ance that would make it
worth while to have come on this journey: the chance that he could
overtake Ralph before the coach and its passengers could overtake him.

To do this he must walk the whole night through, let it rain or snow
or freeze.

He could and he would do it!

Bravely, Robbie! A greater issue than you know of hangs on your
journey. On! on! on!

CHAPTER XXXII. WHAT THE SNOW GAVE UP.

The agitation of the landlord of the inn at Askham, who was an old
Parliamentarian, on discovering the captain under whom he had served
in the person of Ralph Ray, threatened of itself to betray him. With
infinite perturbation he came and went, and set before Ralph and Sim
such plain fare as his house could furnish after the more luxurious
appetites of the Royalist visitors had been satisfied.

The room into which the travellers had been smuggled was a wing of the
old house, open to the whitewashed rafters, and with the customary
broad hearth. Armor hung about the walls--a sword here, a cutlass
there, and over the rannel-tree a coat of chain steel. It was clearly
the living-room of the landlord's family, and was jealously guarded
from the more public part of the inn. But when the door was open into
the passage that communicated with the rest of the house, the loud
voices of the Royalists could be heard in laughter or dispute.

When the family vacated this room for the convenience of Ralph and
Sim, they left behind at the fireside, sitting on a stool, a little
boy of three or four, who was clearly the son of the landlord. Ralph
sat down, and took the little fellow between his knees. The child had
big blue eyes and thin curls of yellow hair. The baby lips answered to
his smile, and the baby tongue prattled in his ear with the easy
familiarity which children extend only to those natures that hold the
talisman of child-love.

"And what is _your_ name, my little man?" said Ralph.

"Darling," answered the child, looking up frankly into Ralph's face.

"Good. And anything else?"

"Ees, Villie."

"Do they not say you are like your mother, Willie?" said Ralph,
brushing the fair curls from the boy's forehead. "Me mammy's darling,"
said the little one, with innocent eyes and a pretty curve of the
little mouth.

"Surely. And what will you be when you grow up, my sunny boy?"

"A man."

"Ah! and a wit, eh? But what will you be at your work--a farmer?"

"Me be a soldier." The little face grew bright at the prospect.