"Nay, nay, she's no mate for thee, my lad, so let that rest."

"But I cannot,--I will not," cried Sir Mark.

"But thou must, and thou shalt," said the founder. "Now, what can I do to speed thee on thy journey?"

"Nothing," was the reply, "for Sir Thomas has sent a spare horse for my service. Good Master Cobbe, hearken to me. Come: you will accept me as your son-in-law of the future?"

"Go back to the fine madams of the court, my lad, and you'll forget my little lass in a week."

"Nay, by Heaven, I never shall."

"And we shall never see thee more."

"You consent?"

"No," said the founder, sternly. "Good-bye, my lad, and I hope thou forgivest me the prick in the shoulder I gave thee."

"Forgive? I bless you for it," cried Sir Mark, enthusiastically; "and as to our never meeting again, why, man, I shall be back here ere a month has gone by."

"Harkye," cried the founder, laying his hand on the other's arm, "this can only be by some trick or other of thine in thy report. Sir Mark Leslie, if thou play'st me false, look well to thyself."

"Play thee false, Master Cobbe! Nay, I'll only play to win sweet Mace-- and your money," he added to himself. "I shall be back, I tell you, and before long. Now to make my adieux to your daughter."

But Mace returned for answer through Janet that she was too ill to see Sir Mark; and the message was conveyed to him when he was alone.

"And now, pretty Janet, what's it to be," he said--"a kiss or this gold piece?"

"Both," said Janet, promptly, as she held out hand and cheek.

"There they are, then, and mind this, Janet: help me in my suit to win thy mistress, and thou shalt have the handsomest gown thou canst choose, with a gilded stomacher like they wear at court."

"Shall I?" cried the girl, with sparkling eyes.

"Ay, and aught else you like to ask for. Now, farewell."

He printed another kiss on Janet's rosy cheek and a few on her lips, and stayed some little time before he once more sought the founder, who had, however, gone to one of his sheds.

Here a farewell of anything but a friendly nature took place; and, forgetting to bestow any present on the workmen, Sir Mark mounted the horse awaiting him and rode away, to see what sort of a reception he should have from the pompous baronet and his child.

Sir Mark had had his mind so set upon Mace Cobbe that, when at Roehurst, he could think of nothing else, and his every thought on leaving the place was about how to get back from London with a good excuse for staying.

"I must get the old fellow a big order for powder and cannon," he said, "and play my cards so that I have the commission to see the order executed, test the guns and the grains, and then I shall have the old man in my fingers. Only let him accept the Royal order, and I can work him. Ha, ha, ha!" he laughed, "powder not of required strength; flaw in this gun; want of carrying power in that; failure in accuracy in another. Why my dear father-in-law, thou wilt be at my mercy; and if I cannot work you to my ends, in spite of all independence and defiance, my name is not Mark Leslie."

"Why," he added, laughing, "if I failed in managing thee in any other way, Master Cobbe, I have only to hint to His Majesty that here is a clever artificer who maketh strong powder, which he supplies to the Papist, and I could have a score or two of men down to lay you by the heels. Surely I could manage it all if driven to urge him very hard.

But, there, I can get on better by driving him with a light hand. Let me see, why war materials will be wanted for Holland! Tut, lad, it will be easy enough to do."

He rode gently on, having a care to prevent his horse from setting his feet in the deeper holes; and now began a fresh set of thoughts, to wit, concerning Mistress Anne.

"By Bacchus and Venus, and all the gods and goddesses who had to do with the making of love," he cried, "and am I to face that bright-eyed, ruddy-haired piece of tyranny? She was ready to fall in love with me at the first meeting, and here have I treated her and Sir Thomas most scurvily. How am I to behave? Apologise, or take the high hand?"

"The latter!" he cried, touching the fat horse he rode with the spur.

"If I am humble, I shall be slighted. Hang it, I will be courted, for I am from the court."

He rode on through the pleasant woodlands, enjoying the sweet-scented breeze, but only for the agreeable sensations it afforded him; and, almost leaving the horse to follow its own bent, he at last came in sight of the stone pillars which supported the gates leading up to the Moat.

It was a spot that would have delighted poet or artist, that long, embowering avenue of trees, at the end of which stood the mossy pillars, each supporting an impossible monster, which seemed to be putting out its tongue derisively at the visitors to the old house.

Riding along the avenue and through the gates, Sir Mark passed a park-like stretch of grass, and then a belt of trees which almost hid the house, till he was close up to the old moat, from which it took its name; a broad, deep dyke of water that surrounded the building, bordered with a wide-spreading lawn of soft green turf, which was kept closely-shaven, and was dotted with spreading trees, and gnarled, rugged old hawthorns. This wide lawn ran from the edge of the moat to the ivy-grown walls of the quaint mansion, evidently the work, with its florid red brick, of some clever architect of Henry VII's days. To a lover of the picturesque, the place was perfect, with its ivy-softened walls and buttresses, quaintly-shaped windows, shady corners, seats beneath hawthorns, and clipped yews that dotted the old pleasaunce; and nothing could have been more attractive than the wild garden formed by the great lawn, broken by mossy boles, which ran down to the great lily-dappled moat.

Sir Mark drew rein upon the old stone bridge, and gazed around him for a while at the broad leaves floating on the dark, clear water, where some great carp every now and then thrust up its broad snout and with a loud smack sucked down a hapless fly. There was something very attractive about the place; the quaint red building seen amongst the oaks and firs; the dashes of colour here and there of Dame Beckley's flower-beds, many of which were rich with strange plants that Gil Carr had brought from foreign lands and given to Mace for the garden at the Pool-house, and of which Dame Beckley had begged or taken cuttings.

There was an air of sleepy calmness about the old moat that had its effect upon Sir Mark, whose musings upon the bridge took something of this form.

"I am in debt; I get more deeply so; and I can never recover myself, as my expenses increase, without wedding a rich wife. Sir Thomas Beckley, Baronet, cannot live for ever; and this would be a charming place for me to settle down to when I get middle-aged and stout, and have grown to care little for the court.

"But then the lady!

"Hah!" he sighed, "It is the way of the world. If rustic Mace, with her sweet beauty, had thrown herself at me, and dropped like a luscious fruit into my hands, I should have wearied of her in a week; but she is hard to reach so I strive the more; while Mistress Anne, here--

"Hah! I will not be too rash. Suppose I temporise, and am gentle and respectful by turns. Even if I marry Mace, there is no reason why I should scorn one who is nearly as fair. Besides which, if Master Culverin is in favour, then a little revenge upon him by tasting the sweet lips of his other love would not come amiss. Only I must be cautious, or I may go wrong. By Bacchus! here is the lady herself!"

He touched the flank of his horse, for just then he caught sight of the gay colours of Mistress Anne's brocaded gown, where she sat upon a rustic seat, reading beneath a shady tree, of course sublimely ignorant of Sir Mark's approach, as she had been watching for him ever since the messenger had left; and, though her eyes were fixed upon her book, she had read no words since she had seen him pause upon the bridge, and her heart went fluttering beneath its hard belaced cage.

Sir Mark did not know it, but the lady who sat before him in the old pleasaunce, not far from the moat, had come to precisely the same determination as himself. Could she win Gil she would, for his dashing life of adventure always made him seem quite a hero of romance; but, failing Gil, Sir Mark would do. So once more she determined to play a cautious waiting game of the two-strings-to-the-bow fashion; and, therefore, when Sir Mark leaped from the fat cob, sent by Sir Thomas by her special command, and approached her hat in hand, no stranger could possibly have imagined that there was such a place in the world as the Pool-house, where dwelt sweet Mace Cobbe, to whose greater attractions Sir Mark had yielded, and stayed away. The handsome courtier from town might have just returned from a visit to the foundry after but a few hours' absence so smiling and pleasant was his reception beneath the trees.

"By Bacchus, she's a sensible girl after all," thought Sir Mark.

"I may bring him to my knees yet," thought Mistress Anne; "and, if I do, I'll hold him till Gil Carr asks me to be his wife, and then--"

A flash sped from her eye full of malicious glee, as, taking her hand once more _a la minuet_, Sir Mark led her up towards the house, where, well-schooled by his daughter, Sir Thomas squeezed his fat face into a smile, and declared he was glad to see his guest again.

"Your inspection has taken you a long time, Sir Mark," he said.

"It has been a tedious task," was the reply; "and even now I have not done."

"Indeed?" said Mistress Anne.

"Nay," he replied; "it is quite possible that I may have to return within the month to continue my report."

As he spoke he glanced furtively at Mistress Anne, to see what effect it would have upon her. To his satisfaction, she clapped her hands joyously.

"I _am_ so glad," she cried, with childlike glee. Then, as if ashamed of her outburst, she looked down and blushed, ending by glancing timidly at Sir Mark.

"She's very charming, after all," he thought, as he smiled upon her.

"Poor girl, she can't help it, I suppose;" and he felt a pleasant glow of self-satisfaction and conceit run through his veins.

"We see so little company," simpered Anne.

"Really, you've seen very little of me," said Sir Mark. "But duty-- duty, Sir Thomas. I felt bound to stay there and keep matters well under my own eyes."