rest.

'He touches him--he holds him! Ah! will no one tear him away?' screamed
Lady Thistlewood. Nor would Spinks have been slow in obeying her if Sir
Marmaduke had not swung his substantial form to the ground, and
stepping up to the prisoner, rudely clawed on one side by Spinks, and
affectionately grasped on the other side by Berenger, shouted--

'Let go, both!' does he speak English? Peace, dame! If the lad be
bewitched, it is the right way. He looks like the other man. Eh, lad,
what does your friend say for himself?'

'Sir,' said Berenger, interpreting Mericour's words as they were spoken,
'he has been robbed and misused at sea by Montgomery's pirate crews. He
fled from court for the religion's sake; he met her--my wife' (the voice
was scarcely intelligible, so tremulously was it spoken), 'in hiding
among the Huguenots--he brings a letter and a token from her to my
mother.'

'Ha! And you know him? You avouch him to be what he represents himself?'

'I knew him at court. I know him well. Father, make these fellows cease
their insults! I have heard nothing yet. See here!' holding out what
Mericour had put into his hand; 'this you cannot doubt, mother.'

'Parted the pearls! Ah, the little minx!' cried the lady, as she
recognized the jewels.

'I thought he had been robbed?' added Sir Marmaduke.

'The gentleman doubts?' said Mericour, catching some of the words. 'He
should know that what is confided in a French gentleman is only taken
from him with his life. Much did I lose; but the pearl I kept hidden in
my mouth.'

Therewith he produced the letter. Lady Thistlewood pronounced that no
power on earth should induce her to open it, and drew off herself and
her little girls to a safe distance from the secret poison she fancied
it contained; while Sir Marmaduke was rating the constables for taking
advantage of his absence to interpret the Queen's Vagrant Act in their
own violent fashion; ending, however, by sending them round to the
buttery-hatch to drink the young Lord's health. For the messeger, the
good knight heartily grasped his hand, welcoming him and thanking him
for having 'brought comfort to you poor lad's heart.'

But there Sir Marmaduke paused, doubting whether the letter had indeed
brought comfort; for Berenger, who had seized on it, when it was refused
by his mother, was sitting under the tree--turning away indeed, but not
able to conceal that his tears were gushing down like rain. The anxious
exclamat