"Perhaps we shall meet again, young master," he said, as he walked away. "God hath a purpose in bringing people together, and although when I went out this evening to speak words of comfort to a sick member of my flock, I had no premonition that I should meet you, yet I believe God had a purpose in it, for truly I can see that thou art not far from the Kingdom."
It was some time before I was able to obtain an ostler to feed and groom my horse; at length, however, I succeeded in so doing by the promise of extra payment, and then having satisfied myself on this score, I found my way to the inn again, in the hope of supper. But in this I found great difficulty. Drink was plentiful enough, but something to eat was a different matter. Every one in the house seemed too busy in supplying drink to those who came hither to drink the king's health to be able to care aught for the needs of a traveller such as myself. At length, however, I obtained some boiled beef and bread, and with this I had to be content, and after partaking thereof I found my way into a room where I was told the people of quality had congregated.
Little notice was taken of my coming, until it became known that I had come from London town, after which I became a person of great importance, and was plied with many questions. These I answered freely enough. First because my answers could arouse no suspicion, and second because I thought I should thereby lead my questioners to talk about the woman who was imprisoned at Bedford Gaol. In this I found I had conjectured rightly, and when, presently, I found that one of those who talked with me was no less a person than the governor of the gaol, I rejoiced greatly that I had not accepted the hospitality of Master John Bunyan.
"Ah, but it is a feather in my cap," said this man, whose name I found to be John Sturgeon, "and I doubt not that when all the happenings reach the king's ears he will be mightily pleased with me."
I saw that he had been drinking freely, and that heweighed not his words. Moreover, he seemed to be a man of choleric temper, and did not brook opposition from any one.
"And how may that be, Master Sturgeon?" I said. "Think you the king will have so little to do when he arrives at Whitehall that he will pay heed to the imprisonment of what you have called a Puritan woman?"
"Surely you have not lived in London, or you would not speak so foolishly," he cried. "Suppose, I say, suppose she had killed General Monk, would the king have been welcomed back? I tell you no. Therefore will the king bear in mind all who have had aught to do with the capture of such a one."
"Ay, but," I urged, "the governor of the gaol is not the constable who caught her coming hither?"
"Again you speak like a fool, young master, or you would know that I am a man of authority in Bedford. Moreover, was it not I who had Master John Leslie watched? Did I not note his looks of uneasiness, and did not the inquiries I made concerning him lead me to place men along the roads to London? Ah, but it was by the merest shave that they took her. For what was she dressed like, think you? As a witch? Nay, but as a saucy young springald. Moreover, she carried things with a high hand, and threatened Jonathan Wild, the biggest constable in Bedford, to horsewhip him. But her face betrayed her, for one of the men, although she hath lived much in London, and is but little known in Bedford, recognized her in the moonlight, and then having suspicions, pulled off her headgear, whereupon her hair fell down her back."
At this there was much laughter, and many coarse jests.
"Ah, well," went on Master Sturgeon, "I never did like Master Leslie, for he sent many a good fellow to Bedford Gaol, simply because they were not straightlaced Puritans like himself. Things are changed now, and mayhap that I shall have even him under lock and key."
"How did she get her horse and her attire?" I asked.
"That I cannot tell," he replied, "but I doubt not it will all come out when she is tried."
"When and where is the trial to be?"
"In London, I do hear. This, I think, is a shame, for why should all the fun be in London. Still the deed was done there, and mayhap the king, who loves a pretty face, may wish to be at the trial."
Although much more was said, there was little of importance; moreover I found that men were too eager to talk of the events which were to take place in London because of the king's coming, to pay much heed to the woman who had attempted the life of General Monk, wife to Sir Charles Denman though she might be.
Still I kept in the room until wellnigh midnight, when Master Sturgeon rose to go. I was told that he boasted of being able to carry more drink than any man in Bedford, nevertheless I saw that he staggered somewhat on leaving the inn. As he put on his hat a plan was suddenly born in my mind, and without weighing its value I followed him into the street, determining to make my first attempt that very night to obtain the liberty of the woman into whose company I had been so strangely thrown.
Master Sturgeon had walked but a few steps when I came to his side.
"I am a stranger in Bedford, Master Sturgeon," I said, "therefore the company of such a well-known man as yourself is of great interest to me, and if I may, I will e'en walk a little way with you."
"Ah, it is you, Master Stranger?" he made answer, "and you have seen that I am a man of no mean import in the town? Ah, well, you are a youth of great penetration."
"Every one here seems to know you," I said.
"How can it be otherwise?" he said, with half-drunken gravity. "Am I not the father of the town? It is true that many would say that Master Leslie is of greater importance than I, because he is a justice, and because he comes of an old family. But what of that? I am here always and he is only here sometimes. And besides—will not this drag him down, and lift me up? He will say, of course, that Sir Charles Denman egged her on, and not he: that may be true; but why was she on her way to Goodlands, which is the name of Master Leslie's house? You see, she was hardly ever seen at Bedford. None of the family liked the place. Master Leslie came sometimes, and crowed it over people who have made the town, but his wife and children considered themselves too high and mighty to come."
"Master Leslie hath other children, then?"
"Ay, that he hath."
"How many?"
"As to that I know not, for, as I have said, he lived muchin London, and was great friends with Old Noll. But when he did come here, he showed what a strong Quaker he was, going sometimes to hear the tinker, and at others to hear Master Gaystone, who is as great a Presbyterian as ever lived. Would you mind taking my arm, young master? My head is clear enough, but I seem to see the road rising up before me."
I took his arm, and continued to ply him with questions, for though he stammered and hiccuped much, he seemed desirous of talking. Moreover, he was not so drunk but that he understood what he was saying.
"And Sir Charles Denman. Know you aught of him?"
"Nay, nothing much. A great friend of Master Leslie's and a bigoted Puritan. A money lover, too, and one, I am told, who is as secret as an oyster. Men have wondered that a maid so young and so fair to look upon should have married him; but no man can tell what a woman will do."
"Is she, then, so very beautiful?"
"Ay, that she is. When I saw her brought into the gaol, I fair started. It seemed impossible that one so young and so fair could attempt to murder a man. But there it is, no man may say what these Puritans will do."
"The king may thank his stars he hath such a zealous officer in this town of Bedford," I said, trying to play upon his vanity. "It ought to be made known what a valuable subject he possesseth."
"Ah, you see that! What I fear is that my part will not be mentioned to his Majesty. Why, a man hath been knighted for less!"
"Many's the time," I said; "yet would you believe that, although I was at Dover when the king landed, and although I heard an officer tell him that the woman was captured, your name was never once mentioned?"
"You at Dover! You heard men tell the news to the king!" he cried.
"Ay, and I spoke to the king," I made answer; "but I left him at Canterbury, for I desired to reach London town quickly, having affairs of importance to transact."
"And the king spoke to you, young master! Tell me, did the king speak to you?"
"Ay, that he did," I replied. "Why not?"
My news seemed to startle him so that his voice lost some of its thickness, and I thought he became soberer.
"I fear I have taken liberties with my betters," he said solemnly.
"Oh, as to that I take no account," I replied. "It was not for me to blazon it abroad that I had spoken to the king, or to tell them that he asked me if I desired a favour, therefore you would think of me as you would think of any other traveller coming into the town. Still, I saw that you were a man of authority, and I desired to speak with you."
"Tell me, young master," he said eagerly, "hath the king sent you here? Are you here for anything like statecraft?"
"As to that, Master Sturgeon, young as I am I am old enough to hold my peace on such matters. Only this I will say: I have a stronger hold on the king than many whose names are bandied from mouth to mouth, and a word from me will in the time to come weigh much with him."
"Your name, worshipful master, what might your name be?"
"As I said before, a man doth not shout his name to the people when he hath important affairs to perform," I replied.
"If there is aught I can do for you, young master," he said, "say the word, and John Sturgeon is at your command."
I had measured my man rightly. Vain as a peacock when sober, and a fool in the bargain when his brains were muddled by drink, I saw that I could work my will with him if I played my game carefully.
We were passing by a gloomy building as we spoke, and he noted my interest in it.
"The gaol, young master, the gaol. Would you like to see it? To-morrow I will be at your service, and I will show you, ay, I will show you the beauteous daughter of Master John Leslie."
"To-morrow," I replied slowly: "to-morrow I oughtto be far from Bedford, Master Sturgeon; yet methinks the king would be interested to know that I saw the woman safely guarded. As you said some time ago, had General Monk been killed, Lambert would have been master, and then I doubt much if Charles would have been brought back. You say you have no one above you in this gaol, Master Sturgeon? You are the sole master here?"
"Ay, the sole master," he replied with pride. "Any command I make is obeyed. Either in town or county gaol, John Sturgeon is chief man."
"Then would I visit the gaol, and see this woman before I go to bed to-night," I made answer.
I saw that my request had startled him. Perhaps doubts came into his mind concerning my request. Perhaps never in his life had he a prisoner of such importance. Mostly the people under his care would be thieving vagrants, or perhaps occasionally some low-browed murderer. This woman, however, made him realize his importance more than ever. She was the daughter of one of the chief men in the neighbourhood, and the importance of her capture was not confined to the little town in which he lived.
"I would rather it should be to-morrow if it please you, young master," he said presently, and I could see that his judgment, muddled as it was by drink, was still sufficiently clear to know that my request was not unaccompanied by danger to him.
"I do not think I need trouble you to-morrow," I replied. "If I desire to see the gaol then, it is probable I shall be accompanied by one of the justices of the town. But to-night all is quiet, and perchance I might be enabled to take back a better report to London than if I saw things under the guidance of a justice."
"Oh, I will see to it, young master," he said hurriedly.
"The turnkeys will be either drunk or asleep, but I can open all doors. Come with me. Not but I would rather it had been to-morrow, for the ale was strong, and try as I may I cannot help being sleepy."
He led the way into the gaol courtyard, a small and—as I plainly saw in the moonlight—an ill-kept place,—and then proceeded to open the door which led into the building.
The prison was as silent as death. In the distance I heardthe noise of those who were still at their carousals, as well as many whom we had passed in the streets. Some were singing the songs which had been composed about the coming of the king, others were quarrelling, while others still were shouting in their drunken revelry; but here all was as still as death. I saw that Master Sturgeon spoke truly when he said the strong ale had got into his head. He fumbled much with his keys, and in truth seemed wellnigh asleep.
"You will speak well of me to the king, young master," I heard him mumble; "ay, and you ought, for there is not in all the realm a more zealous subject of his Majesty. God save the king!"
"How many gaolers have you here?" I asked, my heart beating fast, for now that I had once entered the prison the reality of what I was trying to do came to me with more vividness than ever.
"How many?" he replied solemnly, "not many; besides, doth not the king ride to London to-day? And have they not been drinking the king's health, even as I have?"
"And is it not right to drink the king's health?" I made answer.
"Right? ay, that it is. Besides, a sup of ale would make me awake again. Well thought of."
Without even stopping to lock the door behind him, he made his way to a room near the entrance, where after much ado, having lit a candle, he found a jar of ale.
"Jiggins ofThe Bullsays he brews the best ale in Bedford," he said, "but this is better, this is better;" and he drank a deep draught.
"Come and let me see the prisoner," I said, for I feared he would soon be too drunk to render me any service.
"Plenty of time, plenty of time," he said sleepily. "Let me pull myself together a bit. Her door is the second on the right, and the key is there," and he pointed to a key hanging on the wall. "I don't like Master Leslie, he hath never treated me as one man of quality should treat another; but I had to put her in the best cell. Oh, she hath a good bed, and good victuals. For what saith her father? 'Nothing is proved against her yet,' he saith, so I had to be careful. But you'll tell the king, young master. It wasbecause of me that she was taken, and—but that ale is good; I will e'en have another drink."
A minute after he sat down in an armchair which stood close to the open fireplace.
"A man may rest in his own room, king or no king," he went on with sleepy gravity. "Besides, am I not the governor? Who dares ask me questions? Even the justices say, 'Ah, we must leave all things to Master Sturgeon.' And they may, they may. The king's most trusted servant—that's what I am. Won't you drink, young master? There's no hurry. Her door is close by, and the key is handy. I always see to that. I always have my own keys for my own use. Ah, Master Leslie will soon know who's master now! The father of Bedford, that's what I am."
I let him wander on. If he had spoken truly there was no need of interruption, for, as some one atThe Bullhad said, there would be few men in Bedford sober that night. The king had given commands that the people should drink his health, and there was no reason to suppose that they were slow in obeying his royal will. I doubted not that the gaolers had made the most of the king's bounty, even as others had, and if so, there was little fear of being disturbed.
I saw that Master Sturgeon was regarding me in a dazed sort of way, as though he wondered why I was there, but by this time the liquor had got too strong a hold upon his brain for him to think of asking questions. He lay back heavily in his chair, and I saw that he had great difficulty in keeping his film-covered eyes open. A few minutes later he was fast asleep, and I was in Bedford Gaol without a guide to conduct me whither I would go.
Taking the key he had indicated from the nail on which it hung, I made my way out of the room, holding the candle in my hand. But Master Sturgeon paid no heed to me, and to all appearances he would sleep for many hours to come.
Once outside the door, I carefully turned the key in the lock, and then I silently walked along the passages, taking care, however, to make no sound. It was seemingly in my power to set at liberty every prisoner in the gaol, butI thought not of them. All my interest was centred in the woman whom I had accompanied from Folkestone Town to Pycroft Hall. Indeed, I doubt if there were many prisoners to be liberated, for I had heard at the inn that all save those who had committed serious crime had been liberated in order to shew forth the king's clemency.
At the second door I stopped and listened. All was silent as death. Not a sound was heard in the whole dark gloomy building. Even the noise of the revellers from the outside did not reach me here. I did not stop to consider the danger of carrying out the plan that had been born in my mind. I did not consider that if I was caught in the act of seeking to liberate Constance Denman my own liberty would be at stake. I was simply filled with an eager desire to look on her face again, to hear her voice, and to give her liberty. All the fears and doubts which haunted me through the day troubled me no longer. The madness of thus seeking out a woman of whom I knew so little troubled me not one whit. My heart was young and warm, and at that moment the desire to find the king's marriage contract with Lucy Walters was of far less importance to me than to befriend the woman who was accused of trying to murder General Monk.
As I said, I stopped and listened intently. The candle in my hand cast flickering shadows along the gloomy passage in which I stood. The air felt cold and dead. The silence was unearthly, and only the beating of my own heart broke the stillness of the night.
I did not knock at the door at once. What, I reflected, if Master Sturgeon was not as drunk as he appeared? What if he awoke, and discovered that I had locked him in his room? Would he not cry aloud, and arouse some sleepy official, who would be doubtless within call? Loose as had been the discipline in prisons since the coming of the king had been proclaimed, there must be still some semblance of order remaining. I therefore crept back to his door again and listened. Yes, there could be no doubt about it. He was breathing heavily like a man who would not awake for several hours. I therefore found my way back again, and listened at the door in which he said the woman was confined.
Yes, there could be no doubt about it, there was a movement within. I heard the rustle of a woman's dress. I heard some one sighing. I listened if possible more silently, and heard a voice, a woman's voice. I will write down what I heard, for although I deem it an ill-judged act, as a rule, to repeat a woman's prayers, yet because it may shew that I had reason for believing in the woman's innocence in spite of all that had been said to her discredit, I will even do so. For the woman was praying.
"Great Judge of men," she said, "Thou who art God over all, and hast in all ages been kind to those that trust in Thee, be pleased to deliver me. For I am sorely set about with danger. Thou knowest the thoughts of my heart, Thou understandest why I am brought to this condition. Thus because Thou understandest all things I come to Thee with confidence. Be pleased to set at nought the cunning devices of men, and even as the doors of the prison were thrown open to the Apostles of old time, be pleased to open the doors of my prison. But if it is Thy will that I should suffer, help me to deport myself even as one who trusts in Thy mercy through the merits of Christ, who died for the world."
At this there was a silence, and after waiting a moment I made a slight noise at the door, so that she might be prepared for my coming. Then I put my lips to the keyhole, and spoke. "Be silent and fear not," I said in a whisper.
"Who is there?" I heard her say.
"A friend," I replied, "be not afraid."
Upon this I put the key in the door, and to my delight it opened wide. A moment later I stood within the woman's prison house.
Dim as was the light of the candle, for a moment it dazzled her eyes, so that she could not see plainly, but ere long she made out who I was, and then I saw that she was overcome with astonishment.
"Master Rashcliffe!" she said in a frightened whisper.
"Yes," I made answer.
"How came you here?"
"To deliver you—if I can."
For a moment she seemed too overwhelmed for furtherspeech, but presently I saw that she conquered her astonishment, and I thought I saw that half-angry half-defiant look which I had detected when I first overtook her on the road outside Folkestone.
"Do you know you run great danger?" she asked.
"Perhaps," I replied, for somehow her presence seemed to make me slow of speech.
"Then what led you to enter these walls?"
"I have told you," I replied.
"But how could you gain entrance?"
"Another time I will tell you, but there is no time now. Once outside the town I can tell you concerning this and many other matters, but now your liberty is my chief concern."
She looked up into my face as though she would read the story of my life therein, and as she did so I was able to see her more plainly than ever it had been my lot to do. I saw now what the man at the inn had meant when he said she was fair to look upon, for she possessed a beauty such as I had never seen before. And yet she was different from the beauties of Charles' Court, concerning whom I had heard my father speak. Hers was the beauty of a woman who was as pure as the angels. Concerning this many may smile, and say that I saw her with the eyes of foolish boyhood. Yet although many years have passed since then, and although many harsh judgments have been formed concerning the deed of which she was accused, I hold fast to what I say. Her eyes had all the innocence of the eyes of a child. Her face was as free from marks of passion and guilt as were the faces of which artists dreamt when they painted pictures of the Mother of Christ. Nevertheless, hers was not the face of a child. It was strong and resolute. There was neither fear nor shrinking in her gaze as she turned her eyes to my face. Wonder there was, even amounting to astonishment, but there was more. I saw that this woman with such a beauteous face was capable of deeds of daring and sacrifice. That Joan of Arc, the story of whose deeds had so inspired my imagination years before, was not capable of greater daring than she, and that this woman would follow the call of God as faithfully as did the Maid of Orleans more thantwo hundred years before. Moreover, her presence suggested no weakness. I saw that though barely twenty years of age, she was not weak, nor of delicate appearance. The blood of health coursed through her veins. Her hands were firm, the light of her eyes burned steadily. Moreover, she was not cast in a small mould, rather she was taller than most women, and was perfectly proportioned.
All this I saw at a glance even although it has taken me some time to set it down on paper, and if I had ever hesitated in my determination to save her from the doom which awaited her, it had now flown to the winds. For I knew that her life was not worth a silver groat. General Monk had determined on her death, and in spite of all talk about the king's clemency, it was freely said that he would shew no mercy on those who had aught to do with his father's death. Moreover, as it was given out that both Sir Charles Denman and Master Leslie were much implicated in this matter, the woman who was so closely connected with them both could expect no mercy.
"You know the meaning of what I told you when we stood together outside Pycroft Hall," she said quietly. "You know of what I am accused now?"
"Yes."
"And you believe it?"
"I believe nothing unworthy of you."
"But you have heard of the proofs?"
"Ay, I have heard; but I know nought of them. They are nothing to me. I promised to befriend you, and I have come to fulfil my promise."
"But can you?"
"Ay, I can."
I meant what I said, for at that moment all difficulties appeared as nothing.
"You can take me outside these prison walls?"
"Ay."
"And after that?"
"After that I know not. Perhaps you have plans in your own mind, but if you have not I can save you."
Perhaps the confident way in which I spoke gave her courage; moreover, I saw by the flash in her eyes that shecomprehended what to many other women would have seemed mysterious. For she was no woman of dull intelligence, but one who thought quickly and to purpose.
"If I can reach my father's house I am safe," she said.
"Your father's house? That surely is the first place men will go when they hear of your escape from here."
"Nay, it is not. They will never believe that I should go thither now. If they do, it will not matter; I shall be safe there, and even my father will not know of my presence."
"You have trusty servants, and there are secret places at Goodlands," I said.
She gave me a glance which made my heart burn, although I knew not why.
"But for an accident I should have taken refuge there," she said. "While I was at Pycroft it was given out that I had been recognized in the neighbourhood, and endeavours were made to capture me. So I made my way to Dorking, where I made myself known to those whose business it was to take me. But I escaped from there, leaving no trace behind, and hoped to reach my father's house."
"But how did you do this?"
"I have many friends."
"But why did you make yourself known at Dorking?"
She looked at me steadily and seemed on the point of speaking; but no word escaped her lips.
"And did Sir Charles Denman accompany you?" I said.
"No," she replied, and there was, as I thought, anger in her tones. "No, he did not."
Why it was I did not know, but I rejoiced at this.
"And you do not know where he is now?"
"No, I do not know," she answered.
She paused a moment, and although it was a joy beyond the telling to be with her and hear her speak, it came to me that not a moment was to be lost if I was to lead her to liberty.
"There is no time for further questioning," I said, "even although there are many things I would ask you;" and then in a few words I told her how I had been able to come thither. She said no word while I spoke to her concerning this, not even to ask a question; nevertheless what I said convinced her that never again would she have such a favourable opportunity of escaping, so without any ado we found our way outside the gaol without a single mishap. Indeed, so easy was the escape from Bedford Gaol that I have wondered many times since concerning our good fortune. But as I have said, the coming of the king, and the carousals consequent thereupon, had caused many things to be turned topsy-turvy, so that we got outside the prison gates without so much as a single word spoken to us. For that matter, I believe that no man save Master Sturgeon ever dreamed that I had entered the place, and no man knew when I went out.
Once outside the prison gates she drew a deep breath, and then I saw her lips move as if in prayer. She had brought a cloak with her, which she now threw over her head, and then she hurried rapidly into the street. We were in the very heart of the town, yet saw we no man, for the time was now past midnight, and most of the revellers had gone to sleep.
"Which way would you go?" I asked.
"Along the Woburn Road," she whispered. "But stay, we must not go as though we were followed. May I take your arm, Master Rashcliffe?"
I felt every fibre of my body tingle as her hand rested on my left arm, and I felt that it should go hard with theman who tried to take her from me. I saw to it, therefore, that my sword was loose in its sheath, and that my pistols were easy to command.
"If once we can cross the river we shall be safer, I think," she said. "The town lies this side the river, and once away from the bridge we shall be less likely to meet any who might molest us."
The night was quiet, I remember. Not a breath of wind stirred, and the moon having been hidden by the passing clouds, there was but little light.
We had not gone above twenty paces along the road, which I think the townspeople called the High Street, when we met two men, who, as I judged, were people of authority.
"Who are you and where go you?" one asked.
"Who are you, and where go you?" I retorted quickly.
"Who am I?" he asked. "I am the town clerk. Now tell me who you are."
"Sir William Bilton is the chief man in Bedford," said my companion in a whisper.
I caught her meaning, and spoke as loudly as I dared. "If a guest of Sir William Bilton may not walk through the town to see how it behaves on the day when the king arrives in London without being stopped by the town clerk, it is passing strange," I answered. "Moreover, I will see to it that he knows concerning the matter."
The man's tone changed in a moment. "I hope no offence, young master," he said humbly. "Will you be pleased to pay my humble respects to Sir William, and to tell him that I only seek to do my duty?"
"That is very well," I answered in a tone of offended dignity. "I find no fault with a zealous officer of the town, nevertheless I thought a man in your position could distinguish between a drunken brawler and a man of quality."
"I crave your pardon, worshipful sir," he said, "but I have had much trouble to-night, for nearly every constable and night watchman is drunk. Therefore, although there is much licence at such a time, yet for the good name of the town I must e'en do my duty."
"Ay, I see that, and I will at the first opportunity Ihave tell Sir William what a faithful town clerk he has. Moreover, you may not take a crown amiss with which to drink the king's health, also that of Sir William."
A moment later we were left alone again, and then we walked slowly down the street. Had I been alone I think I should have hastened, but my companion pressed my arm, and bade me in a whisper to go slowly.
I heard the two men talking together, as though they doubted who we were, but presently they decided to go on their way, and great was my delight as I heard their retreating footsteps.
A minute later we reached the river, which was crossed by means of a roughly built bridge. I noted that the river ran slowly here, and was perchance a little more than forty yards wide. On our left was a dark building, which looked grim and forbidding, standing as it did upon the river bank.
"That is the town gaol," said my companion. "I hoped when I was taken that I should have been imprisoned there. Then would I have escaped two days ago."
"How?" I asked.
"I would have crept out by one of the windows, and swum across the river," she answered.
"But how could you have crept out by the windows?"
"There are those within that gaol who would do aught for me," she answered.
This she said as we crossed the bridge, eagerly looking around her as she spoke.
We still kept straight on, perhaps a hundred yards or more, when she suddenly took a turning to the right.
"And where go we now—Lady Denman?" I asked.
She gave a start, and then stood still as I mentioned her name.
"Nay, not that," she said almost hoarsely.
"It is not easy to speak to you unless I call you by your name," I said.
"Nay, but call me not by his name. He hath been the cause of all our troubles!"
She said these words with such bitterness of voice that she might not have been the same woman who had been speaking a few moments before.
"But he is your husband," I said almost brutally.
She hesitated a few seconds, and then, still holding my arm, she walked by my side along the road.
"There be many reasons which lead a woman to call a man husband," she said. "Not every woman loves the man whose name she bears, and—" here she stopped again like one who seemed to fear she had said too much. "Besides," she went on, "certain subjects are painful. I can go faster if you wish."
"I am sorry if I have said aught to make you angry with me, Lady——"
"Constance," she said; "call me Mistress Constance. Nay, you have done nought to make me angry. Hark! what is that?"
We were now outside the town, and houses were not so plentiful; nevertheless, here and there cottages were scattered, and from some of the windows I saw flickering lights. What we heard was the sound of footsteps and the shout of men's voices.
"They come towards us, not after us," I heard her murmur.
"Perchance there is an alehouse on the road," I suggested, "and these are men who have been drinking there."
"There is an alehouse; but listen——"
We stopped and listened, and I felt sure I was right in my conjecture.
"Am I a constable," I heard one say, "and shall I see such goings on? I tell you, you are drunk!"
"Ay, I am, and so are you, Master Blewitt. The man who is not drunk to-day is not worthy to be called an Englishman. It is only Puritans and women who are not drunk. Ah, we had not been so drunk if Master Leslie's daughter had not been safely in gaol. Had Master Leslie been able to hold up his head he would have done much to keep the town sober, king or no king."
"Ay, that is the worst of these Puritans, and that is why I am glad the king hath come back. There will be no sin in getting drunk now, nay, nor no sin in kissing a pretty girl. Down with the Puritans, I say, and to the gallows with Master Leslie's pretty daughter."
"Nay, 'twould be a pity to put a piece of rope around such a pretty neck."
"What, man! You never saw her neck."
"Ay, but I did, and her face too. I never saw it till she was brought to the river's bank. But I saw it then, and I shall never forget it. Ay, I would know it among ten thousand."
I felt Mistress Constance grasp my arm more tightly with her right hand, while with her left she drew her mantle more closely around her face.
"Shall we go back?" she asked.
"What, towards the prison?"
"Oh no—let us go on."
Indeed we could do nought else, for the men had caught sight of us by this time, and I heard one man exclaim, "Ay, here is a man and a wench coming!"
"Do not fear," I whispered: "there be but three, and they are wellnigh drunk. If the worst comes to the worst I will fight them all—and meanwhile you can escape."
I felt her shiver, even while her fingers gripped my arm still more tightly. Brave as she was, she was still a woman, who shrank from being brought into contact with brutal and profane men.
"Do not leave me if you can help it," she whispered, and then she seemed to master herself, and we walked boldly towards them.
"Good morrow," said one of the men.
"Good morrow," I replied.
"And whither go you?"
"That is my business."
"Ay, and mine too. Know you I am a constable and carry a truncheon? Come, tell me who you are."
"Ay, and let the wench show us her face," said another.
"Ay, and let her give us a kiss," said the third.
My anger was getting the better of me now, for not only did they say what I have written down, but much more, which must have been sorely distasteful to Mistress Constance's ears.
Without any more ado, therefore, I drew my sword.
"The man who approaches a step nearer will have to swallow six inches of steel," I said.
Drunk as they were they started back. One, however,who did not seem quite as drunk as the others, eyed us closely.
"Now, then, Peter Blewitt," he said, "you boast that you are a brave man, and you carry a truncheon. At him! At him!"
But Peter Blewitt did not move.
"And you say you are never frightened!" sneered the other. "You say that you will take me to the lock-up. You! you haven't the courage of a bantam cock!"
This seemed to sting the drunken constable, for he made as though he would come towards me, and throwing off Mistress Constance's hand, I seized a pistol, and held it towards them.
"Unless you go your way I shoot," I cried.
"Now then, Peter Blewitt, surely you are not afraid of a boy's popgun? At him, man! at him!"
With drunken gravity the constable drew his truncheon and came towards me. I was loth, great as the danger was, to use my weapons, for though I had been trained to the use of both, I had never had occasion to defend myself by them before. In this case my hesitation almost led to my undoing, for the feel of the truncheon having evidently given the constable fresh courage, he rushed upon me suddenly, and struck at me with all his might. He did not miss me by more than six inches, and had I not slipped aside, I should have been completely at his mercy, for he was a strong man. As it was, however, he missed me completely, and not only that, but wellnigh fell down at my feet. Peter Blewitt's action, however, proved an example for the others.
"I'll see who the wench is, pistol or no pistol," I heard one say, and I saw him seize Mistress Constance's cloak, and try to pull it aside.
At this I hesitated no longer, but struck at him with my sword. Whether the blade cut its way through the man's thick clothes I know not, but he dropped his arm in a moment, and then, carried away by my desire to be rid of them, I lifted my left arm and fired. I have been told since that the bullet only grazed the man's shoulder, but he cried out like one in the death agony. "I'm killed, I'm killed! Help!" he cried.
At this he took to his heels, and flew as though the furies were at his heels, while the others, apparently frightened at the report of the pistol, followed him howling at the top of their voices.
"Are you hurt?" asked Mistress Constance.
"No; and you are safe!"
"Yes. The man did not see my face. Come, let us go."
We hurried along the road for it may be five minutes; then she stopped.
"There is a stile here somewhere," she said. "I am sure we have not passed it. Ah, there it is."
She leaped lightly over it, and then followed the windings of a footpath. Through two fields we passed together without speaking, then she turned on me suddenly.
"Thank you, Master Rashcliffe," she said; "you are a brave man."
"What do you mean?" I stammered.
"I am safe now. You need not fear for me any more. I thank you from the depths of my heart."
"But you are not arrived at your destination yet."
"No, but I shall be there soon. You see those trees? Once behind them I am safe."
"But——"
"It will not be well for you to come farther, Master Rashcliffe. You need not fear for me. Forgive me if I desire to be alone. It is not because I am not grateful. You have saved me from death, a terrible death. Good-bye. We shall never meet again."
My heart grew cold within me. "You have told me nothing," I stammered. "That is, the time may come when I can be of—that is, I desire to be your friend, even as I told you more than a week ago at—that is, on the night I saw you first."
"No, no. I had better tell you nothing. If I am not taken prisoner again—which I shall not be; no, I will die first!—you will never see me more. But I will pray for you, pray that God will preserve you and give you happiness. But tell me," she cried, and it seemed as though she had remembered something else, "can you get away in safety? You must have had difficulty in coming to me."
"There is no need to fear for me, Mistress Constance," I said, fearing to give her pain on my account, and thus saying words which I was far from being sure of. "I will get away from Bedford without any man being the wiser, and you need not fear that I will ever tell any man that I have seen you. But I thought not to part from you so soon. There are many things I would ask of you. Much hath happened since I saw you last, and perchance you can give me an explanation."
"I can tell you nothing, nothing."
"But you spoke to that old man. You knew him, I saw him also. I had speech with him, and I would know who he was. The knowledge would advantage me much."
"No, no, I must not, I dare not. Good-bye. I thank you beyond words for what you have done, and you need not fear for me. I am safe now. I can hide while search is being made. After that I shall find a home in another land."
"Another land?"
"Ay. There can be no longer a home in England for such as I. Good-bye."
Again she held out her hand, and in so doing she allowed her cloak to drop, so that I saw her face again, and again my heart grew warm as I saw it.
"I cannot let you go like this," I said. "Perchance you will need help again. If you do, then I desire to be at your side to render such service as may lie in my power."
"Why should you?" she asked. "I am a stranger to you. Our pathways have strangely crossed each other, and you have been kind to me. For this I thank you, oh, so much! but we can never meet again. Our paths lie apart. I dare not show my face to my country people. I am a Dissenter. My father is hated of the new king, while I"—here her voice grew hoarse and harsh—"I attempted to kill the man whose actions brought him back. Do you realize that, Master Rashcliffe? Since that day I have been hunted as though I were a mad dog. Since that day I have had to adopt all sorts of disguises. I have had to hide in secret places, sometimes alone, sometimes in the company of a man who—whomade me do his will, even when my heart grew sick at the thought of it."
"Then you need a friend all the more. I know nothing of the history of your marriage with Sir Charles Denman, and——"
"Do not seek to know it," she cried passionately. "I shall escape now. Since God hath led you to deliver me from Bedford Gaol, even when hope had died within my heart, will He forsake me now?"
"No, but if you need me?" I cried. "Will you not promise to send for me if you need me?"
"Is that your desire? Knowing what you know of me, do you wish to endanger yourself for me?"
"Does not my presence in Bedford to-night prove it?"
"But how may that be? Where can I send?"
"There is a man near St. Paul's Cross who keeps an inn called theVirgin Queen," I made answer. "He was once a servant of my father's. His name is Caleb Bullen. I will speak to him directly I return to London, and if you send a letter to me in care of him it will surely reach me."
I saw that she looked steadily towards me as I spoke, and I thought she hesitated.
"When I need help I will send to you. But stay! I may need protection from my—husband. Will you shield me from him?"
She said this bitterly, and as she spoke my heart became hard. Why should I seek to befriend the wife of another man? Was not her place at his side? Then I remembered the way he spoke to her in the inn at Folkestone, and while I pitied the woman, I felt like hating the man.
"I will help you against all who would harm you," I said.
She grasped my hand convulsively.
"God protect you and preserve you," she said; and then before I realized what she had done, I saw her speeding swiftly across the meadows towards the trees she had spoken of.
I started to follow her, but deemed such an action to be unwise; therefore I stopped and listened. Full five minutes did I wait, but not a sound did I hear. She haddisappeared from my view as though she were a shadow of the night. For a time she seemed but the creature of one's dreams, and the events of the night only the imaginings of a disordered mind. Yet I knew it was not so.
Presently, drawn by a curiosity which I was unable to overcome, I went towards the group of trees I have spoken of, and presently I saw a large house wellnigh hidden by much foliage. After that I stayed not a minute, but hurried back with all speed towards Bedford.
The reason for this will be plain. While I was with Mistress Constance, my one thought was to ensure her safety, but directly I was convinced that she had found a refuge, I realized my own danger. It came upon me with great suddenness that I must leave the town within an hour. I knew that the woman's flight from the gaol might be discovered any moment, and thus I should, if I were not careful, be drawn into a net of difficulties. It would be easy to raise the hue and cry, and then I should nowhere find rest for the sole of my foot. I realized that the carousals consequent upon the coming of the king had allowed me to effect her escape. At no other time would it have been possible to have done such a thing. But vigilance had been suspended, and every turnkey had deemed it his duty to become drunk in the king's honour. In this also lay my hope for escape from Bedford that night.
My work, therefore, was to get into the town with all speed, to saddle Black Ben in secret, and to ride away before any man should become aware of my whereabouts. If Master Sturgeon were still asleep this might be easy, for I had taken care to examine the exits from the stable at the time when I had taken up my quarters atThe Bull. Moreover, Black Ben, although I wished he had many more hours' rest, had been well fed, and would by this time be ready for a gallop. It is true I had ridden him sixty miles, but his staying power was wonderful, and I knew he would go till he dropped.
It did not take me long to reachThe Bull, where I found the carousers still lingering. It struck me, however, that something of importance had happened. Thedrinkers were not singing and shouting, but talking eagerly.
"You say she hath escaped?" I heard some one say.
"Ay."
"What, from the county gaol?"
"Ay, and Master Sturgeon is murdered."
"Murdered!"
"It is thought that some friend of Master Leslie's found his way into the gaol, and did away with him."
"And the woman is gone?"
"So it is said. I am going thither to see. I heard the news only a minute ago."
"Who told thee?"
"One of the night watchers, and he had it from one of the turnkeys."
All this time I stood in the yard ofThe Bullbeneath an open window.
"Stay, I will go with thee," said one.
"Ay, and I would too," said another, "but I am too drunk."
"Ay, and I too," said another, "and whether Master Leslie's wench hath escaped or no, I will e'en drink till daylight."
With that two or three left the inn, while I cautiously found my way into the stable.
I knew that if I did not get away within the next few minutes my liberty, and perhaps my life, could not be valued at a silver groat.
If ever a man worked quickly and silently it was I. In less time than it takes me to tell I had thrown Black Ben's saddle across his back and buckled the girths thereof. As the saddle-bags contained nought of value, I had no trouble with them, and before a minute had passed away the bridle was around my horse's head.
"Come, my boy," I whispered, "there is a hard gallop before you, so we must haste."
Whether he understood me or no I dare not say, but he whinnied as though he knew my will, and followed my lead into the yard. I had opened the gate on entering, and it had struck me, even as I had done this, how easy it would have been for a horse-thief to enter the stable and take whatever nag he pleased, as far as the ostler was concerned. Not that I troubled about Black Ben, for no man but myself had been on his back since he was foaled, neither, for that matter, dare any man do this. For while he was obedient to my hand, and was as gentle as a lamb with me, he would not suffer another to mount him. In truth, the ostler was afraid of him when I brought him in, neither would Black Ben have allowed him even to bring his corn had I not spoken to him, and bidden him be quiet. I had no fear, therefore, that any man would steal him. Thus when I unfastened the stable gate with so much ease, I had no fear that I should not find him waiting for me.
As I led him out into the yard Black Ben pricked up his ears, as though he heard strange sounds, and on seeing this my heart sank in my shoes, for I heard a number ofpeople running, and as far as I could judge they were coming towards the inn.
"Where is he? Is he gone?"
"Where is who gone?"
This question was asked by some one who stood by the front door of the inn.
"The young stranger from London."
"Why, what hath he done?"
"Spirited away Master Leslie's daughter. Where is he?"
"In bed hours ago, I expect. He drank nought, but just listened to what the rest were saying."
"Hath he paid his count?"
"Nay. He hath had nought but boiled beef for his supper, and a pint of ale to wash it down. That is but a little matter. Then when he hath paid for his bed and breakfast, he will owe me but a crown."
"But is he in bed?"
"Nay, I know not. This is not a time to know whether a man be in bed or no. Every man hath desired to drink the king's health, and so I have e'en been kept busy drawing ale. But I will send and find out."
"Ay, send and find out. But did you not see him go away with Master Sturgeon?"
"That did I not. Have I not told you that I have been over-busy to-night?"
"Well, he must be found. It is he who hath spirited away Master Leslie's daughter."
"Nay, man, how could he do that?"
"He wellnigh killed Master Sturgeon, locked him in the county gaol, took his keys, and liberated the maid. I tell you he hath done this."
"A pretty cock-and-bull story!"
"But I tell you he hath. One of the turnkeys was found sober enough to unlock the governor's door, and after he woke him, Master Sturgeon told the turnkey that he had been imprisoned by the young stranger from London."
"Say that Queen Mary hath come to life again. I tell you, you be all too drunk to know the truth of this."
"Not so, Master Jiggins; we have been drinking as men should, but we be not so drunk as that. Besides, MasterFulton—the town clerk, saw a man and a woman together not far from the gaol, but he did not think it could be Master Leslie's daughter, because the man claimed to be the friend of Sir William Bilton, and, as you know, Sir William despises Master Leslie as every Quaker rascal should be despised."
At this moment some one must have spoken to Master Jiggins from within, for I heard him say, "The chambermaid hath it that no one is in the young stranger's bedchamber."
"Then hath he escaped. But we must find him. The town clerk hath it that ten guineas will be given to him who will lay hands on him."
"But where is the warrant for this?"
"Master Fulton's word is enough warrant, Master Jiggins. But stay, he hath a horse. Is the horse in the stable?"
At this I knew that what I did must be done quickly. I was therefore on Black Ben's back before they could enter the yard by the door of which I had been hiding while they were speaking.
"Here he is!" cried the man who had been chief spokesman, and he made a dash at the horse's head.
"At him, my boy!" I cried, and the faithful animal darted at the fellow with open mouth.
In spite of themselves the crowd made way for me as I dashed through. Partly, I suspect, because they were not sure who I was, and partly because Black Ben careered so wildly that no man dared to approach him.
"Your count, you blackguard, your count!" I heard Master Jiggins say, who evidently cared more about that than the recapturing of Mistress Constance. Indeed, I heard in after days that Master Jiggins had a warm affection for Master Leslie, and rejoiced that she had escaped from the hands of the drunken governor.
I threw him a couple of crowns as I dashed away.
"That is double what you would have asked, Master Jiggins," I cried, and then I laughed aloud, for the whole pack of them—and there must have been at least twenty of them—stood open mouthed even while I rode away. Never did I realize how silly a number of drunken men could be, and how easy one who had kept his head clearcould deal with them. Through the whole night I had worked my will because of the king's command that every man should drink his health, and now at the last I rode away unscathed, having accomplished the thing I had come to Bedford to perform.
It was no wonder, therefore, that I should laugh. The spirit of adventure was hot within me, and now that I sat upon Black Ben's back, I knew that unless they had firearms no man could harm me. For although he had travelled from London to Bedford that day, I knew that now he had had a few hours' rest and a good feed of corn, he could do the whole journey back again and be none the worse for it. Moreover, I doubted if there was a horse in Bedford which could overtake me.
"After him! after him!" I heard some one shout. "He hath flouted us, and laughed in our faces."
Then I heard a louder cry, followed by a silence as though some one in authority had come upon the scene. I longed to shout back, so as to put them upon a false track, but reflected that the least said was the soonest mended, so I gave Black Ben rein, and before long was out of both sight and hearing of Bedford town.
Had I known then that I should soon see Bedford again under different circumstances, I do not think I should have been so light of heart. But coming events do not always cast their shadows before them, in spite of old women's wisdom; and so, feeling my good horse beneath me, and seeing the hedges fly by me as he dashed along the road, I felt that I had nought to fear.
Besides, I had succeeded far beyond my expectations. I felt sure that Mistress Constance was safe, for I knew that she was one who spoke not lightly, and as I remembered what she told me in the prison I knew that she was even then in some secret hiding-place, watched over by a faithful servant, and that perhaps even her father knew not what had become of her.