fore Justice Martin, a godly, upright man, and a scourge to
evil-doers."

"Nay, you shall not do that, neither, till I have heard his case," says
Moll. "'Tis for me to decide whether he has injured me or not, and I'll
suffer none to take my place."

Promising obedience, Simon withdrew before any further restrictions
might be put upon him; but Moll's mind was much disturbed all day by
fear of mischief being done despite her commands, and at night she would
have me take her round the park to see all well. Maybe, she thought that
her own father, stealing hither to see her privily, might fall a victim
to Simon's ambushed hirelings. But we found no one, though Simon had
certainly hidden these fellows somewhere in the thickets.

Whilst we were at table next morning, we heard a great commotion in the
hall; and Mrs. Butterby coming in a mighty pucker, told how the robber
had been taken in the park, and how Simon had brought him to the house
in obedience to her lady's command. "But do, pray, have a care of
yourself, my dear lady," says she; "for this hardy villain hath struck
Mr. Simon in the face and made most desperate resistance; and Heaven
protect us from such wicked outlaws as have the villany to show
themselves in broad daylight!"

Moll, smiling, said she would rather face a lion in the day than a mouse
by night, and so bade the captive to be brought before her.

Then in comes Simon, with a stout band over one eye, followed by two
sturdy fellows holding their prisoner betwixt them. And this was a very
passionate man, as was evidenced by the looks of fury he cast from side
to side upon his captors as they dragged him this way and that to make a
show of their power, but not ill-looking. In his struggles he had lost
his hat, and his threadbare coat and shirt were torn open, laying bare
his neck and showing a very fair white skin and a good beard of light
curling hair. There was nought mean or vile in his face, but rather it
seemed to me a noble countenance, though woefully wasted, so that at a
glance one might perceive he was no born rascal, but likely enough some
ruined man of better sort driven to unlawful ways by his distress. He
was of a fair height, but gaunt beyond everything, and so feeble that
after one effort to free his arms his chin sank upon his breast as if
his forces were all spent.

Seeing this, Moll bade the fellows unbind him, telling them sharply they
might see there was no need of such rigour.

Bein