n instant; then, turning her horse
once more, she ambled up the slope to rejoin Diana.

CHAPTER XIII. "PRO RELIGIONE ET LIBERTATE"

The evening was far advanced when Mr. Wilding and his two companions
descended to Uplyme Common from the heights whence as they rode they had
commanded a clear view of the fair valley of the Axe, lying now under a
thin opalescent veil of evening mist.

They had paused at Ilminster for fresh horses, and there Wilding had
paid a visit to one of his agents from whom he had procured a hundred
guineas. Thence they had come south at a sharp pace, and with little
said. Wilding was moody and thoughtful, filled with chagrin at this
unconscionable rashness of the man upon whom all his hopes were centred.
As they cantered briskly across Uplyme Common in the twilight they
passed several bodies of countrymen, all heading for the town, and one
group sent up a shout of "God save the Protestant Duke!" as they rode
past him.

"Amen to that," muttered Mr. Wilding grimly, "for I am afraid that no
man can."

In the narrow lane by Hay Farm a horseman, going in the opposite
direction, passed them at the gallop; but they had met several such
since leaving Ilminster, for indeed the news was spreading fast, and the
whole countryside was alive with messengers, some on foot and some on
horseback, but all hurrying as if their lives depended on their haste.

They made their way to the Market-Place where Monmouth's
declaration--that remarkable manifesto from the pen of Ferguson--had
been read some hours before. Thence, having ascertained where His Grace
was lodged, they made their way to the George Inn.

In Coombe Street they found the crowd so dense that they could but with
difficulty open out a way for their horses through the human press.
Not a window but was open, and thronged with sight-seers--mostly women,
indeed, for the men were in the press below. On every hand resounded the
cries of "A Monmouth! A Monmouth! The Protestant Religion! Religion and
Liberty," which latter were the words inscribed on the standard Monmouth
had set up that evening on the Church Cliffs.

In truth, Wilding was amazed at what he saw, and said as much to
Trenchard. So pessimistic had been his outlook that he had almost
expected to find the rebellion snuffed out by the time they reached
Lyme-of-the-King. What had the authorities been about that they had
permitted Monmouth to come ashore, or had Vallancey's information been