led to
express his dread of the consequences should James come to the throne.

Stephen Battiscombe was the second son of Mr Battiscombe of Langton
Park, who had several other sons and daughters. He had been an officer
in General Monk's army, and had consequently retained his paternal
estates, although he had been compelled to part with some of his broad
acres in order to secure the remainder. Stephen had been for the last
year or two a constant visitor at Eversden, he and Roger having formed a
friendship; it may be that he came oftener than he otherwise might have
done for the sake of enjoying the society of Mistress Alice, whom he
greatly admired.

The early dinner being concluded, and the viands removed, the ladies
retired to pursue their usual avocations, while the Colonel, with Mr
Willoughby and Master Holden, sat still at the table, not so much to
indulge in potations, though a flagon of wine and glasses stood before
them, as to discuss certain parochial questions in which they were
interested.

The first matter to be discussed had scarcely been broached when the
Colonel, whose quick ears had detected the sound of horses' hoofs in the
court-yard, exclaimed, "Hark! here come visitors. I pray you, Master
Holden, go and see who they are, and, should they have travelled far,
and require food, bid the cook make ready a sufficiency; whether they be
old friends or strangers, we must not show a want of hospitality if they
come expecting to find it at Eversden." The curate, ever accustomed to
obey his patron's directions, rose and hastened to the door. Not long
after he had gone, Tobias Platt, the Colonel's serving-man, who
performed the duties of butler, valet, and general factotum, entered the
hall.

"Master Thomas Handscombe, cloth-merchant of London, who has just come
down from thence, craves to see Mr Roger Willoughby," he said.

"Do you know him?" asked the Colonel of his brother-in-law.

"Yes, an old and worthy friend," answered Mr Willoughby, rising from
his seat.

"Let him be admitted, and assure him of a welcome," said the Colonel,
turning to Tobias Platt, who hurried out of the hall, while Mr
Willoughby followed him somewhat more leisurely. He found his old
friend, a middle-aged man of grave exterior, in travel-stained cloak,
broad-brimmed beaver, just dismounting from a strongly-built nag, to
whose saddle were attached a pair of huge holsters in front, and a
valise behind. He was accompanied by t