"Nay, not yet mam," said the Sergeant gently as he rose; "you are weary, sit ye and rest awhile. Mrs. Agatha mam, you speak woman-like----"

"Aye, aye," nodded old Betty, "'tis ever woman is cruellest to woman!"

"As you will, Zebedee Tring!" nodded Mrs. Agatha. "Yonder is Roger Bent shook with a shivering fit at sight of her while you sit here and let her scrabble your hand, but as you will!" and crossing her arms over opulent bosom Mrs. Agatha would have turned away but old Betty stabbed at her with bony finger.

"Woman," she croaked, "I'm here t' save the man you love. Come sit ye and list to my telling." Mrs. Agatha faltered, whereupon the Sergeant caught her hand, drawing her into the arbour: and there, sitting beside the old woman they hearkened to her story.

"Mam," said the Sergeant, "ha' ye told my lady Carlyon aught o' this?

"Nay, nay," answered old Betty, "I had a mind to--but they wouldna let me see my lady--the footmen and lackeys laughed at poor old Bet and turned her from the door--so I did come to tell my brave sojer-sergeant."

"'Tis just as well, mam," nodded the Sergeant, "for now you shall come wi' us to his honour, the Major will hear you, I'll warrant me, so come your ways, mam."

"Aye," said Mrs. Agatha, "and you shall eat and drink likewise and after the Sergeant shall drive you back to Inchbourne an he will."

Thus Roger Bent, busied in the herb-garden, chancing to lift his head, stood suddenly upright, staggered back and fell into a clump of parsley; and propped upon an elbow, stared, as well he might, for into the sacred precincts of her stillroom went Mrs. Agatha and the Sergeant but between them tottered the bowed form of old Betty the witch.

"Lord!" exclaimed Roger, ruffling up his shock of hair. "My eyes is sure a-deceiving of me--an' that's what!"

CHAPTER x.x.xVI

HOW THEY RODE TO INCHBOURNE

"And what time doth the moon rise, Zebedee?" enquired the Major as they swung their horses into the high road.

"Ten forty-five about, your honour,"

"Then we've no need for hurry. And egad Zeb, it sounds a wild story!"

"It do so, sir, c.o.c.k and bullish as you might say."

"To abduct my lady, Zeb!"

"On Sat.u.r.day night next as ever was, your honour."

"And this is Friday night!" said the Major thoughtfully.

"Which do give us good time to circ.u.mvent enemy's manoover."

"How many of the rogues will be there, think you?"

"Can't say for sure, sir. 'Twas three on 'em as ambushed me t'other night."

"Why as to that Zeb, as to that I imagine you brought that drubbing on yourself by your somewhat frequent and indiscriminate--er--pewter-play as 'twere."

"Mayhap sir, though if so be rogues were same rogues I should ha'

knowed same, though to be sure 'twere a darkish night and they were masked. Howsobe, my Lord Medhurst pinked one of 'em, his point was prettily bloodied."

"Are you armed, Zeb?"

"Nought to speak of, sir."

"What have you?"

"A sword sir, and a brace o' travelling-pistols as chanced to lay handy which, with your honour's, maketh four shot, two swords and a bagnet."

"Lord, Zeb, we're not going up against a troop!" said the Major, smiling in the dark, "and why the bayonet?"

"'Tis the one I used for to carry when we were on outpost duty at night, sir--the one as I had shortened for the purpose, your honour.

You'll mind as there's nought like a short, stiff bagnet when 'tis a case o' silence. And as for a troop you ha'n't forgot the time as we routed that company o' Bavarian troopers, you and me, sir, thereby proving the advantages o' the element o' surprise?"

"Aye, those were desperate times, Zebedee."

"Mighty different to these, sir."

"Aye, truly, truly!" said the Major, gently.

"But if there is to be a little bit o' cut and thrust work to-night, your honour, 'tis as well to be prepared."

"You think old Betty is to be relied on, Zeb?"

"Aye sir, I do."

"None the less I'm glad my lady Carlyon knoweth nought o' the matter, 'tis best, I think, to keep it from her--at least until we are sure, moreover 'tis like enough she--" the Major paused to rub his chin dubiously, "'tis very like she would only----"

"Laugh, your honour?"

"Hum!" said the Major.

"Lord sir, but she's a woundy fine spirit!" exclaimed the Sergeant.

"True, Zeb, very true!" The Major nodded. "Yet I would she were a thought less venturesome and--ah--contrary at times as 'twere, Zeb----"

"Contrairy, sir? Lord love me, there you have it! Woman is a contrairy sect, 'tis born in 'em! Look at Mrs. Agatha, contrairiness ain't no word for same!"

"How so, Zeb?"

"Why, d'ye see sir, when thinking I'd soon be under marching orders--you then talking o' campaigning again--there's me don't venter to open my mind to her touching matrimony though her a-giving me chances for same constant. To-day here's me--you being settled and wi'

no wish for foreign fields--here's me, d'ye see, looking for chances and occasions to speak wedlock and such constant and her giving me no chances what-so-ever. And that's woman, sir!"

They rode at a gentle, ambling pace and with no sound to disturb the brooding night-silence except the creak of their saddles and the thudding of their horses' hoofs dulled and m.u.f.fled in the dust of the road. A hushed and windless night full of the quivering glamour of stars whose soft effulgence lent to hedge and tree and all things else a vague and solemn beauty; and riding with his gaze uplifted to this heavenly host, the Major thought of Life and Death and many other things, yet mostly of my lady Elizabeth Carlyon, while Sergeant Zebedee, gazing at nothing in particular, dreamed also.

"'Tis as well she should learn nought of the ugly business!" said the Major at last.

"But sir, Mrs. Agatha----"