ogg'd, sayest thou? By whom and by how many?"

"By one man muffled in his cloak, who follows us like our shadow."

"Then will it never mend my pace along the Couvrefew Street for the best
one man that ever trode it."

"But he has arms," said Conachar.

"And so have we, and hands, and legs, and feet. Why, sure, Conachar, you
are not afraid of one man?"

"Afraid!" answered Conachar, indignant at the insinuation; "you shall
soon know if I am afraid."

"Now you are as far on the other side of the mark, thou foolish boy:
thy temper has no middle course; there is no occasion to make a brawl,
though we do not run. Walk thou before with Catharine, and I will take
thy place. We cannot be exposed to danger so near home as we are."

The glover fell behind accordingly, and certainly observed a person
keep so close to them as, the time and place considered, justified some
suspicion. When they crossed the street, he also crossed it, and when
they advanced or slackened their pace, the stranger's was in proportion
accelerated or diminished. The matter would have been of very little
consequence had Simon Glover been alone; but the beauty of his daughter
might render her the object of some profligate scheme, in a country
where the laws afforded such slight protection to those who had not the
means to defend themselves.

Conachar and his fair charge having arrived on the threshold of their
own apartment, which was opened to them by an old female servant, the
burgher's uneasiness was ended. Determined, however, to ascertain, if
possible, whether there had been any cause for it, he called out to the
man whose motions had occasioned the alarm, and who stood still, though
he seemed to keep out of reach of the light. "Come, step forward, my
friend, and do not play at bo peep; knowest thou not, that they who
walk like phantoms in the dark are apt to encounter the conjuration of a
quarterstaff? Step forward, I say, and show us thy shapes, man."

"Why, so I can, Master Glover," said one of the deepest voices that ever
answered question. "I can show my shapes well enough, only I wish they
could bear the light something better."

"Body of me," exclaimed Simon, "I should know that voice! And is it
thou, in thy bodily person, Harry Gow? Nay, beshrew me if thou passest
this door with dry lips. What, man, curfew has not rung yet, and if it
had, it were no reason why it should part father and son. Come in, man;
Dorothy shall get us something