fine ladies wait for me in the lane, eh, rogue?" 66 66 Why, sir," says Tom, getting into his boots, why, sir, they would be very sore in need of a gallant." "Well, lad, well! There is no answering you. And zounds, I came to ask not answer. Will you bide with us at Send for a week?" "I thank you, sir. But I believe But I believe my father needs me." Sir Matthew looked at him and began to laugh. 66 Father, eh? Not two bright eyes at the Red Barn? Oh rogue!" and again he laughed. 66 My dear uncle, believe me, you are not witty," said Tom, picking up cloak and hat. "No? No? Good lack! Zounds, I'll swear you are off to her now." "You may swear, sir, as much as your conscience allows," said Tom and went out. On his departure Sir Matthew ceased suddenly to laugh and stood at the door listening to the footsteps. Then as they died, he moved across the room, tried a cabinet, found it open, dropped in a bundle of papers, closed it, and then with a jaunty air went out. From the door he watched his nephew riding towards the village, then mounted himself and made for the London road at speed. Where the trees grow thick about the cross roads beyond Cobham a man waited, leaning against the gibbet. "Smithers?" The man stepped out and touched his hat. "At the inn, after all-the inn or thereby. But presently search his room at the manor. Be sure of that above all." "I be minded to be sure of all, m'lud," said Smithers, jerking his big shoulders. 66 No violence!" Sir Matthew cried hastily. "No rashness! At your peril, do not harm him." "I, m'lud? I dandles my bully-boys, m'lud. Leave it all to Tony Smithers. Mr Smithers, who was broad and bandy, waddled off down the hill to Cobham. Sir Matthew watched him a while, then rode for Send and home. be just, his aspect may not be called gay. To Of grey chalk flint and rubble, with thatch drooping over the little casements, the Red Barn Inn spread itself long and low in face of the road to Byfleet Mill. Set back in the meadow the great barn, with red tiled roof and ruddled doors, and walls of mellow brick, made a splash of bright colour on the dank dark grass. Thither came Mr Dane in a hurry, and dismounting in the stable-yard was greeted with a grin from the ostler's boy and melodious strains from the barn, strains of an indifferent guitar and an admirable woman's voice. 66 It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green cornfield did pass, In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, Brava! Fine, I protest!" cried another woman's voice; and Mr Dane opening the door, 66 Fine, I agree!" He beheld a pastoral scene. A swain in purple velvet reclined on oat straw and strummed the shrill guitar: a lady in yellow silk beside him clapped thin jewel-laden hands: before them, where the light fell through the open door of the loft on the gravel, a girl was dancing. Her dress of russet brown clung close, and swaying to the music, she showed her maiden beauty quick with life and eager. The kind light played on her bare white neck, and gave to desiring eyes the shell-pink and rose-red of cheek and parted lips, the heavy black cloud of her hair. She put a curtsey into her dance, and Mr Dane bowed with a whirl of his plumed hat, extravagantly. 66 Oh, brave!" cried the lady in yellow. He was approaching the dancer, when "La, sir, 'tis not your cue!" said she. 66 Madame, be my call-boy," said Mr Dane, with a more exaggerated bow. "Oh, gallant!" the lady simpered, and swept her yellow skirt from the straw to make a place for him beside her. "Shall I profane the hallowed sheaves?" says "Nay, faith! he, with another bow. My Ceres, reign alone!" The yellow lady giggled, and again Rose sang: 66 This carol they began that hour, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, How that life was but a flower, In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, Brava! brava!" cried the lady shrilly. "I protest, Mr Bedford, she would carry the town." Mr Bedford laid aside his guitar, and rose. "A song rude and rustical," he declared. "Would we could hear something more polite! I yearn, I protest I yearn, for Mr Shadwell's graceful passion that Apolline verse: "Though darts and flames from her eye fly, sir, 999 He hummed those immortal words, then made a tragic gesture of despair. "But our rustic Rosa hath not heard Mr Shadwell's name, I apprehend?" "No, indeed, cousin. Mr Bedford repeated his gesture with a hollow laugh of scorn. "But you do not know Mr Dane." Mr Dane was straightway presented to Mr and Mistress Bedford, twin stars in the firmament of the King's Playhouse. "Madame, your most devoted--Sir, your humble obedient-" said Mr Dane, with dramatic reverences. "La, sir," the lady simpered. "I am proud, sir, proud," cried Mr Bedford. 66 66 Mr Dane "Sir, I am prouder," said Mr Dane, with a lower bow, and the lady made eyes at him. Sir, you are very politeput up a deprecating hand. Nay, I repeat. Of urban grace! We are vastly honouredVastly, faith," the lady lady sighed languished. 66 sighed and "Dear lady!" murmured Mr Dane. "We had not hoped for such an audience." Mr Dane started. "To pleasure our rustic Rosa here we had sworn ourselves to give somewhat of the majesty and melody of 66 I By your leave, nay, by your leave! must needs deny myself your majestic and melodic splendour. Mistress Charlbury desired to speak with me. And a lady, sir, a ladyyou take me?" Mr Bedford bowed stiffly and walked away, baulked of a victim, and wroth. "Mistress Charlbury will not speak to you ever if you are so rude, sir," said Rose to Mr Dane's ear. "Mistress Charlbury could never could never refrain." Mr Dane laughed at her earnest brown eyes. Whereat Rose made him a little curtsey, and cried: 66 "Pray come, cousin. Mr Dane begs!" At which Mr Bedford turned and returned with alacrity. Now, sir, dare to be rude again!" Rose whispered, and her eyes flashed royally. Mr Dane pinched her cheek. Mr Bedford lifted up his voice. "From Mr Dryden's most admired Conquest of Granada.' The false Lyndaraxa," he bowed to his wife," is judged by her Abdelmelech :" he bowed to his audience. "Now are we doomed," groaned Mr Dane, and took Rose by the arm. "Thou rogue, what of this mystery of a letter for me?" Rose laughed. "Zounds, I believe there never was a letter!" Rose laughed again. "Oh rogue! Flee from the wrath to come.' |