oor John, it will be a sad blow to him!"

Ralph had been an eager listener to the conversation between the
yeomen, who were clearly old Whigs and Parliamentarians.

"Pardon me, gentlemen," he interrupted, "do you speak of John Rushton
of Aberleigh?"

"We do. As good a gentleman as lived in Lancashire."

"That's true, but where was he when this disaster befell his
household?"

"God knows; he had fled from judgment and was outlawed."

"And the Crown confiscated his estate, you say, and turned his family
into the road? What was the indictment--some trumpery subterfuge for
treason?"

"Like enough; but the indictment counts for nothing in these days;
it's the verdict that is everything, and that's settled beforehand."

"True, true."

"Did you know my neighbor John?"

"I did; we were comrades years ago."

With these words, Ralph rose from his unfinished breakfast and walked
out of the house.

What mischief of the same sort might even now be brewing at Wythburn
in his absence? Should he return? That would be useless, and worse
than useless. What could he do?

The daring impulse suddenly possessed him to go on to London, secure
audience of the King himself, and plead for amnesty. Yes, that was all
that remained to him to do, and it should be done. His petition might
be spurned; his person might be seized, and he might be handed over to
judgment; but what of that? He was certain to be captured sooner or
later, and this sorry race for liberty and for life would be over at
length.

III. The same day Ralph Ray, still travelling on foot, had approached the
town of Preston. It was Sunday morning, but he perceived that smoke
like a black cloud overhung the houses and crept far up the steeples
and towers. Presently a tumultuous rabble came howling and hooting out
of the town. At the head of them, and apparently pursued by them, was
a man half clad, who turned about at every few yards, and, raising his
arm, predicted woe and desolation to the people he was leaving. He was
a Quaker preacher, and his presence in Preston was the occasion of
this disturbance.

"Oh, Preston," he cried, "as the waters run when the floodgates are
up, so doth the visitation of God's love pass away from thee, oh,
Preston!"

"Get along with thee; thou righteous Crister," said one of the crowd,
lifting a stick above his head. "Get along, or ye'll have Gervas
Bennett aback of ye again."

"I shall never cease to cry aloud against deceit and