"Nay!" exclaimed the founder, sharply, as something of his old mien showed itself in his countenance. "Sir Mark Leslie, I am a rough yeoman of the country, but I have something of the gentleman at my heart. You insult me by your suspicions. I gave you my word, and my hand upon it, that my child should be your wife, and I repent me of it now; but Jeremiah Cobbe is not the man to go back from his word, and, sooner than Gil Carr should forcibly carry her away, I'd take him myself, and deliver him into your hand."

"I did but jest, father," said Sir Mark, grasping the founder's hand.

"Now, let us see something of pretty little Mace for an hour, before I perfect my plans."

Janet was summoned, but she announced that her mistress was busy preparing things for her departure, and the girl hurried back to Mace's room, to gloat over the silk dresses and presents that lay about.

Other messages were sent to Mace in the course of the evening, but she refused to come, and at last, out of patience, as the soft autumn night began to fall, Sir Mark went out to finish his arrangements.

"You are master, to-day, my lady," he muttered; "to-morrow I shall rule, and you'll know it too."

Had Gil dared to post a man nearer to the house, he would have known of the preparations made to entrap him, though possibly they would not have kept him back. As it was he knew nothing of the well-armed soldiers who, punctual to the moment, marched across the bridge, and were rapidly disposed in suitable places by Sir Mark, who exhibited no mean generalship in his plans.

Then came the waiting, and Sir Mark stood listening with the founder by his side.

"They'll not come," said the latter, impatiently, after a weary while.

"Hist! there is one," whispered Sir Mark, as a footstep cautiously crossed the bridge.

"Why it is a woman," said the founder.

"A disguise," replied Sir Mark. "Gil himself."

"Nay, it is Mother Goodhugh. I know her walk and her tap with her stick. The old hag! I'll go and turn her back. What does she want?"

"Bah! be silent, man; she comes to see the maids--fortune-telling, or to beg for something in the way of cakes or wine. I'll not have my plans spoiled now. Hist! what's that?"

It was a heavier foot this time, and unmistakeably Gil and a companion had arrived. Then followed the rustling of the ladder, the waiting, the signal whistle, and, when the bridge had been closed, Sir Mark's summons to surrender.

Lights flashed upon the dark scene as Sir Mark's command rang out, and Gil saw that he and his men were far outnumbered.

He stamped his foot impatiently, for, though he felt no fear of being beaten, the presence of these men might hinder the carrying out of his plans.

"Surrender, you dog!" roared Sir Mark again. "In the King's name, I say. Shoot down every man who resists."

A scornful roar of laughter was the response; and, as the heavy guns of the period were levelled, Gil's men, lithe and active as wild cats, leaped at their bearers with their swords, dashing the guns up, so that the scattered volley that followed sent the bullets skyward, while man after man was knocked down by a blow or the recoil of the piece.

Then commenced a furious fight; sword clashed with sword; there were groans, oaths, and cries; and, as Mace's casement was opened, its occupant gazed down, shuddering at the hideous, torch-lit scene in the trampled garden.

"Be ready with that ladder, Wat," cried Gil, hoarsely. "She must be got away now at any cost. Hah! there is Sir Mark."

As he uttered the words he sprang at his rival, who had recognised him at the same moment by the flickering light of one of the torches borne by a soldier, who held it on high as he tried to take aim at Wat Kilby with a wheel-lock pistol, from beneath Mace's window.

"Surrender!" shouted Sir Mark. "Quick, here, men, here!"

"Surrender yourself," roared Gil, as with a rush he beat aside the other's guard, closed with him, and forced him down, where he lay with Gil's knee at his throat.

Their leader's cry, though, brought half-a-dozen men to his side, and blade in hand they would have cut down Gil had it not been for Wat, whose orders had been to stay there with the ladder. Raising this, he drove it with a crash against one man, who had raised his point, and was in the act of striking another, when Sir Mark recovered himself sufficiently to get at a dagger, which he would have plunged into his opponent, had he not felt himself scorched by a blinding glare, as he, Gil, and Wat and those by him were hurled headlong amongst the trampled bushes, and, before they could realise what had happened, there was a mighty roar, as if thunder had come from earth instead of sky, and then gone rolling across the Pool, to die away in echoes amongst the hills.

Volume 3, Chapter V.

HOW THE LOVE PHILTRE WORKED.

If Mother Goodhugh had stood by while it was done, Janet the weak would have taken the decoction placed in her hands; but, foolish as the girl was, she had her share of cunning.

"If I give it to her and it does make her love turn to hatred, he must turn to me; and, if after all she cares more for Captain Carr, why even then it may turn right for me. Does the old thing think I'd take the stuff? Clever as she be, others be clever too. But how shall I give it to her?"

Janet took the little flask out of her bosom, which was her hiding-place for particular things--ribbons, scraps of lace, a scent-bottle wonderfully like one of Mace's--and looked at it attentively.

"A little every day," she said; and the next morning she poured a portion into a jug that stood for drinking purposes in her mistress's room.

That afternoon Mace went up to her bedroom with a bunch of flowers from the garden, which she placed in a shallow basin, and the contents of the jug were used to keep them alive!

The same evening, finding the jug empty, Janet refilled it, and again poured in a little of the contents of the flask.

She had just completed her task when she heard Mace's step upon the stairs, and in her haste to replace the stopper of the flask she let it fall upon the floor, where it broke; and she had only time to throw the broken glass out of the window, and drag a piece of carpet over the stain on the floor, before her mistress entered the room.

Janet escaped as soon as possible and sought refuge in the kitchen, from whence she stole round to the garden and picked up the broken bottle, then ran back, throwing the pieces into the water-race as she hurried along.

"I dare say she will have taken enough," she said to herself, "and, if she has not, I'll try no more. I hate myself for doing it. Poor girl, she looks more as if she was going to be buried than married."

In fact, Janet's heart was not very deeply touched, and she would have been ready to hand over her young affections to anybody a little more eligible than Master Wat Kilby, who was rather too old for her taste.

During these busy days, too, there was so much to take her attention, for she had all a girl's love and excitement in an approaching wedding.

First and foremost there came a present to her from Sir Mark in the shape of what was to her a most handsome dress.

"That's for thee, pretty Janet," he said; "and when we come back from our wedding jaunt I'll bring thee a handsome husband as sure as I live.

One kiss for it," he said; and he took it, and another and another. How many dozens he would have taken it is impossible to say, only the founder's step was heard, and Janet fled with her dress by another way.

"The spell be working somehow," she said to herself joyously. "May be he will turn her over yet, and marry me himself."

She hurried up to her room to inspect her gown-piece, and smooth her ruffled hair.

"Oh, these men, how wicked they be!" she cried half-petulantly, as she gazed at her flushed cheeks in a damp-stained mirror.

"I be handsomer than mistress pale-face down stairs," she cried, giving her head a toss. "Fie on her! why does she not go and wed with Captain Culverin, and leave me Sir Mark."

The gown-piece again took her attention, and she folded it in pleats and tucks, and draped herself in it, ending by doubling it over and over, and laying it flat beneath her bed.

"I'll go see her presents now," she said; and she descended to Mace's room to find the jug untouched.

"Perhaps shell never wear these gauds after all," muttered Janet, as she went to the dressing-table and examined the presents Sir Mark had brought, rich jewels some of them, with laces and ribbons enough for a dozen weddings; but the white satin dress hanging across a chair was the great attraction for Janet, with its puckers and folds, and great stomacher dotted with pearls.

"It be brave!" she cried, as she went down upon her knees to gaze at it, and lay portions of the skirt across her arm, or feel its softness against her cheek.

And so the time glided on till the eve of the wedding, when, pale and dark of eye with want of sleep, Mace felt that the excitement was more than she could bear.

It was very terrible, she told herself, and again and again she asked her conscience whether she was doing wisely in listening to Gil's prayers. It was an act of disobedience to her father, whom she dearly loved, and yet she felt that she clung to her lover more. But even now she would, in obedience to her father's wishes, have refused Gil and remained unwed. To be forced, though, to become the wife of one whom she utterly detested she felt was impossible, and she knew that she must go.