"Well, come in, Master Pearson; you can rest here as long as you like. My people are faithful, so that even if they suspected any thing, you need have no fear of their betraying you."

At a summons from the Squire the groom appeared, and was about to take Master Pearson's horse round to the stable, when he interposed.

"Stay," he said; "my beast is a sorry-looking jade, but I have a regard for the animal, and always make a rule of seeing her fed; so you will excuse me, Squire, while I go round, and I will join you presently. Take care of her heels, lad," he added, as the groom led the mare into the stable: "she has a trick of kicking, if she is not handled as she is accustomed to, for I always look after her myself. I will not unsaddle her, but just loosen the girths. There, that will do. There's as much corn there as she will require, and a few handfuls of hay will serve her for supper besides. You understand me now? You will be wise not to come into the stall unless I am here."

As he spoke, he crossed the groom's hand with a piece of silver, and having removed from the holsters a brace of pistols, which he deposited in the ample pockets of his riding-coat, he left the stable.

"You will keep an eye on the stables, and let me know if any one comes near them in my absence," he said, in a tone which made the groom feel that he was not a man to be trifled with.

With an unconstrained, independent air, Master Pearson entered the house, where the Squire stood ready to receive him. Alethea came into the supper-room for a few moments, but not liking the manner or appearance of their guest, asked leave of her father to withdraw, guessing indeed that the Squire would not require her presence during the meal.

About the hour at which the family generally retired to rest, Master Pearson rose from his seat, declaring it was time for him to take his departure.

"I must be twenty miles from hence before midnight," he observed, laughing. "I make it a rule if possible to put about that distance between the place where I am last seen, and the spot I sleep at, on most nights of the week. It is seldom I should thus fail to prove an alibi if necessary, while it would be difficult for any one, however sharp, to catch me."

The Squire accompanied his guest to the stable, where Master Pearson carefully examined his horse's hoofs, as well as the girths of his saddle, threw himself into it, and shaking hands with his host, started off at a quick trot down the avenue.

"A hard life he must have of it," thought the Squire, who was beginning to be fonder of his ease than of physical exertion. "I hope that he is trustworthy, for he has my life, and that of a good many other worthy gentlemen, in his power."



CHAPTER SEVEN.

JACK'S JOURNEY TO STOURBRIDGE, AND ADVENTURES ON THE ROAD.

Jack, when he placed his head on his pillow the last night before leaving home, fully expected to awake of his own accord the following morning; but for several hours sleep did not visit his eyelids; and when at length he opened them, he saw his eldest sister Kate leaning over him. She had been watching for some time his youthful face, which even in sleep bore so determined an expression, while the brown, strong hand outside the counterpane looked well fitted for any work he might undertake.

"Jack," she said, "you did not answer, dear brother, when I knocked at the door, and I was afraid you would over-sleep yourself: besides, I want to have a few words with you which I had no opportunity of speaking last night. Brother, you are going into a world where, although there is some good, I am afraid there is a great deal of evil, and treachery, and deceit. Though you have done wild and thoughtless things, still you know what is right, and I am sure you wish to follow it. But, dear Jack, I know you better than perhaps you know yourself. Do not trust to your own good intentions. You may think now that nothing will tempt you to do what is wrong, but remember that Satan is always going about to lead us away from the right course; therefore, Jack, I want you to look to your Bible to learn how you ought to walk, and then to pray to God that He will, by His Holy Spirit, enable you to walk aright. Here is a Bible, Jack, and I hope you will take it with you; but I must not preach more. I see you have a letter from Mr Strelley to Mr Gournay at Norwich. You know that our friend Giles Dainsforth is staying with him, and I must tell you, Jack, what I have never told you before, that I have promised to become his wife, if our father and mother will give their consent. He has not as yet much worldly wealth, but he is steady and industrious, and that will come in good time; only I want you to speak to him, and hear what he has got to say to you. It will not be time lost to you: of that I am sure. You will tell him all about us, and should he not be at home, you will make a point of trying to find him, will you not, Jack?"

As she spoke, she imprinted a kiss on her brother's brow.

"And now I will go down-stairs and get your breakfast ready. May God ever be with you, my dear brother!"

While Jack was dressing, he received a visit from his brother Jasper, who had some kind words and good advice also to give him. Although the brothers were on the best of terms, they associated very little with each other, their habits and amusements being very different. Still, Jack admired and respected Jasper for his talents, his amiable disposition, and his refined manners, though he felt little disposed to imitate the latter. Jasper had been away at the time Jack paid his farewell visit to Harwood Grange, and whether he admired Alethea or not, he at all events showed no jealousy of his brother, or annoyance at his having been there without him.

Polly's farewell was even more hearty than that of her brother and sister. Her parting salute was a slap on the back, in return for some words which he whispered in her ear, and a glance of pride, perhaps, as she saw the good figure he cut, equipped in his horseman's suit and thoroughly prepared for the road.

His parents gave him their blessing, but the manner of his father especially was somewhat cold, and showed him that the old gentleman had not altogether got over his dislike to the calling he had resolved to follow.

In a few minutes more, mounted on a stout cob, with a serviceable pair of pistols in his holsters, he was jogging along the road to Cambridge by the side of Master Brinsmead, accompanied by an ample number of drovers in charge of one of the largest droves of cattle which had for some time past left the Trent valley. It may easily be imagined that such a journey, begun in summer time, continued at short stages, with frequent delays at towns, and lonely inns, and farm-houses, was full of interest to Jack, who had only made one short trip of the sort before. The long droves of cattle went slowly along the roads, which in most places were little better than causeways roughly raised from the mud that lay on either side in bad weather. Even the best highways were allowed to fall into a miserable condition, so that carriages could with difficulty traverse them, except in the immediate neighbourhood of London and some of the larger cities. The hedge-rows every where afforded ample shade, and the wide green margins of the lanes gave space for the herd to lie down during the heat of the day. At such times Jack would pursue his beloved sport of angling—for he was never willing to be idle—and many a delicious repast of trout, and chub, and barbel did he broil over the drovers' gipsy fire. On such occasions Will Brinsmead seldom failed to bring forth his well-worn Bible, or his beloved Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress," from which, lying down with his elbow on the grass, he would read half aloud to himself, raising his voice if he saw any one approaching near enough to listen. Jack was frequently among Brinsmead's auditors.

These quiet rests were generally succeeded by the bustle which was to be found in the various towns and markets through which they passed; but though for the moment the impressions received appear to have worn off, in after-years Jack remembered his old friend's quaint remarks with no small amount of satisfaction and profit.

Brinsmead's droves were often joined by others belonging to different masters. They usually travelled as far as possible in the earliest morning hours, to secure the freedom of the roads. On all occasions the drovers were armed with various weapons to defend their charge from the cattle-stealers who were too often apt to hang upon their skirts, ready to carry off any stray beast they could find, though the gibbet was the penalty if they were captured. Trains of pack-horses also would bear them company as they approached Cambridge, carrying all kinds of stores and goods for Stourbridge Fair.

Jack, following the advice of his friend, resolved to obtain as much information as he could, and therefore often fell out from his own party, and jogged along by the side of the merchant or pedlar who seemed most ready for his society. Jack had also occasionally to ride on before the drovers, to make arrangements for the feeding and rest of the cattle with some farmer or grazier a little off the high-road. In most instances the worthy farmer was so well pleased with his honest countenance and pleasant manners, that he invited him with Master Brinsmead, who was well-known all along the road, to partake of his family supper. If good old Will found a fitting opportunity, he would on such occasions suggest reading a chapter in the Bible, which he expounded in his own peculiar phraseology, in a clear and edifying manner, never failing to offer up a fervent prayer that a blessing might rest on the house of his entertainers, that his honoured master might prosper, and that he and his companions might be preserved from the dangers of the road, and obtain a satisfactory price for their cattle. Seldom indeed did his hosts refuse his offer, or fail to be sensible that besides his fair payment for keep of man and beast, he had left a blessing behind him.

At many of these midland farms great bargaining took place, for Mr Strelley's droves supplied them with store cattle, as agriculture was beginning to be better understood than it had ever before been in England. Whole carcases were still salted down for winter consumption at the great country-houses. At these also Brinsmead and John Deane were welcome visitors, and chaffering in the steward's room, or with his honour the squire, or even with my lord or my lady herself, would frequently take up many hours of the day. They had also to buy as well as to sell, for the larger the supply they could take to Stourbridge Fair, the better would it be for their speculation.

One day Jack had been riding by the side of a travelling merchant, the owner of a train of pack-horses, when, as he was dropping behind to join his own party, he felt a hand pressed on his shoulder, and heard a voice which he thought he recognised exclaiming, "What cheer, lad? Glad to see that thou hast kept to thy intention, and taken up the honest calling of a drover. Better than cutting weasands any day for the sake of keeping a Dutch usurper on the throne," he added in a lower tone.

Jack looked at the speaker once or twice, unable to recognise him. At length it occurred to him that he was the very man who had joined him on their poaching expedition.

"I think I know you," he said, looking at him again.

"You ought to do so, for we have met before; and it was not my fault that we did not meet again," answered the stranger.

"What! Master Pearson?" said Jack, examining his countenance more narrowly, and looking down on the somewhat clumsy, ill-groomed horse which the speaker bestrode.

The animal was, however, he saw at a second glance, not destitute of bone and muscle; while the rider's expression of countenance and general appearance made it difficult to believe that he was of the pacific character his words would imply. A pair of substantial saddle-bags hung across the saddle, and Jack observed that the butts of two pistols projected from the holsters on either side.

"Why, Master Pearson, you have made good despatch with your business in the north," said Jack; "for I think I am not wrong in calling you by that name. I hope that it has been successful."

"As things generally go with me," answered Pearson carelessly. "I am now on my way south again to Cambridge and other places; for I also have some interest in the wool trade, and hope to be at Stourbridge Fair: that beats every other mart in the world, in my opinion."

"I have heard that it was far above our Goose Fair," said Jack, "though we are not ashamed of that either."

"That is a right curious name you give your fair, Master Deane," observed Pearson. "There must be a great sight of geese sold there, I'm thinking."

"Not exactly," answered Jack. "I do not know that more geese are sold then than at any other time."

"Then come, tell me why it is called Goose Fair: there must be a reason for it," said Pearson. "If you know it, out with the truth, lad."

"The reason why our Nottingham Fair is called Goose Fair? Well, if you needs must know the story, I'll out with it," said Jack, thus pressed by his companion. "Of course, having been born and bred in Nottingham, I believe all about it. You must know that some time, since bold Robin Hood ranged through Sherwood Forest, at all events between his days and ours, there dwelt within it, some ten miles away, a worthy knight and his dame. The better half of the knight was a shrew, and led him a wretched life. He had a son, on whom he bestowed all the affection which his wife might have shared. At length death relieved him of his tormentor. The dame died and was buried. He had a wonderfully heavy stone put on the top of her grave, lest she should come to life again; and then he gave all his thoughts to the education of his son. He resolved, moreover, that he should not make the mistake of which he had been guilty by marrying too early. He therefore kept the boy closely confined within the precincts of his own domain, within which not a female of any age, old or young, was allowed to enter. They were all alike, he declared. The oldest might inveigle his boy as well as the youngest. At length the lad having approached the age of twenty-one, and being perfectly contented with his lot, his father thought that he might with safety take him to Nottingham Fair where he had business. Scarcely had they dismounted from their steeds than a damsel with black eyes and rosy cheeks came tripping by. The lad regarded her with eyes of astonishment and admiration.

"'Oh, father, father, what is that curious animal?' he asked, seeming about to run after her.

"'Why, my boy, that is but a goose—a silly, weak, worthless goose,' answered the knight, greatly alarmed at the effect the sight of the damsel had had on his son. Nevertheless they entered the fair, where not one but hundreds of damsels presented themselves to the astonished gaze of the young man.

"'Ah, this must be Goose Fair!' he kept saying to himself; but being well brought up, he kept steadily by his father's side. This so well pleased the knight, that he promised to give him any fairing he might ask for.

"'Oh, thank you, dear father!' he exclaimed instantly. 'Oh, buy me a goose—by all means buy me a goose!'

"From that day to this our fair has been called Goose Fair; and really, Master Pearson, I think you'll allow that there are some very pretty geese to be seen there."

Master Pearson laughed at Jack's account, and at his notion of its importance.

"Well, there are some fairs abroad which I have visited almost on as grand a scale. There is Leipsic in Saxony, Neuremberg, and Augsburg, all great in their way, but not to be compared to Stourbridge as to the value and amount of property sold."

"What! have you ever been to those places?" asked Jack with surprise, glancing at the rough-looking drover, "or do you only speak from having heard of them?"

"Oh, I have attended the fairs held there myself!" answered Master Pearson. "I have been to many others too, such as that of Frankfort-on-the-Maine; and I tell you, my lad, the great corn-field near Casterton shows a more wonderful sight than any of them. You are lucky in having to make your first business trip there, instead of northward."

"I do not care greatly which way I ride," answered Jack cheerily; "all the world is new to me, and I want to see as much of it as I can."

"You will see a specimen of a good deal of what I call the world in a few days," said Master Pearson. "We have had such splendid weather, that the corn has been got off the fields, otherwise it would be a bad look out for the farmers. The fair-keepers have a right, you must know, to trample it under foot, and to lay out their streets, and set up their booths on the ground, whether it is standing or not. However, you'll know all about the fair when you have been there. You'll have extensive dealings in one way or another for your employer, I doubt not."

"Yes, probably," observed Jack. "We shall have a good sum to lay out, I know; for we have done very well with beasts. They say that the drovers from the north have had great losses from the attacks of Ben Nevis and his gang, who have been bolder than ever this year. It is a pity a fellow of that sort cannot be caught and hung. I have no fancy for allowing rogues to disturb honest men in their proper trade. For my part, I should like to organise a bold band of fellows and hunt down the robber. I have learned one thing—that black is black, and white is white; and though, maybe, he is a bold fellow, that is no reason he is not a rogue, and richly deserves hanging."

Master Pearson laughed as Jack spoke.

"You must catch your hare before you cook him; remember that, lad," he observed.

"There is the difficulty," answered Jack. "They say that no one has caught sight of him except at a great distance; and I am told his horse flies like a meteor, and is as light as the wind. He can follow his master up-stairs as easily as a cat, and up a tree for that matter, I verily believe, and will leap down precipices high enough to break the bones of any ordinary man or horse. Thus there is scarcely a chance of coming up with him, although the country has been scoured again and again, and even some of his rogues have been caught and hung."

"A valuable animal that you speak of," observed Master Pearson coolly. "I dare say his master is as proud of him as I am of my poor beast, who, though he has no great speed, is a trusty friend on the road, and has carried me many a long mile. 'Slow and sure' is his motto."

"I do not fancy that you always ride at a slow pace though, Master Pearson," observed Jack, laughing carelessly. "Your legs cling too tightly to your horse's sides, and you have too easy a seat in your saddle to care much for a slow beast, sure as he may be."

"I was bred in Yorkshire, Master Jack Deane," answered Pearson with a peculiar glance at Jack. "Every boy there knows how to bestride a horse as soon as he can run; though, to be sure, I won't deny that I have taken a gallop now and then in my day. And now I think we understand each other. You remember our meeting down by the river-side: I took a fancy to you on that night, and I told you I had something to talk to you about. Are you willing to hear it now? But I have no fancy that any passer should hear the chance words we may let drop: so speak low when you reply my ears are sharp enough; and you will give me your word of honour that you will not repeat what you hear of me, unless I give you leave."

Jack, whose curiosity had been aroused by what Master Pearson had said, gave the required promise, and without further circumlocution his companion proposed to him a scheme which Jack would have been the wiser had he at the first refused to listen to.

Master Pearson showed himself to be an able diplomatist, and Mr Harwood would have been thoroughly satisfied had he heard the way in which his wishes were carried out.

"Think of what I have been saying, my lad," he continued. "You have got the right qualities in you, depend upon that, and it's your own fault if you don't rise in the world in the way I have pointed out. And now, farewell; we shall meet again before long, I doubt not; but I have some business to settle a short distance off the road, and I must get free of this crowd."

Saying this, Pearson shook Jack by the hand, and trotted past him at a quick rate. A wide ditch and hedge divided the road from a large field, along which the way was free and open. A few drovers only were in sight, urging on their cattle. Jack, who had kept his eye on his late companion, was somewhat surprised to see his seemingly sorry jade take a spring which cleared both hedge and ditch, and then to observe him cantering along the field at a rate which would have distanced many horses at a gallop.

"He is a strange person," thought Jack, "but he seems good-natured and well-intentioned. I cannot make him out, but as to doing what he advises, I must take time to consider about that."



CHAPTER EIGHT.

ATTACKED BY CATTLE-LIFTERS.

Jack, drawing up by the side of the road, waited till Brinsmead again overtook him, and then jogged on as before quietly by his side.

"Well, Master Deane, I hope you have not been engaged in any idle conversation with the varlets you have fallen in with along the road," said the old man. "There are some good men and true among them, but not a few rogues too, depend on that. For my part, I think it's generally wiser to keep myself to myself, unless one meets a godly man who can discourse discreetly on spiritual matters."

Jack was afraid that his good old friend was about to commence one of his long discourses. He therefore, to put a stop to it, and feeling that it was right to do so, mentioned his encounter with the stranger, though he was compelled by his promise not to say he had met him before, or to repeat the main subject of his conversation. He could not help remarking the contrast between the expression of honest Brinsmead's countenance, as he jogged along on his steady old grey horse, and that of Master Pearson: the one free and open, with a kind smile generally playing over it, and the other strongly marked and coarse, with a cunning look in the eyes, and a constant tendency to a sneer on the lips.

"After all, I had better not trust that man," he said to himself. "His words are seemingly fair, but I don't altogether like him."

Brinsmead and Jack continued along the road for some way, with high banks and thick-set hedges on either side, till they reached a flat at the bottom of a dip, extending for a considerable distance, along which the water lay pretty deep, having long overflowed its proper banks, and wandered lazily for miles over meadows on either side of the road. Here they were stopped by a cart greatly overloaded with wood, the two heavy wheels of one side having sunk deep in the mud. An old man in smock-frock, and five or six other carters in the same dress were working hard, apparently to extricate the waggon.

"Why don't the fellows unload the cart?" exclaimed Jack; "they will never get it out otherwise."

The pack-horses and the other herds must have passed before the accident had occurred; for there was scarcely room to allow the animals to get by between the cart and the ditch. Just as Mr Strelley's herd arrived at the waggon, over it went, completely blocking up the road.

"Had we not better try and help them?" exclaimed Jack to Brinsmead; "they will never do it of themselves, and we should soon get the wood off the waggon."

"Let us see how they manage for themselves first," answered Brinsmead. "I don't see what business they have to upset their waggon just at this moment. It is my belief that they could have prevented the accident had they chosen, from the way it went over."

Meantime the drovers with shouts and blows were turning back the herd, to prevent them rushing into the water, which they were about to do when they found they could pass no other way.

"Shall we help you?" cried Jack to the carters. "We should soon with a few ropes be able to get your wheels on dry ground, if you take the weight off the top."

"Mind your own business, young man!" exclaimed a voice from the neighbourhood of the cart. "We know what we're about, and that's more than you do, I'm thinking."

"I do not like the look of things," said Brinsmead to Jack. "I will stay here, and you go back and see after the cattle; I don't know what may be happening otherwise."

Jack accordingly, whip in hand, rode back, the herd being much more separated than usual. As he went on, he saw a considerable number of stragglers in the rear; and as he approached them, what was his astonishment to find that they were being driven away by a dozen fellows or more across the country! He instantly put spurs to his horse and galloped after them, drawing a pistol, and holding it in his hand as he advanced. The cattle-lifters, however,—for such there could be no doubt they really were,—took no notice of his approach, only urging on the beasts the faster. As he came up to the nearest man, he pulled the trigger, but the pistol flashed in the pan; while the man at whom he aimed uttered a scornful laugh in return. His second pistol behaved in the same manner; and on putting his hand in his pocket for his powder-flask, he found that that had gone.

"You will get the worst of it," cried the man, "if you attempt to approach," drawing, as he spoke, a pistol from under his smock-frock. "You had better go back and look after the rest of the beasts, and think yourself fortunate we have not taken the whole of them."

Jack had lifted his heavy stock-whip, intending to dash in at the man; but at that instant the report of fire-arms from the direction of the cart which had been upset reached his ears. It was too evident that Brinsmead and the rest of the men had been attacked, and Jack felt he could be of most use by riding back to assist them. As he was hastening on, approaching the rear of the frightened herd, a horseman who had just come along the road approached him. The stranger, from the pistols in his belt and his general appearance, was, he had no doubt, one of the gang of cattle-lifters. Jack, however, was not inclined to yield without a struggle. Drawing therefore a long knife, or rather dagger, which he carried in a sheath in his belt, he dashed at the horseman.

"Halloo there, my lad, sheathe your blade, if you have not a fancy for having your brains blown out!" exclaimed the other, quietly at the same time drawing a pistol from his belt.

Jack saw that he was covered by the weapon, and restraining his anger exclaimed, "These beasts are under my charge, and I want to know by what right you and your people dare to drive them off the road?"

"By the right of might," answered the robber, for such he seemed to be. "Just calm yourself, my lad; perhaps we may settle matters more easily than you now fancy. You will understand that we could manage to carry off every one of your drove if we chose, but we do not wish to do that. Will you listen to my terms?"

"I will listen to them, but will not undertake to agree to them," answered Jack. "What are they?"

"We will take ten shillings sterling a head for every one of the cattle in the drove. If you agree to that, those which have been driven off shall be returned; if not, we shall take the liberty of helping ourselves to as many as we fancy."

"I will mention the terms you propose to our head drover," answered Jack: "if he agrees to them, I have not a word to say to the contrary."

"Well, be smart about it, my lad. Will Brinsmead is a man of sense, so I have no doubt he will listen to reason on this occasion. Hasten down, therefore, to your friends in the swamp there; they and our men have played long enough at quarter-staff; and mark you, if Brinsmead does not like my offer, remind him I have the power to settle the business in another way."

Jack looked doubtfully at the horseman, fearing that when he went up to the front, more of the cattle would be driven off.

"You need not be afraid, Mr Deane; your cattle are safe enough, I give you my word for it: none shall be taken till you come back," said the robber, observing Jack's hesitation.

Jack found Brinsmead looking very disconsolate at the turn affairs had taken.

"We have fallen among the Philistines, Jack, and it's not likely they will let us go till they have fleeced us completely."

"Cheer up, Master Brinsmead!" said Jack. "I will speak to them, and see what can be done."

On this Jack called a parley with their opponents, who seemed prepared for the proposal; but not without much grief and many doubts did Will Brinsmead listen to the terms. Seeing, however, that his chance of escape was hopeless, he at length consented to pay the levier of black-mail his iniquitous dues. On this Jack rode back to the top of the rise where he had left the horseman, and told him that the arrangement was agreed to.

"Well, then, send your people to look after the beasts, and I will come down and settle with worthy Master Brinsmead. You will not find it silver thrown away, let me tell you; for we shall take care that not a crown more will you have to pay till you get safe back to your master with the profits of your journey."

With many a groan and sigh Brinsmead produced his leathern purse from a side-pocket carefully secured round him, and counted out the pieces into the broad palm of the cattle-lifter, who coolly deposited them in his pouch, as if he had been receiving the result of an honest bargain. Meantime the waggon without much difficulty was lifted up from its position, and dragged on one side to allow the beeves to pass by.

"I will give you an acknowledgment if you like, friend," said the robber with a laugh. "If you will write out the paper, I will sign it with my mark; for as to writing, it's an art I never learned."

"How came you to know my name?" asked Jack. "I don't remember you."

"We know every body who travels along this road, and maybe we have met before, though you don't recollect me," answered the robber. "And now farewell to you, and may you find a good market for your beasts, and success in all your dealings."

Saying this, the robber turned his horse, and rode up the hill, while the rest of the band withdrew quickly out of sight. The poor fellows who had been hurt were placed on horseback, and Brinsmead and Jack Deane trudged along by their side, considerably downcast by the adventure. Brinsmead had never appeared so much put out.

"This comes of the way you have of talking to all the people you meet, Mr Deane," he observed, in a tone very unlike that he usually used. "I have a belief that the man you were riding so long by the side of has had something to do with this day's business. I marked him when he passed me, and I told you then that I did not like his looks."

"You mean Master Pearson, I suppose," answered Jack. "I cannot make out how he can have had any thing to do with the thieves. He told me all about himself; and if he was not an honest man, he would not have done that. He is a Yorkshireman, a dealer in wool and drapery, and is on his way to Stourbridge Fair and Newmarket. If he had had any sinister motive, he would not have spoken as frankly as he did."

"Then who stole your powder-flask, and drew the bullets out of your pistols?" asked Brinsmead.

"Not the man you speak of, certainly," said Jack. "I looked at the priming of my pistols this morning, and they were all right, though to be sure, not thinking that they might have been tampered with, I did not examine the charges. However, he could not have done it while riding alongside of me. In what state did you find your pistols, Brinsmead?"

"I must own, Jack, they would not go off either; and yet I did this morning what I always do, examine them before starting, when I have my master's property to defend upon the road."

"But did you never lose sight of them after you had examined them?" asked Deane.

Brinsmead thought a few moments.

"Yes, I remember now, for once I did; and now I think of it, I remember seeing a man, very like the fellow who has just left us, watching me as I went out. That's it, depend on it."

While Brinsmead was speaking, he pulled out his pistols and examined them with his ramrod. The charge of both had been withdrawn. He put them back into his holsters with a look of annoyance.

"Ah! these are old tricks, and more shame to me I was not up to them; but now, for the sake of the poor fellows we have got here, we must push on as fast as we can get the drove over this mud and these mortally bad roads. There's a house called Winn's Farm about three miles off from here, where we shall be able to get good pasturage, and the men will be well looked after."

Pushing on, in the course of another hour the drove approached Winn's Farm which had been spoken of, when Deane walked on before that he might explain to the farmer what had happened, and make arrangements for remaining there during the night. The names of Mr Strelley of Nottingham and his old drover were well-known along the road, and accordingly a kindly welcome was given to the whole party. The kine were turned into some good grazing-ground, and the wounded drovers were carefully placed on a bed, and their hurts looked to by Dame Winn, the farmer's wife. The good woman prided herself on her surgical knowledge, having received instructions from her mother, who in her younger days had had unhappily, during the Civil Wars, too much opportunity of gaining experience in the art of attending to gunshot wounds.

"We must have better laws, Master Brinsmead; these sort of things cannot be allowed in the country," observed Farmer Winn, when his guests were seated round his hospitable board, at which all his family, as well as the drovers and his old farm-servants, were also assembled. "I have suffered from some of these caterans from the north, so I have a fellow-feeling with you, I can tell you."

"The laws are not so bad," answered Brinsmead, "but we want people to carry them out. The king is willing enough, but it is hard to get people to assist him. However, things are improving in many respects, and depend upon it these gentlemen have not a much longer course to run."

Will Brinsmead had no objection to the good things of life, and while enjoying the substantial fare set before him by Farmer Winn and his good dame, soon forgot the annoyance he had suffered.



CHAPTER NINE.

STOURBRIDGE FAIR—ADVENTURES AT CAMBRIDGE.

As Will Brinsmead and John Deane with their charge approached Cambridge, they found the roads, always far from good, becoming worse and worse, in consequence of the vast amount of traffic which had passed over them; while crowds of other small dealers and purchasers from all parts of the country would account for the vast concourse of people who were to be seen both in the town of Cambridge, along the banks of the river, and thickly scattered over the meadows. From all directions were seen moving on carts, waggons, caravans, and vehicles of all sorts, from London and elsewhere, as well as innumerable trains of pack-horses laden with Yorkshire goods from Leeds, Halifax, and other towns in an apparently endless succession, bound for the Duddery, the great mart for wholesale dealers in woollen manufactures, which was to occupy a considerable portion of the meadow in which the fair was held. In the vehicles from London were conveyed milliners, toy-sellers, goldsmiths, turners, haberdashers, mercers, drapers, hatters, and in fact representatives of all the trades of the metropolis.

At a short distance from Cambridge the drove came fairly to a stop, when, as it chanced, Brinsmead and Jack found close to them, mounted on a tall pack-horse, a personage who by the peculiar cut of his somewhat threadbare garments they took to be a humble student of divinity. He wore a shabby cassock and a shovel hat, sitting the animal on which he journeyed sideways with a book in his hand, making a reading-desk occasionally of a bale of some sort which towered above the horse's neck. Old Will at once entered into conversation with him, and confided afterwards to Jack that he had been highly edified by his correct and judicious remarks. Jack had, however, remarked a peculiar twinkle in the student's eye when talking to the old man, which made him suspect his sincerity. He appeared, however, to be very well informed on many subjects, and still further won Master Brinsmead's heart by showing that he possessed some knowledge of the art of breeding cattle, and of healing their diseases, but little understood in those days. They were, however, again separated, and no more was seen of the divinity student.

At length the towers and spires of Cambridge, rising from the groves and gardens of the classic Cam, came in sight.

When Jack Deane rode up to the far-famed meadow, he might well be astonished at the scene he beheld. The sun shone brilliantly on a vast expanse of canvas, with bright-coloured streamers flying over it, and appropriate sign-boards, gilt weathercocks, and other painted ornaments, forming regular streets, and reaching from the high-road which runs between Cambridge and Newmarket to the river.

The "Duddery" was separated from the rest of the fair, and contained larger and more substantial buildings for the display of its valuable bales and its vast pockets of wool, one of which was sufficient to load a waggon. Here, too, great quantities of Yorkshire clothing were exhibited for sale, as well as the produce of the hosiery towns, such as Nottingham, Leicester, and Derby. The sale of wool, however, did not begin till the lighter goods had been disposed of, so that Brinsmead and Deane had ample time to execute the various commissions with which they had been entrusted, and to wander about and to enjoy the wonders of the fair, which Jack did to his heart's content.

One whole street was devoted to hardware of all sorts, from excellent Dutch delf to the coarse pottery furnished by Staffordshire, with occasional luxuries in the form of Chelsea tea-services, or costly jars of grotesque shapes from Pekin, sent by the London china-shops. All sorts of toys and fancy articles were to be found. Painted mirrors, which were then greatly in fashion, fans, long leathern gloves, jewelled snuff-boxes, wooden balls, and whirligigs might be seen, to satisfy the fancy of those who came rather for amusement than business. The great characteristic of the fair, however, lay in the enormous quantity of merchandise of the best quality that was accumulated there from all parts of England. The price of hops was fixed in Kent and Herefordshire by their value at Stourbridge Fair, and the horse-market and the cattle-market were the largest of the year any where. Nearly a thousand horse-packs of Yorkshire cloths, such as kerseys, fustians, and pennistons, together with Manchester goods, took up one side and a half of the Duddery, and it was not uncommon to hear that 100,000 pounds worth of woollen manufactures had been sold there in less than one week's time.

Among the tents and sheds were eating-houses and innumerable places of refreshment, and coarse entertainment to suit the lowest tastes, with the customary sights and shows popular at such gatherings. Dwarfs and giants, jugglers and ballet-dancers and rope-dancers with their painted booths were more common than wonders from foreign lands. Mountebanks attracted also great attention, and so also did some curious clocks from Neuremberg, and Dutch figures made to move by concealed machinery. Play-actors and mummers also were to be found, some of their troupe in front of their large booths drumming and piping and shouting, and inviting the passers-by to enter and behold the wonders they had to exhibit. There were tumblers also, and fat pigs, and learned pigs, and dancing bears, indeed sufficient exhibitions of all sorts to captivate and amuse every description of taste.

Brinsmead, as he walked through the fair, kept Jack close to him. The play-actors especially excited his indignation.

"Don't look that way, lad," he observed; "they are seducing follies, just invented by Satan to lead the young astray, and no good ever came to those who have frequented such places. I would I were the chief magistrate, to put them all down; but the Evil One must have his way, I'm afraid, though it will be a happy day when he is driven out of the world."

The magistrates' booth held an important position in the array of lath and canvas, which had been erected as soon as the harvest had been got off the ground. Here a regular court of justice was held as long as the fair lasted. The magistrates wore their gowns and gold chains of office, and arrived every day in some considerable state by water from Cambridge, when they were generally followed by a crowd of gaily-painted barges and passenger-wherries, which had, as has been said, been brought from London. All disputes arising out of the traffic of the fair were settled at the magistrates' booth, which was also duly attended by constables and several officials, to preserve order and bring up culprits.

The liveliness and brilliancy of the scene were greatly increased by the dresses of the many-coloured crowd: the gay cloth jackets and gold and silver lace, the bright ribbons in the head-dresses of the women, and the feathers in those of the men. These were the days when stockings of the brightest hue were worn by the women, with silver and variously coloured clocks, and high-heeled shoes; while the habits of the men were varied and many-coloured. No one seemed at rest. Men, women, and children were moving about in all directions; now stopping before the mercers' shops, or the sempsters from Cheapside, or looking into those of the goldsmiths: while the vintners were never without a crowd inside or out of their booths. Here was a quack doctor selling his infallible specifics from his cart, promising an unfailing cure for all manner of diseases. There was a mountebank conjurer seated on a table, performing all sorts of wonders before a gaping crowd. Here stood a seeming orator on a barrel, vociferating at the top of his voice, generally, however, inviting purchasers for some article of which his partner, who sat below him, had to dispose. The venerable town itself was of course overflowing with visitors of every degree, and one-half the guests at the inns were accommodated in the stables or lofts, where travellers of higher degree than Brinsmead and Deane were thankful to sleep on straw.

Their first business was very soon accomplished, as the butchers, to whom Mr Strelley's beasts were well-known, looked forward to supply themselves regularly from those which were brought to them by his drovers. The sums obtained for the cattle were to be spent in wool and hops; and besides this more important business, Brinsmead and Deane, with their men, had a great variety of private purchases to make for their families and friends.



CHAPTER TEN.

JACK ENCOUNTERS MASTER PEARSON, AND GOES TO NORWICH.

"Vanity Fair! Vanity Fair all over!" exclaimed Brinsmead to Jack, as they worked their way amidst the gaily-clad talking, higgling, laughing, shouting throng. "It's many a day since I came to this part of the meadow. It becometh me more to keep to the Duddery, where staple wares are to be found, than to be wandering about in this fool's paradise; but I wished you, my young friend, to see what is to be seen, that I may point out its folly, and that you might not be fancying you had missed some great delight. See yonder shouting fool, with bells and cap and painted face, grimacing away to the gaping crowd, who think him the merriest fellow they have ever set eyes on. Look into the poor wretch's heart, and, take my word for it, it's well-nigh breaking. Maybe he has a sickly wife and ten small children at home, who will starve if he ceases to grimace: so grimace he must to the end of the chapter. But who is this? An old friend, I verily believe!"

"Yea, and a trusty one, friend Brinsmead," said a person who at that moment confronted Will, and took him cordially by the hand. "But what can have brought you into this hurly-burly of folly and wickedness?"

"And what has brought you into the midst of the same hurly-burly, Job Hodgkinson?" asked Will.

"I desired to make a short cut from the Duddery, and took my way across it," answered the stranger.

Jack did not hear more of what was said; for Will having let go his arm, and the crowd pressing on them, they were speedily separated from each other. Jack looked about for his friend, but old Brinsmead's low-crowned hat was completely concealed by the higher beavers of more pretentious and taller persons. He pushed on as well as he could among the crowd, hoping to overtake Brinsmead, but probably passed him. Suddenly he caught sight, as he thought, of the worthy drover's broad-built figure, moving in a different direction to what he had expected at a pretty quick rate. This made Jack exert himself to overtake him. By the time he came up with the chase, he found that he had been following a stranger. At last, after wandering about in all directions, he gave up the search as hopeless, and determined to amuse himself as best he could, and then to try and find his way back to their quarters in Cambridge.

Jack, not quite entering into Brinsmead's opinions with regard to the wrongfulness of watching the tricks of the mummers and mountebanks and other similar performers, had stopped before the booth of a conjurer, who was by his amusing tricks producing a succession of broad grins on the countenances of a crowd of rustics standing round him, and occasional loud shouts of laughter. As the hubbub for a moment ceased, Jack heard his name pronounced; and turning round, he saw two persons of a class superior to the generality of the crowd standing close to him. The eyes of one of them especially were fixed on him. The other he recognised as the humble college student who had passed him and Brinsmead on their entrance into Cambridge. A second glance showed him that the student's companion was no other than his quondam acquaintance Master Pearson, though no longer habited as a drover, but as a substantial merchant, with a long coat of fine broadcloth, a broad-brimmed beaver on the top of his periwig, a long neckcloth, and high-heeled shoes with huge buckles.

"Ah, you are surprised to see me, Master Deane!" he observed with a laugh, putting out his hand. "I told you that I was a dealer in woollen goods, so that it is but fit I should appear in the proper guise of a decent merchant, instead of in the habit of a common rough-rider, in which you have before seen me. We have well met, for I have been hunting for you through the fair; and my reverend friend here told me he thought he had seen you, and would assist me in the search. I have brought a despatch for you from a friend; for since we parted I have ridden to Nottingham and back again, and have a communication of importance to make to you. It must be in private though, for it will not do to have eaves-droppers, and we know not who standing round might hear us. Where is worthy Will Brinsmead?"

Jack in reply told Pearson how he had lost his friend in the crowd, and begged to be informed of the tenour of the communication.

"I told you that I cannot deliver it out here," answered Pearson; "so come along with me and my reverend friend, Master Simon Stirthesoul; for you have not a chance of meeting with Brinsmead again before nightfall; and I will see you afterwards to your lodgings, if you cannot find the way by yourself."

Jack instinctively gave a hopeless glance round once more for his friend, and then seeing no signs of him, agreed to accompany Pearson and the minister. Pearson seemed anxious not to let Jack escape him, for he took him by the arm, and held it fast while they were working their way through the crowd. This took some time, for the busy throng seemed in no way inclined to make room for them. At length, however, they reached the banks of the Cam, where Master Pearson hailed a wherry and bargained with the rowers to convey them to Cambridge. By this time the shades of evening were coming on, and Jack could not help feeling glad that he had fallen in with Master Pearson, rather than have to find his way by himself back to Cambridge. Never was the river more alive with boats passing and repassing, filled with all descriptions of people, from the magistrate with his chain and cloak of office, his gold-headed mace, and gaudily dressed officials, to small tradesmen and humble artisans with their wives and families. Many returning from the fair were shouting and singing, evidently having paid frequent visits to the vintners' shops, while the children blew their trumpets and sprung their rattles, as an accompaniment to the vocal music of their elders.

On disembarking from the wherry, Pearson, instead of entering the town, led the way to a distant part of the outskirts, stopping at the door of what appeared to be a small farm-house. A knock with his walking-stick gained him admittance, when exchanging a few words with the inmates, he desired his companions also to enter. A decent-looking woman placed a tankard of ale, with pipes and tobacco, before them, and then, without making any remark, withdrew to an inner room.

"They are trustworthy," observed Pearson, as he closed the door; "and now, Master Deane, I will deliver my message. In the first place, you remember that evening I met you down by the water-meadows. It appears that in some way or other you have offended your companions on that evening, and one of them being taken up on suspicion of poaching with the hope of saving his own carcass a flogging, or the pillory, has informed against you and me. You will, therefore, find it somewhat dangerous to revisit your native town for the present. Your friend Mr Harwood hearing of this, and knowing that I had become acquainted with you, sent you this packet, which you will examine at your leisure. It contains a further supply of introductions to several people of importance which he wishes you particularly to deliver in person, and I promised him to invite you to accompany me in the journey I propose making shortly to the north. You will there enjoy a wilder sort of life than you will find in this part of the country, and meet with a variety of characters which will afford you a subject of amusement."

"How provoking!" exclaimed Jack; "I did not think Smedley and Bligh would have turned traitors; and—and—" he hesitated for some seconds.

"You mean to say, you would like to pay another visit to Harwood Grange," said Pearson, with a laugh. "Well, to my mind, you will serve your own purpose better if you carry out Mr Harwood's wishes. In a few months probably the matter will be forgotten, and in the mean time you can see something of the world. A trip over to the Continent would be of interest."

"But I have engaged to accompany Brinsmead to Norwich," observed Jack; "and I have several commissions of importance to execute there for Mr Strelley. I must not neglect them."

"No need for you to do so," answered Pearson. "Go on to Norwich, as you purpose, and I will meet you in a week's time at Saint Faith's. I have agreed to wait there for a party of Highland drovers, who are on their way south with some large herds of lean beasts, for the purpose of getting flesh put upon them in the Lincolnshire fens. What do you say to this plan?"

"I will think it over," said Jack. "I would rather go back to Nottingham and meet the charge like a man. If a fine would get me off, I would sell every thing I possess; though I have no fancy for the pillory, I will confess."

"You would run a great risk of the pillory, let me tell you," observed Pearson; "so I would advise you to carry out the plan I proposed; I think our reverend friend here will give you the same advice."

"Indeed would I, my son," observed the minister; "and though by it you have made yourself amenable to the laws, I cannot see that you are called upon of your own free will to expiate your offence by undergoing the punishment that would await you. I propose to accompany Master Pearson, and may be I shall be able to give you such counsel and advice as will keep you in future from committing such follies and transgressions. These are bad times we live in. Our ancient customs are being overthrown daily, and no man can say where it will all end."

"I thought that most people were pretty well contented now that King William is firmly seated on the throne, and that great improvements are taking place throughout the country in all directions," observed Jack, repeating the remarks he had often heard made by his father, Dr Deane, the Worshipful Mr Pinkstone, and others.

The minister sighed.

"What some call improvements others may look upon in a very different light," he observed; "but we will talk of these things by and by, my young friend; perhaps matters which you now see in one light, you may then see in another."

It is scarcely necessary to repeat the conversation which took place. Jack was excessively puzzled with many of the remarks made by his companions, especially by the divinity student, who seemed to have notions very different to those held in general by Puritan divines. He was evidently a shrewd man, with cunning, piercing eyes, and sharp features, professing to care very little for the good things of life. It appeared that he was to remain at the house where they then were, for Master Pearson wished him good night, and, telling him that he would return anon, invited Jack to accompany him into Cambridge, where he would endeavour to find out the Cat and Whistle, the sign of the hostelry at which Brinsmead and his drovers had put up.

"No necessity to tell old Will what we have been talking about," observed Pearson; "especially that poaching matter, for instance. Tell him that you have received instructions to part company with him at Saint Faith's; and if you render exact account of all your transactions, and give him up any money you may have received belonging to Mr Strelley, he can have no cause of complaint."

Pearson accompanied Deane to the entrance of the inn, where, shaking him warmly by the hand, he said, "Remember Saint Faith's; for your own sake keep to your present intention."

Jack followed Pearson's advice with regard to the account he gave of the cause of his absence. Old Will fixed his keen grey eyes upon him; and Jack could not help feeling that he looked at him with suspicion.

"It's always that Master Pearson!" observed old Will; "I should like to have a few words with him myself. I don't like these strangers who come dodging our steps and turning up in all manner of places. I have an idea, Master Jack, that he has been using you as a pump, to get up through you what information he can about our business. Now, Jack, if you have been communicative to him, you have acted like a fool, and, more than that, have done very wrong. A wise man should keep all his own affairs to himself; and still closer should he keep his master's affairs. They are not his property, remember; and he who talks about them is giving away what is not his own, and that no honest man will do."

"You are hard upon me, Master Brinsmead!" said Jack. "I am not conscious of having said any thing about Mr Strelley's affairs to Pearson, or to any one else. I have committed faults in my time, that I know, and am very likely to have to pay the penalty—I rather hope I may—but I have never acted dishonourably to any one who has trusted me."

Jack, though he spoke thus, was not altogether comfortable in his mind. That night's fishing expedition, and many others of a similar character, which he was conscious were unlawful, rose up before him. Besides, he felt he had spoken more freely to Master Pearson than he ought to have done, though he had not, that he was aware of, communicated any information which might prove detrimental to the interests of his employer. For the first time in his life, perhaps, he had little inclination for supper, while his dreams were far from being of a pleasant character.

The next day he and Brinsmead, with all their party, had an abundance of work to get through. One of the company of pack-horses had to be laden with wool and sent off to Nottingham, while another was got ready to proceed to Norwich. Brinsmead and Jack were to accompany the latter.

The wool for Norwich was to supply with material the worsted manufacture carried on in that town. It had long been noted for it, having been introduced by the Flemings as early as the twelfth century; and it was followed up in latter years by that of Sayes arras and bombasins. Gauzes and crapes had of late years been introduced by the French Huguenot refugees, to whom every encouragement was wisely afforded to set up their looms and other machines.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

JACK'S VISIT TO MR GOURNAY—THE STORY OF MADAME LE MERTENS.

Evening was drawing on when Brinsmead and Jack saw the towers of the numerous churches which Norwich possessed, each situated on its own peculiar mound or hill. On entering the town, they proceeded through its narrow and winding streets to the Bear Inn, which Brinsmead usually frequented.

"There is time to present your letters this evening," he observed to Jack. "When there's business to be done there's nothing like doing it immediately. It's provoking to find when you have delayed that the person whom you wished to meet has left the town the morning after your arrival, when you might have found him had you gone to his abode immediately."

Jack, nothing loath, prepared himself to call upon Mr Gournay. He liked old Brinsmead very well in his way; but could not help sighing for more refined society than his late companions afforded. He therefore put on his Sunday suit, and made himself as presentable as possible. He had no difficulty in finding his way to Mr Gournay's handsome and substantial residence, it being one of the principal mansions in the place. The great merchant himself was out; but he was admitted into the presence of the mistress of the family, who received him with a sweet and matronly grace. She wore her soft brown hair without the addition of any false curls, a rich grey silk gown woven by the Huguenot weavers in Spitalfields, a Norwich-crape shawl, and fine Flemish cambric in her cap, neckerchief, and ruffles. Although it was the custom for ladies of rank to wear rouge as thick as paste, she wore none. She made many inquiries after her esteemed friends Mr and Mrs Strelley, as well as Jack's father and mother, and invited him to remain for their evening meal, which was to be served as soon as Mr Gournay and the other gentlemen inmates of their family returned. While they were speaking four young boys came into the room, whom Mrs Gournay introduced as her sons. They were followed by a tall and graceful lady in deep mourning, no longer young, but bearing traces of considerable beauty.

"I must make you known to my friend and inmate Madame de Mertens," said Mrs Gournay. "She speaks English perfectly, having resided with us for some years, since she was compelled by the Popish Government of France to quit her native country."

"Ah, yes; and I have found a happy and quiet home here," said the lady. "If those I have lost could be restored to me, I would willingly abandon all hopes of regaining the fortune and estate I once enjoyed. Ah, Monsieur Deane," she exclaimed, after some further conversation had passed between them, "how can any English people regret their Popish king? I am told that even now among your noblest families there are some ready to risk life and fortune to bring him back! See what ours has done for us! Think of the atrocities of his barbarous dragoons in our Protestant districts—peaceful homes given up to pillage, to fire, and the sword. The best of our pastors flogged, and tortured in other ways, imprisoned in loathsome dungeons—what do I say? worse, oh, worse than all! the horrors of the galleys reserved for the noblest and best, for such as my own dear husband Eugene, who, if he still lives, may yet be labouring at the oar, among slaves and outcasts of all nations! Oh, may heaven in mercy rescue him from such an existence!"

She ceased, for her feeling, roused by the recollection of the terrible scenes she had gone through, overcame her power of speech. She hid her face for some moments in her hands!

"I should not have ventured to speak on this subject," she said, when she again looked up. "My husband was Dutch, of an old family; but when he married me he became naturalised as a Frenchman. For a few years after our marriage we lived a life of tranquillity and happiness in a chateau which I had inherited, removed from the turmoil of the world and political strife. We had one only child, a fair-haired, blue-eyed little damsel, with bright rosy cheeks and a happy, joyous smile on her countenance. At length, however, fearful troubles broke upon us on the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, just ten years ago. It was a time fatal to Protestants who ventured to remain in the country. Many of the best and noblest in the land fled from persecution. Some effected their escape, but many were overtaken, and were executed, or are still groaning in prisons, or, like my dear husband, in the galleys. My dear sister and her husband had come to reside with us, hoping that in our secluded abode they would escape observation. Her health was delicate, and on that fatal night when the dragoons burst into our house and carried off my brother-in-law, so greatly was she affected that her spirits gave way, and in a few days afterwards she sank to rest from this troubled world. My brother-in-law was heart-broken at the loss of his wife. He little knew how soon he was to follow her! My husband was absent from the house, when one evening I received notice that some officers of justice, as they were called, were approaching, in search of Protestants. I had just time to snatch up my little Elise, and to hurry off to the woods, where, in a hut which had been prepared by a faithful attendant, and known only to him, we were able to conceal ourselves. My dear husband, not aware of the personages who had possession of our house, returned late in the evening, having missed those who were on the watch to give him notice of what had occurred. He was instantly seized, and carried off for trial before the Government officials, who had been sent to the neighbourhood for that purpose. He, like a faithful servant of our blessed Master, refused to deny Him, or to acknowledge the truth of any of the dogmas of Rome. He was accordingly condemned to the galleys, a fearful fate! He was immediately marched off with many others, condemned for the same crime, to one of the naval ports; but from that day to this I have had no tidings of him, and if he has survived the hardships he has had to undergo, he is still labouring at the oar in one of those dreadful ships, enduring the worst kind of slavery, for life alone will terminate it. My poor brother-in-law was also captured, and refusing to recant, he was treated, being a Frenchman, even more severely than my husband, for he was first tortured; still holding out, the barbarians placed him on the cruel wheel, where, while still alive, his bones were broken, and he, as did many other faithful Protestants, expired, though in fearful torments, still crying to their Lord and Master, and acknowledging His love and the efficacy of the perfect sacrifice He offered for them. Our faithful Pierre, the steward of our estate, having collected all the jewels and other property which he could find, brought them to me and urged me on no account to return to the chateau, being sure that both Elise and I should be sacrificed to the fury of our enemies. Having friends in England, I resolved forthwith to escape to this country. I will not trouble you with my various adventures as I endeavoured to make my way with little Elise in my arms to the sea-coast. The poor people in the villages through which I passed, compassionating me and my little girl, gave us all the assistance in their power. Often some honest farmer, though at considerable risk to himself, would drive me some distance, concealed in his waggon, in the direction I wished to go. Thus I at length reached the neighbourhood of the north coast, where I hoped to find a vessel which would convey me to the shores of England. I had already gained the beach, when in consequence of the waves breaking on the shore, there was great difficulty in embarking. Fearing that Elise might receive some harm should I attempt to hold her while getting into the boat, I committed her to the charge of a seaman, an officer he seemed of some sort, who told me he was going off with us. A considerable number of other people were about to embark in the same vessel, and were crowding down to the edge of the water, when there was a cry that the dragoons were advancing towards us. I in vain attempted to reach the boat. Other people were crowding in, and the seamen, afraid that some accident would happen from her being overloaded, shoved her off into deep water. In vain I entreated that Elise might be restored to me, or that I might be taken on board.

"'The dragoons! the dragoons!' shouted the people all around me.

"'Come, madame, this is no place for you!' I heard a person say close to me. He seized my arm, and almost dragged me along the beach. 'I know of a place near here where you can be concealed,' he said. 'I will conduct you to it; there is no time to lose.'

"Again I entreated him to look for Elise.

"'That will be useless,' he answered: 'she is in God's hands, and He will preserve her! You can do nothing now.'

"He forced me on; and I could not indeed help feeling the justice of his remarks.

"Assisted on by him we reached some rocks, amid which he worked his way, even though it was dark, showing that he was well acquainted with the spot. After going on for some time longer, I found that we were in front of a small cave.

"'Go in there,' he said, in a low voice. 'It is large enough to contain many people; and I have stored it with food for such an emergency as this.'

"The stranger then told me that he was the Protestant pastor of the neighbouring district, and that, though compelled to quit his church, he still ministered in secret among his former flock, who supplied him with food, and warned him of the approach of danger. He had devoted himself to assisting those Protestants who, less fortunate than himself, came to that part of the coast.

"'I am aware,' he said, 'that at any moment I may be discovered; and yet I feel that I am called to this work. God in His mercy has thought fit to preserve me from the hands of my persecutors!'

"Supplied with food and other necessaries by this brave and good man, I remained for several days in the cave. He had a sad account to give me of the fate of most of the fugitives who had been unable to get on board the vessel. Some were cruelly sabred by the dragoons, even though crying for quarter. Others—men, women (young and old), and children— were lifted up on their horses, and carried off at full speed to the neighbouring town, where they were thrown into the dungeons already crowded with prisoners.

"At length the good pastor considered it safe to conduct me to a lonely farm-house, where he told me I must remain till he could arrange for my passage to England. I longed to go, in the hopes of recovering my dear little Elise. Nearly a month passed before he was able to make the desired arrangements. I wished to pay the good people with whom I had lived, but they would receive no remuneration, and insisted on carrying me in a cart to the beach, where the boat was ready to receive me. A gale came on soon after we were at sea, and we were driven up the Channel till we were off the town of Yarmouth, where at length I landed. Some co-religionists of the good Mr Gournay, living in that town, hearing of my arrival, received me in their house; and from thence I came on to Norwich, where I have ever since resided. In vain I have made inquiries for my dear little Elise, greatly helped by my kind friends in this house, but no news have I received of her. You, I am told, Monsieur Deane, are likely to be constantly moving about the country, and it is possible that you may thus hear of the little girl, should she have escaped."

"But she must have greatly grown since the time you speak of," observed Deane: "it was fully ten years ago, was it not?"

"Ah, yes—yes!" answered Madame de Mertens; "but she cannot be so changed that I should not know her; and you may hear, among the Huguenot families, of a little orphan girl, though, I fear, alas! that there are many, many such. I will show her picture to you as I conceive her to be, and that perhaps may help you. I have drawn it often and often; for my great delight is to think of the little girl, and of my dear husband also. You would not know him though, I fear, if he survives, so greatly changed must he be by the hardships and barbarities he has gone through. Compared to his, my own fate has been fortunate, thanks to the generosity of my kind friends in this house, and to others. I have also been able to support myself by teaching, and have even had it in my power to help others of my countrymen who required assistance; but still the picture of my dear husband, in that dreadful slave-ship, is constantly coming before me; and often and often I think of my beloved child, thrown among strangers, who may too probably be of an inferior class, unable to give her instruction, or perhaps Papists, who will bring her up in a faith so contrary to that for which her father died, and those who love her suffered!"

Jack, much interested in what he heard, promised faithfully to lose no opportunity of making inquiries for the little Elise, who, however, by that time must have been fifteen years of age—a fact which her mother, when first describing her, seemed to have overlooked.

When Jack afterwards told Brinsmead of the commission he had undertaken, the old man smiled somewhat grimly, as was his wont when he smiled at all, saying, "I am afraid it will be something like looking for a needle in a stack of hay, but at the same time the needle may be found, so I do not tell you not to do your best to execute the poor lady's wishes."

Madame de Mertens had just brought her history to a conclusion when Mr Gournay, accompanied by Giles Dainsforth, entered the room.

"Friend Deane, I am truly glad to see thee," he said, taking Deane by the hand. "I have heard of thee from friend Dainsforth here, and of thy family, and I trust that anon we shall become better acquainted. Thou hast an honest face, and if thou art diligent in business, thou art sure to gain the competency which is all that a man need desire in this life, and albeit its wealth flows in on some, by God's providence; remember, shouldst thou ever possess it, that wealth may prove a snare and temptation to thee, even as great as want and poverty is to some men. Thou wilt have need of prayer for guidance, even as much as thou hast at present, for the devil is ever going about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may devour; and the rich man may prove as dainty a morsel to him as the poor one—but above all does he delight in feeding upon those who have a name to lose, those who are ensigns and leaders in their church, elders and deacons, and such like. However, thou hast been journeying all day, and I will not speak to thee more of this subject at present, so come with us that thou mayst recruit thine inner man."

Saying this, the hospitable and generous Quaker led the way to his handsome parlour. Though his own dress was simple—for he had abjured ruffles and periwig, and wore neither sword, nor lace on his cloak, nor clocks to his stockings—yet it was of the best material, and in no way different in form from that of other wealthy merchants and commoners, while the apartment into which he ushered his guest was richly furnished, and the table was covered with a handsome service of plate and china.

Giles Dainsforth, who, though not a Quaker, was dressed with Puritan simplicity, was a tall, strongly-built young man, with intelligent, though not refined features. He welcomed Jack warmly, as the brother of one to whom he was engaged. Mr Gournay treated him with a respect and consideration which showed that he had confidence in his integrity. Jack thus at once made himself at home, and he could not help contrasting his present position to the life he had been leading for so many days.

His host, John Gournay, who was born in 1655, was the founder of the family, who have since become known for their wealth and liberality. At an early day he had joined the Society of Friends, or Quakers, as they were called, and established himself as a merchant at Norwich, where he became the owner of several manufactories. It was greatly in consequence of the encouragement and support which he gave to the French Protestant refugees that he was enabled to lay the foundation of the vast wealth of the family in trade, which their industry supplied. His generosity, liberality, and industry being thus speedily rewarded by the hand of Providence. His silk and wool mills were the best then in England for the usual Norwich manufactures, as also for other delicate productions, such as crape shawls and dress-fabrics. Although somewhat grave and formal in his discourse to strangers, at his genial board his formality soon disappeared, and Jack Deane, as has been said, passed a pleasanter evening than he had enjoyed for some time. Although profane music was not indulged in, Mistress Gournay and Madame de Mertens sang some very sweet and touching hymns, which went more to Jack's heart than any music he had ever heard.

Giles Dainsforth insisted on accompanying Jack back to his inn, to which he wished to return, though hospitably pressed to remain by Mr Gournay. Dainsforth of course had many inquiries to make about Jack's family, and especially about Kate. He confided to Jack his intention of seeking his fortune in the new colony in America, established by Master William Penn, the son of the celebrated Admiral.

"As to worldly wealth, dear Jack," he said, "I might gain that in England, but of freedom of conscience and freedom of worship, we may at any time be deprived, I fear. Our present king—may Heaven preserve him!—is liberal, but there are many malignants yet in the country who are striving for place and power, and we know not what another reign may bring forth. Other Acts of Conformity may be passed; and I cannot forget the cruel way in which our divines were treated in the last reign, when they were cast out on the cold world to gain their livelihood, as best they could, by those who sought to obtain only the loaves and fishes which their livings afforded."

"But will my father agree to let sister Kate cross the ocean, and leave him for ever?" asked Jack.

"Thy father is a man of sense," answered Dainsforth. "In most things he agrees with me; albeit he is more inclined to associate with malignants than I approve of, yet he, too, sees how the wind blows, and if he thinks it is for the happiness of thy sister Kate, he will not prevent her following the bent of her inclinations. Often has she said to me, 'Where thou goest I will go,' and therefore, without undue presumption, I may hope that she will consent to accompany me across the wide ocean to the land of promise. It is a beautiful and rich country, Jack; I would that thou wouldst make up thy mind to come with us! We might there, in a new England, enjoy that peace and prosperity and liberty of conscience, and freedom to worship God as we list, which may be denied us in this old country."

The idea was quite a new one to Jack. It had never occurred to him to seek his fortune abroad, simply, probably, because he had not been thrown in the way of persons who spoke on the subject. He promised Dainsforth, however, to consider the matter.

"I will talk to thee anon more about it, Jack," said Dainsforth, as they parted. "For a young man enjoying the health and strength that thou doest, I cannot picture a finer calling than that of subduing the wilderness, of turning a desert into a garden, and producing fruitful corn-fields out of wild land. The vine and the olive, and the orange flourish, they say, out there; and that corn which they call maize, with its golden head, so rich and prolific; and there are deer in the woods, and quail innumerable, and fish in the rivers and in the sea which washes its coasts. Indeed all the wants of man can there be amply supplied."

Dainsforth having given a description of the New World to Jack sufficient to keep him awake all the night with thinking of it, took his departure at length from the inn, promising to call for him on the morrow, and to assist him in transacting the business he had undertaken for Mr Strelley and other friends in Nottingham. Dainsforth expressed his hope of meeting him ere long at Nottingham, to which place he expected to be sent in the course of the autumn on some business for Mr Gournay. Jack was sorry when his visit to Norwich came to an end.



CHAPTER TWELVE.

JACK MEETS PEARSON AT SAINT FAITH'S AND ACCOMPANIES HIM TO THE NORTH.

John Deane's stay at Saint Faith's was to be very short, and then he and Brinsmead were to take their way back to Nottingham.

Will Brinsmead seemed somewhat out of temper as Jack rode alongside him on their journey to the former place. He seemed unreasonably jealous of the attention which Jack had received from Mr Gournay. He had also, it appeared, not got over some suspicion of Jack, in consequence of his apparent intimacy with the stranger who called himself Master Pearson.

"He may be Master Pearson, or he may not be Master Pearson," observed Will, sententiously: "and he may be an honest man, or he may not be an honest man. There are many rogues going about the world, and he may be one, or he may not be one; but I do not like a man who turns up here and turns up there, and dodges one's footsteps, and does not give a reasonable and proper account of himself. Now, it appears to me, Master Deane, that you have talked to this Master Pearson, supposing he is Master Pearson, a great deal too much. If you had held your tongue, he would have gained no information out of you. When you are among strangers, it's my opinion, that, if you are wise, you will say nothing. If you hold your tongue, those you are with will think you wise; but if you talk, ten chances to one they will think you a fool!"

"Thank you, Master Brinsmead, for the compliment," said Jack. "I told you before that I did not think I had said any thing to this man Pearson in any way detrimental to our interests, or to those of our employer, Mr Strelley. If I did, I am heartily sorry for it: but even if I did, it must be proved that he is a rogue before you should say that any harm could have happened from what I talked about."

Brinsmead, however, was not to be brought back into good-humour; and Jack was very glad when the tall, square tower of Saint Faith's church rose up in sight above the dead flat of marshy country over which they were travelling, which, however, was relieved by occasional groups of tall beech and birch-trees, and lines of weeping ash, amid which in spring and summer were happy birds singing all day, and some too even during the night.

Saint Faith's, although but a small village, was just now crowded with visitors, albeit rather of a rough description, being chiefly highland drovers in plaid and kilt, or trowes, with daggers stuck in their belts, carrying, however, long goads or staves in the place of broadsword and targets. There were purchasers also of the cattle they came to dispose of from all parts of the country, mostly as rough in their way as the Scotchmen they came to meet. The accommodation which the inn afforded was suitable to such characters as the visitors who frequented it. Fortunately for Jack, their stay was to be short, as Brinsmead had merely to make arrangements with certain drovers he expected to meet to purchase cattle, which, instead of coming so far south, were to be driven to Nottingham. Jack heard Brinsmead making inquiries about the person he expected to meet, and seemed rather disappointed at not finding him at the hostelry where he had arranged to come. On a second visit, however, to the Black Bull, the landlord informed Brinsmead that a Highlander had been inquiring for him, and was even now in the public room awaiting his coming.

"There he is, Master Brinsmead!" said the landlord, pointing to a strongly-built man in Highland dress, who was seated at a table, with a huge tankard of ale before him. By his side, in rather incongruous company, it appeared to Jack, was the reverend minister he had met at Cambridge. The Scotchman rose as Brinsmead, conducted by the landlord, approached him.

"If you are Master Brinsmead, as I have ne'er doobt is the case," he said, "I have to tell you of a sad accident which occurred to our respected friend, Jock McKillock, whom you expected to meet here: and, seeing that he could not come himself, he deputed me to transact the proposed business with you."

On saying this the speaker presented a letter to Brinsmead, which the latter handed to Jack to read, observing, "You're a better scholar than I am, Mr Deane, and I'll beg you just to see what friend McKillock has to say."

Jack took the epistle, which was somewhat dirty, the superscription being in a large though not over-legible hand. He saw, however, that it was addressed to Master Brinsmead, drover, at Saint Faith's. On opening it, Jack saw that it purported to be signed by Jock McKillock, introducing his trusted friend Mr Allan Sanderson, who would make all the arrangements for the sale of the cattle they had spoken of at their meeting on the previous year. The price had risen somewhat, he observed, in consequence of the demand for salt-beef for the fleet, and the licence-fees, which, against all right and justice, they were compelled to pay to King William, who, worthy as he had been in other respects, had committed the same grievous sin of which the King of Israel had been guilty when he neglected to hue Agag in pieces, in not taking away the life of the Popish monarch when he was delivered into his hands, as also in favouring the prelatic priests of the Church of England.

These remarks had a considerable effect with Brinsmead, who agreed with the principles of his correspondent, though he did not object to his master paying the licence-fees, considering they did not come out of his own pocket.

Jack on delivering the letter to Brinsmead, examined more narrowly the countenance of the person who had brought it, and felt immediately convinced that it was no other than Master Pearson. He could not help giving a glance which showed that he recognised him; but the other returned his look with so calm and unmoved an expression of countenance, that he was almost staggered for a moment in his belief. Still, when he recollected that Pearson might have some cause why he should not wish to let Brinsmead know of their previous intercourse, he determined—wisely or not, it may be a matter of opinion—not to address him as an acquaintance. The minister in the same way stared at him as if they had never met before. Jack was exceedingly puzzled, not being able to understand for what reason he did not wish to be recognised. He had time, however, to think over the matter while Brinsmead and the Highland drover were making their arrangements, in accordance with the suggestions contained in the letter. The minister also pulled a volume out of his pocket, and appeared to be completely absorbed in it.

"But who is this young man with you, Master Brinsmead?" asked Sanderson, turning an inquisitive eye, as it seemed, towards Jack. "Though you are unable to travel so far north to inspect the beasts, if he understands cattle, and is intelligent and trustworthy, would it not be well to let him come in your place? My respected friend, Jock McKillock, would rather you looked at the cattle before they are driven south."

"The lad is trustworthy enough," answered Brinsmead, in a low voice, so that Jack should not be supposed to hear it. "He understands, too, the points of a beast better than most lads of his age. Though his shoulders are young, he has got an old head on the top of them; but it's a long way to send him all alone, and he has yet to learn something more of the world than he knows at present. An old bird like me is not to be caught by chaff. He must be a sharp blade to deceive me, you may suppose, Master Sanderson, whereas he might easily be led in the toils of the many sharpers and impostors going about in all directions. It would be wiser not to trust him alone."

"Do not fear that, Master Brinsmead," answered Sanderson, "I am returning north, and will look after the lad, and guard him from all dangers such as you hint at. I cannot side with him when he is making his bargain, and help to beat down Jock McKillock, but I will give him all the advice in the general way I can, and Jock's an honest chield, and would not take advantage of him when he puts his trust in his honour."

Jack all this time could not help overhearing the conversation, and became more puzzled than ever how to act. A journey to the north for the purpose of purchasing cattle was exactly after his own taste, but he could not understand the deception which was being practised upon his companion. If Pearson was honest, why did he now assume a different name from that by which he had before been known? Which, also, was his right name? The minister too, who was his companion, had heard him called Pearson, and he now announced himself as Allan Sanderson in his presence, and yet the reverend gentleman made no remark on the subject.

Sanderson continued to urge his point with Brinsmead, and used many arguments to induce him to allow Jack Deane to proceed north. At last, not a little to Jack's satisfaction, Brinsmead yielded his consent, provided Jack would wish to accept the offer.

"What say you, Mr Deane, will you take a trip into the land o' cakes, and make a purchase of three hundred head of cattle for Mr Strelley? You will have the driving of the beasts south, and have the pleasure of seeing good honest meat and fat put on their bones in our rich water-meadows before many months have passed away after their arrival."

Jack had had time to consider the matter, and without hesitation accepted the offer, believing that in a short conversation with Pearson he could soon clear up the mystery.

"I should be on my guard," he thought to himself, "more than would Brinsmead, who does not suspect him, and thus I think I shall better be able to look after the interests of my master Mr Strelley."

When a person desires to do a thing, it is very easy to find excuses, and as easy to lull the conscience asleep, and hide the consequences which may be the result.

It was finally arranged that Jack should start the next morning in company with the respectable Mr Allan Sanderson, Brinsmead purposing to follow at a slower pace in the course of the day.

Jack was aroused next morning by the sound of his quondam acquaintance calling him to "boot and saddle," and to be off. Slipping on his clothes, he went to the bedside of Will Brinsmead, who was still sleeping soundly, to tell him that he was summoned to be off.

"Ah, lad, the Scotchmen keep early hours," said Will, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "The dawn has scarcely broke, surely. He is right, though, thou hast a long ride before thee, and it's as well to be off by times, though it would have been prudent to lay in a store of provender before you depart; however, two or three hours' ride before breakfast will do thee no harm, lad. And now, Master Deane, I have a word to say before you leave me. Thou hast a fair opening, lad, and an important commission to execute. Take this advice from an old man. Keep your own counsel on all occasions. Judge which is best for your master's interests, and let nothing turn you aside from following that out. Avoid quarrelling with any one, and let no one pick a quarrel with thee. Mr Sanderson seems a fair-spoken man, but there's one thing I would have you remember, that he is not Jock McKillock himself. Jock I have known well-nigh a score of years, and an honest and fair dealer, as I doubt not thou wilt find, if he is afoot and well again when you get to the north. And now, fare-thee-well, John Deane, an old man's blessing go with thee! Thou hast shown thyself to be ready-witted and brave, and if thou rememberest always that it is better to please God than man, thou wilt not fail to succeed in thy undertakings."

With these words the old man put on his clothes, and accompanying Jack down-stairs, assisted him in getting his horse ready for his journey.

"Weel, weel, laddy, you're o'er long in mounting your nag!" shouted Master Sanderson.

"I am ready for you now, at all events," answered Jack, as he threw himself into his saddle, and once more shook hands with Brinsmead.

"Stop, stop, Mr Sanderson, you be off without your stirrup-cup!" exclaimed the landlord, who at that moment appeared at the door with a tankard in his hand. "Such doings are never allowed at my house, however early in the morning my guests depart. It will do thee good, man, and help to keep the cold mists of our fen-country out of thy throat this morning; and thou, lad, must not break through our rules, either," he said, turning to Jack, who, it must be confessed, took the proffered tankard and drained its contents, then touching the flank of his horse with his spur, and giving a farewell wave of the hand to honest old Brinsmead, rode after his new acquaintance nothing loath.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

JACK AND PEARSON'S JOURNEY TO THE NORTH, AND HOW JACK WAS EMPLOYED ON THE ROAD.

The sky was clear overhead, and a damp mist was swept by a south-east wind over the face of the country. Jack and the Scotchman rode on till they were clear of the village without speaking.

"I am glad to have you in my company, Master Deane," said the latter, now for the first time throwing off all disguise.

"I am obliged to you," said Jack. "I knew you, Master Pearson, the moment I saw you."

"So I thought," was the answer. "When we parted at Cambridge, I was not certain in which character I should come to Saint Faith's. However, you might have found it difficult to come north without me, and I therefore have made arrangements to accompany you."

"But why this masquerading, Master Pearson?" asked Jack. "Mr Harwood's recommendation makes me place confidence in you, but I tell you frankly, I would rather know more about you than I do!"

"Very sensibly spoken," said Pearson, laughing. "The state of the times makes 'masquerading,' as you call it, necessary; but of one thing you may be sure, that I mean you fair; I will treat you honourably. Had I not given you warning, you would have returned to Nottingham, and have been clapped probably into the stocks; for depend upon it some of the country gentlemen round would have been too glad to get hold of your father's son, and by punishing him, keep in awe others of less degree."

"I am sure you mean me well," said Jack, whose disposition made him unsuspicious of others. "But we shall pass within a short distance of Nottingham, and I should like to go and pay them a visit during the evening, when the darkness will prevent me being recognised, just to tell them where I am going, and what I propose doing."

"Oh, Master Brinsmead will do that in a few days!" answered the northern drover; "depend upon it there are some on the watch for you, and you would run a considerable risk in returning home, even for a short time."

Jack thought this very likely, and did not press the point, but suddenly another idea occurred to him.

"I might surely visit Harwood Grange?" he observed; "no one would be looking for me there, and I should like to see Mr Harwood and gain some information respecting the persons to whom I am to deliver these letters."

"I will think about that, my lad, as we ride on," answered Pearson. "Our direct road will take us a good deal to the east of Sherwood Forest, and your visit to the Grange would cause considerable delay. I do not at present see that this is necessary, though, to be sure, you may have some attraction there with which I am not acquainted."

He gave a peculiar glance as he spoke, which drew the colour into his companion's cheeks.

Jack was mounted on a strong, active nag, but he soon found that it was very inferior in speed to the one Pearson bestrode, and frequently he had to use whip and spur to keep up with him.

"We must get you another beast," observed the latter; "it will make the difference of two or three days to us in our journey, and I always like to know that my friend is mounted on as good a steed as I am when we ride together. We know not the moment when we may have to try the metal of them both."

"If that's the animal you were riding when I met you between Nottingham and Cambridge, it's a good one," observed Jack, remembering the leap he had seen Pearson take, and the speed with which he had afterwards gone over the ground.

"Ay, the very same," answered Pearson; "Black Bess and I seldom part company. I would have no other person bestride her; and I doubt whether she would allow it, if any one were to make the attempt."

"But this horse belongs to Mr Strelley," said Jack; "I have no business to change it for another."

"Oh, I will settle that matter," answered Pearson; "you will accept the loan of one from me, and I will send your nag to meet old Will as he comes west. In a couple of hours we will stop to breakfast at the house of an old friend of mine, and I have no doubt that we shall find a steed in his stables just suited for you."

At the time Master Pearson specified, they drew up before a farm-house a little off the high-road. A sign, however, swinging over the door showed that occasional entertainment was afforded there also to man and beast. The landlord, who had very few of the characteristics of a Boniface, being a tall, thin, hard-featured man, received Pearson as an old acquaintance, and, the horses being sent to the stables, ushered them into a small oak parlour, intended for the accommodation of his private guests.

"We may here rest without the risk of being observed," said Pearson to Deane, as he threw himself into a chair. "A wise man will not make more confidants than are necessary, and will not let the rest of the world know what he is about or where he is going. We will have some refreshment, and then I will go and search for a better steed than yours, which shall be returned in due course to your employer."