jewels by the way. I never could keep anything that was precious in my life--'tis but yesterday I lost a diamond; and as for secrets, I am so conscious of my carelessness, that I always give them to the next person I meet with, being quite sure that any one will preserve them better than myself."

The stranger bit his lip; but the host entering the moment after, stopped him in his reply. When the supper was over, however, he kept his eyes fixed upon the lady, while the host and the servant were clearing away all that encumbered the table: and it was evident that he was waiting impatiently for them to be gone. But just as the landlord was about to retire, Arabella addressed him in a quiet tone, saying, "Send my girl Marian hither, mine host; I wish to speak with her."

The Baron made him a quick and scarcely perceptible sign; and by some accident the landlord quite forgot to obey the lady's behest, taking the opportunity of scolding his daughter for something that had gone amiss, and then aiding the rest of the party who were assembled in the kitchen to consume the remains of the supper which he had brought out of the neighbouring room.

In that chamber the Lady Arabella and the Baron de Mardyke, as we must call him for the time, remained for nearly twenty minutes, while the host and the Baron's followers talked loud, and passed many a joke and many a cup of good strong ale round the table. The girl Marian and one of the Lady Arabella's servants were seated with the rest: but the other serving-man had remained at the stable tending the horses. At the end of the time we have mentioned, however, he made his appearance again; and the voices of the horse-boys of the inn were heard without the door. Marian started up as soon as she saw him; and the man, who was a bluff English servant of some forty-five, or fifty years of age, walked straight up to the chamber where his mistress was, and opening the door, said aloud, "The horses are waiting, lady!"

The cheek of Lady Arabella Stuart was somewhat flushed and her face grave; but she instantly resumed her sweet and playful smile, while her companion exclaimed, "You surely are not going on, in such a night as this, madam?"

"As surely as I live," replied the lady; "you know, good sir, I could not plunder you of your lodging as well as your supper; and so I will even wish you a fair good night, and take my leave, beseeching you to bear in mind what I have said, as on that score I change not, and it may be well to be careful. I thank you for your courtesy," she continued, "though, if I had known one part of my entertainment here, I should have found shelter elsewhere."

Thus saying, she adjusted her head-gear, while moving across the kitchen towards the door of the inn; and, taking a piece of gold from a silken purse which she carried in her bosom, she gave it to the host, saying, "That's for your fee, my friend; but remember, another time when I tell you to send my woman to me, do as you are directed."

The host made a thousand apologies, laying the blame upon a bad memory; and the Lady Arabella, without heeding him, issued forth into the night with her servants following, the landlady and her daughter curtseying, and the host holding a lantern snatched up in haste.

In the meantime, the personage who had borne her company at supper, was surrounded by his three companions, asking him questions in a low, but rapid voice.

"She is a fool," he replied, "and yet not a fool either,--keen enough as to what concerns her not, but blind to her own interest. She casts away a crown," he added, in a lower tone, "as a child does a long-used plaything."

"Will she betray us?" asked one of his companions.

"I think not," replied the other.

"Think not?" said a third, "we had better make sure of that!" But, at the same moment, the sound of horses' feet trotting away was heard; and the landlord and his family came back from the door.

CHAPTER III.

The old hall was warm and comfortable; the great, wide, open hearth displayed some half-dozen logs of blazing wood; and the fitful flame of the fire, outshining the two candles that stood upon the table, flickered round the whole room, glancing upon the quaint old carvings that surrounded the panels, prying into the deep bays of the windows, and catching here and there upon some well-polished casque, breastplate, or other piece of ancient armour, which, suspended by hooks and brackets, ornamented the walls. The ceiling, which was of old oak, like the wainscot, was lost in the obscurity above; but the rich mantelpiece was fully seen by the light of the candles near it, and was the pride of the room and that part of the country. It had been carved by a famous Flemish artist, and presented by him to good Sir Harry West for some kindly service rendered during the time of the Low Country wars. What was the deed that merited the gift we do not, indeed, know; but it is probable that the oaken sculpture had some reference to the cause of the sculptor's gratitude, as on either side of the chimney stood the figure of an armed knight, in full relief, bearing upon his shoulder a corner of the entablature, on which was represented, in a smaller size, the history of the good Samaritan.

Before the fire-place, at a convenient distance, stood a round table, covered with the relics of the evening-meal. Drinking-cups are there, and flagons, and it would seem that in that squat, flat-sided, long-necked bottle, there is some precious and much-esteemed liquor, from the tall glasses, gilt and bedizened, which stand by, and can never be destined for the conveyance of any unworthy fluid. Between the table and the fire, so near the former that the elbow could rest comfortably upon it, sat the good knight the master of the house, and his young kinsman; and between them, again, and the chimney, lay a large, shaggy hound, such as would have delighted the soul of a Landseer, or a Scott, and who may have been a remote connexion of one of those immortalized by Rubens. Stretched out like a trussed hare, with his paws before him, and his long muzzle gracefully leaning over the ankle next to the fire, the good dog seemed to be asleep; and, perhaps, had his head been in a position to accomplish such a feat, he might have nodded from time to time; but, nevertheless, he was evidently only in a state of pleasant drowsiness, for ever and anon he opened his keen eyes, and gazed into the fire, as if wondering what that extraordinary element could be, and twice lifted up his head, and looked in his master's face, to see that all was right, speedily settling himself down to his doze again.

It is a sweet and pleasant thing for two old, familiar friends to spend together a long hour after the sun has gone down, and when all the world is quiet, in a warm room, with a blazing fire, and with the moderate use of the pure juice of the grape to fill the intervals of conversation. No haste is upon them, no hurry, no hateful pressure of importunate business; there they can sit as long as they choose; it matters not whether they rise the next minute, or three hours hence. They are free--in short, free from the bondage of worldly affairs, and can do what they think fit with their little treasure of time. No liberty is more pleasant than the emancipation, from all the chains, and shackles, and bars, and bonds of business; and there, when Memory, sweet Memory, takes us by the hand, and leads us back into the flower garden of other years, and points out all the blossoming things that we loved, looking as fresh and beautiful as ever, how sweet are the sensations, how entrancing would