"Show him in here; see to his horse, and find stabling for him. The gentleman may perhaps make stay for the night."

Without any other acknowledgment that he understood the instructions, than by proceeding to obey them, the taciturn attendant turned on his heel, and glided out of the apartment.

The arrival of a guest at that, or any other hour, caused but little surprise to the host of Stone Dean. There was nothing unusual in the circ.u.mstance. On the contrary, more than a moiety of his visitors were accustomed to make their calls after midnight--not unfrequently taking their departure before morning. Hence the "perhaps" in the orders given to Oriole.

"Who can he be?" was Holtspur's self-interrogation, as his attendant pa.s.sed out of the room. "I expected no one to-night."

The grave sonorous voice, at this moment interrogating the Indian, furnished no clue to the speaker's ident.i.ty. Holtspur did not recognise it.

There was no reply on the part of Oriole; but his silent gesticulation must have proved sufficient: for, shortly after, the tread of a heavy boot, accompanied by a slight tinkling of rowelled spurs, sounded within the hall. In another moment a tall dark man made his appearance in the doorway; and without waiting further invitation, or even taking off his hat, stepped resolutely into the room.

The individual, thus freely presenting himself, was a man of peculiar-- almost rude--aspect. He was dressed in a suit of coa.r.s.e brown cloth, a felt hat without any feather, and strong trusset boots--the heels of which were furnished with iron spurs, exceedingly rusty. Instead of lace, he wore a band of plain linen of the narrowest cut; which, with the closely-trimmed hair above it, betokened an affectation of the Puritan costume, whatever may have been the religious proclivities of the wearer.

Notwithstanding the commonness of his attire, there was nothing, either in his countenance or demeanour, that proclaimed him a mere messenger, or servant. On the contrary, the slight salute which he vouchsafed to the cavalier, the non-removal of his hat, and the air of cool confidence which he continued to preserve, after entering the room, bespoke a man, who, whatever his rank in life, was not accustomed to cringe in the presence of the proudest.

The face was rather serious than sour. The hair was dark--the skin slightly cadaverous--though the features were not disagreeable to look upon. Though far from cheerful in their expression, they were interesting from a certain cast denoting calmness and courage; traits of character further confirmed by the determined glance of a penetrating coal-black eye.

"By the dust upon your doublet, Master," said Holtspur, after returning the salutation of his visitor, "you have left some miles of road behind you, since setting foot in the stirrup?"

"Twenty-five."

"That is just the distance to London. Thence, I presume?"

"From London."

"May I ask your errand?"

"I come from _John_," replied the stranger, laying a significant emphasis on the name.

"You have a message for me?"

"I have."

There was a pause--Holtspur remaining silent--as if awaiting the delivery of the message.

"Before declaring my errand," pursued the stranger, "I want a word, to make sure you are he for whom it is intended."

"The John who sent you, is the same who n.o.bly resisted payment of the _ship money_."

"Enough!" a.s.sented the messenger, taking a despatch from under the breast of his doublet, and, without farther hesitancy, handing it to his host.

There was no superscription upon the folded paper; but, as the cavalier broke it open under the light of the lamp, at the head of the page could be seen something that resembled an address--written in hieroglyphics.

The body of the despatch was in plain English, and as follows:

"_A cuira.s.sier captain--Scarthe by name--has gone down with the skeleton of a troop to your neighbourhood. It is believed he has a commission to recruit. He is to be quartered on Sir Marmaduke Wade; but you will know all this before our messenger reaches you. It is well. Sir Marmaduke will surely hold out no longer? Make some excuse to see him, and ascertain how this_ benevolence _acts. Do all you can, without compromising yourself to make the recruiting unpopular. Call the friends together at the old rendezvous on the night of the 20th. Pym, and Martin, and I will be down, and perhaps young Harry Vane. If you could get Sir Marmaduke to attend, it would be a point. See that your invitations are conveyed with due secrecy, and by trusty hands. I give you but little time. Act with caution: for this cuira.s.sier captain, who is a courtier of some note, is doubtless entrusted with other commissions, besides that of raising recruits. Keep your eye upon him; and keep his as much as may be off yourself. My Messenger returns here at once. Feed his horse, and despatch him. You may trust the man. He has suffered in the cause: as you may convince yourself by glancing under the brim of his beaver. Don't be offended if he insist on wearing it in your presence. It's a way he has. He will himself tell you his name, which for certain reasons may not be written here. The good work goes bravely on_."

So ended the despatch.

There was no name appended. None was needed; for although the handwriting was not that of the great patriot, Henry Holtspur well knew that the dictation was his. It was not the first communication of a similar kind that had pa.s.sed between him and Hampden.

The first thing which he did, after reading the despatch, was to cast a stealthy glance at the individual who had been its bearer; and directed towards that portion immediately under his hat.

Holtspur could observe nothing there--at least nothing to explain the ambiguous allusion in the letter of his correspondent. One circ.u.mstance, however, was singular. On both sides, the brim of the beaver was drawn down, and fastened in this fashion by a strap of leather pa.s.sing under the chin: as if the wearer had caught cold in his ears, and wished to protect them from the night air.

The oddness of the style did not remain long a puzzle. He who had adopted it noticed the furtive scrutiny of the cavalier, and answered it with a grim smile.

"You perceive that I wear my hat rather slouchingly--not to say ill-manneredly," said he. "It has been my fashion of late. Why I've taken to it would be explained by my uncovering; but perhaps it would save trouble, if I tell you my name. I am William Prynne."

"Prynne!" exclaimed the cavalier, starting forward and eagerly grasping the Puritan by the hand. "I am proud to see you under my poor roof; and such hospitality as I can show--"

"Henry Holtspur need not declare these sentiments to William Prynne,"

said the earless Puritan, interrupting the complimentary speech. "The friend of the oppressed is well-known to all who have suffered; and I am of that number. I thank you for a hospitality which I can partake of for but a few minutes. Then I must bid you adieu, and be gone. The work of the Lord must not tarry. The harvest is fast ripening; and it behoves the reapers to get their sickles in readiness."

The cavalier was too much alive to the necessity of the times, to spend a moment in idle speech. Directing the messenger's horse to be fed--a duty which the ex-footpad took upon himself to perform--he ordered Oriole to place a repast before his visitor.

To this the hungry Puritan, notwithstanding his haste, proceeded to do ample justice; while Holtspur, throwing open his desk, hurriedly indited an answer to the letter of his correspondent.

Like the despatch, it was neither directed nor signed by any name, that could compromise either the writer or him for whom it was intended. The greatest danger would be to him who was to be entrusted with its delivery. But the staunch partisan of religious liberty recked little of the risk. The great cause, glowing in his zealous heart, rendered him insensible to petty fears; and, after finishing his hurried meal, he once more betook himself to the saddle; shook the hand of his host with cold yet fraternal grasp; bade adieu to Stone Dean; and rode swiftly and silently away.

Volume One, Chapter XXIV.

Before the hoof-strokes of the Puritan's horse had ceased grinding on the gravelled path, Holtspur summoned the ex-footpad into his presence.

During the interval that had elapsed, the latter had not been idling his opportunity: as was indicated by the condition of the haunch of cold venison of which he had been invited to partake; and which was the same set before the traveller who had just taken his departure. A huge _creva.s.se_, scooped crosswise out of the joint, told incontestably that Garth had supped to his satisfaction; while a tankard of strong ale, which accompanied the missing meat, had set his spirits in a very satisfactory state.

As he had previously obtained sufficient sleep--to compensate for his loss of that necessary restorative on the preceding night--he was now ready for anything--according to his own declaration "anything, from pitch and toss up to manslaughter!"

It was fortunate he was in this prime condition: since his services-- though not for any sanguinary purpose--were just then needed.

"Garth!" began the cavalier, as his old retainer entered the room, "I hinted to you, that a good cause might stand in need of you soon. It needs you _now_."

"I'm ready, Master Henry, to do your bidding an' though I never cut throat in my life, if _you_ say the word--"

"Shame--shame! Gregory! Don't, my good fellow allow your thoughts to run into such frightful extremes. Time enough to talk of throat-cutting when,"--here the cavalier paused in his speech; "never mind when," he continued--"I want you just now for a purpose altogether pacific."

"Oh, anything ye like, Master Henry. I'm ready to turn Puritan, an' go a preechin', if you're in the mind to make a 'missioner' o' me. I had a word or two with that theer 'un, whiles ye war a writin' him out his answer; an' he gied me a consid'rable insight into theer way o'

translatin' the Scripter. I reckon it be the right way; though 'taint accordin' to old Master Laud an' his Romish clargy."

"Come, Garth!" said the cavalier, speaking impatiently; "the service for which I want you has nothing to do with religious matters. I'm in need of a messenger--one who knows the county--more especially the residences of a number of the gentry, to whom I have occasion to send letters. How long have you been living in Buckinghamshire?"

"Well, Master Henry, I've been in an' about old Bucks a tidyish time-- off an' on I reckon for the better part o' the last ten year--indeed, iver since I left the old place, you know--but I han't niver been over a entire year in one partikler place at a time, d'ye see. My const.i.tution ha' been rather delicate at times, an' needed change o' air."

"You know the topography of the county, I suppose?"

"I doan't understand what ye mean by that ere topografy. It be a biggish sort o' a word. If you mean the _roads_, I knows _them_, putty nigh as well as the man that made 'em--specially them as runs atween here an' Oxford."

"Good! That's the very direction in which I stand in need of a trusty messenger. I have others I can send towards the north and south, but none who know anything of the Oxford side. You will do. If you are familiar with the roads in that direction, then you must also be acquainted with most of the residences near them--I mean those of the gentry."