"I pray not," said Mead; "but I do pray that those principles which I have unfolded to thee, old friend, may be promulgated throughout the length and breadth of England; as it is through them, and them only, that the country can obtain true rest, and prosper as a Christian people would desire."

Two days after this, the prisoners were pacing their cell, talking earnestly on matters seldom discussed within prison walls, when the turnkey entered.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I bring you news such as may perhaps be satisfactory. Your fines have been paid, and you are at liberty to depart from hence. I trust you will not forget the attention and courtesy with which I have treated you!"

"Verily, knave!" exclaimed Mead, laughing as Quakers were not wont to laugh, "thou ought to go to Court and push thy fortune there. I would willingly pay thee for all the attention thou hast shown us, but I fear thou wouldst not be satisfied with the payment. If I give thee more than thy deserts, thou wilt be better pleased. Here, take this groat.

Art thou satisfied?"

The turnkey made a wry face, and Mead followed Penn, who had hurried out, anxious to be free from the prison. On the outside they met Christison and Wenlock, with several other friends, waiting for them.

Penn hastened to his lodgings to change his dress, requesting Mead to order horses directly, that he might proceed down to his father.

"Come," said Mead to his old comrade; "many days have pa.s.sed since I gave thee an invitation to my abode; but as I have not since then been a free agent, I could not have received thee as I desired."

CHAPTER FIVE.

Wenlock Christison and his son proceeded up Cornhill a short time after the events which have been described. They were examining the various signs over the shop doors, in search of that which distinguished Master Mead's abode.

"Ah! there it is," said Wenlock; "that must be the 'Spinning Wheel' he told us of."

A demure youth with well-brushed hair was standing at the door, in courteous language inviting pa.s.sers-by to enter and inspect his master's goods.

"Is this Master Mead's abode, young man?" inquired Captain Christison.

"Verily, friend, it is," answered the shopman. "If thou wilt enter, thou wilt find thy money's worth for any goods thou mayst purchase.

Master Mead bringeth good judgment to bear on his purchases, and buys only such goods as those in which he has confidence. Enter, friend; enter, I pray thee."

"Thank you," said Christison; "but I wish to see Master Mead himself."

"If thou wilt enter through this door, thou wilt find him in the upper story with his family," answered the shopman, leading the way; and Christison and Wenlock proceeded upstairs.

Master Mead cordially welcomed his old friend, introducing him to a comely matron whom he spoke of as his wife Martha. "And here is my daughter Mary," he added, pointing to a remarkably pretty and fair-haired girl, who smiled sweetly, and held out her hand to her father's guests. She might have been two or three years younger than Wenlock, though, being well grown, there seemed but little difference in their ages. While their elders were talking, the young people, after a few desultory remarks, found themselves drawn into conversation.

"I hear from my father that thou hast been a great traveller already,"

said Mary Mead.

"Yes, indeed," answered Wenlock. "I scarcely remember ever remaining more than two or three months in one place. When my mother died, my father left our home in New England, ever after seeking for some spot where he might settle, but finding none, till at length he determined to go back to the old country."

"You can have had but little time for obtaining instruction then?" said Mary, "I thought boys were always sent to school."

"I picked up what I could out of what my father calls the 'big book of life,'" answered Wenlock. "He also gave me such instructions as time and opportunity would allow, though there are many more things I should like to learn. I have, however, read not a few books; I can handle a singlestick as well as many older men, can ride, row, and shoot with arquebuse or crossbow, and I can write letters on various subjects, as I will prove to you, Mistress Mary, if you will allow me, when I again begin my wanderings; for I doubt whether my father will long remain in this big city. He is constantly complaining that the times are out of joint; and although we have been in England but a few weeks, he threatens again speedily to leave it."

"That were a pity," said Mary. "I prefer the green fields, and the woods, and the gay flowers, and the songs of birds, to the narrow streets, the dingy houses, and the cries of London; but yet I opine that happiness comes from within, and that, if the heart is at rest, contentment may be found under all circ.u.mstances."

"You are a philosopher," said Wenlock.

"No," answered Mary quietly, "I am a Quakeress, an you please: and our principles afford us that peace and contentment which they of the world know not of."

"I must get you to teach me to be a Quaker, then," said Wenlock. "I have been listening attentively to your father's discourses to mine, and even he, who was so much opposed to such ideas, has greatly been attracted by them; and, to tell you the truth, Mistress Mead, I have made up my mind that they are the best that I have heard of. There may be better, but I know not of them."

"Oh, no, no. There can be no better than such as are to be found in the Book of Life," said Mary. "You must judge of our principles by that, and that alone. If they are not according to that, they are wrong; but if they are according to that, there can be none better."

Wenlock, as he talked to the fair young Quakeress, felt himself every moment becoming more and more a convert to her opinions; and had not his father been present, he would then and there have undoubtedly confessed himself a Quaker.

The young people had found their way, somehow or other, to the bow window at the further end of the room, their elders, meantime, carrying on a conversation by themselves, not altogether of a different character. Mead, aided by his wife, was explaining to Christison, more fully than he had hitherto done, the Quaker doctrines. Could he, a man of the sword, however, acknowledge fighting to be wrong, and henceforth and for ever lay aside the weapons he had handled all his life?

"But surely, friend, if thou dost acknowledge that man is formed in G.o.d's image, it must be obvious to thee that to deface His image must be contrary to His law and will. The world is large, and G.o.d intends it to be peopled; whereas, by wars, the population ceases to increase, and that happy time when hymns of praise shall ascend from all quarters of the globe is postponed."

Mistress Mead occasionally made some telling remark to the same effect.

"Well, friend Mead, I have listened to all you have advanced," said Christison at length, "and I cannot, as an honest man, fail to acknowledge that you are in the main right. When next I come, I will hear what further arguments you have to adduce; but the truth is, when I determined to return to England, it was with the purpose of taking service in the English army, or in that of some foreign Protestant State, in which I hoped also to obtain employment for my son; whereas, if I turn Quaker, I must, I see, from what you tell me, give up all such ideas, and then how to obtain employment for him or myself I know not.

I have no wish to be idle, and as 'a rolling stone gains no moss,' I have laid by but little of this world's wealth for a rainy day, or for my old age."

"Verily, thou must indeed give up all ideas of fighting and blood-shedding," answered Mead. "Yet I see not that thou needst starve.

There is no lack of honest employments, if a man will but seek them.

'Thou canst not serve two masters.' Our G.o.d is a G.o.d of peace. The devil is the G.o.d of war; and devilish work is fighting, as I can answer from experience, and so canst thou, old comrade."

Christison sighed. "Well, well, friend," he said, "I feel you are right, and I will think over the matter. And now it is time that I should bid thee farewell. I have a visit to pay to a friend who lives some way on the other side of Temple Bar, and it will be late before we can get back to our lodgings."

Mead did not attempt to detain his friend. The young people started when Wenlock was summoned. They were sorry the visit had so soon come to an end.

"We shall see you again," said Mary, frankly putting out her hand, "and then I will speak to you more of these matters."

Wenlock of course promised that he would very soon come again.

Christison and his son took their way along Cheapside, past old Saint Paul's, and proceeded down Ludgate Hill.

"You seemed pleased with young Mistress Mead, Wenlock," said his father.

"Indeed I was," answered Wenlock. "Though so quiet in manner, she has plenty to say. I never felt more inclined to talk in my life. I have promised to pay another visit as soon as I can, and when we go away, to write to her and give her an account of our adventures."

"You seem to have made progress in her good graces, Wenlock," said his father; and as he was a man of the world, it might possibly have occurred to him that when his son should desire a helpmate, fair Mistress Mary might prove a very suitable person. That perfect confidence existed between father and son which induced Wenlock to speak his mind on all occasions and on all subjects. They at length reached their destination, and the old soldier found his friend Lawrence Hargrave at home. In their conversation, which was chiefly on matters political, Wenlock took but little interest, his thoughts indeed being just then occupied chiefly by Mary Mead. He was glad, therefore, when his father announced his intention of returning home. They walked on rapidly, for the night was cold. It was dark also, for the sky was overcast. As they were going along Fleet Street, they heard the sound of horses' hoofs approaching at a somewhat rapid rate. They drew on one side, when a faint cry of "Help! help!" reached their ears.

"Come on, Wenlock," shouted the captain, rushing on. Directly before them they saw the outlines of two horses and several persons apparently struggling on the ground. The sounds of "Help! help!" again reached their ears.

"Here is help to whoever is in the right," cried Christison, drawing his sword.

"I am in the right; the others wish to kill me," said the same voice.

"No, no; he is a prisoner escaping from justice," growled a man in a rough voice.

"It is false! Help! I am the Duke--"

At that moment, a blow was heard, and the speaker was felled to the ground.

"I take the weakest side," cried Christison, attacking the other men, who now, drawing their swords, attempted to defend themselves. The old officer, a dextrous swordsman, disarmed the first, sending his weapon flying to the other side of the street. The next he attacked, giving him a severe wound on the arm. Young Wenlock, who, according to the fashion of the times, also wore a sword, joined in the fray, and made so furious an onset on the third fellow, who was at that moment about to run his weapon into the body of the prostrate man, that he compelled him to draw back. Placing himself across the body, he kept the fellow at bay, till another wound which his father bestowed on his antagonist made him retreat; when, the sound of carriage-wheels being heard in the distance, the three fellows, leaping on their horses, took to flight, leaving Christison and Wenlock masters of the field; the fallen man, only slightly stunned, had been slowly recovering; and when Christison stooped down to help him up, he was able, without much difficulty, to rise to his feet.

"Thanks, my friends, whoever you are," he said. "I observed the brave way in which you attacked my dastardly a.s.sailants; and I observed also the gallant manner in which this young gentleman defended me, when one of them would have run me through the body. To him I feel, indeed, that I am indebted for my life."