverishly. By 
 now the fire in his pipe was dead and he leaned 
 half-way across the table. 
 
 " She is frail of body," replied Love, quietly. 
 " Her face is thin, as if with suffering, and yet very 
 beautiful. Her lips are very red." 
 
 " Yes ! Yes ! " murmured the other. 
 
 " Her eyes are wonderful," continued the cap- 
 tain. " Her hands are slender and soft." 
 
 "Of what colour is her hair? Of what colour 
 are her eyes? " cried Clark. 
 
 The captain stared, blushed and stammered. 
 
 " Well, upon my soul ! Her eyes ? Her hair? 
 They are very beautiful; but damme if I know 
 their colour! No, rip me if I do! " 
 
 At that Clark sank back between the arms of his 
 chair, but continued to gaze fixedly at the gentle- 
 man. " You must be blind," he murmured " or 
 bent on fooling me." 
 
 " Fooling you ? " cried the captain. " My dear 
 man, I would not fool you for a chest of gold. 
 You fool yourself, I think, in entertaining, for a 
 moment, the wild thought that is in your mind. 
 This woman is of the world. Maybe there is a 
 strain of foreign blood in her, though to that I'd
 
 118 Captain Love 
 
 not swear. She knows her beauty, and uses it to 
 the full of its power. She is sophisticated. She 
 she is more sophisticated than than I at first 
 believed." 
 
 " Ay, that might well be," remarked Clark, in a 
 bitter voice. 
 
 " My dear friend," said the captain, " you opened 
 your heart to me, not long- ago, and in return I 
 displayed my most intimate troubles to you ; so you 
 will forgive me, I trust, if I speak frankly now. 
 You spoke to me of your daughter; and now I am 
 convinced that you entertain some hopes of finding 
 her in the person of this young woman whom I 
 have rescued from the house on the heath. God 
 knows, Joe, that it hurts me to dash your hopes, but 
 I must honestly say that I cannot associate my idea 
 of your daughter with this woman. Your daugh- 
 ter, I take it, possessed the charms of simplicity, 
 modesty and innocence, along with her beauty of 
 person. This lady, though beautiful without a flaw, 
 is not simple. I make no statement against her 
 modesty and innocence, for she is maddeningly at- 
 tractive. She is armed, at all points, for the cap- 
 ture of men God forgive me for saying it ! Oh, 
 yes, she is charming; and I believe her heart to be
 
 The Meeting 119 
 
 sound and generous; but she is full of arts and 
 wiles." 
 
 "That might well be," said the other. "But 
 tell me, why did she refuse to come to my house? 
 or even within sight of it? " 
 
 Captain Love shook his head. " Women have 
 queer whims," he said. " 'Twould take a wiser 
 man than either you or me to find a logical reason 
 in some of them. It may be that she wanted to 
 come to town the quicker." 
 
 "If you have no objections, sir, I'll see the lady 
 to-morrow," said Clark. 
 
 " Why, none at all ; and perhaps you will be able 
 to advise me as to my course in the matter," replied 
 the captain. " The guardianship of a beautiful 
 woman is not a position to be lightly considered, 
 and especially of a beautiful woman who has had 
 such such adventures," he added. 
 
 Bright and early on the following morning, the 
 two repaired to the quiet hostel in the quiet alley. 
 Clark, having dispensed with a portion of his band- 
 age, displayed more of his visage and looked con- 
 siderably more presentable than on the previous 
 day. Though both his eyes were now exposed to 
 view, one was purple as a plum and tight closed.
 
 120 Captain Love 
 
 The innkeeper received his visitors with several 
 skips and bows, ushered them into the private par- 
 lour and immediately took word of the captain's 
 arrival to the lady. 
 
 " You need not mention the fact that I am not 
 alone," said the captain. 
 
 Clark fell to pacing the room, and clasping and 
 unclasping his great hands. " I feel it in my 
 bones," he murmured. " You say she is beautiful. 
 Ay, an' so was my lass, God knows! But my lass 
 was modest as a babe. And this woman ? God 
 keep us ! " 
 
 Even the captain began to feel something of this 
 fever of expectancy and nervousness. 
 
 " It is a chance," he thought. " Life is as full as 
 a play of such things." He faced Clark, with a 
 hand on the big shoulder. " If it is your girl," he 
 said " tell me, do you forgive her? " 
 
 " Forgive her ? Yes, I will forgive her all her 
 ingratitude and all her sins," replied Clark. " But 
 I must see her on her knees to me, first. She must 
 shed a tear or two for the years of pain she has 
 caused me and for the shame she has brought on 
 me and on her dead mother. Ay, we must not 
 forget that, for all the pity of it ! "
 
 The Meeting 121 
 
 " Be merciful," said the captain. " She has suf- 
 fered greatly." 
 
 They heard light, swift steps approaching the 
 door. Both men turned, and the captain felt alter- 
 nate waves of heat and cold go over him. As for 
 Clark, his heart shook in his side, his breath dried 
 on his tongue and his legs trembled. The door 
 opened and the rescued lady entered. She wore 
 the blue silk gown of the night before; her eyes 
 were radiant; her face was tinged with swift- 
 mantling blood. Her glance flew straight to the 
 captain's face and, with no word, but a little, soft 
 cry of welcome, she advanced to him, with hands 
 extended. His eyes wavered under the intimate 
 caress of hers. But he stepped forward (he, too, 
 was oblivious to Qark's presence) and took her 
 hands firmly and tenderly in his. At that moment 
 a muffled and indescribable cry broke the magic 
 that seemed to enwrap the room. Both turned; 
 and the woman's face was suddenly stricken as 
 white as paper.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE HELL -RAKE 
 
 THE fifth Earl of Buckley was, without question, 
 the most disreputable gentleman in London. He 
 had no reputation save for general rascality; and 
 he had no gentility except his inherited patent of 
 such for an earl is a gentleman, whether he will 
 or no. This undesirable peer owned lands in Kent, 
 with a fine rental, but spent all his time in and about 
 London. He had possessed the title and estates 
 for six years; and even his intimate friends were 
 ignorant as to the greater part of his career previ- 
 ous to that time. There was a rumour that he had 
 left England at an early age, under circumstances 
 so questionable that it was with a very sound rea- 
 son, that, even now, he kept away from his own 
 county. It was known, for certain, that he had 
 fought the French in the wilderness of North 
 America ; but even over his brief career as a soldier 
 there hung a cloud. Some said that he had slain a 
 comrade with a blow dealt in the dark others, 
 
 122
 
 The Hell-rake 123 
 
 that he had fled openly from the enemy on more 
 than one occasion and had, at last, been ignomini- 
 ously kicked out of his regiment by his brother 
 officers without any reference to the higher authori- 
 ties. Such a thing might easily have happened at 
 that time and in the North American wilderness. 
 He had, after that, adventured in trade with the 
 red savages of that wild country, and had lived 
 their primitive life for years; but the story of his 
 marriage to a squaw and ultimate ejection from 
 the tribe, for dishonesty, had so frail a foundation 
 that it is scarce worthy of consideration. 
 
 Dishonourably ejected from both the army and 
 the fur-trade, the fine fellow took to the sea and 
 followed it for several years, though in what capac- 
 ity and what manner of craft, Heaven only knows. 
 Rumour had it that he was a pirate, not an ounce 
 better than Dead-Eye Silva and Dick English 
 worse, perhaps, in so much that he lacked courage 
 and brains. Let it suffice that, when he returned to 
 England to take up the title and estates, he brought 
 from the hazy past neither medals nor fortune nor 
 friends. 
 
 Even when established in the country of his 
 fathers, with a title, lands and coin, Buckley did not 
 shine in any capacity. Though possessed of a cer-
 
 124 Captain Love 
 
 tain kind of wit a low cunning he was no 
 better than a fool as a peer of the realm. As a 
 landed proprietor he accomplished nothing but the 
 spending of the rents. As a gentleman about town 
 why, there was not a stable-boy in London but 
 could have played closer to the part. Manners he 
 had none; but, instead, a number of gross habits 
 and stupid grimaces. His conversation consisted 
 almost entirely of oaths; and his oaths were as 
 devoid of appropriateness as they were of elegance. 
 Sober, he might be mistaken for a drunken alder- 
 man. Drunk, he was no improvement on the pirate 
 he had been. 
 
 In anger he was vicious, and in mirth, offensive. 
 On more than one occasion since his advent into 
 London life had he confirmed the rumours of his 
 past by proving himself a coward. His adventures 
 in the wilderness and on the high seas had taught 
 him discretion, however, and he sometimes dis- 
 played a positive genius in discriminating between 
 men who could be safely bullied and men whom it 
 was wiser to leave alone. 
 
 Buckley's attitude toward women of every de- 
 gree was both revolting and laughable, or entirely 
 one or the other. The vanity of the man in this 
 connection was gigantic. He honestly considered
 
 The Hell-rake 125 
 
 himself to be a breaker of hearts, though (unless 
 the story of the red squaw was true) he had never 
 so much as touched a woman's heart (except with 
 disgust) with anything but gold. In fact, he was 
 the most uncouth and disgraceful figure be it of 
 noble or commoner in the whole kingdom. He 
 had a following, however, and never lacked com- 
 panions for a revel nor at the gaming-table. Also, 
 the doors of many presumably decent houses were 
 open to him which, thanks to the wide lands of 
 Buckley and the standing of the title, would have 
 been the case had the earl been the devil himself. 
 
 Buckley occupied a sumptuous house in London, 
 kept an army of servants, and went through life at 
 a gallop. His most intimate companions (he had 
 no friends), however, were never sure where to find 
 him, for he had a trick of disappearing from his 
 house at irregular intervals, sometimes for a day 
 and sometimes for a week. When questioned as to 
 where he had been and in what devilment engaged, 
 he either laughed or cursed, according to his mood 
 at the moment, but by no chance made any dis- 
 closure. 
 
 For all his fine pedigree, this earl detested men 
 of breeding, for in his heart he must have known 
 himself for what he really was. Sir John Petre was
 
 126 Captain Love 
 
 to him what a red cloth is to a bull, though a very 
 proper sense of fear kept him from showing his 
 feelings too openly. He feared the baronet's sword 
 and pistols as sincerely as he hated his grave face, 
 modulated voice and polished manners. There were 
 many more gentlemen in London toward whom he 
 felt the same way and Captain Love had not been 
 long in town before he, too, was on the list. In 
 Love's case, the earl did not exercise the same care 
 in disguising his feelings as he did in some of the 
 others, for Love's position was not exalted, nor 
 even clearly known. He admitted that he was a 
 soldier of fortune; the son of a country parson; 
 only distantly related to the substantial county 
 family of the name, so, short of bodily injury, 
 Buckley considered that he had nothing to fear 
 from the little captain. Believing him to be pos- 
 sessed of neither friends nor property, he decided 
 that here was a safe target for the shafts of his 
 ugly temper; and so, in their frequent meetings in 
 public places, he treated the youth with open rude- 
 ness. For some time it seemed that the captain was 
 not so much as aware of the other's presence. 
 
 On the afternoon of the day following Captain 
 Love's rescue of the lady from the house on the 
 heath the lady who, for all her beauty, charm
 
 The Hell-rake 127 
 
 and sophistication, proved to be none other than 
 Joseph Clark's lost daughter Lord Buckley called 
 on Dorothy Petre, at the house of her brother the 
 baronet. He had met the young lady some months 
 before, at a ball at the Marquis of Tucknor's, and, 
 deeply impressed by her charms, had kept her in 
 his mind ever since. A man must settle down some 
 time or other, he had at last decided, and as a part 
 of settling down is surely the wedding of a wife, 
 why should he not offer himself and his title to 
 Dorothy Petre. For looks, she hadn't her equal in 
 town; and it was well known that she possessed, 
 in her own right, a fair property near Willington 
 that had come to her by way of a great-aunt. 
 There was no doubt in Buckley's mind as to the 
 outcome of the venture. The lady would be flat- 
 tered; the baronet would be flattered; the whole 
 town would feel that the young lady had made an 
 excellent match. For a time, the earl had played 
 fast and loose with the idea then a word in his 
 ear, from one of his intimates, that the young ad- 
 venturer, Captain Love, was exhibiting a prodigious 
 friendship for Sir John, sent him about his errand. 
 In his most gorgeous apparel, and eminently 
 sober, Buckley drove in state to the door of Petre's 
 house, descended from his carriage and pulled the
 
 128 Captain Love 
 
 bell himself. In the hall he was met by Sir John. 
 They bowed to one another with a deal of cere- 
 mony, Buckley feeling that he could show a trick 
 or two of breeding to any damn baronet in England. 
 
 " I have the honour," began the earl "ah I 
 have taken the honour and pleasure upon my- 
 self of calling to pay my humble respect to your 
 sister." 
 
 He made this speech with visible effort. Petre 
 eyed him with a chill and inquiring half-smile. 
 
 " My sister? " he inquired. 
 
 " Ay, your sister. The little one," replied the 
 earl. 
 
 " This is vastly polite of you," said the baronet. 
 " I'll remember to tell her that you called." 
 
 " I want to see her," exclaimed the earl. " Gad, 
 man, d'ye think I came to exchange the time o' day 
 with you ? " 
 
 " You cannot see her," said Sir John. 
 
 " D'ye know who you are speaking to," cried 
 Buckley. 
 
 " Only too well," replied the other. " Good day 
 to you." 
 
 " You'll suffer for this," exploded the earl. " I'll 
 have your damn watery blood for this ! "
 
 The Hell-rake 129 
 
 For the moment his discretion was lost in rage 
 and injured vanity. 
 
 " In the meantime, my lord, I'll trouble you to 
 get to the devil out of my house," said Petre, in a 
 tone which began very softly but thickened and 
 quickened dangerously at the end. 
 
 So the earl went, quite forgetting, in his haste, 
 to make any arrangements concerning the time or 
 place or manner in which he was to satisfy his out- 
 raged feelings by spilling the blood of the baronet. 
 He went to Babcock's and strove to drown the 
 memory of the rebuff in a quart of wine ; and the 
 quart was no more than comfortably put away, and 
 the fire of it just beginning to glow and pulse within 
 his skull, when Captain Love entered the place. 
 
 The captain looked pale and preoccupied. He 
 had gone through a disturbing time, what with the 
 meeting of Clark and his daughter, just after 
 breakfast, the lady's subsequent accusations that 
 he, Love, had tricked her into her father's hands, 
 and after that, hysterics. At last, however, father 
 and daughter had gone quietly away to the White 
 Heron, in the captain's own carriage. The young 
 woman had made several honest efforts to tell 
 her story, but, though Clark had seemed satis-
 
 130 Captain Love 
 
 fied and enlightened, the captain had not gathered 
 any clear impression of the matter. She had run 
 away with one man, been kidnapped by another 
 and, for two years, had been a prisoner in the house 
 on the heath. She said that she did not know the 
 name of the man who had kidnapped her, or what 
 had become of the lover from whose inadequate 
 protection she had been so rudely torn within a few 
 hours of the elopement. Clark, for all his bluster 
 before her entrance, had forgiven her and taken 
 her into his arms as soon as he had recovered from 
 the first shock of the meeting. Indeed, he had 
 asked very few questions, and had forced no an- 
 swers. But question after question, unuttered by 
 the voice, rang through the captain's brain. He 
 strove to put them away from him ; but, even after 
 the departure of the father and daughter, the little 
 devils of curiosity and supposition continued to tor- 
 ture his mind and heart. Even in his own house 
 they did not leave him. She was so beautiful. She 
 was so fine. He was a fool, a blackguard, to let 
 his thoughts dwell on that awful imprisonment. 
 And who was the man who had kept her in that 
 house for two years? And what had she intended 
 him Love to understand by her caresses ? 
 When the captain entered Babcock's, seeking
 
 The Hell-rake 131 
 
 diversion from his thoughts, he felt as dejected as 
 he looked. It seemed to him that every new expe- 
 rience proved, more and more conclusively, that life 
 was out-of- joint and the world upside-down. 
 
 " 'Tis a blind game," he reflected and at that 
 moment, in glancing about the room, his eyes met 
 the heated and insolent regard of Lord Buckley. 
 He returned the stare for a moment with cool in- 
 difference, then chose a seat at an unoccupied table 
 and beckoned to a waiter. He had no more than 
 tasted his liquor than Buckley came to his table. 
 
 " Don't you know me? " asked the earl. 
 
 The captain looked him up and down. " Why, 
 yes, I believe I do," he replied. 
 
 " Who am I ? " asked the other. 
 
 " The Earl of Buckley." 
 
 "Yes," cried the bully. "I am the Earl of 
 Buckley. And who the devil are you ? " 
 
 " Don't you know me, my lord ? " inquired the 
 captain, raising his eyebrows. 
 
 " No, I don't. Who are you, an' where d'ye 
 come from ? " 
 
 " I'll tell you who I am," said the captain. " I 
 am the man who, in all probability, will pull your 
 lordship's nose before many seconds are past. You 
 are drunker than usual, sir. Go back to your seat
 
 132 Captain Love 
 
 and attend to your own affairs, for I'm not in a 
 mood to stand any more of your insolence." 
 
 " You you upstart ! You landless dandy ! " 
 began Buckley. 
 
 " Go back to your seat," said Love, " or else I'll 
 whip you now, and shoot you to-morrow morning." 
 
 The earl's face became purple from the pressure 
 of futile rage within him. Now, for the second 
 time within the hour, he found himself in a position 
 from which there seemed to be no way of graceful 
 escape. His bubble of insolence was pricked and 
 the eyes of the young adventurer surveyed him 
 steadily and expectantly, as if their owner but 
 waited the signal for the nose-pulling to begin. 
 Buckley knew that if the affair were allowed to 
 progress to nose-pulling he would have no choice 
 but to fight; and he shrewdly suspected that the 
 outcome of the fight would be in the captain's 
 favour. However that might be, he had not the 
 courage to face the chances. At last, with a desper- 
 ate effort, he controlled his voice and his features. 
 
 " My young sir," said he, " you have a devilish 
 bad temper. You should keep it in better order. 
 How d'ye expect to make a place in London, if you 
 go about offering insult to noblemen. Every man 
 is liable, at times, to speak a trifle hastily when in
 
 The Hell-rake 133 
 
 liquor so I advise you, captain, to exercise a bet- 
 ter judgment, in such cases, in the future." 
 
 The captain stared for a moment, then sneered 
 openly. " Well, I'm damned," he exclaimed. 
 " Why, you great oaf, you haven't the spirit of a 
 pot-boy." 
 
 But the earl had turned away, pretending not to 
 hear. 
 
 The captain finished his liquor and then went 
 upstairs where, playing recklessly and with but a 
 half of his mind on the game, he won half a pocket- 
 ful of gold. He was leaving the place, in company 
 with several friends, when the notable Babcock him- 
 self bowed before him, to attract his attention. 
 
 " May I have your attention for a moment, sir ? " 
 asked the proprietor. 
 
 Love stepped aside and smiled graciously upon 
 the stout old fellow. 
 
 " I want to warn you, sir," whispered Babcock. 
 " Lord Buckley won't fight you, sir; but he won't 
 forgive, neither. He has queer followers, has his 
 lordship so be careful, sir, how you go about 
 after night." 
 
 The captain thanked him warmly and rejoined his 
 friends.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE BEGGAR 
 
 As the days went by, Captain Richard Love be- 
 came a well-known figure to the fashionable world 
 of London at large, as well as to all grades of 
 society in the more immediate neighbourhood of 
 his own house. Among the fashionables he was re- 
 marked for his air of high-breeding (which seemed 
 proof alike against the shrewdest reverses and most 
 startling successes at play) ; for his charm of per- 
 son and manner; for his wit, and his romantic, 
 though vague, history. The poor knew him for his 
 generosity and tenderness, and he was spoken of by 
 every beggar and unfortunate person, for blocks 
 around, as " my captain " or " my young gentle- 
 man." Their claims of ownership existed in their 
 love and gratitude toward him ; and it was not long 
 before these humble admirers, had they been forced 
 to choose between the captain's smiles and the cap- 
 tain's shillings, would have taken the smiles, and 
 gone hungry, with warm hearts. He had a way of 
 
 134
 
 The Beggar 135 
 
 stepping into the houses of these people as a gentle- 
 man might look into a cottage on his own estate, 
 with a paper of tobacco, perhaps, or a yellow orange 
 and, if need were, even a yellow coin. He 
 preached no creed ; he seemed not to be bent upon 
 any mission save that of good-nature; but a bishop 
 could not have been held in more honour by the 
 sick and poor, than this charming young captain. 
 Also, the doors of the mighty stood open to him, 
 and his place was assured in every drawing-room 
 of distinction in town. At Babcock's he was a 
 leader; and half a hundred gentlemen professed 
 the warmest admiration and friendship for him, in 
 spite of the considerable sums of money which they 
 lost to him at the tables. And Sir John Petre, a 
 man of unusual reserve in such matters, was his 
 open friend. 
 
 The captain's intimacy with the baronet, and his 
 frequent visits to the house off the Strand, did not 
 pass without comment. People did not doubt, for 
 a moment, but that Dorothy was the attraction; 
 for that young lady was not only an acknowledged 
 beauty but something of an heiress. And the cap- 
 tain would be looking for an heiress; for, by his 
 own confession, he was without property, and lived 
 on such pay and prize-money as he had brought
 
 136 Captain Love 
 
 with him from Turkey. Many a young blood, with 
 lightened pockets, wagged his head at mention of 
 the prize-money. 
 
 Since the rescue of Joseph Clark's daughter from 
 the house on the heath the captain's hours of soli- 
 tude had been more disturbing than ever. Thoughts 
 of that young woman were hard to dismiss; even 
 Dorothy's beauty had not touched him so sharply; 
 and yet he could not let his mind dwell upon her 
 without a certain daunting of the spirit. He re- 
 membered her caress with strong and mingled emo- 
 tions; and the little incidents of that romantic ride 
 with the tenderest longing. But behind every 
 thought of her, like a black cloud, hung the horror 
 of those two years. Though he had set out for the 
 White Heron many times in the few months follow- 
 ing that strange adventure, he had, save on one or 
 two occasions, forced himself to turn back; and on 
 those visits he had seen the lady only in her father's 
 presence. But her wonderful eyes had spoken, even 
 though her voice had been silent; and he had re- 
 turned to town, on both occasions, filled with long- 
 ing and an unreasoning sort of self-pity. It was 
 after the second of these visits that the dream of 
 the garden came to him again, again stirring his
 
 The Beggar 137 
 
 spirit to depths below the little merriments and bit- 
 ternesses of the common day. 
 
 For all his apparent recklessness, Captain Love 
 shaped his course with discretion. For all his gaiety 
 in company he spent many bitter hours in his own 
 apartments. That he and his horse and his servants 
 (he had enlarged his establishment) were all sup- 
 ported by money won at play worried him but little. 
 The world had stripped him, and the world must 
 refund. But that he was forced to receive the com- 
 radeship of Sir John, and the gentle friendship of 
 the baronet's sisters, under such false conditions, 
 cut his pride to the quick. What if he were dis- 
 covered held up to the scorn of his friends and 
 the world the very name he had carried so gal- 
 lantly tossed back in his face for a lie? But the 
 months went by and brought no day of reckoning. 
 
 After days of fog, Christmas morning broke 
 bright and frosty over the myriad gables and nar- 
 row streets of London. Snow had fallen during 
 the night ; and now the tiles of the roofs were cov- 
 ered with the shining crystals, steeples were 
 wreathed, and gables wore hoods and garlands of 
 white. Urchins blew on tingling fingers and the 
 poor shivered over scanty fires. Plumes of smoke
 
 138 Captain Love 
 
 rose heavenward from the clustered chimneys of 
 the rich, and rags and furs rubbed elbows in the 
 bright streets. 
 
 Captain Love turned from his hearth and his 
 breakfast-table and looked out of the window. He 
 held in his hand a thin volume, fresh from the 
 printers ; and in his heart was the glow and charity 
 of the season. In the narrow thoroughfare below 
 he saw that which stirred both his interest and his 
 pity. A man of large and gaunt figure, and tattered 
 garments, leaned feebly against the wall of the 
 building opposite. The fellow's feet were wrapped 
 about with rags and his head was uncovered. His 
 black hair was tied in a short, stiff queue; in his 
 ears were rings ; and in his belt a knife in a narrow 
 sheath. After watching him for a few moments, 
 wondering what manner o>f person he could be, the 
 captain pulled a bell in the wainscoting. Presently 
 a young footman clattered up the stairs and opened 
 the door. The captain motioned him to the window 
 and pointed out the strange figure below. 
 
 " A seafarin' man, your Honour," said the 
 servant. 
 
 " And too long from the sea," said Love. 
 
 " Ay, ye may well say so, your Honour," replied 
 the footman.
 
 The Beggar 139 
 
 " Ask him in, Stubble, and give him food and 
 drink," commanded the master. 
 
 Then he pushed his armchair from the table to 
 the hearth and opened his book again. Now and 
 then he read a line or two aloud, for it was a book 
 of poetry. He had been thus employed for more 
 than half an hour when the footman again entered 
 the room. 
 
 " The mariner wishes to see your Honour," he 
 said. 
 
 " Show him up," said the captain, still mumbling 
 a verse. He did not close the book until he heard 
 the stranger's rag-shod feet at the threshold. Then, 
 with his ringer between the pages for a marker, he 
 turned his chair sideways to the fire and looked up. 
 
 " Step in," he said. 
 
 The forlorn man of the sea shuffled into the 
 room, gave a twitch to some imaginary projection 
 from his forehead, and stared around him at the 
 fine rugs, the pictures and the books, with unfeigned 
 delight. Then his gaze rested on the person of his 
 host and, for a second, envy gleamed in his dark 
 eyes. 
 
 " I hope you enjoyed your breakfast," said Cap- 
 tain Love. 
 
 " Ay, sir, I did. It was the first meat an' the
 
 140 Captain Love 
 
 first ale I've tasted for three days," replied the 
 sailor. 
 
 " It would be hard to go empty on Christmas 
 Day," remarked the captain. 
 
 True he could not remember any former Christ- 
 mas; but the spirit of the season seemed familiar. 
 The other smiled grimly. 
 
 " Lord, sir, it's bitter hard to go empty any day," 
 he said, darkly. " The ache in the belly kills a 
 man's courage, sir, as sure as it thins his blood. 
 But what will a gentleman like you understand of 
 hunger and cold ? " he added. 
 
 " Sit down, my good fellow," said the captain, 
 waving his hand to a chair on the opposite side of 
 the hearth. For a moment his guest hesitated. 
 
 " Ye'll not be making sport of my rags, sir ? " 
 he inquired. " I've been a master-shipman in my 
 day and, by God, there's a spice of pride still 
 left in me." 
 
 " My dear sir," cried Love, " was there some- 
 thing amiss with the brew, that you have so poor 
 an opinion of me ? " 
 
 The shipman, now seated, threw out his hands 
 with a gesture adopted from some foreign land. 
 
 " May I drown at sea," he cried, " if I ever hope 
 to let better ale slip down my throat. Nay, sir,"
 
 The Beggar 141 
 
 he continued, " I have the highest regard for your 
 lordship, if I may make so bold as to say it. 'Tis 
 little enough I've seen of gentlemen in my rough 
 life and them broken ones, an' small credit to 
 the names they had the grace not to carry." 
 
 He stared down at his rag-bound feet. 
 
 " Tell me something of your life," said the cap- 
 tain. 
 
 The beggar moved in his chair with a quick 
 shrug of impatience. The mask of servility fell 
 away from his hawk-like features and he looked 
 sternly at his questioner. 
 
 " 'Tis no Christmas tale," he said, " and I'm far 
 too comfortable to court the danger of being kicked 
 from your door." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, most humbly," said Cap- 
 tain Love. " God knows what one of us whether 
 seaman or landsman could disclose the history 
 of his life with any pride in it. The strong and 
 the wise, the bully, the knave and the fool are 
 equally in the way of some chance disconcertion 
 are equally the toys of a blundering world." 
 
 The stranger smiled faintly, and allowed his eyes 
 to wander over the books along the wall. 
 
 " Sir, I cannot agree with you," he said. " No 
 good man and no wise one would have led such an
 
 142 Captain Love 
 
 existence as mine. A man may fall, and rise again, 
 repentant, with something of his honour left to 
 him. Nay, sir, though the world may be a blun- 
 derer, a man's heart works his destiny. What I 
 have done I have done and the sin is mine own." 
 
 " But circumstances ! " cried the captain. " Surely 
 you cannot deny that circumstances may force inno- 
 cent persons into equivocal positions." 
 
 " It is quite evident," replied the sailor, " that 
 we have very different degrees of iniquity in our 
 thoughts. You speak of an equivocal position," 
 here his voice lowered and his eyes glowed, 
 " and I am thinking of black, criminal sins for 
 which gallows stand and hell burns." 
 
 The captain sighed. Then he looked keenly at 
 the stranger. For a beggar in rags and earrings, 
 he surely displayed a remarkable mind and an un- 
 usual fluency of expression. His guest read the 
 look. 
 
 " I have travelled, sir, and I have used my eyes 
 and ears; and in the long sea- watches I have read 
 books to keep me from my own thoughts," he 
 said. 
 
 During the remainder of his stay he spoke un- 
 couthly, with great sea-oaths to garnish the merest 
 trifles, and a deal of foolish laughter. But the
 
 The Beggar 143 
 
 acting was ill done, and Captain Love felt offended 
 by it. 
 
 " What matter if you seem a churl or an edu- 
 cated man to me? " he asked. " 'Tis not likely we 
 shall ever meet again. So, for Heaven's sake, be 
 honest for a little and talk with your own tongue 
 and your own mind. Your present conversation 
 does not interest me." 
 
 The stranger's manner again changed. He got 
 stiffly to his feet and gazed down at his entertainer 
 with his former air of independence. 
 
 " You are mistaken," he said, coolly. " I am a 
 beggar, a forlorn mariner cast on a leeshore and 
 broken utterly. And now I will thank you for 
 your charity and condescension, and go my way." 
 
 The captain stepped up to him. 
 
 " Perhaps we have caught a glimpse each into 
 the other's heart," said he, " and if I see something 
 in yours better than you yourself know of, why 
 consider it a liberty on my part? If I prefer you 
 in your true manner rather than assumed, why 
 force the latter upon me? Come, sir, it is Christ- 
 mas morning, a season in which a man must 
 treat even himself with charity." 
 
 He drew a small purse from his pocket. " That 
 the world has hit us both some shrewd clouts, it is
 
 144 Captain Love 
 
 more than likely," he continued ; " but, putting the 
 blundering of the world aside, here is a Christmas 
 present from one sinner to another." 
 
 The stranger took the purse with a trembling 
 hand and bowed low. 
 
 " We have both failed at our play-acting," he 
 said. " You will not believe me an ignoramus and 
 I must respectfully doubt your pretensions to sin." 
 He raised his head and looked steadily into the 
 captain's eyes. " God bless you," he said, gruffly.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 THE CAPTAIN'S OUTBREAK 
 
 THESE were days of high living in Merry Eng- 
 land. Though people of fashion, with but few 
 exceptions, drank their cocoa in bed, the breakfast- 
 tables continued to display an undiminished variety 
 of hearty dishes. Dinner was eaten early in the 
 afternoon, and supper (a meal as elaborate as din- 
 ner) came on at about the fashionable dining-hour 
 of to-day. And in the merry Christmas season the 
 eating and drinking were doubled. 
 
 Captain Love was invited to dine and sup at Sir 
 John Petre's. So, shortly after his interview with 
 the strange sailor, he set out for his friend's house. 
 His clothes, his shoes, and even his wig were new, 
 in honour of the day; and what a shrewd sum the 
 wig had cost him ! His small-sword had jewels set 
 in the silver hilt. As he threw coins to every beg- 
 gar he passed, his advance was attended by bless- 
 ings and humble salutations. As it was Christmas, 
 he continued the distribution of alms far beyond the 
 bounds of his own district. 
 
 146
 
 146 Captain Love 
 
 " God bless your bright eyes, sir," cried an old 
 women, in gratitude for his casual charity. 
 
 At that he paused, felt again in his pocket, and 
 held out to her a golden guinea. 
 
 " Here, goody, is something brighter," he said. 
 
 " Nay, sweet sir," she cried, shaking her old 
 head, " ye've given freely, three bits of good 
 silver, an' I'll not be paid for speakin' my mind 
 of your lordship. Bright eyes ye have brighter 
 than the gold in your boxes or the jewels on your 
 lady's hands and a heart of gold, I know ; for 
 have I not loved you since ever ye came to Lon- 
 don." 
 
 " And what of the jewels on my lady's hands? " 
 he asked, smiling down at her. " Have you ever 
 seen me with a lady, good dame? " 
 
 The old body laughed happily, for here was food 
 for gossip and vanity to last many a long day. 
 Seven people whom she knew were gazing at her 
 and the fine gentleman, their eyes wide with amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 " The sweetest and highest in the kingdom would 
 be yours," she said ; " and though my heart knows 
 her well, I've never seen her with these old eyes. 
 She is young and fair, and proud ay, she would
 
 The Captain's Outbreak 147 
 
 be proud of many things. But her heart is tender 
 as your lordship's." 
 
 " Ah, goody, you flatter shrewdly," said the cap- 
 tain, with a fine bow. " And now tell me does 
 this paragon of loveliness love me in return? " 
 
 " With all her dear heart," said the woman. " In 
 parting and in sorrow her love does not fail." 
 
 As the captain turned away he managed to drop 
 the guinea into a basket of crusts and broken meats 
 which hung from his admirer's arm. 
 
 " Now, what the devil did she mean by that last," 
 he wondered. 
 
 On reaching Sir John's house, Captain Love 
 found two Dorset squires, who had followed Doro- 
 thy to town, already there, eying each other with 
 a growing hostility that took but small account of 
 all the past years of friendship. Dorothy was the 
 only member of the household at that moment in 
 the drawing-room. To her the captain advanced 
 eagerly, but with an air of shyness strangely at 
 variance with his reputation. He bowed low above 
 her hand. 
 
 " If you will allow me the honour," said he, and 
 gave her the thin volume in which he had been 
 reading with such absorption earlier in the day.
 
 148 Captain Love 
 
 He had carried it through the streets unwrapped, 
 pressed against his left side by his left elbow. 
 
 The lady opened the book without so much as 
 " by your leave " to the gentlemen. The captain 
 watched her anxiously, and the youths from Dorset 
 stared at nothing with absurdly injured expressions 
 on their ruddy faces. The title-page, which read 
 simply, " Songs of London. By R. L." caused the 
 girl to lift her clear eyes to Richard's face with a 
 glance at once so sympathetic and so shy that his 
 heart jumped insanely under his faultless coat. For 
 the young beauty was usually most careful in shad- 
 ing the lights in those bright windows of her soul. 
 
 Presently Sir John and Mrs. Paddington entered 
 the room. Dorothy, who by that time had read the 
 first poem twice over, darted from her seat and, 
 pausing at the captain's side, held out the volume 
 to her brother. 
 
 " A poet has given me his book," she said, smil- 
 ing radiantly. Courage and recklessness flamed in 
 the captain's breast. Could it be ? Then what mat- 
 tered his landless condition? What mattered his 
 lost past, his insecure present, his uncertain future? 
 The studied control of his emotions, so long sus- 
 tained, went the way of the wind.
 
 The Captain's Outbreak 149 
 
 " And his heart is in the book," he replied, softly 
 and with a desperate attempt at coolness. 
 
 Then Sir John, stepping forward briskly, took 
 the book from his sister's hand and smiled at his 
 friend. " I am not surprised, Dick, to find you a 
 poet," said he. " I have seen many suspicious- 
 looking sheets on your writing-table." 
 
 Richard flushed and bowed, and stole a sidelong 
 glance at the girl; but she had already turned her 
 face to Mr. Creighton, and her slim shoulder to 
 both the poet and his gift. Ah, he had been too 
 daring! And that sudden intimate unveiling of 
 her eyes had meant nothing. He had been a fool 
 to forget himself so and to forget all that the 
 ancients and moderns have written concerning the 
 whims and heartlessness of beautiful women. 
 
 Sir John's voice brought him back to a con- 
 sciousness of his surroundings. He started, and 
 stared confusedly at his friend. 
 
 " Oh, these poetic airs ! " exclaimed the baronet, 
 smiling kindly but at the same time treating him 
 to a searching glance. " Must they be acquired so 
 immediately upon the printing of one's verses? " 
 
 In a flash the captain was himself again, or, 
 to speak more truly, he was again that graceful and
 
 150 Captain Love 
 
 undismayed person that the world believed him to 
 be. 
 
 " They are of the greatest importance," he re- 
 plied. " My friends and the world shall thus know 
 me for a poet without troubling themselves with 
 the reading of my verses." 
 
 " I am sure," said Mrs. Paddington, gravely, 
 " that your verses will prove very pleasant read- 
 ing; but, my dear captain, I think I have never 
 before heard of a poet who was not also a lover." 
 
 " My dear Mary, how on earth do you know that 
 Dick is not one of the most desperate of lovers ? " 
 asked Sir John, with his eyes on the captain. 
 
 " I am sure we should have heard of it, he is 
 such a well-known figure in the town," replied the 
 young widow, innocently. 
 
 Richard glanced uneasily at the baronet. Then, 
 to Mrs. Paddington: 
 
 " A poet, for vanity's sake, often decks out his 
 muse so that she passes, in print, for a mistress of 
 flesh and blood," he said. " In truth, the poor devil 
 can seldom afford a passion more material, for 
 one's fitness to pay court to a fine lady is measured 
 by lands and gold rather than by affection and 
 rhymes."
 
 The Captain's Outbreak 151 
 
 Even Mrs. Paddington noticed the bitterness in 
 his voice. Sir John laughed and laid a hand on 
 his shoulder. 
 
 " Come, Dick, this is hopeless," he said. " The 
 elegant Captain Love must first discharge his serv- 
 ants, sell his wardrobe, ay, and change both his 
 skin and his manners, before he can hope to pass 
 for a gentleman of Grub Street. Even then I doubt 
 not his muse would find a rival of flesh and blood." 
 
 The captain looked steadily and earnestly into 
 his friend's face. Sir John returned the gaze as 
 gravely; and each saw that shadow which the 
 world had forgotten in the one case and did not 
 suspect in the other. Suddenly they felt the eyes 
 of Mr. Merton, one of the Dorset gentlemen, fixed 
 on them inquiringly. 
 
 " After all, Dick, it is Christmas Day. Let us 
 pledge it," said the baronet quietly. 
 
 They took Mr. Merton along with them to the 
 dining-hall. Mr. Creighton scarcely noticed their 
 departure. Petre filled the three glasses. 
 
 " Long life," said Mr. Merton, with all his atten- 
 tion on his glass. 
 
 " Faith," murmured the captain. 
 
 " Hope," said the baronet.
 
 152 Captain Love 
 
 The Dorset squire swallowed his liquor and won- 
 dered at his companions' toasts. 
 
 " You left out charity," said he. 
 
 " Then we'll try again," said their host. 
 
 Having pledged to charity, Mr. Merton hastened 
 back to look after Mr. Creighton with the air of 
 a man who has done part of his duty and would 
 shirk none of it. As soon as he was gone out of 
 the room, Petre turned to his friend. 
 
 " My dear boy," said he, " let me tell you, as 
 one who loves you as a brother and is old enough 
 to give advice, that no game is lost until death takes 
 a hand or shame puts out the lights." 
 
 The younger gentleman caught the other's hand 
 and stood close to him, strangely agitated. 
 
 " You know nothing of my past, John," he said. 
 
 " You have told me nothing of it," replied the 
 baronet. 
 
 " And yet and yet you trust me ? " 
 
 "As my own brother." 
 
 Then, ignoring a voice within him, the pretender 
 told the story of Nullwood Lower Farm, and the 
 story the farmer's daughter had told him. 
 
 The baronet was deeply moved; but moved by 
 pity rather than surprise.
 
 The Captain's Outbreak 153 
 
 " It was cruel," said he. " Ay, bitter cruel ; but 
 you have faced it like a man, Dick." 
 
 " Nay, I have not faced it," replied the other. 
 "I am a liar an impostor. Lord, think of it 
 
 a fine gentleman without a name ! " 
 
 " You have the name you bear, and which you 
 have made for yourself," said the baronet, kindly. 
 " Show me a more gallant or a better known in 
 London." Then, more deliberately, " The name 
 you have lost, through no fault of your own, is 
 yours as surely as Petre is mine. You were robbed. 
 The doors of your coach were carried away, so that 
 the sight of the arms upon them should not set the 
 whole country on the heels of the destroyers. Ah, 
 Dick, perhaps you do too much honour to the simple 
 baronet of Wellington." 
 
 " Forgive me, my friend, if I put you to a test," 
 returned the captain. " Whatever my real name, 
 
 great or small, it is lost, and my assumed 
 name may be torn from me at any moment. And 
 yet, Sir John, I have the presumption to love your 
 sister." 
 
 " My sister," cried Sir John, changing colour. 
 " Dorothy," replied the captain, with dry lips. 
 His eyes were steady, even proud, in their frank
 
 154 Captain Love 
 
 and challenging regard. The other's wavered and 
 fell. For a full minute they stood in silence at the 
 corner of the table in the great, bright room. 
 
 "Does she know of this of your love?" 
 asked the baronet at last. His voice was thin as a 
 whisper. 
 
 " My lips have told nothing and God knows 
 I have tried to keep a guard on my actions," was 
 the low reply. 
 
 " Do you think she feels any affection for you 
 other than that of friendship? " inquired the baro- 
 net, with his eyes still on the floor. 
 
 " I believe her heart is free as the wind," re- 
 plied the other. " Ay, and cold as the snow," he 
 added, bitterly. 
 
 At last Sir John looked at his friend, and both 
 tenderness and shame were visible in his face. 
 
 " Dick," he said, " this story of your misfortune 
 has increased my regard for you, for it has shown 
 me the true stuff of which your heart is made. I 
 had thought that you fought some battles of which 
 we knew nothing; and now, dear lad, I view with 
 astonishment the odds you have so bravely with- 
 stood. Say we are friends, Dick, better friends 
 than ever."
 
 The Captain's Outbreak 155 
 
 " You are the soul of generosity," cried the cap- 
 tain, huskily. 
 
 " Nay, I am a monster," replied the other. 
 " Call me a monster, Dick ! Call me a false friend ! 
 Your forgiveness but makes my duty the harder 
 for, Dick, I must ask you not to disclose the secret 
 of your heart to my little sister, until until your 
 affairs are more in order." 
 
 Richard leaned against the table. Passion, de- 
 spair and pride struggled in his face. 
 
 " Then you doubt my story? " he asked. 
 
 " I believe every word you have told me," re- 
 plied the other, " and, God knows, my heart aches 
 for you. But, lad, would you have me speed you 
 on a course that, mayhap, would bring years of 
 sorrow and disgrace to both you and Dorothy? 
 Consider your own fears for the stability of your 
 position. Would you have the woman you love 
 involved in the danger which threatens you ? " 
 
 " I am a fool," cried the captain, passionately, 
 " and you show amazing self-control in not kick- 
 ing me from your door." 
 
 The baronet gripped his arm and stared into his 
 face. 
 
 "Where is your courage?" he asked. "The
 
 156 Captain Love 
 
 woman you love is alive and happy. A year, a 
 month, even a short day may set your affairs above 
 any danger. And in the meantime you have 
 friends and distractions; ay, one friend, whose 
 sword, money and name are ever at your service, 
 and who believes you the truest heart in England. 
 Dick, there is not a man in the world to whom I 
 would give Dorothy more blithely than to you. 
 Ah, lad, is it so bitter a thing to keep so sweet a 
 secret in one's heart for a little while ? "
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 TROUBLE WITH CREIGHTON 
 
 MRS. PADDINGTON had never before found 
 Captain Love so gallant and so entertaining as on 
 that Christmas Day and evening. At first she won- 
 dered if John had plied him with overmuch wine 
 during their prolonged visit to the dining-room; 
 but, upon second thought, she put the suspicion 
 out of her head. His stories, at dinner, were quite 
 beyond anything she had ever heard. Even young 
 Mr. Creighton, whose humour was as stiff and 
 heavy as the clay of his own bean-fields, laughed 
 three times. As for the good Merton, his mirth 
 lasted through the entire meal. But Sir John and 
 Dorothy listened in wonder Sir John amazed at 
 a spirit that could so cover a wounded heart, and 
 the girl startled by an inner glow of pride or 
 was it love ? Was there another man in all London 
 like this captain who had given her his poems? 
 another so bright of eye, so quick of wit, so soft 
 of voice? As she listened, her cheeks glowed and 
 
 167
 
 158 Captain Love 
 
 her eyes matched his for brightness. But not once, 
 during the meal, did he look at her with more than 
 a fleeting glance. And that she could not under- 
 stand, for his statement concerning his heart and 
 his book had not escaped her. 
 
 More guests arrived before supper. Among 
 them was a Lady Anne Oliver, a sturdy, high- 
 coloured young woman, who was frankly partial 
 to Captain Love. Dorothy watched them in a spirit 
 new to her; and, for a wonder, there was some- 
 thing to watch. The captain was in a reckless 
 mood and determined to keep up the play of light- 
 heartedness at any cost to himself. So he accepted 
 Lady Anne's advances with an unusual warmth, 
 whispered in her ear, picked up her fan three times, 
 and sat beside her at supper. And Dorothy, watch- 
 ing covertly, whenever her numerous swains would 
 permit, wondered at the foolishness and fickleness 
 of Man. 
 
 And, all the time, poor Richard's soul was on the 
 rack. The conversation of the earl's daughter was 
 animated in manner rather than matter. Her eyes 
 were small, and attempted more than her Maker 
 had intended them to accomplish. And here was 
 the poet a being of blood and fire and woe 
 wringing his face to smiles and his tongue to subtil-
 
 Trouble with Creighton 159 
 
 ities, and the mistress of his madness in the same 
 room. The strain told on him, and by the time 
 supper was over he was in no mood to continue 
 the engagement. So at ten o'clock he went home 
 behind the big footman, and smoked a pipeful of 
 tobacco by the fire. Then, swearing that he was 
 weary of gaiety, weary of deceit, ay, weary of 
 life itself, he retired to bed. 
 
 The morning sunlight was gold between the cur- 
 tains of the windows when the captain awoke. For 
 several minutes he lay very still, trying to catch 
 and drag the essence of his dream into the common 
 day. His heart was glad and tender. Something 
 haunted him deliciously, and, even while slipping 
 from him, maintained its elusive potency. At last, 
 with a sigh of regret, he sat up and pulled aside the 
 curtains of his. bed. Still the sweet consciousness 
 of a dreamland intimacy was his, and though he 
 could recall not so much as the note of a voice or 
 the flash of a face, the magic clung to him like 
 the echoes of the laughter of a comrade who has 
 but just left one's room. But this thing was finer 
 and sweeter than laughter. 
 
 Old Tom was busy with lather and razor before 
 the shadows of the previous day returned to the 
 captain's mind. Even then he was not altogether
 
 160 Captain Love 
 
 free of the furtive and happy influence of the un- 
 remembered dream. Yet was it a dream ? he won- 
 dered. Might not some beautiful and gracious 
 spirit have communed with him in his sleep? Again 
 he closed his eyes and tried to drive his faculties 
 back that fleeting way to grasp the meaning of 
 that elusive delight ; but the thing was too fine, too 
 subtile, for capture, and the very effort of will, 
 designed to accomplish that end, dispelled it from 
 his mind. 
 
 The captain was early at Babcock's that day, a 
 trifle paler than usual but spick-and-span as ever. 
 He went up-stairs immediately and found Mr. 
 Creighton anxious to play at any game likely to 
 prove diverting to the mind. The Dorset squire 
 had not sat long before he discovered that the cards 
 diverted his money even more than his mind. He 
 emptied his pockets with an ungenerous oath. 
 Love immediately laid down the cards. 
 
 " Do you wish to stop ? " he asked. 
 
 " Damn it," replied Mr. Creighton, " I'm not 
 afraid of the play. Creighton of Creighton Riding 
 can afford to sit at cards with any with any poet 
 in town." 
 
 Ah, so there was where the shoe pinched. The 
 captain did not smile at the other's crudity. He put
 
 Trouble with Creighton 161 
 
 his winnings back on the table and rose from his 
 chair. 
 
 " What d'ye mean by that ? " cried the gentle- 
 man from Dorset. 
 
 " It was my mistake. Take your money," said 
 Love, softly. 
 
 " By Gad ! " cried the other. " D'ye know who 
 you are speaking to? I'll not take your money, 
 Master Rhymster." 
 
 The captain's thin young face flushed darkly. He 
 turned to a waiter who stood at his elbow with a 
 tray in his hands containing two glasses of wine. 
 
 " Here's something for you," said he, and poured 
 the handful of gold on to the tray. Then he lifted 
 one of the glasses, drained it and set it down. He 
 was turning away from the equally astonished gen- 
 tleman and servant when the former clutched the 
 skirt of his coat from where he still sat in his 
 chair. 
 
 " Not so fast, Captain Love," he said, his voice 
 thick with rage. " Things are not done thus in 
 Dorset." 
 
 The captain calmly disengaged the fingers from 
 his coat. 
 
 "And how are they done in Dorset?" he in- 
 quired.
 
 162 Captain Love 
 
 " If you will name me a friend," replied Creigh- 
 ton, " Sir Charles Dart will call upon him ; and I am 
 sure you will be fully informed on the matter." 
 
 The captain bowed and glanced about the room. 
 He caught sight of Hyde, who sat at another table. 
 
 " I am sure Mr. Hyde will serve my purpose," 
 he said. " It would be a pity to trouble any one 
 of more pressing affairs with so small a matter." 
 
 He stepped over and asked Hyde to do him the 
 favour of looking after his interests in the threatened 
 encounter with Mr. Creighton. The authority on 
 pedigrees was only too pleased to connect himself 
 with so fashionable an affair; and shook the cap- 
 tain's hand and called for wine with marked demon- 
 strations of friendship. 
 
 " Make your mind easy," said he. " I'll see that 
 you get the fairest chance in the world to remove 
 that clodhopper from your path." 
 
 Love did not like the implication contained in Mr. 
 Hyde's speech. It awoke in him a sudden, sicken- 
 ing wonder at his state of mind of the previous 
 evening. What cared he for rivals unless it were 
 for some rival in his dreams? Creighton or Mer- 
 ton ? let him have his way, and welcome. 
 
 " I assure you he is not in my way, but he needs
 
 Trouble with Creighton 163 
 
 enlightenment on a small question of breeding," he 
 said. 
 
 Mr. Hyde winked at his wine. He was far too 
 wise to swallow any such story as that; for well he 
 realized the charms of Dorothy Petre. 
 
 Captain Love went home and brooded over the 
 dainties of life. He read some of the verses from 
 the little book (which, by this time, had made a 
 considerable stir among the fashionables) and found 
 them flavourless. He wrote a letter to his dear friend 
 Sir John a very pathetic and beautiful produc- 
 tion and then committed it to the flames. He 
 wondered how Dorothy would feel if he were shot 
 or run through in the duel ; and again, how such a 
 fate to Mr. Creighton would affect her. He strove 
 to call up the lady's image to his mind's eye; and, 
 succeeding, he viewed it with indifference. 
 
 " What am I ? " he cried, in distress. " Nameless ! 
 f olkless ! hot and cold in love ! Dear Lord, I am not 
 fit to be alive ! A night and I am changed ! A 
 dream and my heart is turned about ! " 
 
 Whereupon he fell to wondering if ever, in his 
 lost past, he had faced a fellow-being in any such an 
 encounter as now threatened him. His reverie was 
 broken by the light knock and hasty entrance of Sir
 
 164 Captain Love 
 
 John Petre. With a sigh of mingled relief and 
 shame, he arose from his chair and grasped his 
 friend's hand. The baronet returned the greeting 
 kindly but with a palpable air of discomfort. " I 
 have been at Babcock's," said he, " and the place is 
 full of talk of a disagreement between yourself and 
 Creighton." 
 
 The captain bowed in acknowledgment. 
 
 " I was pained to hear it, Dick," continued Sir 
 John. " I had thought that the matter was dropped 
 for the present in fact, if my memory serves me, 
 I had your word to that effect and now I find 
 you at open warfare with the gentleman from Dor- 
 set." 
 
 The captain flushed under his friend's words and 
 glance. 
 
 " I do not pretend to misunderstand you," he re- 
 plied, " but I take exception to your view of my 
 actions. If I gave you my word concerning a cer- 
 tain matter, then rest assured that I shall keep it. 
 My trouble with Creighton is due to his damned ill- 
 breeding, also, it is of his own picking, and if 
 he were the dean of a cathedral I'd not deny him the 
 satisfaction of a meeting." 
 
 " Do you mean that the quarrel was without pre- 
 meditation on your part? " asked the baronet.
 
 Trouble with Creighton 165 
 
 " Yes," said the captain. 
 
 " And that you follow it with no other motive 
 save that of redressing an insult? " 
 
 " Yes," said the captain, again. 
 
 Sir John took a turn or two up and down the 
 room. The other watched him with cool eyes; but 
 his cheeks tingled and his lips were dry. 
 
 " Dick," said the baronet, halting before him, 
 " this affair will cause a deal of unpleasant com- 
 ment. 'Twill put an innocent girl in a very un- 
 favourable light before the public; not to speak of 
 her suffering if either of you fall in the encounter." 
 
 " I think you are unreasonable in thus persisting 
 that the lady you refer to is concerned in the mat- 
 ter," replied the captain. " It is not as a rival," he 
 continued, " but as a gentleman grossly insulted, 
 that I am engaged to treat with Mr. Creighton." 
 
 Sir John bowed gravely, very pale and with set 
 jaw, and strode from the room. The captain paced 
 up and down, in bitter reflection. 
 
 " There goes my friend," he cried, and slapped 
 his hands together with an oath. Though con- 
 vinced that his feeling towards the baronet's sister 
 had nothing to do with his share of the quarrel, he 
 could not blink the fact that her shy and beautiful 
 face, working through Creighton's jealousy, was at
 
 166 Captain Love 
 
 the heart of the trouble. A desperate sort of anger 
 awoke in him. He remembered stories of Doro- 
 thy's coquetry unpleasant stories that had come 
 to him in shreds, from no particular source. But 
 those were of Dorset and of the few months of her 
 residence in London before his time. But here, 
 under his very eyes, were Merton and Creighton 
 kept dangling, undismissed and wasting their time 
 and money. A day ago she had been lovely enough 
 to die for lovely enough to kill a man for ! But 
 now he wondered that Creighton could be such a 
 fool and still more bitterly he wondered that he 
 himself had been such a fool. He flung himself into 
 his great chair and covered his face with his hands. 
 He was aroused by Mr. Hyde prodding him in the 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Cheer up," cried the visitor, " for you're not 
 dead yet!" 
 
 Love sprang to his feet and displayed so hag- 
 gard a visage to Hyde's startled eyes that the jovial 
 second retreated with a skip. 
 
 " Dead ! " he cried. " I would to Heaven I were 
 dead and buried ! " 
 
 But he was the first to recover self-control. 
 Laughing faintly, he pushed a chair against his 
 friend's legs as an invitation to be seated.
 
 Trouble with Creighton 167 
 
 " Do not imagine that I fear either lead or steel," 
 he said. 
 
 Mr. Hyde rubbed his shins and accepted the prof- 
 fered seat 
 
 " Maybe it is your first affair of the kind," he 
 remarked, not unkindly. " And if so, why, 'tis no 
 wonder you feel a trifle upset." 
 
 " First or last," replied the captain, " I am no 
 more moved by the thought of what Mr. Creighton 
 may do to me than if he were an old woman with 
 a broom-stick. If I go under the sod why, 
 there'll be an end to the expense of maintaining an 
 establishment, and the last page of a foolish chapter 
 turned over. If I live ah, there'll be less satisfac- 
 tion in that, I must admit, though I've not a doubt 
 but that some one in Dorset will be the richer for 
 it." 
 
 " Come, come," exclaimed the other, uneasily, 
 " you must not talk like a rascally actor on the 
 boards. Dart and I have decided for the little meet- 
 ing. I met Sir John Petre a few minutes ago and 
 told him of it. He was good enough to say that 
 I displayed my usual excellent taste in the choice." 
 
 " Petre is firm against it," said the captain. " And 
 'tis that which troubles me for he's been a good 
 friend to me a friend far beyond my deserts.
 
 168 Captain Love 
 
 But the affair must go on, though it part me from 
 every friend in the world, unless Creighton gets 
 down on his knees and begs my pardon. I may 
 be landless ; but I'll swallow no man's insult." 
 
 "If the lady should ask you not to fight? " in- 
 quired Hyde. 
 
 " She has nothing to do with it," replied the cap- 
 tain. " I judge for myself in these matters. No 
 woman is concerned in my affairs."
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 IN THE DARK 
 
 DAWN was but a gray, cheerless thinning of 
 gloom along the eastern horizon when Captain Love 
 and Mr. Hyde stepped into the closed carriage 
 which was to take them to a secluded spot of Mr. 
 Hyde's selection. Love folded his cloak about him, 
 for the air was bitterly cold, and closed his eyes. 
 Shreds of slumber clung to his brain despite the 
 exciting and desperate venture on which he was 
 bound. Hardly realizing the peril awaiting him, 
 he grumbled at the jolting of the carriage and 
 looked back on his warm bed with peevish regret. 
 Mr. Hyde, seated with a case of pistols on his 
 knees, was deeply impressed by the other's attitude. 
 
 " You are surely a cool hand," said he. " And 
 I'll make so bold as to venture the assertion that 
 this is not your first affair of the kind." 
 
 " If I have fought other duels," replied the cap- 
 tain, fretfully but with truth, " I've clean forgot 
 them." 
 
 160
 
 170 Captain Love 
 
 " That's pushing the heroic attitude a trifle too 
 far to be convincing," said Hyde. " A man must 
 be either a fool or an immortal to let such matters 
 slip his memory." 
 
 " Call me what you please," murmured the cap- 
 tain ; " but an you love me, take the corner of that 
 damn box out of my ribs." 
 
 By this time the carriage was out of town, rat- 
 tling 1 and jolting along over ruts of frozen mud. 
 The gray light pressed against the windows like a 
 fluid. The breaths of the gentlemen congealed in 
 frosty vapour on the air. The captain drew his 
 cloak more snugly around him:. Mr. Hyde nursed 
 the great box on his knee, in which lay the silver- 
 mounted instruments of death, and cursed softly at 
 the weather and his friend's unresponsive mood. 
 The carriage stopped softly, as if at its appointed 
 destination, the doors were snatched open on either 
 side and masked men hurled themselves upon the 
 unready gentlemen within. 
 
 The struggle was brief. The captain's arms 
 were still in the folds of his cloak when he was 
 overpowered, gagged, blindfolded and bound. The 
 only resistance he was able to make a vicious kick 
 had affected no one but the innocent Hyde, and 
 had so suddenly deprived that indignant gentleman
 
 In the Dark 171 
 
 of his breath that he was captured without so much 
 as the utterance of a protest. 
 
 Captain Love felt strong hands prop him, with- 
 out violence, in the seat from which he had been 
 so unceremoniously hurled. A strong shoulder 
 pressed him on either side. Again the carriage was 
 set in motion, and for a few minutes rolled smartly 
 forward. Though the captain could neither see nor 
 hear, he was able to follow something of what was 
 taking place by the sense of feeling. He sat very 
 quiet (what else could he do, with his wrists tied 
 behind his back and his ankles crossed) and strug- 
 gled with his scattered wits. He had been handled 
 softly, though surely. Not a shot had been fired. 
 He had not received so much as a blow from a 
 pistol-butt. What by all that was miraculous did it 
 mean? It could not be of Buckley's planning, or 
 he'd have received no such gentle treatment. 
 
 Suddenly the carriage came to a standstill with a 
 violent jolt, and Captain Love felt himself being 
 lifted from the seat, and carried a short distance. 
 He could hear nothing, so ponderous was the cloth 
 that had been tied around his head to blindfold 
 him. But his nose was clear. He caught the odour 
 of tobacco smoke and gin-toddy. Then he was 
 w laid gently on a bed, the gag was removed from
 
 172 Captain Love 
 
 his jaws, and food and drink were forced on him by 
 an unseen hand. At first he resisted these atten- 
 tions; but soon realizing that if his captors wished 
 to put an end to him they need not go to the trouble 
 of poisoning his liquor, and feeling honestly hungry, 
 he swallowed all that was put to his lips. Feeling 
 much better for the strange repast (though he was 
 no great admirer of the Holland drink), he asked 
 to be set up a little higher against the pillows and 
 to have his hands tied in front instead of behind. 
 Being obliged in both requests, he took heart. 
 
 " I have ten pounds in my pocket," said he, " and 
 will pledge myself to the payment of twenty more, 
 without question, if you will but free me and set 
 me on the road to Dipper's Common. I have an 
 engagement an affair of honour and my repu- 
 tation is gone if you delay me a minute longer." 
 
 He felt the fumbling of hands behind his head 
 and straightway the bandage was pushed clear of 
 his ears. 
 
 " Don't worry about your engagement, my lord," 
 said a gruff voice, " for t'other gentleman be in a 
 like plight." 
 
 He expressed his relief at the news, and his won- 
 der at the meaning of the whole affair. Highway-
 
 In the Dark 173 
 
 men, as he knew to his sorrow, were not always 
 so considerate in the treatment of their victims. 
 
 " Then what d'ye want of me, if not the money ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 He heard the murmurings of a stealthy conversa- 
 tion, and presently the same gruff voice replied that 
 the money was the thing, after all. Immediately a 
 hand went through his pockets and relieved him of 
 the ten pounds and his big, gold repeater. 
 
 For many hours the captain continued to recline 
 on a bed that he could not see, and to carry on a 
 fragmentary conversation with his invisible jailors. 
 He took refreshment from their hands more than 
 once, for his own remained bound in his lap. He 
 even smoked a pipe-full of tobacco while one of the 
 hidden robbers held the bowl. 
 
 " I tell you frankly," said he, " that I mistrust 
 this affair entirely and lay it to the credit of some 
 personal grudge rather than a desire for spoils on 
 the part of any ordinary thief and murderer of the 
 road. I make no doubt but 'tis the boasted Dorset 
 manner of giving and receiving satisfaction and 
 a damn safe one, too." 
 
 An uneasy silence followed this frank statement 
 of suspicion. It lasted until some one clattered on
 
 174 Captain Love 
 
 a door with a cudgel; then the captain was again 
 gagged and deafened, lifted from the bed and 
 thrust into a carriage. He made not the slightest 
 movement of resistance ; but inside his passive body 
 he nursed his wrath against Mr. Creighton, hav- 
 ing decided that the Dorset squire was, beyond 
 question, the instigator of the cowardly business. 
 He vowed in his heart that blood alone should wipe 
 this indignity from his conscience that even his 
 dearest friend would not play such a boorish game 
 upon him with impunity and at that thought Sir 
 John Petre, as he had last seen him, flashed into his 
 mind. Could it be, he wondered, that the baronet 
 had a hand in this postponement of the duel? He 
 recalled, with agitation, his friend's anxiety to stop 
 the affair and his evident displeasure at the failure 
 of the argument he had advanced to that end. He 
 set his teeth on the gag in his mouth. The rage of 
 humiliation shook him like a chill of fever. Name- 
 less he might be nameless and landless, and with 
 only the gaming-tables between himself and starva- 
 tion but such treatment he would not receive sub- 
 missively from any man under the canopy of God's 
 heaven. 
 
 At last the carriage came to a standstill, a door 
 was opened, and strong arms again lifted and car-
 
 In the Dark 175 
 
 ried the helpless captain. Hands had him by the 
 shoulders and the feet. He marked the slow ascen- 
 sion of a flight of stairs, and again felt himself de- 
 posited on a bed but this time a bed of fragrant 
 linen sheets and yielding mattresses. 
 
 For several minutes the captain lay quiet, at full 
 length, glad to be out of the jolting carriage and 
 raw air. He was desperately sleepy; but it would 
 never do for him to give up without some further 
 effort towards winning his freedom. Though he 
 no longer entertained any fears of violence, he felt 
 that the sooner an end was put to his equivocal posi- 
 tion the better for his dignity. He raised his im- 
 prisoned hands above him and openly pulled wrist 
 against wrist. As this demonstration passed with- 
 out protest, he decided that he was alone. So he 
 strained again at the bindings, and, to his intense 
 satisfaction, soon got free of them. In a second the 
 bandage was snatched from his eyes and ears, and 
 the gag of linen from his weary jaws. Then, be- 
 fore attending to his feet, he sat up and looked about 
 him, fully expecting that the cowardly joke had 
 ended in his own room. But a glance discovered 
 to him his mistake and added bewilderment to his 
 anger. The room upon which he looked out 
 through a slit in the bed-curtains was as large and
 
 176 Captain Love 
 
 as comfortable as his own, but it was not his own. 
 A fire burned low on a wide hearth, and the pulsing 
 light touched here and there on gilt and silver. He 
 stared about him, with the most anxious scrutiny, 
 and listened for some sound of life with an intensity 
 that seemed to strain his ears. But he was re- 
 warded by neither a sight nor a sound to denote the 
 presence of any occupant, save himself, of the 
 strange and shadowy room. 
 
 After a minute spent in nervous contemplation of 
 his surroundings, the captain hastily unfastened the 
 cord from his ankles and slipped noiselessly to the 
 floor. At the same moment something slid from 
 the coverlet and struck his foot. He recovered 
 promptly from the shock, for he was not a coward, 
 and, stooping, put his hand on his own gold repeater. 
 
 " Honest robbers," he muttered. 
 
 He turned to the bed and felt up and down the 
 sheets until the ten pounds which those remarkable 
 robbers had divested him of were collected under his 
 fingers. He slipped them into a pocket without loss 
 of time, and tiptoed cautiously from the room. The 
 passage without was in darkness, but a lanthorn, 
 burning in the hall below, sent a faint glimmer half- 
 way up the staircase. The captain could hear no 
 sound save the furtive whistling of his own breath
 
 In the Dark 177 
 
 and the dull flutter of his own heart. With a glance 
 over his shoulder, he set his hand to the rail and 
 fled down the polished stairs. The doors were un- 
 fastened, and gave to his hand. In another second 
 he was in the middle of the street, running west- 
 ward as if the devil were at his heels. 
 
 At last, after futile wanderings, the captain 
 reached the narrow portal of his own house. The 
 whole city seemed to be either dead or sunk in 
 slumber, and sky and pavements alike were black 
 as the muzzle of a cannon. The captain shoved 
 noiselessly at his door. To his surprise he found 
 it unlocked. He entered on tiptoe and ascended the 
 stairs without a stumble. In his bedroom the fire 
 was out. He struck a light and soon had the candles 
 on the mantel palely aflame. Taking one in his 
 hand, he stepped over to see that his bed was ready 
 for the night. He pulled back the crimson curtains 
 and there, gagged and bound and with a brace of 
 pistols on his chest, lay Mr. Creighton of Dorset.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE DAY AFTER 
 
 CAPTAIN LOVE freed his rival in short order. 
 They faced each other with flashing eyes and set 
 jaws. 
 
 "What in is the meaning of this?" cried 
 
 the captain. 
 
 " By , do you dare ask me that? " stuttered 
 
 Creighton, his tongue dry with wrath. 
 
 " Coward," cried the other, who was past rea- 
 son. " Is this the way affairs of honour are set- 
 tled in Dorset?" 
 
 Creighton stared blankly. 
 
 " You chicken-hearted rascal," said he, at last, 
 " one would think that it was you who had been 
 gagged and bound and trundled over the country, 
 to hear you talk." 
 
 " You fool, and who else was it? " cried Love 
 then, in a flash of common sense, he realized that 
 he had, but a moment past, relieved his rival from 
 the same predicament from which he had so lately 
 helped himself. 
 
 178
 
 The Day After 179 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he hastened to say, and 
 briefly related his own adventures. 
 
 Mr. Creighton, looking vastly pale and shaken 
 in the candle-light, lowered his feet to the floor and 
 extended his hand. 
 
 " We've been made fools of," said he, " and by 
 an intimate, I'll swear. But the thing was bungled 
 at the end of it, and here I am in your house and 
 you, no doubt, were in mine." 
 
 The captain, who had the hand of his enemy in 
 his, led him over to a chair. His heart was soft- 
 ened to the gentleman from the south. He pro- 
 duced wine, and they drank together with the sin- 
 cerest expressions of friendship. The common in- 
 dignity had wiped out the hostility and the insults ; 
 and not once, while they bemoaned the misadven- 
 tures of the day and cursed the unknown kidnap- 
 pers, did the absurdity of their present position 
 occur to them. Here they were, knee to knee and 
 glass to glass, pledging each the other in the loyalest 
 terms and vowing to unearth and bring to confu- 
 sion the rogue who had kept them from engaging 
 together in mortal combat. 
 
 " And the dirty rag they thrust between my 
 jaws," moaned Creighton, and straightway swal-
 
 ISO Captain Love 
 
 lowed more port as if to wash the taste of it from 
 his mouth. 
 
 Captain Love would not let his late enemy go 
 home at that uncomfortable hour. He gave him his 
 own bed and retired, himself, to a couch in the 
 sitting-room. In the morning the captain's servant 
 shaved them both, and they breakfasted together 
 most amiably. As soon as the man was out of the 
 room they once more threshed out the incidents of 
 the preceding day. Now the matter seemed even 
 more outrageous and bewildering than it had the 
 night before. Could it be that Mr. Hyde and Sir 
 Charles Dart were at the bottom of it? Captain 
 Love felt certain of Hyde's innocence, remembering, 
 with a quick smile, that gentleman's anxiety to have 
 the fight take place decently and in order. But he 
 did not feel so sure of Sir Charles ; and Creighton, 
 for his part, did not consider Mr. Hyde to be above 
 suspicion. They argued the matter in the most 
 friendly spirit and even while they argued the 
 young footman opened the door, and Mr. Hyde 
 stepped in. 
 
 " Well, by gad," exclaimed Mr. Hyde, staring 
 with open amazement at the domestic scene before 
 him. The break f asters returned his gaze with no
 
 The Day After 181 
 
 lack of interest. His clothing, usually so faultless, 
 was rumpled and pulled aslant. His wig was all 
 awry and he carried neither sword nor walking- 
 cane. His face was pale and unshaven, and above 
 his left eyebrow shone a red and purple lump. 
 Perhaps never before had the master of pedigrees 
 paid a morning call in so sorry a plight. 
 
 " And have you, too, been trussed and blind- 
 folded ? " inquired the captain, advancing to wel- 
 come his dishevelled friend. 
 
 Mr. Hyde sputtered an oath and looked at Mr. 
 Creighton under drooping lids. 
 
 " You may speak freely," continued Love, " for 
 Creighton and I, you may be sure, shall listen with 
 sympathy." 
 
 " Do you mean," cried the visitor, " that Mr. 
 Creighton also has been dragged from pillar to post, 
 deaf and dumb and blind, and at last tumbled into 
 his bed to afford disrespectful amusement to his own 
 servants." 
 
 The captain laughed. 
 
 " Mr. Creighton was tumbled into my bed," he 
 replied, " and I into his. Otherwise, the treatment 
 was the same." 
 
 Mr. Hyde sat down at that, evidently somewhat
 
 182 Captain Love 
 
 mollified to hear that the outrage had not been 
 practised on him alone. He even accepted a slice 
 of cold beef and a pot of ale. 
 
 " I don't understand it," he said, and looked in- 
 quiringly at Creighton. 
 
 The Dorset squire shook his head and reached for 
 the tankard. 
 
 " No more do I," said he, and went on with his 
 eating. 
 
 He was not one to let a mystery spoil his appetite. 
 
 " It seems as if they handled you more roughly 
 than they did either of us," remarked the captain. 
 
 Hyde put his finger very tenderly on the lump 
 above his eye. 
 
 " 'Twas the corner of the pistol-box," he said. 
 
 " The d thing was on my knees, and when the 
 
 fight began I tried to defend myself with my feet, 
 and so hove it up against my head." 
 
 Creighton chuckled at that, though his mouth 
 was full; but as Hyde shot an indignant glance at 
 him he hastened to mumble that, for his own part, 
 he'd gone under like a lamb. 
 
 " I was as helpless as this round of beef," he 
 added, and took up the carver to replenish his 
 plate. 
 
 Later in the day the three indignant gentlemen
 
 The Day After 183 
 
 Mr. Hyde had repaired his toilet set out for the 
 house of Sir Charles Dart, to inquire if the Wilt- 
 shire baronet had suffered at the hands of the kid- 
 nappers. But Sir Charles had started for the coun- 
 try early that morning, and had left neither his ad- 
 dress nor information concerning the date of his 
 return, with his butler. Creighton fumbled his cane 
 and, with an embarrassed glance at the captain, sug- 
 gested a call on Sir John Petre. 
 
 " By all means," replied Love, heartily then, 
 catching Hyde's eye, his face hardened. He looked 
 from one to the other, and laid a hand on Creigh- 
 ton's wrist. 
 
 " What mean you ? " he asked ; but Creighton 
 only shook his head and took snuff. 
 
 Mr. Hyde was more at his ease. 
 
 " My dear friend," said he, " you told me that 
 Sir John was against a certain little affair in which 
 we three, a short time ago, were all more or less 
 interested. A thought has come to me a mere 
 shadow of a thought." 
 
 " I don't believe it," exclaimed the captain, 
 vehemently. " Petre would be the last man to med- 
 dle so between gentlemen." 
 
 Hyde turned to Creighton. 
 
 " Did our mutual friend Sir John Petre try to
 
 184 Captain Love 
 
 dissuade you from from the little affair I just 
 mentioned ? " he asked. 
 
 " Ay, there's no use my denying it," replied 
 Creighton, guiltily. " Gad, he was stubborn as a 
 hog about it." 
 
 " He would hardly go to such lengths," cried the 
 captain. " Why, we're all his friends ! Nay, he'd 
 never carry his whim so far a man of the world 
 like Sir John. Come, we shall step into Babcock's 
 and wash this unworthy suspicion from our hearts." 
 
 " Nay, captain," said Creighton, heavily. " I, for 
 one, will step around to Sir John Petre's. By gad, 
 now that the thing's in my mind, it itches me like a 
 flea. We don't mismanage our friend's affairs of 
 honour so in Dorset." 
 
 The captain hung back. He had a great fear in 
 his heart that the outrage might be traced to the 
 door of his best friend. If so, could even he excuse 
 him? 
 
 " Petre is a Dorset man," he said, " so you may 
 be sure he had no hand in that low and treacherous 
 villainy." 
 
 " Under the circumstances," began Creighton, 
 and blew his nose on a yellow handkerchief, like a 
 farmer at a fair. 
 
 " Exactly," said Hyde. " Circumstances play the
 
 The Day After 185 
 
 very devil with the best of us. Captain, if you will 
 be so good as to await us at Babcock's, Mr. Creigh- 
 ton and I, with the nicest circumspection, will look 
 into this matter. I assure you it is our duty, as 
 gentlemen, to do so. Honour will suffer, other- 
 wise." 
 
 Captain Love seated himself in the lower room of 
 that renowned place of entertainment. The wine he 
 drank might have been water, for all the pleasure it 
 gave him. What if this suspicion of Creigh ton's 
 and Hyde's should prove true? The baronet had 
 befriended him in a strange city ; and was this good 
 friendship to be sacrificed to a thing called honour 
 a thing of passion and blood, paraded by every 
 swaggering bully in town ? And what was he, who 
 was not even sure that the name he bore was his 
 own, to make such a disturbance in the name of 
 honour? If Petre were responsible for the affair of 
 the day before, then it was all for the sake of his 
 sister. So, if he was forced to bring his friend to 
 account, then the blame was hers. Ay, for all her 
 shy glances and blushing cheeks, the blame was hers. 
 It was for love of her that the Dorset squire had 
 picked the quarrel; and (if Hyde's guess should 
 prove correct) it was to shield her name that the 
 meeting had been so ridiculously perverted. He
 
 186 Captain Love 
 
 was conscious of a swift, sneering anger toward the 
 beautiful girl. 
 
 " Oh, Lord," cried the spirit within him, " the 
 whole world shifts under my fingers. Nothing is 
 steadfast, nothing sure. Even the unreasonable, 
 fine madness of love slips from me, though I 
 masquerade under the very name of it. But a few 
 days ago my heart was afire with a sweet and 
 foolish courage; windmills must have tumbled be- 
 fore my onset ; and now only my brain is alive and I 
 suffer the most rascally treatment with no more 
 heroic feelings than those of bitterness and regret. 
 I face the affairs of day with my heart and brain 
 befuddled with wisps of dream." 
 
 He called for more liquor, drank it eagerly, and 
 sat for half an hour in an agony of doubt. His 
 position seemed a mockery, and London a pit of 
 torment. He forgot his luck at play, his book of 
 verses and his unsurpassed wardrobes. He could 
 only see himself as a loveless, landless and nameless 
 vagrant on the verge of a quarrel with the one 
 friend of his heart. 
 
 The captain's bitter reverie was disturbed by the 
 entrance of Hyde and Creighton. A glance at their 
 faces confirmed his worst fears. They approached
 
 The Day After 187 
 
 the table at which he sat, and leaned to him across 
 it. 
 
 " Sir John Petre is out of town," whispered 
 Creighton. 
 
 " They believe he has gone to his place in Dor- 
 set," said Hyde, " and they do not know when he 
 intends to return." 
 
 " You did not see Sir John ? " queried the cap- 
 tain, aghast. 
 
 Creighton laughed shortly and harshly and 
 slammed his great palm on the table. 
 
 " He's gone," said he. " Run to earth. Damme, 
 but I've half a mind to spur after him an' hunt him 
 out of Dorset myself. If he thinks he can play such 
 tricks on a Creighton, by h , he's mistaken ! " 
 
 Hyde nodded. " I'm a man of peace, myself," 
 he said " but but this is hard to swallow." 
 
 Love got to his feet unsteadily, like one far gone 
 in wine. His young face was white as death and 
 he brushed his hand across his forehead. 
 
 " I must go home," he said, and passed 'round 
 the table and through the doorway. 
 
 Creighton looked at Hyde. 
 
 " The young cock's put about," he remarked. 
 " He's lost interest in the hunt, I'll swear, now that 
 we're away on the true scent."
 
 188 Captain Love 
 
 " The circumstances are unusual," replied Mr. 
 Hyde, with a keen glance at the other. 
 
 " Damn the circumstances," cried Mr. Creighton. 
 And then, in a lower tone, " I'm done with the breed, 
 sir, and they couldn't call me back if they went on 
 their bended knees. A baronet he may be an' his 
 father before him but the Creightons were what 
 they are now when a Petre twanged a bow-string." 
 
 Mr. Hyde felt that his friend from Dorset was 
 here encroaching on his own particular field. 
 
 " They've been gentlemen since the eleventh cen- 
 tury," he. said; " and, to tell you the truth, if I were 
 in the running for a certain lady's hand, I'd not let 
 a little matter of family pride turn me from the 
 contest." 
 
 His tone was very dry though, Heaven knows, 
 his throat was wet enough. Being of a flighty 
 nature, he was already tiring of the abortive duel 
 and everything connected with it. 
 
 Creighton stared at him hotly, but with a touch of 
 uneasiness. He never felt quite sure of this bland 
 townsman. 
 
 " Could it be managed, and a gentleman still keep 
 his honour clean? " he asked. 
 
 Mr. Hyde laughed softly and leaned back in his 
 seat.
 
 The Day After 189 
 
 " I'll tell you this much, sir," he replied. " If you 
 call Sir Charles to account and Captain Love calls 
 Sir John, I'll engage the lady and she, no doubt, 
 is the most dangerous of the trio."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 THE CAPTAIN'S TEMPTATION 
 
 NEWS of the absurd termination of the affair be- 
 tween Captain Love and Mr. Creighton went 'round 
 the town on every wind. Mr. Merton, that other 
 Dorset squire who had followed Dorothy Petre to 
 town, was in high feather over the matter. Here 
 were both the rivals in a very laughable situation 
 from the world's point of view, and (from what 
 he heard) both desiring the blood of Sir John 
 Petre in return for the indignity they had suffered. 
 Though dull of wit, he was shrewd enough to 
 realize that now was the time for him to winnow 
 his own grain from the chaff of his rivals' misfor- 
 tunes. So, attired in his best coat and wig, with a 
 new small-sword at his hip, he called on Mrs. Pad- 
 dington and Dorothy. Upon finding them both at 
 home and in a flutter of excitement, he rubbed his 
 great hands together and loosed his tongue. 
 
 " 'Twas the most ridiculous affair," he said. 
 " Here were our valiant fighting men, each in his 
 
 190
 
 The Captain's Temptation 191 
 
 carriage, each with his distinguished friend beside 
 him, rolling courageously to the scene of action. 
 Mr. Hyde, ye'll understand, was sittin' innocent as 
 a lamb, beside the captain, with Lord Playfair's 
 rules of duelling in his pocket an' a box of pistols 
 in his lap. In t'other coach Creighton was countin' 
 the men he'd shot, on his fingers, and Charles Dart 
 was grinnin' to himself. Well, presently the cap- 
 tain's coach drew up, the doors flew open an' in 
 popped the masked highwaymen. The captain was 
 caught like a mouse in a cornbag, but Hyde kicked 
 one of the kidnappers in the middle afore he was 
 tied securely. In t'other carriage, when the doors 
 were pulled open, Sir Charles gives a yell of ' Foot- 
 pads, by God,' and then, bawlin' all the time that 
 he's fightin' like a hero, helps them put the ropes 
 around Mr. Creighton." 
 
 " A most dishonourable affair," said Mrs. Pad- 
 dington. " For my part, I feel that it would have 
 been better to let the gentlemen shoot at one another. 
 The late Mr. Paddington, I am sure, would never 
 have countenanced such proceedings." 
 
 For a moment Merton was confused by this un- 
 expected protest. He looked, in confusion, at the 
 widow's flushed face. 
 
 " But, my dear madam," he cried, " it was a mat-
 
 192 Captain Love 
 
 ter of duty, I do assure you. I'd have done the same 
 myself, to protect the innocent name of a lady of 
 my family." 
 
 " My dear sir," replied Mrs. Paddington, " three 
 duels were fought over me, and I was none the 
 worse and neither were the gentlemen, for that 
 matter." 
 
 Mr. Merton turned his gaze upon Dorothy. That 
 young lady was seated with bent head and flushed 
 cheeks, the picture of girlish embarrassment. Sud- 
 denly she raised her eyes shyly to her admirer's. 
 
 " Why did the gentlemen wish to quarrel ? " she 
 asked, and again averted her face. 
 
 " Ah," replied Merton, with a bow, " you must 
 ask your mirror that question." 
 
 " Fie, sir ! " exclaimed Mrs. Paddington. " Do 
 you mean to turn the child's head ? " 
 
 Poor Merton looked sincerely disconcerted at 
 that, and blushed as vividly as did Dorothy herself. 
 Lord, thought the simple fellow, if I could but 
 turn both her heart and her head. He looked ap- 
 pealingly at the widow and blundered along with 
 his story. 
 
 " The three men of blood," he continued, " were 
 kept in the one cottage all day, each in a separate 
 room. They gave up their watches and their money
 
 The Captain's Temptation 193 
 
 which, of course, were returned to them with- 
 out a word. They were terrified, I assure you 
 especially the captain and Mr. Creighton but they 
 managed to eat and drink, an' all the while as blind 
 as puppies." 
 
 Mr. Merton was not as wise as he considered him- 
 self; but, after all, who is. He fairly disgusted 
 Mrs. Paddington with his story and his satisfaction 
 in it, and she felt both ashamed and angry that her 
 brother should have resorted to so mean a method 
 of stopping the affair. " The whole world knows," 
 she argued with herself, " that men are fools about 
 pretty faces and that the most honourable women 
 may, all unwittingly, be the cause of the most 
 desperate encounters " this with a complacent 
 memory of the havoc she herself had once wrought 
 in the hearts and pistol-boxes of the late Reginald 
 Paddington and his friends. 
 
 As for Mistress Dorothy, why, the longer she 
 gave ear to the crowing of Mr. Merton, the more 
 her little heart inclined to the romantic and unfor- 
 tunate Captain Love ; and, in a lesser degree, to the 
 solemn Mr. Creighton. Whole stanzas of the cap- 
 tain's verses recurred to her mind; and again she 
 saw his face and heard his voice as on that Christ- 
 mas morning when he had given her the book. But
 
 194 Captain Love 
 
 with a caution that one would not have expected of 
 her, she showed nothing of her feelings to Mr. 
 Merton. 
 
 No sooner was Merton out of the house than 
 Dorothy went to her own room, locked the door, 
 and sat down with pen and paper. Her scholastic 
 attainments were of the mildest type, as befitted a 
 lady of quality of those good old days. The very 
 sight of the ink and white paper struck discomfort 
 to her heart; and the knowledge that the gentle- 
 man to whom she was about to write was a poet 
 of distinction did not serve to put her any more 
 at her ease. But at last a few lines were accom- 
 plished and the paper folded and sealed. 
 
 Captain Love was sitting by his fire, sunk in 
 pensive meditation, when old Tom hobbled in with 
 Mistress Dorothy's note. The first reading left him 
 blank ; the second, impatient ; but soon, as he gazed 
 at the childish signature, remorse struck at his sus- 
 ceptible heart. He thrust the sheet into the fire, 
 watched it blacken and glare, and then set about 
 the preparing of his person for the street. All the 
 while he was arraying himself in his fine attire, he 
 nervously planned his course of action. 
 
 " I must remember the indignity to which I have 
 been put by the head of her family," he murmured.
 
 The Captain's Temptation 195 
 
 " I must keep cool for both our sakes. She is beau- 
 tiful, but I must remember my word to John." 
 
 He remembered also the flavour of that imma- 
 terial dream. He looked at himself with impersonal 
 eyes but personal knowledge, and groaned at what 
 he saw. That, after all, the end of his quest lay 
 not in London, he felt convinced ; and a disturbing 
 realization that his heart, as well as his name and 
 degree, lay somewhere back of his broken memory, 
 was strong in him. 
 
 " My God ! " he said, " was ever a man left more 
 naked to the mercies of the world?" 
 
 And now, fully attired, the captain awoke to the 
 fact that he was a full five hours too early for the 
 appointment. 
 
 So he walked the streets, looked in at several 
 shops, and at last entered a quiet inn not far from 
 the Petre house and called for a stoup of canary. 
 Mine host knew the captain well by both sight and 
 reputation, and so allowed himself the honour of 
 serving him with his own hands. The captain acted 
 very graciously; invited the good innkeeper to 
 drink with him, and told several capital stories. 
 But he looked frequently at his watch ; and shortly 
 after the falling of dusk he settled his hat on his 
 wig, paid the score, and stepped into the street.
 
 196 Captain Love 
 
 " A rare, fine gentleman," said the innkeeper, 
 " an' sociable as a play-actor. John," he added, 
 to an assistant, " don't forget to tell every gentle- 
 man who comes here that the great Captain Love is 
 one of our steady customers." 
 
 The captain arrived at the door of Sir John's 
 house sharp on the appointed minute. The street 
 was empty. He stepped into the vestibule, paused 
 for a second to question his heart, and then laid a 
 hand against the door. The heavy structure of iron 
 and oak moved at the touch, like a thing of human 
 wit. In a trice the gentleman was within, the way 
 closed behind him, and some one breathing quickly 
 beside him in the dusk of the hall. He felt the 
 brushing of light fingers on his arm. 
 
 " Was it not brave of me to bid you come ? " 
 whispered the voice of Dorothy. The captain, feel- 
 ing that the bravery was his in coming like a thief 
 in the night, could not fit his tongue to a reply. 
 So he put his left hand across his body and gently 
 clasped those fingers resting on his right arm. 
 
 So they continued for a few seconds in what was 
 surely a very romantic situation; then the lady 
 withdrew her hand. 
 
 "You think me bold unmaidenly?" she 
 sighed.
 
 The Captain's Temptation 197 
 
 The captain denied the charge. No gentleman 
 could do less and the captain was young and a 
 poet. Already half the sage advice he had given 
 himself in his rooms was forgotten. 
 
 " I want you to forgive my brother," whispered 
 Dorothy. 
 
 Under the circumstances, that did not seem hard 
 to do. 
 
 " I am your humble servant," he murmured. 
 
 Again he felt her hand on his arm. Again he 
 captured it; and at that moment the voice of Mrs. 
 Paddington was heard, calling her sister. He felt 
 the girl's slim body very close to his side, the 
 personification of beauty and youth touching him 
 softly on elbow and shoulder. In a second he had 
 drawn her to him and kissed those incomparable 
 lips and in another second he had opened the 
 great door and stepped into the night. 
 
 For an hour, Captain Love paced the dark streets 
 in a fever of remorse. He called himself many hard 
 names, false friend and wolf-in-the-fold among 
 them, for, after all, he was but an infant in the 
 world's ways, reckoning from the date of his sec- 
 ond birth at Nullwood Lower Farm. He called him- 
 self a weakling and a knave. He had played his
 
 198 Captain Love 
 
 friend false, but, still worse, he had been false 
 to his dream ! 
 
 Supperless, he turned his steps to Babcock's, and 
 there strove to fortify his undermined self-respect 
 with wine. At last he went up-stairs, determined to 
 find distraction in play. The place was crowded 
 with gentlemen but just arrived. 
 
 Among them was Lord Buckley, red of face and 
 glassy of eye. He espied the captain immediately. 
 
 " Make way," he roared. " The fighter of blood- 
 less battles the kidnapped hero is upon us." 
 
 The earl had drunk deep at supper. Now he gave 
 himself up to loud and jeering mirth, not noticing 
 that his pleasantry had been received in silence by 
 the company. Presently his breath was spent. The 
 sudden silence smote his ear like a slap from an 
 open hand. His gaze went from one unresponsive 
 face to another ; and the false courage of his recent 
 potations evaporated from his heart. 
 
 " Is your lordship pleased to refer to me ? " in- 
 quired the captain, unsteadily. His brow and cheeks 
 were as flushed as the earl's, and his limbs trembled. 
 Was the emotion under which he struggled that of 
 fear or indignation? Wiser men than Lord Buck- 
 ley have mistaken the one for the other. The earl's 
 mirthful arrogance returned to him. He had for-
 
 The Captain's Temptation 199 
 
 gotten the outcome of his former argument with the 
 captain. 
 
 " I'll send for Sir John Petre an' his coach, if 
 ye put on any of your airs," he cried. 
 
 The captain stepped forward, raised a daintily 
 gloved hand and caught the earl by the nose. 
 Thumb and finger pinched like iron; but only for 
 a second. Then the captain was pulled back with 
 such violence that his hold on that most crimson 
 point of the earl's crimson countenance gave way 
 with an excruciatingly painful slip and twist. The 
 nobleman roared like a bull, and snatched his sword 
 clear of its scabbard. In a moment he was over- 
 powered by half a dozen gentlemen and forced, 
 weaponless, into a chair. 
 
 " I warned you that I'd pull your nose for you," 
 said Love.
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 PARSON LOVE 
 
 FOR more than forty years had the Reverend 
 John Love, M. A., looked after the spiritual condi- 
 tions of the people of Dodwater, in B shire. Two 
 squires had found him a pillar of strength, each 
 in his turn seeking the parson's advice on all mat- 
 ters. Two generations of fox-hunters had seen the 
 parson's black coat in the front of the field. But 
 a few old men would sometimes tell of a plague of 
 sickness that swept through Dodwater ; of the death 
 of the parson's young wife, who was the old squire's 
 daughter ; and of two years when there was no fox- 
 hunting in Dodwater. 
 
 Young John Love had been trained until his sev- 
 enteenth year by the parson and David Frunk. 
 Then he had ridden away, with an ensign's commis- 
 sion in his pocket, to return occasionally some- 
 times after five years, sometimes after three to 
 tell stories of half the kingdoms of Europe. 
 
 One January morning the parson called David 
 Frunk into his study. 
 
 200
 
 Parson Love 201 
 
 " I'll be setting out for London to-morrow," he 
 said. 
 
 " Lor', sir," cried David, " ye've not been 
 a-hearin' of bad news from Master Jack." 
 
 The parson stepped over to the hearth and 
 knocked the ashes from his long pipe into the fire. 
 
 " Ye'll remember, David," he said, " the letter I 
 got from the captain in August? " 
 
 " Ay, sure I remembers," replied old David. 
 " Master Jack the capting were wisitin' among 
 the gentry in Northumberland an' were a-goin' up 
 to London with one o' his friends to ax the queen 
 to give he a easier job at sojerin' nor what he's bin 
 havin'. An' then he were a-comin' home for Cris- 
 mus." 
 
 " Yes," said the parson. He filled his pipe with 
 tobacco from a jar on the table and lit it with a 
 coal from the fire. When the smoke was rolling 
 about him, he turned again to his faithful servant. 
 
 "Well," he said, "that is the last I've heard 
 from him and he didn't come home for Christ- 
 mas." 
 
 " He were never much on the writin'," murmured 
 David Frunk. 
 
 " Ay, he was no quill-driver," replied the parson, 
 "but he stood always to his word. Neither heat
 
 202 Captain Love 
 
 nor cold, hard roads nor soft, would turn him from 
 a journey he'd set himself to." 
 
 " Ay, ye couldn't turn him with a axe, once he'd 
 got his head sot," cried old David. " He'll get what 
 he wants in Lunnon Town, I vum, though the queen 
 herself tells him no." 
 
 " He was always a good son," said the parson ; 
 " and if he was a trifle headstrong, he was not reck- 
 less. I can't think, for the life of me, what's keep- 
 ing him." > 
 
 " Well, sir," replied David, " for all he warn't 
 much to look at (not takin' arter his blessed 
 mother), an' a trifle too short i' the shanks to be 
 shapely, I'm thinkin' he had a way with him what 
 took the women. Maybe th' queen took a fancy to 
 'im, sir." 
 
 The parson looked at his servant. 
 
 " David," said he, " you take a liberty in speak- 
 ing so of her Majesty, to say nothing of your 
 master and the captain." 
 
 " Sir," cried Frunk, " I'm the last person to 
 knowingly take a liberty with me betters. An' now 
 I'll be off to cobble me boots an' clean me blunder- 
 bust an' borrow an extry saddle from squire." 
 
 " David, my good old friend, I intend riding to 
 London alone," said the parson, falteringly.
 
 Parson Love 203 
 
 The old servant shook his head and chuckled. 
 
 " Beggin' your pardin', sir," said he, " but we 
 both goes or we both stays. What would ye be 
 a-doin' in Lunnon without your David, I'd like to 
 know." 
 
 At an early hour of the morning following the 
 night of trouble at Babcock's, the Reverend John 
 Love, M. A., and David Frunk arrived in London. 
 They had made the journey in safety and compara- 
 tive comfort, David's blunderbuss assuring them 
 freedom from footpads during the day, and the 
 parson's gold procuring them the best of fare and 
 bed every night. 
 
 As they had breakfasted at the little hostel a few 
 miles from the edge of the town, where they had 
 spent the night, they now rode well towards the 
 heart of things before thinking of a halt. They 
 were mightily taken up with the scenes of life about 
 them; and for a little while the good old parson 
 forgot his anxiety. For a long time they walked 
 their horses slowly, each staring to right and left 
 in childish wonder and delight. David could not 
 understand what the queen was about to allow such 
 a rumpus. 
 
 "Ye an' squire wouldn't allow it up to Dod- 
 water," he remarked.
 
 204 Captain Love 
 
 But the parson was too intent on his novel sur- 
 roundings to hear. 
 
 " Demme," exclaimed David, after a short si- 
 lence, " if I didn't spy a fellow with his hand in 
 that old gentleman's pocket. Blast me, but we 
 wouldn't allow that up to Dodwater." 
 
 " I fear me 'tis an evil place," replied Parson 
 Love. " An evil place, and yet how stirring, 
 how full of action ! " 
 
 " Ay, action enough an* to spare," muttered 
 David. " An' I do hope Master Jack have kep' his 
 pockets buttoned tight," he added, in a still lower 
 voice. 
 
 " Well," said the parson presently, " we might 
 ride the streets all day through this multitude of 
 people, and not find the one we seek," and at that 
 moment his glance caught the glance of a stout man 
 in an apron standing in a doorway under a sign- 
 board, at his left hand an arch leading into a busy 
 courtyard. 
 
 The innkeeper bowed respectfully. The par- 
 son drew rein. The innkeeper stepped to his stir- 
 rup. 
 
 " I keep an honest house, sir," said he, " patron- 
 ized by the gentlemen of the Church, the nobility 
 and gentry. Bright rooms, sir; honest English
 
 Parson Love 205 
 
 fare ; home-brewed and wines why, sir, only 
 last night I was complimented on my wine by Cap- 
 tain Love." 
 
 "Ho, ho!" exclaimed David Frunk, who was 
 listening with both ears. But the parson asked very 
 quietly who was Captain Love, though his honest 
 face showed his emotions to the kindly eye of the 
 innkeeper. 
 
 " Who is Captain Love? " was the reply. " Why, 
 sir, he is the finest gentleman in London. Count- 
 esses, I hear tell, die for the love of him, an' liter- 
 ary gentlemen want to stab him with their quills 
 because his rhymes be better than theirs." 
 
 At this news something of the light of hope faded 
 from the parson's face. It seemed to him rather late 
 in life for his son to display a talent for versifica- 
 tion. On the other hand, he recalled a time when 
 he himself had written rhymes; might not Jack, 
 too, have fallen in love and recorded the pains and 
 joys of it in poetry? And if Jack once set his hand 
 to the making of verses, they would be good verses. 
 Whatever he did was done with his whole heart. 
 Five minutes later the parson and the innkeeper 
 were seated over a flask of canary. 
 
 " Is this gentleman of whom you speak a native 
 of London ? " inquired the cleric.
 
 206 Captain Love 
 
 " No, sir," replied the host. " He's been in town 
 but a matter of months. He's a great soldier, I've 
 heard, and has fought in all manner of outlandish 
 parts." 
 
 " His name? " whispered the parson. 
 
 The innkeeper scratched his head. 
 
 " His name ? " he murmured. " The name of 
 Captain Love? Dang me, but it's slipped my nod- 
 dle. Something short it be, that I know well 
 enough. Would it be Dick, now Dick Love ? " 
 
 " Or Jack? " queried the parson, breathlessly. 
 
 " Ay, or Jack," replied the other. " Jack Love ? 
 Dick Love? Captain Jack? Captain Dick? Dang 
 me, but I believe 'tis Jack, after all." 
 
 The old gentleman leaned across the table and 
 grasped the astonished innkeeper by the hand. 
 
 " He's my son, my only son," he cried. " Ah, 
 my friend, ye've done a kindly deed this day. Now 
 tell me where he lives. Send one of your fellows 
 to guide me to him." 
 
 A certain Major Scott was engaged in making 
 explanations to Captain Love, on behalf of Lord 
 Buckley (who had meant nothing amiss, I assure 
 you, sir, and is one of the most good-natured noble- 
 men in England), when old Tom, eager to get back
 
 Parson Love 207 
 
 to the kitchen to ask questions of David Frunk, 
 ushered the vicar of Dodwater into the room and 
 closed the door on his heels. The parson bowed 
 low to the gentlemen at the far end of the room. 
 
 " Will you be so kind," said he, " as to tell me 
 if Captain Love is at home? " 
 
 " At your service, sir," replied the captain, bow- 
 ing. 
 
 The parson stared. 
 
 " I am Captain Love," said the poet. 
 
 The old man swayed and his ruddy face went 
 white. Both gentlemen sprang forward to assist 
 him; but he steadied himself against the back of 
 a chair. 
 
 " You,'* he cried. " Nay, you are not my son." 
 
 " Your son," exclaimed the captain, faintly. 
 Consternation chilled him until he was as pale and 
 shaken as his visitor. 
 
 " I do not understand," he whispered. 
 
 " If you have a heart," replied the old man, " tell 
 me of my son. Tell me of my only son, the brave 
 soldier who set out for London six months ago, 
 with a fine friend from the north." 
 . A light flashed on the young man's brain and a 
 weight of dread and pity sank to his heart.
 
 208 Captain Love 
 
 " What can I tell you ? " he cried. " My God, 
 what can I tell you ? " 
 
 At that moment the door opened and closed. 
 Major Scott had departed, unnoticed by the others, 
 to carry an amazing story to his patron the earl.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 DISCLOSURES 
 
 THE Reverend John Love caught the young gen- 
 tleman by the shoulders and glared into his face. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this ? " he asked, with 
 a ring of menace in his voice. " How dare you tell 
 me, sir, that you are Captain Love ? " 
 
 " My dear sir," replied the other, " if I have lied 
 to you, if I have harmed you, I have done so 
 in utter blindness. Calm yourself, I pray, and listen 
 to me with the charity of a priest of God, and not 
 the just anger of a father." 
 
 At that the parson sank weakly into the chair 
 against which he had been leaning. The distress 
 in the other's voice had cleared his heart of anger 
 and left it open to the blackest forebodings. 
 
 " Tell me the worst," he murmured. 
 
 For a moment the captain hesitated, bending 
 above his visitor with a stricken face. Then he 
 drew a ring from his finger and thrust it into the 
 other's hand ; but his tongue failed him. The par- 
 
 209
 
 210 Captain Love 
 
 son looked long at the ring, turning it between his 
 fingers. 
 
 " Yes," he said, wearily, " it is my son's ring. 
 I gave it to him myself on his sixteenth birthday. 
 See the dint here, where the hilt of a Spanish sabre 
 struck it ten years ago." 
 
 And suddenly, even while he spoke, tears sprang 
 out upon the brave old face. 
 
 The sight of that paternal grief shocked the cap- 
 tain beyond words, assaulting his heart with phys- 
 ical pain. He fell on his knees before the old man, 
 and, in broken sentences, told the story of his career 
 since his recovery at Nullwood Lower Farm, and 
 of all he had heard from the farmer's daughter. 
 Then he bowed his face on his hands, his hands 
 resting on the arm of the chair. For a long time 
 he knelt thus, all his own affairs forgotten, listen- 
 ing to the half-stifled sobs of the old clergyman. 
 At last he felt a hand on his head. 
 
 " You were Jack's friend," said the gentle voice. 
 " Now that Jack is gone from us you must 
 be a good friend to me." 
 
 Half an hour later David Frunk was sent for. 
 He looked distrustfully at the captain when he heard 
 the story; for his mind, being that of a peasant, 
 worked slowly.
 
 Disclosures 211 
 
 " Old man," said the captain, reading the other's 
 glance, " you doubt my story now ; but, before a 
 week is passed, you will believe it. In the mean- 
 time, bear with me in charity, as your master 
 does." 
 
 David had nothing to say to that ; but the parson 
 took the young man's hand in his. 
 
 " Lad," said he, " I trust you as one of my own 
 blood. Did not the same hands that shattered my 
 dreams of the future deprive you utterly of the past. 
 As I have lost the son, so have you lost your parents 
 and the friends of your youth. Your reunion of 
 love will soon be accomplished and mine in a few 
 years' time, by the mercy of God." 
 
 David Frunk returned to the company of the 
 captain's servants, fully convinced that, whatever 
 his private feelings, he must display an unmoved 
 countenance. Twice, on his way down-stairs, he 
 had to pause and brush the tears from his eyes. So 
 Master Jack had been killed by highwaymen, and 
 here was a young fellow calling himself the captain, 
 and living like a lord, and telling a story that surely 
 no full-grown man but the parson would believe for 
 a minute. 
 
 " It beats me, it do," he muttered, " an' what's 
 to happen nex', I'm danged if I knows."
 
 212 Captain Love 
 
 In the kitchen he was greeted impatiently by the 
 inquisitive Tom. 
 
 " How d'ye find the capting? " he asked. 
 
 " Well enough, well enough," replied David, 
 " though I'd like to see 'im a trifle shorter an' a trifle 
 broader." 
 
 Tom and his old wife and the young footman 
 stared at the stranger in perplexity. At last the 
 old woman said : " Well, for my part, Master 
 Frunk, I think the capting do have a most elegant 
 figger." 
 
 " Ay, maybe yer right, ma'm," said David, list- 
 lessly. 
 
 The gentlemen up-stairs opened their hearts to 
 each other. The parson told what he knew of his 
 son's friends in the north, and promised to help the 
 captain in the quest of his name and people. He 
 told of the real captain's childhood, little homely 
 incidents glorified by the love through which they 
 were remembered, and of his courage and hon- 
 esty; and, as the young man listened, his heart re- 
 called the old love for his friend, though his brain 
 was still baffled. 
 
 London held no interest now for Parson Love. 
 He was anxious to take saddle again and distract 
 his heart with the perils and discomforts of the
 
 Disclosures 213 
 
 road. He wanted to see Farmer Holt; and then 
 to ride to Northumberland and see his new friend, 
 his poor son's intimate, restored to his birthrights. 
 His wounded heart leaned to the unfortunate young 
 man. He had a deep knowledge of faces, and read 
 courage and loyalty and tenderness in the eyes and 
 features of his host. A hundred ties seemed to bind 
 him to this youth whom he had never seen before, 
 whose name he did not know, and with every min- 
 ute the ties strengthened. 
 
 On the captain's part, the friendship was as quick 
 and as sincere. He felt immeasurably grateful to 
 the old gentleman for his insight and forgiveness. 
 He loved him for his trust. Pity and loneliness 
 drew him to that fatherly and sympathetic heart. 
 The stricken but gallant old priest seemed to him 
 Hope personified, a clue to the lost past, a 
 hold upon those dear, dead days, the sweetness of 
 which sometimes touched his dreams. 
 
 The parson was for taking the road on the mor- 
 row ; but the captain ( we must continue to call him 
 so for a little) begged him to wait a few days. He 
 had affairs to settle, a few friends to bid farewell 
 to, and servants to dismiss. He was still in doubt 
 of the settlement of the Buckley matter, that noble- 
 man's friend having departed in the middle of ex-
 
 214 Captain Love 
 
 planations. He had a number of bills to pay and 
 two extra horses, a fine carriage, and a sedan-chair 
 to dispose of. So the parson agreed to await the 
 captain's convenience in the matter, and David 
 Frunk and the young footmen were sent to the inn 
 to bring around the parson's horses and saddle-bags. 
 The captain went about his business sanely 
 enough in the afternoon, paying his bills and ar- 
 ranging for the sale of such of his possessions as 
 he had decided to part with. But his heart all the 
 while was in a tumult of conflicting emotions. Now 
 it suffered consternation that the name he had car- 
 ried so gallantly ay, and even the military title 
 of captain had been proved, of a surety, to no 
 more belong to him than to any of his servants. 
 He could think of himself as nothing but Captain 
 Love; and though he had never fully believed that 
 chance had given him his true name out of the shat- 
 tered past, the proof of the mistake struck him like 
 a disinheritance. Then pity for his lost and unre- 
 membered friend, and rage at the thought of his 
 cruel death, took hold of him. Pity for the good 
 clergyman depressed him. Shame ran over him 
 like a wave of heat at the recollection of the scene 
 with Dorothy, of his broken faith with Sir John 
 Petre. And now a wonderful joy possessed him,
 
 Disclosures 
 
 and, in broad daylight, he felt something of that 
 enchantment that had previously come to him only 
 in his dreams. In Northumberland his past awaited 
 him. What a great adventure was this, to mount 
 a horse and ride from the misfitted present, with its 
 shame and cares and loneliness, back to the for- 
 gotten life, to childhood friends, to his own name 
 and his own people. And what else awaited him 
 there? Could it be that somewhere in the old life 
 dwelt the inspiration of his dream? Could it be 
 that the cloud lifted from his mind during his sleep? 
 that the disquieting sweetness that clung to him 
 on waking from that furtive dream was the half- 
 memory of a memory? And if a dream could stir 
 a man like that, what of the living inspiration of 
 it? If a half-memory, what of the Being remem- 
 bered ? 
 
 While passing the door of a tavern, the captain 
 was accosted by Mr. Creighton. The gentleman 
 from Dorset was decidedly the worse for his liquor 
 and enjoyed a dare-devil mood very foreign to his 
 nature. He grabbed the captain by the arm and 
 bawled his name aloud in the street. Then 
 " Come in ! Come in ! " he cried. " I've been 
 drinkin' to Merton an' Merton's been drinkin' to 
 himself. Join us, Dick, and we'll drain the cellar."
 
 216 Captain Love 
 
 "What is it all about?" inquired the captain, 
 allowing himself to be dragged into the tavern. 
 
 " Why, it's for the drowning of sorrow, as far 
 as you and I are concerned," replied Creighton. 
 " We're out of that race, my son, and damn glad 
 I am to know it, for 'twould have gone mightily 
 against my pride to marry into that family after 
 what happened t'other day." 
 
 " What the devil are you talking about? " asked 
 the captain. 
 
 Mr. Creighton paid no attention to the question, 
 but led the way to a table where sat Mr. Merton, 
 flushed of face and broadly grinning. 
 
 " He has come in for Bullyham and ten thousand 
 a year," cried Creighton, lowering himself heavily 
 into a chair. " Look at him grin, the hero! And 
 he's been around to Petre's and the ladies have 
 invited him to supper. What d'ye think of that, 
 Dick? Are you asked to supper? No, lad, and no 
 more am I ! " 
 
 The captain congratulated Mr. Merton on his 
 new possessions. The master of Mertonwick and 
 Bullyham received the congratulations with a 
 warmth that almost melted him to tears. 
 
 " I'm a lucky man, Love," he babbled. " Yester- 
 day, mind you, I was one of the poorest gentlemen
 
 Disclosures 217 
 
 in Dorset and now, by gad, I'm the richest ! Yes- 
 terday, or thereabouts, it was all ' the captain and 
 Mr. Creighton ' and ' Mr. Creighton and the cap- 
 tain,' but to-day it is another tune, my lads ! To- 
 day it is nothing but ' Mr. Merton ' and that is 
 worth ten thousand a year, or I'm a liar ! " 
 
 "What d'ye mean?" asked Love. "Damme if 
 I can make head nor tail of your story." 
 
 " Oh, it is simple enough," said Mr. Creighton. 
 " Merton is drunk ; but I see the truth in his eye. 
 You will have noticed, Dick, that our worthy friend 
 has seemed, up to the time of our last observation, 
 to occupy third position in the friendly race in which 
 we have all been more or less engaged of late. Yes, 
 Dick, he was a weak third, and a fool to look at. 
 But now he wishes you to understand that he thinks 
 he'll win." 
 
 The captain gazed fixedly at Mr. Merton. The 
 honest fellow looked very happy and very drunk. 
 
 " Well," said he, " I wish you luck. But be care- 
 ful that you are in condition to keep your appoint- 
 ment. 
 
 The parson and the captain supped quietly to- 
 gether at home. The parson ate little and talked 
 less; and his solicitous host's good wine was fla- 
 vourless on his tongue.
 
 218 Captain Love 
 
 The captain, understanding the old man's sorrow, 
 kept silence concerning his own hopes and fears. 
 When the meal was over he told his guest that he 
 must spend a few hours at Babcock's, for there the 
 gentlemen of the town were to be met with, and 
 he must tell them that he had decided to go on a 
 journey. The old man nodded, smiled kindly and 
 returned to his meditations. The captain left him 
 seated in a great chair by the fire, his wig on his 
 knee, his hands clasped together and his gentle eyes 
 bent on the dancing flames. 
 
 The captain made known his intention of going 
 north, on family matters, to several of his acquaint- 
 ances; then, with what money he could afford to 
 risk convenient in his right-hand pocket, he went 
 up-stairs. Play was already going merrily forward ; 
 cards at some tables, dice at others, and at some a 
 game calling for the use of both these agents of 
 chance. Wines and punches were being served 
 briskly. Some wigs were awry and not a few were 
 laid aside. Lace ruffles were turned back over wide 
 cuffs. Whenever a candle flared and smoked, a 
 silent-footed attendant trimmed the wick, the play- 
 ers not so much as raising their eyes from the busi- 
 ness in hand. It was a scene that had begun to 
 pall on the captain and yet it was typical of his
 
 Disclosures 219 
 
 whole existence in London. He would have one 
 more night of it and then Babcock's and its fre- 
 quenters could go to the devil, for all of him. He 
 soon found an empty table and a gentleman who 
 was anxious to play. 
 
 The stakes were small; but fortune favoured 
 the captain so persistently that, after a half-hour of 
 play, a group of idlers gathered about the players. 
 Major Scott and Lord Buckley joined the specta- 
 tors; but the captain saw neither of them, for his 
 mind and eyes were on the game. Presently, after 
 a whispered word in Buckley's ear, the major with- 
 drew from the quiet crowd about the table and went 
 down-stairs. He returned shortly, accompanied by 
 a tall and lean gentleman with a weather-beaten 
 and cadaverous countenance. The stranger wore 
 a serviceable rapier at his side and great spurs on 
 the heels of his heavy jack-boots. His costume was 
 of a military style. He elbowed his way through 
 the rank of onlookers until he stood close behind 
 the gentleman who was engaged in play with the 
 captain. 
 
 " Impostor ! " cried the stranger, in a harsh and 
 penetrating voice. 
 
 Every one within ear-shot turned upon him with 
 looks of dismay. The gentleman against whose
 
 220 Captain Love 
 
 chair he leaned twisted around in his seat, swore, 
 and returned to the game. But Captain Love, who 
 sat in a half-shadow, did not lift his eyes from the 
 cards in his hand. Not a muscle of his face moved 
 though, God knows, his heart leapt like a hare 
 and then pounded in his side. 
 
 For seconds an expectant silence held the room. 
 Men drew their breaths softly and leaned forward. 
 Some stared at the dark-visaged stranger; others 
 followed his penetrating gaze to the bent head of 
 Captain Love. 
 
 " You, sir," continued the stranger. " You who 
 call yourself Captain Love and say that you com- 
 manded the body-guard of the Sultan of Turkey. 
 Impostor, I give you the lie." 
 
 At that the captain got quickly to his feet and 
 leaned across the table toward his accuser. He 
 would face the trouble like a man. At a glance he 
 recognized the stranger as the broken mariner 
 whom he had entertained on Christmas morning. 
 
 The recognition was mutual. The mariner 
 turned with an oath and grasped Lord Buckley by 
 the shoulders. 
 
 " You accursed liar ! " he cried. " Hire some one 
 else to do your dirty tricks for you, gallows bird ! " 
 
 The earl pulled himself free of the great hands,
 
 Disclosures 221 
 
 staggered, babbled a few incoherent words and fell 
 on the floor in a fit. Nobody heeded him. 
 
 " This gentleman," added the stranger, pointing 
 to Captain Love and turning an angry face on the 
 company, " is an honest man and a brave one. Be 
 careful how you lend ear to lies concerning him." 
 
 Then, with a look of disgust at the prostrate earl, 
 he strode from the room.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 FAREWELLS 
 
 Now the captain found himself more of a hero 
 than ever at Babcock's. Not only his friends, but 
 gentlemen with whom he had hitherto been on the 
 merest terms of civility, pressed about him and con- 
 gratulated him on his victory over the dishonour- 
 able earl. 
 
 The captain went home in good spirits, heartened 
 by the kindness of the gentlemen of London and 
 deeply touched by the loyalty displayed toward him 
 by that strange person whom he had fed, and phi- 
 losophized with, on Christmas Day. He found the 
 parson still up and awake, seated by a cold hearth. 
 He told him of the night's adventure; and the old 
 man was quickened from his reverie. 
 
 " My dear lad," he said, anxiously, " we must 
 hasten away from town. You are not safe one 
 moment while you remain in the same place with 
 so unprincipled an enemy." 
 
 " His fangs are drawn," replied the captain. 
 
 " Nay," returned the parson, " the fangs of such 
 
 222
 
 Farewells 223 
 
 a viper are to be feared so long as sin and poverty 
 exist. With his gold he will buy other ruffians to 
 compass your undoing. Let us take saddle early 
 in the morning, for I should dearly love to return 
 you to the arms of your people to see in others 
 that joy which God, in his infinite wisdom, has seen 
 fit to withhold, for a little while, from me." 
 
 " Sir," cried the captain, impulsively, " your care 
 is all for others, while I concern myself with but 
 my own affairs. And even in realizing this (such 
 an egotist am I), I must pity myself anew for 
 how must I have loved and honoured the son of 
 such a father." 
 
 " Nay," replied the old man, " I love you for it. 
 Youth is ever an egotist, and old age a nurse and 
 busybody." 
 
 " Then, in your charity, wait for me until to- 
 morrow," begged the young man. 
 
 " I am thinking of your danger," replied the par- 
 son. 
 
 " I have one more affair to deal with," said the 
 captain. 
 
 " An affair? " cried the other, in a voice of agi- 
 tation. 
 
 " Ay, but not of pistols or swords," replied the 
 captain, pensively. " I would to Heaven it were."
 
 224 Captain Love 
 
 Soon after breakfast, on the following morning, 
 the captain walked around to the house of Sir John 
 Petre. He could decide on no plan of action ; but 
 to act honourably he was determined. Already he 
 felt bonds enclosing him, and his spirit struggling 
 against them. But he would pay for the impulse 
 of a moment with a lifelong service. He would 
 foreswear, if need be, even the magic promise and 
 haunting sweetness of his dream. 
 
 To his surprise, and greatly to his relief, he was 
 told that the baronet had returned from the coun- 
 try. The grudge he owed that gentleman for the 
 kidnapping affair was gone completely from his 
 mind. He could only remember the old friendship 
 and kindness, and his own broken word. He fol- 
 lowed the servant into the library with timidity and 
 awaited Sir John's entrance with a fluttering heart. 
 
 The baronet stepped in, closed the door behind 
 him, and looked at the captain with a question in 
 his eyes and a flush of guilt on his face. The cap- 
 tain returned the gaze with equal diffidence. 
 
 " Dick," said Petre, at last, " before you upbraid 
 me, I want you to know that I am willing to beg 
 your pardon a thousand times for for the liberty 
 I took with your person and for my cowardly flight
 
 Farewells 225 
 
 the morning after. I'll go down on my knees to 
 you, Dick ! I'll do anything but fight you ! " 
 
 " John ! " cried the captain, " John, it is I who 
 should talk of kneeling for pardon." 
 
 The baronet advanced and laid his hands on the 
 younger man's shoulders. 
 
 " Nay," he said, " having heard it long ago, from 
 your own lips, what care I for Lord Buckley's gos- 
 sip? Though a cruel fate had made you seventy 
 times an impostor seventy times not Captain 
 Love you are my friend, Dick." 
 
 The captain steadied his wits. 
 
 " So you have heard from Lord Buckley ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Bright and early yesterday morning," replied 
 the baronet, " and my heart ached for both you and 
 the old parson. Will you give me your hand, 
 Dick?" 
 
 They shook hands warmly. 
 
 " I want you to let me help you," continued 
 Petre. " Whatever is in my power, that I will 
 gladly do." 
 
 For a little the captain was silent. He could not 
 confess the indiscretion that lay so heavily on his 
 mind without implicating the lady. That would
 
 226 Captain Love 
 
 surely be an ungentlemanly return for the brother's 
 friendship and the sister's tenderness. He saw, 
 alas, that the moment had not yet come for entire 
 frankness. Evidently the Petre family had not 
 got news of his triumph over Buckley before the 
 assembled gentlemen at Babcock's. 
 
 " I am going northward in a few hours," he said, 
 " to look for my home and name. But I shall never 
 forget your kindness, John, never, so long as I 
 live." 
 
 His words were sincere. 
 
 " But, John," he continued, " can you tell me if 
 
 if Dorothy if I must give up all hope of her 
 
 her esteem ? " 
 
 The anxiety in his voice was real, Heaven knows; 
 but the baronet was in darkness as to the true cause 
 of it. He looked compassionately at the agitated 
 adventurer. 
 
 " You are young, Dick, and life is before you," 
 he said. " Your true place in the world, I am sure, 
 is a great one greater, though not braver, than 
 this in which you have been forced to masquerade. 
 Keep a brave heart, Dick, for the world is full of 
 good and beautiful women." 
 
 " What d'ye mean? " asked the captain, eagerly. 
 
 The baronet sighed, and averted his face from
 
 Farewells 227 
 
 the anxious gaze of his friend. He did not relish 
 his duty. 
 
 " She had taken the exposure of your position 
 very much to heart," he said. He drew a small, 
 flat parcel from his pocket. " And and she has 
 asked me to give you back your book," he con- 
 cluded. 
 
 What was the emotion that snatched the colour 
 from the captain's cheeks as he advanced an un- 
 steady hand for the packet? Whatever it was, it 
 moved Sir John to renewed compassion. 
 
 " Dick," he whispered, huskily, " this scene pains 
 me beyond words." 
 
 " I was mad ever to think of her," murmured 
 the captain. " There are men with names and 
 property. Oh, yes, I was a fool; but I see my 
 folly." 
 
 " Nay, Dick, do not take it so to heart," begged 
 the baronet. 
 
 The captain flushed at that. Then he made a 
 remark that puzzled his friend and continued to 
 puzzle him for many days. 
 
 " John," he cried, " 'tis your friendship I would 
 not lose! Your friendship, that takes no heed of 
 riches, is the thing I value above all other things 
 in London ! "
 
 228 Captain Love 
 
 On returning to his house, Capain Love found 
 the broken mariner, still in the great boots, the spurs 
 and the riding-coat of the previous night, entertain- 
 ing the parson with his learning and philosophy. 
 The captain greeted him cordially. 
 
 " I have come," said the mariner, " to warn you 
 against Lord Buckley; and, at the same time, beg 
 your protection. This reverend gentleman, your 
 father, informs me that you intend starting north- 
 ward within the hour. May I ride with you, sir? " 
 
 For a moment the captain hesitated. 
 
 " Surely," cried the stranger, " you cannot sus- 
 pect me of still being the tool of the man whom 
 I so lately exposed to open shame? Nay, captain, 
 for by that act inspired by your charity to a 
 beggar I have turned London into a trap of 
 death for myself. Whatever your trouble may be, 
 the danger is to both of us." 
 
 " Forgive me," said the captain. " God knows 
 I owe you a debt of gratitude for your courage and 
 honesty of last night. I shall feel honoured by 
 your company." 
 
 " And I, also," said the good parson. 
 
 " And yet," said the stranger, bitterly, " if I had 
 not seen in you the friend of Christmas morning,
 
 Farewells 229 
 
 I'd have maintained my lie with my sword, and 
 shed, for hire, the blood of the man who fed me." 
 
 The captain looked at the parson and met his 
 troubled regard with a faint smile. 
 
 " It was no lie, after all," he said to the big ad- 
 venturer. " Buckley told the truth when he named 
 me an impostor. I am not Captain Love. I am 
 not the son of this forgiving and charitable gentle- 
 man. I do not know who I am," 
 
 The stranger looked from the captain to the par- 
 son, and back again. Then he laughed. 
 
 " I try not to be overparticular about the company 
 I keep," he said. 
 
 The captain's face became bloodless in an instant. 
 The spirit of all his ancestors whoever they might 
 be shone in his eyes. 
 
 " This priest, the Reverend John Love, is not an 
 impostor," he said; "but if you are more nice in 
 your associates than he, you may leave us. Or, if 
 you wish to try to regain the esteem of Lord Buck- 
 ley, and earn his money, why, I do not fear your 
 great sword any more than one of the spits in my 
 kitchen. Though you were as big as Hercules, I'd 
 tell you the same, for I'm done with play-acting and 
 lying."
 
 230 Captain Love 
 
 " By God," cried the other, " if ever I draw sword 
 in your presence, 'twill be in your defence. You 
 may tell me your story or you may keep it from 
 me ; but only let me share your adventures and I'll 
 prove a loyal follower. If you have no name in 
 England, sir, why not cut yourself one in the west 
 or the east? We could lead armies and set thrones 
 tottling, you and I." 
 
 His dark, aquiline face glowed with an inner 
 'flame. His mad dreams lifted his whole person- 
 ality, like a poet's inspiration. His hand went to 
 his sword-hilt and his eyes flashed. 
 
 But the captain was not tempted. 
 
 " I have made one name for myself," said he, 
 "and little enough of happiness has come of it; 
 but I think the name (here he bowed gravely to 
 the parson) has suffered as much as I. Now my 
 quest is the name of my fathers." 
 
 The other came down to earth. 
 
 " I do not understand your position," he said ; 
 "but evidently it is very different from mine." 
 
 He looked searchingly from the parson to the 
 captain. Their game was beyond his comprehen- 
 sion, but his heart was with them and his curiosity 
 was keenly aroused.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 AT THE WHITE HERON 
 
 THE captain rode out to the White Heron on the 
 night before his departure northward. He said 
 nothing of where he was going to the parson, not 
 wishing to excite the old gentleman's anxiety; but, 
 not knowing how many of Buckley's ruffians might 
 be lurking in the dark streets, he left his famous 
 gray in the stables and bestrode a small, black mare. 
 To Buckley's cutthroats he would be known by his 
 horse rather than by his own person; but, for all 
 that, he kept his right hand on a pistol-butt and his 
 eyes ever on the alert. 
 
 This visit was one for which he had but little 
 appetite, for even now, on the eve of his departure 
 in search of his lost past, he feared the young 
 woman's beauty, and the pleading of her wonderful 
 eyes, more than the clubs and pistols of all Buck- 
 ley's followers. But he owed a duty the duty of 
 a friend to both her and her father. 
 
 The night was starlit and frosty, and the thor- 
 231
 
 232 Captain Love 
 
 oughfares and roads almost deserted; so the cap- 
 tain pressed forward at a brisk trot which brought 
 him, shortly, to the door of the inn. Leaving the 
 mare blanketed and in charge of a boy, he opened 
 the door and entered without waiting for word of 
 his arrival to be carried to his friend the innkeeper. 
 In the public room he found only one person a 
 traveller, evidently, who had journeyed far, for he 
 sat by the fire in an attitude of extreme weariness, 
 with his great cloak still on his shoulders and the 
 collar of it high about his face. 
 
 " Sharp weather," said the captain, hoping to 
 get a glimpse at the stranger's face; for men who 
 sit close to roaring fires, with their cloaks about 
 their ears, are sometimes worth looking at more 
 especially so if you happen to be in the black books 
 of gentlemen of Lord Buckley's kidney. For an- 
 swer, the stranger only hunched closer to the fire. 
 The captain gazed at him for a few seconds in si- 
 lence, then, " Where is the landlord ? " he asked. 
 At that the man by the fire turned quickly toward 
 his questioner and as quickly back again ; and Love 
 caught a fleeting glimpse of a young, pale face, very 
 thin, as if from hardships suffered. 
 
 " I have not seen him," he said. " I've been here 
 but a few minutes."
 
 At the White Heron 233 
 
 At that moment Clark entered the room and ad- 
 vanced on the captain with an exclamation of de- 
 light and his great right hand extended. 
 
 " My dear colonel, this warms me more than hot 
 liquor," he cried. " Rip me if it doesn't seem a year 
 since I last set eyes on you." 
 
 The captain seized his hand and pressed it 
 hard. 
 
 " Don't think me unmindful of your friendship," 
 he said. " I've been busy, of late, with one thing 
 and another and now I have come to bid you 
 good-bye, for I'm going home to-morrow." 
 
 " Home ? " queried Qark. " Then you've found 
 your people? " 
 
 " I'm going to look for them. I've got the secret. 
 I know the county theyj live in," replied the cap- 
 tain. 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, for your sake an' the sake 
 of your people; but I'm sorry for myself, an' that's 
 a fact," said Clark. Just then he noticed the man 
 by the hearth. 
 
 "What is your pleasure, sir?" he asked. 
 
 " I am quite comfortable, thank you," replied 
 the stranger, without turning. 
 
 "If you want food, or drink hot or cold, pull that 
 bell, sir, an' one of the lads will come to you," said
 
 234 Captain Love 
 
 Clark. Then, taking Love by the elbow, " Come 
 along with me, colonel," he whispered. 
 
 " I can stay for only a few minutes. I'm pressed 
 for time, Joe," replied the captain. " My mare's 
 at the door and I must hurry back to town." 
 
 " But you'll say a word to the lass. She has a 
 heart full of gratitude for you, sir, though she is not 
 the kind to talk much about it," said Clark. 
 
 They found the young woman in the private 
 parlour, seated very disconsolately with a book in 
 her lap and her eyes on the fire. 
 
 " Here is the colonel," said her father. At that, 
 she sprang to her feet, uttering a brief, soft cry; 
 made as if to run forward, but halted and faced him 
 with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. 
 
 The captain halted also, looking at her with some- 
 thing of regret and something of shame in his young 
 face; then, stepping forward, he lifted one of her 
 slender hands to his lips. 
 
 " Good-bye," he said. 
 
 " Good-bye ? " she repeated, in a low and ques- 
 tioning voice. 
 
 " I am going home," he said, without meeting 
 her wonderful and pitiful eyes. 
 
 " The colonel is going home to his people, 'way
 
 At the White Heron 235 
 
 up north," said Clark, in a voice none too steady and 
 of forced cheerfulness. 
 
 Then the lady pressed her hands to her eyes, 
 shifted them to her bosom, and uttered a little cry 
 of desolation. Clark strode toward her; but Love 
 caught her as she swayed. Her eyes were closed 
 and her face gleamed white as candle-wax. Dis- 
 mayed, abashed, he lifted the pliant form and car- 
 ried it to a couch by the wall. Clark brought brandy 
 and water, and loosened the front of her bodice. 
 
 " Is she dead ? God, what have I done ? " cried 
 the captain. 
 
 " Nay, lad, 'tis but a swoon," replied Clark. 
 " See, the red is coming back to her cheeks. But 
 she is not overstrong, nowadays, and that's a fact." 
 
 " What can I do for her? What can I get for 
 her? " asked the young man, desperately. Clark 
 looked up, his brows puckered but his eyes kind. 
 
 " Don't worry, lad ; women have queer ways," he 
 said. " Now ride along, sir, and God be with you." 
 
 The captain hesitated, gazing down at the still 
 and beautiful face of the woman whom he had 
 rescued from that house of horror. 
 
 " You had better go now, lad, while her eyes are 
 shut," said the innkeeper, quietly. "For she has 
 taken a liking to you you saved her from a living
 
 236 Captain Love 
 
 hell, remember and it's a hard thing to see a 
 friend ride away for ever." 
 
 An unreasonable shame and a keen pity gripped 
 the captain's heart and flushed his face. With not 
 a word at his tongue, but a jumble of unutterable 
 thoughts in his mind, he touched the woman's fore- 
 head with his hand, hesitated for a moment with his 
 eyes on her face, and then walked swiftly from the 
 room. He passed, as swiftly, through the public 
 hall, without looking to the right or left, stepped 
 out on to the frosty road, mounted, and cantered 
 townward. 
 
 The stranger beside the hearth had turned and 
 looked inquiringly after the captain. When the 
 door had closed and the ringing of the hoof-beats 
 on the iron road had died away, he got up and pulled 
 the bell which Qark had indicated to him a few 
 minutes before. A boy appeared from an inner 
 room in answer to the summons. 
 
 " Who is the gentleman who has but now ridden 
 away? " asked the stranger. 
 
 " That was Captain Love, sir," replied the boy. 
 The name meant nothing to the traveller, for he had 
 but lately returned from France, and had not been 
 in London within a space of several years. 
 
 " I want brandy, hot, with lemon and sugar," he
 
 At the White Heron 237 
 
 said; and then, as the boy turned to go, he said, 
 " Hold a minute. Is your master's name Gark?" 
 
 " Yes, sir. Joseph Clark," replied the lad. 
 
 " Does he does he still live here alone ? " 
 
 " No, sir. The young lady is home." 
 
 " The young lady," exclaimed the stranger, facing 
 squarely around and staring at the lad with a look 
 of incredulity. 
 
 " Ay, sir, the young lady the master's daugh- 
 ter," replied the boy, readily. " She was away a 
 long time," he continued, " and they do say there 
 was something queer about it queerer than the 
 master will allow. But she come home safe an* 
 sound, but kind of distracted lookin', not very long 
 ago." 
 
 " Is she married ? " asked the traveller, in a 
 voice scarce above a whisper and thin as a wind 
 under the eaves. 
 
 " That I couldn't say," answered the boy. " Some 
 hold she's a widder that she ran away to a 
 foreign country, with a young gentleman not known 
 in these parts, an' that he died an' left her without 
 a penny. Some say she never wed the gentleman 
 at all, an' that he run away from her. He'd be a 
 fool to do that, for you'd not find her match for 
 looks if you hunted a year."
 
 238 Captain Love 
 
 For several seconds the stranger continued to 
 stare at the boy as if he were fascinated. His face 
 was colourless but his eyes shone like fire. Pres- 
 ently, he said, "Why d'ye stand there gossiping? 
 Fetch the liquor, lad. Fetch the liquor." 
 
 Then he discarded his cloak, and fell to pacing 
 the floor, back and forth in front of the fire. He 
 was a man of about the captain's size and figure 
 and, though his face showed the wear of sorrow 
 and scanty living, he was evidently not more than 
 thirty years of age. His clothes fitted him to a 
 wish, but were shabby from long and rough usage. 
 He displayed his own hair, which was dark and 
 well-cared for and tied neatly. Only his great 
 boots were new ; and the linen at wrists and neck 
 was fresh and white. In place of a fashionable 
 small-sword or rapier, a military sabre dragged at 
 his left side. He walked with his head erect, his 
 eyes flashing, and his hands behind his back, clasp- 
 ing and unclasping. 
 
 "Can it be?" he murmured. "Dear God, can 
 this be true? Or do I fall again? go under the 
 blind wheels again ? " 
 
 At that moment both Clark and the boy entered, 
 the boy carrying a tray on which stood two glasses
 
 At the White Heron 239 
 
 of steaming liquor. The stranger took one and 
 Clark the other. 
 
 " You have travelled far, I take it, and have an 
 appetite for the best," said Clark. " Well, sir, this 
 is the best brandy out of France, and here's your 
 very good health." 
 
 " And yours, landlord," returned the stranger, 
 and drained the generous glass at a draught. " It 
 is good liquor," he continued. " I am but just ar- 
 rived from France, and there I tasted no better. 
 Boy, bring two more such brews. We'll drink to 
 each other again, Master Clark, for 'tis not every 
 day that a man returns, out of bitter exile, to his 
 own country." 
 
 " I will join you, sir, with all my heart ; but you 
 must excuse me for a minute or two," replied the 
 innkeeper. " My daughter is but now recovered 
 from a fainting-spell, and I must see if she requires 
 anything." 
 
 " Is she ill ? " cried the stranger, in a voice so 
 earnest and fearful that Clark turned on him with 
 both perplexity and suspicion in his glance. But be- 
 fore he could reply, the outer door flew open and, 
 preceded by a gust of frosty air, Lord Buckley 
 strode into the room. 
 
 "A devilish night," he cried. "Damme, but
 
 240 Captain Love 
 
 'twould freeze the vitals of a red Indian. Bring me 
 your best, fellow, an' bring it hot as hell an' 
 quick, too ! " 
 
 He swaggered over to the fire, flung his cloak 
 aside and again bawled for liquor, swearing all the 
 while like a pirate. The stranger stood with his 
 back to the earl and his face close to the indignant 
 countenance of the landlord. 
 
 " D'ye know that man? " he asked, very low but 
 cold as ice. 
 
 " No," cried Clark. " But though he were king 
 of this island, he'd not bawl so at me, more than 
 once. I'm a sound yeoman, I am." 
 
 " Keep cool," replied the stranger. " This is my 
 affair." 
 
 Something in his voice silenced Clark and turned 
 his mind quite away from his own independence and 
 soundness. 
 
 The stranger advanced a few paces toward the 
 earl, moving sideways a little and halting between 
 the hearth and the door. 
 
 " This is more than I have ever hoped for," he 
 said. " I have prayed for this. Draw your sword, 
 you loathly beast." 
 
 " What d'ye mean? " cried Buckley. " Who are 
 you? Why do you address me so?"
 
 At the White Heron 241 
 
 The bully was gone, and a coward stood there, 
 gaping. 
 
 " Fool, are you blind ? " retorted the stranger. 
 " Look at me. Exert your putrid wits." 
 
 " My God ! " cried the earl, and pulled out his 
 sword in a manner of hopeless desperation, like one 
 who has no choice but to fight the devil. 
 
 Something whistled in the air like a gust of hail, 
 and there gleamed the stranger's great sabre, red as 
 flame in the firelight. 
 
 " On guard," he cried, and sprang forward. By 
 what seemed a miracle, the earl turned the first 
 awful cut. For a few seconds, always shuffling 
 backward, he managed to keep out of the stranger's 
 reach and, at the same time, maintain a pretence of 
 sword-play. Then the point of the sabre tore the 
 breast of his coat. With a choking scream he 
 turned and dashed around the hall, the man with 
 the sabre close at his heels. 
 
 The earl, unable to muster courage to pause and 
 snatch open a door, fled around and around the wide 
 apartment ; and the shabby stranger tore after him, 
 flashing the great sabre and roaring for the other 
 to stop and turn and give battle. 
 
 " Hold ! " cried Clark. " Give over, you young 
 devil ! I'll have no murder in my house."
 
 242 Captain Love 
 
 The young man paid no heed, but made a slash at 
 his flying antagonist which reached one of the fat 
 shoulders. Before he could recover his balance 
 from the stroke, Clark had him tight in his long 
 arms. He struggled furiously, but hopelessly; and 
 the earl, bleeding and choking, pulled open the door 
 and dashed into the night. 
 
 " That is the man ! Why did you let him get 
 away ? " said a voice behind Clark. 
 
 Clark turned ; but the young man did not follow 
 the earl. Instead, he let his great sabre clatter to the 
 floor and looked at the young woman who stood on 
 the threshold of the inner doorway. But she was 
 looking at her father. 
 
 " What man? " asked Clark. 
 
 " The man who killed my husband," said she. 
 The innkeeper uttered an exclamation of amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 " Beatrice, Beatrice," cried the young man, softly. 
 
 The woman steadied herself against the jamb of 
 the door. Her father, puzzled and enraged, turned 
 upon the stranger. " And you ? Who the devil are 
 you ? " he roared. 
 
 The other paid no heed. " Beatrice," he cried 
 again. "Beatrice, have you forgotten me?"
 
 At the White Heron 243 
 
 " I thought you were dead," whispered the 
 woman. 
 
 The stranger's face became more haggard than 
 ever and his eyes were dimmed with fear. 
 
 " Do you wish me dead ? " he asked. 
 
 She hid her face in her hands; and Clark stood 
 staring from one to the other. 
 
 " I paid his ruffians heavily for my life and 
 they took me to France where I was close guarded 
 and 'twas but six days ago that my exile ended," 
 he said, his voice grown listless. And then, " if you 
 would have it so if the memory is dead in your 
 heart I will go back," he added, slowly. At that, 
 she began to weep, leaning there with her face be- 
 tween her hands, and her hands pressed against the 
 frame of the doorway. This was surely beyond any 
 woman's fortitude ! Here stood the man whom she 
 had once loved and whom she had long ceased 
 to mourn. But she had learned many lessons. It 
 would be no great matter, perhaps, to learn to care 
 for him again. There had been a brief season 
 God pity her when even the vile Buckley had not 
 been repulsed. She had only learned to hate him 
 for his cruelty for his personal violence and the 
 imprisonment he had enforced upon her. Had he
 
 244 Captain Love 
 
 spent money for her comfort, and taken her into the 
 world, and never struck her well, who can say ? 
 But she hated him now; and she had seen him 
 escape from just punishment. And the fine captain 
 had also ridden away. To the very last, she had 
 hoped for another turn to that affair. She had 
 made her plans when they had first ridden into 
 London together ; but Fate or something 
 stronger had played against her. Her bitter 
 reflections were disturbed by the shabby young 
 man her husband. 
 
 " For God's sake, tell me ! Have pity on me ! " 
 he cried. 
 
 " I must make the best of things as they are," 
 she thought. " I loved him, once. Perhaps that 
 that sort of love may come to me again." 
 Oh, but she was an incomparable actor. She turned 
 and moved toward him, her beautiful, wistful face 
 wet with tears. 
 
 " It is for you to be merciful," she whispered, 
 brokenly. 
 
 Ay, she could act! Sometimes she even fooled 
 herself !
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 " EXPECTANS EQUITO " 
 
 CAPTAIN LOVE, the parson, the big stranger who 
 gave his name as William Chester, and old David 
 Frunk, rode away at half-past one by the clock. The 
 young footman had gone around the corner to 
 spend something of his wages with convivial com- 
 pany, before seeking a new place. Old Tom and 
 his wife sat alone in the basement of the house, re- 
 gretting the generous captain and praying for a 
 new tenant. Two o'clock had scarcely finished 
 sounding from a near-by steeple when a great 
 coach drawn by four horses rolled up the street 
 and stopped before the door. By the time the foot- 
 man was out of the rumble, old Tom was bowing 
 on the step. 
 
 " Be this the house o' Cap'n Love? " inquired the 
 footman. 
 
 " It were, a while back," replied Tom. " But 
 he rid away half a hour aggo, with his fielder the 
 passon, the old man's man David an' a big black- 
 
 246
 
 246 Captain Love 
 
 visaged galoot what looked like a pirate an' the 
 very spit o' a ragged beggar my master fed on 
 Christmas Day." 
 
 " Rid away? Where'd he ride? " asked the foot- 
 man. At that moment the door of the coach, with 
 its arms surmounted by an earl's coronet, swung 
 open and a wonderful pale-faced gentleman in a 
 black wig and snuff-coloured coat looked out. His 
 anxious eyes dwelt inquiringly upon the walnut 
 countenance of old Tom. 
 
 " Is not your master at home ? " he inquired. 
 
 " Axin' your lordship's parding," stammered 
 Tom, " the capting rid off a half-hour ago, with 
 Parson Love, me lord, who come here only yester- 
 day hisself, a-lookin' for him." 
 
 The gentleman's brow wrinkled with perplexity. 
 
 "And was Lord Verton with them?" he asked. 
 
 " There were a fine, large, dark- faced gentleman 
 with 'em, your lordship," replied Tom. 
 
 " Lord Verton is young and slender," said the 
 nobleman in the carriage, with despair in his voice. 
 
 The old caretaker hobbled nearer and gazed def- 
 erentially into the other's face. 
 
 " Would your lordship be any relation to the cap- 
 ting? " he asked. 
 
 " No," said the gentleman, shortly. Then, after
 
 " Expectans Equito " 247 
 
 a moment's reflection "Why do you ask?" he 
 inquired. 
 
 " The capting's got your lordship's eyes an' your 
 lordship's mouth, your lordship," replied Tom. 
 " Ay," he cried, " an' your lordship's hands." 
 
 " Impossible," exclaimed the other, " Captain 
 Love has blue eyes light blue. His hand is short 
 and broad. His mouth nay, his mouth, I think, 
 is straighter than mine." 
 
 Old Tom eyed him shrewdly. Something of 
 David Frunk's remark concerning the captain re- 
 curred to him. " Would Lord Verton be slim an' 
 quick, your lordship? always ready to give a 
 poor man a crown an' a bully a kick with your 
 lordship's permission?" he asked. 
 
 " Ay, generous and brave," replied the gentleman, 
 " with a taste for fine clothing and new books, and 
 all that is gentle and lovely." 
 
 Tom looked steadily at the great man. 
 
 " The capting be young," he said, slowly, " an' 
 dark of eye; he be quick of hand an' heart; he 
 be brave as a lion ; he be full of rhymes an' books; 
 he be dressed like a prince every day o' the week." 
 
 " Then there is some mistake," said the noble- 
 man, wearily, " for the Captain Love who is my 
 son's friend is squarely built and past forty years
 
 248 Captain Love 
 
 of age. Your description, my good man, is of my 
 son though God alone knows the meaning of 
 that." 
 
 " Ay, your lordship," whispered Tom, " it be 
 surely of your son, whatever his name may be. 
 The riddle's not for the likes o' me to read, your 
 lordship ; but they has gone northward the young 
 gentleman who was my master, the old gentleman 
 who came a-lookin' for his son the capting, the 
 man-servant who looked clean mazed at what he 
 found, an' the big, hawk-faced gentleman with a 
 sword like a scythe." 
 
 The nobleman leaned forward and caught the old 
 fellow by the arm. In his face shone hope, dread 
 and bewilderment. 
 
 " For God's sake," he cried, " tell me what you 
 mean." 
 
 Tom drew a paper from his pocket and handed 
 it to the other. It was a deed of the captain's bed- 
 stead, silver candlesticks, table and chairs, which 
 that generous youth had given to the old servitor 
 as a parting remembrance. 
 
 " 'Tis Harry's writing," cried the nobleman. 
 " 'Tis my son's handwriting." 
 
 For a moment strength seemed to leave him and 
 he fell back against the cushions of the seat ; where-
 
 " Expectans Equito " 249 
 
 upon his companion, a small, dry old man, in the 
 twinkling of an eye produced a silver flask. But 
 the solicitous hand was pushed aside without apol- 
 ogy; and the nobleman stepped from the coach to 
 the cobblestones, patted old Tom on the back and 
 cried : 
 
 " If you would have this riddle read, and that 
 right speedily, house these cattle, an' this great, 
 new-fangled coach, that is but little swifter than 
 a plough, and buy me four fresh horses with sad- 
 dles." 
 
 Within the half-hour the noble- Earl of North- 
 rend, the two lusty postilions and the footman 
 sprang to their saddles and rode away. The dry, 
 little old gentleman, who gave his name as Mr. 
 Crinklethrope, was left behind, with the coach and 
 road-weary horses, in the care of Tom and his dame. 
 
 " Dang it all, sir," cried Tom, as he brought up 
 some wine which the captain had left behind, and 
 opened it for his new guest, " it do beat all I've 
 ever see in eighty years come Easter. Here be two 
 gentlemen an' one an earl a-lookin' for their 
 lost sons. An' there be only one son." 
 
 " I cannot so much as guess at what the viscount 
 has been about," remarked Mr. Crinklethrope. 
 " And as for Captain Love why, surely he was
 
 250 Captain Love 
 
 able to take care of himself, even in London. Dear 
 me, dear me, such things were not allowed when 
 I was young. I sincerely hope his lordship will not 
 forget us and leave me to die of homesickness in 
 this roaring town." 
 
 Tom poured the wine, and passed the glass with 
 a bow. 
 
 " Have no fear, sir," he said, absently. " Not 
 even a duke would forget they fine horses an' that 
 there great coach." 
 
 And now to return to the gentleman whose ad- 
 ventures and emotions are as the limbs and heart 
 of this narrative. With his past before him (para- 
 doxical as it may sound) he pressed eagerly on his 
 journey. He bestrode the same long-gaited gray 
 on which he had entered London the beast he 
 had taken from the highwayman. The parson 
 jogged along at his right hand, urging his fat steed 
 to an unusual pace, and Chester rode heavily on the 
 left. David Frunk thumped and groaned in the 
 rear, complaining of the frost that gnawed at his 
 bones, the saddle that galled him, and his master's 
 madness that depressed his soul. 
 
 " If we had stayed at home," he muttered, " like 
 enough nothin' would hev happened to Master Jack. 
 He'd hev come home sound an' hearty, like he's done
 
 " Expectans Equito " 251 
 
 many a time afore. Them as rides out to seek 
 trouble bes sure to find it. An' what's to become 
 o' Dodwater, I'd like to know?" 
 
 The mare stumbled slightly and the jolt of her 
 recovery rattled the old man's jaws. 
 
 " Dang it," he grumbled, " if Bess herself don't 
 see the foolishness of it, a-chasin' off to God-knows- 
 where with two fellows we never set eyes on afore. 
 They be both robbers, I vum. I don't trust that 
 young chap no farther nor Bess could kick 'im. The 
 passon always were mighty soft wi' strangers." 
 
 In front, the three gentlemen rode knee to knee, 
 oblivious to David Frank's complaints and insults. 
 The good parson was silent, deep in gloomy medi- 
 tations. Saddle and spur and the chances of the 
 road meant nothing to him now. His eyes were 
 blind to the sights that had filled him with interest 
 and amazement so short a time before. He did not 
 feel the cold. He took no heed to either the frozen 
 way beneath his horse's hoofs or the blue sky over- 
 head. Twice he pulled off his glove and looked at 
 the ring that had been his son's and which his son's 
 friend had returned to him. 
 
 " Expectans equito," he read, and reflected that 
 his long- forgotten ancestor had voiced the secret of 
 mortal life in those two words. " ' Waiting, I ride '
 
 252 Captain Love 
 
 Ay, and though the body may tire and forsake 
 the quest, the heart must ever spur along until the 
 last road be travelled and the last adventure accom- 
 plished. Ahd the last adventure is death. And 
 then, by the mercy of God, waiting and riding are 
 at an end." 
 
 The captain had a glow in his cheeks and eyes. 
 His pulses leapt with high expectations. The cold 
 wind was sweet in his nostrils, and the frozen world 
 a paradise of wonderful possibilities in his vision. 
 Who can blame him if, for the time, both the par- 
 son's sorrow and the death of his unremembered 
 friend were forgotten? The youth of a man owes 
 something to the inevitable fireside days to come. 
 If he walk ever as a mourner when his boots are on 
 his feet and his sword at his side, how are battles 
 to be won and the world's work accomplished, and 
 how then is he to hearten his children's children 
 when age has him by the knees. This life may be 
 but one stage of a long journey; then accomplish 
 it with distinction for will the whole be any 
 worse if a part of it be well done. The life of a 
 man who spends his days in lamenting the futility 
 of this world's affairs the life of one who sits 
 and waits is not worth risking for a friend or 
 a cause. He who lives bravely dies bravely, and
 
 " Expectans Equito " 253 
 
 steps into the Unknown with the support of a tested 
 courage; and to those whom he leaves behind his 
 memory is a battle-cry rather than a lamentation. 
 
 The captain rode on, with youth and hope afire 
 in his veins. His misfortunes were forgotten. He 
 explained his unusual position to Mr. Chester, ask- 
 ing no confidences in return. Then his brain busied 
 itself with picturing the home-coming for he en- 
 tertained no doubt of being able to find his people 
 and his eyes were alert to recognize every house 
 and clustered village that he had noticed on his 
 journey from Null wood Lower Farm to London. 
 
 Mr. Chester was almost as quiet as the parson. 
 He had attached himself to this company to serve 
 his own ends and partly because of his sudden 
 liking for the captain. He had seen that their af- 
 fairs were under a cloud and had jumped at the 
 conclusion that the cloud was of their own making. 
 Such was the natural conclusion for one of Mr. 
 Chester's past to jump at. But now, finding them 
 to be honest and respectable gentlemen, the par- 
 son a real parson and the captain a model of inno- 
 cence, for all his dash, he was slightly discon- 
 certed. He had hoped ( for even a guilty conscience 
 longs for the company of its kind) to learn that the 
 young man had, at the very least, fleeced half the
 
 254 Captain Love 
 
 gentlemen of London under the protection of a well- 
 considered disguise, and that the old man had played 
 the accomplice. To hear that they were guilty of 
 nothing save misfortunes made his own case appear 
 unusually hopeless and black in his mind's eye. His 
 crimes were real crimes. He had sinned against 
 the laws of God and man ; and though he had per- 
 formed a few brave and generous actions during his 
 career, how were they to counterbalance the cruel 
 and the dishonest in the scales of even that most 
 merciful of all judges? If, instead of riding with 
 two honest gentlemen on an honest quest, he were 
 now hanging by his neck, 'twould be no more than 
 his due. He had taken toll of the high seas and 
 the queen's highway, and not always in the gentlest 
 manner. He had disgraced a good name of his own 
 and many a name to which he had taken a whim. 
 Well, this one of Chester was new to him at any 
 rate, and he would see how clean he could keep it. 
 But 'tis little wonder that his mood was dark and 
 bitter, and that he looked forward to a prolonged 
 association with his present companions with pangs 
 of apprehension and self-condemnation. 
 
 The travellers kept their horses to so smart a pace 
 that, a few hours after sunset, they arrived at Null- 
 wood Lower Farm.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 A BUSY NIGHT 
 
 SNOW was beginning to fall in soft, whirling 
 flakes when the four riders drew rein close to the 
 farmhouse door. Mr. Chester leaned forward and 
 thumped the panel with the hilt of his sword. A 
 lattice opened above the group, and a metallic click 
 caused David Frunk to slide from his saddle and 
 crawl under the belly of his mare. 
 
 " Ye'll get nothin' here, me fine lads," said the 
 voice of Farmer Holt from the upper darkness, 
 " unless ye be after what a spark from this flint 
 will give ye. Now be off about yer business, 
 double-quick. This here blunderbuss be loaded like 
 a cannon, an' if ye wants three pewter spoons an' 
 all the buttons off me Sunday coat in yer carcasses, 
 jes' bide where ye be until I takes a fair squint an* 
 pulls the trigger." 
 
 " Stay your hand, good fellow," cried the cap- 
 tain. " We are honest travellers seeking a night's 
 lodging." 
 
 265
 
 256 Captain Love 
 
 The farmer chuckled. 
 
 " Ay, to be sure," he replied, " but if ye don't 
 move on there'll surely be one or two honest trav- 
 ellers the less an' this road a deal safer to ride 
 along, I'll swear." 
 
 " My good friend," said the parson, " I cannot 
 believe you to be as heartless as you sound." 
 
 " Master Holt," cried the captain, fearing that 
 the yeoman might pull the trigger to end the argu- 
 ment, " if you don't let us in you'll not get the 
 hundred pounds I owe you." 
 
 This seemed to tickle the worthy householder's 
 sense of humour. 
 
 " Ay," said he, " a hunder pounds with a cudgel. 
 I learned that fable when I were a toddler." 
 
 " Nay, in honest gold," replied the captain. 
 
 "Then what be yer name?" asked the farmer, 
 leaning from the window. 
 
 " I've not found it yet," said the other, quietly, 
 " but, as I'm on the fair road to it, I'll pay you the 
 hundred pounds even now." 
 
 " Be ye truly that young gentleman I picked out 
 o' the ditch?" 
 
 " Ay, truly, good William." 
 
 " An' ye hasn't learned yer name yet ? " 
 
 " Nay, good friend."
 
 A Busy Night 257 
 
 " Then how'd ye come by the money ? Has ye 
 turned highwayman?" 
 
 " Enough, fellow," cried the captain. " Come 
 down and open the door or I'll jump my horse 
 through the thatch." 
 
 Holt was impressed. 
 
 " But I'll make so bold as to bring me blunder- 
 bust down with me," he said, as he withdrew from 
 the window of the loft. 
 
 The snow fell thick and fast, draping the clus- 
 tered horsemen in white. David Frank, reassured, 
 stood at his mare's head and swore he'd never been 
 so disrespectfully treated before in all his long life. 
 The captain dismounted and bent his ear to the 
 door. He heard what sounded like the dragging 
 about of a heavy piece of furniture far back in the 
 room. Then footsteps advanced cautiously and a 
 bolt was softly withdrawn. The footsteps retreated 
 with less caution and more haste. Then, "Open 
 the door," shouted the farmer from within. 
 
 " Have a care, lad," whispered the parson, trying 
 to force himself in front of the captain; but the 
 captain pushed the old man gently out of the way 
 of possible danger, kicked open the door and stepped 
 across the threshold. 
 
 The only light in the low-ceilinged kitchen came
 
 258 Captain Love 
 
 from a tallow dip which had been placed on a stool 
 close to the door. The captain paused, glancing 
 uneasily from one shadowy corner to another. 
 
 " I be here behind the settle," said the voice of 
 William Holt, " with me blunderbust pointed fair 
 at yer honour's head. I don't mean to be un- 
 friendly, sir, but I owes it to me wife an' darter 
 to be a trifle forehanded in the matter o' caution. 
 One at a time is all I ax an' each gentleman to 
 hold the glim to his face, so as I can take a squint 
 at 'im." 
 
 " "Pis a low way to treat an old friend, William," 
 said the young man, good-naturedly. 
 
 For a second he gazed over at the bulky settle; 
 then, lifting the candlestick to a level with his face, 
 he removed his hat. The light fell clearly on the 
 fine-cut features and dark eyes framed in the im- 
 posing periwig, and illumined the commanding fig- 
 ure, the great cloak and high boots, and the gleam- 
 ing sword-hilt. 
 
 " Set down the light, yer honour, an' step right 
 in," cried William Holt. " Dang me eyes, yer lord- 
 ship, but I were only jokin', an' I pray ye to forgive 
 me. Ho! ho! but that were a fine story T telled ye 
 about the blunderbust. Why, yer honour, I'd as lief 
 shoot at me gran'mother, if she weren't already
 
 A Busy Night 259 
 
 dead, as p'int a weepin at yer lordship." He ap- 
 peared from behind the settle, empty-handed and 
 insufficiently attired. " I'll set the women to gettin' 
 supper for yer honours," he continued, " an' then 
 I'll stable the horses." 
 
 The dame and her daughter soon bustled about 
 the room, and the four travellers, with cloaks and 
 hats laid aside, warmed themselves at the newly 
 lighted fire. Holt, in garments hastily donned, went 
 out to attend to the horses. 
 
 The women were too flustered, what with pride, 
 astonishment and consternation at thought of the 
 late reception, to address anything but curtsies to 
 the company. Could the wonderful gentleman in 
 the beautiful clothes, who smiled upon them so en- 
 gagingly while he warmed his back at the fire, be 
 the poor young man whom they had nursed and fed 
 and watched depart in a labourer's smock? The 
 idea was overpowering. The dame remembered 
 certain freedoms of speech and the girl certain 
 dreams, with consternation. The gentleman must 
 be a duke at least. To hide their embarrassment, 
 they piled and piled the table with the contents of 
 larder and cellar. 
 
 Suddenly the young man stepped over to the set- 
 tle and produced the farmer's blunderbuss.
 
 260 Captain Love 
 
 " I'll just put a new load in this," said he, ad- 
 vancing to an end of the table that was not entirely 
 covered by food. 
 
 The women and his companions watched him in 
 silence as he thrust a knife down the bell-mouth of 
 the ponderous weapon. A wad of paper was soon 
 extracted. Turning the gun muzzle down, he 
 thumped it on the board until the pewter spoons, 
 hammered into slugs, and the brass buttons, made 
 their appearance. Then, taking two neat bags of 
 canvas from under his coat, he cut them open and 
 quickly poured their contents into the brass muzzle, 
 and rammed home the wad of paper. He had 
 scarce finished this curious performance when the 
 farmer returned from his task with the horses. 
 
 The yeoman changed colour when he saw the 
 blunderbuss in the gentleman's hands. 
 
 " William," said the captain, sternly, " I'm sorry 
 to discover you in a lie; for what were you doing 
 with this great piece of artillery behind the settle, 
 if not pointing it at me? " 
 
 " Ah, sir," cried the farmer, " the times be that 
 hard a poor man couldn't live a day without he 
 lied now an' then." 
 
 " My friend," replied the other, " your greatest 
 failing, I am convinced, is a lack of trust in your
 
 A Busy Night 261 
 
 fellow man. You were doubtful of my honesty 
 to-night until you saw the excellent quality of my 
 wig and coat. You doubted my word when I rode 
 away from you last summer. Now what will you 
 say when I tell you that I do not happen to have 
 the hundred pounds I promised you in any of my 
 pockets ? " 
 
 " Why, yer lordship," said Holt, " I'll not say 
 a word o' objection if ye'll but leave me yer pistols 
 for a sign o' good faith. Ay, sir, yer word be good 
 enough for me." 
 
 " My pistols ! " cried the gentleman, in well- 
 feigned anger. " Fellow, they are the best that 
 ever were made in London. Would you ask for 
 my pistols and let me go unarmed at the risk of my 
 life? Maybe you'd like my wig and my hat also, 
 Master Insolence." 
 
 Every one but the farmer stared in amazement 
 at the captain. Holt, cautious soul, was torn be- 
 tween his greed and the fear that he might mor- 
 tally offend this fine guest. The gentleman had 
 surely joked when he said, outside, that he had not 
 yet come to his own. Could a man be nameless 
 and without estate, and yet go attired like that an- 
 cient Scriptural king in all his glory? Nay, he 
 could not believe it.
 
 262 Captain Love 
 
 " Noble sir," he whined, " though I be a poor 
 man an' mightily in need o' money, I swear I were 
 only jokin' when I axed ye to leave me the pretty 
 pistols." 
 
 " Very good," replied the captain. " Now let 
 us get to table." 
 
 Mr. Chester, with a diffidence that did not tally 
 with his appearance, made as if to seat himself at 
 the lower end of the board, with David Frunk; 
 but the parson and the captain clutched him, each 
 by an elbow, at the same moment. So he lifted his 
 great sabre to his knees and squatted on a stool 
 between them. The farmer, with something of his 
 old self-assurance returned to him, sat down oppo- 
 site the gentlemen, urged them to eat and drink, set 
 them an example to follow in both performances, 
 and praised the dishes and the home-brewed as if 
 he were a guest. 
 
 The company had been about twenty minutes at 
 table, when a sudden clatter on the outer door 
 brought every man to his feet. 
 
 " Open to his lordship the Earl of Northrend," 
 cried a voice. 
 
 The farmer grabbed up his blunderbuss. 
 
 " All me fine friends are visitin' me to-night,"
 
 A Busy Night 263 
 
 he said, grinning ; then he roared : " Ye've a won- 
 derful common-soundin' voice for a earl, me lad." 
 
 " I be his lordship's coachman," shouted back 
 the unseen traveller. " Come, pull back your bolt 
 or ye'll find your cabin about your ears." 
 
 The farmer swore and raised his great forearm 
 to his shoulder, presenting the bell-mouthed muzzle 
 at the door. The captain sprang forward and seized 
 his wrist. 
 
 " Are you mad ? " he cried. " D'ye take every 
 one who comes to your door for a robber ? " 
 
 " More likely a robber nor a earl," growled the 
 farmer. 
 
 Without further argument the captain wrenched 
 the gun from his hands and stood it against the 
 wall. At the same moment Mr. Chester advanced 
 boldly and unfastened and opened the door. An 
 eddy of damp snowflakes blew into the room. The 
 man at the threshold a great fellow in livery 
 glanced quickly around the kitchen and withdrew. 
 Immediately a tall gentleman fairly encased in the 
 clinging white of the storm entered and confronted 
 the farmer, Chester having retired to the hearth. 
 He removed his hat, shook it free of its burden of 
 snow, and returned it to his head.
 
 264 Captain Love 
 
 " Sirrah," he cried, " I am not accustomed to 
 being kept on the cold side of any man's door." 
 
 Catching sight of the farmer's dame, he again 
 doffed his hat, and, this time, bowed gravely. 
 
 The dame bobbed an unsteady curtsey. 
 
 " You must teach your good man better manners, 
 my dear," said Lord Northrend. He turned to the 
 open door. 
 
 " Jugg 8 * bring in the wounded robber," he or- 
 dered, " and let the others attend to the horses." 
 
 At that the big fellow in livery entered the room, 
 carrying a full-grown man, in boots and spurs, in 
 his arms. 
 
 Holt's anger got the better of his discretion. 
 
 " This bain't no tavern," he cried. " It be a 
 private farmhouse." 
 
 " No tavern, say you," exclaimed the earl. 
 " Then how comes it you keep such genteel com- 
 pany ? " 
 
 He looked at Mr. Chester. With a slight start 
 he turned and eyed the parson. He started for- 
 ward, as if seeking some one, and his glance found 
 out the captain, who was standing in the shadow of 
 the chimney. 
 
 "Harry," he cried. "My God, is it Harry?" 
 
 And there he stood, his haughty face suddenly
 
 A Busy Night 265 
 
 melted to tenderness, his eyes gleaming, his hands 
 outstretched and trembling. 
 
 The captain moved forward one hesitating step, 
 his eyes on the other's eyes, his cheeks and lips 
 gray as the ashes on the hearth. He tried to speak, 
 but no sound came from him. The earl's expres- 
 sion changed. Fear, anger and pain moved, like 
 shadows, across his eager visage. 
 
 " What has happened ? " he cried, huskily. 
 " Harry, Harry, are you ashamed to welcome 
 me?" 
 
 The captain pressed his hand to his side. 
 
 " Are you my father ? " he whispered. " Dear 
 God, I cannot remember." 
 
 Then, with a faint cry, he reeled and fell into 
 the parson's ready arms. 
 
 In an instant the kitchen became a scene of con- 
 fusion. The women and Lord Northrend's coach- 
 man dashed away for water, the women to an- 
 other room, the coachman out to a well before the 
 door. The earl and the parson bent over the un- 
 conscious youth, one unfastening the collar of his 
 riding-coat, the other chafing the limp hands. 
 
 " The poor, poor lad," babbled the parson. 
 " Ah, my lord, you were too sudden with him 
 too sharp with him."
 
 266 Captain Love 
 
 " God knows I meant no harm, sir," replied the 
 earl, humbly. And then : " I'm blind ! I'm a fool ! 
 I do not understand," he exclaimed, in a broken 
 whisper. 
 
 By the door, on a low stool, sat the wounded 
 highwayman whom the coachman had carried into 
 the room. His hands were tied. A bullet had 
 broken his leg. Mr. Chester stood near him. 
 
 " Ah, Bill," said the prisoner, " ye've fared bet- 
 ter nor me." 
 
 " Not so loud," whispered Chester. He stooped 
 close to the other. 
 
 " Did you try to stop the earl and his party ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 The robber nodded. 
 
 " I thought you were living honestly," said 
 Chester. 
 
 " I tried to," replied the fellow. " I had a little 
 farm in Kent; but I got into trouble with the 
 squire, an' the lawyers skinned me. I've seen pi- 
 rates on land an' at sea, Bill, but never such pirates 
 as they danged lawyers." 
 
 " Guard your tongue, lad, and I'll get you clear," 
 whispered Chester, and opened the door to admit 
 the coachman with a bucket of water, followed by 
 two more of his lordship's servants.
 
 A Busy Night 267 
 
 The captain opened his eyes full upon the tender 
 and apprehensive face of the earl. 
 
 " I remember now," he whispered. " My heart 
 remembers." 
 
 " Ah, if your heart remembers," replied North- 
 rend, softly; and, stooping, he pressed his lips to 
 his son's forehead.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 MR. CHESTER'S CHANGE OF PLANS 
 
 AT last the farmhouse sank to an outer sem- 
 blance of repose. The fanner and his wife and 
 daughter ascended to the upper floor. The Earl 
 of Northrend, Viscount Verton and Parson Love 
 retired to the guest-chamber, the very room in 
 which the viscount, months before, had been 
 nursed back to life and consciousness. Mr. Ches- 
 ter, David Frunk, and the wounded highwayman 
 wrapped themselves in their cloaks and lay down 
 by the kitchen hearth. The earl's servants sought 
 repose in a snug room above the granary. 
 
 There was so much to tell and hear so much 
 of pity and joy and wonder to shake the heart 
 that the gentlemen in the guest-chamber kept 
 awake until long past midnight. The parson, brave 
 soul, had begun to tell Harry's story, to save the 
 hero from the exertion. In the middle of it North- 
 rend had clutched the old gentleman's hands in his 
 and had begged him to go no further. 
 
 268
 
 Mr. Chester's Change of Plans 269 
 
 " You have already paid the price of our joy," 
 he said, gently. 
 
 " And for that, I share it with you," replied the 
 parson; but tears blinded him then, and he turned 
 aside and hid his face in his hands. 
 
 The viscount told of many of his adventures and 
 misadventures to his father, but said nothing of 
 Dorothy Petre. He asked a hundred questions of 
 his home, of his mother, of his past life, of the 
 dead friend with whom he had set out for London 
 
 and the earl answered them all. 
 
 " But you ask nothing of Julia," said North- 
 rend. 
 
 "Of Julia?" queried the youth, wrinkling his 
 brow. " Then have I a sister, sir? " 
 
 " Can it be ? " exclaimed the earl. " Can it be 
 that even Julia is forgotten? " 
 
 " Is it that the fever covered my memory over, 
 as if with a film," pondered the viscount, " or is 
 it wiped entirely away? I have not lost my schol- 
 arship and much trivial knowledge has remained 
 with me." Then, speaking : " But why, sir, do 
 you expect me to remember this lady this Julia 
 
 when your face was lost to me, and the face of 
 my mother, and the face of my comrade ? " 
 
 The earl smiled.
 
 270 Captain Love 
 
 " Might not the heart hold a picture, though it 
 were broken in the mind ? " he asked, softly. 
 
 " Nay," began the youth, then hesitated. 
 
 "Who is she?" he whispered, " that my heart 
 should hold her face and forget those of my par- 
 ents?" 
 
 " Who is Julia," replied the father, as if he 
 could scarce believe the sincerity of such a ques- 
 tion. "Who is Julia? Why, Harry, she is my 
 ward my old friend's daughter. There was a 
 time, lad, ah, you were writing vastly pretty 
 rhymes to this same Julia not long ago." 
 
 " Rhymes ! " said the viscount, blushing. " Ah, 
 sir, I think my rhymes are scarcely to be depended 
 upon. I made a whole book of them in London 
 and, alas, I promised the printers another vol- 
 ume." 
 
 The other's thoughts were still on the past. 
 
 " It seemed no callow loving to us," he said. 
 " She was the toast of the county ay, and had 
 seen London and you had travelled on the Con- 
 tinent. Then, I think, something went amiss. 
 She lost colour and you set out for London with 
 poor Jack." 
 
 " I cannot remember," said the viscount, with 
 his head in his hands.
 
 Mr. Chester's Change of Plans 271 
 
 In the kitchen David Frunk slept soundly, 
 though his couch was the floor. He could not have 
 snored with more abandonment of repose had he 
 been snug 1 in Holt's own feather bed. Mr. Chester 
 lay very still for a long time, thinking hard. Would 
 a man be wise in changing his mode of life too 
 suddenly in flying completely from one extreme 
 to another? Had he not better mend his ways 
 gradually, testing each step and mastering each 
 degree of virtue, so that, in the end, he could un- 
 dertake the responsibilities of honest citizenship 
 with assurance, with such an appreciation of his 
 position as a colonel must have who has risen from 
 the ranks? The idea pleased him; and he decided 
 that, as for two years he had shed no blood, so, 
 for a certain period, he would take toll from none 
 but the rich and that in the most gentle manner. 
 During the next stage of improvement he would 
 confine himself to the practice of law, for which 
 his youthful studies had qualified him; and, in 
 time, he would retire to private life with a com- 
 petency. 
 
 David Frunk's snoring had become as inevitable 
 as the roar of surf on a reef, when Chester at last 
 crawled over to the wounded highwayman. After 
 a whispered consultation, they crept to the door,
 
 272 Captain Love 
 
 with their boots in their hands. The robber went 
 at a snail's pace, his face twisted with pain. At 
 the door, Chester paused, returned to the other 
 side of the room, and, leaning across David Frunk, 
 possessed himself of Farmer Holt's blunderbuss. 
 A puzzled query at the threshold a sage wag of 
 Chester's head for reply; then a sudden icy breath 
 across the room, a soft thud of wood on wood, 
 and David Frunk snored on, alone, in the kitchen. 
 
 Snow lay deep on the ground, but the sky was 
 clear. 
 
 " Hold the gun," said Chester to Bill, after the 
 two had drawn on their boots. Then he lifted his 
 comrade in his arms, blunderbuss and all, and car- 
 ried him across the yard to the stables. Ten min- 
 utes later, two cloaked figures, mounted on horses 
 that made no noise in the snow, passed softly be- 
 hind the ricks and outbuildings and headed across 
 country. 
 
 There was a great outcry in the morning when 
 Farmer Holt, early astir, made the discovery that 
 Mr. Chester and the wounded highwayman were 
 gone, and with them the robber's steed and a fine 
 bay gelding of the farmer's own breeding. 
 
 " Dang my eyes," he cried, " but there was a 
 rare fine gentleman, for sure, a-ridin' with dooks
 
 Mr. Chester's Change of Plans 273 
 
 an' parsons. Why didn't he take the horse he 
 come on, I'd like to know ? " 
 
 He rolled a suspicious eye on the earl's coach- 
 man. 
 
 " I smells the reason of it," he cried " the 
 reason for that fine, black- faced pirate o' a gen- 
 tleman to ride away on my pretty gelding an' leave 
 his own old screw behind." 
 
 "An' what be that reason, master?" inquired 
 the earl's coachman. 
 
 " Ye all be fine play actors," replied Holt furi- 
 ously, " an' I, for one, don't believe ye have a 
 honest man nor a gentleman among ye. Where 
 be the hunder pounds that there young cock prom- 
 ised me? An' where be my pretty geldin', an' him 
 out o' Queen Sheebee by Dook o' York ? " 
 
 " Ye've a low, suspicious mind, Master What's- 
 yer-name," replied the coachman; and, catching 
 up a stirrup leather from the floor, he warmed the 
 farmer's hide until the roars of that narrow- 
 minded rustic awoke the household. 
 
 The footman and the postilion were the first 
 to reach the scene of action; but they had scarce 
 settled themselves on the edge of a manger to en- 
 joy the entertainment in comfort, when Mistress 
 Holt dashed through the doorway. For a moment
 
 274 Captain Love 
 
 she stared in dismay. Then she cried, " Willyum 
 Holt, what d'ye mean by gettin' into trouble with 
 the nobleman's gentleman, when ye be dressed in 
 your best shirt an' breeches? An' were ye a-goin' 
 to milk they cows in them clothes ? " 
 
 The coachman threw down the strap and with- 
 drew his hand from the gaffer's collar. 
 
 " I hope I've not spoiled his fine clothin', dame," 
 he said. 
 
 At that moment the earl, the viscount and the 
 parson appeared in the doorway. 
 
 "What is the trouble?" inquired the earl. 
 
 " This fellow named your lordship for a high- 
 wayman, your lordship," replied the coachman. 
 
 " And did you beat him, Hipshaw, while his 
 wife was looking on ? " cried Northrend. 
 
 " Nay, sir. She but just come in," answered the 
 servant. 
 
 Holt gave an account of the theft and the escape ; 
 and though he guarded his tongue, it was evident 
 that he still suspected the honesty of his guests. 
 
 " Here are ten guineas to pay you for the loss 
 of your gelding," said the earl, counting the golden 
 coins into the fellow's hand. He was in far too 
 thankful a frame of mind to take exception to so 
 small a matter as the farmer's persistent rudeness.
 
 Mr. Chester's Change of Plans 275 
 
 " And the money I promised you, good William, 
 is in your old blunderbuss," said the viscount. " I 
 put it there last night, intending to play a harmless 
 joke on you." 
 
 The farmer's jaw fell and his eyes protruded. 
 
 " An' that's stole, too, along with me pretty 
 gelding," he cried "an 5 here I be beat to a lather 
 into the bargain." 
 
 The earl tossed him a full purse, and turned 
 away. 
 
 The parson nudged the viscount. 
 
 " Was it money you poured into the great 
 gun? " he asked. 
 
 "Ay, sir," said Harry. "And I am glad the 
 poor devils took it," he added. 
 
 The parson nodded reflectively. 
 
 " And may God turn them from their evil 
 ways," he murmured.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 JULIA 
 
 PARSON LOVE refused to continue the journey 
 along the road to Northumberland. He had served 
 his dead son's friend as far as lay in his power; 
 and now his duties at Dodwater, and the familiar 
 faces of his own people, called to him. He longed 
 for his narrow study, with its dusty books and 
 shabby chair; for the little church, and for the 
 Sunday afternoons of quiet companionship with 
 his brother-in-law, the squire. They would narrate 
 (as they had been doing these many years) kindly 
 and tender anecdotes of mutual friends and rela- 
 tives whom death had taken ; but now, in addition, 
 there would be little stories of Jack to tell and nod 
 over of his first ride to hounds, of his first scars 
 won in battle. And thus, by two old gentlemen 
 seated in the midst of their dreams and faith and 
 kindly memories, death would seem no more than 
 a present separation, to be mended, all in God's 
 good time, by a short and easy journey. 
 
 276
 
 Julia 277 
 
 So the Reverend John Love bade his friends 
 farewell and, with the faithful but bewildered 
 David, started back towards London. There he 
 would meet the squire, by appointment ; and thence 
 home to Dodwater. And not a twinge of envy for 
 the earl's joy assailed that brave old heart nor 
 yet a shadow of doubt as to the mercy and loving- 
 kindness of the God whom he served. 
 
 Northrend's party pressed forward, keeping to 
 their saddles all day and passing each night in 
 whatever house or inn lay nearest to hand at sunset. 
 
 It was on a Sunday morning that they skirted 
 the quiet village, by way of muddy lanes, and won 
 to the great park. The viscount looked about him 
 with eager eyes. He contemplated the ranked 
 oaks and clustered firs, the sturdy green of holly 
 in the underbrush and the dappled sides of the 
 deer in the coverts and tears dimmed his sight. 
 
 " I can remember none of it," he whispered to 
 his father. 
 
 For answer, the earl put out his hand and patted 
 the knee so close to his own, for they rode stirrup 
 to stirrup. 
 
 The weather had softened, and sodden leaves 
 lay bare underfoot, and a whisper of trickling
 
 278 Captain Love 
 
 waters sounded from the timber on either side of 
 the way. Small, sombre-hued birds chirped and 
 flitted through the high tracery of branches. At 
 last they came in sight of a wing of the great 
 house. With every step, the woods receded from 
 either hand and the view widened, and presently 
 they saw the whole of that noble and time-stained 
 mansion, set commandingly above its terraced gar- 
 dens. At that the earl again leaned from his saddle 
 and put out his hand. There were tears in his 
 eyes, so strange are the ways of the emotions. 
 
 " Welcome home, lad," he said. 
 
 At the base of the lower terrace the road swept 
 around on either side; but the home-comers, with 
 the two gentlemen ahead, urged their horses 
 straight up the slope of sward. Harry's eyes were 
 on the house above. He saw nothing of the sculp- 
 tured nymphs past which he rode. He gave no 
 heed to the borders of rare shrubs scarred by the 
 hoofs of his gray. 
 
 A groom appeared at the northern corner of the 
 house, stared a second, and then shouted and tossed 
 his hat in the air. A bell clanged crazily from 
 somewhere out of sight. The great doors flew 
 open, and a fat old man in livery waved his arms
 
 Julia 279 
 
 frantically from the top of the steps, and then 
 skipped back into the shadowy mouth of the hall. 
 It seemed to the viscount that all the world held 
 its breath for the time it took him to spur up the 
 slope of the second terrace. He was conscious of 
 his father's great roan close at his knee, and of 
 dogs leaping and yelping on all sides; but eyes, 
 heart and mind were intent on the open doorway 
 of the great house. What of his lost past would 
 come through that wide portal, to claim and to be 
 claimed perhaps to touch the dead memories to 
 life? The woman who had brought him into the 
 world the gentle, tender woman of whose very 
 flesh and blood he was would appear, and surely 
 his heart would remember and leap with the old 
 love. But what of the girl ? this Julia of whom 
 his father had told him? He thought of the way 
 his heart had warmed, so lately, to the baronet's 
 sister and the young woman whom he had rescued 
 from the den of murderers and of how swiftly 
 those infatuations had dimmed and vanished. He 
 recalled the heart-aches, the longings and regrets, 
 the fluttering of the pulses, inspired by the beauty 
 and charms of these ladies. He had written verses, 
 with sincerity of spirit and fair art, to the one,
 
 280 Captain Love 
 
 and had risked his life for the other. True, he 
 would risk his life for any woman so that was 
 no great matter! But was such a heart as his to 
 be trusted to carry a love even a great love 
 across those lost years? These things flashed 
 through his mind like pictures, quick as light, even 
 while he pulled his horse to a standstill at the top 
 of the second terrace. Then a remembrance of the 
 dream came back to him, and the doubt fled. 
 
 A stirring of life awoke in the gloom of the hall 
 beyond the open door, and into view darted a lady 
 of diminutive stature, in sombre, flying skirts. 
 The small, delicate face showed the havoc of recent 
 grief, but was now alight with joy. For a mo- 
 ment she hesitated on the threshold ; then, followed 
 heavily by an expostulating old dame carrying a 
 pair of goloshes, she ran down the steps and across 
 the wet sod in her silken slippers. The earl and 
 the viscount flung themselves from their saddles 
 at the same moment; but the earl was the first 
 to catch the small lady in his arms. He held her 
 close and whispered in her ear ; and, next moment, 
 her arms were around her son's neck and her small 
 face hidden against his breast. The young man 
 clasped her to him and bent his head until his lips 
 touched her hair.
 
 Julia 281 
 
 " Mother my dear little mother," he breathed. 
 
 His heart was sure and joyful ; but his eyes and 
 his mind could not recall even so much as a hint 
 of ever having seen this little lady before. Love 
 and tenderness sprang, full-fledged, and his heart 
 accepted her without fear or question. 
 
 Presently the old dame, still scolding, drew the 
 lady from the viscount's embrace and forced the 
 goloshes over the silken slippers. 
 
 [< Ye'll catch yer death, my lady ! One would 
 think ye was old enough to know better," she mut- 
 tered. " And as for Master Harry," she added, 
 " he shouldn't be made so Vnuch of, after near 
 breakin' our hearts with his pranks." 
 
 The viscount looked again toward the doorway 
 of his ancestral home, eager, and yet half-afraid 
 for what it might disclose. There, at the top of the 
 wide steps, with the gloom of the hall framing her, 
 stood a girl looking down at him with eyes at once 
 dark and bright, glad and agleam with tears. And 
 her face was the face of his dream the match- 
 less, wonderful face that had lurked just beyond 
 the grasp of his vision during his waking hours, 
 yet keeping his heart against the lures of the de- 
 signing and the superficial beauties.
 
 282 Captain Love 
 
 And so Captain Love had returned to his own. 
 And Fate and Chance, that had thought to make 
 him their plaything, were become no more than 
 meaningless names whispered against the wind. 
 
 THE END.
 
 From 
 
 L. C. Page & Company's 
 Announcement List 
 of New Fiction 
 
 The Call of the South 
 
 BY ROBERT LEE DURHAM. Cloth decorative, with 6 illus- 
 trations by Henry Roth . . " . .' V . $1.50 
 
 A very strong novel dealing with the race problem in this 
 country. The principal theme is the danger to society from the 
 increasing miscegenation of the black and white races, and the 
 encouragement it receives in the social amenities extended to 
 negroes of distinction by persons prominent hi politics, philan- 
 thropy and educational endeavor; and the author, a Southern 
 lawyer, hopes to call the attention of the whole country to the 
 need of earnest work toward its discouragement. He has 
 written an absorbing drama of life which appeals with apparent 
 logic and of which the inevitable denouement comes as a final 
 and convincing climax. 
 
 The author may be criticized by those who prefer not to face 
 the hour " When Your Fear Cometh As Desolation And Your 
 Destruction Cometh As A Whirlwind; " but his honesty of 
 purpose in the frank expression of a danger so well understood 
 in the South, which, however, many in the North refuse to 
 recognize, while others have overlooked it, will be upheld by 
 the sober second thought of the majority of his readers.
 
 L. C. PAGE & COMPANY'S 
 
 The House in the Water 
 
 BY CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS, author of "The Haunters of 
 the Silences," "Red Fox," "The Heart of the Ancient 
 Wood," etc. With cover design, sixteen full-page drawings, 
 and many minor decorations by Charles Livingston Bull. 
 Cloth decorative, with decorated wrapper . . $1.50 
 
 Professor Roberts's new book of nature and animal life is one 
 long story in which he tells of the life of that wonderfully acute 
 and tireless little worker, the beaver. " The Boy " and Jabe 
 the Woodsman again appear, figuring in the story even more 
 than they did in " Red Fox; " and the adventures of the boy 
 and the beaver make most absorbing reading for young and 
 old. 
 
 The following chapter headings for " The House in the 
 Water " will give an idea of the fascinating reading to come: 
 
 THE SOUND IN THE NIGHT (Beavers at Work). 
 
 THE BATTLE IN THE POND (Otter and Beaver). 
 
 IN THE UNDER-WATER WORLD (Home Life of the Beaver). 
 
 NIGHT WATCHERS (" The Boy " and Jabe and a Lynx See 
 
 the Beavers at Work). 
 DAM REPAIRING AND DAM BUILDING (A " House-raising " 
 
 Bee). 
 
 THE PEEIL OF THE TRAPS (Jabe Shows " The Boy"). 
 WINTER UNDER WATER (Safe from All but Man). 
 THE SAVING OF BOY'S POND (" The Boy " Captures Two 
 
 Outlaws). 
 
 " As a writer about animals, Mr. Roberts occupies an enviable 
 place. He is the most literary, as well as the most imaginative 
 and vivid of all the nature writers." Brooklyn Eagle. 
 
 " His animal stories are marvels of sympathetic science and 
 literary exactness." New York World. 
 
 11 Poet Laureate of the Animal World, Professor Roberts 
 displays the keenest powers of observation closely interwoven 
 with a fine imaginative discretion." Boston Transcript.
 
 LIST OF NEW FICTION 
 
 Captain Love 
 
 THE HISTORY OP A MOST ROMANTIC EVENT IN THE LIFE or 
 AN ENGLISH GENTLEMAN DURING THE REIGN OF His MAJESTY 
 GEORGE THE FIRST. CONTAINING INCIDENTS OF COURTSHIP 
 AND DANGER AS RELATED IN THE CHRONICLES OF THE PERIOD 
 AND Now SET DOWN IN PRINT 
 
 BY THEODORE ROBERTS, author of " The Red Feathers," 
 " Brothers of Peril," etc. Cloth decorative, illustrated by 
 Frank T. Merrill $1.50 
 
 A stirring romance with its scene laid in the troublous times 
 in England when so many broken gentlemen foregathered with 
 the " Knights of the Road; " when a man might lose part of 
 his purse to his opponent at " White's " over the dice, and the 
 next day be relieved of the rest of his money on some lonely 
 heath at the point of a pistol in the hand of the self-same gambler. 
 
 But, if the setting be similar to other novels of the period, the 
 story is not. Mr. Roberta's work is always original, his style is 
 always graceful, his imagination fine, his situations refreshingly 
 novel. In his new book he has excelled himself. It is un- 
 doubtedly the best thing he has done. 
 
 Bahama Bill 
 
 BY T. JENKINS HAINS, author of " The Black Barque," 
 " The Voyage of the Arrow," etc. Cloth decorative, with 
 frontispiece in colors by H. R. Reuterdahl . $1.50 
 
 The scene of Captain Hains's new sea story is laid in the 
 region of the Florida Keys. His hero, the giant mate of the 
 wrecking sloop, Sea-Horse, while not one to stir the emotions 
 of gentle feminine readers, will arouse interest and admiration 
 in men who appreciate bravery and daring. 
 
 His adventures while plying his desperate trade are full of 
 the danger that holds one at a sharp tension, and the reader 
 forgets to be on the side of law and order in his eagerness to see 
 the " wrecker " safely through his exciting escapades. 
 
 Captain Hains's descriptions of life at sea are vivid, absorbingly 
 frank and remarkably true. " Bahama Bill " ranks high as 
 a stirring, realistic, unspftened and undiluted tale of the sea, 
 chock full of engrossing interest.
 
 L. C. PAGE & COMPANY'S 
 
 Matthew Porter 
 
 BY GAMALIEL BRADFORD, JR., author of " The Private Tutor," 
 etc. With a frontispiece in colors by Griswold Tyng $1.50 
 When a young man has birth and character and strong ambi- 
 tion it is safe to predict for him a brilliant career; and, when 
 The Girl comes into his life, a romance out of the ordinary. 
 Such a man is Matthew Porter, and the author has drawn him 
 with fine power. 
 
 Mr. Bradford has given us a charming romance with an 
 unusual motive. Effective glimpses of the social life of Boston 
 form a contrast to the more serious purpose of the story; but, 
 in " Matthew Porter," it is the conflict of personalities, the 
 development of character, the human element which grips the 
 attention and compels admiration. 
 
 Anne of Green Gables 
 
 BY L. M. MONTGOMERY. Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 
 Every one, young or old, who reads the story of " Anne of 
 Green Gables," will fall in love with her, and tell their friends 
 of her irresistible charm. In her creation of the young heroine 
 of this delightful tale Miss Montgomery will receive praise for 
 her fine sympathy with and delicate appreciation of sensitive 
 and imaginative girlhood. 
 
 The story would take rank for the character of Anne alone; 
 but in the delineation of the characters of the old farmer, and 
 his crabbed, dried-up spinster sister who adopt her, the author 
 has shown an insight and descriptive power which add much to 
 the fascination of the book. 
 
 Spinster Farm 
 
 BY HELEN M. WINSLOW, author of " Literary Boston." Illus- 
 trated from original photographs . . . . $1.50 
 Whatever Miss Winslow writes is good, for she is in accord 
 with the life worth living. The Spinster, her niece " Peggy," 
 the Professor, and young Robert Graves, not forgetting 
 Hiram, the hired man, are the characters to whom we are 
 introduced on " Spinster Farm." Most of the incidents and 
 all of the characters are real, as well as the farm and farmhouse, 
 unchanged since Colonial days. 
 
 Light-hearted character sketches, and equally refreshing and 
 unexpected happenings are woven together with a thread of 
 happy romance of which Peggy of course is the vivacious heroine. 
 Alluring descriptions of nature and country life are given with 
 fascinating bits of biography of the farm animals and household 
 pets.
 
 Selections from 
 
 L. C. Page and Company's 
 
 List of Fiction 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS 
 
 Each one vol., library izmo, cloth decorative . . . $f.JO 
 
 The Flight of Georgiana 
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE DAYS OF THE YOUNG PRETENDER. Illus- 
 trated by H. C. Edwards. 
 
 " A love-story in the highest degree, a dashing story, and a r- 
 markably well finished piece of work." Chicago Record-Herald. 
 
 The Bright Face of Danger 
 
 Being an account of some adventures of Henri de Launay, son of 
 
 the Sieur de la Tournoire. Illustrated by H. C. Edwards. 
 
 " Mr. Stephens has fairly outdone himself. We thank him 
 
 heartily. The story is nothing if not spirited and entertaining, 
 
 rational and convincing." Boston Transcript. 
 
 The Mystery of Murray Davenport 
 
 (4Oth thousand.) 
 
 "This is easily the best thing that Mr. Stephens has yet done. 
 Those familiar with his other novels can best judge the measure of 
 this praise, which is generous." Buffalo News. 
 
 Captain Ravenshaw 
 
 OR, THE MAID OF CHEAPSIDE. (52d thousand.) A romance 
 of Elizabethan London. Illustrations by Howard Pyle and other 
 artists. 
 
 Not since the absorbing adventures of D'Artagnan have we had 
 anything so good in. the blended vein of romance and comedy. 
 
 The Continental Dragoon 
 
 A ROMANCE OF PHILIPSE MANOR HOUSE IN 1778. (5jd 
 thousand.) Illustrated by H. C. Edwards. 
 
 A stirring romance of the Revolution, with its scene laid on 
 neutral territory
 
 L. C. PAGE <&> COMPANY'S 
 
 Philip Winwood 
 
 (7Oth thousand.) A Sketch of the Domestic History of an 
 American Captain in the War of Independence, embracing events 
 that occurred between and during the years 1763 and 1785 in 
 New York and London. Illustrated by E. W. D. Hamilton. 
 
 An Enemy to the King 
 
 (70th thousand.) From the " Recently Discovered Memoirs of 
 the Sieur de la Tournoire." Illustrated by H. De M. Young. 
 An historical romance of the sixteenth century, describing the 
 
 adventures of a young French nobleman at the court of Henry III., 
 
 and on the field with Henry IV. 
 
 The Road to Paris 
 
 A STORY OF ADVENTURE. (35th thousand.) Illustrated by 
 
 H. C. Edwards. 
 
 An historical romance of the eighteenth century, being an account 
 of the life of an American gentleman adventurer of Jacobite an- 
 cestry. 
 
 A Gentleman Player 
 
 His ADVENTURES ON A SECRET MISSION FOR QUEEN ELIZA- 
 BETH. (48th thousand.) Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill. 
 The story of a young gentleman who joins Shakespeare's com- 
 pany of players, and becomes a friend and protege of the great 
 poet. 
 
 Clementina's Highwayman 
 
 Cloth decorative, illustrated . , . . . $1.50 
 
 Mr. Stephens has put into his new book, " Clementina's Highway 
 man," the finest qualities of plot, construction, and literary finish. 
 
 The story is laid in the mid-Georgian period. It is a dashing, 
 sparkling, vivacious comedy, with a heroine as lovely and changeable 
 as an April day, and a hero all ardor and daring. 
 
 The exquisite quality of Mr Stephens's literary style clothes the 
 story in a rich but delicate word-fabric ; and never before have his 
 setting and atmosphere been so perfect.
 
 LIST OF FICTION 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS 
 
 Haunters of the Silences 
 
 Cloth, one volume, with many drawings by Charles Livingston 
 Bull, four of which are in full color .... $2.00 
 
 The stories in Mr. Roberts's new collection are the strongest and 
 best he has ever written. 
 
 He has largely taken for his subjects those animals rarely met 
 with in books, whose lives are spent " In the Silences," where they 
 are the supreme rulers. Mr. Roberts has written of them sympa- 
 thetically, as always, but with fine regard for the scientific truth. 
 
 " As a writer about animals, Mr. Roberts occupies an enviable 
 place. He is the most literary, as well as the most imaginative 
 and vivid of all the nature writers." Brooklyn Eagle. 
 
 " His animal stories are marvels of sympathetic science and liter- 
 ary exactness." New York World. 
 
 Red Fox 
 
 THE STORY OF His ADVENTUROUS CAREER IN THE RINGWAAK 
 WILDS, AND OF His FINAL TRIUMPH OVER THE ENEMIES or 
 His KIND. With fifty illustrations, including frontispiece in 
 color and cover design by Charles Livingston Bull. 
 Square quarto, cloth decorative $2.00 
 
 " Infinitely more wholesome reading than the average tale of 
 sport, since it gives a glimpse of the hunt from the point of view of 
 the hunted." Boston Transcript. 
 
 "True in substance but fascinating as fiction. It will interest 
 old and young, city-bound and free-footed, those who know animals 
 and those who do not." Chicago Record- Her aid. 
 
 "A brilliant chapter in natural history." Philadelphia North 
 American.
 
 L. C. PAGE & COMPANY'S 
 
 The Kindred of the Wild 
 
 A BOOK OF ANIMAL LIFE. With fifty-one full-page plates and 
 many decorations from drawings by Charles Livingston Bull. 
 Square quarto, decorative cover ..... $2.00 
 
 " Is in many ways the most brilliant collection of animal stories 
 that has appeared ; well named and well done." John Burroughs. 
 
 The Watchers of the Trails 
 
 A companion volume to " The Kindred of the Wild." With 
 forty-eight full-page plates and many decorations from drawings 
 by Charles Livingston Bull. 
 
 Square quarto, decorative cover $2.00 
 
 " These stories are exquisite in their refinement, and yet robust 
 
 in their appreciation of some of the rougher phases of woodcraft. 
 
 Among the many writers about animals, Mr. Roberts occupies an 
 
 enviable place. The Outlook. 
 
 " This is a book full of delight. An additional charm lies in Mr. 
 
 Bull's faithful and graphic illustrations, which in fashion all their 
 
 own tell the story of the wild life, illuminating and supplementing 
 
 the pen pictures of the author." Literary Digest. 
 
 The Heart That Knows 
 
 Library 1 2mo, cloth, decorative cover .... $1.50 
 "A novel of singularly effective strength, luminous in literary 
 color, rich in its passionate, yet tender drama." New York Globe. 
 
 Earth's Enigmas 
 
 A new edition of Mr. Roberts's first volume of fiction, published 
 in 1892, and out of print for several years, with the addition of 
 three new stories, and ten illustrations by Charles Livingston 
 Bull. 
 
 Library 1 2mo, cloth, decorative cover .... $1.50 
 " It will rank high among collections of short stories. In 
 ' Earth's Enigmas ' is a wider range of subject than in the ' Kin- 
 dred of the Wild.'" Review from advance sheets of the illustrated 
 edition by Tiffany Blake in the Chicago Evening Post. 
 
 Barbara Ladd 
 
 With four illustrations by Frank Verbeck. 
 
 Library 1 2mo, cloth, decorative cover .... $1.50 
 
 " From the opening chapter to the final page Mr. Roberts lures 
 
 us on by his rapt devotion to the changing aspects of Nature and 
 
 by his keen and sympathetic analysis of human character," Boston 
 
 Transcript.
 
 LIST OF FICTION 
 
 Cameron of Lochiel 
 
 Translated from the French of Philippe Aubert de Gaspe, with 
 
 frontispiece in color by H. C. Edwards. 
 
 Library 1 2 mo, cloth decorative $1.50 
 
 " Professor Roberts deserves the thanks of his reader for giving 
 a wider audience an opportunity to enjoy this striking bit of French 
 Canadian literature." Brooklyn Eagle. 
 
 " It is not often in these days of sensational and philosophical 
 novels that one picks up a book that so touches the heart." 
 Boston Transcript. 
 
 The Prisoner of Mademoiselle 
 
 With frontispiece by Frank T. Merrill. 
 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative, gilt top . . . . $1.50 
 
 A tale of Acadia, a land which is the author's heart's delight, 
 of a valiant young lieutenant and a winsome maiden, who first 
 captures and then captivates. 
 
 " This is the kind of a story that makes one grow younger, more 
 innocent, more light-hearted. Its literary quality is impeccable. 
 It is not every day that such a heroine blossoms into even tempo- 
 rary existence, and the very name of the story bears a breath of 
 charm." Chicago Record-Herald. 
 
 The Heart of the Ancient Wood 
 
 With six illustrations by James L. Weston. 
 
 Library I2mo, decorative cover $1.50 
 
 " One of the most fascinating novels of recent days." Boston 
 Journal. 
 
 " A classic twentieth-century romance." New York Commercial 
 Advertiser. 
 
 The Forge in the Forest 
 
 Being the Narrative of the Acadian Ranger, Jean de Mer, 
 Seigneur de Briart, and how he crossed the Black Abbe", and of 
 his adventures in a strange fellowship. Illustrated by Henry 
 Sandham, R. C. A. 
 
 Library 12 mo, cloth, gilt top fl-5 
 
 A story of pure love and heroic adventure. 
 
 By the Marshes of Minas 
 
 Library I2mo, cloth, gilt top, illustrated . . . . 1.50 
 Most of these romances are in the author's lighter and more 
 
 playful vein; each is a unit of absorbing interest and exquisite 
 
 workmanship.
 
 L. C. PAGE & COMPANY'S 
 
 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 Being the Story of Yvonne de Lamourie, and how she went into 
 exile with the villagers of Grand Pre. 
 
 Library 1 2mo, cloth, gilt top, illustrated . . . . $1.50 
 Swift action, fresh atmosphere, wholesome purity, deep passion, 
 and searching analysis characterize this strong novel. 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 LILIAN BELL 
 
 Carolina Lee 
 
 With a frontispiece in color from an oil painting by Dora Wheeler 
 Keith. Library 1 2mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . $1.50 
 " A Christian Science novel, full of action, alive with incident and 
 brisk with pithy dialogue and humor." Boston Transcript. 
 
 " A charming portrayal of the attractive life of the South, refresh- 
 ing as a breeze that blows through a pine forest." Albany Times- 
 Union. 
 
 Hope Lor ing 
 
 Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill. 
 
 Library i zmo, cloth, decorative cover .... #1.50 
 "Tall, slender, and athletic, fragile-looking, yet with nerves and 
 sinews of steel under the velvet flesh, frank as a boy and tender and 
 beautiful as a woman, free and independent, yet not bold such is 
 Hope Loring,' by long odds the subtlest study that has yet been 
 made of the American girl." Dorothy Dix, in the New York 
 American. 
 
 Abroad with the Jimmies 
 
 With a portrait, in duogravure, of the author. 
 Library 1 2mo, cloth, decorative cover .... $1.50 
 " Full of ozone, of snap, of ginger, of swing and momentum." 
 Chicago Evening Post. 
 
 At Home with the Jardines 
 
 A companion volume to " Abroad with the Jimmies." 
 
 Library 1 2mo, cloth, decorative cover $1.50 
 
 " Bits of gay humor, sunny, whimsical philosophy, and keen in- 
 dubitable insight into the less evident aspects and workings of pure 
 human nature, with a slender thread of a cleverly extraneous love 
 story, keep the interest of the reader fresh." Chicago Record- 
 Herald,
 
 LIST OF FICTION 
 
 The Interference of Patricia 
 
 With a frontispiece from drawing by Frank T. Merrill. 
 
 Small 1 2mo, cloth, decorative cover ..... $1*25 
 
 " There is life and action and brilliancy and dash and cleverness 
 and a keen appreciation of business ways in this story." Grand 
 Rapids Herald. 
 
 " A story full of keen and flashing satire." Chicago Record- 
 Herald. 
 
 A Book of Girls 
 
 With a frontispiece. 
 
 Small i2mo, cloth, decorative cover . . . ... $1.25 
 
 " The stories are all eventful and have effective humor." New 
 York Sun. 
 
 " Lilian Bell surely understands girls, for she depicts all the varia- 
 tions of girl nature so charmingly." Chicago Journal. 
 
 The above two volumes boxed in special holiday dress, per set, 
 WORKS OF 
 
 NATHAN GALLIZIER 
 
 The Sorceress of Rome 
 
 With four drawings in color by " The Kinneys." 
 
 Cloth decorative, illustrated ...... 
 
 The love-story of Otto III., the boy emperor, and Stephania, wife 
 of the Senator Crescentius of Rome, has already been made the 
 basis of various German poems and plays. 
 
 Mr. Gallizier has used it for the main theme of " The Sorceress 
 of Rome," the second book of his trilogy of romances on the me- 
 diaeval life of Italy. In detail and finish the book is a brilliant piece 
 of work, describing clearly an exciting and strenuous period. 
 
 Castel del Monte 
 
 With six illustrations by H. C. Edwards. 
 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative ..... $i. 50 
 
 A powerful romance of the fall of the Hohenstaufen dynasty in 
 Italy and the overthrow of Manfred by Charles of Anjou, the cham- 
 pion of Pope Clement IV. 
 
 " There is color ; there is sumptuous word painting in these pages ; 
 the action is terrific at times ; vividness and life are in every part ; and 
 brilliant descriptions entertain the reader and give a singular fasci- 
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 Z. C. PAGE & COMPANY'S 
 
 WORKS OF 
 
 MORLEY ROBERTS 
 
 Rachel Marr 
 
 Library 1 2mo, cloth decorative $1.50 
 
 "A novel of tremendous force, with a style that is sure, luxuriant, 
 
 compelling, full of color and vital force." Elia W. Peattie, in 
 
 Chicago Tribune. 
 " In atmosphere, if nothing else, the story is absolutely perfect." 
 
 Boston Transcript. 
 
 Lady Penelope 
 
 With nine illustrations by Arthur W. Brown. 
 
 Library I2mo, cloth decorative $1-50 
 
 "A fresh and original bit of comedy as amusing as it is auda- 
 cious." Boston Transcript. 
 
 The Idlers 
 
 With frontispiece in color by John C. Frohn. 
 
 Library 1 2mo, cloth decorative $1.50 
 
 " It is as absorbing as the devil. Mr. Roberts gives us the antithe- 
 sis of ' Rachel Marr' in an equally masterful and convincing work." 
 
 The New York Sun. 
 
 "It is a work of great ethical force." Professor Charles G. D. 
 Roberts. 
 
 The Promotion of the Adm iral 
 
 Library 12 mo, cloth decorative, illustrated . . . $1.50 
 " If any one writes better sea stories than Mr. Roberts, we don't 
 
 know who it is ; and if there is a better sea story of its kind than 
 
 this it would be a joy to have the pleasure of reading it." New 
 
 York Sun. 
 " There is a hearty laugh in every one of these stories." The 
 
 Reader. 
 
 The Flying Cloud 
 
 Cloth decorative, with a colored frontispiece . . . $1.50 
 When "The Flying Cloud," was published, the New York Times 
 Saturday Review said: "It is the drama of the sea: human nature 
 stripped naked by salt water alchemy and painted as only the author 
 or Joseph Conrad could paint it. ... A corking story, a ripping good 
 story I"
 
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