he rode his blue
ribbon and garter and all his princely ornaments, lest pursuers should
know him by these insignia of royalty. On for twelve hours Charles and
his companions galloped at racing speed, onward through the whole night
following that day of blood and woe; and at break of day on September 4
they reached Whiteladies, a friendly house of refuge in Severn's fertile
valley.

The story of the after-adventures of the fugitive prince is so replete
with hair-breadth escapes, disguises, refreshing instances of fidelity,
and startling incidents, as to render it one of the most romantic tales
to be found in English history. A thousand pounds were set upon his
head, yet none, peasant or peer, proved false to him. He was sheltered
alike in cottage and hall; more than a score of people knew of his
route, yet not a word of betrayal was spoken, not a thought of betrayal
was entertained; and the agents of the Protector vainly scoured the
country in all directions for the princely fugitive, who found himself
surrounded by a loyalty worthy a better man, and was at last enabled to
leave the country in Cromwell's despite.

Let us follow the fugitive prince in his flight. Reaching Whiteladies,
he found a loyal friend in its proprietor. No sooner was it known in the
mansion that the field of Worcester had been lost, and that the flying
prince had sought shelter within its walls, than all was haste and
excitement.

"You must not remain here," declared Mr. Gifford, one of his companions.
"The house is too open. The pursuers will be here within the hour.
Measures for your safety must be taken at once."

"The first of which is disguise," said Charles.

His long hair was immediately cut off, his face and hands stained a dark
hue, and the coarse and threadbare clothing of a peasant provided to
take the place of his rich attire. Thus dressed and disguised, the royal
fugitive looked like anything but a king.

"But your features will betray you," said the cautious Gifford. "Many of
these men know your face. You must seek a safer place of refuge."

Hurried movements followed. The few friends who had accompanied Charles
took to the road again, knowing that their presence would endanger him,
and hoping that their flight might lead the bloodhounds of pursuit
astray. They gone, the loyal master of Whiteladies sent for certain of
his employees whom he could trust. These were six brothers named
Penderell, laborers and woodmen in his servic