CHAPTER XXV

They were up at cock-crow next morning, and away upon their long ride north just as soon as they had broken their fast, and procured fresh horses.

Dominica felt herself to be moving in a dream; events had marched so swiftly that she was dazed by them. She awoke to hear Joshua scratching on her door, and for a moment imagined the previous day's wild work to be a figment of her fancy. But Joshua's voice, unmistakably his brisk voice, was bidding her rise up, and she knew herself to be living in no dream.

Breakfast in a small parlour leading off the taproom downstairs awaited her. She found Sir Nicholas there, neat as ever, and because she was suddenly shy and tongue-tied she could only give him her little hand to kiss, and say in a voice that tried to hide her shyness: "Ah, Señor Nicholas, I see you have that clean ruff Joshua spoke of, so I suppose you did not leave your pack behind."

He flung up a hand. "A' God's Name, let me hear no more of that pack!" he said in comic dismay. "I have heard of little else from that tickle-brain behind you since my coming last night."

She looked round at Joshua's disapproving face. Joshua pulled out a stool for her from under the table, but fixed a wintry look upon Sir Nicholas. "Ay, master, no doubt it is very well to talk in such careless wise, but I shall take leave to say that to throw away a new doublet of murry taffeta and a pair of stocks broidered with gold quirks about the ankles, not to make mention of a set of silver aiglets and a pair of trunk hose scarce worn, passeth the bounds of prodigality."

"Peace, froth!" said Sir Nicholas, and sat him down opposite to his lady at the table. His eyes smiled at her across the covers. "It is in my mind, ladybird, that we have not sat at table together since you were aboard the _Venture_." The twinkle deepened. "Do you remember that you were loth to take wine from my hands?" He picked up the bottle at his elbow and regarded it with uplifted brows. "You might well be loth to take this from me," he remarked. "What is it, Joshua?"

"Scarce potable, I allow," said Joshua gloomily. "A very vile drink, sir, but what would you?"

Dominica's tongue became loosened. She must tell Sir Nicholas of the curious fancy that had come to her when Don Diego offered her wine of Alicante, and when that was done she found she had left her shyness behind her.

The horses were saddled and ready. As Dominica set her foot in Beauvallet's hand she looked saucily at Joshua, and said: "Now, Joshua, you shall see whether I can ride hard or no."

She showed her mettle that day; she had done with fears and doubts. While she rode with Sir Nicholas at her side there could be nothing to alarm her. She had doubted that he would not reach Madrid, and he had done so; she had been sure that he could not escape from prison, and he had escaped; she had feared that he would not survive yesterday's grim work, and here he was, safe and gay as ever. She could never again doubt his extraordinary faculty of coming off safe from seemingly hopeless traps.

There seemed to be no peril now. Joshua might sniff the air, and keep an ear cocked to the rearward, but Sir Nicholas, leading the way over the hills, was care-free and merry. So, too, would his lady be, then.

The long journey taxed her powers to the uttermost, but she would not admit her weariness. She sat as straight as she could, laughed at the bad road, swore she was very well content, and had no wish to rest her limbs. They lost the way; why, it was part of the adventure, and her Nicholas would soon find it again; her horse stumbled on a craggy mountain-side and nearly came down with her: let them not worry, she was safe enough; the sun was scorchingly hot: why, she was used to a hot clime, and would take no hurt.

Joshua was moved to admiration. "With good leave," he said, "I may remark that the señorita bears herself like an Englishwoman."

"This is to praise you, child," said Sir Nicholas, amused.

She nodded and laughed, and grew pink. "I shall very shortly be one, Señor Pirate, shall I not?" she said, and peeped at him.

His hand closed on hers. "My heart!"

They had to travel 'cross country where roads failed them, and this meant slow going for the most part, for the way was very rough, and they had need to study the rough plans Sir Nicholas had made. The shadows were lengthening long before they came within sight of the sea, and Joshua began to fret. He pushed up alongside to gain Beauvallet's ear. "Master, we shall never make it in time," he whispered.

Dominica caught the whisper. "Then let us press on," she said. "We must have Señor Nicholas away to-night without fail."

That made Beauvallet laugh, and even drew a smile from Joshua. This, however, he quickly suppressed. "The señorita speaks wisely," he said. "Rare to junket about Spain singing catches as though we were at Alreston, but I would take leave to remind you, master, that you are a hunted man."

"Oh, wind-bag," said Sir Nicholas genially, "if I could make better way be sure I should. Broken knees won't serve us. We shall make that port this night."

Make it they did, but later than they had hoped for, losing their road in the darkness, and only finding it again after much casting about. Dominica swayed in the saddle, upheld whenever it was possible by a strong, tireless arm, but when she heard Joshua swearing amongst the boulders she could still laugh, though it was but a weary, would-be valiant little laugh.

They saw the lights of the tiny port ahead; Sir Nicholas snuffed the air. "I can smell the sea," he said. "Courage, my bird!"

Her head drooped against his shoulder. He made a movement to summon up Joshua upon his other side.

"Walk warily now," he said in a low voice. "If word was sent to the ports to stop our passage, those at Santander will know very well where to look for us."

Joshua started. "God's me, I had not thought of that! Ay, they would remember how you landed there."

A drowsy voice spoke from Beauvallet's shoulder. "Oh yes, they would never forget. We stayed with the Governor of Santander the day after you set us ashore, and I would you could have heard him."

Sir Nicholas looked significantly at Joshua. Joshua stifled a groan, and shrugged. "A posse of soldiers, I dare swear. I might have guessed we were not yet out of the trap." He looked up at the cloudy sky. "What o'clock? Nay, how shall we say? It but remains to find no ship awaiting. What, would she stay right through the night? One cannot suppose it. She will sniff the dawn at hand and be off."

"Dawn, stock-fish?" said Sir Nicholas. "If it is past eleven you may call me a dolt."

"I have a better regard for my skin, master," said Joshua, with dignity.

They gave a wide berth to the cluster of cottages that formed the port, and pricked their way cautiously down the hill towards the sound of the sea lapping on the shingle. It was very dark, and the ground was strewed with rocks and hillocks and patches of stones. Sir Nicholas reined in his horse and turned in the saddle to speak to Joshua. "We make nothing by this. We shall do best to tether the nags and go on afoot."

Joshua nodded and slid down from the saddle. Sir Nicholas was on the ground, and already lifting Dominica down. Her legs almost gave way under her; she staggered and caught at his hand. He would have lifted her in his arms, but she shook her head. "No, no, I would rather walk. I am only so stiff."

They went forward, Joshua close behind them with the lantern he had bought that morning in Villanova. Somewhere below them the waves were breaking gently on the beach; the ground shelved steeply towards it. Sir Nicholas stopped. "Light the lantern, Joshua," he said softly.

Joshua knelt to open it. He looked up. "Master, a cloak to hide the light."

Sir Nicholas swung the cloak from his shoulders and held it round both Joshua and the lamp. Joshua was busy with his tinder-box; a spark flared, and the wick caught.

Dominica felt numb with fatigue still. She sank down on a convenient rock and watched Joshua tending his lamp under cover of the cloak. The wash of the sea sounded like a lullaby; she wondered whether, somewhere to the north in the velvety darkness the _Venture_ lurked. They seemed so alone in the world in this silence of the night that it hardly seemed possible. Down by the huts men might be stirring, but here on the shelving stony ground all was silent, hushed by the sea.

Sir Nicholas looked keenly round, peering through the darkness. For as far as he could see there was no one abroad. Come what might, the signal must be given. He took the lamp from Joshua and held it high above his head. Then he dipped it quickly, and cloaked it while a man might count twenty. Again he showed it, and yet a third time.

There was a pause. "Oh knaves, if ye be not there!" muttered Joshua. "Oh, Master Dangerfield, I do not trust you!"

Away to the north out of the blackness shone a pin-point of light three times. The _Venture_ had answered the signal.

"Ha, true men!" said Joshua in high fettle. "I would wager young Master Dangerfield against an hundred!"

His wrist was clamped hard. "Silence, man!" hissed Sir Nicholas, and threw up his head to listen.

Joshua stiffened like a dog. To the west of them had come a shout, muffled by the wash of the sea.

"God's Death, they've posted a sentry on the look-out!" muttered Sir Nicholas, and pulled his long dagger from its sheath.

Joshua had his head under the cloak blowing out the lantern. Heavy footsteps were approaching at a jog-trot. Sir Nicholas went forward into the night noiseless and swift.

A man loomed up out of the darkness with a levelled halberd. He was on to Beauvallet before he realized it, and went down with no more than a groan as the dagger struck home.

"Ha, neatly done!" said Joshua, not above a whisper, and with complete satisfaction. He put up his own weapon, which he had snatched out as he ran after his master.

But in the distance another cry sounded, as though a fellow-soldier answered that first call.

Sir Nicholas was back at Dominica's side wiping his dagger. "More of them," he said grimly. "The Governor of Santander has my compliments." He swept Dominica up into his arms. "Lie still, fondling," he said. "Naught to fear yet awhile. Down to the beach, Joshua, and on your life no sound!"

He was off into the darkness as he spoke. Joshua crept after, murmuring to himself. "Naught to fear, forsooth! Well-a-day, well-a-day! and we with the whole pack like to be on us at any minute now! The fiend seize these stones!"

They were halfway down the steep hillside, skirting rocks, slipping on loose stones. Above, on the higher ground, came the crack of an arquebus fired into the air.

"Ha!" muttered Joshua. "That may be a signal to the rest of the pack, but I warrant it will bring our men on fast! I shall die in my bed yet. Courage, Joshua!" He felt level sands under his feet, and quickened his steps to come up with Sir Nicholas, lost in the darkness. Behind, on the high ground, footsteps were running and voices could be heard calling to one another. From the huts to the west came also a stir. Lights showed bobbing on the path above. The hunt was up.

Dominica was set on her feet by the water's edge. Sir Nicholas wrenched his fretful sword from the scabbard, watching those moving lights as they came nearer, wobbling down the slope, outlining the forms of armed men.

The soldiers were casting about now from the looks of it. In the glimmer of the few lanterns Beauvallet could see them peering and searching with halberds levelled. There was but a handful of them, but enough to settle the account of two Englishmen; and from the huts, along the path upon the hill, more were coming to their assistance.

Joshua had waded out into the water, striving to catch the sound of oars. He came back and touched Beauvallet's arm. "To the right, master, I think."

Sir Nicholas took Dominica's hand and followed. The faint sound of oars grew more distinct; others beside themselves had heard it. From further up the beach came a shout of command, and a surge of some four or five men towards the water.

"Row, ye devils, row!" groaned Joshua, fairly dancing with impatience.

The soldiers were slipping and stumbling over the shingle; from the dark water came a lusty shout; they could hear Dangerfield's clear voice raised: "Pull, sluggards, pull!" Then the richer voice of the boatswain came to them, chanting in imitation of a waterman: "Heave and ho! rumbelow!"

It was a race now grimmer than any that had been, a race between that boat cleaving desperately through the water and the soldiers pelting down to cut off the fugitives. Joshua stayed peering out to sea to spy the boat, but Sir Nicholas had his back turned and waited, drawn sword in hand, to check the rush from the land.

The splash of oars was close now; another moment and Joshua saw the boat come nosing shoreward. Behind him the foremost of the soldiers had run on his doom, and Sir Nicholas' sword was red. But now lusty seamen were wading ashore, jostling each other to be the first to reach land, and the air was rent by solid English oaths. The handful of soldiers on the beach drew back. They had courage enough, but lacked a leader, and it was plain that a sprinkling of soldiers could not hope to stand against this troop of bloodthirsty seamen. They fell back then and sent up a mighty yell to warn their comrades that there was need of haste. But the party from the huts was not yet at hand, though it was coming with all possible speed to the rescue.

"Ha, rogues!" shrieked Joshua. "In a good hour!"

"Beauvallet and spare not!" sang out the boatswain, and reached the sands with a splash and a bound. "How fares your honour?"

"Rarely!" laughed Sir Nicholas.

Master Dangerfield was at his elbow. "My God, sir, you have made it!" he cried, and grasped at Beauvallet's hand.

There was a fight in the air, all around the murmur of it. "Ho, Spanish Papishers!" a voice growled. "Now see what comes to those who chase our Nick!"

A second voice bawled out cheerfully: "Ay, have at 'em, lads!" and there was a surge forward up the beach.

Sir Nicholas was only just in time to stop it. "Back, ye rogues!"

The rush was checked, but there was dissatisfaction abroad. The _Venture's_ crew had been spoiling for a fight all this past fortnight of weary waiting; the excuse was provided, the men were elated, and it was felt that those who had the temerity to harry the _Venture's_ commander needed to be taught a lesson.

"What, not one blow, sir?" said the boatswain reproachfully.

Sir Nicholas was amongst his refractory crew. "Back, dogs! Man me that boat!" He beat them back with the flat of his sword. "By God, I will have you all in irons if you man me not that boat!" he swore cheerfully.

There was a chuckle, a concerted move seawards; daggers were slid home in their sheaths. Somewhere near her Dominica heard a rough voice say appreciatively: "Ho-ho! The General's back amongst us! I'm for the boat."

They manned the boat. They were disappointed at this tame ending, but it was held to be unhealthy for a man to go against the General's orders. His ungrateful behaviour upon being rescued by his faithful crew rather pleased them. Easy to see Mad Nick was himself still! There was a cheer raised.

The bulk of the soldiers were pelting down the slope of the steep hill now. Sir Nicholas lifted Dominica high in his arms and waded out last of all to the boat.

The crew became aware of the lady, and let another cheer. Many hands were eager to receive her into the boat, foremost amongst them those of Master Hick who had once had his face roundly slapped by her. She stood unsteadily, a hand on one fustian shoulder, the other lost in a great paw.

Sir Nicholas climbed into the boat and waved farewell to Spain. "Give way!" he commanded, and the long oars dipped in the water.

Slowly they drew away, until the lanterns on the shore receded in the distance, and the last sounds from Spain died.

Dominica, crouched in the stern, stole her hand into Beauvallet's. His fingers closed over it; he looked down at her, and she caught the flash of his white teeth. "Safe now, fondling."

She nodded and sighed her content. Behind her, at the tiller, young Dangerfield spoke bashfully. "And a warm welcome for you aboard, señorita, be sure."

She smiled at him, but was too tired to speak. The boat cleaved on through the dark water until the tall sides of the _Venture_ reared up before it, and they heard excited voices, and saw the light of a lantern dangled over the side.

"Safe? Have you brought the General off?" shouted the Master anxiously.

The crew let as hearty a cheer as they could for their somewhat winded condition, and something very like a yell of triumph went up from those aboard the _Venture_.

Dominica was carried up the rope ladder and kissed at the top. "Welcome, my bride!" Beauvallet said in her ear, and set her on her feet.

Men seemed to surge around them, questioning, congratulating. There was some display of thanksgiving, not unmixed with many a "Said I not so?" apparently addressed to those who had doubted Sir Nicholas' ability to dupe all Spain.

Beauvallet shouldered a way for himself and his lady through this excited crowd with a laugh and a jest flung carelessly. Dominica found herself confronting a small neat gentleman whom Sir Nicholas clapped on the shoulder. "Save you, Master Cooper!" he said. "I have work for you, as I promised."

"Sir Nicholas"--the neat man wrung his hand--"I count this escape as not less than one of God's miracles, and a sign to these Spanish Papists--a veritable Sign! What may I do to serve you?"

"You may marry me, Master Parson," said Sir Nicholas Beauvallet.

EPILOGUE

"And so we came off," says Joshua Dimmock, sure of the last word. "You say a miracle? Ho, we do not count such trifles as miraculous in my master's service! Yet I allow it to have been a feat, and do not look upon my own part in it as contemptible. Sir Nicholas owned himself to be somewhat in my debt: a very unusual thing in him, I may say. However, we had some talk together whiles I was trussing his points that next day in his cabin, and 'Joshua, my man,' says he, 'be sure you are a rogue and a wind-bag, but I owe you some thanks for this month's work.' This was very acceptable to me, as you may be sure, not less so than a certain token that went with it. I wear it upon my finger to this day. Ay, a rare stone: it came out of the Indies.

"But I run on. Sir Nicholas having said as much, and more, and maybe puffed me up a very little in mine own esteem--for I took no account of certain holiday terms such as toss-pot and hemp-seed that went with his words, these being no more than the genial way he uses--he did me the honour to inform me that he was to be married that morning.

"A rare morning's work, I warrant you! with the crew grinning and looking slyly--until I spoke with them. It was enough. I was become a man of some account, which was not marvellous.

"There was Master Dangerfield at that bridal, the ship's Master, our surgeon, and myself. Be sure I was bidden, and rightly so, for setting aside some other small matters, I was so near to being my mistress's tire woman in those last few days as makes no matter. A very mettlesome lady, that; I do not deny it. She was married in her riding-dress, for she had none other, and a strange sight it was to see the bride so shabby and the groom so point-de-vice. But I regret that murry taffeta doublet and the new trunk hosen. However, let it go. You may say my lips are sealed as to that lost pack, for there was that other pack I was bound to leave behind at that smuggling port. I warrant you Sir Nicholas made merry work over that: I bore all with a patient countenance.

"I talk more and no more. The marriage over there was some feasting, and the crew in high fettle. We made all speed for Plymouth Sound, but I doubt my master and mistress cared little when they came there.

"At Plymouth I bestirred myself a little, as I know how, bought some slight matters for my lady, which she was pleased to approve, and call me a proper tire woman, and set about the ordering of horses and a coach. My lady stayed aboard till all was ready. She was in no case, says she, to show herself to England. Yet I never saw her own herself put-out by the loss of her wardrobe. She took all as it came, and made merry over it, and I am bound to say I was very much her servant before that voyage was over.

"We pushed on to Alreston in rare style, my lady in the coach, Sir Nicholas riding close beside, and myself a little behind. My lady must needs have the curtains drawn back to look about her on our countryside. So she would have it known, but my reading of the matter is that she wanted to look upon my master. And he upon her, God wot!

"You may be sure our home-coming fetched up a rare gallimaufry at Alreston. There was never a one there had thought ever to see Sir Nicholas again. I believe my lord mourned him already as one dead. But in we swept at the gates, up the avenue to the house, and fetched up there with something of a flourish. It is our way. The good-year! We had the whole household about us in a trice, and I make bold to say that I have never before or since seen my lord in such a taking of joy. For he is not one of those who wear the heart upon the sleeve, as the saying is. He had not near done wringing my master's hand and hugging him about the shoulders when Sir Nicholas puts him off and begs leave to present his lady-wife. A rare thing it was to see my lord's jaw drop! 'What!' quotha. 'You have never brought her off, Nick?'

"Sir Nicholas handed my mistress out of the coach. I warrant you he looked proudly, with that gleam of the eye and that cock of the pointed beard we all know. Well he might throw up his chin! She was a very lovely piece--with all proper respect I say so, be it understood.

"She was colouring up finely and holding tight to my master's hand. She felt herself stared at it, and maybe feared they might look coldly on her. But my lady had the word then. 'Oh, my dear!' cries she out, and took my mistress into her arms and well-nigh wept over her. You ask me why she should do so? I am bound to say I do not understand these women's coils. She bore my mistress off into the house, and that was the last I saw of them until the dinner-hour.

"My lord had me in then to the winter-parlour. It was pretty to see my mistress, pranked out in a gown of my lady's, lisping her broken English to my lord, and ever and anon looking to Sir Nicholas to give her a word she needed.

"My lord was pleased to speak me very comfortable words, which had not often been his wont towards me. I had a fat purse from him at a more convenient time, but at this present he gave me thanks for having brought his brother off safe. You may lay your life my master let out a laugh at this, but my mistress gave me a rare smile, and vowed my lord had reason. When I consider, I must allow he had. But modesty forbids me to dwell on this.

"What more? Little enough. We were off to London not so long after, and I leave you to judge what Sir Francis said when he heard our tale. I speak of Drake, the Admiral: you will have heard of him, maybe. What my master told Master Secretary is a matter not revealed to me. Suffice it that lean Walsingham rubbed his hands over it. Of that I am assured.

"As I remember, the Court lay at Nonesuch, and thither we went. I warrant you the Queen's Grace fairly crowed to see my master back, and, as I heard, thought it a rare jest he should lay down Don Cristobal's Golden Fleece at her feet.

"'Is this the best that Spain can show, rogue?' says she. She hath a merry, boisterous way when she is in the humour.

"'Why, no, madam,' says my master, and brings her up his lady. 'This is the best, madam, and as such I present her to you: your Grace's newest subject.'

"Maybe she was not so well pleased with that. I have heard it said that her Grace never liked to see a personable man wed. Be that as it may, she could not well turn pettish now. My mistress had a hand to kiss, and got a tap on the cheek from her Grace's fan. 'How now, mistress?' says her Grace. 'Do you shackle my bold mad Beauvallet?'

"After which she had very little more to say to my lady, but kept my master beside her a full hour, telling her how it had fared with us in Spain.

"In my opinion, the affair passed off better than might have been hoped for, considering her Grace's high temper.

"We were off soon after to Basing, where you see me now. Ay, we lie snug enough, and if you remark that I am become a personage of some note I am not to deny you. I do not say that my master shows this to the world, for that is not at all his way, but I am bold to tell you that I am very indispensable both to him and to my mistress. Which is not at all to be wondered at, I hold. But we have never found a pair of stocks with gold quirks about the ankles to match with those we lost at Vasconosa, and I cannot but deem the throwing of them to the winds, as it were, a very wanton piece of work. But thus it is always upon Sir Nicholas' affairs."

THE END

[Transcriber's Note: Inconsistent hyphenation left as printed.]

* * * * *

Pedigree of the HOUSE OF BEAUVALLET for those Readers who are Interested in the Fortunes of the Descendants of SIMON THE COLDHEART, 1st Baron Beauvallet

_b._ 1385, out of wedlock. Son of Geoffrey, Earl of Malvallet and of Jehanne, a peasant. Fought at Shrewsbury as Squire to Fulk, Earl of Montlice, and was Knighted 1403. Later acquired Barony of Beauvallet in Bedfordshire. Was present at Battle of Agincourt and accompanied Henry V on his Second Campaign to France. Captured Town and Castle of Belrémy. _m._ 1421, Margaret, Countess of Belrémy, and returned with her later to England. Domestic life somewhat Disturbed by Uncertain Temper of Margaret and Unruly Behavour of his heir, Geoffrey (_q.v._). Was Greatly Addicted in Old Age to the Recounting of his Early Reminiscences, and derived Considerable Enjoyment from the Perusal of the Chronicles of his close friend Alan, Earl of Montlice. Was frequently heard to Deplore the Effeminacy of the Younger Generation. _d._ 1452, of the Stone, which he Suffered with Great Fortitude.

GEOFFREY, 2nd Baron

_b._ 1423. Early exhibited signs of his Mother's Violent Disposition, and Rebelled frequently against the Iron Rule of his Father. Quarrelled with his brother Henry (_q.v._) and Bitterly Resented County of Belrémy being bestowed on him. _m._ 1445, Alys, daughter of a Gentleman of Inferior Lineage, thus enraging his Father. Soon became Permanently Estranged from Simon as the Consequence of Embracing the Yorkist Party. Steered a Perilous and Intricate Course through the Wars of the Roses, and finally Deserted the Yorkist Cause upon the Mysterious Demise of the Nephews of Richard III, which event he felt needed an Explanation which was not Forthcoming. Opened communications with Henry, Earl of Richmond but becoming Exasperated by the Cautious Policy of Henry, he retired from Public Life, and spent the Remainder of his life upon his Estates. _d._ 1486, of the Sweating-Sickness.

HENRY, Count of Belrémy

_b._ 1425. Believed firmly in the infallibility of his Father and was always an Appreciative Auditor of his anecdotes. In consequence of this Display of Filial Piety the lands and title of Belrémy were Bestowed upon him. Made a Prudent Marriage in France and Maintained a Dutiful Correspondence with his Father until the latter's Death in 1452. Disgusted with his Elder Brother's Vacillating Policy during the Wars in England he cut off all Communication with him. The date of his death is uncertain, but he left a Numerous Progeny, and was Universally Lamented.

MARGARET

_b._ 1426. Sided with her Eldest Brother against her Father and Second Brother, and Quarrelled Incessantly with her Mother. _m._, by arrangement between Simon and Alan, Earl of Montlice, John, eldest son of Alan. Several children were the result of this marriage, but John died soon after his Accession to the title, and is Reported to have met his End with a Smile on his Lips.

ALAN

_b._ 1429. Tried to enact the part of Peacemaker between his Father and Eldest Brother. He became a Priest and died (date unknown), in the Obscurity of a Monastery. S.P.

JOHN, 3rd Baron

_b._ 1446. Led a Retired Life throughout the Wars of the Roses and devoted himself to the Study of Astrology. This so Preyed on his mind that he died only three years after his Father, leaving no issue. S.P.

JOAN

_b._ 1447. Was renowned for the beauty of her Person, and the Mildness of her Disposition. _m._ Robert, Lord Pounceby, and by him had several children. But the Tranquillity of her Married Life was Disturbed soon by the Execution of her Husband, 1471, after the Battle of Barnet. She then Dedicated her Life to the Performance of Good Works, and died, lamented by all, 1489.

HENRY, 4th Baron

Called the 'Iron-Handed.' _b._ 1450. Reputed to favour his Grandfather. Early joined Henry, Earl of Richmond, in France, and afterwards accompanied him to England. Took a prominent part in the Battle of Bosworth, but was very Meagrely Rewarded for his services. Te amend this Oversight on the part of Henry, he took as his 2nd Wife, Eleanor, heiress of James, Earl of Malvallet, his 1st Wife having died without issue. _d._ 1515, as the Result of a Fatal Fall in the Jousting Field, to which Sport, even in old age, he was Extremely Partial.

ELIZABETH

_d._ 1487. Became a Nun, in consequence of an Indiscretion.

ISABELLA

_b._ 1488. Displayed signs of Impetuosity in early youth, and during one of her Father's absences from Home. Eloped with a Mere Esquire. Soon found life Insupportable, and was Attacked by Melancholy, and passed into a Decline. S.P.

NICHOLAS, 5th Baron

Called the "Good Baron." _b._ 1490. Led a Life of Great Piety, and married, 1512, Joanna, daughter and co-heiress of Henry, Lord Alreston. Formed various plans for the Advancement of the Family, but these were Unhappily Frustrated. He ended his life on Tower Hill, 1539, as an outcome of a Misunderstanding with Henry VIII.

GEOFFREY

_b._ 1491. Died in Infancy, owing to Overtight Swaddling-Bands.

JOANNA

_b._ 1513. Her Pious Disposition and Wise Judgment early led her Father to Predict that she was Destined to be the Prop of his Declining Years. This Prediction remained Unfulfilled (see 5th Baron), and the lady, upon hearing the Dreadful News of her Father's Death, fell into a Succession of Fits, which Permanently Impaired her Intellect. S.P.

GEOFFREY

_b._ 1514. Shared his Father's Ambitions for the Advancement of the Family, and Cherished Schemes for the Acquisition of an Earldom. These being Frustrated by the Untimely End of his Father, and the Confiscation of the Estates and Title, he shut himself off from the World, and Dedicated the Remainder of his Life to Science. This was not of long Duration, as he shortly afterwards met his End, owing to the Unfortunate Outcome of the Combination of two Hitherto Undiscovered Chemicals. S.P.

MARY

_b._ 1516. Married when still a Child to a Gentleman of Respectable Lineage. Her Calmness of Temper and Philosophical Outlook were the Admiration of her Acquaintances. Upon hearing the News of her Father's End she is Reported to have said: "There goes Joanna's Mission. God's Will be done." Her brother's Fate, as a Martyr to Science, induced her to remark that it might have been Foreseen from the First.

HENRY, 6th Baron

_b._ 1517. Upon the death of his Father he Prudently withdrew to the Continent, but returned on hearing of his Brother's End, and by Careful Policy won back the confiscated Title and Estates. _m._ 1547, Adela, daughter of a Nobleman of Large Fortune, and managed to Survive the Reigns of Edward VI and Mary I. His Foresight led him secretly to Forsake the Old Religion during the latter years of Mary's reign, and to open Tentative Communications with the Protestant Party. Owing to an Unfortunate Remark he fell into Disfavour under Elizabeth, but managed to reinstate himself by the Judicious Tender of a Handsome Present. He afterwards withdrew to his Estates, but his latter years were Disturbed by the Impetuous Conduct of his Younger Son, whose Daring Spirit, and Astonishing Exploits occasioned him Grave Misgivings. He passed away, 1580, in the arms of his heir, Gerard, who was said greatly to resemble him.

NICHOLAS

_b._ 1518. He was Destined for the Church, but displayed so Vehement a Repugnance for the Vocation that the Project was abandoned. He Devoted his Life to the Consumption of Sack, and died of a Surfeit upon the Occasion of his Brother's Marriage. S.P.

GERARD, 7th Baron

_b._ 1546.

ADELA

_b._ 1549.

NICHOLAS

_b._ 1551.

* * * * *

_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_

THESE OLD SHADES SIMON THE COLDHEART THE MASQUERADERS THE GREAT ROXHYTHE THE BLACK MOTH HELEN PASTEL INSTEAD OF THE THORN