so many worlds, so much to do,

so little done, such things to be,

how know i what had need of thee,

for thou wert strong as thou wert true?

—tennyson.

it was later in the afternoon and master legros and his daughter had finished their preparations for the return journey. strangely enough, papa's heart was not as glad as it should have been, considering that the object of his visit to england had been attained, and that he had reached the pinnacle of his desire much more easily than he had ever dared to contemplate, for he had reached it without the cost of humiliation to his child or rebuff to himself.

nevertheless, the kindly heart was like a dead weight in the good man's breast, even though rose marie did her best to seem cheerful, talking ever of the joy of seeing maman again, and at times quite serenely of her own future.

"thy husband looks kind, rose marie," said papa tentatively, whilst his eyes, rendered keen through the intensity of his affection, strove to pierce through the mask of impassiveness wherewith his child tried to hide her thoughts.

"he also seems greatly to admire thee," he added with an involuntary display of paternal pride.

but has any man—has even the most devoted of fathers—ever succeeded in reading a woman's thoughts on the subject of another man.

[368]

all that papa legros thought at this moment was that rose marie looked very pale and that a shiver seemed to go through her as if she had the ague. mayhap she was over-tired, certainly she was unstrung. he himself felt uncommonly as if he would like to cry.

in the early part of the afternoon he persuaded rose marie to lie awhile on her bed and rest. "milor"—for so he still persisted in calling rupert kestyon in his mind—would be here at six o'clock; his coach would then be ready for the journey to dover. it was now little more than three.

rose marie obeyed willingly. she was very tired and she longed to be all alone. papa declared his intention of going out for a walk and of returning within an hour.

a great longing had seized him to see michael once again. the worthy man cursed himself for his folly and for his weakness but he felt that he could not go away from england without grasping once more that slender, kindly hand, which he once used to look on as that of a dearly-loved son.

papa legros did not see the reason why—now that all difficulties had been duly planed—he and michael should not remain friends. he had more than a vague suspicion, too, that "milor's" repentant attitude was due to michael's persuasion.

asking his way from the passers-by as he went, he soon found himself once again before the house in soho. but his disappointment was bitter when he heard that my lord was from home, and no one knew when he would return.

sadder of heart then, master legros retraced his steps towards the bell inn. on the way he had wiped many a tear which had fallen down his cheeks, blaming himself[369] severely the while for this display of weakness. but—strange though it may seem—this failure in seeing michael and in hearing his cheery voice speak the "god-speed" had weighed the good tailor's spirits down with an oppressive weight which seemed almost like a foreboding.

in the yard of the inn, master legros encountered quite a crowd of gaffers. some great excitement seemed to be in the air; they talked volubly to one another, with that stolid absence of gesture, that burying of hands in breeches pockets which always makes an englishman's excitement seem so unconvincing to the foreign observer. in the centre of the yard, a heavy coach—a note of bright canary yellow in the midst of all the sober greys and drabs around—stood ready, with ostlers at the leaders' heads, the horses champing their bits and impatiently pawing the cobblestones. the driver, with thick coat unbuttoned displaying an expanse of grey woolen shirt, was quenching his thirst inside the vehicle; obviously it was not his intention to join actively in the babel of voices which went on all round him, although the coach itself and the horses seemed special objects of curiosity, since a crowd of gaffers surrounded it as closely as the impatient horses themselves would allow.

master legros made his way through the crowd, trying to catch a chance phrase or so, which might give him the keynote to all this unwonted bustle. the words "papist" and "arrest," which he understood, caught his ear repeatedly, also the name "stowmaries," invariably accompanied with a loud imprecation.

feeling naturally diffident through his want of knowledge of the language, he was somewhat timorous of asking questions, but hurried up to his room, having bidden the[370] barman downstairs take a bottle of wine and two glasses up to his room.

he found rose marie sitting quietly in the armchair, pensive but otherwise serene. to the father's anxious eyes it seemed as if she had been crying, but she returned his kiss of greeting with clinging fondness, and assured him that she felt quite rested and ready for the journey.

"my lord" had arranged that his coach should take them by night journey to dover, and thence immediately to calais if the packet-boat was plying; for "my lord" seemed in a vast hurry to get across to france as soon as may be, and rose marie herself was conscious of a great longing to put the sea between herself and this land which called forth so many bitter memories.

when the serving-man brought the wine, legros asked his daughter to question him as to the excitement which reigned in the yard.

"oh!" explained the man, who was eager enough to talk, "'tis only the news of the arrest of another of these d—d papists. they do conspire, you know, to murder the king, and it seems that this time they've arrested another noble lord, no less a person than my lord of stowmaries."

"my lord of stowmaries!" ejaculated legros in utter dismay, for he had partly guessed, partly understood, what the man was saying; "surely it cannot be—"

"when and where did this occur?" queried rose marie peremptorily.

"about an hour ago, at his lordship's house in piccadilly," replied the man. "they do say that the miscreant hath confessed, directly he saw the musketeers. he was scared, no doubt, and blurted out the truth. by the lord! if the people of england had their way, a man like that should be broken on the wheel and the fires of smithfield[371] should be revived to rid the country of such pestilential vermin."

fortunately master legros did not understand all that the man said, else his wrath had known no bounds. as it was he had only a vague idea that the man was being insolent, and he shouted an angry command of:

"enough of this! get out, sirrah!" which the man readily obeyed, being over-satisfied that he had annoyed and even frightened these foreign papists, who, no doubt, had come to england only to brew mischief.

directly the door had closed behind the serving-man, rose marie said decisively:

"father dear, we must to my husband's house at once, and find out what has happened."

"he seemed to make so light of the danger which threatened him, when he was here just now, that i had begun to think that blackguard daniel pye was naught but a clumsy blackmailer. and yet, milor—i—i mean our milor—he thought the matter grave, and went forth very hurriedly to warn his kinsman."

"father dear, i would give anything to have further news," said rose marie, who was trembling with agitation. "do, i pray you, let us go forth and try and find out something more."

but even as with feverish movements, she began putting on a cloak and hood, the door opened and rupert kestyon entered. rose marie stared at him as if she had seen a ghost, and master legros murmured in complete bewilderment:

"you—you, my lord—then, thank god!—it is not true."

"what is not true?" queried the young man, who also seemed labouring under grave agitation, for his cheeks were[372] almost grey in colour, and his lips twitched painfully as he tried to control the tremor of his voice.

"that you have been arrested, my lord!" said legros. "they told us that you had been arrested for treason and—"

"they told you lies, no doubt," broke in rupert roughly, "as you see i am safe and sound. the horses are put to," he added with obvious want of control over his own impatience. "i pray you, madam, to descend as soon as you are ready, and you, too, good master, and to enter the coach without parleying with the crowd. you need have no fear; they will not molest you."

"we are ready, milor—i mean sir," said papa legros, who was taken with an exceptionally severe attack of his usual fussiness. "i pray you give your arm to my daughter—i will follow close on your heels."

"my lord," it seems, was so agitated that he even forgot his good manners, and curtly bidding the others not to linger, he darted out of the room, and had even disappeared down the corridor before rose marie had had time to collect her little bits of hand luggage.

she went back to the window which gave on the covered balcony that on this floor ran all round the house, overlooking the yard. the excitement down below was evidently reaching fever pitch; every one was rushing toward the gate and the yard itself was for the moment left deserted. only one ostler remained at the horses' heads, and his head, too, was turned in the direction of the gates. the driver had emerged from the depths of the vehicle and together with his mate was hoisting the legros' luggage into the boot. he, too, however, craned his neck from time to time, trying to see beyond the dense knot of human heads[373] which totally obstructed both the view and the passage out into fleet street.

rose marie, feeling still strangely perturbed, her heart beating with a nameless fear, which she could not herself understand, threw open the window and stepped out onto the balcony. rupert kestyon was standing just below, giving impatient directions to his men anent the disposition of the luggage. the sound of the opening window and of rose marie's footsteps above, caused him to look up and at sight of her he uttered a loud oath. it was evident that he had completely lost all control over himself.

"you have run it too late, d—n you!" he shouted roughly. "now we cannot get through fleet street till after that accursed mob hath dispersed."

rose marie with lips compressed and brows closely puckered withdrew out of his sight, blushing with shame at the thought that a group of serving-girls who stood also on the balcony not far from her, giggling and chattering, should have heard her husband's rough words.

but the wenches were evidently too much engrossed with their desire to see something of what was going on beyond the hostelry gates to pay much heed to the pale, foreign miss and to her doings, and even as rose marie prepared once more to join her father, she heard one girl say excitedly:

"he won't be passing by for another few minutes—we'll have time to run to the gates—"

"no! no! cannot you hear the shouts? they are bringing him along now," cried another, holding with both hands to the iron railing, the while her companion tried to drag her away.

"i can just see over the heads of the crowd," said an[374]other. "here they come! here they come! can you hear them all hooting?"

and she herself indulged in a vicious "boo! down with the traitor! down with the papists!"

beyond the gates, the crowd, invisible to rose marie, was evidently giving vent to its excitement. as the wench had said, they were hooting lustily. shouts of "death to the traitors!" mingled with obvious cries of terror and of pain following immediately on the clatter of horses' hoofs on the mud-covered street.

"it's a closed vehicle!" said one of the girls on the balcony in obvious disappointment.

"and you can't see even that with all that pack of soldiery."

"boo! boo! death to the papist!" screamed the other girls in unison.

just for a moment then in the small space between the top of the archway, and above the heads of the crowd, rose marie caught sight of a closed hackney coach, being driven at slow pace and surrounded by an escort of musketeers. the hooting, hissing, and other expressions of hatred and opprobrium became almost deafening for the moment, and through the shouts of "the rope, the rack, the stake for the papists!" could distinctly be heard the name, "stowmaries!" accompanied by loud imprecations, whilst a shower of evil-smelling refuse was hurled at the vehicle by the enthusiastic staff of the bell inn, congregated at its gates.

rose marie felt sick with horror. gradually that fear which had hitherto been nameless, gained more tangible shape. she peeped down again and saw that her husband had taken refuge inside his coach.

then she understood.

[375]

it was michael who had been arrested—the only lord of stowmaries, as he himself had proudly said awhile ago.

did some inkling of the real truth of the case rise in her heart then and there, it were difficult to say. there is a strange telepathy which exists in nature and which warns the sensitive mind of the danger, the misfortune of another being. it was only a purely natural, human instinct which prompted her to ask the serving-wenches a final question, the answer to which she knew already.

"what is all the excitement about?" she asked, turning to the group of girls and steadying her voice as much as she could. "who is it they are taking past in that closed carriage?"

"my lord of stowmaries, mistress," said one of the girls. "he is one of the papists that do conspire against the king. he'll hang for sure—i wish they'd burn the lot as they did in the olden days."

"but 'tis my lord stowmaries' coach that is standing here below," said rose marie; "he is safe and sound within."

"nay! i know naught about that," quoth the girl decisively; "'tis my lord stowmaries they are taking to prison sure enough, and 'twill be my lord of stowmaries' head that'll be on tyburn gate before many days are over, and i for one'll go to see him beheaded, if i can get a holiday on that day."