to rob the King's messenger? Those damnable disloyal Whigs, my Lord Sunderland and Sir Matthew Dane.'

"Who will dare assail our party?" Sunderland laughed, tapped his own breast, and pointed to Sir Matthew's. Sir Matthew sat down and stared at him, and still my Lord Sunderland laughed.

"Those that fear most being assailed. In this world who would not be hanged must hang. Apply that to yourself and your witty nephew."

66

My lord-you mean?" Sir Matthew gasped. My Lord Sunderland took snuff.

66

My dear Sir Matthew, it is my habit to

mean.

"Zounds! my lord, you are overwrought. You are too fearful. You talk wildly. The Whigs will stand firm. The Whigs are too strong to attack." Sunderland shrugged his shoulders.

"Your nephew-your nephew."

And I answer for him as for myself."

"And so do I. And therefore desire to see him safe

"Safe?"

"In heaven, my dear Sir Matthew."

"God forbid, my lord! My brother's child! My nephew!"

"The kinship gives no confidence, believe

me."

"It is monstrous, my lord.

honest. And what has he done?"

The boy is

"Nothing, as I hope. I am much concerned

that he should do nothing, and would be at pains to ensure it."

"In a word, my lord, I will be no party to aught against him. My lord took snuff.

"Your resolve," he remarked, "is moral. I am vastly edified. He is, however, as you said, the son of your brother. Your elder brother. The heir of your elder brother. I think I have heard that Bourne is a noble estate. Your resolve is the more moral. But, knowing your morality, I must still say that your nephew has your neck (which you, nobly, do not value) and mine (for which I have a deep regard) to sell. You tell me that he is like you. My good Sir Matthew, if you you were were he, would you sell them?" Sir Matthew looked down, looked up hastily at Sunderland's lean face, but avoided the pale eyes, and looked down again.

"You deem our lives in peril, my lord?" he muttered.

"Our twain lives are in the hand of a man like yourself. And worth a price."

"What would you do?" Sunderland shrugged his shoulders.

66

A plot.

The old, excellent way. A plot. A Whig plot. "Twill shortly be the fashion. Treason and

"Not death, my lord?"

"Lud, here be qualms!"

66

Sure, my lord, he need not die! Transported

"He would still be barred from inheritance. Dear sir, you have a comfortable conscience. Well, you may buy his life after sentence.'

My lord chuckled. "Sure, I will let you buy his life. "Twill be duly avuncular." Sir Matthew shot a hasty, fearful glance at him. The crowns for a pardon would pass to my Lord Sunderland's purse. Sir Matthew's spirit was rebuked by the magnificence of my lord's strategy. "He may tell what tales he likes in the Barbadoes," said my Lord Sunderland thoughtfully. "But how will you work, my lord? "We, Sir Matthew, always we. Arrest, trial, sentence. Sure, you know the way with the Papists."

"But what witnesses?"

"Oh, silly, I shall find two score. Is there ever lack of knaves?" Sir Matthew looked at my lord and shook his head. "We shall not

need you," said my lord tartly. "Now take him hastily back to Surrey before he blab here. I will send Bragdon to you. The Parliament is dissolved to-morrow.

"To-morrow!" gasped Sir Matthew.

66

Ay, the King has been wiser than we. The country is sated with Papist blood, and thirsts now for the Whig liquor. Sir Matthew, let us ever serve our country."

Sir Matthew went slowly out; his education had much advanced in a little space.

"There goes a pretty knave!" said my Lord Sunderland, and turned to indite a letter to James, Duke of York, wherein he humbly gave his Royal Highness joy of his victory over the traitorous attempt to filch from him the crown. That is a very skilful letter,

CHAPTER III

66 OUR LOVES HAVE MINGLED WITH TOO
""
MUCH OF FATE'

DWELLING two miles apart they must needs write letters to each other. This to show how deep they were in love. Nor would they deliver the letters, but left them within a hollow tree to be explored by the wood-flies and afterward kissed by the exultant lover. This because they loved in the heroical manner.

A westerly gale was whistling in the woods, and the pale December sun made the wet meadows a pavement of stars. She came swiftly through the clear rain-washed air, a dark figure of grace, lithe, light of foot, and laughed for joy of the morning and herself. So she came to the gnarled oak and took from her bosom a letter and set a kiss on it and hid it and ran away.

Thus the romantic maid. And soon came her hero, galloping home to dinner, and checked his fiery steed with due heroical violence and snatched her letter from its hiding.

"Dear child!" said her hero, with something of condescension and a smile, and broke the seal.

"MR DANE,-Indeed, Sir, you are a very great Person. And many mighty Matters have eat up all yr Time. And I think you have not given me a Thought for fore Days. And indeed, Mr Dane, I'd not call you to come to ye Red Barne Inn ever more (because of y' great Greatness, noble

Sir). But a Gentleman in ye vastest Hurrie hath brought me Papers y which I did promiss to give in mine own Hand to ye right worshippful Mr Dane. And indeed I will not come to you, being very well contented. My Cousins Bedfords, ye great Players, stay with us and do make good Entertanements. So I have no Leesure to think on ye great Mr Dane. And he must come if he would put me in mind of himself. Indeed I have forgot whether he be Dark or Fair. And I am to be a Player myself. For my Cousin Bedford wants me. So fare well, Mr Dane. From y humble servant,

"Do come."

"ROSE.

At the admirable conclusion the great Mr Dane laughed and galloped on to his dinner. Before his father, Squire Silas, a Puritan of the straitest sect, Mr Dane did not speak of the letter. Already his father disapproved of so much in him that it was supererogation to give further cause for blame. But as Mr Dane combed his ruddy locks after dinner entered his uncle, Sir Matthew, and approached the matter jovially:

"Always adorning yourself, Tom! Ah rogue, rogue!" Tom turned from the glass and looked his uncle up and down. Now Sir Matthew was of frugal mind, and his riding-coat in the country testified thereto.

"Gad, sir, let us have one in the family who looks a gentleman!" said Tom, with the gracious arrogance of youth. But his good uncle bore no malice.

"A hit, lad, a clean hit!" he chuckled and looked down at his weather-beaten garb without shame. "Odso, my gay days are past.

B

No