Classic Audiobook Collection - Beau Brocade by Baroness E. Orczy ~ Full Audiobook [romance]

Starting point is 00:00:00 Chapter 1 of Bow Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey Chapter 1 By Act of Parliament The gaffers stood round and shook their heads When the corporal had finished reading the royal proclamation One or two of them sighed in a desultory fashion Others murmured casually, Lordy, Lordy, to think on it,

Starting point is 00:00:29 Deary me! The young ones neither sighed nor murmured. They looked at one another furtively, then glanced away again, as if afraid to read each other's thoughts, and in a shame-faced manner wiped their moist hands against their rough cord breaches. There were no women present, fortunately. There had been heavy rains on the more these last three days, and what roads there were. There were no women present, fortunately. There had been heavy rains on the more these last three days, and what roads there were. were had become, well nigh impassable. Only a few men, some half-dozen perhaps, out of the lonely homesteads from down Brassington Way, had tramped in the wake of the little squad of soldiers in order to hear this act of Parliament read at the crossroads, and to see the document duly pinned to the old Gallows tree. Fortunately, the rain had ceased, Momentarily, only a cool, brisk. Norwester came blustering across the heath, making the older men shiver beneath their thin, well-worn smocks. North and south, east and west, brassing more stretched its mournful

Starting point is 00:01:48 lengths to the distant framework of the peak far away, with mile upon mile of gray-green gorse and golden bracken and long shoots of purple-stemmed bramble, and here and there patches of vivid mauve, where the heather was just bursting into bloom, or anon a clump of dark furs with ruddy trunks and gaunt arms stretched menacingly over the sparse young life below. And here at the crossroads the heath seemed more desolate than ever, despite that one cottage, with the blacksmith's shed beyond it, the roads themselves, the one to Aldwark, the other from Worksworth, the third little more than a morass, a shortcut to strutton, all bore mute testimony to the remoteness, the aloofness of this forgotten corner of 18th century England. Then there was the old gallows

Starting point is 00:02:54 whereon many a footpad or sheepstealer had paid full penalty for his crimes. True John Stitch, the blacksmith now used it as a signpost for his trade. A monster horseshoe hung there where once the bones of Dick Caldwell, the highwayman had whitened in the bleak air of the moor. Still at moments like these when no one spoke, the wind seemed to bring an echo of ghostly sighs and laughter, for Dick had breathed his last, with a coarse jest on his lips, and the ears of the timid seemed to catch the eerie sound of his horses' hooves, plowing the ruddy, shallow soil of the heath. For the moment, however,

Starting point is 00:03:47 the crossroads presented a scene of quite unusual animation. The corpse, and his squad looked resplendent in their scarlet tunics and white buckskins, and Mr. Inch, the beetle from Brassington, was also there in his gold-laced coat, bob-tailed wig, and three-cornered hat. He had lent the dignity of his presence to this solemn occasion, and in high-top boots, bell in hand, had tramped five miles with the soldiers. so that he might shout a stentorian, Oyes, oh yes, whenever they passed one of the few cottages along the road. But no one spoke.

Starting point is 00:04:35 The corporal handed the royal proclamation to one of the soldiers. He too seemed nervous and ill at ease. The Northwestern, with singular want of respect for King and Parliament, commenced a vigorous attack upon the great. document, pulling at it in wanton frolic, almost tearing it out of the hands of the young soldier, who did his best to fix it against the shaft of the old gallows. The white parchment looked uncanny and ghost-like fluttering in the wind. No doubt the Norwester would soon tear it to rags. Lordy, lordy, to think on it. There it was fixed up at least.

Starting point is 00:05:23 last, up so that any chance traveler who could might read. But those who were now assembled there, shepherds, most of them on the more, viewed the written characters with awe and misgiving. They had had Mr. Inch's assurance that it was all writ there that the king himself had put his named to it, and the young corporal, who had read it out, had received the document from his own superior officer, who in his turn had had it at the hands of his grace, the Duke of Cumberland himself. It having come to the knowledge of His Majesty's Parliament that certain subjects of the king have lately raised the standard of rebellion, setting up the pretender, charge of the Edward Stewart, above the king's most lawful majesty, it is hereby enacted that these persons are

Starting point is 00:06:25 guilty of high treason, and by the laws of the kingdom are therefore condemned to death. It is further enacted that it is unlawful for any loyal subject of the king to shelter or harbor, clothe or feed any such persons who are vile traitors and rebels to their king and country, and that any subject of His Majesty who kills such a traitor or rebel doth thereby commit an act of justice and loyalty for which he may be rewarded by the sum of twenty guineas. It was this last paragraph that made the gaffers shake their heads. and say, Lordy, Lordy, to think on it, to think on it. For it seemed but yesterday that the old moor, I and the hamlets and villages of Derbyshire were ringing with the wild shouts of Prince Charlie's

Starting point is 00:07:30 Highland Brigade. But yesterday that his handsome face, his green bonnet laced with gold, His highland plaid and rich accoutrements had seemed to proclaim victory to the Stuart cause from one end of the country to the other. To be sure that glorious, mad, merry time had not lasted very long. All the wiseacres had foretold disaster when the prince's standard broke, just as it was taken into my Lord Exeter's house in Full Street. The shaft snapped clean in half. What could that portend but humiliation and defeat? The retreat from Derby was still fresh in everyone's memory, and there were those from Worksworth who remembered the rearguard of Prince Charlie's army, the hussars with their half-starved horses, and bedraggled finery, who had swept down on the villages and homesteads. roundabout Ashbourne, and had pillaged and plundered to their hearts content. But then those were the fortunes of war, fighting, rushing, running, plundering, wild husses, mad cavalcades, noise, bustle, excitement, joy of victory, and sorrow of defeat. But this, this proclamation,

Starting point is 00:09:01 which the corporal had brought all the way from Derby, and which had been signed by King George himself, this meant silence, hushed footsteps, a hidden figure perhaps, pallid and gaunt, hiding behind the boulders, or amidst the gorse on the moor, or perishing mayhap at night, lost in the bogland upstretten way, whilst Judas-like treads crept stealthfully on the track. It meant treachery, too, the price of blood, a fellow creature's life, to be sold for twenty guineas. No wonder the gaffers could think of nothing to say. No wonder the young men looked at one another, shame-faced, and in fear. Who knows any derbyshire lad now might become a human bloodhound, a tracker of his fellow creatures, a hunter of men.

Starting point is 00:10:01 There were twenty guineas to be earned, and out there on the heath in the hut of the shepherd or the forge of the smith, many a pale, wan face had been seen of late, which it was terrible to think on, for even out here on brassing more, there existed some knowledge of Tyburn Gate and of Tower Hill, At last the groups began to break up. The corporal's work was done. His Majesty's proclamation would flutter there in the cool September wind for a while. Then presently, the crows would

Starting point is 00:10:41 pack at it, the rain would dash it down, the last bit of dirty rag would be torn away by an October gale. But in the meanwhile, the few inhabitants of Bresington and those of Aldwar, would know that they might deny a starving fellow-creature bread and shelter, I, and shoot him too, like a wild beast in a ditch, and have twenty guineas reward to boot. I've seen naught of John Stitch, Master Inch, said the corporal at last, be he from home, and he turned to where, just in the fork of the road, the thatched cottage, with a glimpse of the shed beyond it, stood solitary, and still. Nay, I have not observed that fact, Master Corporal, replied Master Inch, clearing his throat for some of those fine words which had gained

Starting point is 00:11:41 for him widespread admiration for miles around. I had not observed that John Stitch was from home, though in verity it behooves me to say that I do not hear the same. of Master Stitch's hammer upon his anvil. Then I'll go across at once, said the corporal. Forward, my men, John Stitch might have saved me the trouble, he added, groping in his wallet for another copy of His Majesty's proclamation. Nay, Master Corporal, do not give yourself the futile trouble of traversing the muddy road, said Mr. Inch, sententiously. Stitch is a loyal subject of King George, and by my faith he would not harborgate a rebel. Take my word for it. Although, mind you, Mr. Corporal, I have oft suspicionated.

Starting point is 00:12:41 Mr. Inch, the beetle, looked cautiously round. All the pompousness of his manner had vanished in a trice. His broad face beneath the bob-tailed wig and three-cornered hat looked like a rosy receptacle of mysterious information as he laid his fat hand on the corporal's sleeve. The straggling group of yokels were fast disappearing down the muddy tracks. Some were returning to Brassington. Others were tramping Aldwark way. One wizened solitary figure was slowly toiling up the road, little more than a quagmire that led northwards across the Heath towards Stratton Hall. The soldiers stood at attention, some 15 yards away, mute and disinterested. From the shed beyond the cottage, there suddenly came the sound of the blacksmith's

Starting point is 00:13:41 hammer upon his anvil. Mr. Inch felt secure from observation. I have oft suspicionated John Stitch, the smith of befriending the footpads and highwaymen that hauled. this God-forsaken more, he said, with an air of excited importance, rolling his beady eyes. Nay, laughed the corporal, good-humoredly, as he shook off Master Inche's fat hand. You'd best not whisper this confidence to John Stitch himself. As I live, he would crack your skull for you, Master Beetle. I, be it ever so full of dictionary words. John Stitch is an honest man, I tell you, he added with a pleasant oath, the most honest

Starting point is 00:14:32 this side of the county, and don't you forget it. But Mr. Inch did not approve of the young soldier's tone of familiarity. He drew up his five feet of broad stature to their full height. Nay, but I designated no harm, he said, with offended dignity, John's Stitch is a worthy fellow, and I spoke of no ordinary footpads. My mind, he added, dwelling upon that mysterious possession with conscious pride. My mind, I may say, was dominating on bow brocade. Bo brocade. And the corporal laughed with obvious incredulity, which further nettled Mr. Inch, the beetle. I, bow brocade, he said, the malicious pernicious damned rascal who gives us that representate the majesty of the law a mighty deal of trouble indeed sneered the corporal i dare swear that down at derby retorted mr inch spitefully you have not even heard of that personage oh we know well enough that brassing more harbors more miscreants than any corner

Starting point is 00:15:54 of the county, left the young soldier, but me thought Bo Brickade only existed in the imagination of your half-witted yokels about here. There you are in grave error, Master Corporal, remarked the Beatle with dignity. Bo Browcade, permit me to observe, does exist in the flesh. T'was only last night, Sir Humphrey Chaloner, coach, was stopped not three months, miles from Hardington, and his honor robbed of fifty guineas by that pernicious highwayman. Then you must lay this bow brocade by the heels, Master Inch. Aye, that's easily said, lay him by the heels forsooth, and who's going to do that, pray? Nay, that's your affair.

Starting point is 00:16:47 You don't expect his grace, the Duke of Cumberland, to lend you a portion of his army, do you? His grace might do worse, Beau Brocade is a dangerous rascal to the quality. Only to the quality? Aye, he'll not touch a poor man, tis only the rich he is after, and uses but little of his ill-gotten gain on himself. How so, asked the corporal, eagerly, for in spite of the excitement of camp life around about Derby,

Starting point is 00:17:22 the fame of the daring highwaymen had air now tickled the fancy of the young soldiers of the Duke of Cumberland's army. Why, I told you, Sir Humphrey Challoner, was robbed on the heath last night, robbed of 50 guineas, eh? said Master Inch, whispering in eager confidence, well, this morning, when Squire West arrived at the courthouse, he found 50 guineas in the poor body. Well, well, that's not the first time, nor yet the second, that such a matter has occurred. The dults round about here, the lads from Brassington or Aldwark, or even from Worksworth, would never willingly lay a hand on bow brocade. The rascal knows it well enough, and carries on his shameful trade with impunity. Odds fish, but me seems the trade is not so shameful after all. What is the fellow like? Nay, no one has ever seen his face,

Starting point is 00:18:30 though his figure on the more is familiar to many. He is always dressed in the latest fashion, hence the villagers have called him bow brocade. Some say he is a royal prince in disguise. He always wears a mask. Some say he is the pretender, Charles Stewart himself. Others declare his face is pitted with smallpox, others that he has the face of a pig and the ears of a mule, that he is covered with hairs like a spaniel, or has a blue skin like an ape, but no one knows, and with half the villages on the heath to aid and abet him, he is not like to be laid by the heels. A fine story, Master Inch, laughed the corporal. and is there no reward for the capture of your pig-faced hairy, blue-skinned royal prince disguised as a common highwayman?

Starting point is 00:19:34 I, a reward of a hundred guineas, said Mr. Inch, in a whisper that was hardly audible above the murmur of the wind, a hundred guineas for the capture of bow brocade. The corporal gave a long, significant whistle, and no one bold enough to attempt the capture, he said derisively. Mr. Inch shook his head sadly. No one could do it single-handed. The rascal is cunning as well as bold. But at this point even Mr. Inch's voluble tongue was suddenly and summarily silenced. The words died in his throat.

Starting point is 00:20:17 His bell, the badge of his important public office, fell with a mighty clatter on the ground. A laugh, a long, loud, joyous, mirthful laugh rang clear as a silver gong from across the lonely more. Such a laugh as would make anyone's heart glad to hear. The laugh of a free man, of a man who is whole-hearted, of a man who has never ceased to be a boy. And pompous, Mr. Inch, slowly turned on his heel, as did also the young corporal, and both gazed out upon the heath. The patient little squad of soldiers, too, all fixed their eyes upon one spot, just beyond John Stitch's forge and cottage, not 50 yards away. There clearly outlined against the cloud-laden sky was the graceful figure of a horse and rider,

Starting point is 00:21:20 the horse, a sleek chestnut thoroughbred, which filled all the soldier's hearts with envy and covetousness. The rider, a youthful, upright figure whose every movement betokened strength of limb and elasticity of muscle, the very pose a model of ease and grace, shoulders broad, the head with a black mask worn over the face was carried high and erect. In truth, it was a goodly picture to look upon with that massive bank of white clouds and the little patches of vivid blue as a rich shimmering dome above it, the gold-tipped bracken, the purple heather all around, and far away as a mist-covered background, the green-clad hills and massive tours of Derbyshire. So good a picture was it that the tardy September

Starting point is 00:22:19 sun peeped through the clouds and had a look at that fine specimen of 18th century English manhood, then paused a while, perchance to hear again that mirthful, happy laugh. Then came a gust of wind, the sun retreated, the soldiers gasped, and lovel. before Mr. Inch or Mr. Corporal had realized that the picture was made of flesh and blood, horse and rider had disappeared, there far out across the heath, beyond the gorse and bramble and the budding hither, with not a handful of dust to mark the way they went. Only once from far, very far, almost from fairyland, there came like the echo of the echo of of a silver bell, the sound of that mad, merry laugh.

Starting point is 00:23:16 Bo brocade as I live, murmured Mr. Inch, under his breath. End of Chapter 1. Chapter 2 of Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Librevox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. The Forge of John Stitch. John Stitch, too, had heard that laugh. For a moment, he paused in his work, straightened his broad back, and linked his heavy hammer upon the anvil, whilst a pleasant smile lit up his bronzed and rugged countenance. There goes the captain, he said, I wonder now what's tickling him. Ah, he added with a short sigh, the soldiers maybe, he doesn't like. He doesn't like. like soldiers much, doesn't the captain? He sighed again and looked across to where on a rough

Starting point is 00:24:23 wooden bench sat a young man with head resting on his hand, his blue eyes staring moodily before him. The dress this young man wore was a counterpart of that in which John himself was arrayed, rough worsted stockings, thick flannel shirt, with sleeves well to. tucked up over fine muscular arms, and a large, greasy, well-worn leather apron, denoting the blacksmith's trade. But though the hands and face were covered with grime, a more than casual observer would soon have noticed that those same hands were slender and shapely, the fingers long, the nails neatly trimmed, whilst the face, anxious and careworn, though it was, had in it a look of habitual command, of pride not yet crushed out of

Starting point is 00:25:23 Ken. John Stitch gazed at him for a while, whilst a look of pity and anxiety saddened his honest face. The Smith was a man of few words. He said nothing then, and presently the sound of his hammer upon the anvil, once more filled the forge with its pleasant echo. But though John's tongue was slow, his ear was quick, and in one moment he had perceived the dull thud made by the corporal's squad. As having parted from Mr. Inch at the crossroads, the soldiers plowed their way through the mud round the cottage and towards the forge. Hissed, said John, in a rapid whisper, pointing to the fire, the bellows quick. The young man, too, had started in obvious alarm. His ear, the ear of a fugitive, trained to every sound that betokened danger, was as alert as that of the Smith. With a sudden effort,

Starting point is 00:26:32 he pulled himself together and quickly seized the heavy bellows with a will. He forced his eyes to glance carelessly at the door and his lips to whistle a lively country tune. The corporal paused a moment at the entrance, taking a quick survey of the interior of the forge. His men at attention behind him. In the king's name, he said loudly as he unfolded the proclamation. As he unfolded the proclamation of his majesty's parliament. His orders were to read it in every hamlet and every homestead in the district. John Stitch, the blacksmith, was an important personage all around brassing more, and he had not heard it read from beneath the old gallows at the crossroads just now. Well, Corporal, said the worthy Smith quietly, as he put down his hammer out of,

Starting point is 00:27:32 respect for the king's name. Well, and what does his majesty, King George II, desire with John Stitch, the blacksmith, A? Not with you alone, John Stitch, replied the corporal. This is an act of parliament and concerns all loyal subjects of the king. Who be yon lad, he asked, carelessly nodding towards the young man at the bellows. My nephew Jim, out of Nottingham, replied John Stitch, quietly, my sister Hannah's child, you recollect her, corporal. She was in service with my Lord Exeter up at Derby. Oh, I, Mistress Hannah Stitch, to be sure, I didn't know she had such a fine lad of her own, commented the corporal, as the young man straightened his tall figure and looked him fearlessly in the face. Lads grow up,

Starting point is 00:28:32 enough, don't they, Corporal? Laft honest Stitch, pleasantly. But come, let's hear His Majesty's proclamation, since you've got to read it. But you see, I'm very busy, and, nay, tis my duty, John Stitch, in every homestead in Derbyshire, tis to be read, so says this act of Parliament. You might have saved this trouble had you come down to the crossroads just now. was busy, remarked John Stitch, dryly, and the corporal began to read. It having come to the knowledge of His Majesty's Parliament that certain subjects of the King have lately raised the standard of rebellion, setting up the pretender Charles Edward Stewart above the King's most lawful majesty, it is hereby enacted that these persons are guilty of high treason, and by the laws of

Starting point is 00:29:32 the kingdom are therefore condemned to death. It is further enacted that it is unlawful for any loyal subject of the king to shelter or harbor, clothe or feed any such persons who are vile traitors and rebels to their king and country, and that any subject of his majesty who kills such a traitor or rebel doth thereby commit an act of justice and loyal. for which he may be rewarded by the sum of twenty guineas. There was a pause when the corporal had finished reading. John Stitch was leaning upon his hammer. The young man once more busied himself with the bellows. Outside the clearing shower of September rain began pattering upon the thatched roof of the forge. Well, said John Stitch at last, as the corporal put the

Starting point is 00:30:32 heavy parchment away in his wallet. Well, and are you going to tell us who are those persons, corporal, whom our village lads are told to murder by act of parliament? How shall we know a rebel and shoot him when we see one? There were 40 persons down on the list a few weeks ago, persons who were known to be in hiding in Derbyshire, said the young soldier, but when Well, what's your butt, corporal? There were forty persons whom t'was lawful to murder a few weeks ago. What of them? They have been caught and hanged most of them, replied the soldier, quietly. Jim, lad, mind that fire, commented John Stitch, turning to his nephew out of Nottingham, for the latter was staring with glowing eyes and quivering lips at the corporal, who, not noticing

Starting point is 00:31:32 him, continued carelessly. There was Lord Lovett, now, you must have heard of him, John Stitch. He was beheaded a few days ago, and so was Lord Kilmarnock. They were lords, you see, and had a headsman all to themselves on Tower Hill. That's up in London. Some lesser folk have been hanged, and now there are only three rebels at large, and there are 20 guineas waiting, for anyone who will bring the head of one of them to the nearest magistrate. The Smith grunted, well, and who are they? He asked roughly. Sir Andrew MacDonald, up from Tweedside. Then, Squire Fairfield, you'd mind him, John Stitch, over Staffordshire way. Aye, aye, I mind him well enough. His mother was a papist, and he clung to the Stuart cause.

Starting point is 00:32:30 young man, too, and hiding for his life. Well, and who else? The young Earl of Stratton. What? Him from Stratton Hall, said John Stitch, in open astonishment. Jim, lad, he added sternly, thou art a clumsy fool. The young man had started involuntarily, at sound of the last name mentioned by the corporal, and the bellows which he had tried to wield, fell with a clatter on the floor. Be guy, but an act of parliament can make thee a lawful assassin, it seems, added honest John, with a laugh. But let me perish if it can make thee a good smith.

Starting point is 00:33:15 What think you, Master Corporal? Od's life. The lad is too soft-hearted, mayhap. Our derby sure lads haven't much sense in their heads, have they? Well, you mind. the same corporal, Derbyshire-born and Derbyshire bred, eh? Strong in the arm and weak in the head, laughed the soldier, concluding the apt quotation. That's just it. Odds, buds, they want some sense. What's a rebel or a traitor, but vermin,

Starting point is 00:33:49 eh? And don't we kill vermin all of us, and don't call it murder either? What? He laughed pleasantly and carelessly, and tapped the side of his wallet, where rested his majesty's proclamation. He was a young soldier, nothing more, attentive to duty, ready to obey, neither willing nor allowed to reason for himself. He had been taught that rebels and traitors were vermin. E gad, vermin they were, and as such must be got rid of, for the sake of the rest of the kingdom and the safety of his majesty the king. John Stitch made no comment on the corporal's profession of faith. We'll talk about all that some other time, corporal, he said at last, but I am busy now, you see. No offense, friend Stitch, odds life, duty you know, John, duty,

Starting point is 00:34:49 A, his majesty's orders, and I had them from the captain, who had them from the duty, of Cumberland himself, so you mind the act, friend. I, I mind it well enough. Everyone knows you to be a loyal subject of King George, added the corporal in conciliatory tones, for John was a power in the district, and I'm sure your nephew is the same, but duty is duty, and no offense meant. That's right enough, corporal, said John Stitch impatiently. so good-morrow to you john stitch good-morrow the corporal nodded to the young man then turned on his heel and presently his voice was heard ringing out the word of command attention right turn quick march john stitch and the young man watched the half-dozen red-coated figures as they turned to skirt the cottage the dull thud of their feet quickly dying away as they wound their way slowly up the muddy path which leads across the heath to aldwark village end of chapter two

Starting point is 00:36:06 chapter three of bow brocade by baroness emma orxy this libravox recording is in the public domain recording by diongine's sutlic city utah the fugitive inside the forge all was still while Else the last of the muffled sounds died away in the distance. John Stitch had not resumed work. It was his turn now to stare moodily before him. The young man had thrown the bellows aside and was pacing the rough earthen floor of the forge like some caged animal. Tracked, he murmured at last between clenched teeth, tracked like some wild beast.

Starting point is 00:37:00 perhaps shot anon like a dangerous cur behind a hedge. He sighed a long and bitter sigh, full of sorrow, anxiety, disappointment. It had come to this then, his name among the others, the traitors, the rebels, and he an innocent man. Nay, my lord, said the Smith quietly, not while John's stitch owns a roof that can shut. shelter you. The young man paused in his feverish walk. A look of gentleness and gratitude softened the careworn expression on his face. With a boyish gesture, he threw back the fair hair which fell in curly profusion over his forehead. And with a frank and winning grace, he sought and grasped the worthy Smith's rough brown hand. Honest Stitch, he said at least. He said at

Starting point is 00:38:00 last, whilst his voice shook a little as he spoke, and to think that I cannot even reward your devotion. Nay, my lord, retorted John Stitch, drawing up his burly figure to its full height. Don't talk of reward. I would gladly give my life for you and your family. And this was no idle talk. John Stitch meant every word he said. Honest, kind, simple-hearted John. He loved those to whom he owed everything, loved them with all the devotion of his strong, faithful nature. The late Lord Stratton had brought him up, cared for him, given him a trade, and set him up in the cottage and forge at the crossroads, and honest stitch felt that as everything that was good in life had come from my lord and his family, so everything he could give should be theirs in return. Ah, I fear me, sighed the young man,

Starting point is 00:39:10 that it is your life you risk now by sheltering me. Yet it was all such a horrible mistake. Philip James Gascoigne, 11th Earl of Stratton, was at this time not 21 years of age. There is that fine portrait of him at Brassing Hall painted by Hogarth just before this time. The artist has well caught the proud features, the fine blue eyes, the boyish curly head, which have been the characteristics of the Gascoins for many generations, he has also succeeded in indicating the sensitiveness of the mouth, that somewhat feminine turn of the lips, that all two rounded curve of the chin and jaw, which perhaps robs the handsome face of its virile manliness.

Starting point is 00:40:08 There certainly is a look of indecision, of weakness of will, about the lower part of the face, but it is so frank, so young, so insouciant, that it wins all hearts, even if it does not captivate the judgment. Of course, when he was very young, his sympathies went out to the Stewart cause. Had not the Gascoins suffered and died for Charles Stewart, but a hundred years ago, why the change? Why this allegiance to an alien dynasty to a king who spoke the language of his subjects with a foreign accent. His father, the late Lord Stratton, a contented, unargumentative British nobleman of the 18th century, had not thought it worth his while to explain to the growing lad the religious and political questions involved

Starting point is 00:41:08 in the upholding of this foreign dynasty. Perhaps he did not understand them altogether. himself. The family motto is poor LaRoy. So the Gascoins fought for a steward when he was king and against him when he was a pretender. And old Lord Streaton expected his children to reverence the family motto and to have no opinions of their own. And yet to the hearts of many, the Stuart cause made a strong appeal. From Scotland came the fame. of the Bonnie Prince, who won all hearts wherever he went. Philip was young. His father's discipline was irksome. He had some friends among the Highland Lords, and while his father lived, there had as yet been no occasion in the English Midlands to do anything very daring for the

Starting point is 00:42:07 Stuart Pretender. When the Earl of Stratton died, Philip, a mere boy then, succeeded to tie and estates. In the first flush of new duties and new responsibilities, his old enthusiasm remained half-forgotten. As a peer of the realm, he had registered his allegiance to King George, and with his youthful romantic nature all of fire, he clung to that new oath of his, idealized it, and loyally resisted the blandishments and lords held out to him from Scotland and from France. Then came the news that Charles Edward, backed by French money and French influence, would march upon London and would stop at Derby to rally round his standard, his friends in the Midlands. Young Lord Streaton, torn between memories of his boyhood and the duties of his

Starting point is 00:43:09 new position, feared to be inveigled into breaking his allegiance to King George. The malevolent fairy, who at his birth, had given him that weak mouth and softly rounded chin, had stamped his worst characteristic on the young handsome face. Phillips' one hope at this juncture was to flee from temptation. He knew that Charles Edward, remembering his past ardor, would demand his help and his adherence, and that he, Philip, might be powerless to refuse. So he fled from the county, despising himself as a coward, yet boyishly clinging to the idea that he would keep the oath he had sworn to King George. He wished to put miles of country between himself and the possible breaking of that oath, the possible yielding to the Bonnie Prince, whom none could

Starting point is 00:44:12 resist. He left his sister, Lady Patience, at Stretton Hall, well cared for by old retainers, and he, a loyal subject to his king, became a fugitive. Then came the catastrophe, that miserable retreat from Derby, the bedraggled remains of a disappointed army. Finally, Kalloden, and complete disaster, King George's soldiers scouring the country for rebels, the bills of a tanger, the quick trials and swift executions. Soon the suspicion grew into certainty that the fugitive Earl of Stratton was one of the pretenders' foremost adherents. On his weary way from Derby, Prince Charles Edward had asked and obtained a knight's shelter at Stretton Hall. When Philip tried to communicate with his sister and to return to his home, he found that she was watched, and that he was himself attainted by act of parliament. Yet he felt himself guiltless and loyal. He was guiltless and loyal. How his name came to be included in the list of rebels was still a mystery to him. Someone must have lodged sworn information. against him, but who? Surely not his old friends, the adherents of Charles Edward, out of revenge

Starting point is 00:45:45 for his half-heartedness. In the meantime, he, a mere lad, became an outcast, condemned to death by act of parliament. Presently all might be cleared, all would be well, but for the moment he was like a wild beast, hiding in hedges and ditches with his life at the moment. With his life at the mercy of any grasping Judas, willing to sell his fellow creature for a few guineas. It was horrible. Horrible. Philip vainly tried all the day to rouse himself from his morbid reverie. At intervals he would grasp the kind Smith's hand and mutter anxiously. My letter to my sister, John, you are sure she had it. And patient John would repeat a dozen times the day, I am quite sure, my lord. But since the corporal's visit, Philip's mood had become

Starting point is 00:46:45 more feverish. My letter, he repeated, has patience had my letter? Why doesn't she come? And in spite of John's entreaties, he would go to the entrance which faced the lonely heath, and with burning eyes, look out across the wilderness of furs and bracken, towards. that distant horizon where lay his home, where waited his patient, loving sister. I beg you, my lord, come away from the door. It isn't safe, not really safe, urged John Stitch again and again. Then why will you not tell me who took my letter to Streaton Hall, said the boy with feverish impatience? My lord, some stupid dolt mayhap who has lost his way, or perchance betrayed me. My lord pleaded the smith, have I not sworn that your letter went by hands as

Starting point is 00:47:46 faithful, as trusty as my own? But I'll not rest, and you do not tell me who took it. I wish to know, he added, with that sudden look of command, which all the threatens have worn for many generations passed. The old habitual deference of the retainer for his Lord was strong in the heart of John. He yielded. Nay, my lord, and you will not be satisfied, he said with a sigh. I'll tell you, though heaven knows that his safety is as dear to me as yours, both dearer than my own. Well, who was it? asked the young man eagerly. I trusted your letter for lady patience to Bo Brocade, the Highwayman. In a moment Philip was on his feet. Danger, amazement, horror robbed him of speech for a few seconds. But the next, he had gripped the Smith's arm,

Starting point is 00:48:49 and like a furious, thoughtless, unreasoning child, he gasped, Bo Brocade, the Highwayman, my life, my honor, to a highwayman. Are you mad or? Or you mad, drunk John Stitch? Neither, my Lord, said John, with great respect, but looking the young man fearlessly in the face, you don't know Bo Brocade, and there are no safer hands than his. He knows every inch of the more, and fears neither man nor devil. Touched in spite of himself by the Smith's earnestness, Philip's wrath abated somewhat. Still, he seemed dazed. not understanding, vaguely scenting danger or treachery. But a highway man, he repeated mechanically, I and a gentleman retorted John with quiet conviction, a gentleman if ever there was one,

Starting point is 00:49:49 I and not the only one who has taken to the road these hard times, he added under his breath. But a thief, John, a man who might sell my letter, betray me. my whereabouts. A man, my lord, who would die in torture sooner than do that. The Smith's quiet and earnest conviction seemed to chase away the last vestige of Philip's wrath. Still, he seemed unconvinced. A hero of romance, John, this highwayman of yours, he laughed bitterly. Honest John scratched the back of his curly black head. Noah, he said, some what puzzled, I know not about that, or what's a hero of romance, but I do know that Beau Brocade is a friend of the poor, and that our village lads won't lay their hands on him

Starting point is 00:50:48 even if they could. No, not though the government have offered a hundred guineas as the price of his head. Five times the value of mine, it seems, said Philip with a sigh, but he added, with a sudden return to feverish anxiety, if he was caught last night with my letter in his hands, caught, bow-brocade caught, laughed John Stitch. Nay, all the soldiers of the Duke of Cumberland's army couldn't do that, my lord. Besides, I know he wasn't caught. I saw him on his chestnut horse just before the corporal came. I heard him laughing at the red-coats, maybe. Nay, my lord, I beg you have no fear. Your letter is in her ladyship's hand now. I'll lay my life on that. I had to trust someone, my lord. He said after a while, as Lord Stratton once more relapsed into gloomy

Starting point is 00:51:51 silence. I could do nothing for your lordship single-handed, and you wanted that letter to reach her ladyship. I scarce knew what to do. But I did know I could trust Bo Brocade, and your secret is as safe with him as it is with me. Philip sighed wearily. Ah, well, I'll believe it all, friend John. I'll trust you and your friend, and be grateful to you both. Have no fear of that. Who am I but a wretched creature whom any rascal may shoot by act of Parliament?

Starting point is 00:52:30 But John Stitch had come to the end of his power of argument. Never a man of many words. He had only become voluble when speaking of his friend. Philip tried to look cheerful and convinced, but he was chafing under this enforced inactivity and the dark, close atmosphere of the forge. He had spent two days under the Smith's roof, and time seemed to creep with love. lead-weighted wings, yet every sound, every strange footstep, made his nerves quiver with morbid apprehension, and even now at sound of a tremulous voice from the road, shrank, moody, and impatient into the darkest corner of the hut. End of Chapter 3.

Starting point is 00:53:28 Chapter 4 of Bow Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Liprovok's recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. Jock Miggs, the Shepherd Be you at home, Master Stitch. A curious, wizened little figure stood in the doorway, peering cautiously into the forge. In a moment, John Stitch was on the alert. Sh! He whispered quickly,

Starting point is 00:54:01 Have no fear, my lord, tis only. some fool from the village. Did ye say ye baint at home, Master Stitch? Quiried the same tremulous voice again. I didn't quite hear ye. Yes, yes, I'm here all right, Jock Miggs, said the Smith heartily. Come in. Jock Miggs came in, making as little noise and taking up as little room as possible, dressed in a well-worn smock and shabby corduroy breeches, he had a curious, shrunken, timid air about his whole personality, as he removed his soft-felt hat and began scratching his scanty, toe-colored locks. He was a youngish man, too, probably not much more than 30, yet his brown face was a mass of ruts and wrinkles, like a furrowed path on brassing more.

Starting point is 00:55:03 Morning, Mr. Stitch, morning, he said, with a certain air of vagueness and apology, as with obvious admiration, he stopped to watch the broad back of the Smith and his strong arms wielding the heavy hammer. Morning, Miggs, retorted John, not looking up from his work, how's the old woman? I don't know, Mr. Stitch. replied Miggs with a dubious shake of the head. Badly, I expect, same as yesterday. He added in a more cheerful spirit. Why? What's the matter? I don't know, Mr. Stitch, that there's anything the

Starting point is 00:55:46 matter, explained Jock Miggs with slow and sad deliberation, but she's dead. Same as yesterday. involuntarily Philip laughed at the quaint fatalistic statement hello said miggs looking at him with the same apathetic wonder who be yon lad that's my nephew jim out of nottingham said john come to give me a hand morning lad piped miggs in his high trouble as he extended a wrinkled bony hand to stretton lad john stiffed he exclaimed, Anyone would know he's one of your family from the muscle he's got. And gently, meditatively, he rubbed one shriveled hand against the other, looking with awe at the fine figure of a man before him. A banging lad, your nephew, too, he added with a chuckle.

Starting point is 00:56:46 He'll be turning the heads of all the girls this side of Brassington, maybe. Oh, I'll warrant he's got a chuckle. a sweetheart at home, A, Jim Lad, or maybe more than one. But what brings ye here this day, friend, Miggs? The wizened little face assumed a puzzled expression. I don't know, he said vaguely, maybe I wanted to tell ye about the soldiers I seed at the Royal George over Bresington Way. What about him, Miggs? I don't know. I see a corporal and lots of fellers. in red. Some say there's more of them. I don't know, ha, said Stitch carelessly. What are they after? I don't know, commented Miggs, imperturbably. Some say thereafter that chap, bow brocade. There was a coach

Starting point is 00:57:42 stopped on the heath again last night. Fifty guineas he took out of it. He did. And Jock Miggs chuckled feebly with apparent but irresponsible delight. light. Some folks say it were Sir Humphrey Challoner's coach over from Hardington, and no one's going to break their hearts over that, he, he, he. But I don't know, he added with sudden frightened vagueness. Be they cavalry soldiers over at the Royal George Meggs, asked John. I don't know. I see no horses, looks more like foot soldiers, but I don't know. Corporal, he read out something just now about our getting twenty guineas if we shoot one of them rebels. I'd be mighty glad to get twenty guineas, Master Stitch, he said reflectively.

Starting point is 00:58:38 But I don't know as how I could handle a musket rightly. And folks say them traitors are mighty desperate fellows. But I don't know. Then with sudden resolution, Jock Miggs turned to the doorway. morning, Master Stitch, he said decisively, morning, lad, morning, morning, miggs. However, it seemed that Jock Miggs' visit to the forge was not so purposeless as it at first appeared.

Starting point is 00:59:09 He, he, he chuckled, as if suddenly recollecting his errand. I'd almost forgot why I came. Farmer Crabtree wanted to know, Master Stitch, if youm got the weather's collar mended yet oh yes to be sure replied the smith pointing to a rough bench on which lay a number of metal articles you'll find it on that there bench jock farmer crab-tree solgy his sheep yet jock toddled up to the bench and picked up the weather's collar noah he muttered not yet worse luck and his temper is that hot so don't ye charge him too much for the caller, Master Stitch, or it's me that'll have to suffer. And Miggs rubbed his shoulder significantly. Stitch laughed.

Starting point is 01:00:05 Philip himself, in spite of his anxiety, could not help being amused at the quaint figure of the little shepherd with his wizened face and gentle, vaguely fatalistic manner. Thus it was that no one in the forge had, perceived the patter of small feet on the mud outside, and when Jock Miggs, with more elaborate mornings and final leave-takings, once more reached the doorway, he came in violent collision with a short, be-cloaked, and closely hooded figure that was picking its way on very small, very high-heeled shoes through the maze of puddles, which guarded the entrance to the forge. The impact sent Jock Miggs, scared and apologetic, stumbling in one direction,

Starting point is 01:00:59 whilst the gray hood flew off the head of its wearer and disclosed in the setting of its shell-pink lining a merry, pretty, impudent little face with brown eyes sparkling and red lips pouting in obvious irritation. Ludd, man, said the dainty young damsel. withering the unfortunate shepherd with a scornful glance. Why don't you look where you're going? I don't know, replied Jock Miggs with his usual humble vagueness. Morning, miss, morning, master stitch, morning.

Starting point is 01:01:39 And still scared, still an obvious apology for his existence, he pulled at his forelock, re-adjusted his hat over his yellow curls, took his final leave and presently began to wend his way slowly back towards the heath. But within the forge at first bound of the young girl's voice, Stratton had started in uncontrollable excitement. Betty, he whispered, eagerly clutching John Stitch's arm, I, I, replied the cautious Smith, but I beg you, my lord, keep in the background until I find out if all is safe. Mistress Betty's saucy brown eyes followed Jock Miggs's quaint retreating figure. Well, you're a pretty bit of sheep's wool, ain't ye? She shouted after him, with a laugh and a shrug of her plump shoulders.

Starting point is 01:02:39 Then she peered into the forge. Ludd love you, Master Stitch. She said, how goes it with you? In obedience to counsels of prudence, Stratton had retired in two. the remote corner of the forge. John Stitch, too, was masking the entrance with his burly figure. All the better, Mistress Betty, he said, for a sight of your pretty face. He had become very red, had honest John, and his rough manner seemed completely to have deserted him. In fact, not to put to find a point upon it, the worthy Smith looked distinctly shy, sheepish. She looked up at him and laughed a pleased, coquettish little laugh, the laugh of a woman who has oft been told that she is pretty and has not tired of the hearing. John Stitch,

Starting point is 01:03:37 moreover, was so big and burly, folks called him hard and rough, and it vastly entertained the young damsel to see him standing there before her as awkward and uncomfortable as jock miggs himself. Am I not to step inside, Master Stitch? She asked. Yes, yes, Mistress Betty, murmured John, who seemed to have lost himself in admiration of a pair of tiny buckled shoes muddy to the ankles, such ankles, which showed to great advantage beneath Betty's short, green curdle. An angry, impatient movement behind him, however, quickly recalled his scattered senses. Did her ladyship receive a letter, mistress? He asked eagerly, Oh, yes, a stranger brought it, replied Betty, with a pout, for she preferred John's mute

Starting point is 01:04:35 appreciation of her small person to his interest in other matters. However, the demon of mischief, no doubt whispered something in her ear for the further undoing of the worthy smith for she put on a demure mysterious little air turned up her brown eyes sighed with affectation and murmured ecstatically oh such a stranger the fine eyes of him master stitch and such an air and oh added little madame with unction such clothes But though no doubt all these fine errors and graces wrought deadly havoc in poor John's heart, he concealed it well enough under a show of eager impatience. Yes, yes, the stranger, he said, casting a furtive glance behind him, he gave you a letter for my lady. La, you needn't be in such a hurry, Master Stitch, retorted Mistress Betty, adding with all the of which she was capable, the stranger wasn't. But this was too much for John. There had been such a wealth of meaning in Betty's brown eyes. Oh, he wasn't, was he? He asked with a jealous

Starting point is 01:05:58 frown, and pray what had he to say to you. There was no message except the letter. But the demon of mischief was satisfied, and Betty was disposed to be kind, even if slightly mysterious. Oh, never mind, she rejoined Archly. He gave me a letter, which I gave to my lady. That was early this morning. Well, and? But matters were progressing too slowly at any rate for one feverish, anxious heart. Philip had tried to hold himself in check, though he was literally hanging on pretty mistress Betty's lips. Now he could contain himself. no longer. Lady Patience had had his letter. The mysterious highwayman had not failed in his trust, and the news Betty had brought meant life or death to him. Throwing prudence to the winds,

Starting point is 01:06:59 he pushed John Stitch aside and seizing the young girl by the wrist. He asked excitedly, yes, this morning, Betty, then what did her ladyship do? Betty was frightened, and, like a child, was ready to drown her fright in tears. She had not recognized, my lord, in those dirty clothes. Don't you know me, Betty? asked Philip, a little more quietly. Betty cast a timid glance at the two men before her, and smiled through the coming tears. Of course, my lord, I, she murmured shyly. "'Tis my nephew, Jim, out of Nottingham, mistress,' said John sternly.

Starting point is 01:07:44 Try and remember that. And now tell us what did her ladyship do. She had the horses put to, not an hour after the stranger had been. Thomas is driving, and Timothy is our only other escort, but we've not drawn rain since we left the hall. Yes, yes, came from two pairs of eager lords. lips. And my lady stopped the coach about 200 yards from here, continued Betty, with great volubility, and she told me to run on here to see that the coast was clear. She knew I could find my way, and she wouldn't trust Timothy as she trusts me, added the young girl with a pretty

Starting point is 01:08:32 touch of pride. But where is she, Betty? Where is she? Betty pointed to the clump of furs which stood like ghostly sentinels on the crest of the hill, just where the road turned sharply to the east. Just beyond those trees, my lord, and she made Timothy watch, until I came round the bend, and in sight of the forge, but law the mud on the roads, tis fit to drown you. But already John Stitch was outside, beckoning to Mistress Betty. come mistress quick he said excitedly her ladyship must be nigh crazy with impatience by your leave my lord i'll help mistress betty on her way and i'll keep this place in sight i'll go no further yes yes rejoined philip feverishly go go fly if you can i'll be safe i'll not show myself god give you both wings for i'll not live now till I see my sister. Eager, boyish, full of wild gaiety, he seemed to have thrown off

Starting point is 01:09:47 his morbid anxiety as he would a mantle. He even laughed wholeheartedly as he watched Betty with many heirs and graces, lads and I vows, making great pretense at being unable to walk in the mud and leaning heavily on honest stitches arm. He watched them as they picked their way up the so-called road, a perfect quagmire after the heavy September rains. The air seemed so different now. The heath smelt good. There was vigor and life in the keen Norwester, how green the bracken looked, and how harmoniously it seemed to blend with the purple shoots of the bramble laden with ripening fruit, how delicate the more tender green of the gorse, and there that vivid patch of mauve, the first glimpse of opening heather. The heavy clouds too were rolling away. The September sun

Starting point is 01:10:52 was going to have his own way after all, and spread his kingdom of blue and gold over the the distant Derbyshire hills. Hope had come like the divine magician to chase away all that was gray and sad and dreary, and hope had met youth and shaken him by the hand. They are such friends, such inseparable companions, these two. What mattered it that some few yards away, the old gallows, like some eerie which, still spread its gaunt arm over that fluttering bit of parchment, the proclamation of His Majesty's Parliament. What, though it spoke of death, of treachery, of bills of a tanger, of Tower Hill, did not the good nor wester from the more flutter round it, and in wanton frolic, attack it now with madcap fury and a shrill whistle,

Starting point is 01:11:53 and now with a long, drawn-out sigh. The parchment resisted with vigor, It bore the onslaught of the wind twice, thrice, and once again. But the Norwester was not to be outdone, and again it renewed the attack, took the parchment by the corner, pulled and twisted at it until at last, with one terrific blast, it tore the royal proclamation off the old gallows, and sent it whirling in a mad gallop across the moor. far, very far away, on to Derby, to London, to the place where all winds go. End of Chapter 4. Chapter 5 of Bow Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey.

Starting point is 01:12:48 This Librevox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. There's none like her, none. There was something more than ordinary affection. between Philip, Earl of Stratton, and his sister, Lady Patience, Gascoigne. Those who knew them in the days of their happiness said they seemed more like lovers than brother and sister. So tender, so true was their clinging devotion to one another. But those who knew them both intimately said that they were more like mother and son together. Though Philip, was only a year or two younger than patience. She had all a mother's fondness, a mother's indulgence,

Starting point is 01:13:42 and sweet pity for him. He, all a son's deference, a son's trust in her. Even now as he instinctively felt her dear presence nigh, hope took a more firm, more lasting hold upon him. He knew that she would act wisely and prudently for him. For the first time for many days and weeks, he felt safe, less morbidly afraid of treachery, more ready to fight adverse fate. The heavy coach came lumbering along the quaggy road, the old coachman's woa, wawa, there, there, as he tried to encourage his horses in the heavy task of pulling the cumbersome. vehicle through the morass sounded like sweet music in Phillips' ear. He did not dare go to meet them, but he watched the coach as it drew nearer and nearer very slowly. The horses going step by step

Starting point is 01:14:49 urged on by the coachman and by Timothy, who rode close at their heads, spurring them with whip and kind words, the wheels creaking as they slowly turned. on their mud-laden axles. Thus, patience had traveled since dawn, ever since the stranger had brought her the letter which told her that her brother had succeeded in reaching this secluded corner of Derbyshire, and was now in hiding with faithful John Stitch, waiting for her guidance and help to establish his innocence. Leaning back against the cushions of the coach, she had sat with eyes closed and hands tightly clutched, anxious, wearied, at times hopeful, she had borne the terrible fatigue of this lumbering journey from Streaton Hall,

Starting point is 01:15:46 along the unmade roads of Brassing Moore, with all the fortitude the Gascoins had always shown for any cause they had at heart. At the crossroads, Thomas, the driver, brought his horse to stand still. Already as the coach had passed some 50 yards from the forge, patients had leaned out of the window, trying to get a glimpse of the deer face, which she knew would be on the lookout for her. John Stitch had escorted Betty as far as the bend in the road, and within sight of Timothy, waiting some hundred yards further on, then he had retorted. traced his steps, and was now back at the crossroads, ready to help Lady Patience to alight. Let the coach wait here, she said to the driver, we may sleep at Worksworth tonight.

Starting point is 01:16:46 Ah, my good Stitch, she added, grasping the Smith's hand eagerly. My brother, how is he? All the better since he knows your ladyship has come, replied Stitch. A few moments later, brother. and sister were locked in each other's arms. My sweet sister, my dear, dear patience, was all Philip could say at first, but she placed one hand on his shoulder, and with a gentle, motherly gesture, brushed with the other the unruly curls from the white, moist forehead. He looked haggard and careworn, although his eyes now gleamed with feverish hope, and heard,

Starting point is 01:17:31 in spite of herself began to fill with tears. Dear, dear one, she murmured, trying to look cheerful to push back the tears. All would be well now that she could get to him, that they could talk things over, that she could do something for him and with him, instead of sitting, weary and inactive, alone at Streaton Hall, without news, a prey. to devouring anxiety. That awful proclamation, he said at last, have you heard of it? I, she replied sadly, even before you did, I think, Sir Humphrey Chaloner sent a courier across to tell me of it, and my name amongst those attainted by act of parliament. She nodded, her lips were quivering,

Starting point is 01:18:28 and she would not break down, now that. that he needed all her courage as well as his own. But I am innocent, dear, he said, taking both her tiny hands in his own, and looking firmly, steadfastly, into her face. You believe me, don't you? Of course, Philip, I believe you, but it is all so hard, so horrible,

Starting point is 01:18:56 and tis heaven alone, who knows which was the just cause, There is no doubt as to which was the stronger cause, at any rate in England, said Stratton, with some bitterness. Charles Edward was very ill-advised to cross the border at all, and in the Midlands, no one cares about the stewards now. But that's all ancient history. He added with a weary sigh, it's no use dwelling over all the wretched mistakes that were committed. last year, tis only the misery that has abided until now. Why did you run away, Philip, she asked, because I was a fool and a coward, he added, while a blush of shame darkened his young sex and face. No, no, I thought if I remained at Stratton, Charles Edward would demand my help, and you know, he said with a quaint, boyish smile, I was never very good at saying,

Starting point is 01:20:04 nay. I knew they would persuade me. Love it, and Kilmarnock were such friends, and so you preferred to rent away? It was cowardly, wasn't it? I am afraid it was, she said reluctantly, her tenderness and her conviction, fighting and even battle in her heart. But why wouldn't you tell me, dear? Because I was a fool, he said, cursing himself for that same folly. You were away in London just then. You remember? She nodded, and there was no one to advise me except Chaloner. Sir Humphrey, then it was he. Philip looked at her in astonishment. There was such a strange quiver in her voice, a note of deep anxiety of almost hysterical alarm. But she checked herself quickly and said more calmly, what did Sir Humphrey Chaloner advise you to do? He said that Charles

Starting point is 01:21:11 Edward would surely persuade me to join his standard, and he would demand shelter at Stretton Hall and claim my allegiance. Yes, yes. and he thought that it would be wiser for me to put two or three counties between myself and the temptation of becoming a rebel. He thought there was a world of bitter contempt in those two words she uttered. Even Philip, absorbed as he was in his own affairs, could not fail to notice it. Challoner has always been my friend, he said almost reproachfully. I fancy little sister, he added with his boyish smile, that it rests with you that he should become my brother.

Starting point is 01:22:03 Hush, dear, don't speak of that. Why not? She did not reply, and there was a moment's silence between them. She was evidently hesitating whether to tell him of the fears, the suspicions which the mention of Sir Humphrey-Challener's name had aroused. in her heart, or to leave the subject alone. At last she said quite gently, but when I came home, dear, and found you had left the hall without a message, without a word for me, why did you not tell me then? The boy hung his head, he felt the tender reproach, and there was nothing to be said.

Starting point is 01:22:48 I would have stood by you, she continued softly. I think I might have helped. I might have helped you. There was no disgrace in refusing to join a doomed cause, and you were a mere child when you made friends with Lovett. I know all that now, dear, he said with some impatience. Heaven knows I am paying dearly enough for my cowardice and my folly. But even now, I cannot understand how my name became mixed up with those of the rebel. somebody must have sworn false information against me. But who? I haven't an enemy in the world. Have I, dear? No, no, she said quickly. But even as she spoke, the look of involuntary alarm in her face belied the assurance of her lips. But this was not the moment to add to his anxiety by futile worrying conjectures. He had sent for her,

Starting point is 01:23:53 because he wanted her, and she was here to do for him, to help and support him in every way that her strength of will and her energy would dictate. You sent for me, Philip, she said, with a cheerful, hopeful smile. Her look seemed to put fresh life into his veins. In a moment, he tried to conquer his despondency, and with a quick gesture, he tore open the rough, woolen. shirt he wore, and from beneath it drew a packet of letters. Not only his hand now, but his whole figure seemed to quiver with excitement as he gazed at this packet with glowing eyes. These letters, dear, he said in a whisper, are my one hope of safety. They have not left my body day or night ever since I first understood my position and realized my danger. And now, with them, I place my life in your hands.

Starting point is 01:24:58 Yes, Philip, they prove my innocence. He continued. As nervously, he pulled at the string that held the letters together. Here is one from Love It, he added, handing one of these to patients, read it, dear, quickly. you will see he begs me to join the pretenders standard. Here's another from Kilmenock that was after the retreat from Derby. He upbraids me for holding aloof. I was in hiding at Nottingham then, but they knew where I was and would not leave me alone. They would have followed me if they could.

Starting point is 01:25:39 And here, better still, is one from Charles Edward himself, just before he fled to France, calling me a traitor for my loyalty to King George. Feverishly, he tore open letter after letter, thrusting them into her hand, scanning them with burning, eager eyes. She took them from him one by one, glanced at them, then quietly folded each precious piece of paper, and tied the packet together again. Her hand did not shake, but being, her cloak, she pressed the letters to her heart, the letters that meant the safety of her dear one's life. Oh, if I had known all this sooner, she sighed involuntarily. But that was the only reproach that escaped her lips for his want of confidence in her. I nearly yielded to Lovett's letter,

Starting point is 01:26:38 said the boy, hesitatingly. I know, I know, dear, she said with Anne. infinity of indulgence in her gentle smile. We won't speak of the past anymore. Now let us arrange the future. He tried to master his excitement, throwing off with an effort of will, his feverishness, and his morbid self-condemnation. He had done a foolish and a cowardly thing. He knew that well enough. Fate had dealt him one of those cruel blows with which she she sometimes strikes the venial offender, letting so often the more hardened criminal go scathless. For months now, Philip had been a fugitive, disguised in rough clothes, hiding in barns and ends of doubtful fame, knowing no one whom he could really trust, to whom he dared disclose his place of temporary refuge,

Starting point is 01:27:40 or confide a message for his sister. treachery was in the air. He suspected everyone. The bill of a tanger had condemned so many men to death, and rebel-hunting and swift executions were in that year of grace the order of the day. I could do nothing without you, dear, he said more quietly, I must hide now like a hunted beast, and must be grateful for the sheltering roof of honest stitch. I have been branded as a traitor by Act of Parliament. My life is forfeit, and it is even a crime for any man to give me food and shelter. The lowest footpad who haunts the more has the right to shoot me like a mad dog. Don't, don't, dear, she pleaded. I only wished you to understand that I was not such an abject coward as I seemed. I could not get to you or reach the hall.

Starting point is 01:28:46 I quite understood that, dear. Now tell me, you wish me to take these letters to London? At once, the sooner they are laid before the king and counsel, the better. I must get to the fountainhead as quickly as possible. Once I am caught, they will give me no chance of proving my innocence. I have been tried by Act of Parliament, found guilty. and condemned to death. You realize that, dear, don't you? Yes, Philip, I do. She replied very quietly. Once in London, who do you think can best help you? Lady Edbrook, of course, her husband has just been

Starting point is 01:29:29 appointed equerry to the king. Ah, that's well. Aunt Charlotte was always fond of me. She'll be kind to you, I know. I think you should write to her. I'd take that, litter too. When can you start? Not for a few hours, unfortunately, the horses must be put up. We have been on the road since dawn. They were both quite calm now and discussed these few details as if life or death were not the outcome of the journey. Patience was glad to see that the boy had entirely shaken off the almost hysterical horror he had of his unfortunate. position. They were suddenly interrupted by John Stitch's cautious voice at the entrance of the shed. Your ladyship's pardon, said John, respectfully, but there's a coach coming up the road from

Starting point is 01:30:27 Hardington Way. I thought perhaps it might be more prudent. Hardington, brother and sister, had uttered the exclamation simultaneously. He, in astonishment, she, in obvious alarm. can it be, John? Thank you, she asked with quivering lips. Well, it couldn't very well be anyone, except Sir Humphrey Chaloner, my lady. No one else had had occasion to come down these god-forsaken roads, but they are some way off yet, he added reassuringly. I saw them first on the crest of the further hill. Maybe his honor is on his way to Derby. Patience was trying to conquer. her agitation, but it was her turn now to seem nervous and excited. Oh, I didn't want him to find me here, she said quickly.

Starting point is 01:31:24 I mistrust that man, Philip, foolishly perhaps, and if he sees me, he might guess, he might suspect. Nay, my lady, there's not much fear of that, craving your pardon, hazarded John Stitch cheerfully. If tis Sir Humphrey, t't will take his driver some time yet to walk down the incline, and then up again to the crossroads. Tis a mile and a half for sure, and the horses will have to go foot-pace. There's plenty of time for your ladyship to be well on your way before they get here.

Starting point is 01:32:05 She felt reassured, evidently, for she said more calmly, I'll have to put up somewhere, John, for a few hours, for the sake of the horses. Where had that best be? Up at Aldwark, I should say, my lady, at the moor hen. Perhaps I could get fresh horses there and make a start at once. Nay, my lady, they have no horses at the moor hen fit for your ladyship to drive. Tis only a country inn. But they'd give your horses and men.

Starting point is 01:32:39 of feed and rest. If your ladyship will pardon the liberty, you'll need both yourself. Yes, yes, said Philip, anxiously regarding the beautiful face, which looked so pale and weary. You must rest, dear. The journey to London will be long and tedious. But Altwark is not on my way, she said with a slight frown of impatience. The inn is but a mile from here. Your lady's rejoined Stitch, and your horses could never reach worksworth without a long rest. Tis the best plan, and your ladyship would trust me. Trust you, John, she said with a sweet smile as she extended one tiny hand to the faithful Smith. I trust you implicitly, and you shall give me your advice. What is it? To put up at the moorhan for the night, your ladyship,

Starting point is 01:33:39 explained John, whose kindly eyes had dropped a tear over the gracious hand held out to him, then to start for London tomorrow morning. No, no, I must start tonight. I could not bear to wait even until dawn. But the footpads on the heath, your ladyship, hazarded John, nay, I fear no footpads. They're welcome to what money I have, and they'd not care to rob me of my letters, she said eagerly. But I'll put up at the Moorhan, John. We all need a rest. I suppose there's no way across the heath from Thence to Worksworth. None, your ladyship, this is the only possible way, back here to the crossroads, and on to Worksworth from here. Then I'll see you a again, dear, she said tenderly, clinging to stretton. At sunset, mayhap, I'll start as soon as I can.

Starting point is 01:34:41 You may be sure of that. And guard the letters, little sister, he said, as he held her closely, closely to his heart. Guard them jealously. They are my only hope. You'll write the letter to Lady Edbrook, she added, have it ready when I return, and perhaps write out your own to the king. I'll use that or not, as Lord Edbrook advises. Then once more, womanlike, she clung to him, hating to part from him even for a few hours. In the meanwhile, you will be prudent, Philip, she pleaded tenderly, trust nobody but John Stitch. Any man may prove an enemy, she added with earnest emphasis, and if you were found before I could reach the king. She tore herself away from him. Her eyes now were swimming in tears, and she meant to seem brave to the end.

Starting point is 01:35:43 Stitch was urging her to hurry. After all, she would see Philip again before sunset, before she started on the long journey, which would mean life and safety to him. Two minutes later, having parted from her brother, Lady Patience, Gascoigne, entered her coach at the crossroads, where Mistress Betty had been waiting for her ladyship with as much patience as she could muster. By the time Sir Humphrey Challoner's coach had reached the bottom of the decline on the Hardington Road and begun the weary ascent up to the Blacksmith's forge, Lady Patience's carriage was well out of sight beyond the bend that led eastward to Aldwark Village. End of Chapter 5

Starting point is 01:36:35 Chapter 6 of Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Libravox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. A squire of high degree. The challoner's claimed direct descent from that sword de chaleneur who escorted Cor de leone to the crusade against Saladin. Be that as it may, there is no doubt that a Deschalineer figures in the Domestay book as owning considerable property in the neighborhood of the peak. That they had been very influential and wealthy people at one time, there could be no doubt. There was a room at Old Hartington Manor where James I had slept for seven

Starting point is 01:37:35 nights, a gracious guest of Mr. Ilbert Chaloner in the year 1612. The Baronessi then conferred upon the family dates from that same year, probably as an act of recognition to his host on the part of the royal guest. Since that memorable time, however, the challeners have not made history. They took no part whatever in the great turmoil, which in the middle of the 17th century shook the country to its very foundations, lighting the lurid torch of civil war, setting brother against brother, friend against friend, threatening a constitution and murdering a king. The challenge, Ccellaners had held aloof throughout all that time, intent on preserving their property and in amassing wealth. The later conflict between a Catholic king and his Protestant people touched them even less.

Starting point is 01:38:42 Neither pretender could boast of a challoner for an adherent. They remained people of substance, even of importance, in their own county, but nothing more. Sir Humphrey Chaloner was about this time, not more than 35 years of age. Hale, hearty, boisterous, he might have been described as a typical example of an English squire of those days, but for a certain taint of parsimoniousness of greed and love of money in his constitution, which had gained for him a not-to-enviable reputation in the He was thought to be wealthy, no doubt he was, but at the cost of a good deal of harshness towards the tenants on his estates, and he was famed throughout Staffordshire for driving a harder

Starting point is 01:39:40 bargain than anyone else this countryside. Any traveler, let alone one of such consequence as the Squire of Hardington, was indeed rare in these out-of-the-way parts. that were on the way to nowhere. Sir Humphrey himself was but little known in the neighborhood of Aldwark and Worksworth, and only from time to time, passed through the latter village on his way to Derby. John Stitch, the Blacksmith, however, knew every one of consequence for a great many miles around, and undoubtedly next to the Earls of Stratton, the challoner's were the most important family in the sister counties. Therefore, when Sir Humphrey's coach stopped at the crossroads, and the squire himself alighted therefrom and walked towards the Smith's cottage, the latter

Starting point is 01:40:40 came forward with all the deference due to a personage of such consequence, and asked respectfully what he might do for his honor. Only repair this pistol for me, Master Smith, said Sir Humphrey, you might also examine the lock of its fellow. One needs them in these parts. He laughed, a not unpleasant, boisterous laugh, as he handed a pair of silver-mounted pistols to John Stitch. Will your honor wait while I get them done? asked John, with some hesitation. they won't take long. Nay, I'll be down this way again tomorrow, replied his honor, I am putting up at Aldwark for the night. John said nothing. Probably he mistrusted the language which rose to his lips at this announcement of Sir Humphrey's plans. In a moment, he remembered

Starting point is 01:41:38 Lady Patience's look of terror when the squire's coach first came into view on the crest of the distant hill, and his faithful, honest heart, quivered with apprehension at the thought that a man whom she's so obviously mistrusted was so close upon her track. I suppose there is a decent inn in that God-forsaken whole, eh? asked the squire jovially. I've arranged to meet my man of business there, that old scarecrow, Middichip, but I'd wished to spend the night. There's only a small waistside in, Your Honor, murmured John. Better than this abode of cutthroats, this brossing more, anyway, laughed his honor. Begad, Knight overtook me some ten miles from Hardington, and I was attacked by a damned rascal who robbed me of 50 guineas. My men were a

Starting point is 01:42:40 pair of cowards, and I was helpless inside my coach. John tried to repress a smile. The story of Sir Humphrey Challoner's Midnight Adventure had culminated in 50 guineas being found in the poor box at Brassington Courthouse, and Mr. Inch, the Beatle, had brought the news of it even as far as the crossroads. I must see Squire West about this business, muttered Sir Humpherson. whilst John stood silent, apparently intent on examining the pistols. Tis a scandal to the whole country, this constant highway robbery on Brassing Moore. The impudent rascal who attacked me was dressed like a prince and rode a horse worth eighty guineas at the least. I suspect him to be the man they call bow brocade. Did your honor see him plainly? asked John.

Starting point is 01:43:40 somewhat anxiously. See him, laughed Sir Humphrey. Does one ever see these rascals? Be gad. He had stopped my coach, plundered me, and galloped off, ere I could shout, damn you, thrice. Just for one moment, though, one of my lanterns flashed upon the impudent thief. He was masked, of course. But I tell the honest friend, he had on a coat, the Prince of Wales, might envy. As for his horse, twas a thorough bread, I'd have given eighty guineas to possess. And everyone knows your honor is clever at a bargain, said John, with a suspicion of malice. Humph, grunted the squire. By gad, he added, with his usual jovial laugh, the rogue does not belie his name, bow brocade, forsooth, faith, he dresses like a lord,

Starting point is 01:44:39 and cuts your purse with an air of gallantry, and he were doing you a favor. It was difficult to tell what went on in Sir Humphrey Challoner's mind behind that handsome, somewhat florid face of his. The task was, in any case, quite beyond the powers of honest John Stitch, though he would have given quite a good deal of his worldly wealth, to know for certain whether his honors journey across Brassing Moore and onto Aldwark had anything to do with that of Lady Patience along this same road. Nothing, the squire said, however, helped John towards making a guess in that direction. Just as Sir Humphrey, having left the pistols in the Smith's hands, turned to go back to his coach, he said quite casually,

Starting point is 01:45:35 whose was the coach that passed here about half an hour before mine? The coach, Your Honor? I, when we reached the crest of the hill, my man told me he could see a coach standing at the crossroads. Whose was it? For one moment, John hesitated. The situation was just a little too delicate for the worthy Smith to handle. But he felt, as Sir Humphrey was going to Aldwerk,

Starting point is 01:46:05 and therefore would surely meet Lady Patience, that lying would be worse than useless, and might even arouse unpleasant suspicions. T'was Lady Patience, Gascoins, coach, he said at last, ah, said the squire, with the same obvious indifference. Whether did she go? I was at work in my forge, Your Honor, and her ladyship did not stop. I fancy she drove down Worksworth Way, but I did not see or hear, for I was very busy. Hum, commented his honor, whilst a shrewd and somewhat sarcastic smile, played round the corners of his full lips. I'll stay the night at Aldwark, he said, nodding to the Smith, Faith, no more traveling after dark for me on this unhallowed more, and for sure.

Starting point is 01:47:02 sure my horses could not reach worksworth now before nightfall. So have the pistols ready for me by seven o'clock tomorrow morning, A, mine honest friend? Then he entered his carriage, and slowly, with many a creek and a groan, the cumbersome vehicle turned down the road to Aldwark, whilst John Stitch, with a dubious, anxious sigh, went back into his forge. of Chapter 6. Chapter 7 of Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Librovox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. The Halt at the Moorhan. Patience herself would have been quite unable to explain why she mistrusted, almost feared Sir Humphrey Challoner. The fact that the squire of Hardington had openly declared his admiration for her.

Starting point is 01:48:13 Surely gave her no cause for suspecting him of enmity towards her brother. She knew that Sir Humphrey hoped to win her hand in marriage. This he had intimated to her on more than one occasion and had spoken of his love for her in no measured terms. Lady Patience Gascoigne was one of the richest gentlewomen in the Midlands, having inherited vast wealth from her mother, who was sister and co- heiress of the rich Grantham of Grantham Priory. No doubt her rent role added considerably to her attractions in the eyes of Sir Humphrey, that she was more than beautiful, only helped to enhance.

Starting point is 01:49:05 the ardor of his suit. Women as a rule, women of all times and of every nation, keep a kindly feeling in their heart for the suitor whom they reject, a certain regard for his sense of discrimination and admiration for his constancy, if he be constant, make up a sum of friendship for him, tempered with a gentle pity. But in most women, too, there is a subtle sense which for want of a more scientific term has been called an instinct the sense of protection over those whom they love in patience gascoyne that sense was abnormally developed philip was so boyish so young she so much older in wisdom and prudence it made her fear sir humphrey not for herself but for her brother. Her baby, as in her tender motherly heart, she loved to call him. She feared and suspected him she could scarce tell of what, not open enmity towards Philip, since her reason told her

Starting point is 01:50:22 that the squire of Hardington had nothing to gain by actively endangering her brother's life, let alone by doing him a grievous wrong. Yet she could not understand Sir Humphrey Challoner's motive in counseling Philip to play so cowardly and foolish apart as the boy had done in the late rebellion. Vaguely, she trembled at the idea that he should know of her journey to London, or, worse still, guess its purpose. Philip, she feared, might have confided in him, unbeknown to her. Sir Humphrey, for aught she knew, might know of the existence of the letters which would go to prove the boy's innocence. Well, and what then? Surely the squire could have no object in wishing those letters to be suppressed. He could but desire that Philip's innocence should be

Starting point is 01:51:24 proved. Thus reason and instinct fought their battle in her brain as the heavy coach went lumbering along the muddy road to the Little Wayside Inn, which stood midway between the crossroads and the village of Aldwark. Here her man, Timothy, made arrangements for the resting and feeding of himself, the horses, and Thomas the driver, whilst Lady Patience asked for a private room, wherein she and her maid Betty could get something to eat, and perhaps an hour's sleep before restarting on their way. The small bar parlor at the Moorhan was full to overflowing when her ladyship's coach drove up. Already there had been a general air of excitement there throughout the day for the corporal in his red coat, followed by his little squaw.

Starting point is 01:52:24 had halted at the inn, and there, once more read aloud, the proclamation of His Majesty's Parliament. The soldiers had stayed half an hour or so, consuming large quantities of ale the while. Then they had marched up to the village, read the proclamation out on the green, and finally tramped along the bridle path back to Brassington. And now, here was the quality, up at the Moorhan, a most unheard-of, unexpected event. Mistress Potage, the sad-faced, weary-eyed landlady, had never known such a thing to happen before, although she had been mistress of the Moorhan for nigh on 20 years. Usually the quality from Streaton Hall or from Hardington or even Lady Rounce from the pike preferred to drive a long way round to get to Derby

Starting point is 01:53:26 sooner than trust to the lonely heath, with its roads almost impassable four days out of five. Master Midditchip, attorney at law, who had ridden over from Worksworth with his clerk, Master Duffy, recognized her ladyship as she stepped out of her coach. Sir Humphrey will be astonished, he whispered to Master Duffy as he rubbed his ill-shaven chin with his long bony fingers. He, he, he, echoed the clerk submissively. Master Mitichip, who transacted business for the Squire of Hardington, and also for old Lady Rounce and Squire West, knew the exact shade of deference due to so great a lady as Lady. the patients Gascoim. He stood at the door of the parlor and had the honor of bowing to her as she

Starting point is 01:54:25 followed Mistress Potage quickly along the passage to the inner room beyond, her long cloak flying out behind her owing to the draft caused by the open doors. Alone in the small dingy room, Patience almost fell upon the sofa in a stupor of intense fatigue. When Mistress Potage brought the meager, ill-cooked food, she felt at first quite unable to eat. She lay back against the hard pillows with eyes closed and hands tightly clutching that bundle of precious letters. Betty tried to make her comfortable. She took off her mistress's shoes and stockings and began rubbing the cold, numb feet between her warm hands. but by and by youth and health reasserted themselves. Patients realizing all the time how much depended upon

Starting point is 01:55:26 her own strength and energy roused herself with an effort of will. She tried to eat some of the food, the mess of pottage, as she smilingly termed it, but her eyes were forever wandering to the clock, which ticked the hours. Oh, so slowly, that's the way. separated her from her journey. As for buxom little Betty, she had fallen too with the vigorous appetite of youth and a happy heart, and presently, like a tired child, she curled herself up at the foot of the couch, and soon dropped peacefully to sleep. After a while, patience too, feeling numb and drowsy with the weariness of this long afternoon, closed her eyes and and fell into a kind of stupor. She lay on the sofa like a log, tired out, dreamless. Her senses

Starting point is 01:56:25 numbed in a kind of wakeful sleep. How long she lay there she could not have told, but all of a sudden she sat up, her eyes dilated, her heart beating fast, she was fully awake now. Something had suddenly roused her. What was it? She glanced at the clock, It was just half-past three. She must have slept nearly half an hour. Betty, on the floor beside her, still slumbered peacefully. Then all her senses woke. She knew what had aroused her, the rumbling of wheels, a coach pulling up, the shouts of the driver, and now she could hear men running, more shouting, the jingle of harness and horses being led round the house.

Starting point is 01:57:16 to the shed beyond. The small lattice window gave upon the side of the house. She could not see the coach, or who this latest arrival at the Moorhan was, but what mattered that? She knew well enough. For a moment she stopped to think, forcibly conquering excitement and alarm. She called to her reason to tell her what to do. Sir Humphrey Challoner's presence here might be a coincidence, she had no cause to suspect that he was purposely following her, but in any case she wished to avoid him. How could that best be done? Mitichip, the lawyer, had seen and recognized her. Within the next few moments, the squire would hear of her presence at the inn. He too, obviously, had come to rest his horses here. How long would he stay?

Starting point is 01:58:16 She roused Betty. Betty, child, she whispered, wake up. We must leave this place at once. Betty opened her eyes. She saw her mistress's pale, excited face, bending over her, and she jumped to her feet. Listen, Betty, continued patience. Sir Humphrey Challoner has just come by coach. I want to leave this place before he knows that I am here. But the horse are not put to, my lady. Shh, don't talk so loud, child. I am going to slip out along the passage. There is a door at the end of it, which must give upon the back of the house.

Starting point is 01:59:00 As soon as I am gone, do you go to the parlor and tell Thomas to have the horses put to directly they have had sufficient rest? And to let the coach be at the crossroads as soon as. as may be after that. Yes, my lady. Then as quickly as you can, slip out of the house and follow the road that leads to the forge. I'll be on the lookout for you. I'll not have gone far, you quite understand. Oh, yes, my lady, you are not afraid. Mistress Betty shrugged her plump shoulders in broad daylight. Oh, no, my lady, and the forge is but a mile. Even as she spoke, patience had wrapped her dark cloak and hood round her.

Starting point is 01:59:53 She listened intently for a few seconds. The sound of voices seemed to come from the more remote bar parlor. Moreover, the narrow passage at this end was quite dark. She had every chance of slipping out, unperceived. Sh, sh, sh, she whispered to Betty as she opened the door. The passage was deserted, almost holding her breath lest it should betray her. Patience reached the door at the further end of it, Betty anxiously watching her from the inner room. Quickly she slipped the bolt, and the next instant she found herself looking out upon a dingy, unfenced yard,

Starting point is 02:00:38 which, for the moment, was hopelessly encumbered with the two huge traveling coach. beyond these was a long wooden shed, whence proceeded the noise of voices and laughter, and the stamping and snorting of horses, and far away the more to the right and left of her, stretched out in all the majesty of its awesome loneliness. The wind caught her cloak as she stepped out into the yard, she clutched it tightly and held it close to her. She hoped, the two coaches, which stood between her and the shed, would effectively hide her from view until she was past the house. The next moment, however, she heard an exclamation behind her, then the sound of firm steps upon the flagstones, and a second or two later she stood face

Starting point is 02:01:38 to face with Sir Humphrey Chaloner. End of Chapter 7. Chapter 8 of Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Librovox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. The rejected suitor. Whether he was surprised or not at finding her there, she could not say. She was trying with all her might to appear astonished and unconcerned. He made her a low and elaborate. He made her a low and elaborate. bow, and she responded with the deep curtsy, the fashion of the time demanded, Begad, the gods do indeed favor me, he said, his good-looking jovial face, expressing unalloyed delight, I come to this forsaken spot on God's earth and find the fairest in all England,

Starting point is 02:02:44 treading its unworthy soil. I wish you well, Sir Humphrey, she said gently, but coldly, I had no thought of seeing you here. Faith, he laughed with some bitterness. I had no hope that the thought of seeing me had troubled your ladyship much. I am on my way to derby and foolishly thought to take this shorter way across the more.

Starting point is 02:03:14 Od's life, I was well nigh regretting it. I was attacked and robbed. and robbed last evening, and the heavy roads forced me to spend the night in this unhallowed tavern. But I little guessed what compensation the fates had in store for me. I was in a like plight, Sir Humphrey, she said, trying to speak with perfect indifference. You were not robbed, surely. Nay, not that, but I hoped to reach Derby sooner by taking the shortcut across the heath, and the state of the roads has so tired the horses I was forced to turn off

Starting point is 02:03:57 at the crossroads and put up at this inn. Your ladyship is on your way to London? On a visit to my aunt, Lady Edbrook, will you honor me by accepting my protection, tis scarce fit for your ladyship to be traveling all that way alone? I thank you, Sir Humph, she rejoined coldly. My man, Timothy, is with me, besides the driver. Both are old and trusted servants. I meet some friends at Worksworth. I shall not be alone. But I pray you, sir, my time is somewhat short. I had started out for a little fresh air and exercise before reentering my coach. The inn was so stifling, and surely your ladyship will spend the night here. You cannot reach Worksworth before nightfall now. I am told the road is

Starting point is 02:04:56 well-nigh impassable. Nay, tis two hours before sunset now and three before dark. I hope to reach Worksworth by nine o'clock tonight. My horses have had a good rest. Surely you will allow me to escort you thus far, at least. Your horses need a rest. Sir Humphrey, she said impatiently, and I beg you to believe that I have sufficient escort. With a slight inclination of the head, she now turned to go. From where she stood, she could just see the road winding down towards Stitch's forge, and she had caught sight of Betty's trim little figure stepping briskly along. Sir Humphrey, thus obviously dismissed, could say no more for the present to force his escort upon her openly, was unfitting the manners of a gentleman.

Starting point is 02:05:58 He bit his lip and tried to look gallantly disappointed. His keen, dark eyes had already perceived that in spite of her self-control, she was laboring under strong excitement. He forced his harsh voice to gentleness, even to tenderness, as he said. I have not dared to speak to your ladyship on the subject that lay nearest my heart. Sir Humphrey, nay, I pray you do not misunderstand me. I was thinking of Philip and hoped you were not too unhappy about him. There is no cause for unhappiness just yet, she said guardedly, and every cause. and every cause for hope. Ah, that's well, he said cheerfully, I entreat you not to give up hope, and to keep some faith and trust in your humble servant, who would give his life for you and yours.

Starting point is 02:06:58 My faith and trust are in God, Sir Humphrey, and in my brother's innocence, she replied quietly. Then she turned and left him standing there with a frown upon his good-looking face. and a muttered curse upon his lips. He watched her as she went down the road until a sharp declivity hid her from his view. End of Chapter 8. Chapter 9 of Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Libravox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. Sir Humphreys familiar. Mistress Potage, sad-eyed, melancholy, and forever sighing, had been patiently waiting to receive Sir Humphrey Challoner's orders. She had understood from his man that his honor meant to spend the night, and she stood anxiously in the passage, wondering if he would

Starting point is 02:08:06 consider her best bedroom good enough or condescend to eat the meals she would have to cook for him. It was really quite fortunate that Lady Patience had gone, leaving the smaller parlor, which was Miss Potage's own private sanctum, ready for the use of his honor. Sir Humphrey's mind, however, was far too busy with thoughts and plans to dwell on the melancholy landlady and her meager fare, but he was glad of the private room and was gracious enough to express himself quite satisfied with the prospect of the best bedroom. Some ten minutes after his brief interview with Lady Patience, he was closeted in the same little dingy room where she had been spending such weary hours. With the healthy appetite

Starting point is 02:09:03 of a burly English squire, he was consuming large slabs of meat and innumerable tankards of small ale. whilst opposite to him, poised on the extreme edge of a very hard oak chair, his watery, colorless eyes fixed upon his employer, sat Master Middichip, attorney at law, and man of business to sundry of the quality who owned property on or about the more. Master Middichip's voice was thin. He was thin, his coat looked thin, there was in fact a general air of attenuation about the man's whole personality. Just now, he was fixing a pair of very pale but very shrewd eyes upon the heavy, somewhat coarse person of his distinguished patron. Her ladyship passed me quite close, he explained, speaking in a low, somewhat apologetic voice.

Starting point is 02:10:07 I was standing in the door of the parlor, and she graciously, nodded to me as she passed. Yes, yes, get on, man, quoth Sir Humphrey, impatiently. The door was open, Your Honor, continued Master Mitterchip, in a weak voice. There was a draft. Her ladyship's cloak flew open. He paused a moment, noting with evident satisfaction the increasing interest in Sir Humphrey's face. Beneath her cloak, he continued speaking very slowly, like an actor measuring his effects. Beneath her cloak, her ladyship was holding a bundle of letters tightly clutched in her hand. Letters A, commented Sir Humphrey eagerly. A bundle of them, Your Honor. One of them had a large seal attached to it. I might almost have seen the device.

Starting point is 02:11:06 It was that of Charles Edward Stewart, the pretender. Well, I could not. I could not say for certain, Your Honor, murmured Master Middichip humbly. There was silence for a few moments. Sir Humphrey Challoner had produced a silver toothpick and was using it as an adjunct to deep meditation. Master Middichip was contemplating the floor with rapt attention. Harky, Master Middichip, said Sir Humphrey at last. Lady Patience is taking those letters to London. That was the impression created in my mind, Your Honor. And why does she take those letters to London? Said Sir Humphrey, bringing his heavy fist, crashing down upon the table, and causing glasses and dishes to rattle, whilst Master Mitychip almost lost his balance. Why does she take them to London, I say? Because they are the proofs of her brother's innocence. It is easy to

Starting point is 02:12:12 to guess their contents, requests, admonitions, abradings on the part of the disappointed rebels, obvious proofs that Philip had held aloof. He pushed his chair noisily away from the table and began pacing the narrow room with great impatient strides. But while he spoke, Master Midditchip began to lose his placid air of apologetic deference and a look of a large suddenly lighted his meek, colorless eyes. Good lack, he murmured. Then my Lord Stratton is no rebel. Rebel, not he, asserted Sir Humphrey. His sympathies were thought to be with the stewards, but he went south during the rebellion. Twas I who advised him that he might avoid being drawn within its net. But at this, Master Middichips' terror became

Starting point is 02:13:12 more tangible. But Your Honor, he stammered, whilst his thin cheeks assumed a leaden hue, and his eyes sought appealingly those of his employer. Your Honor laid sworn information against Lord Stratton, and—and I drew up the papers and signed them with my name as your honor commanded. Well, I paid you well for it, didn't I? said Sir Humphrey roughly. But if you, if the accusation was false, Sir Humphrey, I shall be disgraced, struck off the rolls, perhaps hanged. Sir Humphrey laughed, one of those loud, jovial laughs, which those in his employ soon learnt to dread. Add's bud, he said, and one of us is to hang, old scarecrow, I prefer it shall be you. And he gave Master Midditchip a vigorous slap on the shoulder, which nearer.

Starting point is 02:14:11 precipitated the lean-shanked attorney on the floor. Good Sir Humphrey, he murmured piteously. But what was the reason of the information against Lord Stratton, since the letters can so easily prove it to be false? Silence, you fool, said his honor, impatiently. I did not know of the letters then. I wished to place Lord Stratton in a perilous position. then hoped to succeed in establishing his innocence in certain ways I had in my mind.

Starting point is 02:14:49 I wished to be the one to save him, he added, muttering a curse of angry disappointment, and gain her gratitude thereby. I was journeying to London for the purpose, and now his language became such that it wholly disconcerted Master Mitychip, accustomed though he was, to the somewhat uncertain tempers of the great folk he had to deal with. Moreover, the worthy attorney was fully conscious of his own precarious position in this matter. And now you've gained nothing, he moaned, whilst I, oh, oh, I, his condition was pitiable, his honor viewed him with no small measure of contempt. Then suddenly Sir Humphrey's face,

Starting point is 02:15:41 lighted up with animation. The scowl disappeared, and a shrewd, almost triumphant smile, parted the jovial, somewhat sensuous lips. Easy, easy, easy, you old coward, he said pleasantly. Things are not so bad as that. Adds, bud, you're not hanged yet, are you? And he added significantly, Lord Stratton is still a tainted and in peril of his life. But, but, can't you see, you fool, said Sir Humphrey, with sudden earnestness, drawing a chair opposite the attorney, and sitting astride upon it, he viewed the meager little creature before him steadfastly and seriously. Can't you see that if I can only get hold of those letters now,

Starting point is 02:16:34 I could force Lady Patience into accepting my suit? A, with them in my possession, I can go to her and say, and you marry me, those proofs of your brother's innocence shall be laid before the king, and you refuse they shall be destroyed. Oh, was Master Mitychip's involuntary comment, a mere gasp of amazement of terror at the enormity of the proposal? He ventured to raise his timid eyes to the strong florid. face before him, and in it saw such a firm will, such unbendable determination, that he thought it prudent for the moment to refrain from adverse comment. Truly, he murmured vaguely, as his honor seemed to be waiting for him to speak. Truly, those letters mean the lady's fortune to your

Starting point is 02:17:33 honor. And on the day of my marriage with her, two hundred guineas for you, Mr. Mitichip, said Challoner, very slowly and significantly, looking his man of business squarely in the face. Master Mitichip literally lost his head. Two hundred guineas, twas more than he had earned in four years, and that at the cost of hard work, many kicks, and constant abuse. A receiver of rents has from time immemorial never been a popular figure. Master Mitterchip found life hard, and in those days 200 guineas was quite a comfortable little fortune. The attorney passed his moist tongue over his thin, parched lips.

Starting point is 02:18:23 The visions which these imaginary 200 guineas had conjured up in his mind almost made his attenuated senses real. There was that bit of freehold property at Worksworth, which he had long. coveted, I, or perhaps that partnership with Master Lutworth at Derby, or twere worth your while, Master Middichip, to get those letters for me, eh? His honor's pleasant words brought the poor man back from the land of dreams. I, I, Sir Humphrey, he murmured dejectedly, how can I, a poor attorney at law? Zounds, but that's your affair, said his. his honor with a careless shrug of his broad shoulders. Me thought you'd gladly earn 200 guineas, and I offer you a way to do it. But how, Sir Humphrey? How? That's for you to think on,

Starting point is 02:19:25 my man. Two hundred guineas is a tidy sum. What? I have it, he said, slapping his own broad thigh and laughing heartily. You shall play the daring highwayman, put on a mask and stop her ladyship's coach, shout lustily, stand and deliver, take the letters from her and tis done in a trice. The idea of that meager little creature playing the highwayman, greatly tickled Sir Humphrey's fancy. For the moment he even forgot the grave issues he himself had at stake and his boisterous laugh when echoing through the old. silent building. But as his honor spoke this pleasant conceit, Master Mitychip's thin, bloodless face assumed an air of deep thought, immediately followed by one of eager excitement.

Starting point is 02:20:23 The idea of the highwayman is not a bad one, Sir Humphrey, he said with a quiet chuckle, as soon as his patron's hilarity had somewhat subsided. But I am not happy a stride. Astride. I am not happy a stride a horse, and I know not of pistols, but there's no reason why we should not get a footpad to steal those letters for you, tis their trade, after all. What do you mean? I was but justing. But I was not, Sir Humphrey. I was thinking of bow brocade. The highway man? Why not? He lives by robbery and hates all the quality whom he plunders whenever he has a chance. Your Honor has had experience only last night, eh? Well, what of it? Curse you, man, for a daughtered. Why don't you explain? To simple enough, Your Honor, you give him the news

Starting point is 02:21:23 that her ladyship's coach will cross the heath tonight, tell him of her money and her jewels, offer him a hundred guineas more for the packet of letters. He, he, he'll do the rest, never fear. Master Middichip rubbed his bony hands together. His colorless eyes were twinkling, his thin lips quivering with excitement. Dreams of that freehold bit of property became tangible once more. Sir Humphrey looked at him quietly for a moment or two. The little man's excitement was contagious, and his honor had a great deal at stake. A beautiful woman whom he loved, and her large fortune to boot. But reason and common sense, not chivalry, were still fighting their battle against his daring spirit of adventure. Tush, man, he said after a while, with the calmness

Starting point is 02:22:24 of intense excitement, you talk errant nonsense when you say, I'm to get. I'm to get. of a highwayman news of her ladyship's coach and offer him money for the letters. Where am I to find him? How? Speak with him. Middichip chuckled inwardly. His honor then was not averse to the plan. Already he was prepared to discuss the means of carrying it out.

Starting point is 02:22:53 Tis a lawyer's business to ferret out what goes on around him, Sir Humphrey, You can send any news you please to Bo Brocade within an hour from now. How? John Stitch, the blacksmith over at the crossroads, is his ally and his friend. Most folk think, tis he, always gives news to the rogue whenever a coach happened to cross the more. But that's as it may be. If your honor will call at the forge just before sunset, you'll may have to be.

Starting point is 02:23:28 you'll mayhap see a chestnut horse tethered there, and there'll be a stranger talking to John Stitch, a stranger young and well-looking. He's oft to be seen at the forge. The folk about here never ask who the stranger is, for all have heard of the chivalrous highwayman who robs the rich and gives to the poor. He-he-he, do you call at the forge, Sir Humphrey? You can arrest. this little matter there. Your news and offer of money will get to Beau Brocade, never fear. Sir Humphrey was silent. All the boisterous jollity had gone out of his face, leaving only a dark scowl behind, which made the ruddy face look almost evil in its ugliness. Midditchip viewed him with ill-concealed satisfaction. The plan had indeed found favor with his on

Starting point is 02:24:28 It was quick, daring, sure. The fortune of a lifetime upon one throw. Sir Humphrey, even before the attorney had finished speaking, had resolved to take the risk. He himself was safe in any case. Nothing could connect his name with that of the notorious highwayman who had cut his purse but the night before. I'd not have her hurt was the first comment he made. after a few minutes silent cogitation. Hurt, rejoined Minichip, why should she be hurt? Beaubrocade would not hurt a pretty woman.

Starting point is 02:25:09 He'll get the letters from her. I'll stake my oath on that. I, and blackmail me after that, to the end of my days, my good name would be at the mercy of so damned a rascal. What matter, Sir Humphrey, once Lady Patience is your wife and her fortune in your pocket. Everything is fair in love, so I've been told. Sir Humphrey ceased to

Starting point is 02:25:37 argue. Chevalry and honor had long been on the losing side. Moreover, Sir Humphrey added the crafty attorney, slyly, once you have the letters, you can denounce the rogue yourself and get him hanged safely out of your way. He'd denounce me, and who'd believe the rascal's word against your honor's flat denial, not Squire West for sure, before whom he'd be tried, and your honor can have him kept in prison until after your marriage with Lady Patience. It seemed as if even reason would range herself on the side of this daring plan. There seemed practically no risk as far as Sir Humphrey himself was concerned, and every chance of success, and that rascal Bobrocade would but consent. He would, asserted Middichip, and your honor told

Starting point is 02:26:38 him that the coach, the money, and the letters belonged to Lady Rounce, and the young lady traveling in the coach, but a niece of her ladyship. Lady Rounce is a hard woman who takes no excuse from a debtor. He-he-he. She has the worst reputation in the two counties, save your honor. The lawyer chuckled at this little joke, but Sir Humphrey was too absorbed, to note the impertinence. He was pacing up and down the narrow room in a last agony of indecision. Midditchip evidently was satisfied with his day's work. Two hundred guineas he looked upon as a certainty already. After a while, noting the look of stern determination, upon his honor's face, he turned the conversation to matters of business. He had been collecting some rents for Sir Humphrey

Starting point is 02:27:37 and also for Squire West and Lady Rounce and would have to return to worksworth to bank the money. Since Sir Humphrey Challoner was occupying the only available bedroom at the Moorhen, there would be no room for Master Middichip and Master Duffy, his clerk. He hoped to reach Brassington by the bridle path before the footpads were astir, fence at dawn, on to Worksworth. He had shot his poisonous arrow and did not stop to ascertain how far it had gone home. He bade farewell to his employer with all the deference which many years of intercourse with the quality had taught him, and never mentioned beau brocade, Lady Patience, or John Stitch's

Starting point is 02:28:29 forge again. But when he had bowed and scraped himself out of his honor's presence and was sitting once more beside Master Duffy in the bar parlor, there was a world of satisfaction in his pale, watery eyes. End of Chapter 9. Chapter 10 of Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Libravox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dion Gines, Salt Lake City, Utah. A Stranger at the Forge. In the meanwhile, Lady Patience, with Betty by her side, had been walking towards the forge as rapidly as the state of the road permitted. A sudden turn of the path brought her within sight of the crossways and of the old gallows, on which a fragment of rain-spattered rag still fluttered ghost-like in the wind.

Starting point is 02:29:37 But here within a few yards of her goal, she stopped suddenly with eyes dilated and hands, pressed convulsively to her heart in an agony of terror. Walking quickly on the road from Worksworth towards Stitch's cottage were some half-dozen red-coated figures, the foremost man among them wearing three stripes upon his sleeve. Soldiers with a sergeant at the forge, what could it mean but awful peril for the fugitive? Her halt. Her halt. had been but momentary the next instant she was flying down the pathway closely followed by Betty and had reached the shed just as the soldiers were skirting the cottage towards it. She glanced within and gave a quick sigh of relief. There was no sign of her brother

Starting point is 02:30:37 and John was busy at his anvil. Already the Smith had caught sight of her. Hush! he whispered reassuringly. Have no fear, my lady. I've had soldiers here before. But they'll recognize me, perhaps, or guess. No, no, my lady, do you pretend to be a waiting wench? They are men from Derby, mostly, and not like to know your face. There was not a moment to be lost. Patients realized this, together with the certainty that her own coolness and presence of mind might prove the one chance of safety for her brother. Halt came in loud accents from the sergeant outside. The lock, Master Stitch, said patience loudly and carelessly as the sergeant stepped into the doorway. Is it ready? Her ladyship's coach is following me from Aldwark, and will be.

Starting point is 02:31:43 be at the crossroads anon. Quite ready, mistress, replied the Smith, casting a rapid glance at the soldier, who stood in the entrance with hand to hat in military salute. The latter took a rapid survey of the interior of the forge, then said politely, your pardon, ladies. Well, and what is it now, sergeant? queried John, with affected impatience. I, I have heard that there's a stranger at your forge, Smith, replied the soldier. My corporal came down from Aldwark early this afternoon and told me about him. I'd just like to have a talk with him. One moment, Sergeant, said John, interposing his burly figure between patients and the

Starting point is 02:32:37 prying eyes of the young soldier. I think you'll find the lock quite secure now, mistress, he said, trying, good honest fellow that he was, to put as much meaning into the careless sentence as he dared. She mutely thanked him with her eyes, took the padlock from his hands, and gave him over some money for his pains. The while her heart was nearly bursting with the agony of suspense. No stranger, sergeant, rejoined the Smith, once more turning, with well-assumed indifference to the soldier. Only my nephew, out of Nottingham. Your corporal was a derby man, and knew the lad's mother, my sister, Hannah.

Starting point is 02:33:29 Quite so, quite so, Smith, quoth the sergeant pleasantly, then you won't mind my searching your forge and cottage, just for for, sake. Even then, patience did not betray herself either by a look or a quiver of the voice. Lod, how tiresome be those soldiers, she said with an affected pout. I'd hoped to wait here in peace, friend Smith, until the arrival of her ladyship's coach. Nay, mistress, you need not be disturbed, said the Smith jovially. The sergeant is but just a a friend, he added, turning to the soldier, there, I give you my word, Master Sergeant,

Starting point is 02:34:18 that there is not here for you to find. I've my orders, Smith, said the sergeant, more curtly. Nay, friend, interposed, lady patience. Surely you overstep your orders. John Stitch is honest and loyal. You do him in dignity by such unjust suspicions. You're pardon, ma'am, but I know my duty. There's no suspicion against the Smith, but there are many rebels in hiding about here, and I've strict orders to be on the lookout for one

Starting point is 02:34:56 in particular, Philip Gascoigne, Earl of Stratton, who is known to be in these parts. John Stitch interrupted him with a loud guffaw. Ludd, man, he said, There's no room for a noble lord in a wayside smithy. You waste your time. My orders say I've the right to search, quoth the sergeant firmly, and search, I'm going to. Then he turned to his squad, who were standing at attention outside. Follow me, men, he said, as he stepped forward into the forge. Fortunately, the remote corners of the shed were dark.

Starting point is 02:35:39 and patience still had her hood and cloak wrapped closely round her, or her death-like pallor, the wild, terrified look in her eyes, would at this moment have betrayed her in spite of herself. But honest John was standing in the way of the sergeant. "'Lookie here, Sergeant,' he said quietly, "'I'm a man of few words, but I'm a free-born Englishman.' and my home is my castle. It's an insult to a free and loyal citizen for soldiers to search his home, as if he were a felon. I say you shall not enter, so you take yourself off before you come by a broken head. Smith, you're a fool, commented the sergeant with a shrug of the shoulders, and you do yourself no good.

Starting point is 02:36:39 as it may be, friend, quoth John. There are fools in every walk in life. You be a stranger in these parts and don't know me, but folk will tell you that what John's stitch once says that he'll stick to. So forewarned is forearmed, friend Sergeant, A? But to this the sergeant had but one reply, and that was directed to his own squad. Now then, my men, he said, follow me, and you, John Stitch, he added loudly and peremptorily, stand aside in the name of the king. The men were ranged round the sergeant, with muskets grasped, ready to rush in the next moment at word of command. John Stitch stood between them and a small wooden door little more than a partition, behind which Philip Earl of Stratton was preparing to sell his life dearly.

Starting point is 02:37:45 That death would immediately follow capture was absolutely clear, both to him and to his devoted sister, who with almost superhuman effort of will, was making heroic efforts to keep all outward show of alarm in check. Even amongst these half-dozen soldiers, any one of them might know Lord Stratton by sight and was not likely to forget that 20 guineas, a large sum in those days,

Starting point is 02:38:20 was the price the Hanoverian government was prepared to pay for the head of a rebel. Philip was a man condemned to death by Act of Parliament. If he were captured now, neither prayer nor bribes, nor even proofs of innocence, would avail him before an officious magistrate intent on doing his duty, a brief halt at Brassington courthouse and execution in the early dawn. These were the awesome visions which passed before patience's eyes, as with a last thought of anguish. and despair, she turned to God for help. No doubt, John Stitch was equally aware of the eminence of the

Starting point is 02:39:10 peril, and determined to fight for the life of his Lord. He brandished his mighty hammer over his head, and there was a look in the powerful man's eyes that made even the sergeant pause a while, or giving the final word of command. Thus, there was a look in the powerful man's eyes that made even the sergeant pause a while, Thus, there was an instant's deadly silence, whilst so many hearts were wildly beating in tumultuous emotion. Just one instant, a few seconds mayhap, whilst even nature seemed to stand still and time to pause before the next fateful minute. And then a voice, a fresh, young, happy voice, was suddenly heard to sing. my beautiful white rose. It was not very distant, but twenty yards at most, and even now seemed to be

Starting point is 02:40:08 making for the forge, drawing nearer and nearer. Instinctively, what else could they do? Soldiers and sergeant turned to look out upon the heath. There was such magic in that merry, boyish voice, clear as that of the skylark, singing the quaint old ditty. They looked and saw a stranger dressed in elegant, almost foppish fashion. His brown hair free from powder tied with a large bow at the nape of the neck, dainty lace at his throat and wrists, scarce a speck of mud upon his fine, well-cut coat. He was leading a beautiful chestnut horse by the bridle, and had been. been singing as he walked. Patience, too, catching at this happy interruption, like a drowning man does at a straw, turned to look at the approaching stranger. Her eyes were the first to meet his

Starting point is 02:41:14 as he reached the entrance of the forge, and with an elaborate courtly gesture, he raised his three-cornered hat and made her a respectful bow. Then he burst out laughing. Ho, ho, ho. But here's a pretty to-do. Why, John Stitch, my friend, you look a bit out of temper. He stood there framed in the doorway with the golden light of the afternoon sun, throwing into bold silhouette, his easy, graceful stature, and the pleasant picture of him. with one arm round the beautiful horse's neck and his slender fingers gently fondling its soft quivering nose john stitch at first sound of the stranger's voice had relaxed from his defiant attitude and a ray of hope had chased away the threatening look in his eyes so would you be captain he said gruffly with these red coats inside your house and all their talk of rebels. Captain, murmured the sergeant, I, Captain Bathurst, my man of his

Starting point is 02:42:31 majesty's white dragoons, said the stranger, carelessly, as without more ado, he led his horse within the forge and tethered it close to the entrance. Then he came forward and slapped the sergeant vigorously on the back. And I'll go bail, Sergeant, that John Stitch is no rebel. He's far too big a fool. He added in an audible whisper and with a merry twinkle in his gray eyes. Patience still stood rigid, expectant, terrified in the darker corner of the shed. She had not yet realized whether she dared to hope whether this young stranger, with his pleasant boyish voice and debonair manner, would have the power to stay the hand of fate, which was even now raised against her brother. Betty, behind her mistress, was too terrified to speak, but already the sergeant had recovered

Starting point is 02:43:35 from his momentary surprise. At mention of the stranger's military rank, he had raised his hand to his tricorn hat. Now he was ready to perform his duty and gladly noted the Smith's less aggressive attitude. At your service, Captain, he said, and now I have my orders. I've a right of surge. But like veritable Quicksilver, Captain Bathurst was upon him in a moment. A right of surge, he said excitedly. A right of surge. A right of surge. did you say, Sergeant, odds my life, but I'm in luck. Sergeant, you're the very man for me. And he pulled the sergeant by the sleeve. I pray you, sir, protested the latter. But the young man was not to be denied. Sergeant, he whispered significantly, would you like to earn a hundred

Starting point is 02:44:36 guineas? One hundred guineas rejoined the soldier readily enough that I would. I would. sir, if you'll tell me how. He kept an eye on the little wooden door behind John's stitch, but his ear leaned towards the stranger. The bait was a tempting one. A hundred guineas was something of a fortune to a soldier of King George II. Listen then, said Bathurst, mysteriously, you've heard of bow brocade, the highwayman, haven't you? I, I, I, nodded the sergeant, who hasn't? Well, then you know that there is a price of a hundred guineas for his capture, A. Think of it, Sergeant. A hundred guineas. A little fortune, A? The sergeant's eyes twinkled at the thought. The soldiers, too, listened with eager interest, for the stranger was no longer talking

Starting point is 02:45:37 in a whisper. A hundred guineas. Three little words of wondrous magic. which had the power to rouse most men to excitement in those days of penury. Lady Patience's whole soul seemed to have taken refuge in her eyes. Her body leaning forward, her lips parted with a quick-drawn breath. She gazed upon the stranger, wondering what he would do. That he was purposely diverting the sergeant's attention from his purpose, she did not dare to think that he was succeeding, beyond her wildest hopes, was not in doubt for a moment. And yet there did not seem much gained by averting the fearful catastrophe for the span

Starting point is 02:46:29 of a few brief minutes. I, a fortune indeed, sighed the sergeant, with obvious longing, and I have sworn to lay that daredevil highwayman by the heels, continued the young man. I know where he lies hidden at this very moment, but by Satan and all his crew, I cannot lay hands upon the rascal. How so? The house is private. Worse luck. I have no right of search. The sergeant gave a knowing wink. Hum, he said, I understand. Then he added significantly. But the reward, odds life, you shall have the whole of that, Sergeant, and if your men will help me, there shall be another hundred to divide between them. I have sworn to lay the rogue by the heels, for my honor's sake. Would you believe me, Sergeant, tis but a week ago, that rascally highwaymen

Starting point is 02:47:34 robbed me in broad daylight. Fifty guineas he took from me. now i've abet with captain burrowdale five hundred guineas aside that i'll bring about the rogues capture there was no doubt now that the sergeant's interest was fully aroused the soldiers at mention of the reward which was to be theirs hung upon their sergeant's lips hoping for the order to march on this very lucrative errand hum muttered the latter with a knowing wink. Perhaps that highwayman is a personal enemy of yours as well, sir? I, side-captain, Bathurst, pathetically, the worst I ever had. And you'd be mightily glad to see him hanged, and I mistake not. What? Zounds, but I wouldn't say that exactly, Sergeant, but I have no love for him. Tis many an ill turn he has done me, of late. I understand. Then the reward? You shall have every penny of it, friend, and a hundred guineas

Starting point is 02:48:49 for your men. What say you, gallant soldiers? And he turned gaily to the little squad who had stood at very close attention all this while. But there was no need to make this direct appeal. The men were only too ready to be up and doing, to earn the reward. To earn the reward. and leave John Stitch and the very problematical rebel to look after themselves. Now quicks the word, said the young man briskly. There's not a moment to be lost. At your service, Captain, replied the sergeant, turning once more towards the inner door,

Starting point is 02:49:30 before which John Stitch still held guard, as soon as I've searched this forge. Nay, man, and you waste a man, and you waste a man, minute, you and your men will miss Beau Brocade and the Hundred Guineas reward. Quick, man, he added hurriedly, seeing that the soldier had paused irresolute. Quick, with your fellows straight up the road that leads northward, I'm on horseback, I'll overtake you as soon as may be. But, you'll see a lonely cottage about half a mile from here, then a bridle

Starting point is 02:50:09 path on the left. Follow that. You'll come to a house that was once an inn. The rascal is there. I saw him not half an hour ago. But the rebel, captain, feebly protested the sergeant, my duty. Nay, sergeant, as you will, said Bathurst, coolly, with a great show of complete indifference. But while you parley here, bow brocade will slip through your fingers. He is at the house now. He may be gone by sunset. Odds life. Search for your rebels. Go on. Waste time, and the hundred guineas are lost to you and your men forever. It was obvious that both sergeant and men were determined not to lose this opportunity of a bold bid for fortune. Done with you, sir, he said resolutely. After all,

Starting point is 02:51:09 he added, as a concession to his own sense of duty, I can always come back and search the forge afterwards. All the soldiers seemed as one man to be uttering a sigh of relief and eager anticipation, and even before the sergeant had spoken the word, they turned to go. You are a wise man, sergeant, said Bathurst jovially, off with you, straight along that road. you see before you. The cottage is just beyond that clump of distant firs. There you'll see the bridal path, but I'll overtake you before then, never fear. Time to give my horse a handful of oats.

Starting point is 02:51:56 But even while he spoke, the sergeant had called attention. I'll not fail you, sir, he shouted excitedly, a hundred guineas. Odds my life, tis a fortune. Left turn. quick march. The young man stood in the doorway and watched the little squad as preceded by their sergeant. They plotted their way northwards in quest of fortune. John Stitch, too, followed them with his eyes until the bend in the road hid the red coats from view. Then both turned and came within. But Lady Patience, through it all, never looked. at the soldiers, her eyes, large, glowing, magnetic, were fixed upon the stranger in the forge, as if in a trance of joy and gratitude. End of Chapter 10. Chapter 11 of Bo Brocade by Baroness

Starting point is 02:53:04 Emma Orksey. This Librevox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dion Gines, Salt Lake City, Utah. The Strangers' Name Mistress Betty was the first to recover from terror and surprise. She too had fixed a pair of large and wondering eyes upon the stranger. Tis the gentleman who brought the letter from his lordship last night, she whispered to her mistress. Patience closed her eyes for a moment, her spirit which had gone a-roaming into the land of dreams where dwell heroes and proud knights of old came back to earth once more then he must have guessed my brother was here she murmured and did it to save him but the tension being relaxed already the bright and sunny nature which appeared to be the chief characteristic of the stranger quickly re-exed asserted itself, and soon he was laughing merrily.

Starting point is 02:54:14 Oh, ho, gone, by my faith, he said to John, Od's life, but he swallowed that, clean as a mullet after bait, a friend stitch? It seemed as if he purposely avoided looking at patience, perhaps with the innate delicacy of a kindly nature. he wished to give her time to recover her composure. But now she came forward, turning to him with a gentle smile that had an infinity of pathos in it. Sir, she said, I would wish to thank you. He put up his hand with a gesture of self-deprecation. To thank me, madam, he said, with profound deference. Nay, you do but I have done nothing to deserve so great a favor. He bowed to her with perfect courtly grace,

Starting point is 02:55:15 but she would not be gainsaid. She wished to think that he had acted thus for her. Sir, you wrong your own most noble deed, she said, will you not allow me to keep the sweet illusion that what you did just now, you did from the kindness of your heart, because you saw that we were all anxious and that I was unhappy. She looked divinely fair as she stood there beside him with the rays of the slanting September sun touching the halo of her hair with a wand of gold. Her voice was musical and low, and there was a catch in her throat as she held out one tiny, trembling hand to him. He took it in his own strong grasp and kept it a prisoner therein for a while. Then he bent his slim, young figure, and touched her fingertips with his lips.

Starting point is 02:56:23 Faith, madam, he said, by that sweet illusion, and it dwell a while in your memory, I am more than repaid. In the meanwhile, John had pushed open the small door, which led to the inner shed. Quite safe, my lord, he shouted gaily, only friends present. Brother and sister, regardless of all, save their own joy in this averted peril, were soon locked in each other's arms. Captain Bathurst had heard. heard her happy cry, Philip, and seen the look of gladness brighten her tear-dimmed eyes. And a curious feeling of wrath, which he could not explain, caused him to turn away with a frown and a sigh.

Starting point is 02:57:15 Patience was clinging to her brother, half-hysterical, nervous, excited. You are safe, dear, she murmured, touching with trembling motherly hands, the dear head so lately in peril. Quite safe. Let me feel your precious hands. Oh, it was so horrible. Another moment, and you were discovered. Sir, she added once more turning to the stranger with the sweet impulse of her gratitude. My thanks just now must have seemed so poor. I was nervous and excited. but see, here is one who owes you his life and who, I know, would wish to join his thanks to mine. But there was a change in his manner now. He bowed slightly before her and said very coldly,

Starting point is 02:58:13 Nay, madame, let me assure you once again that I have done not to deserve your thanks. John Stitch is my friend, and he seemed in trouble. if I have had the honor to serve you at the same time, tis I who should render thanks. She sighed somewhat disappointed at his coldness, but Philip, with boyish impulse, held out both hands to him. Nay, sir, he said, I know not who you are, but I heard everything from behind that door, and I know that I owe you my life. I beg you, you. I beg you. you, sir. Another moment, and I had rushed out and sold my life dearly. Your noble effort, sir, did more than save that life, he added, taking patience's hand in his. It spared a deep sorrow

Starting point is 02:59:11 to one who is infinitely dear to me, my only sister. Your sister, I, my sister, Lady Patience, Gascoigne, I am the Earl of Stratton unjustly attainted by Act of Parliament. The life you have just saved, sir, is henceforth at your command. Indeed, Philip, added patience gently. We already are deeply in this gentleman's debt. Betty, who saw him, tells me that it was he who brought me your letter yesternight. You, sir, exclaimed Stratton. in profound astonishment, then you are.

Starting point is 02:59:55 He paused instinctively, for he had remembered his conversation with John Stitch earlier in the day. He remembered the anger, the wonder which he had felt when the Smith told him that he had entrusted the precious letter for Lady Patience to bow brocade, the highwayman. Then you are, repeated Philip mechanically. Patience was clinging to her brother with her back towards the stranger, so she did not see the swift look of appeal the slender finger put up in a mute, earnest prayer for silence. But now she turned and looked inquiringly at him, her eyes asking for a name by which she could remember him. Captain Jack Bathurst, he said, bowing low, at your command. End of Chapter 11. Chapter 12 of Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey.

Starting point is 03:01:03 This Librovox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Settlic City, Utah. The Beautiful White Rose. But, of course, there was no time to be lost. Captain Jack Bathurst was the first to give the alarm. Those gallant lobsters won't be long in finding out. that they've been hoodwinked, he said, and I mistake not, they'll return here anon with a temper slightly the worse for where. They must not find your lordship here at any rate, he added earnestly. But what's to be done? asked patience, all her anxiety returning in a trice and instinctively turning for guidance to the man who already had done so much for her. For the next, hour or two, at any rate, his lordship would undoubtedly be safer on the open more, said

Starting point is 03:02:03 Bathurst decisively. Tis nigh on sunset, and the shepherds are busy gathering in their flocks. There'll be no one about, and twould be safer. On the open more? I, tis not a bad place, he said, with a touch of sadness in his fresh young voice, I myself, he checked himself and continued more quietly. Your lordship could return here after sundown. You'd be safe enough for the night. After that, and you'll grant me leave, my friend Stitch and I will venture to devise some better plan for your safety. For the moment, I pray you be guided by this good advice and seek the protection of the open more. He had spoken so earnestly with such obvious heartfelt concern, and at the same time, with such

Starting point is 03:03:00 quiet firmness, that instinctively Philip felt inclined to obey. The weaker nature turned for support to the stronger one, to whose dominating influence it felt compelled to yield. He turned to patience, and her eyes seemed to tell him that she was ready, to trust this stranger. I, I'll go, sir, he sighed wearily. He kissed his sister with all the fondness of his aching heart. All his hopes for the future were centered in her, and in the long journey she was about to undertake for his sake. Bathurst discreetly left brother and sister alone. He knew nothing of their affairs, of their plans, their hopes. Stitch was too, to loyal to speak of his lord even to a man whom he trusted and respected as he did the captain.

Starting point is 03:04:00 The latter knew that a hunted man was in hiding in the Smith's forge. He had taken a message from the man to the lady at Stretton Hall. Now he knew for certain that the fugitive was the Earl of Stratton, but that was all. Being outside the pale of the law himself, his sympathies at once ranged themselves on the side of the fugitive. Whether the latter were guilty or innocent mattered little to Jack Bathurst. What did matter to him was that the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on was unhappy and in tears. Philip, seeing that he could talk to his sister unobserved, whispered eagerly, the letters, dear, have a care, how will you carry them? In the drawer underneath the seat of the coach, she whispered in reply, I'll not leave the coach

Starting point is 03:04:59 day or night until I've reached London. From Worksworth onwards, I'll be traveling with relays. I need neither spare horses nor waste a moment's time. I can be in town in less than six days. When will your coach be ready? In a few minutes now, and I'll start at once. But go, go now, dear, she urged tenderly, since Captain Bathurst thinks it better that you should. She kissed him again and again, her heart full of hope and excitement at thought of what she could do for him, yet aching because of this parting. It was terrible to leave him in this awful peril, to be far away if danger once again became imminent. When at last he had torn himself away from her, he made quickly for the door, where Bathurst had been waiting for him. Ah, sir, sighed Philip bitterly,

Starting point is 03:06:03 "'Tis a sorry plight for a soldier and a gentleman to hide for his last. "'Aye, sir,' sighed Philip bitterly, "'Tis a sorry plight for a soldier and a gentleman "'to hide for his life like a coward and a thief. "'But Bathurst before leaving was looking back "'at the beautiful picture of Patience's sweet face bathed in tears. "'Like a thief,' he murmured, "'Nay, sir, thieves have no angels to guard and love them. "'Meethinks you have no cause to complain of your fate.

Starting point is 03:06:33 There was perhaps just a thought of bitterness in his voice as he said this, and patience turned to him and gazed at him in tender womanly pity through her tears. At once the electrical sunny nature within him again gained the upper hand. Laughter and gaiety seemed with him to be always close to the surface, ready to ripple out at any moment, and calling forth hope. and confidence in those around. And you'll accept my escort, sir. He said cheerfully to Philip, I'll show you a sheltered spot known only to myself. And to Jack Lantern, he added, giving a passing tender tap to his beautiful horse. He and I are very fond of the more, a Jack, old friend. We are the two Jacks, you see, sir, and seldom are seen a part. heart. Together we discovered the spot which I will show you, sir, and where you can lie, Purdue,

Starting point is 03:07:41 until nightfall, tis safe and lonely and but a step from this forge. Philip accepted the offer gratefully. Like his sister, he too felt that he could trust Jack Bathurst. As he walked by his side along the unbeaten track on the heaths, he viewed with some curiosity, not unmixed with boyish admiration, the tall, well-knit figure of his gallant rescuer. He tried to think of him as the notorious highwayman Beau Brocade, on whose head the government had put the price of a hundred guineas. A hero of romance he was in the hearts of the whole countryside, yet a felon in the eyes of the law. Philip could just see his noble profile with the well-cut features, the boyish sensitive mouth, firm chin, and straight massive brow,

Starting point is 03:08:42 over which a mass of heavy brown curls clustered in unruly profusion. A brave man surely Philip had experienced that. A wise one, too, in spite of his youth, threatened guest his companion to be still under 30 years of age, and yet there was was at times, in spite of the inherently sunny disposition below, a look of melancholy of disappointment in the deep gray eyes, which spoke of a wasted life, of opportunities lost perhaps, or of persistent adverse fate. Through it all, there was that quaint air of foppishness, the manners and appearance of a dandy about the court. The caped coat was dark and dark. serviceable, but it was of the finest cloth and of the latest most fashionable cut, and beneath it

Starting point is 03:09:42 peeped a dainty silk waistcoat, delicately embroidered. The lace at throat and wrists was of the finest mucklin, and the boots, though stout and heavy, betrayed the smallness and the arch of the foot. Though Jack Bathurst had obviously been riding, he carried neither whip nor cane. All that Philip observed in this rapid walk to the place of shelter which Bathurst had thought out for him, patience with a woman's quick perception had noted from the first. To her, of course, the captain was but a gallant stranger. Good to look at and replete with all the chivalrous attributes this troublous century called forth in the hearts of her sons. She knew not of bow brocade the highwayman and probably would have recoiled in horror at thought of connecting the

Starting point is 03:10:40 name of a thief with that of her newly found hero of romance. She stood in the doorway for some time watching with glowing eyes the figures of the two men until they disappeared behind a high clump of gorse. Then with a curious little sigh, she turned and went within. John Stitch and Mistress Betty were carrying on an animated conversation in a remote corner of the forge. Patience did not wish to disturb them. She was deeply grateful to John and felt kindly disposed towards the suggestion of romance conveyed by the Smith's obvious appreciation of pretty mistress Betty. She crossed the shed and opening the door at the further end of, of it, she found that it gave upon a small yard, which separated the forge from the cottage,

Starting point is 03:11:40 and in which Stitch and his mother, who kept house for him, had with tender care succeeded in cultivating a few flowers, only one or two tall hollyhocks, some gay-looking sunflowers, and a few sweet-scented herbs. And on the south aspect, a lovely trail of creeping white, rose, the kind known as five sisters, threw its delicate fragrance over this little oasis in the wilderness of the moor. And almost mechanically, whilst her fancy once more went a-roaming in the land of dreams, patience began to home the quaint old ditty, my beautiful white rose. Suddenly, at a quick thought, mayhap, her eyes grew dim. Her cheeks began to burn. She drew towards her a cluster of snowy blossoms, on which the earlier rains had left a mantle of glittering diamonds and

Starting point is 03:12:42 buried her glowing face in its pure, cool depths. Then she detached one lovely white rose from the parent bow, and sighing pinned it to her belt. End of Chapter 12. Chapter 13 of Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Librovox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. A proposal and a threat. Sir Humphrey Challoner had not been long in making up his mind to take Master Mittedship's pernicious advice. He twisted the old adage that,

Starting point is 03:13:31 that everything is fair in love to a justification of his own evil purpose. He was not by any means a bad man, save for his somewhat inordinate love of money. He had none of the outrageous vices, which were looked upon with leniency in the quality in those days. He drank hard and exacted his pound of flesh equally from all his tenants. But neither of these characteristics was unusual in an English squire of the early 18th century. A great many of them were impecunious, and all were fond of good cheer. Originally, he had meant no harm to the young Earl of Stratton. His plan, as he clumsily conceived it, was to get Philip into trouble first, then to extricate him from it for the sake of earning the gratitude of the richest heiress in the Midlands and the most beautiful woman in England to boot. Sir Humphrey Challoner was not a diplomatist. He was a rough country gentleman of that time, with but scant notions of abstraint.

Starting point is 03:14:51 right and wrong, where his own desires were at stake. His original plan had failed through that very act of Parliament, which placed Phillips' life in immediate and imminent peril. Sir Humphrey did not desire the lad's death, of course not. He had nothing to gain thereby, and only wished for the sister's hand in marriage. He started for London post-haste, hoping to still to use what influence he had and also what knowledge he possessed of Phillips' attitude at the time of the rebellion in order to bring about the boy's justification and release. That patience had evidently found a means of proving her brother's innocence without his help was a bitter disappointment to Sir Humphrey. He knew that she would never marry him of her own

Starting point is 03:15:51 free will, but only on compulsion or from gratitude. The latter was now out of the question. He could do nothing to earn it. Compulsion was the only course, and Mitterchip, with crafty persuasion, had shown him the possible way. Therefore, he went to the forge of John Stitch to carry through the plan to that end. It was close on sunset, on the moor. Gorse, Bramble and Heather were bathed in ruddy gold, the brilliant aftermath of this glowing September afternoon. Sir Humphrey had walked over from the Moorhan. As soon as he entered the forge, the first thing he noticed was the beautiful chestnut horse tethered against the doorpost, the same which he himself had declared that very day to be worth a small fortune. Fate was

Starting point is 03:16:51 obviously playing into his hands. Middichip had neither deceived him nor lured him with false hopes. Otherwise, the shed was empty. There was no sign of John Stitch or of the stranger who rode the chestnut horse. Sir Humphrey went within, and as patiently as he could, set himself to wait. When, therefore, Jack Bathurst returned to the forge some few minutes, later, he found that her ladyship, Betty, and Stitch had gone, whilst sitting on the edge of the rough-deal table and impatiently tapping his boot with a riding-whip was no less a personage than the squire of Hardington. Jack had caught a glimpse of his honor the night before on the heath, under circumstances which even now brought a smile to his lips, and

Starting point is 03:17:51 which, incidentally, had made the poor of Brassington richer by 50 guineas. For a moment, he hesitated whether he would go in or no. He had been masked, during that incident, of course, and knew not even the ABC of fear. His daredevil spirit of fun and adventure quickly gained the upper hand, and the next moment he had greeted his honor with all the courtly grace he had at command. Sir Humphrey looked at him keenly for a moment or two, young and well-looking, off to be seen at the forge at sundown. Od's life, but, your servant, sir, he said, returning the salutation. Sir Humphrey was in no hurry. He firmly believed that fate had decided to be kind to him in this matter, but he feared to brusk the situation and thereby to imperil the successful

Starting point is 03:18:57 issue of his scheme. Therefore, he passed the time of day with this well-looking stranger. He talked of the weather and the rains on the moors, the bad state of the roads, and the insufficiency of police in the county, of the late rebellion and the newest fashion, in coats. Jack Bathurst seemed to fall into his mood. He was shrewd enough to perceive that Sir Humphrey challoner was in his own estimation playing a diplomatic game of cat and mouse, and it much intrigued Bathurst to know what his ultimate purpose might be. He had not long to wait. After some five minutes of casual conversation, Sir Humphrey went straight for his goal. Od's life, he said suddenly, interrupting his own flow of small talk,

Starting point is 03:19:57 it wonders me how long that Rascally Smith will stay away from his work, adds Bud, but he's a lazy vagabond. What say you, sir? Nay, you, sir. Wrong and honest man, replied Bathurst. John Stitch is a steady worker. Shall I call him for you? I know my way about his cottage. Nay, I thank you, sir. My purpose can wait. Truth to tell, added his honor carelessly, twas not the blacksmith's work I needed, but his help in a trifling matter of business.

Starting point is 03:20:36 Indeed, you'll be surprised, perhaps, at my question, sir, but have you ever heard mention of that fellow? bow-brocade? Oh, vaguely, a highwayman, sir, and a consummate rogue, yet your honest John Stitch is said to be his friend. Indeed. Now, and you'll believe me, sir, I have a mind to speak with the rascal. Indeed, then you are bolder than most, sir, said Jack cheerfully. He was really beginning to wonder what the squire of Hardington was driving at. It seems strange, doesn't it? But to be frank with you, I'm in two minds about that rogue. How so? Well, I have a score to settle with him and a business to propose, and I cannot decide which course to adopt. You, sir, being so clever, might perhaps manage both, said Bathurst,

Starting point is 03:21:40 with a touch of sarcasm. Hum, I wonder now, continued Sir Humphrey, not wishing to notice the slight impertinence. I wonder now what an independent gentleman like yourself would advise me to do. I have not the honor of knowing who you are. He added with grave condescension, but I can see that you are, like myself, a gentleman. Bathersd bowed in polite acknowledgement. I should be proud to serve you with advice, sir,

Starting point is 03:22:15 since you desire it. Well, as I have said, I have a score to settle with the rogue. He stole fifty guineas from me last night. Ah, me, sighed Jack, with a melancholy shake of the head. Then I fear me. He'll never haunt the heath again. What mean you, sir? Nay, I can picture the rascal now, after you, sir, had punished him for his impudence, a mangled, bleeding wreck, but there, I have no pity for him, daring to measure his valor against your noted prowess. Quite so, quite so, quoth his honor, while smothering a curse at this more obvious piece of insolence.

Starting point is 03:23:04 But I entreat your pardon. I was interrupting the story. I saw the rogue, sir, said Sir Humphrey, glancing significantly at the young man, saw him clearly by the light of my carriage, Lentthorns. He was masked, of course, but I'd know him anywhere and would denounce him tomorrow. He had risen to his feet, and with legs apart, standing face to face with Bathurst, he spoke every word as if he meant them to act as a threat. There are plenty of soldiers about these parts now, even if the country folk won't touch their vaunted hero of romance. I could get him hanged, sir, within a week. A cordon of soldiers round this heath, my word to swear his identity, and—but there, he added with a jovial

Starting point is 03:24:01 laugh, tis no concern of yours, is it, sir? You were kind enough to promise me your advice. This is one of my alternatives, the score I'd wish to settle. There's still the business I could offer the rogue. Sir Humphrey had looked the young man squarely in the face, whilst he uttered his threat, but had seen nothing there, save the merriest, the most light-hearted of smiles. I can scarce advise you, sir, said Bathurst, still smiling, unless I know the business as well. Well, sir, you know of old Lady Rounce, do you not? The meanest, ugliest old witch in the county, eh? Well, she is on her way to London, and carries with her a mass of money, run from her miserable tenants.

Starting point is 03:24:55 Faith, sir, you paint a most entrancing picture of the lady. Now, and that rascal Bo Brocade were willing to serve me, he could at one stroke, save his own neck from the gallows, enrich himself, write the innocent, and confound a wicked old woman. And how could this galaxy of noble deeds be accomplished at one stroke, sir? Her ladyship's coach will pass over the heath tonight. It should be at the crossroads soon. there will be all the old herodon's money and jewels to be got out of it, of course, and also a packet of love-letters, which doubtless will be hidden away in the receptacle beneath the seat. Letters, queried Bathurst, I doubt me if love-letters would tempt a gentleman of the road. Nay, sir, replied his honour, now dropping his voice to a confidential whisper, These are letters which, if published, would compromise an artless young lady,

Starting point is 03:26:06 whom old Lady Rounce pursues with her hatred and spite. Now, I would give a hundred guineas to any person who will bring me those letters at the Moorhan tomorrow. Surely to a gentleman of the road, this game would be worth the candle. Lady Rounce carries money with her besides and her diamonds. What think you of it, sir? Tis somewhat difficult to advise, said Bathurst, meditatively. Ah, well, said Sir Humphrey, with affected indifference, tis really not much to me. On the whole, perhaps, I would prefer to deliver the rascal into the hands of my friend Squire West at Brassington.

Starting point is 03:26:53 Anyway, I half the night to think the matter over, tis too late now to wait for that loud. John Stitch, I would have preferred to have had your advice, sir. I dare say tis difficult to give, and you a stranger too. I would have liked to save a young girl from the clutches of that old witch, Lady Rounce, and if Beau Brocade rendered me that service, I'd be tempted to hold my tongue about him. He should have the hundred guineas tomorrow, and have not to fear from me if he brought me those letters if not well well we shall see the old gallows here have long been idle we shall see we shall see good day to you sir proud to have met you no i'll not wait for john stitch is this your horse pretty creature good day sir good day his honor was extremely condescending and pleasant he bowed very politely to Bathurst, padded the beautiful chestnut horse, and showed no further desire to talk with John Stitch. Bathurst, with a frown on his handsome face, watched the squire of Hardington's

Starting point is 03:28:16 burly figure disappear round the bend in the road. I wonder now, he mused, what mischief he's brewing. He seemed to me up to no good. I suppose he guessed who I was. While he stood there watching, John Stitch quickly entered the forge from the rear. I was in the cottage, Captain. He said, my mother was serving the ladies with some milk. But just now I saw Sir Humphrey Challoner walking away from the forge. I feared he might see you. He did see me, honest friend, said Jack lightly. His honor and I have just had a long and animated conversation together. great heavens the man is furious with you captain said the smith with genuine anxiety in his gruff voice he saw you distinctly on the heath last night he may have recognized you to-day he did recognize me and may be brewing the devil's own mischief against you Oh, ho, laughed the young man with a careless shrug of the shoulders against me.

Starting point is 03:29:28 Well, you know, honest John, I am bound to end on the gallows. Sooner or later, sooner or later, he added merrily, noting John's look of sorrowful alarm. They've not got me yet, though there are so many soldiers about, as that piece of underdone roast beef said just now. You'll not tell me what Sir Humphrey Challoner spoke to you about? No, friend, I will not, said Jack, with a look of infinite kindness, and placing a slender white hand on the Smith's broad shoulder. You are my friend, you know, you shoe and care after my horse, you shelter and comfort me.

Starting point is 03:30:14 May heaven's legions of angels bless you for that. of my life on the heath i'll never tell you aught whatever you may guess tis better so i'll not have you compromised or implicated in my adventures in case well if they do catch me you know friend tis better for your sake that you should know nothing but you'll not go on the heath to-night captain pleaded the smith with a tremor in his voice i that i John Stitch rejoined Bathurst with a careless laugh, which now had an unmistakable ring of bitterness in it, to stop a coach, to lift a purse. That's my business. I'll go to the heath, friend, tis my only home, you know, ere I find a resting place on the gallows yonder. John sighed and turned away, and thus did not hear the faint murmur that came, of a great and good heart, overfull with longing and disappointment. My beautiful white rose, how pale she looked, and how exquisitely fair.

Starting point is 03:31:31 Ah, me, if only, Jack, don't be a fool, he added, with a short, deep sigh. Tis too late, remember, for bow brocade to go galloping after an illusion. End of Chapter 13 Chapter 14 of Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Librevox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dion Gines, Salt Lake City, Utah. The Fight in the Forge John Stitch ventured no further opposition, well knowing the reckless spirit,

Starting point is 03:32:16 which his own quiet devotion, was powerless to keep in charge. check. Moreover, Lady Patience, closely followed by the ever-faithful Betty, had just entered by the door that gave from the yard. I was wondering, honest Stitch, she said, if my coach were yet in sight. Me seems the horses must have had sufficient rest by now. I'll just see, my lady, said John. At first sound of her low musical voice, Bathurst had turned to her, and now his eyes rested with undisguised admiration on her graceful figure, dimly outlined in the fast-gathering shadows. She too caught sight of him, and sorely against her will, a vivid blush mounted to her cheeks. She pulled her cloak close to her, partly to her.

Starting point is 03:33:15 hide the bunch of white roses that nestled in her belt. Thus there was an instance silent pause, during which two hearts, both young, both ardent, and imbued with the spirit of romance, beat, unknown to one another in perfect unison. And yet at this supreme moment in their lives, supreme, though they themselves knew it not, neither of them, had begun to think of love. In her, there was just that delightful feeling of feminine curiosity mingled with the subtle homage of a proud woman for the man who, in her presence, and for her sake, had proved himself brave, resourceful, full of invention, and of pluck. There was also an unexplainable sense of the magnetism caused by the real personality, by the unmistakable

Starting point is 03:34:20 vitality of the man. He lived, he felt, he thought differently to anyone else in a world quite apart and entirely his own, and she felt the magic of this sunny nature of the merry, almost boyish laugh, overlying, as it were, the undercurrent of the undercurrent of disappointment and melancholy, which had never degenerated into cynicism. But in him, ah, in him there was above all a wild, passionate longing, the longing of an intensely human aching heart when it is brought nigh to its own highest ideal and knows that that ideal is infinitely beyond his reach. The broken-down gentleman, the notorious hero of Midnight Adventures, Highwayman, robber, thief, what right had he even to look upon her,

Starting point is 03:35:24 the perfect embodiment of exquisite womanhood, the beautiful realization of man's tenderest dreams? Perhaps at this one supreme moment in his reckless career, the wild adventurer felt the first pang of humbled pride, of that pride which had defied existing laws and built up a code of its own. He understood then all at once the stern, iron-bound rule which makes of man, free lord of creation though he be, the slave of, those same laws which he himself has set up for his own protection. Bo Brocade, the highwayman, closed his eyes and no longer dared to look on his dream. He turned to his horse, and with great tenderness, began stroking jack-lantern's soft, responsive nose. The next-moment stitch, who had been busy with his work, looked up in sudden alarm. The soldiers, he said briefly, all running, the sergeants at the head of them, and some of the

Starting point is 03:36:40 shepherds at their heels. At first, patients did not understand where the actual danger lay. My brother, she gasped, terrified, but a look from Bathurst reassured her, absolutely safe, he said quickly and decisively, a hiding place known to no one but me. I give your ladyship my word of honor that there is not the remotest danger for him. She felt all her terrors vanishing, but these few words spoken to comfort her went nigh to costing Bathurst dear. In those few brief seconds, he had lost the opportunity of jumping on jackalenturn's back and getting well away before the soldiers had reached the entrance of the forge, and had effectually barred his chance of escape. As it was,

Starting point is 03:37:39 he had only just undone the halter, and before he had time to lead jackal-lantern out, the voice of the sergeant was heard quite close to the doorway, shouting breathlessly, forward, quick, arrest that man. My sword, John, for your life, was Bathurst's ready, answer to the challenge. Stitch darted to a corner of the forge. Lady Patience gave a quick, short gasp. She had suddenly realized that for some reason which she could not quite fathom, the man who had so pluckily saved her brother from the soldiers an hour ago, was now himself in imminent danger. Jack snatched the sword eagerly, which the smith was holding, out to him, and resting the point of the blade on the ground before him, he tested with

Starting point is 03:38:37 evident satisfaction the temper of the steel. Not a moment to soon this, for already the sergeant running, panting, infuriated by the trick played upon him, had appeared in the doorway, closely followed by two of his men. Caught like a rat in a hole, Jack was prepared to fight. Perhaps at bottom he was glad that circumstances had not compelled him to show a clean pair of heels before this new danger to himself. Alone, he might have liked to flee. Before her, he preferred to fight. Odds my life, he said merrily, tis my friend, the sergeant. You sent me on a fool's errand, shouted the latter as loudly as his scant breath would allow, and tis my belief, you are one of them rebel lords yourself. At any rate, you shall give an account of yourself

Starting point is 03:39:43 before the magistrate, and if the smith dares to interfere, he does so at his peril, he added, seeing that John Stitch had seized his hammer and was handling it ominously, prepared to resist the established authority on behalf of his friend. But whilst the sergeant parlayed Jack with the rapid keen eye of a practiced fencer and the wary glance of a child of the moor had taken note of every advantage, however slight, which his present precarious position had left him. The sergeant and two men were in the doorway, momentary, Tarily pausing in order to recover their breath. Three more of the squad were running forward along the road, but were still some little distance off, and would be a few minutes before they

Starting point is 03:40:43 reached the Smithy. Further on still, there were the others, at present only appearing as scarlet dots on the heath. Close on the heels of the sergeant, two or three shepherds, with job Meggs in their rear had come to see what was happening in the forge. It had taken Jack Bathurst only a couple of seconds to note all these details. Luck so far favored him that for the next minute or two at least he would only have to deal with the sergeant and two soldiers. Into it, my men, arrest him in the name of the king, shouted the sergeant, and the two soldiers. grasping their bayonets, made a rush for the interior of the shed, ready to surround Jack and his horse. But quick as a lightning flash, Bathurst gave Jackalentern a slight prick in the ribs with his sword.

Starting point is 03:41:45 The nervous creature, already rendered restive by the sudden noise, began to plunge and rear, and thus, as his master had hoped, scattered the compact group of a sailor. momentarily away from the vicinity of his hooves. This gave the young man the desired opportunity. Nimble as a fox, when hotly pursued, he stepped back and with one bound, took up a position on the top of a solid oak table, which stood in the deep shadow caused by the doorway. Thus, for the moment, leaving Jackal-Lantern as a barrier between himself, and his enemies. Friend Stitch, he shouted from this exalted height, Do you stand by the ladies? Stir not from their side, whatever happens, nor interfere

Starting point is 03:42:41 between me and the soldiers at your peril. The lust of battle was upon him now. He was satisfied with his position and longed to begin the fight. On his left was the outside wall of the shed, and guarding his right was the huge furnace of the smithy, out of which the burning embers cast fitful, flickering lights upon his tall, slim figure, and drew from his blade sparks of blood-red gold. He had wrapped the thick capes of his heavy cloth coat round his left arm. The folds of it hung down to his feet, forming a shield round the lower part of his left arm. his figure. Already the soldiers had recovered from the short panic caused by jackal lanterns timely rearing. One of them now seized the horse by the bridle and let him out into the open,

Starting point is 03:43:41 thus exposing Bathurst more fully to the onslaught of their bayonets. Jack was fully prepared for them, and as soon as the sergeant had given the order to attack, his steel began to dart. in and out of the gloom like some live snake with tongue of steel, illumined by the fitful embers of the furnace fire. It seemed to give forth a thousand sparks of which like flame with every turn of the cunning wrist. The outline of his head and shoulders was lost in the dense shadows above, whilst his assailants stood in the full glare of the setting sun. which hot and blinding came streaming into the shed dazed by the flickering light of the furnace and the sunset glow beyond the soldiers made very ineffectual plunges into the dark shadow whence fencing and parrying and with many equip and sally jack had at first an easy task in keeping them at bay this was mere child's play to him already

Starting point is 03:44:56 one of the men had an ugly gash in his cheek, and the next moment saw the sergeant reeling backwards with a well-directed thrust through his right arm. But easy and exciting, as was this brilliant swordplay, it could not in the long run be of much avail. Hardly had the sergeant fallen back than three more soldiers, all so hot and furious, came rushing in to reinforce their comrades, Bathurst had in his day been counted the finest fencer in England. His wrist was as fresh and strong as the steel which he held, but the odds were beginning to accumulate against him. Five men in the shed, and the others could not be very far away. John Stitch felt his muscles nearly cracking with the vigorous effort to maintain his quiescent position and not

Starting point is 03:45:56 to come to the rescue of his hard-pressed friend. Suddenly, one of the soldiers leveled his musket. Patience saw it and gave a cry of horror. Stitch, throwing prudence to the winds, would have rushed forward to prevent this awful thing at any cost, but the sergeant, the wounded, had lost none of his zest, and his eye had been fixed on the smith. Keep back the Smith, he shouted, use your bayonets, quick. And as two of his men obeyed him, he himself threw his full weight against John, and together the three men succeeded in rendering the worthy fellow momentarily powerless. Captain, Captain, he shouted desperately, have a care. Of course, Jack had realized his danger. The group of his assailants stood out in every detail

Starting point is 03:46:55 before him, like a clear-cut, sunlit picture. But against the musket leveled at him, he could do nothing. It was Luck's chance to do him a good turn. He himself was hard-pressed by two men close to his knees. Patience felt as if her heart would cease to beat. Her impulse was to rush blindly, stupidly forward, when suddenly a piping voice, vague and uncertain, was heard above the click of Jack's sword. Don't ye let him get ye, sir, and Jock Miggs, with trembling yet determined hands, gave a vigorous tug to the coattails of the soldier, who was even now pulling the trigger of his musket. The latter, who had been aiming very deliberately for the one bright patch on Jack's person, caused by the red glow of the furnace, lost his aim. There was a loud report, and a bullet went whizzing

Starting point is 03:48:00 high above Batherd's head, and buried itself in the woodwork above him. This was the signal for a new phase of this curious and unequal struggle. The shepherds at first, knowing nothing of the cause of this quarrel, had stood open-mouthed, somewhat frightened, and awaiting events at a short distance from the scene of the scuffle. But when the chestnut horse had been led out into the open, they suddenly had an inkling as to who its owner was. Jackal Lantern, bearing the masked highwayman on his back, was well known to the poor folk on Brassing Moore. Bo Brocade, who but yesterday had left 50 guineas in the Brassington Porbock, Bo Brocade, the hero of the heath, he, to be caught by a parcel of red coats.

Starting point is 03:48:59 Never, jock-miggs but voiced the feeling of the majority. No, Noah, they shouted lustily, don't ye let em get ye, sir. Not if I can help it, friends, rejoined Bethurst in gay response. They did not resist the soldiers, not they. your Derbyshire Yokel is too cautious an individual to run absolutely counter to established authority. But they saw their friend, their helper and benefactor in trouble, and they did what they could to help him. They got in the way, jostled the soldiers when they dared, kept the attention of one or two occupied, preventing a general onslaught on the oak table, on which Bathurst, still alert, still keen,

Starting point is 03:49:53 was holding his own against such terrible odds. There's for you, my gallant lobster, quoth Jack Galey. He was standing far back on the table, entrenched between the wall on one side and the furnace on the other, and every time one of the soldiers ventured to near, his sword would dart out of the gloom. It seemed like a living creature of fire and steel. So quick and bold were his faints and parries, his sudden attacks in Quartet and Sixty, and all the while he kept one eye on the open moor, where Jackal Lantern, quivering with impatience, stood pying the ground and sniffing the keen evening air, ready to carry his master away, out upon the heath, out of sight, and out of danger. Obviously, the unequal contest could not last

Starting point is 03:50:53 much longer. Jack knew that as well as anyone. Already the red dots in the far distance had drawn considerably nearer. The next few minutes would bring this fresh reinforcement to the worried, exhausted assailants. The sergeant, too, was ready to seize his best opportunity. He still kept two men on guard over the Smith, but he soon saw that the two who were storming Bathurst's improvised Citadel were no match with their clumsy bayonets against a brilliant fencer who, moreover, had the advantage of light and shadow and of his elevated position. Though he was wounded and bleeding profusely, he had set his heart on the capture of this mysterious stranger, and having cast a glance on the open more beyond, he saw with renewed zest to more

Starting point is 03:51:53 of his men hurrying along. With all the strength he had left, he shouted to them to come on, and then turned to encourage the others. Take it easy, my man, hold out a moment longer. We've got the rebel at last. But Jack, too, had seen and understood. He would neither tired nor hurt, but two more men against him would inevitably prove his undoing. Already he could hear the shouts of the soldiers hurrying in response to their sergeant's call the next minute they would be in the forge. A sudden change of tactics led his two assailants to venture nearer than they had done hitherto. He drew back into the shadows, and they fired by the lust of capture, under the impression that he was at last exhausted, ventured nearer and

Starting point is 03:52:52 nearer still. Already they were leaning over the edge of the table. One man was thrusting at Bathurst's legs, when the latter, with a rapidity that seemed quicker than a flash of lightning, disengaged his left arm from his heavy coat, and with both hands threw it right over. over the heads of the two men. Before they had time to release themselves from its foals, Jack, with one bound, was off the table, and the next instant he had torn open the door of the furnace, and dragged out the huge iron poker with which the smith raked his fire, and with a cry of triumph, slung this new and formidable weapon high over his head. The effect of this sudden move was one of uncontrollable panic. The red-hot metal, as he swung it over

Starting point is 03:53:51 his head, dropped a far-reaching shower of burning sparks. Soldiers and sergeant all drew back instinctively, and Jack, still brandishing his weapon, reached the entrance and was out in the open before anyone dared to stop him. There he flung the great glowing thing in the the direction of his assailants, who even now were rallying to the attack. But the moment had been precious to Bathurst, and Jack Lantern was a king among horses. Without use of stirrup or rain, Jack, like the true child of the wild moor that he was, flung himself upon the beautiful creature's back. Thus, patience saw him for one brief second, framed in the doorway of the forge the last rays of the setting sun forming a background of crimson and gold for his slim,

Starting point is 03:54:51 upright figure, and the brown curls on his head. It was but a moment's vision, but one she would carry enshrined in her memory through all the years to come. His eyes, large, glowing, magnetic, met hers in a flash, and hers, bright with unshed tears, met his in the in quick response. Soldiers, he shouted as he rode away, and you think I am a rebel lord, then after me quick, whilst I ride towards the sunset. End of Chapter 14. Chapter 15 of Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Liprovoc's recording is in the public domain, recording by Dion Gine's Salt Lake City, Utah. The Outlaw. Bo-Brocade drew rain on the spur of the hill. He had galloped all the way from the forge. Out towards the sunset, then on, ever on, over gorse and bracken, on red sandy soil and soft carpet of Ling.

Starting point is 03:56:09 On, still on. Overhead on the blue-green dome of the evening sky, a giant comet made up, of myriads of tiny rose-tipped clouds formed a fairy way, ever diminishing, ever more radiant, pointing westwards to the setting sun, where orange and crimson and blue melted in one glorious mist of gold. Out far away the distant tours glowed in the evening light, like great barriers to some mystic, elusive land beyond. Jack Lantern had responded to his master's mood, the reins falling loosely on his neck, needing neither guide nor spur, save the excitement of his own mad career. He had continued his wild gallop on the heath, until a sudden jerk of the reins brought him to a standstill on the very edge of a steep declivity, with quivering flanks and sensitive nerves all a tremble,

Starting point is 03:57:20 even as the last ruddy glow died out in the western sky. One by one the myriads of rose-tipped clouds now put on their gray cloaks of evening, from the rain-soaked ground and dripping branches of bramble or fern, A blue mist was rising upwards, blending deep shadows and tender lights in one hazy monotone. Gradually every sound died out upon the heath, only from afar came intermittently the mournful booming of a solitary bittern, astray from its nest, or now and then the sudden quaking of a tuft of grass, a tremor amidst the young fronds of the bracken, there where a melancholy toad was seeking shelter for the night. Awesome, silent, majestic, the great more was at peace. The passions, the strife, the turmoil of mankind seemed far, very far away. Further than that

Starting point is 03:58:30 twinkling star, which peeped down, shy and solitary from across the rolling billows of boundless universe. Bo Brocade stretched out both arms and sighed in an agony of longing. Fire was in his veins, a burning thirst in his heart, for something he dared not define. How empty seemed his life, how wrecked, how hopelessly wasted. Yet he loved the more, the peace, the solitude. He loved the sunset on the heath and every sound of animal life in this lonesome vastness. But tonight, one smile from a woman's lips, a glow of pride in her eyes,

Starting point is 03:59:19 just one cluster of snow-white roses at her breast, and all the glories of nature in her most lavish mood seemed tame, empty, oh, unutterably poor. nay he would have bartered his very soul at this moment to undo the past few years to be once more jack bathurst of his majesty's regiment of guards before one evening's mistake ruined the whole of his life a quarrel over a game of cards a sudden blind unreasoning rage a blow against his superior officer and this same jack bass The dandy about town, the gallant, enthusiastic, promising young soldier was degraded from his military rank, and thrown, resourceless, disgraced, banished, upon a merciless world that has neither pity nor pardon for failures or mistakes. But quite unlike the young Earl of Stratton, young Bathurst indulged in no morbid self-condemnation. Fate and he had thrown the dice, and he had lost. But there was too much of the untamed devil in him, too much spirit of wild adventure to allow him to stoop to the thousand and one expedients,

Starting point is 04:00:52 the shifts, the humiliations, which the world holds in store for the broken down gentleman. Moneyless, friendless, with his career irretrievably ruined, He yet scorned the life of the outcast or the pariah of that wretched fragment of humanity that hangs on the fringe of society, envying the pleasures it can no longer share, haunting the gambling booths or noisy brothels of the towns, grateful for a nod, a handshake from some other fragment, less miserable than itself. No, a thousand times no. Jack Bathurst looked the future that was before him squarely in the face, then chose the life of the outlaw with a price upon his head, aye, and forced that life to yield to him its full measure

Starting point is 04:01:51 of delights, the rough stormy nights on the moor, the wild gallops over gorse and bramble, with the keen Norwester lashing his face and whipping up his blood. with a posse of soldiers at his heels, the devil may care, mad, merry existence of the outlaw, who cuts a purse by night and carries his life on his saddle-bow, that he chose and more, for he chose the love of the poor for miles around the blessing spoken by suffering and patient lips upon the name of the highwayman of Barbara Cade, who took to you. took from the rich, at risk of his life, in order to give to the needy. And now, at even, unbrassing more, when a lonely shepherd caught sight of a chestnut horse,

Starting point is 04:02:48 bearing a slim, masked figure on its back, or heard in the distance a young voice, fresh as a skylark, singing some half sad, half-lively ditty, he would turn his weary eyes in simple face, upwards to the stars, and murmur gently, God bless Bo Brocade. Perhaps he had. The stars knew, but they did not tell. End of Chapter 15. Chapter 16 of Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Liprovoc's recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. A recontra on the heath. Master Middichip, on his lean nag with his clerk, Master Duffy, on the pillion behind him, was on his way to Brassington. Sir Humphrey Challoner had not returned to the Moorhan

Starting point is 04:03:51 after his visit to the forge until the sun was very low down in the west. He had bidden the attorney to await him at the inn, and Master Middichip had not dared to disobey. Yet the Delay meant the crossing of the heath along the bridle path to Brassington, well after the shadows of evening, had lent the lonely moor and air of awesome desolation. There were the footpads and the pixies, the human and fairy midnight marauders, who all found the steep declivities, the clumps of gorse and bracken, the hollows and the pits, safe resting places by day, but who were wont to emerge from their lair after dark for the terror and better undoing of the unfortunate belated traveler. Then there was beau brocade. Master Duffy, too, was very timid, and clung with

Starting point is 04:04:54 trembling arms to the meager figure of the attorney. Nay, Master Duffy, quoth Mittedhip, with affected firmness. Why do you pry about so? Are you afraid? nay, nay, Master Middichip, replied the clerk, whose teeth were chattering audibly. I am not afraid. Tush, man, you have me near you, rejoined Middichip boldly. See, I am armed. Look at my pistols. And he leant back in the saddle, so as to give Master Duffy a good view of a pair of huge pistols

Starting point is 04:05:35 that protruded ostentatiously from his belt. Yet all around the air was still. The solitary heath was at peace. Even the breezy norwester that had blustered throughout the day seemed to have lain down to rest. Far out eastwards, the moon behind a fast dispersing bank of clouds, was casting a silver radiance that was not yet a light, but only a herald of the glittering radiance to come.

Starting point is 04:06:09 The moor was silent and at peace, only at times there came the sound of a gentle flutter, a moor hen perhaps, within its nest, or a belated lizard seeking its home. Whenever these slight sounds occurred, Master Mitychip's hands that held the reins, trembled visibly, and his clerk clung more close. to him. What was that? said the attorney in an odd whisper, as his frightened ears caught a more distinct noise. Why don't you draw your pistols, Master Middichip, murmured Duffy, in mad alarm. The noise was hushed again, but to the overwrought nerves of the two men in terror, there came the certain awful perception that someone was.

Starting point is 04:07:04 was on the heath besides themselves, someone not far off, whom the mist hid from their view, but who knew that they were traveling along the bridal path, who could see and perhaps hear them. Truth to tell, Master Duffy, whispered the attorney, whose teeth too had begun to chatter, truth to tell, it's no use my drying them. They are not loaded. Master Duffy nearly fell off the pillion in his fright. What? There's neither powder nor shot in them, continued Master Mitychip, ruefully. Then we are lost, was Master Duffy's ejaculation of woe.

Starting point is 04:07:52 A, what, quoth Mitychip, but your pistols are charged, and his pointed elbow sought behind it for the handles of two formidable weapons, which were stuck in Master Duffy's belt. Nay, whispered the clerk, who was now blue with terror. I dared not carry the weapons loaded. I trusted to your valor, Master Mitychip, to protect us. What was that? Again, that noise.

Starting point is 04:08:23 This time a good deal nearer, and it seemed to Master Mitychips affrighted eyes, as if he saw something moving on the bridle-peck. before him, but he would not show too many signs of fear before his own clerk. Tash, man, he said with as much boldness as he could command, tis only a lizard in the grass mayhap. We'll ride on quite boldly. We can't be far from Brassington now, and no footpads would dare to attack two lusty fellows on horseback, with pistols showing in their belt, Lord, he added, with a shudder, how lonely this place appears.

Starting point is 04:09:09 And that rascal, bow-brocade, haunts this heath every night, I'm told, murmured Master Duffy, who felt more dead than alive. Shh, shh, sh, speak not of the devil, Master Duffy, lest he appear. Hark! The two men now clung trembling to one another, not ten paces from the, them, there came the sound of a horse's snorting. Then suddenly, a voice rang out clearly through the mist-laden air. Hello, who goes there? The Lord have mercy upon us, whispered Mnichip. It must be Beau Brocade himself, echoed the clerk. The next moment a horse

Starting point is 04:09:55 and rider came into view. Master Mitychip and his clerk were too terrified even to look. The former had jerked the reins and brought his lean nag to a standstill, and both men now sat with eyes closed, teeth chattering, their very faces distorted with fear. Bo Brocade had reigned his horse quite close to them, and was peering through his black mask at the two terror-stricken faces. Evidently they amused him vastly, for he burst out laughing. Odds my life. here's a pretty pair of scarecrow's. Well, I see you can stand, so now let's see what you've got to deliver. At this Master Midditchip contrived to open his eyes for a second, but the black mask and the heavily cloaked figure looked so ghost-like, so awful in the mist, that he promptly closed them again

Starting point is 04:10:58 and murmured with a shudder. Mercy, oh noble sir, we are poor men, poor-spirited men, you mean, quoth Bo Brocade, giving the trembling figure a quick, vigorous shake. Now then, off that nag of yours, quicks the word. But even before this word of command, Master Middichip, dragging his clerk after him, had tumbled, quaking off his horse, they now stood clinging to each other. A miserable bundle. of frightened humanity. Come, said Beau Brocade, looking down with some amusement at the spectacle. I'm not going to hurt you. I never shoot at snipe, but you'll have to turn out your pockets and sharp, too, and you want to resume your journey tonight. He had seized Master Duffy by the caller. The clerk was

Starting point is 04:11:57 an all to ready pray for any highwayman, and stooping from his saddle, bow brocade had quickly extracted a leather bag from the pocket of his coat oh ho guineas as i live kind sir began duffy tremblingly now listen to me both of you said beau brocade trying to hide his enjoyment of the scene under an air of great sternness i know who you are i know what work you've been doing this afternoon extorting rents barely do from a few wretched people for your employers as hard-hearted as yourselves. Kind, sir, silence, or I shoot. Besides, twere no use to tell me lies. The people about here know me. They call me Bo Brocade. I know them and their troubles. I happen to hear, for instance, that you extracted two guineas from the widow Coggins, threatening her with a process for dilapidations unless she gave you hush money.

Starting point is 04:13:07 T was not our fault, kind sir. Then there was mistress Hattuckin, from whom you extracted 50 shillings for a new gate, which you don't intend to put up for her. And this, although she has only just buried her husband and had a baby sick at home, You put on finer heirs with the poor people than you do with me, eh? Tis not our money, sir, protested Master Middichip, humbly. Some of it goes into your own pockets. Hush money, blood money, I call it.

Starting point is 04:13:46 That's what I want from you. And then a bit over for the poor box on behalf of your employers. He weighed the leather bag which he had taken out of Master Duff. Duffy's pocket. This'll do for the poor box. Now I want the five pounds you extorted from Widow Coggins and Mistress Hattuckin. The poor women will be glad of it on the morrow. I haven't a penny more than that bagful, sir, protested Master Middichip. My employers took all the money from me, twere their rents I was collecting. I swear it, sir, kind sir, on my word. of honor, and I am an honest man. Come here. And Bo Brocade reined his horse back a few paces.

Starting point is 04:14:37 Come here, he repeated. Mittedhip was too frightened to disobey. He came forward, limping very perceptibly. Why do you walk like that? asked Bo Brocade. I'm a feeble old man and rheumatic, whined Mittedhip despondently. Then twere better to ease. the load out of your boot, friend. Sit down here and take it off. And he pointed to a piece of boulder projecting through the shallow earth. But this master midditchip seemed very loathe to do. Kind, sir, he protested again. Sit down and take off the right boot, repeated bow brocade more peremptorily, and with a gay laugh and mock-threatening gesture, he pointed the muzzle of his pistol at the terror-stricken attorney. There was not to do but to obey,

Starting point is 04:15:35 and quickly, too. Master Mitichip cursed the rascally highwayman under his breath, and even consigned him to eternal damnation, before he finally handed him up his boot. Bo Brocade turned it over, shook it, and a bag of jingling guineas fell at jackal lantern's feet. Give me that. I bag. Sir, kind sir, moaned Master Middichip, as he obediently handed up the bag of gold to his merciless assailant. Have pity. I am a ruined man. Tis Sir Humphrey challoner's money. I've been collecting it for him, and he's a hard man. Oh, said Beaubrocade, tis Sir Humphrey challoner's money, is it? Nay, you old scarecrow, tis his honor himself sent me on the heath to-night. Oh, ho, he added, whilst his merry boyish laugh went echoing through the evening air,

Starting point is 04:16:40 methinks Sir Humphrey will enjoy the joke. Do you tell him, friend, and you see him in the morn, that you've met Beau Brocade, and that he'll do his honor's bidding? He counted some of the money out of the bag and put it in his pocket. the remainder he handed back to the astonished lawyer. There, he said with sudden earnestness, I'll only make restitution to the poor whom you have robbed. You may thank your stars that an angel came down from heaven today and cast eyes of tender pity upon me so that I care not to rob you, save for those in dire want. You may mount that nag of yours now and continue your journey to Brassington.

Starting point is 04:17:33 No turning aside, remember, and answer me when I challenge your good night. Master Mitterchip and his clerk had no call to be told twice. They mounted with as much agility as their trembling limbs would allow. Truly, they considered themselves lucky, in having saved some money out of the clutches of the rogue, and did not care to speculate on the cause of their good fortune. A few minutes later, their lean horse was once more on its way, bearing its double burden. At first they had both looked back, attracted, now that their terror was gone, by the sight of that tall, youthful figure on the beautiful thoroughbred standing there on the crest of the hill, and gradually growing more and more dim in the fast-gathering mist.

Starting point is 04:18:31 The bridle path at this point dips very suddenly, and a sharp declivity leads thence, straight on to Bresington. Bowbrocade's sharp eyes, accustomed to the gloom, watched horse and riders, until the mist enveloped them and hid them from his view. Then he called loudly, Good night. And faintly echoing came the quaking reply, Good night. After that there was silence again. The outlaw was alone upon the heath once more, the heath which had been his home for so long. For him it had no cruelty and held no terror. The tall gorse and bracken on. oft sheltered him from the rain. Wrapped in his great coat, he had oft watched the tiny lizards darting to and fro in the grass, or listened to the melancholy cry of Moran or heron.

Starting point is 04:19:31 The tiny rough branches of the heather had been a warm carpet on which he had slept on lazy afternoons. The outlaw found a friend in great and lonely nature, and when he was a friend, a weary, he laid his head on her motherly breast, and like a child, found rest. End of Chapter 16. Chapter 17 of Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Libravox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. A faithful friend. How long he stood there on the spur of the hill he could not. not afterwards have told. It may have been a few seconds. Perhaps it was an eternity. During those few seconds or that eternity, the world was recreated for him. For him, it became

Starting point is 04:20:37 more beautiful than he had ever conceived it in his dreams. A woman's smile had changed it into an earthly paradise. A new and strange happiness filled his being. and set brain and sinews on fire, a happiness so great that his heart well-nigh broke with the burden of it, and the bitter longing for what could never be. The cry of a moorhan thrice repeated at intervals roused him from his dreams. John Stitch, he murmured, I wonder now what brings him out tonight, and with a final sigh of deep regret, a defiant toss of the head, bow brocade turned jackalentern's head northwards whence the cry had come. There, a rough track, scarce perceptible amongst the bracken, led straight up to the forge of John Stitch. Horse and rider knew every inch of the way,

Starting point is 04:21:44 although for the moment the fitful moon still hid her light behind a bank of clouds, and the mist now enveloped the more in a thick mantle of gloom. Soon the sensitive ears of the highwaymen, accustomed to every sound, had perceived heavy footsteps on the unbeaten track, and presently a burly figure detached itself from the darkness beyond, and came rapidly forward. Odds my life, but it's friend John, said Bobrocade, with a great show of severity. Zounds, but this is rank insubordination.

Starting point is 04:22:28 How dare you follow me on the heath, you villain, and leave your noble guest unprotected? What? His lordship is safe enough, Captain, said the Smith, who at sight of the young man had he an obvious sigh of relief, and I could not rest until I'd seen you again. Faith, you can't do that in this confounded mist, eh, John? Quoth Bathurst lightly, but his fresh young voice had softened with a quaint tenderness, whilst he looked down, smiling at the upturned face of his devoted friend. Well, what about my friend, the sergeant, and the soldiers, eh?

Starting point is 04:23:14 He added gaily. Oh, the sergeant is too sick to speak, rejoined the Smith earnestly. But the men thou, you're a rebel lord. Those that were fit walked down to Brassington directly after you left. One man, who was wounded in the arm, started for Aldwark. They've gone to get help, Captain, either more soldiers or loafers from the villages, who may be tempted by the reward. They'll scour this heath for you, from Aldwark to the crossroads, and from Brassington to Worksworth, and, and so much the better friend stitch,

Starting point is 04:23:56 for while they hunt for me, his lordship will be safe. But have a care, Captain, they're determined men now, for you've fooled them twice, be guy, but you've never been in so tight a corner before. Shaw, quoth bow brocade lightly. Life is none too precious a boon for me that I should make an effort to save it. Captain, murmured Stitch, reproachfully. There, friend John, added the young man

Starting point is 04:24:30 with that same touch of almost womanly tenderness that had endeared him to the heart of honest Stitch. There, there, have no fear for me. me, I tell thee, man, they'll not get me on this heath. Think you, the furs and bracken, the heron or peewit, would betray me? Me, their friend, not they, I am safe enough, he continued, while a strange ring of excitement made his young voice quiver. Let them after me, and leave her brother in peace.

Starting point is 04:25:07 And then, John, when he is safe, perhaps I may see her smile once more. Hey, ho, a fool am I friend, a fool I tell thee, fit for the gallows tree outside thy forge. John said nothing. He could not see Jack's face in the gloom, and did not understand his wild, mad mood, but his faithful heart ached to hear the ring of bitter longing in the voice of his friend. There was a little, a moment's pause whilst Bathurst made a visible effort to control his excitement. Then he said more calmly, Here, John, take this money, friend.

Starting point is 04:25:53 He dived in the pocket of his big, caped coat, and then placed in John's hand the two bags of money he had extracted from Master Middichip and his clerk. I've just got it from a blood-sucking agent of Sir Humpherson. free challeners tis money wrung from poor people who can ill afford it i i quoth john with a sigh i want two guineas to go to mistress haddakin who has just lost her husband the poor wretch is nigh to starving then thirty shillings are for the widow coggins up hardington way those blood-suckers took her last shilling yesterday wilt seed to it for friend John? Aye, aye, the rest is for the poor box at Aldwark this time. Perhaps there'll be more before the morn. Captain, hush, don't begin to lecture, John, said Beau Brocade, with curious earnestness, I tell thee, friend, there's madness in my veins tonight. I pray thee, go back home and leave me to

Starting point is 04:27:07 myself. Don't send me away, Captain, pleaded John. I am uneasy and dear, kind, faithful John, murmured Bathurst, zounds, but I'm an ungrateful wretch, for I vow thou dost love me, friend. You know I do, Captain, I'd give, nay, nothing interrupted Jack quickly, give me nothing but that love of thine friend. It is more precious than life. But I pray thee, let me be tonight. I swear to thee, I'll do no harm. I'll see thee in the morn, John. I'll be safe, never fear. John Stitch sighed. He knew that further protest was useless. Already, Beau Brocade had turned Jackal Lantern's head once more towards the crest of the hill. The Smith waited a while, listening while he could to the sound of the horse's hooves on the rain-sauden earth.

Starting point is 04:28:12 His honest heart was devoured with anxiety, both for his friend and for the brave young lady who was journeying townwards tonight. Suddenly, it seemed to him, as if far away, he could hear the creaking of wheels on the distant Worksworth Road. The air was so still that presently he could hear it quite distinctly. Twas her ladyship's coach, no doubt, plying its slow, wearying way along the quaggy road. It would be midway to the little town by now.

Starting point is 04:28:50 The narrow track on which John stood cut the road at right angles about a mile and a half away. The Smith took to blaming himself that he had kept her ladyship's journey a secret from Beau Brocade. The latter was a monarch on the heath. He would have kept footpads at bay, watched and guarded the coach, and seen it mayhap, safely as far as Worksworth. Never for a moment did the slightest fear cross the Smith's mind that the notorious highwayman would stop Lady Patience's

Starting point is 04:29:31 coach. Still, a warning would not have come amiss. Perhaps it was not too late. The road wound in and out a good deal, skirting bogland or massive boulders. John hoped that on the path he might yet come across Jackal-Lantern and his master before they had met the coach. He started to run and had covered nearly a mile when suddenly he heard a shout, which made his honest heart almost stop in its beating, a shout followed by two pistol shots in rapid succession. The shout had rung out clear and distinct in the fresh, lusty voice of Bobrocade, stand and deliver. John dared not think what the pistol shots had meant, with elbows now pressed to his sides, he began running at a wild gallop along the rough, unbeaten track, towards the point

Starting point is 04:30:33 whence shots and shout had come. End of Chapter 17. Chapter 18 of Bow Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Libravox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dion Gines, Salt Lake City, Utah. Moonlight on the heath. The jolting of the carriage along the quaggy road had been well-nigh unendurable. Mistress Betty was groaning audibly, but Lady Patience, with her fair head resting against the cushions, was forgetting all bodily ailments, whilst absorbed in mental visions that flitted, swift, and ever-changing, before her excited brain. There was the dear brother in peril of his life, his young face looking wan

Starting point is 04:31:34 and anxious. Then Sir Humphrey Challoner, the man she instinctively, unreasonably dreaded, and John Stitch, the faithful retainer, brave and burly, guarding his Lord's life with his own. These faces and figures wandered ghostlike before her eyes, and then vanished, leaving before her mental vision, but one form and face, a pair of merry, deep-set gray eyes that at times looked so inexpressibly sad, a head crowned with a mass of unruly curls, a figure, lithe, and active, sitting upon a chest-nut horse, and riding away towards the sunset. It was a pleasant picture. No wonder patience allowed her mind to dwell on it, and in fancy to hear that full-toned voice, either in lively song or gay repartee, or at times with that ring of tenderness in it, which had brought the tears of pity to her eyes.

Starting point is 04:32:46 The hours sped slowly on. The comfort. The comforts. vehicle jostled onwards, plunging and creaking, whilst Thomas urged the burdened horses along. Suddenly a jerk, more vigorous than before, roused patience from her half-wakeful dreams. The heavy coach had seemed to take a plunge on its side. There was fearful creaking and much swearing from the driver's box, a shout or two, panting efforts on the part of the horses, and finally the vehicle came to a complete standstill. Mistress Betty had started up in alarm. Led preserve us, she shouted, putting a very sleepy head out of the carriage window.

Starting point is 04:33:37 What's the matter now, Thomas? We be stuck in a quagmire, muttered the latter worthy, vainly trying to smother more forcible language, out of respect for her ladyship's presence. Timothy, the groom, had dismounted. Lantthorn in hand, he was examining the cause of the catastrophe. Get the other Lanshorn Thomas, he shouted to the driver, and come and give me a hand, else we'll have to spend the night on this God-forsaken heath. Is it serious, Timothy? queried Lady Patience anxiously. I hope not, my lady, the axle is caked with mud on this side, and we do seem stuck in some kind of morass.

Starting point is 04:34:25 But if Thomas will hurry himself, the latter, with many more suppressed oaths, had at last got down from his box, and had brought a second lanthorn round to the back of the coach, where Timothy had already started scraping shovelfuls of inky mud, from the axle of the off-wheel. It was at this moment, and when the two men were intent upon their work, that a voice, loud and distinct, suddenly shouted behind them, stand and deliver. Thomas, who was of a timorous disposition, dropped the lanthorn he held, and in his fright knocked over the other, which was on the ground. He was a man of peace, and knew from past experience that tis safer not to resist these gentlemen of the roads when therefore the highwayman's well-known challenge rang out in the night he threw up both hands in order to testify to his peaceful intentions But Timothy, who was younger and more audacious, drew a couple of pistols from his belt,

Starting point is 04:35:43 and at all hazards fired them off, one after the other. In the direction whence had come the challenge, the next moment he felt a vigorous blow on his wrists, and the pistols flew out of his hand. Hands up, or I shoot. Thomas was already on his knees, Timothy thus disarmes, thought it more prudent to follow suit. From within the coach could be heard Mistress Betty's shrill and terrified voice, nay, nay, your ladyship shall not go, followed by her ladyship's peremptory command. Silence, child, let me go. Stay you within, and you are afraid. There was a moment, silence,

Starting point is 04:36:32 for at sound of her voice, Bobro Cade had said, started, then he leaned forward on his horse, listening with all his might, wondering if indeed his ears had not misled him, if twas not a dream voice that came to him out of the gloom. Have I the honor of addressing Lady Rounce? He murmured mechanically. At this moment the darkness which up to now had been intense began slowly to give place to a faint silvery light. The moon, pale and hazy, tried to pierce the mist that still enveloped her, as with a cold blue mantle, and one by one tipped blackthorn and gorse with a cluster of shimmering

Starting point is 04:37:22 diamonds. Like a ghostly panorama, the heath revealed its thousand beauties, its many mysteries, the deep dark tangle of bramble and ling. which hide the gnomes and ghouls the tiny blue cups of the harebells wherein the pixies have their home. The fairy rings in the grass where the sprites dance their wild sarabond on nights such as this, with the crickets to play the tunes and the glow-worms to light them in their revels. But to bow-brocade the dim radiance of the moon, shy and golden, through her of mist only revealed one great, one wonderful picture, that of his dream made real, of his heavenly vision come down to earth, the picture of her stepping out of the coach that she might

Starting point is 04:38:21 speak to him. She came forward quickly, and the hood flew back from her face. She was looking at him with a half-puzzled, half-haughty expression in her eyes, and the hood, and the hood flew back from her face. She was looking at him, with a half-puzzled, half-haughty expression in her eyes, and Bobrocade thought he had never seen eyes that were so deeply blue. He murmured her name. The Lady Patience. Nay, sir, since you know my name, she said, with a quaint, almost defiant toss of her small, graceful head. I pray you, whoever you may be, to let me depart in peace.

Starting point is 04:38:59 See, she added, holding a heavy purse. out to him. I have brought you what money I have. Will you take it and let me go? But he dared not speak. He longed to turn jackal lantern's head and to gallop away quickly out of her sight before she had recognized him and learned that the man on whom she had looked with such tender pity and with such glowing admiration was the highway robber, the outlaw. the notorious thief yet so potent was the spell of her voice the moist shimmer of her lips the depth and glitter of her blue eyes that he felt as if iron fetters held him fast to the ground there enchained before her until at least she should speak again he dismounted and she stepped a little closer to him so close now that had he stretched out his hand, he might have touched her cloak, or even those white fingertips, which, believe me, sir, she said a little impatiently, seeing that he did not speak,

Starting point is 04:40:15 I give you all I have freely, and you molest me no more. I have urgent, very urgent business in London, which brooks of no delay, kindly allow my men to go free. She was pleading now, All the haughtiness vanished from her face. Her voice, too, shook perceptibly. The tall, silent figure before her was beginning to frighten her. Yet he dared not trust himself to speak, lest by a word he should dispel this dream, this golden vision of paradise that heaven had so unaccountably sent to him this night. It might vanish again amiss the stars and leave the stars.

Starting point is 04:41:02 the poor outlaw, to his loneliness. This moment was so precious, so wonderful. Madly, he longed for the godlike power to stop time in its relentless way, to make sun, moon, and stars, the earth and all eternity, pause a while, whilst he looked upon her as she stood there with the pleading look in her eyes, the honey-colored moon above, throwing a dim, and flickering light upon her upturned face, her golden hair. That tiny hand stretched out to him. She seemed to wait for his reply, and at last, in a low voice, which he tried to disguise, he murmured, Madam, I entreat you, have no fear. Believe me, I would sooner never see the sunset again than cause you even one short moment's anxiety.

Starting point is 04:42:02 Again, that quaint-puzzled look came into her eyes. She looked at the black mask that hid his face, as if she would penetrate the secret which it kept. Will you not take this purse? she asked. Nay, I will not take the purse, fair lady, he said, still speaking very low, but I would feign, and you would permit it. Hold but for one instant your hand in mine. will you not let me? The impulse was irresistible, the desire to hold her hand so strong that he had no power to combat it. She seemed puzzled, and not a little frightened, but neither haughty nor resentful

Starting point is 04:42:48 at his presumption. Perhaps she felt the influence of the mystery which surrounded the dark, cloaked figure before her, or the more subtle spell of the mist-covered moon. She made no movement towards him. Her hand which he craved to hold had dropped to her side. There was magic in the vast stillness of the moor on each dew-tipped point of gray-green gorse from every frond of emerald bracken. There glistened a tiny crystal. Timothy and Thomas had retreated. to a safer position, out of sight, behind the huge vehicle, and inside the coach, Betty, was cowering in terror. They stood alone, these two, away from all the world, in a land all their own, a land of dreams, of poetry, and romance, where men died for a look from women's eyes

Starting point is 04:43:48 and conquered the universe for a smile. How silent was the heath, while he looked at at her, and she returned his gaze, half-trembling, wholly puzzled. Will you not let me? He pleaded. And instinctively, his voice trembled in the pleading, and there came back to her mind the memory of this same voice, young and tender, as she had heard it in the forge. But she would not let him know that she had guessed. Sir, she said with sudden unaccountable shyness, you have always always

Starting point is 04:44:24 overpowered my men. They are but loudish cowards, and you are heavily armed. I am a defenseless woman. How can I refuse if you command? He took the pistols from his belt and laid them on the ground at her feet. Nay, fair lady, he said, there is no question of command. See, I am unarmed now, and your men are free. give them the word and I'll not stir hand or foot till you have worked your will with me. You see, tis I am at your mercy, yet I still crave to hold your hand for one moment in mine. For one second more, she hesitated, not because she was afraid, but because there was a subtle sweetness in this moment of suspense, a delicious feeling of expectant. for the joy that was to come. Then she gave him her hand. Why, how it trembles, he said, like some tiny frightened bird. See how white it looks in my rough brown hand. You are not afraid.

Starting point is 04:45:40 Afraid? Oh no, but—but the hour is late. I pray you, let me depart. I must not, Terry, for so much depends upon my journey. I pray you. I pray you. you let me go. No, no, don't go, he pleaded, clinging to the little hand whose cool touch had made his very senses real. Don't go, not just yet. See how glorious is the moon above those distant hills, and the mist-laden air, which makes your hair glisten with a thousand diamonds. Whilst I, poor fool holding your cool white hand in mine, stand here gazing on a vision that whispers to me of things which can never, never be. No, no, don't go just yet. Let the moon hide her light once more behind the mist. Let the heath sink into darkness. Let me live in my dream one moment longer.

Starting point is 04:46:43 It will be dispelled all too soon. He had spoken so low, she said, scarce could hear, but she could feel his hand scorching hers with its fever heat, and when he ceased speaking, she heard a sigh like a sob, a sigh of bitter longing, of hopeless regret that made her heart ache with a new pain, which was greater, more holy than pity. A strange excitement seemed to pervade him. Madness was in his veins. He longed to sees her to lift her up on jackal lanterns back and gallop away with her over the moor, far, far out beyond Bracken and Heather, over those distant tours, on, on to the mountains of the moon, to the valley of the shadows, she lying passive in his arms, whilst he looked forever

Starting point is 04:47:41 into the clear blue depths of her eyes. Perhaps she too felt this excitement. gradually creeping over her. She tried to withdraw her hand, but he would not let it go. To her also there came the sense of unreality, of a vision of dreamland, wherein no one dwelt but she and this one man, where no sound came save that of his voice, rugged and tender, which brought tears of joy and pity to her eyes. In the grass at her feet a cricket began to chirp, and suddenly from a little distance there came the quaint, sweet sound of a shepherd's pipe playing an old-time rigadoon. Hark! she whispered, the sound came nearer and nearer. She loved to hear the faint, elusive echo, the fairy accompaniment to her own dreamlike mood. What a sweet, sweet,

Starting point is 04:48:43 tune, she murmured, as instinctively her foot began tapping the measure on the ground. I mind it well. How oft have I danced to it beneath the maypole? Will you then dance it with me to-night? Nay, sir, you do but jest. But his excitement was at fever point now. The outlaw at least could work his will upon this heath, of which he alone was king. He could not carry her away on jackal lanterns back, but he could make her stay with him a little longer, dance with him here in the moonlight, her hand in his, his arm at times round her waist in the mazes of the dance, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright, her breath panting, I, for she should feel too that reckless fire that scorched him.

Starting point is 04:49:40 All the fierce, untamed blood in him ran like molten lava in his veins. I, for one more brief half-hour he, the lonely dweller on the moor, the pariah, the outcast, would taste the joys of the gods. I was never more earnest in my life, he vowed, with that gay, mad, merry laugh of his, a dance with you here in the moonlight. I, a dance in the midst. I, a dance in the midst. of my dreams. But indeed, indeed, sir, she pleaded, the hour is late, and my business in London is very urgent. Nay, ten minutes for this dance will not much delay your journey, and I swear by your sweet eyes that after that you shall go unmolested. But if I refuse, and you refuse, he said bending the knee before her and bowing humbly at her feet.

Starting point is 04:50:40 I will entreat you on my knees. And if I still refuse, she murmured, then I will uproot the trees, break the carriage that bears you away, tear up the heath, and murder yon knaves. God in heaven only knows what I would not do, and you refuse. No, no, sir, I pray you, she said, alarmed at his vehemence, puzzled, fascinated, carried away by his wild, reckless mood, and the potent spell of the witching moon. Nay, how can I refuse? I am in your power, and must do as you bid me, and you really wish for a dance.

Starting point is 04:51:26 She allowed him to lead her away to a short distance off the beaten track, there where a carpet of ling and grass and walls of bramble and gorse formed a ballroom, for gods and goddesses to dance in. At the further end of this clearing, the quaint shrivelled figure of Jock-Miggs the shepherd had just come into view. At a little distance to the left and close to the roadside, there was a small wooden shed, and beyond it a pen used by the shepherds as a shelter on rough nights when tending their sheep on the heath. For the moment, the pen was empty, and Jock Miggs was evidently making his way to the hut for a few hours' sleep, and had been playing his pipe for the sake of company. I, a dance here, said Beaubrocade, with the moon and stars

Starting point is 04:52:27 to light us, a shepherd to play the tune, and the sprites that haunt the heath for company. What, ho, there, friend, shepherd, he shouted to Miggs. The worthy chalk caught sight of the two figures standing in the center of the clearing, not twenty paces away from him. Ludd have mercy upon me, he gasped, robbery, violence, murder. Nay, friend, only merry-making, quoth bow-brocade gaily, we want to dance upon this heath, and you to play the tune, us. A, what? muttered the shepherd in his vague, apologetic way, dancing at this hour of the night, I and me to play for a parcel of mad folk. Well, said, honest shepherd, let us all be mad tonight, but you shall play for us, and here, here is the wherewithal to set your pipe in tune.

Starting point is 04:53:29 He threw a heavy purse across to Miggs, who, still muttering something about lunatics on the heath, slowly stooped and picked it up. Guinea's, he muttered, weighing it in his hand. Guinea's as I live. Guinness for playing a dance tune. Nay, sir, you're mad. Sure enough. Wilt play the tune, Shepherd, shouted Bo Brocade in wild impatience.

Starting point is 04:53:58 Jock Miggs shook his head with a determined air. Nay, your madness is not. to me, you've paid for a tune, and you shall have the tune, but Lordy, Lordy, these be amazing times. He settled himself down on a clump of grass-covered earth, and stolidly began piping the same old-time rigadoon. These were a pair of lunatics for sure, but since the gentleman had paid for this extraordinary pleasure, twas not for a poor shepherd to refuse to earn a few honest guineas. Bo Brocade bowed to his lady, with all the courtly grace of a town gallant. Madam, your most humble and most obedient servant. As in a dream, patience began to tread the

Starting point is 04:54:49 measure. It was all so strange, so unreal. Surely this was a dream, and she would soon wake anon. She turned and twisted in the mazes of the dance. Gradually, the intoxication of it all had reached her brain. She seemed to see round her in the grass, pixie faces gazing curiously upon her. All the hair bells seemed to tinkle. The shepherd's pipe sounded like fairy bells. Through the holes in the black mask, she could see a pair of burning eyes watching her as if entranced. She felt like a creature of some other world, a witch mayhap, dancing a wild

Starting point is 04:55:36 cereband with this man, her lord and master, a mad merry sprite who had arranged this moonlight Sabbath. Her cheeks began to glow. Her eyes were sparkling with the joy of this dance. Her breath came panting through her parted lips. I, mad, were they both? What a lot? What else. Their madness was the intoxication which man alone can feel when his joy equals that of the gods. Quicker, shepherd, quicker. Let thy pipe wake all the fairy echoes of this mystic, ghost-like more. Let all the ghouls and gnomes come running hither. Let the stars pale with envy. Let fairies and sprites clap their hands for joy. Since one man in all this world was happier than all the spirits in heaven. How long it lasted neither of them could tell.

Starting point is 04:56:36 The honey-colored moon lighted them all the while. The blue mist wrapped them as in a mystic veil. Still they danced on. At times she almost lay in his arms, hot panting, yet never weary. Then she would slip away, and with eyes aglow, cheeks, in rosy flame, beckoned to him, evade, advance, then once more put her hand in his, and madden him with the touch. Oh, that heaven-born hour, why did it ever cease? A wild shriek, twice repeated, brought them both to a standstill. She, with heart beating and hand-pressed to her panting bosom, was unable to stir, whilst the excitement kept her. up, she had danced. But now, with that piercing shriek, the dream had vanished, and she was back

Starting point is 04:57:36 on earth once more. What was that? Thomas and Timothy, attracted by the strange spectacle, had gradually crept up to the clearing, and through a clump of gorse and bracken had been watching the weird midnight dance. On the further side, and close to Jock Miggs, John Stitch had been standing in the shadow of a thornbush. He had been running all the way ever since he heard the two pistol shots. Amazed at the strange sight that met his honest eyes, he had not dared to interfere. Perhaps his honest, faithful heart felt with, even if it did not altogether comprehend, the wayward half-crazy mood of his friend. Betty alone, terrified and not a little sulky, and not a little sulky, had remained in the coach. It was her shriek that roused the spectators and performers of this

Starting point is 04:58:35 fantasy on the heath. My lady, my lady, screamed Betty once more at the top of her voice. Then all of a sudden patience understood. Fairyland had indeed vanished. The awful reality came upon her with appalling cruelty. My letters, she gasped and started running towards. the coach. But already Jack Bathurst had bounded across the clearing, closely followed by John Stitch. Patience's cry of mad, terror-stricken appeal had gone straight to his brain, and dissipated in the fraction of a second, the reckless excitement of the past hour. The wild creature of one moment's wayward mood was in that same fraction of time re-transformed into the cool and daring dweller of the moor, on whose head the law had set a price, and who, in revenge, had made every

Starting point is 04:59:37 law his slave. His keen, quick eye, had already cited the smith. After me, John, he commanded, and run for your life. When the two men had fought their way through the clumps of gorse and Bracken, which screened the clearing from the road, they were just in time to see a man quickly mounting a dark brown horse, which stood some 20 yards in front of the coach. The carriage door nearest to them was open, and poor Mistress Betty lay on the ground close beside it, still screaming at the top of her voice. With one bound, Beau Brocade had reached Jackal Lantern, who, accustomed to his unfettered life on the heath, had quietly roamed about at will, patiently waiting for his master's call. The young man was unarmed, since he had placed his pistols

Starting point is 05:00:34 a while ago at patience's feet. But Jackal Lantern was swift-footed as the deer, and would overtake any strange horseman easily. Bo Brocade's hand was on his horse's bridle, and there were barely a few yards between him and the mysterious horseman who was preparing to gallop away when the latter turned and suddenly pointing a pistol at his pursuer fired two shots in rapid succession. The young man did not stop at once. He clutched Jackalenturn's bridle and tried to mount, but he staggered and almost fell. After him, John, he cried in. He cried, in a horse voice, as staggering once more, he fell upon one knee. After him, quick, take Jackalenturn, don't mind me. Jack had no need to be told twice. He seized the horse's bridle, and swung himself

Starting point is 05:01:35 into the saddle as quickly as he could. But these few seconds had given the horsemen a sufficient start. Although the moon was bright, the mist was thick, and the bracken and thorn bushes very dense on the other side of the road. Already he had disappeared from view, and John's ears and eyes were not so keen as those of Bo Brocade, the highwaymen, the wounded monarch of the heath. End of Chapter 18. Chapter 19 of Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Lipervox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. His oath. Patience's first thought as soon as she reached the road was for Betty. She helped the poor girl to her feet and tried to get some coherent explanation from her.

Starting point is 05:02:41 I was listening to the tune, my lady, and leaning my head out of the window, moaned Mistress Betty, who was more frightened than hurt. When suddenly the carriage door was torn open, I was dragged out and left screaming on the ground, that's all I know. But one glance at the interior of the coach had revealed the whole awful truth. It had been ransacked, and the receptacle beneath the cushions, where had lain the all-important letters, was now obviously empty. The letters, oh, the letters, moaned patience in an agony of misery and remorse. Philip, my dear, dear one, you entrusted your precious life in my hands,

Starting point is 05:03:35 and I have proved unworthy of the trust. Her spirit wholly broken by the agony of this cruel thought, she cowered on the step of the carriage. Her head buried in her hands in a passion of heart-broken tears. My lady, she looked down, and by the dim light of the moon, she saw a figure on its knees, dragging itself with a visibly painful effort slowly towards her. In a moment she was on her feet, tall, haughty, a world of scorn in her eyes. She looked down with horror at the prostrate figure before her. Nay, sir, she said with icy contempt, and you have a spark of honor left in you.

Starting point is 05:04:28 Take off that mask. Let me at least see who you are. The agony of shame was more than she could bear. she who had deemed herself so proud, so strong, that she should have been thus fooled, duped, tricked, and by this man, this thief, this low-class robber, who had dared to touch her hand, all the pride of race and caste rose in revolt within her. Who was he that he should dare to have spoken to her as he did? cheeks glowed with shame at the memory of that voice which she had loved to hear the tender accent in it,

Starting point is 05:05:16 and oh, she had been his plaything, his tool for this infamous trick which had placed her dear, dear brother's life in peril worse than before. Meekly he had obeyed her, his own proud spirit bent before her grief. His face, as she pale now, and drawn with pain and weakness, looked up in mute appeal for forgiveness. A poor wretch, he murmured feebly, whose mad and foolish whim. But she turned from him in bitter loathing, drawing herself up to her full height, trying by every means in her power to show the contempt which she felt for him. So absorbed was she in her grief and humiliation, in her agony of remorse for her broken trust,

Starting point is 05:06:16 that she did not realize that he was hurt and fainting with loss of blood. You, you, she murmured with horror and contempt. Nay, I pray you do not speak to me. you you have duped and tricked me and i i oh she added with a wealth of bitter reproach what wrong had i or my dear brother done to you that you should wish to do him so much harm what price had his enemies set upon his head that you should sell it to them he tried to interrupt her for her words hurt him 10,000 times more than the wound in his shoulder. With almost superhuman effort, he dragged himself to his feet, clinging to the bracken to hold himself upright. He would not let her see how she made him suffer. She, his beautiful white rose, whom unwittingly he had, it seemed, so grievously wronged. Her mind was distraught. She did.

Starting point is 05:07:31 not understand, and, oh, it was impossible that she could realize the cruelty of her words, more hard to endure than any torture the fiendish brain of man could devise. I'd have given you gold, she continued, whilst heavy sobs choked the voice in her throat. If twas gold you wanted, here is the purse you did not take just now. 200 guineas for you, sir, and you bring me back those letters. And with a last gesture of infinite scorn, she threw the purse on the ground before him. A cry escaped him then, the terrible heart-rending cry of the wild beast wounded unto death. But it was momentary. That great love he bore her helped him to understand. Love is never selfish.

Starting point is 05:08:31 always kind. Love always understands. He could scarcely speak now, and the seconds were very precious, but with infinite gentleness he contrived to murmur faintly. Madam, I swear by those sweet lips of yours now turned in anger against me that you do me grievous wrong. My fault, alas, is great. I cannot deny it, since in this short, mad hour of the dance, my eyes were blind, and mine ears deaf to all save to your own dear presence. I, t'was a clever trick, she retorted, lashing herself, to scorn, willfully deaf to the charm of that faint voice, turning away from the tender appeal of his eyes. A trick from beginning to end, your chivalry at the forge, your role of gallant gentlemen of the road,

Starting point is 05:09:35 the while you plotted with a boon companion to rob me of the very letters that would have saved my brother's life. Letters that would have saved your brother's life? What letters? Nay, sir, I pray you fool me no further. Heaven only knows. how you learned our secret, for I'll vouch that John Stitch was no traitor. Those letters were stolen, sir, by your accomplice, whilst you tricked me into this dance. He pulled himself together with a vigorous effort of will, forcing himself to speak quietly and firmly, conquering the faintness and dizziness, which was rapidly overpowering him. Adam, he said gently, dare I hope that you will believe me when I say that I know not of those

Starting point is 05:10:34 letters. John Stitch, as you know, is loyal and true. Not even to me would he have revealed your secret. Nay, more, it seems that I, too, have been tricked to further a villain's ends. Will you not try and believe that had I known what those letters were, I would have guarded them for your sweet sake with my last dying breath. She did not reply, for the moment she could not, for her tears choked her, and there was the magic of that voice which she could not resist. Still, she would not look at him. Sir, she said a little more calmly, heaven has given you. a gentle voice and the power of tender words, with which to cajole women, I would wish to believe you, but she was interrupted by the sound of voices, those of Thomas and Timothy, her men, who had kept

Starting point is 05:11:40 a lookout for John Stitch. The next moment the Smith himself, breathless and panting, came into view. He had ridden hard for jackal lantern's fling. were dripping with sweat, but there was a look of grave disappointment on the honest man's face. Well, queried Beau Brocade excitedly as soon as John had dismounted. I'm feared that I've lost the scoundrel's track, muttered John ruefully. No, at first I was in hot pursuit, he galloping towards Brassington. Suddenly he seemed to draw rain, and the next moment a riderless horse came tearing past me, and then disappeared in the direction of Aldwark. A riderless horse. I, I thought at first,

Starting point is 05:12:36 that maybe he'd been thrown. I scoured the heath for half a mile around, but the mist was so thick in the hollow, and there was not a sound I'd have needed. I'd have needed, a bloodhound to track the rascal down. An exclamation of intense disappointment escaped from the lips of Lady Patience and of Bo Brocade. Do you know who it was, John? queried the latter. No doubt of that, Captain, it was Sir Humphrey Challoner right enough. Sir Humphrey Challoner cried patience in accents of hopeless despair. The man who covets my fortune now holds my brother's life in the hollow of his hand. Excitedly, defiantly, she once more turned to Beau Brocade.

Starting point is 05:13:30 Nay, sir, she said, and you wish me to believe that you had no part in this villainy? Get those letters back for me from Sir Humphrey Chaloner. He drew himself up to his full height. His pride, at least, was equal to her own. Madam, I swear to you, he began. He staggered and would have fallen, but faithful stitch was nigh and caught him in his arms. You are hurt, Captain, he whispered, a world of anxiety in his kindly eyes. Nay, nay, murmured Bo brocade faintly, tis nothing. Help me up, John, I have something to say, and must say it standing. But nature,

Starting point is 05:14:18 at last would have her will with him. The wild, brave spirit that had kept him up all this while was like to break at last. He fell back dizzy and faint against faithful John's stout breast. Then only did she understand and realize she saw his young face, once so merry and boyish, now pale with a hue almost of death. She saw his once laughing eyes, now dimmed, with the keenness of his suffering. Her woman's heart went out to him. She loathed herself for her cruelty. Her heart overburdened with grief nearly broke at the thought of what she had done. You are hurt, sir, she said as she bent over him, her eyes swimming in tears, and I, I knew it not. The spell of her voice brought his wandering spirit back to earth and to her. I hurt, sweet dream, he murmured feebly, deeply wounded

Starting point is 05:15:28 by those dear lips, which spoke such cruel words, but for the rest tis not. See, he added, trying to raise himself and stretching a yearning hand towards her. The moon has hid her face behind that veil of mist, and I can no longer see the glory of your hair. My eyes are dim, or is it that the heath is dark? I would fain see your blue eyes once again. By the tender memory of my dream born this autumn afternoon, I swear, sweet lady, that your brother's life shall be safe. Whilst I have one drop of blood left in my veins, I will protect him. With trembling hand, he sought the white rose, which still lay close to her breast. She allowed him to take it, and he pressed it to his lips. Then with a final effort,

Starting point is 05:16:28 he drew himself up once more, and said loudly and clearly, By this dear token, I swear that I will get those letters back for you before the sun has risen twice over our green-clad hills. Sir, I tell me but once that you believe me and I will have the strength that moves the mountains. I believe you, sir, she said simply, I believe you absolutely. then place your dear hand in mine, he whispered, and trust in me. And the last thought of which he was conscious was of her cool, white fingers, grasping his fevered hand. Then the poor aching head fell back on John's shoulder. The burning eyes were closed. Kindly nature had taken the outlaw to her breast and spread her beneficent mantle of oblivion over his weary senses at last. End of Chapter 19. Chapter 20 of

Starting point is 05:17:43 Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Libravox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. A thrilling narrative. Mr. Inch, Beatle of the parish of Brassington was altogether in his element, dressed in his gold-laced coat, bob-tailed wig, and three-cornered hat, his fine calves encased in the widest of cotton stockings, his buckled shoes, veritable mirrors of shiny brilliancy, he was standing, wand of office in hand, outside the door of the tiny courthouse,

Starting point is 05:18:29 where Colonel West, Squire of Brassie, was sitting in judgment on the poachers and footpads of the neighborhood. Before Mr. Inch stood no less a person than Master Middichip, attorney at law. Master Middichip desired to speak with Squire West, and the pompous beetle was in the proud position of standing between this presumptuous desire and the supreme majesty of the law. Them's my orders, sir, he said, with all the solemnity which this extraordinary event demanded. Them's my orders. Squire West's own orders. Inch, he says to me, my name being Jeremiah Inch, sir.

Starting point is 05:19:19 Inch, he says, the odors which perambulate the courtroom. And mind ye, sir, he didn't use such. polite language either. The odors is more than I can endurate this hot morning. As a matter of fact, sir, truth compelates me to state that Squire West's own words were, Inch, this room stinks like hell, too many sweating yokels about. Then he gave me his orders. The room is too fool as it is. Don't admit anyone else on any pretext. or cause whatsoever. Master Midditchip had made various misguided efforts to interrupt Mr. Inch's wonderful flow of eloquence. It was only when the worthy beetle paused to take breath that the

Starting point is 05:20:15 attorney got in a word edgewise. Harky, my good man, he began impatiently. I am extraordinarily grieved, sir, interrupted Master Inch, who had not nearly finished, taking into consideration that I am somewhat dubresum, whether what his honor said about the odors could apply individually to you, but orders is orders, sir, and the squire as a legal luminosity must be obeyed in all things. Mr. Inch heaved a deep sigh of satisfaction. It was not often, that he had the opportunity of showing off his marvelous eloquence and wonderful flow of language before so distinguished a gentleman as Master Middichip, attorney at law. But the latter seemed not to appreciate the elegance of the worthy Beatles' diction. On the contrary, he had throughout

Starting point is 05:21:19 shown signs of the greatest impatience, and now directly Mr. inch heaved this one sigh, Master Middichip produced a silver half-crown, and toying with it in apparent indifference, said significantly, I am sure, friend Beatle, that if you were to acquaint Squire West, that his honor, Sir Humphrey Challoner, desired to speak with him. Mr. Inch stroked his fat, clean-shaven chin, and eyed the silver half-crown with an anxious air. Ah, perhaps, he suggested with as much dignity as the new circumstance allowed. Perhaps if I did so far contravene my orders. I feel that Sir Humphrey would see fit to reward you, suggested the attorney, still idly fingering that tempting half-crown. But Master Inch was still dubrisome. But then you understand, he said,

Starting point is 05:22:26 It is against the regulations that I should vacuate my post until after the sitting is over. So Sir Humphrey Challoner is partaking of breakfast at the Royal George Master Inch. He would wish Squire West to know that he'll attend on him here in half an hour. Master Inch closed one eye, and with the other, keenly watched Master Middichips movements. The attorney turned the half-crown over in his lean hand once or twice, then he made as if he would put it back in his pocket. This decided the Beatle, I'll go and reconnoiter ate, he said, and perhaps I can dispatch a menial to impart to the squire.

Starting point is 05:23:18 Sir Humphrey's wishes, and cognomen. Thus, the majestic beetle felt that his dignity had not been impaired, with a magnificent turn of his portly person, and an imposing flourish of his wand of office, he disappeared within the precincts of the court. Master Midditchip slipped the half-crown back in his pocket, and did not wait for the Beatles' return. He was quite sad. He was quite satisfied that Sir Humphrey's wishes would be as seated to. He turned his back on the courthouse and slowly crossed the green. Opposite to him was the Royal George, where he and Master Duffy had put up for the night. In the small hours of the morning, he had been aroused from peaceful slumbers by a great disturbance at the inn. Sir Humphrey Challoner booted and spurred,

Starting point is 05:24:17 but alone, on foot, and covered with mud, was peremptorily demanding admittance. Since then, Master Mitterchip had had an interview with his employer, wherein his honor had expressed the desire to speak with Squire West after he, himself, had partaken of late breakfast. That interview had been a very brief one, but it had sufficed to show to the lean attorney that Sir Humphrey's temper was none of the best this morning. His honor had desired Master Middichip's presence again, and the latter was now making his way slowly back to the Royal George, his knees quaking under him, his throat dry, and his tongue parched with terror. Sir Humphrey challoner

Starting point is 05:25:10 was not pleasant to deal with when his temper was up. The attorney found his honor. The attorney found his honor installed at breakfast in the private parlor of the inn, and consuming large mugs full of ale, and several rashes of fried bacon. Well, queried Sir Humphrey impatiently, as soon as the attorney's lean, bird-like face appeared in the doorway. I sent word to his honor, Squire West, explained the latter, coming forward timidly, saying that you would wish to see him at the courthouse in half an hour, and unless your honor would wish me to speak to the squire for you, no, rejoined his honor curtly. S-death, don't stand there fidgeting before me, he added, sit down. Master Mitychip meekly obeyed. He selected the straightest chair in the room,

Starting point is 05:26:10 placed it as far away from his honor as he could, and sat down on the extraditchie. extreme edge of it. Well, you lean-faced coward, began his honor, whose temper did not seem to have improved after his substantial breakfast. You allowed yourself to be robbed of my money last night, eh? Thus much Sir Humphrey knew already, for his first inquiry on meeting midditchip at the inn, had been after his rents. Since then, the attorney had had half an hour in which to reflect on what he would say when his honor once more broached the subject. Therefore, he began to protest with a certain degree of assurance. On my honor, Sir Humphrey, you misjudge me, he said deliberately, as my clerk and I passed the loneliest spot on the heath, and

Starting point is 05:27:12 without any previous warning, two masked men leapt into the path in front of us and presented pistols. A third man called to us to stand. Here Master Mitichip made an effective pause, the better to watch the impression which his narrative was making on his employer. The latter was quietly picking his teeth and merely remarked quietly, well, and what did you do? Thus encouraged, Middichip waxed more bold. In a flash I drew a pistol, he continued glibly, and so did Duffy, for I must say he bore himself bravely. We both fired, and my ball knocked the hat off the fellow nearest to me, but Master Duffy's ball unfortunately missed. I was drawing my other Pistol, determined to make a desperate fight, and I believe Duffy did as much, I was amazed that

Starting point is 05:28:15 the fellows did not fire upon us in return. He was distinctly warming up to his subject, but here he was interrupted by a loud guffaw. Sir Humphrey was evidently vastly amused at the thrilling tale, and his boisterous laugh when echoing along the blackened rafter of the old village in. Odds my life tis perfect, marvelous I call it. And tell me, Master Middichip, added his honor, whose eyes were streaming and whose sides were shaking with laughter, tell me why they did not fire, eh? From past experience, Master Middichip should have known that when Sir Humphrey Chaloner laughed his loudest, then he was mostly to be dreaded. Yet in this instance, the attorney's delight at his own realistic story drowned the wiser

Starting point is 05:29:14 counsels of prudence. He took his honor's hilarity as a compliment to his own valor, and continued proudly. The reason was not far to seek, for at that very moment we were both seized upon from behind by two big fellows. Then all five of them fell upon us, and dragged us aside into the darkness. They tied scarves about our mouths so that we could not cry out. I, and had some difficulty in doing it, for believe me, Sir Humphrey, I fought like mad. Then they rifled us of everything, despoiled us absolutely. At this point it struck Master Mitychip,

Starting point is 05:30:00 that his honours continued gaiety was somewhat out of place. The narrative had become, thrilling, surely, exciting, and blood-curdling, too, and yet Sir Humphrey was laughing more lustily than ever. Go on, man, go on, he gasped, between his paroxysms of merriment. Od's fish, but tis the best story I've heard for many a day. I will swear to the truth of it in any court of law, protested the attorney with somewhat less assurance. The fifth man was bow brocade. I heard the others address him so while I was lying, gagged and bound. I, you would lie anywhere, commented his honor, gagged and bound or not. From your observation, Sir Humphrey, I gather that you somewhat or doubt my story,

Starting point is 05:30:59 murmured Master Mitterchip in a quavering voice. Doubt it, man. doubt it, laughed his honor, holding his sides. Nay, how can I doubt it? I saw it all. You, Sir Humphrey, I was there, man on the heath, I saw it all, your vigorous defense, your noble valor, your master midditchip's sallow face had assumed a parchment like hue. He passed his dry tongue over his parched lips, great drops of moisture appeared beneath his wig, that his fears were not unfounded, was presently proved by Sir Humphrey's sudden change of manner. The hilarious laugh died down in his honor's throat, an ugly frown gathered above his deep-set eyes, and with a violent curse he brought his heavy fist down crashing upon the table. And now, you lying, lumbering,

Starting point is 05:32:05 Paltroon, where's my money? But, but, sir Humphrey, stammered the attorney, now pallid with terror. There's no but about it. You collected some rents for me, 30 guineas in all, that money must lie to my account in the bank at Worksworth tomorrow, or, by God, I'll have you clapped in jail like the thief that you are. But, but, but, your honor, silence, I've said my last word. If that money is not in the bank by noon tomorrow, I'll denounce you to the worksworth magistrate as a fraudulent agent. Now, hold your tongue about that. I've said my last word. The rest is your affair, not mine, I've more important matters to think on. Master Mitterchip, half-dead with fear, dared not offer further argument or pleading.

Starting point is 05:33:04 He knew his employer well enough to realize that his honor meant every word he said, and that he himself had nothing more to hope for in the matter of the money. The deficiency extracted from him by that rascal bow brocade would have to be made good somehow, and Master Middichip bethought him ruefully of his own savings, made up of sundry little commissions extorted from his honors tenants. No wonder the attorney felt none too kindly disposed towards the highwaymen. He watched Sir Humphrey's face as a hungry dog does his masters, and noted, with growing satisfaction, that his honor's anger was cooling down gradually and giving place to harder and more cruel determination. As he watched, the look of terror died out of his bony,

Starting point is 05:34:07 sallow face, and his pale, watery eyes began to twinkle with keen and vengeful malice. End of Chapter 20. Chapter 21 of Bowbrocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Libravox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. Master Mitichip's idea. He waited a little while, and gradually a smile of the deepest satisfaction spread over his bird-like countenance. He rubbed his meager knees up and down with his thin hands in obvious delight. And as soon as he saw his opportunity, he remarked slyly, And your honor was on the heath last night. You can help me testify to highway robbery before Squire West. There are plenty of soldiers in this village. His honor will have out a

Starting point is 05:35:17 posse or two. The rascal can't escape hanging this time. sir humphrey's florid sensual face suddenly paled with a curious intensity of hatred ay he shall hang sure enough he muttered with a loud oath He dragged a chair forward, facing Middichip, and sat astride on it, drumming a devil's tattoo on the back. Listen here, you old scarecrow, he said more quietly, for I've not done with you yet. You don't understand, I suppose, what my presence here in Brassington means. I confess that I am somewhat puzzled, Your Honor, replied the attorney, meekly. I remarked on it to Master Duffy just before he started off for Worksworth this morning, but he could offer no suggestion. Odds life, man, couldn't you guess that having made my proposal

Starting point is 05:36:22 to that rascally highwayman, I could not rest at Aldwark unless I saw him carry it through. Ah, I got a horse at the Moorhen, and at nightfall I rode out on the heath. I feared to lose my way on the bridle path, and, moreover, I wished to keep her ladyship's coach in view, so I kept to the road. It must have been close on midnight when I sighted it at last. It was at a standstill in the midst of a quagmire, and as I drew near, I could see neither driver on the box nor groom at the horse's heads. Well, well, that's all. There was a wench inside the coach.

Starting point is 05:37:13 I threw her out and searched for the letters. I found them. That rascally highwayman had played me false. Some distance from the road, I spied him dancing a rigadoon in the moonlight with her ladyship, whilst her men, the dothed her. her men, the adults, were watching the spectacle. Ha, ha, ha, ha, t'was a fine sight, too, I tell you. So now the sooner I get that chivalrous highwayman hanged, the better I shall like it. Then am I to understand that your honor has the letters? I have the letters right enough,

Starting point is 05:37:54 said Sir Humphrey, with an oath between his clenched teeth. But I fear, me, her ladyship has cajoled the rogue into her service. Else why this dance, I do not know what to make of it. Madness, surely, or she never would have left the letters unprotected. He bewitched her, mayhap, and the devil, his master, lent him a helping hand. I'll see him hang, I tell you, hang hang master middichips attenuated frame quaked with terror there was so much hatred so much lust for revenge in sir humphrey's half-choked voice that instinctively the attorney coward as before some great and evil thing which he only half understood after a while sir humphrey managed to control himself he was ashamed of having allowed his agent this one peep into the darkness of his soul. His love for patience, though brutish and grasping, was as strong as his sensuous nature was capable of. His jealousy and hatred had been aroused by the strange scene he had witnessed on the heath,

Starting point is 05:39:19 and he was as conscious now of the longing for revenge as of the disaster. As of the disaster, desire to possess himself of Lady Patience and her fortune. Sedeath, he said more calmly, Beau brocade and that rascal John Stitch were after me in a trice, and they'd have had the letters back from me had I not put a bullet into the damned thief, and wounded him, Your Honor, queried Middichip eagerly. Nay, I could not wait to see, but I hope. I had killed him, for twas John Stitch, who rode after me, fortunately. He was too big a fool

Starting point is 05:40:04 to do me any harm, and I quickly made him lose my track. And you've destroyed the letters, Sir Humphrey? Destroyed them, you fool? Nay, it would ill suit my purpose if Streaten were to die. Can't you see that now? He said excitedly. With those letters in my hand, I can force Lady Patience's acceptance of my suit. While her brother's life hangs in the balance, I can offer her the letters on condition that she consent to marry me and threaten to destroy them if she refuse. I, I murmured the attorney, twere a powerful argument. And remember, added his honor significantly, there'll be 200 guineas for you the day that I wed Lady Patients. That is, if you render me useful assistance to the end. Two hundred guineas. Good luck, Sir Humphrey.

Starting point is 05:41:10 I hope you've got those letters safe. I, safe enough for the present. About your person? Nay, you idiot, about my person. With so cunning, harassing, as bow brocade at my heels? Then in your valise, Sir Humphrey? What, in a strange inn? Think you, the fellow, would be above breaking into my room? How do I know that mine host is not one of his boon companions? The rascal has many friends hereabouts. But what have you done with them, Sir Humphrey? queried the attorney in despair. In your ear, Master Mitterchip, quoth his honor, instinctively lowering his voice, lest the walls of the old inn had ears. I thought the best plan was to hide the letters there, where Lady Patience and her chivalrous highwayman would least expect

Starting point is 05:42:13 to find them. How so, good, Sir Humphrey. I was hard-pressed, mind you, and had but a few seconds in which to make up my mind. I dismounted, then lashed my horse into a panic. As I expected, he made straight for his own stables. At any rate, he galloped off like mad in the direction of Aldwark, whilst I remained cowering in the dense scrub, grateful for the mist, which was very dense in the hollow. There I remained hidden for about half an hour, until all sound died away on the heath. What happened to that damned highwayman or to John Stitch? I know not, but I did not feel that the letters were safe whilst they were about my person. I knew that I was some distance from this village, and still further from Aldwark,

Starting point is 05:43:14 and feared that I should be pursued and overtaken. At any rate, I crept at any rate, I crept out of my hiding-place and presently found myself close to a wooden hut, not far from the roadside, and there, underneath some ramble and thorny stuff, I hid the letters well out of sight. Oh, but they won't be safe there, Sir Humphrey, moaned Middichip, who seemed to see the golden vision of two hundred guineas vanishing before his eyes. Think of it any moment. they might be unearthed by some dolt of a shepherd. Sedeath, I know that, you fool. They're in a dry place now,

Starting point is 05:44:00 but I only mean them to remain there until you can take them to your own house at Worksworth and put them in your strong room till I have need of them. But this suggestion so alarmed Master Midditchip that he lost his balance and nearly fell off the edge of his chair. I, Sir Humphrey, I cross that lonely heath again, and with those letters about my person, tush, man, the footpads wouldn't take letters from you,

Starting point is 05:44:37 and beau brocade will be keeping an eye on me, and wouldn't again molest you. I, but he knows I enjoy the honor of your confidence, good Sir Humphrey. Believe me, the letters would not be safe with me. Ad Spud, said his honor firmly, then I'll have to find someone else to take care of those letters for me, and he added significantly to earn the 200 guineas. Master Middichip gave an anxious gasp, that 200 guineas, the ultimate ambition of his sordid miserable existence. No, he would not miss that, and yet he dreaded the heath and was in terror of bow brocade, and he dreaded his honor's anger ten thousand times more than either. That anger would be terrible if, having taken charge of the letters, he should be robbed of them. The alternative was an awful one. He racked his tortuous brain for a likely

Starting point is 05:45:48 issue. Sir Humphrey had risen, kicked his chair to one side, and made as if he would go. Now, harky, friend Middichip, he said firmly, I want those letters placed somewhere in absolute safety, where neither Lady Patience's influence nor her chivalrous highwaymen could possibly get at them. If you find a way and means of doing this for me, the 200 guineas are yours. But if I have to manage this business myself, if I have to take the almost certain risk of being robbed of the letters, if I carry them about my own person, then you, you, shall not get another shilling from me. Now you can think this matter over. I'll across to speak to Squire West and see if I can't get that rascally highwayman captured and clapped into jail

Starting point is 05:46:49 before the day is done. He took up his hat and threw his coat over his arm. The situation was getting desperate. Then suddenly Master Mitychip had an idea. I have a half a it, Sir Humphrey, he cried excitedly. I have it. A perfectly safe way of conveying those letters to my strong room at Worksworth. Let's have it then. I have bought some sheep of a farmer from over Aldwark Way for a client at Worksworth. Here, he added, pulling a paper out of his pocket and handing it up to Sir Humphrey. Is the receipt and tally for them? Jock Miggs, Master Crabb Tree Shepherd, is taking the sheep to the town today. He'll most likely put up for the night on the heath.

Starting point is 05:47:44 Well, queried Sir Humphrey, well, Jock Miggs can neither read nor write. Of course not. Let us send him to Worksworth and tell him to leave the packet of letters at my house in charge of my clerk, Master Duffy, who will put it in the strong room until you want them. Duffy started for Worksworth at daybreak this morning, and should be there by nightfall. Shaw, man, would you have me trust such valuable letters to a fool of a shepherd? Nay, Sir Humphrey, but that is our safeguard. Bo Brocade never touches the poor or the peasantry, and certainly would never suspect Jock Miggs.

Starting point is 05:48:33 of being in your honor's confidence whilst the ordinary footpads would take no count of him he is worth neither powder nor shot that's true enough i should tell miggs that the papers are accounts for the sheep and promise him a silver crown if he delivers them safely at my door we can put the letters in a sealed packet no one would ever ever suspect him. There was silence in the inn parlor for a while. His honor stood with legs apart opposite the tiny leaded window, gazing out into vacancy, whilst Master Mitterchip fixed his eyes meditatively on the broad back of his noble patron. What a deal depended on what was going on at the present moment in Sir Humphrey's active brain. Suddenly his honor turned to you. turned on his heel. Odds fish, Master Middichip, he said, but your plan is none so bad after all. The attorney heaved a deep sigh of relief and began mopping his beady forehead.

Starting point is 05:49:48 The tension had been acute. This lengthy, agitating interview had been extremely trying. So much hung in the balance, and so much had depended upon that very uncertain quantity. his honor's temper. But now the worst was over. Sir Humphrey was a man of determination, who never changed his mind once that mind was made up, and who carried any undertaking through with set purpose and unflinching will. Well, and when can I see that shepherd you speak of? He asked, if your honor would ride over on the heath with me this afternoon, suggested the attorney, I doubt not, but we should come across Jock Miggs and his sheep,

Starting point is 05:50:40 and in any case he would be at the hut by nightfall. Very good, rejoined his honor. Do you see that a couple of horses be ready for us? We can start as soon as I have spoken with Squire West and laid my information against that damned bow brocade, with a posse of soldiers at his heels, he's less likely to worry us, eh, old scarecrow? We shall not be safe, Your Honor, assented worthy Master Midditchip, until the rascal is dangling six feet above the ground. In the meanwhile, he added, seeing that Sir Humphrey was making for the door,

Starting point is 05:51:24 Your Honor will be pleased to give me back that receipt and tally for the sheep I showed you just, now. But already his honor was hurrying down the narrow passage, eager to get through the business that would lay his enemy by the heels, and render him safe in the possession of the important letters, which were to secure him Lady Patience's hand and fortune. All right, he shouted back lustily, it's safe enough in my pocket. I'll give it you back on my return. Left alone in the dingy black-rafted parlor, Master Mitterchip sat pondering for a while, his pale, watery eyes blinking at times with the intensity of his satisfaction, now for a little good luck, and he had no cause to fear the reverse, and that glorious vision of 200 golden guineas

Starting point is 05:52:26 would become a splendid reality. The advice, he had given Sir Humphrey was undoubtedly the safest which he could offer. Bo Brocade, even with a posse of soldiers at his heels, was still a potent personality on the heath, and it certainly looked as if her ladyship had cajoled him into her service. No one knew really who his friends and accomplices were. On and about brassing more, he could reckon on the help of most of the poorer villagers. But Jock Miggs at any rate was safe, alike from the daring highwaymen, and the more humble footpad. The former would not suspect him, and the latter would leave a poor shepherd severely alone. The footpath from the hut by the roadside to the town of Worksworth,

Starting point is 05:53:24 was but a matter of three or four miles, and for a silver crown, the shepherd would be ready enough to take a sealed packet to the house of Master Middichip in Folsom Street. Yes, it was all going to be for the best in this best possible world, and as Master Middichip thought over it all, he rubbed his thin, claw-like hands contentedly together. of chapter 21. Chapter 22 of Bobrocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Librovox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Sutlic City, Utah. An interlude. The Pack Horse Inn, lower down the village, was not nearly so frequented as was the Royal George. Its meager, dilapidated appearance frightened most customers away. A few yokels only patronized it to the extent of

Starting point is 05:54:36 sipping their small ale there in the parlor when it was wet or outside the porch when it was fine. The few, very few travelers, whom accident mostly brought to Brassington, invariably preferred the more solid, substantial in on the green. But when it was a question of finding safe shelter for his wounded friend, John Stitch unhesitatingly chose the pack horse. He had improvised a rough kind of stretcher with the help of the cushions from Lady Patience's coach. And on this, with the aid of Timothy the groom, he had carried Bathurst all the way across two miles of Heath into Brassington. The march had been terribly wearisome. The wounded man, fevered with past excitement, had become light-headed, and during intervals

Starting point is 05:55:38 of lucidity was suffering acutely from his wound. Lady Patience could not bring herself to leave him. A feeling she could not have described, seemed to keep her enchained beside this man, whom but a few hours ago she had never seen, but in whom she felt now that all her hopes had centered. He had asked her to trust him, and since then had only recovered consciousness to plead to her with mute, aching eyes, not to take away that trust which she had given him. Fortunately, the noted bad state of the roads on Brassing Moore, which at any time might prove

Starting point is 05:56:27 impassable for the coach, had caused her to take her own saddle as part of her equipment for her journey to London. This John Stitch had fixed for her on Jackalant's back, and the faithful beast, as if guessing the sad plight of his master, carried her ladyship with Mr. Betty, clinging on behind, with lamb-like gentleness down the narrow bridle path to Brassington. Thomas, the driver, had been left in charge of the coach, with orders to find his way as quickly as may be along the road to Worksworth. It had been Bathurst's firmly expressed wish that they should put up at Brassington at any rate for the night. Besides being the nearest point. It was also the most central, whence a sharp lookout could be kept on Sir Humphrey

Starting point is 05:57:28 challoner's movements. Everything depended now on how serious the young man's wound turned out to be. Patience felt that without his help, she was indeed powerless to fight her cunning enemy. She was never for one moment, in doubt as to the motive, prompted Sir Humphrey Challoner to steal the letters. He meant to hold them as a weapon over her to enforce the acceptance of his suit. This she knew well enough. Her instincts rendered doubly acute by the imminence of the peril warned her that the squire of Harrington meant to throw all scruples to the wind and would in wanton revenge sacrifice. Phyllis Philip by destroying the letters if she fought or defied him openly.

Starting point is 05:58:26 Patience be thought her of the scene at the forge, when Bathurst's ready wit had saved her from the officious and rapacious soldiers. Now that the terrible situation had to be met with keenness and cunning, she once more turned with hope in her heart to the one man who, who could save Philip again. But he, alas, lay helpless, and all along the weary way to Brassington, she was listening with aching heart and throbbing temples to his wild, delirious words, and occasional, quickly suppressed moans. However, they reached the pack-horse at last in the small hours of the morning. Money, lavishly distributed by Lady Pace. secured the one comfortable room in the inn for the wounded man. As soon as the day broke,

Starting point is 05:59:28 John Stitch went in quest of Master Prosser, the leech, a gentleman famed for his skill and learning. Already the rest on a good bed, and Lady Patience's cool hand and gentle words had done much to soothe the patient. Youth and an iron constitution, quickly. did the rest. The leech pronounced the wound to be neither deep nor serious, and the extraction of the ball caused the sufferer much relief. Within an hour after the worthy man's visit, Jack Bathurst had fallen into a refreshing sleep, and at John Stitch's earnest pleading, Lady Patience had thrown herself on a bed in this small room, which she had secured for herself and Mistress Betty, and had at last managed to get some rest. The sun was already well up in the heavens

Starting point is 06:00:31 when Jack awoke. His eyes, as soon as they opened, sought anxiously for her dear presence in the room. Feel better, Captain? asked John Stitch, who had been watching faithfully by his side. I feel a giant, honest friend, replied the young man. Help me up, will you? The leech said you ought to keep quiet for a bit, Captain, protested the smith. Oh, ho, he did, did he? laughed Jack gaily.

Starting point is 06:01:03 Well, go tell him, friend, from me, that he is an ass. Where is she, John? He asked quietly, after a slight pause. in the next room, Captain. Resting? Aye, she never left your side since you fainted on the heath. I know. I know, friend, said Jack, with a short, deep sigh.

Starting point is 06:01:27 Think you, I could not feel her hand. He checked himself abruptly, and with the help of John Stedge, raised himself from the bed. He looked ruefully at his stained clothes, and a quaint, pleasant smile. chased away the last look of weariness and suffering from his face. Nay, what a plight for bow brocade in which to meet the lady of his dreams, A, John? Here, help me to make myself presentable.

Starting point is 06:02:01 Run down quickly to mine host. Borrow brushes and combs and anything you can lay hands on. I am not fit to appear before her eyes. will you keep quite still, Captain, until I return, and keep your arm quietly in the sling? The Leech said, never mind what the leech said. Run, John. The sight of myself in that glass there causes me more pain than this stupid scratch. Run quickly, John, for I hear her footstep in the next room.

Starting point is 06:02:38 I'll not move from the edge of this bed, I swear it, if you'll only run. run. He kept his word and never stirred from where he sat, but he strained his ears to listen, for through the thin partition wall he could just hear her footstep on the rough wooden floor, and occasionally her voice when she spoke to Betty. Half an hour later, when John Stitch had done his vest to valet and dress him, he waited upon her ladyship at breakfast in the parlor. downstairs. She came forward to greet him. Her dainty hand outstretched, her eyes anxiously scanning his face. You should not have arisen yet, sir, she said half shyly, as he pressed her fingertips to his lips, your poor wounded shoulder. Nay, with your pardon, madame, he said lightly, tis well already,

Starting point is 06:03:39 since your sweet hand has tended it. Twas my desire to nurse you a while longer and not allow you to risk your life for me again. My life, nay, I'll trust that to mine old enemy fortune. She has taken care of it all these years that I might better now place it at your service. She said nothing, for she felt unaccountably shy. she, who had had half the gilded youth of England at her feet, found no light bantering word with which to meet this man, and beneath his ardent gaze she felt herself blushing like a school miss at her first ball.

Starting point is 06:04:29 Will you honor me, sir, she said at last, by partaking of breakfast with me. All cares and troubles seemed forgotten. He sat down at the table opposite to her, and together they drank tea and ate eggs and bread and butter, and there was so much to talk about that often they would both become quite silent and say all there was to say just with their eyes. He told her about the heath, which he knew and loved so well, the beauty of the sunrise far out behind the tours, the birds and beasts and their haunts and habits, the heron on the marshy ground, the cheeky robins on the branches of the bramble, the lizards and tiny frogs and toads, all that enchanting world which peopled the more and had made it a home for him, and she listened to it all, for he had a deep, tender, caressing voice, which was always good to hear.

Starting point is 06:05:39 and she was happy, for she was young, and the world in which she dwelt was very beautiful. Yet she found this happiness which she felt quite incomprehensible. She even chid herself for feeling it, for the outside world was still the same, and her brother still in peril. He, the man, alone knew whither he was drifting. He knew that he was drifting. He knew that he loved her with every fiber of his being, and that she was as immeasurably beyond him as the stars. He knew what this happiness meant, and that it could but live a day, an hour. Therefore, he drained the cup to its full measure, enjoying each fraction of a second of this one glorious hour, watching her as she smiled, as she sipped her tea, as she blushed,

Starting point is 06:06:39 when she met his eyes, and sometimes, for he was clumsy with his one arm in a sling, sometimes as she helped him in the thousand and one little ways of which women alone possess the enchanting secret, her hand would touch his just for one moment, like a bird on the wing, and he, the poor outlaw, saw heaven open before him, and seeing it was contempt. outside an early September sun was flooding the little village street with its golden light. They did not dare to show themselves at the window, lest either of them should be recognized, so they had drawn the thin muslin curtain across the casement and shut out the earth from this little kingdom of their own. Only at times the bleeding of a flock of sheep or the melanch

Starting point is 06:07:39 collie lowing of cattle would come to them from afar or from the window-sill the sweet fragrance of a pot of mignonette end of chapter twenty two chapter twenty three of beau brocade by baroness emma orxy this libravox recording is in the public domain recording by diongians sutlic city utah a daring plan it was close on 10 o'clock when they came back to earth once more. A peremptory knock at the door had roused them both from their dreams. Bathurst rose to open, and there stood John Stitch and Mistress Betty, both looking somewhat flurried and guilty, and both obviously brimming over with news. My lady, my lady, cried Betty, excitedly, as soon as as she caught her mistress's eye. I have just spied Sir Humphrey Challoner at the window of the

Starting point is 06:08:51 royal George, just over the green yonder. Give me leave, Captain, added John Stitch, who was busy rolling up his sleeves above his powerful arms. Give me leave, and I'll make the rogue disgorge those letters in a trice. You'd not succeed, honest friend, mused Bathurst, and might get yourself in a devil of a hole to boot. Nay, Captain, asserted John emphatically, "'Tis no time now for the wearing of kid gloves. I was on the green a moment ago and spied that ravenous scarecrow midditchip conversing with the beetle outside the courthouse where Squire West is sitting. Well, when the beetle had gone, Master Middichip walked across, the Green and went straight to the Royal George.

Starting point is 06:09:48 Be Guy, what does that mean, Captain? Oh, ho, laughed Jack, much amused at the Smith's earnestness. It means that Sir Humphrey Challoner intends to lay information against one bow brocade, the noted highwayman, and to see how nice he'll look with a rope round his neck and dangling six foot from the ground. An involuntary cry from lady patience, however, drowned the laughter on his lips. Tash, man, he added seriously, here's a mighty fine piece of work we're doing, frightening her ladyship. But John Stitch was scowling more heavily than ever. If the scoundrel should dare, he muttered, clenching his huge fists. His attitude was,

Starting point is 06:10:41 so threatening and his expression so menacing that in the myths of her new anxiety lady patience herself could not help smiling beau brocade laughed outright dare he said lightly why of course he'll dare he's eager enough in the pursuit of mischief and must save the devil all the trouble of showing him the way but now he added more seriously and turning to Mistress Betty. Tell me, child, saw you, Sir Humphrey, clearly. I, clear as daylight, she retorted, the old beast. How was he dressed? Just like he was yesterday, sir, a brown coat, embroidered waistcoat, buff breeches, riding boots, three-cornered hat, and he had in his hand a gold-headed writing crop. Child, child, child, cried. Bathurst joyfully, and those bright eyes of yours have not deceived you, yours will be the

Starting point is 06:11:47 glory of having saved us all. What are you going to do? asked patience eagerly. Pit my poor wits against those of Sir Humphrey Challoner, he replied gaily. I don't quite understand. He came up quite close to her and tried to meet her eyes. But you trust me, he asked, and she said. She murmured, absolutely. May heaven bless you for that word, he said earnestly. Then you will deign to do as I shall direct entirely. Very well, then whilst friend's stitch will fetch my hat for me, will you write out a formal plaint, signed with your full name, stating that last night on the Heath, you were waylaid and robbed by a man whom I, your courier, saw quite plainly, and whom

Starting point is 06:12:43 you have desired me to denounce. But I entreat you, there's not a moment to be lost, he urged, taking pen, ink, and paper from the old-fashioned desk close by, and placing them before her. I'll do as you wish, of course, she said, but what is your purpose? for the present to take your ladyship's plaint over to his honor, Squire West, at the courthouse. You'll be seen and recognized, and, not I, one or two of the yokels may perhaps guess who I am, but they do me no harm. I entreat you, do as I bid you, every second wasted may imperil our chance of safety. He had such an air of quiet command. about him that she instinctively obeyed him and wrote out the plaint as he directed, then gave it

Starting point is 06:13:42 in his charge. He seemed buoyant and full of hope, and though her heart misgave her, she managed to smile cheerfully when he took leave of her. I humbly beg of you, he said finally, as having kissed her fingertips he prepared to go, to wait here against my return, and on no account to take heed of anything you may see or hear for the next half hour. And I mistake not, he added, with a merry twinkle in his gray eyes, there will be strange doings at Brassington this noon. But you, she cried anxiously, nay, I pray you, have no fear for me. In your sweet cause, I would challenge the world, and if you desired it, would remain unscathed. When he had gone, she sighed, and obedient to his wish, sat waiting patiently for his return in the dingy little parlor, which a while ago

Starting point is 06:14:49 his presence had made so bright. It was at this moment that Master Mitychard, after his interview with the Beatle was in close conversation with Sir Humphrey Challoner at the Royal George. Outside the inn, Bathurst turned to John Stitch, who had closely followed him. How's my jackal lantern? he asked quickly. As fresh as a daisy captain, replied the Smith, I've rubbed him down myself, and he has had a lovely feed. That's good. You have my saddle with you. Oh, I, I knew you'd want it soon enough. Jackal Lantern carried it for you himself, bless his art, along with her ladyship and Mistress Betty. Then do you see at once to his being saddled friend, and bring him along to the courthouse as soon as may be? Hold him in readiness

Starting point is 06:15:49 for me so that I may mount at a second's notice. You understand? Yes, Captain, I understand that you are running your head into a damned noose, and, easy, easy, friend, remember, nay, I'll not forget for whose sake you do it, but you are at a disadvantage, Captain, with only one good arm. Nay, friend, rejoined Bathurst lightly. There's many a thing a man can do with one arm. He can embrace his mistress or shoot his enemy. The sleepy little village of Brassington lay silent and deserted in the warmth of the noonday sun, as Bathurst, having parted from John Stitch, hurried across its narrow streets. As he passed quickly through the outer passage of the pack horse, he had caught sight of a few red coats at the dingy bar of the inn, and presently, when he emerged on the green, he perceived another lot of

Starting point is 06:16:57 them over at the royal George yonder. But at this hour, the worthy soldiers of his majesty, King George, were having their midday rest and their customary glasses of ale, and were far too busy recounting their adventure with the mysterious stranger at the forge to the gaffers of Bressington to take heed of anyone hurrying along its street. And thus Bathurst passed quickly and unperceived. The one or two yokels whom he met gave him a rapid glance. Only the women turned round as he went along to have another look at the handsome stranger with one arm in a sling. Outside the courthouse, he came face to face with Master Inch, whose pompous dignity seemed at this moment to be severely ruffled.

Starting point is 06:17:56 Hey, sir, hey, he was shouting and craning his fat neck in search of Master Midditchip, who had incontinently disappeared. The court is determining, Squire West will grant you the interview which you seek. Lead, preserve me, he added, in noble and gigantic wrath. I do believe the impious Malapert was trying to fool me, sending me on a fool's errand, me, Jeremiah Inch, beetle of this parish. Bathurst waited a moment or two until the worst of the Beatles' anger had cooled down a little,

Starting point is 06:18:38 then he took a silver crown from his pocket and pushed past the worthy into the precincts of the house. The interview you've arranged for, friend, he said quietly, will do equally well for her ladyship's courier. Master Inch was somewhat taken off his balance, Midditch's disappearance, and this stranger's impertinence had taken his breath away. Before he had time to raise, recover it, Bethurst had pressed the silver crown into his capacious palm. Now tell Squire West, friend, he said, with that pleasant air of authority, which he knew so well how to assume that I am here by the command of Lady Patience Gascoigne and am waiting to speak with him. Master Inch was so astonished that he found no word either

Starting point is 06:19:38 of protest or of offended dignity. He looked doubtfully at the crown for a second or two, waited in his mind against the problematical half-crown promised by the defaulting attorney, and then said majestically, I will impart her ladyships cognomen to his honor myself. The next moment Jack Bathurst found himself alone in a small private room, of the courthouse, looking forward with suppressed excitement to the interview with Squire West, which, in a moment of Daredevil, madcap frolic, yet with absolute coolness and firm determination, he had already arranged in his mind. End of Chapter 23.

Starting point is 06:20:34 Chapter 24 of Bow Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Librevox recording is in the public domain. recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. His honor, Squire West. Squire West was an elderly man with a fine military presence and a pleasant countenance beneath his bob-tail wig. In his youth, he had been reckoned well-favored and had been much petted by the ladies at the county balls. Owing to this, he had retained a certain polish of manner not often met with in the English country gentry of those times. He came forward very politely to greet the courier of Lady Patience Gascoigne. What hath procured to Brassington the honor of a message from Lady Patience Gascoigne?

Starting point is 06:21:35 He asked, motioning Bathurst to a chair and seating himself behind. his desk. Her ladyship herself is staying in the village, replied Jack, but would desire her presence to remain unknown for a while. Oh, indeed, said the squire, a little flurried at this unexpected event, but there is no end fitting to harbor her ladyship in this village, and if her ladyship would honor me and my poor house. I thank you, sir, but her ladyship only remains here for an hour or so, and has dispatched me to you on an important errand which brooks of no delay. I am entirely at her ladyship's service. Lady Patience was on her way from Stretton Hall, Your Honor, continued Bathurst imperturbably, when her coach was stopped on the heath,

Starting point is 06:22:38 not very far from here. And her jewels, money, and also certain valuable papers were stolen from her. Squire West hemmed and hawed and fidgeted in his chair. The matter seemed strangely enough to be causing him more annoyance than surprise. Dear, dear, he muttered deprecatingly. Her ladyship has written out her formal plaint, said Jack. laying the paper before his honor. She has sent her coach on to Worksworth, but thought your honors help here at Bressington would be more useful in capturing the rogue. I murmured the worthy squire, still somewhat doubtfully, and with a frown of perplexity on his jovial face. We certainly have a posse of soldiers, a dozen or so at most, quartered in

Starting point is 06:23:38 the village just now, but, but what, your honor? But to be frank with you, sir, I fear me that twill be no good, and I mistake not, tis another exploit of that rascal, bow brocade, and the rogue is so cunning. Ah, he added with a sigh, we shall have no peace in this district until we've laid him by the heels. It was certainly quite obvious that the squire was none too eager to send a posse of soldiers after the notorious highwayman. He had himself enjoyed immunity on the heath up to now and feared that it would be his turn to suffer if he started an active campaign against Bobrocade. But Bathurst, from where he sat, had a good view through the casement window of the village green, and of the royal George beyond it.

Starting point is 06:24:42 Every moment he expected to see Sir Humphrey Challoner emerging from under the porch and entering this courthouse when certainly the situation would become distinctly critical. The squire's hesitancy nearly drove him frantic within. impatience. Yet perforce, he had to keep a glib tongue in his head, and not to betray more than a natural interest in the subject which he was discussing. Aye, he said gaily, and it was that rogue bow brocade, Your Honor. He's the most daring rascal I've ever met. The whole thing was done in a trice, odds fish. But the fellow would still your front tooth whilst he parlayed with you. He fired at me and hit me, he added ruefully,

Starting point is 06:25:39 pointing to his wounded shoulder. You were her ladyship's escort on the heath, sir. I, and would wish to be of assistance in the recovery of her property, more particularly of a packet of letters on which her ladyship sets great store. If the rogue were captured now, Now these might be found about his person. Ah, I fear me, quoth his honor, with singular lack of enthusiasm, that twill not be so easy, sir, as you imagine. How so? Bowbrocade is in league with half the countryside, and,

Starting point is 06:26:21 Nay, you say you have a posse of soldiers quartered here, Gadzooks, if I had the chance with these, and a few, you lusty fellows from the village, I'd soon give an account of any highwayman on this heath. Dear, dear, repeated Squire West, sorely puzzled, a very regrettable incident indeed. Can I so far trespass on your honor's time? Quaried Bathurst with a slight show of impatience, as to ask you at least to take note of her ladyship's plaint. Certainly, sir, certainly, hem, or, of course, we must after the rogue, the beetle shall cry him out on the green at once, and it was easy to see that the worthy squire

Starting point is 06:27:16 would far sooner have left the well-known hero of brassing more severely alone. Still in his official capacity, he was bound to take note of her ladyship's and to act as justice demanded. Tis a pity, sir, he said, whilst he sat fidgeting among his papers, that you, or perhaps her ladyship, did not see the rogue's face. I suppose he was masked as usual. Faye! He'd have frightened the sheep on the heath, maybe, if he was not. But her ladyship and I noted his hair and stature, and also the cut and color of his clothes. What was he like? Tall and stout of build, with dark hair turning to gray. Nay, ejaculated Squire West in obvious relief, then it was not Beaubrocade, who is young and slim. So I'm told,

Starting point is 06:28:20 though I've never seen him, you saw him plainly, sir, did you say, I quite plainly, Your Honor, and what's more, added Jack emphatically, her ladyship and I both caught sight of him in Brassington this very morning. In Brassington, outside the Royal George, asserted Bathurst imperturbably. Nay, sir, cried Squire West, who seemed to have quite lost his air of indecision, now that he was no longer feared to come in direct, conflict with Bobrocade. Why did you not say this before? Here, inch, inch, he added, going to the door and shouting lustily across the passage, where is that cursed beetle? In Brassington, did you say, sir? I'd almost swear to it, your honor. Nay, then with a bit of good luck,

Starting point is 06:29:22 we may at least lay this rascal by the heels. I would, I could rid this neighborhood of these rogues. Here, Inch, he continued, as soon as that worthy appeared in the doorway. Do you listen to what this gentleman has got to say? There's a damned rascal in this village, and you'll have to cry out his description at once, and then collar him as soon as may be. Master Inch placed himself in a posture that was a posture that was alike, dignified, and expectant. His honor, Squire West, too, was listening eagerly, whilst Jack Bathurst,

Starting point is 06:30:06 with perfect sang Freud, gave forth the description of the supposed highwayman. He wore a brown coat, he said calmly, embroidered waistcoat, buff breeches, riding boots, and three-cornered hat. He is tall and stout of build. His dark, hair slightly turning to gray, and was last seen carrying a gold-headed writing crop. That's clear enough, Inch, is it not? queried his honor. It is marvelously pellucid, sir, replied the Beatle. You may add, friend Beetle, continued Jack, carelessly, that her ladyship offers a reward of 20 guineas for that person's immediate apprehension. And Master, Inch, Beatle of the parish of Bresington, flew out of the door and out of the courthouse bell in hand,

Starting point is 06:31:05 for with a little bit of good luck it might be that he would be the first to lay his hand on the tall, stout rascal in a brown coat, and would be the one to earn the twenty guineas offered for his immediate apprehension. Squire West himself was over-pleased. It was indeed satisfactory to render service to so great a lady as Lady Patience Gascoigne without interfering overmuch with that daredevil bow brocade. The depredations on Brassing Moore had long been a scandal in the county. It had oft been thought that Squire West had not been sufficiently active in trying to rid the heath of the notorious highwaymen whose exploits were now famed far and wide. But here was a chance of laying a cursed rascal by the heels and of showing his zeal in the administration of the county. The squire in the interim busied himself with his papers, whilst Bathurst, who was vainly trying to appear seriously,

Starting point is 06:32:23 and only casually interested, stood by the open window, watching Master Inches' progress across the green. Outside the courthouse, faithful John Stitch stood waiting, with jackal lantern pawing the ground by his side. End of Chapter 24. Chapter 25 of Bowbrocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Libravox recording is in the public domain. recording by Dionne's Sutlick City, Utah. Success and disappointment. Thus it was that when Sir Humphrey Challoner, after his lengthy interview with Mitichip, stepped out of the porch of the Royal George on his way to the courthouse, he found the village green singularly animated. A number of yokels, including quite a goodly contingent of women and youngsters,

Starting point is 06:33:30 were crowding round Master Inch, the beetle, who was ringing his bell violently and shouting at the top of his lusty voice, Oyes! Oyes! Oyes! Take note that a robber, vagabond, and thief is hiding in this village. Interested in the scene, Sir Humphrey had paused a moment, watching the pompous beetle and the crowd of gaffers and women. He still carried his riding crop and flicked it with a certain pleasurable satisfaction against his boot, eagerly anticipating the moment when the village crier would be giving forth in the same centaurian tones, the description of bow brocade, the highwayman.

Starting point is 06:34:22 Oyes! Oyes! Oyes! continued Master Inch, with ever-increasing vigor. Take note that this vagabond is apparelled in a brown coat, embroidered waistcoat, buff another garments, and riding boots. Oyes! Oyes! Oyes! Take note that he carried with him this morning, a gold-headed riding whip, that he is tall and slightly rotund in his corporation and has raven hair slightly attenuated with gray. Oyaz, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, take note that if any of you observate such a person as I have just descriptioned, you are to apprise me of this instantaneously so that I may take him by force and violence even into the presence of his honor. Oyes! Oyes! Oyes!

Starting point is 06:35:25 The gaffers were putting their heads together, whilst the young ones whispered eagerly, brown coat, embroidered waistcoat, a gold-headed whip. Nay, t'was often enough that Master Inch had to cry out the description of some wretched vagabond in hiding in the village, but it was not usual that such and one was attired in the clothes of a gentleman. It even struck Sir Humphrey as very strange,

Starting point is 06:35:57 and he pushed through the group of yokels to hear more clearly Master Inches' renewed description of the rogue. Oh yes! Oh yes! Oh yes! At first, the interest in Master Inche's pompous words was so keen that Sir Humphrey remained practically unnoticed. one or two villagers, noting that a gentleman was amongst them, respectfully made way for him. Then one youngster struck by a sudden idea, stared at him, and whispered to his neighbor. He's got a brown coat on. I whispered the other in reply, and an embroidered waistcoat, too. Some of them began crowding around Sir Humphrey so that,

Starting point is 06:36:49 he raised his whip and muttered angrily, What the devil are ye all staring at? It was at this very moment that Master Inch suddenly caught sight of him, just in the very middle of a centaurian, Oyes. He gave one tremendous gasp, the bell dropped out of his hand, his jaw fell, his round, beady eyes nearly bulged out of his head. "'Tis him,' murmured the yokel, who stood close to his ear. This remark brought back Master Inch to his senses and to the importance of his position.

Starting point is 06:37:32 He raised his large hand above his head and brought it down with a tremendous clap on Sir Humphrey challoner's shoulder. "'Aye, tis him,' he shouted lustily, "'and begui! He's got guilt writ all over his face, and tis a mighty ugly surface. Sir Humphrey, taken completely by surprise, was positively purple with rage. Death and hell, he cried, clutching his writing whip significantly, what's the meaning of this?

Starting point is 06:38:09 But already the younger men, full of excitement and eagerness, had closed round him, impeding his movements, whilst two more lusty fellows incontinently seized him by the caller. They felt neither respect nor sympathy for a vagabond attired in gentleman's clothes. Sir Humphrey tried to shake himself free, whilst the Beatle majestically replied, You'll have it explinated to you, friend, before his honor. The excitement and lust of capture was growing apace. Got him, shouted most of the men. Showing his ugly face in broad daylight, commented the women.

Starting point is 06:38:57 Hold him tight, Beetle, was the universal admonition. You rascal, you dare, gasped Sir Humphrey, struggling violently, and shaking a menacing fist in the Beatles' face. silence commanded master inch with supreme dignity i'll have you whipped for this but this aroused the beetles most awesome ire to the stalks with him he ordered he insultates the majesty of the law you low-born knave i you'll hang for this it was all this clamour that at last aroused master midditchip in the parlor of the Royal George from the happy daydreams in which he was indulging. At first he took no count of it, then he quietly strolled up to the window and undid the casement to ascertain what all the tumult was about. What he did see nearly froze the thin blood within his veins. He would have cried out, but his very throat contracted with the horror of the spectacle which he beheld.

Starting point is 06:40:15 There, across the village green, he saw Sir Humphrey Challoner, his noble patron, the squire of Hardington, being clapped into the village stalks, whilst a crowd of yokels, the clumsy, ignorant, damned louts, were actually pelting his honor with carrots, turnips, and potatoes. Oh, was the world coming to an end? There, a pack of peas hit Sir Humphrey straight in the eye. No wonder his honor was purple. He would have a stroke of apoplexy for sure within the next five minutes. At last, Master Middichip recovered the use of his limbs. With one bound, he was out of the inn parlor and had pushed past mine host and hostess, who, as ignorant as were all the other villagers of their guest's name and quality, were watching the scene from the porch and holding their

Starting point is 06:41:20 sides with laughter. Jack Bathurst had watched it all from the window of the courthouse. His daredevil, madcap scheme, had succeeded beyond his most sanguine hopes. when he saw Sir Humphrey Challoner actually clapped in the village stalks, with the pompous beetle towering over him, like the sumptuous majesty of the law, he could have cried out in wild merry glee. But Jack was above all a man of prompt decision and quick action. For his own life, he cared not one jot and would gladly have laid it down for the same of the woman he loved, with all the passionate ardor of his romantic temperament. But with him, as with every other human being, self-preservation was the greatest and most irresistible law. He had readily imperiled his safety in order to obtain possession of the letters, which meant so much happiness to his beautiful white rose. But this done, he was ready to do battle for his own life, and to sell his freedom as dearly as may be. He hoped that he had

Starting point is 06:42:43 effectually accomplished his purpose through the arrest of Sir Humphrey Challoner, whose pockets Master Inch was even now deliberately searching, in spite of vigorous protests and terrible language from his honor, his heart gave a wild leap of joy when he saw the beetle presently hurrying across the green and holding a paper in his hand. It looked small enough, not a packet, only a single letter. But if it were the momentous one, then indeed would all risks, all perils, seem as nothing, when weighed against the happiness of having rendered her this service. But Jack also saw Master Midditchip, darting, panic-stricken out of the inn opposite. He knew, of course, that within the next few moments,

Starting point is 06:43:43 seconds, perhaps, the fraud would be discovered, and Sir Humphrey Challoner liberated amidst a shower of abject apologies from the squire and parish of Brassington combined. What the further consequences of it all would be to himself was not difficult to foresee. he looked behind him the squire was sitting at his desk apparently taking no notice of the noise and shouting outside down below john stitch who had been watching the scene on the green with the utmost delight stood ready holding jackalentern by the bridle in a moment with a few courteous words to the squire bathhurst had hurried out of the court-house he met with a few courteous words to the squire bathhurst had hurried out of the courthouse he he met the beadle at the door who paper in hand conscious of his own importance and flurried with wrath was hurrying to report the important arrest to squire west bethurst stopped him with a quick twas well done master inch and pressing a couple of guineas into the beadle's hand he added her ladyship will further repay when you've found the rest of her property. In the meanwhile, these, I presume, are the letters she lost. Only one letter, sir,

Starting point is 06:45:12 said Master Inch, as somewhat taken off his pompous guard, he allowed Jack to take the paper from him. There was not a minute to be lost. Master Middichip, having vainly tried to harang the yokels, who were still pelting his honor with miscellaneous vegetables, was now hurried, to the courthouse as fast as his thin legs would carry him. Bathurst took one glance at the paper which Master Inch had given him. A cry of the keenest disappointment escaped his lips. What is it, Captain? asked John Stitch, who had anxiously been watching his friend's face. Nothing, friend, replied Bathurst, only a receipt and tally for some sheep.

Starting point is 06:46:04 John Stitch uttered a violent oath, and the scoundrel will escape with a shower of potatoes and no more punishment than the stalks, and you've risked your life, Captain, for nothing. Nay, not for nothing, honest friend, said Jack, in a hurried whisper, as he mounted Jackal lantern with all the speed his helpless arm would allow. Do you go back to her ladyship as fast as you can? Beg her from me not to give up hope, but to feign an illness, and on no account speak to anyone about the events of today until she has seen me again. You understand?

Starting point is 06:46:51 Aye, aye, captain. At this moment there came a wild cry from the precincts of the courthouse, and Master Middichip, accompanied by Squire West himself and closely followed by the beetle, were seen tearing across the green, towards the village stalks. The truth is out, friend, shouted Jack, as pressing his knees against Jackalantern's sides and giving the gallant beast one cry of encouragement, he galloped away at breakneck speed out towards the more. End of Chapter 25. Chapter 26 of Bow Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey.

Starting point is 06:47:43 This Libravox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dion Gines, Settlic City, Utah. The Man Hunt By the time Squire West and the whole of the parish of Brassington had realized what a terrible practical joke had been perpetrated on them. by the stranger, the latter was far out of sight, with not even a cloud of dust to mark the way he went. But the hue and cry after him had never ceased the whole of that day. Squire West, profuse and abject in his apologies, had told off all the soldiers who were quartered in the village to scour the heath day and night.

Starting point is 06:48:34 that rogue was found and brought before him. The sergeant, who was in command of the squad, and the corporal, too, had a score of their own to settle with the mysterious stranger, whom the general consensus of opinion declared to have been none other than that scoundrel unhung, the notorious highwayman bow brocade. Master Inch, as six, soon as he had recovered his breath, distinctly recollected now, seeing a beautiful chestnut horse pying the ground outside the courthouse during the course of the morning. He blamed himself severely for not having guessed the identity of the creature so closely associated in everyone's mind with the exploits of the highwayman. The yokels, however,

Starting point is 06:49:34 at this juncture entrenched themselves behind a barrier of impenetrable density. In those days, just as even now, it is beyond human capacity to obtain information from a Derbyshire countryman if he do not wish to give it. Whether some of those who had pelted Sir Humphrey Challoner with vegetables had or had not known, who his honor was, whether some of them had or had not guessed Bo Brocade's presence in the village remained in spite of rigorous cross-examination, a complete mystery to the perplexed squire and to his valiant henchman, the Beatle. Promises, threats, bribes were alike ineffectual. I don't know. Was the stolid perpetual?

Starting point is 06:50:33 reply to every question put on either subject. Her ladyship, on the other hand, overcome with fatigue, was too ill to see anyone. The posse of soldiers, a score or two by now, had, however, been reinforced as the day wore on, by a contingent of Squire West's own indoor and outdoor servants, also by a few loafers from Brassington itself, of the sort that are to be found in every corner of the world where there is an alehouse, the idlers, the toadies, those who had nothing to lose and something to gain, by running counter to popular feeling and taking up cudgels against Beau Brocade for the same. sake of the reward lavishly promised by Squire West and Sir Humphrey Chaliner. The latter's temper had not even

Starting point is 06:51:38 begun to simmer down at this late hour of the day when all arrangements for the Batu after the highwayman being completed, he at last found himself on horseback ambling along the bridle path towards the shepherd's hut with Master Midditchip beside him. It had been a glorious day, and the evening now gave promise of a balmy night to come. But the Heath's majestic repose was disturbed by the doings of man. Beneath the gorse and bracken, lizards and toads had gone to rest in the marshy land beyond. Water-hane and lapwing, were asleep, but all the while on the Great Moor, through the scrub and blackthorn, along path and ravine, man was hunting man and finding enjoyment in the sport.

Starting point is 06:52:39 As Sir Humphrey Challoner and the attorney rode slowly along, they could hear from time to time the rallying cry of the various parties, stalking the heath for their big game. The hunt was close on the heels of Beau Brocade. Earlier in the afternoon, his horse had been seen to make its way riderless towards the forge of John Stitch. The quarry was on foot. He was known to be wounded. He must fall an easy prey to his trackers soon enough. Sometimes in the distance there would come a shout of triumph. When the human bloodhounds had at last found a scent. Then Sir Humphrey would rouse himself from his moody silence. A look of keen malice would light up his deep-set eyes, and raining in his horse, he would strain his ears to hear that shout of triumph again. He'll not escape this time, Sir Humphrey, whispered Middichip, falling obsequiously into his employer's mood. No, curse him, muttered his honor, with a string of violent oaths.

Starting point is 06:54:00 I shall see him hang before two days are over, unless these doles let him escape again. Nay, nay, Sir Humphrey, that's not likely. Chuckled Master Middichip, Squire West, has pressed all his own, able by body men into the service, and the posse of soldiers were most keen for the chase. Nay, nay, he'll not escape this time. Sedeath swore his honor under his breath, but I do feel stiff. A dreadful indignity moaned the attorney. Nay, but Squire West was most distressed, and his apologies were profuse.

Starting point is 06:54:47 Indeed, he seemed to feel it as much as if it had happened to himself. I, but not in the same place, I'll warrant, odds life. I had no notion how much a turnip could hurt when flung into one's eye, added his honor, with one of those laughs that never boated any good. A most painful incident, Sir Humphrey, sighed Middichip, brimming over, with sympathy. Twas not the incident that was painful. Zounds, I am bruised all over, but I'll have the law of every one of those dolts, I, and make that fool west, administer it on all of them. As for that ape, the beetle, he shall be publicly whipped.

Starting point is 06:55:40 Death and hell, they'll have to pay for this. I, I, Sir Humphrey, Your anger is quite natural, and Squire West assured me that that rascal bow-brocade, who played you this impudent trick, cannot fail to be caught. The hunt is well organized. He cannot escape. As if to confirm the attorney's words, there rose at this moment from afar, a weird and eerie sound, which caused master midditchips, shriveled flesh to creep along his bones.

Starting point is 06:56:20 What was that? he whispered. Horror struck. A bloodhound, the better to track that rascal, muttered Sir Humphrey savagely. The attorney shivered. There had been so much devilish malice in his honor's voice that suddenly his puny heart misgave him. He took to wishing himself well out of this unmanly business. The horror of it seemed to grip him by the throat. He was superstitious, too, and firmly believed

Starting point is 06:56:56 in a material hell. The sound of that distant snarl, followed by the significant yelping of a hound upon the scent, made him think of the cries the devils would utter at the sight of the damned. The dog belongs to one of Squire, Guests' grooms remarked his honor carelessly, a savage beast enough by the look of him. Luck was in our favor, for our gallant highwayman had carried Lady Patience's plaint, plain inside his coat for quite a long time, and then left it on his honor's table, quite enough for any self-respecting bloodhound, and this one is said to be very keen on the scent. Squire West tried to protest, but set a dog to catch a dog, say I.

Starting point is 06:57:55 Master Mitychip tried to shut his ears to the terrible sound. Fortunately, it was getting fainter now, and Sir Humphrey did not give him time for much reflection. His honor had stopped for a while listening, with a chuckle of intense satisfaction, to the yelping of the yelping of the dog straining on the leash. Then, when the sound died away, he said abruptly, Are we still far from the hut? No, Sir Humphrey, stammered Mitychip, whose very soul was quaking with horror. We'll find the shepherd there, thank you? Yes, your honor. Harky, Master Mitychip, I'll run no risk. That damned highwayman must be desperate tonight. We'll adhere to our original plan and let the shepherd take the letters to Worksworth.

Starting point is 06:58:54 You'll not let them bide tonight where they are, Sir Humphrey. No, you fool, I won't. They are but just below the surface under cover of some bramble, and once those fellows come scouring round the hut, any one of them may unearth the letters with a kick. of his boot. There's been a lot of talk of a reward for the recovery of a packet of letters. No, no, no, I'll not risk it. Sir Humphrey Challoner had thought the matter well out and knew that he ran two distinct risks in the matter of the letters. To one he had alluded just now

Starting point is 06:59:42 when he spoke of the probability, remote perhaps, of the packet being accidentally unearthed by one of the scouring parties. Any man who found it would naturally at once take it to Squire West in the hope of getting the reward promised by her ladyship for its recovery. The idea, therefore, of leaving the letters in their hiding place for a while did not commend itself to him. On the other hand, there was the more obvious risk of keeping them about his own person. Sir Humphrey thanked his stars that he had not done so the day before, and even now kept in his mind a certain superstitious belief that Beau Brocade, wounded, hunted, and desperate, would make a final effort, which might prove successful, to wrench the letter

Starting point is 07:00:42 from him on the heath. End of chapter 26. Chapter 27 of Bow Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Liprovoc's recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. Jock Miggs Errant. Master Mitichip had tried to utter one or two feeble protests, but Sir Humphrey had interrupted him emphatically. The rascal may hope to win his pardon through the Gascoigne influence by rendering her ladyship this service. Wherever he may be at this moment, I am quite sure that

Starting point is 07:01:33 his eye is upon me and my doings. Middichip shuddered and closed his eyes. He dared not peer into the dark scrub beside him and drew his horse in as close to Sir Humphreys as he could. If you're afraid, you lumbering old coward, added his honor, go back and leave me in peace. I'll arrange my own affairs as I think best. But the prospect of returning to Brassington alone across this awful heath sent Master Midditchip into a renewed agony of terror, though his noble patron seemed suddenly to have become uncanny in this inordinate lust for revenge, he preferred his honor's company to his own, and therefore made a violent effort to silence his worst fears. The more just now was comparatively calm.

Starting point is 07:02:39 The shouts of the hunters and the yelping of the hound had altogether seized. perhaps they had lost the scent. Another half-hour's silent ride brought them to the spur of the hill, along the top of which ran the Worksworth Road, and as they left the steep declivity behind them, their ears were pleasantly tickled by the welcome and bucolic sound of the bleeding of sheep. Your friend the shepherd seems to be at his post, quoth Sir Humphrey with a sigh of satisfaction. They were close to the point where on the previous night Lady Patience's coach had come to a halt, and the next moment brought them in sight of the Shepherd's hut, with the pen beyond it, vaguely discernible in the gloom. Sir Humphrey gave the order

Starting point is 07:03:38 to dismount. Master Middichip, feeling more dead than alive, had perforce to obey. They tied their horses loosely to a clump of blackthorn by the roadside, and then crept cautiously towards the hut. It suited their purpose well that the night was a dark one. The moon was not yet high in the heavens, and was still half veiled by a thin film of fleecy clouds, leaving the whole vista of the moor wrapped in mysterious gray-blue semi-tones. You have brought the lanthorn, whispered Sir Humphrey hurriedly. Yeah, yeah, yes, your honor, stammered Middichip. Then Quicks the word, said his honor, pointing to a thick clump of gorse and bramble quite close

Starting point is 07:04:34 to the shed. The letters are in the very center of that clump, and only, just below the surface. Do you creep in there and get them? There was nothing for Master Midditchip to do but to obey, and that with as much alacrity as his terror would allow, his teeth were chattering in his head, and his hands were trembling so violently that he was some time in striking a light for the Lenthorn. Sir Humphrey suppressed an oath of angry impatience. Lad, preserve me, murmured the poor attorney, if that highwayman should come upon me whilst I am engaged in the task. You'll not leave me, Sir Humphrey. I'll lay my stick across your cowardly

Starting point is 07:05:28 shoulders if you don't hurry, was his honor's only comment. He watched Midditchip crawling on his hands and knees underneath the bramble, and his deep stertorous breathing testified to the anxiety, which was raging within him, a few moments of intense suspense, and then Master Mitterchip reappeared from beneath the scrub, covered with wet earth, still trembling, but holding the packet of letters triumphantly in his hand. Sir Humphrey snatched it from him. Quick, find the shepherd now. Don't waste time, he whispered, pushing the cowering attorney roughly before him. One feels as if every blade of grass had a pair of ears on this damned heath, he muttered under his breath.

Starting point is 07:06:24 Jock Meggs, the shepherd, had counted over his sheep, closed the gate of the pen, and was just turning into the hut for the night when he was hailed by Master Mee. Mitterchip. Shepard! Hey, Shepard! Mids looked about him, vaguely astonished. Since his adventure of the previous night,

Starting point is 07:06:46 when he had been made to play a tune for mad folks to dance to, he felt that nothing would seriously surprise him. When, therefore, he felt himself seized by the arm without more ado, and dragged into the darkest corner of the hut, he did not even protest. Did you wish to speak with me, sir?

Starting point is 07:07:10 He asked plaintively, rubbing his arm, for Sir Humphrey's impatient grip had been very strong and hard. Yes, said the latter, speaking in a rapid whisper, here's Master Middichip, attorney at law, whom you know well, eh? I, I, murmured Jock Meggs, pulling at his forelock, Does she belong to his honor?

Starting point is 07:07:36 O, I believe. Exactly, Miggs, interposed Master Middichip, spurred to activity by a vigorous kick from Sir Humphrey, and I have come out here on purpose to see you, for it is very important that you should go at once on to Worksworth for me with a packet and a note for Master Duffy, my clerk. What? now, this time of night, quoth Jock vaguely. I, I, Miggs, you are not afraid, are you? Sir Humphrey had taken up his stand outside the hut, leaving Mitterchip to arrange this matter with the shepherd. He had leaned his powerful frame against the wall of the shed and was grasping his heavily weighted riding crop, ready and alert in case of attack. The darkness round him at this moment was intense, and his sharp eyes vainly tried to pierce the gloom, which seemed to be closing in upon him, but his ears were keenly alive to every sound,

Starting point is 07:08:47 which came to him out of the blackness of the night, and all the while he tried not to lose one word of the conversation between Middichip and the shepherd. That's true, Jock. the attorney was saying, well, then if you'll go to Worksworth for me now at once, there'll be a guinea for you. A guinea came in bewildered accents from the worthy shepherd. Lordy, Lordy, but these be amazing times. All I want you to do, Jock, is to take a packet for me to my house in Folsom Street. You understand? But here there was a a pause. Miggs was evidently hesitating. Well, queried Mitychip, I'm thinking, sir,

Starting point is 07:09:40 what? How can I go on your errand when I've got to guard this ear-sheep for you? Oh, damn the sheep, quoth Master Mitychip emphatically. Well, sir, if you be satisfied, you know my house at Worksworth. I, aye, I, sir, I'll give you a packet. You'll give you a packet. You are to take it to worksworth now at once and to give it to my clerk, Master Duffy, at my house in Folsom Street. You are quite sure you understand? I do know as I do, quoth Jock vaguely. But with an impatient oath, Sir Humphrey turned into the hut. Matters were progressing much too slowly for his impatient temperament. He pushed Mitychip aside and said peremptorily, Look, here, Shepherd, you want to earn a guinea, don't you?

Starting point is 07:10:37 I, sir, that I do. Well, here's the packet, and here's a letter for Master Duffy at Master Mitterchip's house in Folsom Street. When Master Duffy has the packet and reads the letter, he will give you a guinea. Is that clear? And he handed the packet of letters, and also a sysm. small note to Jock Miggs, who seemed to have done with hesitation, for he took them with alacrity.

Starting point is 07:11:06 Oh, aye, that's clear enough. He said tis writ in this paper that I'm to get the guinea, in Master Mitterchip's own hand. But mind, no gossiping and no loitering, you must get to worksworth before Cockcrow. Jock Miggs slipped the packet and the note into the pocket of his smock, the matter of the guinea, having been satisfactorily explained to him, he was quite ready to start. Noah, for sure, he said, patting the papers affectionately, mums the word, I'll do your bidding, sir, and the papers will be safe with me, seeing it's writ on them that I'm to get a guinea. Exactly, so you mustn't lose them, you know. No, Noah, I baint a ginnie. I bain't a guinea. I bain't afeard of that, nor of the highwaymen, and bow brocade wouldn't touch the loyks of me.

Starting point is 07:12:05 Bless him, but, lordy, these be amazing times. Already, Sir Humphrey was pushing him impatiently out of the hut, and here added his honor, pressing a piece of money into the shepherd's hand, here's a half-crown to keep you on the go. Thank you, sir, and if you think the sheep will be all right. Oh, hang the sheep. All right, sir, if Master Middichip be satisfied, and I'll leave the dog to look after the sheep. He took up his long, knotted stick, and still shaking his head and muttering, Lordy, Lordy, the worthy shepherd slowly began to wend his way along the footpath, which from this point leads straight to Worksworth. Sir Humphrey watched the quaint,

Starting point is 07:12:57 wizened figure for a few seconds until it disappeared in the gloom. Then he listened for a while. All round him, the heath was silent and at peace. The plaintive bleeding of the sheep in the pen added a note of subdued melancholy to the vast and impressive stillness. Only from far there came the weird echo of hound and men on the hunt. His honor swore a rome. Hewere. His honor swore a round oath. Zounds, he muttered, the rogue must be hard-pressed, and he's not like to give us further trouble, even if he come on us now, eh, you old scarecrow? The letters are safe at last. What? Ludd, preserve me, sighed the attorney, but I hope so. Back to Brassington, then, quoth Sir Humphrey lustily, Bo Brocade can attack us now, eh? Ha, ha, ha,

Starting point is 07:13:57 he laughed in his wanted boisterous way. Methinks we have outwitted that gallant highwayman after all. For sure, Sir Humphrey echoed Mitychip, who was meekly following his honor's lead across the road to where their horses were in readiness for them. As for my lady patience, ha, said his honor jovially, her brother's life is well in my hands to save or to destroy, according as she will frown on me or smile. But me seems her ladyship will have to smile,

Starting point is 07:14:36 eh? He laughed pleasantly, for he was in exceedingly good temper just now. As for that chivalrous bow brocade, he added, as he hoisted himself into the saddle, he shall, and I mistake not, dangle on a gibbet before another nightfall. Hark, he added, as the yelping of the bloodhound once more woke the silent moor with its eerie echo. Mitychip's scanty locks literally stood up beneath his bob-tailed wig. Even Sir Humphrey could not altogether repress a shudder as he listened to the shouts, the cries, the snarls, which were rapidly drawing nearer. We should have waited to be in at the death, he said, with enforced gaiety, me seems our fox is being run to earth at last.

Starting point is 07:15:32 He tried to laugh, but his laughter sounded eerie and unnatural, and suddenly it was interrupted by the loud report of a pistol shot, followed by what seemed like prolonged yells of triumph. Master Mitichip could bear it no longer. With the desperation of intense and unreasoning terror, he dug his spurs into his horses' flanks, and like a madman galloped at breakneck speed down the hillside into the valley below.

Starting point is 07:16:08 Sir Humphrey followed more leisurely. He had gained his end, and was satisfied. End of Chapter 27. Chapter 28 of Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Libravox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Sutlick City, Utah. The Quarry. Some few minutes before this, the hunted man had emerged upon the road, As worn out pallid aching in every limb, he dragged himself wearily forward on hands and knees. It would have been difficult to recognize in this poor, suffering fragment of humanity, the brilliant, dashing gentleman of the road, the foppish, light-hearted dandy, whom the countryside had nicknamed Bowbrocade.

Starting point is 07:17:11 The wound in his shoulder, inflamed and throbbing after the breakneck ride from the courthouse to the heath had caused him almost unendurable agony, against which he had at first resolutely set his teeth. But now his whole body had become numb to every physical sensation. Covered with mud and grime, his hair matted against his day. damp forehead, the lines of pain and exhaustion strongly marked round his quivering mouth. He seemed only to live through his two senses, his sight and his hearing. The spirit was there, though, indomitable, strong, the dog obstinacy of the man who has nothing more to lose, and with it all the memory of the oath he had sworn to her. All else was. was a blank, hunted by men, and with a hound on his track, he had physically become like the beasts of the more, alert to every sound, keen only on eluding his pursuers, on putting off momentarily

Starting point is 07:18:29 the inevitable instant of capture and of death. Early in the day he had been forced to part from his faithful companion. Jackalanturn was exhausted and might have proved an additional source of danger. The gallant beast, accustomed to every bush and every corner of the heath, knew its way well to its habitual home, the forge of John Stitch. Jack Bathurst watched it out of sight, content that it would look after itself, and that being righterly, it would be allowed to wend its way unmolested whether it pleased on the more. And thus he had seen the long hours of this glorious September afternoon drag on their weary course. He had seen the beautiful day turn too late, glowing afternoon.

Starting point is 07:19:30 Then the sun gradually sat in its mantle of purple and gold, and finally the gray dusk throw its elusive and mysterious veil over tours and more. And he, like the hunted beast, crept from gorse-toes-to-scrub, hiding for his life, driven out of one stronghold into another, gasping with thirst, panting with fatigue, determined in spirit, but broken down in body at last. By instinct and temperament, Jack Bathurst was essentially a brave man. Physical fear was entirely alien to his nature. He had never known it, never felt it. During the earlier part of the afternoon, with a score of men at his heels, some soldiers,

Starting point is 07:20:26 others but indifferently equipped louts, he had really enjoyed the game of hide-and-seek on the heath. To him at first, it had been nothing more. It was but a part of that wild, mad life he had chosen, the easily endured punishment for the breaking of conventional laws. He knew every shrub and crag on this wild corner of the earth, which had become his home, and could have defied a small army when hidden in the natural strongholds known only to himself. But when he first heard the yelping of the bloodhound set upon his track by the fiendish cunning of an avowed enemy, an icy horror seemed to creep into his very marrow, a horror born of the feeling of powerlessness, of the inevitableness of it all. His one thought now was, lest his hand, trembling and numb with fatigue,

Starting point is 07:21:34 would refuse him service when he would wish to turn the muzzle of his pistol against his own temple in order to evade actual capture. The dog would not miss him. It was practically useless to hide. Flight alone, constant, ceaseless flight might help. him for a while, but it was bound to end one way and one way only. The scent of blood would lead the cur on his track, and his pursuers would find and seize him, bind him like a felon, and hang him, I hang him like a common thief. He had oft, laughed, and joked, with John Stitch about his ultimate probable fate. He knew that, that his wild, unlawful career would come to an end sooner or later, but he always carried

Starting point is 07:22:33 pistols in his belt, and had not even remotely dreamt of capture, until now. But now he was tired, ill, half paralyzed with pain and exhaustion. His trembling hand crept longingly round the heavy silver handle of the precious weapon. every natural instinct in him clamored for death, now at this very moment, before that yelping Ker drew nearer, before those shouts of triumph were raised over his downfall. Only, after that, what would happen? He would be asleep and at peace. But she, what would she think, that like a coward, he had deserted his post?

Starting point is 07:23:24 Like a felon, he had broken his oath, whilst there was one single chance of fulfilling it, that he had left her at the mercy of that same enemy who had already devised so much cruel treachery. And like a beast, he crept back within his layer, and watched and listened for that one chance of serving her before the end. He had seen Sir Humphrey Chaloner and Middichip ambling up the hillside. He tried not to lose sight of them and, if possible, to keep within earshot, but he was driven back by a posse of his pursuers, close upon his heels. And now, having succeeded in reaching the road at last, he had the terrible chagrin of seeing that he was too late. The two men were remounting their horses and turning back towards Bressington. Methinks we have outwitted that gallant highwayman after all, Sir Humphrey was saying, with one of those boisterous outbursts of merriment, which to Bathurst sensitive ears,

Starting point is 07:24:42 had a ring of the devil's own glee in it. What hellish, Mr. Hark's, Mr. Meryment, which, which to Bathurst's sensitive ears, have those two reprobates been brewing, I wonder. He mused, if those fellows at my heels hadn't cut me off, I might have known. He crept nearer to the two men, but they set their horses at a sharp trot down the road. Jack vainly strained his ears to hear their talk. For the last eight hours, he had practically covered every corner of the heath, backwards and forwards across boulders and through morass. The hound had had some difficulty in finding and keeping the trail, but now it seemed suddenly to have found it. The yelping drew nearer, but the shouts had altogether ceased. What was to be done? God in heaven, what was to be done? It was at this moment that the

Starting point is 07:25:44 plaintive bleeding of one or two of the penned-up sheep suddenly aroused every instinct of vitality in him. The sheep, he murmured, a receipt and tally for some sheep. Fresh excitement had, in the space of a few seconds, given him a new lease of strength. He dragged himself up to his feet and walked almost upright as far as the hut. there certainly was a flock of sheep in the pen the dog was watching close by the gate but the shepherd was nowhere to be seen the sheep a receipt and tally for some sheep in sir humphrey challoner's coat pocket oh for one calm moment in which to think to think the sheep this one thought went on hammering in the poor tired brain like the tantalizing, elusive whisper of a mischievous sprite. And with it all, there was scarce a second to be lost. The hound yelping and straining on the leash was not half a mile away.

Starting point is 07:27:00 The next ten or perhaps fifteen minutes would see the end of this awful manhunt on the moor, and yet they're close by, behind those clumps of gorse, and the thick-set hedge of bramble was the clearing where just twenty-four hours ago he had danced that mad rigadoon with her almost in his arms instinctively in the wild agony of this supreme moment bow brocade turned his steps thither this clearing had but two approaches there where the tough branches of furs had once been vigorously cut into. Last night he had led her through the one, whilst Jock Miggs sat beside the other, piping the quaint, sad tune. For one moment the hunted man seemed to live that mad Mary hour again, and from out the darkness fairy fingers seemed to beckon, and her face, just for one brief second smiled at him out of the gloom. Surely this was not to be the end. Something would happen.

Starting point is 07:28:19 Something must happen to enable him to render her the great service he had sworn to do. Oh, if that yelping dog were not quite so close upon his track. Within the next few minutes, seconds even, he would surely think of something that would guide. him towards that great goal, her service. Oh, for just a brief respite in which to think, a way to evade his captors for a short while, a means to hide, a disguise, anything. But for once, the more, his happy home, his friend, his mother, was silent, save for the sound of hunters on his trail, of his doom drawing nearer and nearer whilst he stood and remembered his dream. It was madness, surely, or else a continuance of that fairy vision, but now it seemed to him, as he stood just there,

Starting point is 07:29:25 where yesterday her foot had plied the dear old measure, that his ear suddenly caught once more the sound of that self-same rigadoon. It was a dream, of course, he knew that, and paused a while, although every second now meant life or death to him. The tune seemed to evade him. It had been close to his ear a moment ago. Now it was growing fainter and fainter, gradually vanishing away. soon he could scarce hear it, yet it seemed something tangible, something belonging to her. It was the tune which she had loved, to which her foot had danced so gladsomely. So he ran after it, ran as fast as his weary body would take him to the further end of the clearing, whither the sweet, sad tune was leading him with its tender plaintive echo. There, just where the clearing debouched upon the narrow path,

Starting point is 07:30:35 which leads to Worksworth, he overtook Jock Miggs, who was slowly wending his way along, and who just now must have passed quite close to him, blowing on his tiny pipe, as was his want. the shepherd chorus of angels in paradise lend me your aid now with a supreme effort he pulled his scattered senses together the mighty fever of self-defense was upon him that tower of strength which some overwhelming danger will give to a brave man once perhaps in his lifetime the veil of semi-consciousness of utter physical prostration was lifted from his dull brain for this short brief while. The exhausted suffering hunted creature had once more given place to the keen, alert, son of the moor, the mad, free child of nature with a resourceful head and a daring hand. And for that same brief while, the great and mighty power whom men have termed fate,

Starting point is 07:31:51 but whom saints have called God, allowed his untamed spirit to conquer his body, and to hold it in bondage, chasing pain away, trampling down exhaustion, whilst disclosing to his burning eyes amidst the dark and deadly gloom, the magic golden vision of a newly awakened hope. End of Chapter 28. Chapter 29 of Bobrocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Libravox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. The Dawn A while ago, in an agony of longing, he had cried out for a moment's respite, for a disguise,

Starting point is 07:32:48 and now there stood before him Jock Miggs in small. and broad-brimmed hat with pipe and shepherd's staff. His pursuers, headed by the yelping dog, were still a quarter of a mile away, five minutes in which to do battle for his life, for his freedom, for the power to keep his oath. The plan of action had surged in his mind at first sight of the wizened little figure of the shepherd beside the further approach to the clearing. Bowbrocade drew himself up to his full height, sought and found in the pocket of his coat the black mask which he habitually wore. This he fixed to his face, then drawing a pistol from his belt, he overtook Jock Miggs, clapped him vigorously on the shoulder and shouted lustily,

Starting point is 07:33:51 Stand and deliver. Jock Miggs aroused from his pleasant meditations, threw up his hands in terror. The Ludd have mercy on my soul, he ejaculated as he fell on his knees. Stand and deliver, repeated Bo Brocade in as gruff a voice as he could command. Jock Miggs was trying to collect his scattered weds. But, but, but, kind sir, he murmured, you, you, you, you wouldn't harm Jock Miggs, the shepherd, would you? Quicks the word, now then. But good sir, I, I've gotten out to deliver. Jock Miggs was pitiful to behold.

Starting point is 07:34:37 At any other moment of his life, Bathurst would have felt very sorry for the poor scared creature, but that yelping hound was drawing desperately near, and he had only a few minutes at his command. Not to deliver, he said with a great show of roughness and seizing poor jock by the collar. Look at your smock. My smock, kind sir? I've a fancy for your smock, so off with it quick. Jock Miggs struggled up to his feet. He was beginning to gather a small modicum of courage. He had lived all his life on brassing more, and it was his first serious encounter with an armed gentleman of the road. Whether twas bo-brocade or no, he was too scared to conjecture, but he had enough experience of the heath to know that poor folk, like, himself had little bodily hurt to fear from highwaymen. But of course, it was always wisest to obey, as to his old smock. He, he, my old smock, sir, he laughed vaguely and nervously. Why, I don't want to knock

Starting point is 07:36:03 the poor old cuckoo down, murmured Bathurst to himself, but I've just got three minutes before that Kerr reaches the top of the clearing, and, off with your smock, man, or I fire, he added peremptorily, and pointing the muzzle of his pistol at the trembling shepherd. Meggs had in the meanwhile fully realized that the masked stranger was in deadly earnest. Why he should want the old smock was more than any shepherd could conceive, but that he meant to have it was very clear. Jock uttered a final plaintive word of protest. Kind, sir, but if I take off my smock, I shan't be quite—the decent, sir, with only my shirt. You shall have my coat, replied Bathurst decisively.

Starting point is 07:37:02 Ludd preserve me, your coat, sir? Yes, it's old and shabby, and my waistcoat, too. Now off with that smock, or, once more, the muzzle of the pistol gleamed close to Jock Miggs' head. Without further protest, he began to divest himself of his smock. The process was slow and laborious, and Jack set his teeth not to scream with the agony of the suspense. He himself had had little difficulty in taking off his own coat and waistcoat for earlier in the day, before he had been so hard-pressed, the pain in his shoulder had caused him to slip his left arm out of its sleeve. Moreover, the excitement of these last fateful moments kept him at fever pitch. He was absolutely unconscious of aught, save of the rapid flight of the second

Starting point is 07:38:05 and the steady approach of dog and men towards the clearing. Even Jock Miggs, who up to now, had been too intent on his own adventure to take much heed of what went on in the gloom beyond, even he perceived that something unusual was happening on the more. What's that? he asked with renewed terror. A posse of soldiers at my heels, said Beau Brocade decisively. That's why I want your smock, my man, and if I don't get it, there will be just time to blow out your dull brains before I fall into their hands.

Starting point is 07:38:50 This last argument was sufficiently convincing. Miggs thought it decidedly best to obey. He helped his mysterious assailant on with his own smock, cap, and kerchief, and not unwillingly attired himself in bow brocade's discarded coat and waistcoat. A pistol in your belt in case you need it, friend, whispered Bathurst rapidly as he slipped one of the weapons in Miggs belt, keeping the other firmly grasped in his own hand. There was no doubt that the hound was on the scent now. The men had ceased shouting, but their rapid foot-foot-souths. steps could be heard following closely upon the dog, whose master was muttering a few words of encouragement. Anon there came a whisper louder than the rest, this way, than another,

Starting point is 07:39:50 there's a path here. Begai, this confounded darkness. Steady, Roy, steady, old man, eh? What? This way. Can't you find the trail, old Roy? And the gorse was crackling beneath rapid and stealthy footsteps. There was now just the width of the clearing between Beau Brocade and his pursuers. This way, Sergeant, Roy's got the trail again. Neither Jock Miggs nor yet Bo Brocade could see what was going on at the further end of the clearing. The dog, wildly straining against the leash, was quivering with intense excitement. His master hanging onto him with all his might. Meg's, scared like some sheep, lost among a herd of cows, was standing half-dazed, smoothing down with appreciative fingers, the fine cloth of his new apparel,

Starting point is 07:40:53 terrified every time his hand came in contact with the pistol in his belt. But Bo Brocade had crept underneath a heavy clump of gorse and bramble, and with his finger on the trigger of his weapon, he cowered there, ready for action, his eyes fixed upon the blackness before him. The next moment, the outline of the hound's head and shoulders became faintly discernible in the gloom, with nose close to the ground, powerful jaws dropping and parched tongue hanging out of its mouth. It was heading straight for the clump of gorse, where coward the hunted man. Bowbrocade took rapid aim and fired. The dog, without a howl, rolled over on its side, whilst Jock Miggs uttered a cry of terror.

Starting point is 07:41:49 Then there was an instance pause. The pursuers, silenced and awed, had stopped dead, for they had been taken wholly unawares, and for a second or two waited, expecting and dreading yet another shot. Then a mild, trembling voice came to them from the darkness. There he is, Sergeant, just afore you standing, see? The sergeant and soldiers had no need to be told twice. Their paws had only been momentary, and already they had perceived the outline of Jock Miggs' figure, standing motionless, not far from the body of the dead dog. With a shout of triumph,

Starting point is 07:42:36 Sergeant and soldiers fell on the astonished shepherd, whilst the same mild, trembling voice continued to pipe excitedly. Hold in tight, Sergeant. Jump on him. Tie his legs. Sure, and tis he, the rascal. Jock Miggs had had no chance of uttering one. word of protest. For one of the soldiers, remembering a lesson learned the day before at the smithy, had thrown his own heavy coat right over the poor fellow's head, effectually smothering his screams. Another man had picked up the still-smoking pistol from the ground close to Miggs' feet. Pistols, said the sergeant excitedly, the pair of them too, he added, pulling the other silver-mounted weapon out of Miggs belt, and the black mask out of the pocket of his

Starting point is 07:43:37 coat, and silver-mounted be guy, and his mask. Now, my man off with him, tie his legs together, off with your belts, quick. And you, corporal, keep that coat tied well over his head, the rascals like an eel, and will wiggle out of your hands if you don't hold him tight. Remember, there's a hundred guinea's reward for the capture of bow brocade. Poor old migs smothered within the thick foals of the soldier's coat could scarce manage to breathe. The men were fastening his knees and ankles together with their leather belts. His arms too were pinioned behind his back. Thus, trust and spit it like a goose ready for roasting. felt himself being hauled up on the shoulders of some of the men, and then born triumphantly

Starting point is 07:44:37 away. We've gotten Beau Brocade, hip, hip, hooray! And so they marched away, shouting lustily, whilst Bo Brocade remained alone on the heath. The excitement was over now. He was safe for the moment and free, but the hour of victory seemed. like the hour of death as the last shouts of triumph, the last cry of hooray, died away in the distance. He fell back against the wet earth, his senses were reeling, the very ground seemed to be giving way beneath his feet, a lurid red film to be rising before his closing lids, blotting out the darkness of the moor, and that faint, very faint. streak of gray, which had just appeared in the east. God, to whom he had cried out in his agony,

Starting point is 07:45:38 had given him the respite for which he had craved. He was safe and free to think, to think of her, and yet now his one longing seemed to be to lie down and rest, and rest and sleep. Many a night he had lain thus on the open moor, with the soft, sweet-scented earth for his bed, and the tender buds of Heather as a pillow for his head. But to-night he was only conscious of infinite peace, and his trembling hands drew the worthy shepherd's smock closer round him. His wandering spirit paused a while to dwell on poor migs in his. sorry plight. Ah, well, the morning would see Jock free again, but in the meanwhile. Then all of a sudden

Starting point is 07:46:35 the spirit was back on earth, back to life, and to a mad, scarce, understandable hope. His hand had come in contact with a packet of letters in the pocket of Miggs smock. Far away in the sky, the eastern stars had paled before the morning light. One by one, the distant peaks of the Derbyshire hills emerged from the black mantle of the night and peeped down on the valley below, blushing a rosy red. Upon the heath, animal life began to be astir in the morass beyond, a lazy frog started to croak. Bo Brocade had clasped the letters with cold numb fingers. He drew them forth and held them before his dimmed eyes. The letters, he murmured, trembling with the agony of this great, and looked for joy. The letters. How they came there he could not tell. He was too weary, too ill to guess, but that they were her letters, he could not for us. He could not for us. He was too weary. He could not for us. a moment doubt. He had found them. God and his angels had placed them in his hands. Ah, fortune,

Starting point is 07:47:59 fickle fortune, the willful jade and the poor outlaw were to be even then after all, and twas bo-brocade highwayman thief, who was destined in a few hours to bring her this great happiness. Will she smile? I wonder. He loved to see her smile and to watch the soft, taill-tail blush slowly mounting to her cheek. Ah, now he was dreaming, dreams that never, never could be. He would bring her back the letters, for he had sworn to her that she should have them ere the sun had risen twice over Yon. on green-clad hills, and then all would be over, and she would pass out of his life like a beautiful comet gliding across the firmament of his destiny. A moment but not to stay.

Starting point is 07:49:01 In the east, far away, Rose had changed to gold. From Moore and Heath and Bogland came the sound of innumerable bird throats, singing the great and wonderful hairling, of praise, Hosanna, to awakening nature. The outlaw had kept his oath. He turned to where the first rays of the rising sun shed their shimmering mantle over the distant tours, and in one great uplifting of his soul to his maker, he prayed that sweet death might kiss him when he placed the letters at her feet. End of chapter 29. Chapter 30 of Bobrocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Libravox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Celtic City, Utah.

Starting point is 07:50:05 Suspense Throughout the whole range of suffering, which humanity is called upon to endure, there is perhaps nothing so hard to bear as suspense. the uncertainty of what the immediate future might bring, the fast-sinking hope, the slowly creeping despair, the agony of dull, weary hours, patience had gone through the whole miserable gamut during that long and terrible day, when obedient to Bathurst's wishes she had shut herself up in the dingy little parlor of the packhorse and refused to see anyone save the faithful Smith. And the news which John Stitch brought to her from time to time was horrible enough to hear. He tried to paliate as much as

Starting point is 07:51:05 possible the account of that awful Batu organized against Bobrocade, but she guessed from the troubled look on the honest Smith's face, and from the furtive, anxious glance of his eyes, that the man whom she had trusted with her whole heart was now in peril, even more deadly than that which had assailed her brother. And with the innate sympathy born of a true and loving heart, she guessed to how John Stitch's simple, faithful soul, went out in passionate longing to his friend, who, alone, wounded, perhaps helpless, was fighting his last battle on the heath. Yet the trust within her had not died out. Bo Brocade had sworn to do her service and to bring her back the letters, ere the sun had risen

Starting point is 07:52:08 twice over the green-clad hills. To her over Rob Marlowe. mind, it seemed impossible that he should fail. He was not the type of man whom fate or adverse circumstance ever succeeded in conquering. And on his whole magnetic personality, on the intense vitality of his being, nature had omitted to put the mark of failure. But the hours wore on, and she was without further news. Her terror for her brother increased the agony of her suspense. She could see that John Stitch, too, had become anxious about Philip. There was no doubt that with an organized manhunt on the moor, the lonely forge by the crossroads would no longer be a safe hiding place for the Earl of Stratton. The smithy was already marked as a suspected house, and John Stitch

Starting point is 07:53:14 was known to be a firm adherent of the Gascoins and a faithful friend of Beau Brocade. During the course of this eventful day, the attention of the sergeant and soldiers had been distracted through Bathurst's daring actions from Stitch's supposed nephew out of Nottingham. But as the beautiful September afternoon turned to twilight and then to dusk, and band after band of hunters set out to scour the heath, it became quite clear both to patience and to the smith that Philip must be got away from the forge at any cost. He could remain in temporary shelter at the packhorse under the guise of one of Lady Patience's serving men, at any rate until another nightfall, when a fresh refuge could be found for him,

Starting point is 07:54:15 according as the events would shape themselves within the next few hours. Therefore, as soon as the shadows of evening began to creep over pressing more, Stitch set out for the crossroads. He walked at a brisk pace along the narrow footpath, which led up to his forge, his honest heart heavy at thought of his friend, all alone out there on the heath. The weird echo of the man-hunt did not reach this western boundary of the moor, but even in its stillness, the vast immensity looked hard and cruel. in the gloom. The outlines of Gorsebush and Blackthorn seemed akin to Gaunt Cassandra-like specters, foreshadowing some awful disaster. Within the forge, Philip II had waited in an agony of suspense,

Starting point is 07:55:15 whilst twice the glorious sunset had clothed the Tours with gold, driven by hunger and cold, out of the hiding place on the moor, which Bathurst had found for him. He had returned to the Smithy the first night, only to find John Stitch gone, and no trace of his newly found friend. His sister, he knew, must have started for London, but he was without any news as to what had happened in the forge, and ignorant of the gallant fight made therein, by the notorious highwayman. The hour was late then, and Philip was loth to disturb old mistress Stitch, John's mother, who kept house for him at the cottage. Moreover, he had the firm belief in his heart that neither Bathurst nor Stitch would have deserted him had they thought that he was in imminent danger,

Starting point is 07:56:19 tired out with the excitement of the day and with a certain amount of hope renewed in his buoyant young heart, he curled himself up in a corner of the shed and forgot all his troubles in a sound sleep. The next morning found him under the care of old mistress stitch at the cottage. She had had no news of John who had wandered out, so she said, about two hours after sunset, possibly to find the captain, but she thrilled the young man's ears with the account of the daring fight in the forge. Nay, but they'll never get our captain, said the worthy dame, with a break in her gentle old voice, and if the whole countryside was after him, they'd never get him. Leastwise, so says my John.

Starting point is 07:57:19 God grant he may speak truly, replied the young man fervently. Tis shame enough on me that a brave man should risk his life for me whilst I have to stand idly behind a cupboard door. The absence of definite news weighed heavily upon his spirits, and as the day wore on, and neither John Stitch nor Bathurst reappeared, his hopes very much. quickly began to give way to anxiety and then to despair. Philip always had a touch of morbid self-analysis in his nature. Unlike Jack Bathurst, he was ever ready to bend the neck before untoward fate, heaping self-accusation on self-reproach, and thus allowing his spirit to bow to circumstance

Starting point is 07:58:17 rather than to attempt to defy it. And throughout the whole of this day, he sat moody and silent with the ever-recurring thought hammering in his brain. I ought not to have allowed a stranger to risk his life for me. I should have given myself up. T'was unworthy a soldier and a gentleman. By the time the shadows had lengthened on the moor, and Jackal Lantern, covered with sweat, had arrived riderless at the forge, Philip was formulating wild plans of going to Worksworth and there surrendering himself to the local magistrate. He worked himself up into a fever of heroic self-sacrifice, and had just resolved only to wait until dawn, carry out his purpose when John Stitch appeared in the doorway of his smithy. One look in the honest

Starting point is 07:59:21 fellow's face told the young Earl of Stratton that most things in his world were amiss just now. A few eager questions, and as briefly as possible, Stitch told him exactly how matters stood, the letters stolen by Sir Humphrey Challoner. Bather's determination to recapture them, and the organized hunt, proceeding this very night against him. Her ladyship and I both think, my lord, that this place is not safe for you just now, added John finally, and she begs you to come to her at Brassington as soon as you can. The road is safe enough, added the smith, with a heavy sigh. No one would notice us.

Starting point is 08:00:14 are all after the captain, and God knows, but perhaps they've got him by now. Philip could say nothing, for his miserable self-reproaches had broken his spirit of obstinacy. His boyish heart was overflowing with sympathy for the kindly Smith. How gladly now would he have given his own life to save that of his gallant rescuer? obediently he prepared to exceed to his sister's wishes. He knew what agony she must have endured when the letters were filched from her. He guessed that she would wish to have him near her, and in any case he wanted to be on the spot, hoping that yet he could offer his own life in exchange for the one which was being so nobly risked for him.

Starting point is 08:01:11 Quite quietly, therefore, and without a murmur, he prepared to accompany's stitch back to Brassington. At the pack-horse, a serving man's suit could easily be found for him, and he would be safe enough there for a little while at least. John Stitch, having tended jackal-lantern with loving care, took a hasty farewell of his mother, while his friend's fate and that of his young lord hung in the balance, he was not like to get back quietly to his work. The captain may come back here for shelter, mayhap, he said, with a catch in his throat as he kissed the old dame goodbye. You'll tend to him, mother. I, you may be sure of that, John, replied Mistress Stitch fervently. He'll need a rest, Mayhap. He'll need a rest, and some nice warm water he's such a dandy mother you know aye aye and you might lay out his best clothes for him he may need them mayhap i i've got him laid in lavender for him that nice sky-blue coat think you john

Starting point is 08:02:27 ay and the fine broidered waistcoat and the black silk bow for his hair and the lace ruffles for his wrists and-and stitch broke down a great lump had risen in his throat would the foppish young dandy the handsome light-hearted gallant ever gladdened the eyes of honest john again end of chapter thirty chapter thirty one of beau brocade by baroness emma orxy this libravox recording is in the public domain recording by dion jane's sultwick city utah we've gotten beau brocade the presence of philip at the inn had done much to cheer patience in her weary waiting. He and John Stitch had reached the pack horse some time before Cockcrow, and the landlord had been only too ready to do anything in reason to further the safety of the fugitive, so long as his own interests were not imperiled thereby. This meant that he would give Philip a serving man's suit and afford him shelter in the inn for as long as the authorities did not suspect him of harboring a rebel. Beyond that, he would not go.

Starting point is 08:04:01 Lady Patience had paid him lavishly for this help and his subsequent silence. It was understood that the fugitive would only make a brief halt at Bresington. Some, more secluded shelter would have to be found for him on the morrow. For the moment, of course, the thoughts of everyone in the village would be centered in the capture of Beau Brocade. The highwayman had many friends and adherents in the village, people whom his careless and open-handed generosity had often saved from penury. To a man almost, the village folk hoped to see him come out victorious from the awful and unequal struggle which was going on on the heath. So strong was this feeling that the beetle, who was known to entertain revengeful thoughts against the man who had played him

Starting point is 08:05:04 so impudent a trick the day before, did not dare to show his rubicund face in the bar parlor of either inn on that memorable night. No one had gone to bed. The men waited about, consuming tankards of small ale, whilst discussing the possibility of their heroes' capture. The women sat at home with streaming eyes, plaintively wondering who, would help them in future in their distress if bow brocade ceased to haunt the heath. Patience herself did not close an eye, her hand clinging to that of Philip, she sat throughout that long, weary night, watching and waiting, dreading the awful dawn, with the terrible news it would bring. And it was when the first rosy light shed its delicate hue.

Starting point is 08:06:04 over the tiny old world village that the sweet-scented morning air was suddenly filled with the hoarse triumphal cry we have gotten bow brocade hip hip hooray wearied and dazed with the fatigue of her long vigil patience had sunk into a torpor when those shouts rapidly drawing nearer to the village roused her from the state of semi-consciousness. She hardly knew what she had hoped during these past anxious hours. Now that the awful certainty had come, it seemed to stun her with the unexpectedness of the blow. We've gotten Beau Brocade. The village folk turned out in melancholy groups from the parlor of the inn. They, too, had entertained vague hopes that their hero would emerge unscathed from the perils which encompassed him. To them, too, the news of his capture came as that of a sad, irretrievable catastrophe. They congregated in small, excited numbers on the village green,

Starting point is 08:07:22 their stolid heads shaking sadly at sight of the squad of soldiers. who were bringing in a swathed-up bundle of humanity, smothered about the head in a scarlet coat, and with hands and legs securely strapped down with a couple of military belts. Only the fine brown cloth coat, the beautifully embroidered waistcoat, and silver-mounted pistol, proclaimed that miserable, helpless bundle to be the gallant bow brocade, The soldiers themselves were in a wild state of glee. They had carried their prisoner in triumph all the way from the heath and had never ceased shouting until they had deposited him on the green. Owing to the unusual hour and to the absence of his honor, Squire West, the pinioned highwayman was to be locked up in the pound until noon. In the small private parlor of the pack-horse, patience had sat rigid as a statue,

Starting point is 08:08:35 while those shouts of triumph seemed to strike her heart as with a hammer. Her fist pressed against her burning mouth. She was making desperate efforts to smother the scream of agony, which would have rent her throat. But with one bound, John Stitch was soon out of the pack-horse, where he, too, with aching heart and mind devoured with anxiety, had watched and waited through the night. It did not take him long to reach the green, and using his stalwart elbows to some purpose, he quickly made away for himself through the small crowd, and was presently looking down on the huddled figure, which lay helpless on the ground. There was the captain's fine brown coat, sure enough,

Starting point is 08:09:30 with its ample silk-lined, full skirts, and rich cut steel buttons. There was the long, richly embroidered waistcoat, the lace cuffs at the wrists, and the handsome sword belt, through which the finely chased silver handle of the pistol still protruded. But John St. St. St. John's ditch had need but to cast one glance at the hands and another at the feet, encased in rough countryman's boots, to realize with a sudden wild exultation of his honest heart that in some way or other his captain had succeeded in once more playing a trick on his pursuers, and that the man who lay there muffled on the ground was certainly not. bow brocade. But even in the suddenness of this intense joy and relief, John Stitch was shrewd enough

Starting point is 08:10:32 not to betray himself. Obviously every moment, during which the captors enjoyed their mistaken triumph, was a respite gained for the hunted man out on the heath. Therefore, when the sergeant ordered the rascal to be locked up in the pound, awaiting his honors, orders, and gave Stitch a vigorous wrap on the shoulder, saying lustily, Well, Master Stitch, we've got your friend after all, you see? The Smith quietly replied, I, I, you've gotten him right enough. No offense, sergeant, have a small ale with me before we all go to bed. Tis not to me, he added, seeing with intense satisfaction, the heaven

Starting point is 08:11:23 bolts of the pound securely pushed home on the unfortunate jock miggs. The sergeant was nothing lath and eagerly followed stitch to the bar of the royal George, where small ale now flowed freely until the sun was high in the heavens. But as soon as the Smith had seen the soldiers safely installed before their huge tankards, he rushed out of the inn, and across the green, back to the pack-horse, to bring the joyful news to Lady Patience and her brother. In the privacy of the little back-parlour, he was able to give free rein to his joy. They'll never get the captain, he shouted, tossing his cap in the air, and saving your ladyship's presence, we was all fools to think they would.

Starting point is 08:12:20 Patience had said nothing when the Smith first brought the news. She smiled kindly and somewhat mechanically at the exuberance of his joy. But when honest John once more left her to glean more detailed account of the great manhunt on the heath, she turned to her brother and falling on her knees she buried her fair head against the lad's shoulder and sobbed in the full. fullness of her joy as if her heart would break. End of Chapter 31. Chapter 32 of Bobrocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Liprovoc's recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah.

Starting point is 08:13:16 A painful incident. A few hours later, when hunters and watchers had had a little rest, came the rude awakening after the hour of triumph. Jock Miggs, still trust and opinioned, had been hauled out of the pound. Master Inch, the beetle, resplendent in gold-laced coat, and the majesty of his own importance, had taken the order of ceremony into his own hands. His honor, Squire West, would be round at the courthouse, about noon, and Inch, still smarting under the indignity put upon him through the instrumentality of the highwayman, had devised an additional little plan of revenge. Sir Humphrey Challoner had emphatically

Starting point is 08:14:12 declared that the beetle should be publicly whipped for having dared to lay hands on the squire of Hardington's person. Master Inch remembered. this possible and appalling indignity, which mayhap he would be called upon to suffer, and therefore, when the bolts of the pound were first drawn, disclosing the swathed-up bundle of humanity, which was supposed to be the highwayman, the beetle shouted in his most stentorian, most pompous tones, to the pond with him. The soldiers, most of them lads recruited from the Midland counties and a pretty rough lot to boot, were only too ready for this additional bit of horseplay. T'was fun enough to sit an old scold in the ducking stool,

Starting point is 08:15:11 but to carry on the same game with Bo Brocade, the notorious highwayman who had defied the four counties and set every posse of soldiers by the ears, be rare sport indeed. With a shout of joy they seized Jock Miggs by the legs and shoulders, and with much laughter and many a lively Sally, they carried him to the shallow duck pond at the further end of the green. Very sadly, and with many an anxious shake of the head, the village folk followed the little procession which was headed by the sergeant and pompous Master Inch. At the moment when the unfortunate shepherd was being swung in mid-air, preparatory to his immersion in the water, one of the soldiers laughingly dragged away the coat,

Starting point is 08:16:10 which swathed poor Miggs' head and shoulders, and was near suffocating him. We don't want him to drown, do we, he said, just as his comrades dropped the wretched man straight into the pond. Immediately there was a loud cry from beetle and spectators, Lord, love us all, that vain bow brocade. And one timid voice added, why tis Jock Meg's, the shepherd. The beetle nearly had a fit of apoplectic rage that cursed highwayman surely must be in league with the devil himself. The soldiers, were gasping with astonishment and staring open-mouthed at the dripping figure of Jock Miggs, who with unruffled stolidity was quietly struggling out of the water.

Starting point is 08:17:08 Lordy, Lordy, these be amazing times, he muttered in his vague, fatalistic way, as he shook himself dry in the sunshine after the manner of his own woolly sheep-dog. A ho, ho, ha, ha, ha, came in merry chorus from the crowd of village folk. Look at Jock Miggs, the highwayman. The soldiers were absolutely speechless. Master Inch, the Beatle, had said emphatically, Damn! Truly, there was nothing more to be said.

Starting point is 08:17:46 Those who were inclined to be superstitious felt convinced that the devil himself had had something to do with this amazing substitution. That it was Bobrocade, who had been captured on the Heath last night. None of those who were present at the time doubted for a single instant. To their minds, the highwaymen had been mysteriously spirited away by the agency of Satan, his friend, who had quietly deposited Jock Miggs, the shepherd, in his place. John Stitch, with Mistress Betty, beside him, had watched these proceedings from the other end of the Green, fully prepared to come to Miggs's assistance and to disclose the latter's identity at once if the horseplay became at all too rough. He now pulled. He now pulled.

Starting point is 08:18:45 pushed his way through the group of soldiers, and good-naturedly taking hold of the bewildered shepherd's arm, he led him to the porch of the Royal George. You'd like to wet your gullet after this, a jock, he said, as he ordered a tankard of steaming ale to be brought forthwith to the dripping man. The soldiers, somewhat shame-faced, had pressed into the bar-parlour of the inn. Presently, there would be a few broken heads in the village as a result of the morning's work. But for the moment, the yokels had not begun to chafe. Twas Jock, who was the center of attraction outside in the porch, sitting on a bench and sipping large quantities of hot ale. Let's all drink a glass of ale to the health of Jock Miggs, the highwaymen.

Starting point is 08:19:45 came in merry accents from one of the gaffers. Hooray for Jock Miggs, the highwayman, was the universal gleeful chorus. Be guy, don't he look formidable? Quoth one of the villagers, pointing at the shepherd's scared figure on the bench. Let me perish, said another in mock alarm, but eyes mightily feared of him. Mistress Betty, too, had mixed with the throng, and was eyeing Jock, with irrepressible laughter dancing in her saucy little face. Ludd tis that funny bit of sheep's wool, she said gaily.

Starting point is 08:20:30 Faith, and you do look sadly, Jock Miggs, and no mistake. Have you been in the pond? How did he found that out? Queryed Miggs vaguely. Aye, they dumped o'er in the pond they did, and nearly throttled I. Tis a blamed shame. He had sipped huge tankards of hot ale until he felt thoroughly warm, and was steaming now like a great loaf just out of the oven. Dumped ye in the pond, laughed Mistress Betty.

Starting point is 08:21:05 You were no beauty before, Jock Meggs, but now, oh, Gemini, why, What had you done? I'd done out, retorted the bewildered shepherd. A fine gentleman, he took a fancy to me, old smock. He did. He put a pistol to my head. Then he'd give me his own beautiful coat, for to make me look decent, and I were just putting it on,

Starting point is 08:21:34 when them soldiers fell on me, and nigh throttled me, and clapped me in the pound they did. ye seem to have had a rough time of it friend miggs said john stitch kindly ay that be so commented jock vaguely amazing times these be they mistook you in your fine clothes for beau brocade explained one of the villagers maybe so quoth miggs i dunno but mistress betty held up a rosy finger at the unfortunate shepherd and said with grave severity, Ye are not Bo-Brocayed, Jock-Miggs, are ye? I don't know, replied Jock-Miggs with imperturbable vagueness. I don't rightly know who, O.A.B.

Starting point is 08:22:26 I think them soldiers made a mistake, but I don't know. He was undoubtedly the hero of the hour, and the rest of his morning was spent in pleasant conviviality with all his friends in the village, until by about noon the worthy shepherd was really hopelessly at sea as to who he really was. At one o'clock, he became quite convinced that he was Bo Brocade, the Highwayman, or at any rate a very dangerous character, and had only escaped hanging through his reputation of supernatural cunning and bravery. the sergeant and soldiers were drowning their acute disappointment in the bar-parlour of the royal george they certainly were not in luck

Starting point is 08:23:20 for even at the very moment when egged on by the sergeant they were planning a fresh batteau of the heath there came into brassington an advance guard from the duke of cumberland with the news that his royal highness would pass through the village with his army corps on his way to the north. The sergeant was requisitioned to arrange for his highness's quarters at the Royal George. The men would not be allowed to go hunting after a highwayman in case their officers had need of them for other purposes. All thoughts of a fresh hunt after their elusive quarry would therefore have to be abandoned until after the army had passed through Brassington, and sergeant and soldiers could but hope that they would be left behind in order that they might make one more gigantic attempt to earn the hundred guineas reward offered for the capture of bow brocade. End of Chapter 32.

Starting point is 08:24:38 Chapter 33 of Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This liberal Vaux recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Sutlick City, Utah. The Awakening John Stitch could scarce contain himself for joy. Fate indeed, and all the angels in heaven had ranged themselves on the side of his captain, that Bobrow Cage should have emerged unconquered, after all, out of the terrible position in which he was placed last night seemed to the worthy Smith nothing short of miraculous, and only accomplished through the Special Agency of Heaven,

Starting point is 08:25:27 whose most cherished child the gallant highwayman most undoubtedly was in his friend's enthusiastic estimation. For the moment, therefore, the kindly Smith felt tolerably happy about his friend. The presence of his Royal Highness, the Duke of Cumberland, with his Army Corps in this part of the country, would do much towards keeping the sergeant and soldiers' attention away from the heath, at any rate, for a day or two. Perhaps the squad now quartered at Brassington would be drafted to one of the regiments, and a fresh contingent composed of men who'd have no sense. special bone to pick with the highwaymen left behind for this still active hunt against the rebels.

Starting point is 08:26:23 But this train of thought brought the faithful Smith's mind back to the Earl of Stratton and the stolen letters. Reassured momentarily as to his friend, he was still aware of the grave peril, which threatened his young lord. Neither he nor Lady Patience, could conjecture what had become of the letters. Sir Humphrey Challoner, after his woeful adventure in Brassington, had condescended to accept Squire West's hospitality for the nonce. Stitch had spied him in the course of the morning, walking in the direction of the village,

Starting point is 08:27:06 in close conversation with his familiar Master Middichip, attorney at law. In spite of the momentary respite in his anxiety, the Smith felt that there lay still the real danger to Beaubrocade and to Lord Stratton. Moreover, by now he longed to see his friend and to learn how he'd fared. Vaguely, in his honest heart, he feared that the young man had succumbed on the heath to pain and fatigue, and mayhap had failed to reach the forge. When he saw the entire population of Brassington busy with Jock Miggs and the soldier's intent on the news from the Duke of Cumberland's advance guard, he determined to set out for the crossroads in hopes of finding the captain at the forge.

Starting point is 08:28:05 He had just crossed the green and turned into the narrow bridle path, which led straight to his smithy when he spied a yokel, dressed in a long smock, and wearing a broad-brimmed hat, coming slowly towards him. The man was leaning heavily on a thick, knotted stick, and seemed to be walking with obvious pain and fatigue. Some unexplainable instinct caused the smith to wait a while until the yokel came a little nearer. This corner of the village was quite deserted. The laughter of the folk assembled round the royal George could be heard only as a distant echo from across the green. The next moment, the Smith uttered a quickly suppressed cry of astonishment as he recognized Bathurst's face underneath the broad-brimmed hat.

Starting point is 08:29:04 Sh! Sh! Sh! Sh! Sh! whispered the young man hurriedly. Her ladyship? Can I see her? Yes, yes, replied John, whose honest eyes were resting anxiously on his friend's pallid face. But you, Captain, you? He did not like to formulate the question, and Bathurst interrupted him quickly. I've rested a while at the forge, John. Your mother was an angel, and now I want to see her ladyship.

Starting point is 08:29:37 John's honest heart misgave him. his friend's fresh young voice sounded hoarse and unnatural there was a restless feverish glitter in his eyes and the slender tapering hand which rested on the stick trembled visibly you ought to be in bed captain he muttered gruffly and well nursed too you are ill i am sufficiently alive friend at any rate to serve lady patients to the the end. I'll go tell her ladyship, said the Smith, with a sigh. Say a man from the village would wish to speak with her. Don't mention my name, John. She'll not know me, I think. Tis best that she should not, and I look a miserable object enough, don't I? He added with a feeble laugh. Her ladyship would command you to rest if she knew. I don't wish her to know, friend, said Jack, smiling in spite of himself at the good fellow's vehemence, her tender pity would try to

Starting point is 08:30:48 wean me from my purpose, which is to serve her with the last breath left in me. And now, quick, John, don't worry about me, old friend. I am only a little tired after that scramble on the heath, and the wound, that limb of Satan dealt me, is at times rather to troublesome. But I am very tough, you know. All my plans are made, and I'll follow you at a little distance. Beg her ladyship to speak with me in the passage of the inn. T'would excite too much attention if I went up to her parlor. No one'll know me, never fear. John knew of old how useless it was to argue with the captain once he had set his mind on a definite course of action. Without further protest, therefore, and yet with a heavy heart, he turned and quickly walked back

Starting point is 08:31:49 through the village to the pack-horse, followed at some little distance by Bathurst. In order to arouse as little suspicion as possible, it had been necessary for the young Earl of Streaton, to mix from time to time with the servant and the barman of the inn. He was supposed to be an additional serving man come to help at the pack horse in view of her ladyships, unexpected stay there. In this out-of-the-way village of Brassington, no one knew him by sight, and he was in comparative safety here until nightfall when he meant to strike up country. again for shelter. He was standing in the shadow behind the bar when John Stitch entered the parlor, bearing the message from Beau Brocade. The room was dark and narrow, overfilled with heavy clouds

Starting point is 08:32:50 of tobacco smoke, and with the deafening clamor of loud discussions and exciting narratives carried on by two or three soldiers and some half-dozen villagers over. Overfellers. profuse tankards of ale. John Stitch managed to reach Phillips' ear without exciting attention. The young man at once slipped out of the room in order to tell his sister that a yokel, bearing important news, would wish to speak with her privately. Her heart beating with eagerness and apprehension, patience hurried down the narrow stairs, and in the passage found her face to face with a man dressed in a long, dingy smock, and whose features she could not distinguish beneath the broad brim of his hat. He raised a respectful hand to his forelock

Starting point is 08:33:48 as soon as he was in her ladyship's presence, but did not remove his hat. You wished to speak with me, my man, asked Lady Patience eagerly. I have a message for to deliver to Lady Patience Gascoigne, said Bathurst, whose voice, hoarse and quavering with fatigue, needed no assumption of disguise. He kept his head well bent, and the passage was very dark. Patience, with her thoughts fixed on the gallant, upright figure, she had last seen, so full of vitality and joy in the little in parlour upstairs, scarce gave more than, a passing glance to the stooping form, leaning heavily on a stick before her. Yes, yes, she said impatiently, you have a message? From whom? I don't rightly know,

Starting point is 08:34:47 my lady, a gentleman twas on the heath this morning. He gave me this letter for your ladyship. Barrying his taill, tail, tail, slender hand, well inside the capacious sleeve of Jock-Mig's smock, Bathurst handed patience a note written by himself. She took it from him with a glad little cry, and when he turned to go, she put a restraining hand on his arm. Wait till I've read the letter, she said, I may wish to send an answer. She unfolded the letter slowly, very slowly. He's standing close beside her and watching the tears gathering in her eyes as she began to read, murmuring the words half audibly to herself. Have no fear. I have the letters, and with your permission, we'll take them straight to London. I have a powerful friend there who will help me to place

Starting point is 08:35:49 them before the king and counsel without delay. To carry this safely through, it is important that I should not be seen again in Bressington. As Sir Humphrey Challoner, luckily has lost track of me for the moment, and I can be at Worksworth before nightfall and on my way to London before another dawn. Your enemy will keep watch on you, so I entreat you to stay in Bresington so as to engage his attention whilst I go to London with the letters. His lordship would be safest, I think, in the cottage of old widow Coggins at Aldwark. It has been my good fortune to do her some small service.

Starting point is 08:36:40 She'll befriend his lordship for my sake. John Stitch will convey him thither as soon as may be. I entreat you to be of good cheer. A few days will see your brother of, free man and rid you forever of your enemy. Believe me, the plan I have had the honor to set forth is safe and quick, and on my knees, I beg you to allow me to carry it through in your service. She folded the letter and then slipped it into the folds of her gown. Through the open doorway behind her, a ray of sunshine came shyly peeping in.

Starting point is 08:37:24 framing her graceful figure with a narrow fillet of gold. They were alone in the passage, and she, intent upon the precious letter, was taking no notice of him. Thus he could feast his eyes once more upon his dream, his beautiful white rose drooping with the dew. The graceful silhouette outlined against the sunlit picture beyond, the queenly head, with its wealth of soft golden hair bent with rapt attention on the letter which trembled in her hand. His whole being ached with mad, passionate longing for her. His lips burned with a desire to cover her neck and throat with kisses, yet he would have knelt on the flagstones before her and worshipped, as did the saints before our lady's shrine. In his heart was a great joy that he

Starting point is 08:38:24 could do her service, and a strange, wild hope that he might die for her. The gentleman who gave you this letter, she said with a slight catch in her low, melodious voice, you saw him? He was well. How did he look? Her eyes now were swimming in tears, and Bathurst had much ado to still the mad beating of his heart, and to force his voice to a natural tone. Ludd, my lady, he said, but he was just like any other body, I thought, not ill? No, no, not that I could see. Go back to him, friend, she said with sudden eagerness, tell him that he must come to me at once. I would speak with him. It required all Bethers' firm strength of will not to betray himself before her. The tender pleading in her eyes,

Starting point is 08:39:28 the gentle womanly sympathy in her voice set all his pulses beating, but he had made up his mind that she should not know him just then. A look, a cry might give him away, and there was but one chance now to be of useful service to her, and that was to take the letters at once to London, whilst their joint enemy had for the nonce no thought of him. Therefore he contrived to say quite stolidly, Noah, Noah, the gentleman said to, Oye, you can bring a message, but the lady mustn't come nigh me. She gave a quick little sigh of disappointment. Then, my good fellow, she said, try to remember. Tell him, tell him, I would wish to thank him. Tell him, nay, nay, she suddenly added, pulling a faded white rose from her belt. Tell him nothing, but give him this flower,

Starting point is 08:40:35 in token that I have received his letter and will act as he bids me. You'll remember? He dared not trust himself to speak, but as she held out the rose to him, he took it from her hand, and involuntarily his fingertips came in contact with hers just for a second, long enough for the divine magnetism of his great love to pass from him to her. She seized hold of his hand, for in that one magnetic touch she had, recognized him. Her heart gave a great leap of joy, the joy of being near him once more, of again feeling the tender gray eyes, resting with passionate longing on her face. But she uttered neither cry nor word, for it was a great, silent, and godlike moment when at last she understood.

Starting point is 08:41:36 He had stooped still lower and rested his burning lips upon her cool fingers and upon the rose which she had worn at her breast. Neither of them spoke, for their hearts were in perfect unison, their whole being thrilled with the wild, jubilant echo of a divine Hosanna, and around them the legions of God's angels made a rampart, of snow-white wings to shut out all the universe from them, leaving them alone with their love. End of Chapter 33. Chapter 34 of Bobrocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Libravox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah.

Starting point is 08:42:36 A Life for a Life. That moment was brief, as all such great and happy moments are. But a few seconds had passed since both her hands had rusted in his, and he forgot the world in that one kiss upon her fingertips. The next instant, a fast-approaching noise of hurrying footsteps, accompanied by much shouting, roused them from their dream. Both through the back and the front door, a crowd of excited soldiers had pushed their way into the inn, whilst the folk in the bar-parlour, attracted by the sudden noise, pressed out into the narrow passage to see what was happening. John Stitch, foremost amongst these, made a rush

Starting point is 08:43:29 for patients' side. She found herself suddenly pressed back towards the foot of of the stairs and face to face with a noisy group of village folk, through which the sergeant and some half-dozen soldiers were roughly pushing their way. She looked round her, helpless and bewildered. Jack Bathurst had disappeared. The whole thing had occurred in the brief space of a few seconds, even before patients had had time to realize that anything was amiss. The narrow staircase at the foot of which she now stood led straight up to the private parlor, where Philip was even now awaiting her return. Out of the way, you rascals, the sergeant was shouting, whilst elbowing his way through this small group of gaping yokels and pressing forward towards the stairs.

Starting point is 08:44:32 Will your ladyship allow me the privilege of conducting. you out of this crowd, said a suave voice at patience's elbow. Sir Humphrey Challoner, closely followed by the obsequious midditchip, had pushed his way into the inn, in the wake of the soldiers, and was now standing between her and the crowd, bowing very deferentially, and offering her his arm to conduct her upstairs. But a few moments ago, he had a few moments ago, he had a heard the startling news that Jock Miggs had been captured on the heath in mistake for Beau Brocade. As far as Sir Humphrey could ascertain, nothing of importance had been found on the shepherd's person, and in a moment he realized that, through almost supernatural cunning, the highwayman

Starting point is 08:45:29 must have succeeded in filching the letters, and by now had no doubt once more. restored them to lady patients. All the scheming, the lying, the treachery of the past few days had therefore been in vain, but Sir Humphrey-Challoner was not the man to give up a definite purpose after the first material check to his plans. If her ladyship was once more in possession of the letters, they must be got away from her again. That was all. And if that, cursed highwayman was still free today said death but he'll have to hang on the morrow. In the meanwhile, Phillips' momentary safety was a matter of the greatest moment to Sir Humphrey challoner. If that clumsy lout of a sergeant got hold of the lad all Sir Humphrey's

Starting point is 08:46:28 schemes for forcing Lady Patience's acceptance of his suit by means of the precious letters, would necessarily fall to the ground. But instinctively, patience recoiled from him. His suave words, his presence near her at this terrible crisis, frightened her more effectually than the sergeant's threatening attitude. She drew close to John Stitch, who had interposed his burly figure between the soldiers and the foot of the stairs. Out of the way, John Stitch, shouted the sergeant, peremptorily, this is not your forge, remember, and by God, I'll not be tricked again. Those are her ladyship's private rooms, retorted the smith, without yielding one inch of the ground.

Starting point is 08:47:23 Landlord, he shouted at the top of his voice, I call upon you to protect her ladyship from these ruffians. You insult His Majesty's uniform, quoth the Sergeant briefly, and do yourself no good, Smith. As for the landlord of this inn, he interferes between me and my duty at his peril. By what right do you interfere with me, Master Sergeant? here interposed lady patients trying to assume an indifferent air of calm haughtiness. Do you know who I am? I, that I do, my lady, responded the sergeant gruffly, and that's what's brought me here this morning. Not half an hour ago, I heard that Lady Patience, Gascoigne, was staying at the packhorse,

Starting point is 08:48:19 and now the folks say that a new serving man came to give a helping hand here. He arrived in the middle of the night, it seems. Strange time for a serving man to turn up, ain't it? I know nothing of any servant at this inn, and I order you at once to withdraw your men and not to dare further to molest me. Your pardon, my lady, but my orders. is my orders. I have been sent here by his royal highness, the Duke of Cumberland, himself, to hunt out all the rebels who are in hiding in these parts. I've strict orders to be on the lookout

Starting point is 08:49:04 for Philip James Gascoigne, Earl of Stratton, who I understand is your ladyship's own brother. And as I've a right of search, I mean to see who else is staying in the same. those rooms upstairs besides your ladyship. This is an outrage, sergeant. Maybe, my lady, he retorted dryly, but with us soldiers' orders is orders, saving your presence. I was tricked at the smithy, and again on the heath. My belief is that we were hunting a bogey last night. There may or mayn't be any highwayman called bow brocade, but there was a fine young gallant at the forge the day of four yesterday, who did for me and my men, and I'll take my oath that he was none other than the rebel, Philip Gascoigne, Earl of Stratton. Tis false,

Starting point is 08:50:06 and you talk like a madman, sergeant. Maybe, but your ladyship will please stand aside until I've searched those rooms upstairs, or I'll have to order my men to lay hands on your ladyship. Now then, John Stitch, stand aside in the name of the king. John Stitch did not move, and Lady Patience still stood defiant and haughty at the foot of the stairs. The villagers, stolid and stupid, were staring open-mouthed, not daring to interfere. But, of course, course it was only a question of seconds. The worthy Smith could not guard the staircase for long against the sergeant and a dozen soldiers, and in any case nothing would be of any avail. Philip, in the room upstairs, was trapped like a fox in its lair, and nothing could save him now

Starting point is 08:51:06 from falling into the soldier's hands. In vain she sought for Bathurst among the crowd, with wild unreasoning agony, she longed for him in this moment of her greatest need, and he was not there. She felt sure that if only he were near her, he would think of something, do something to avert the appalling catastrophe. I give your ladyship one minute's time to stand quietly aside, said the sergeant roughly. After that, I give my men order, to lay hands on you and on anyone who dares to interfere. Give me the letters, whispered Sir Humphrey Challoner, insinuatingly, in her ear. I can yet save your brother.

Starting point is 08:51:58 How? she murmured involuntarily. He looked up towards the top of the stairs. Then he is up there. She did not reply. It was useless to deny it. The next few moments would bring the inevitable stand back, Sergeant, quoth John Stitch defiantly. I have the honor to protect her ladyship's person against any outrage from you. Good words, Smith, retorted the sergeant, but I tell ye I've been

Starting point is 08:52:30 tricked twice by you, and I mean to know the reason why. Let her ladyship allow me to search the room upstairs, and I'll not lay hands on her. Ye shall not. You shall not. pass, repeated the Smith obstinately. The letters, whispered Sir Humphrey, give me the letters, and I pledge you my honor that I can save him yet. But half mad with terror and misery, scornful, defiant, she turned on him. Your honor, she said, with infinite contempt. But in her inmost heart, she murmured in agonized despair. What's to be done? Oh, God, protect him. Stand back, John Stitch, repeated the sergeant for the third time, or I give my men the order

Starting point is 08:53:23 to charge. Now then, my men, ye shall not pass, was the Smith's persistent, obstinate answer to the challenge. Forward, shouted the soldier, in a loud voice. Into it, my men, use your bayonets if anyone interferes with ye. The soldiers, nothing loth, were ready for the attack. There had already been too much parleying to suit their taste. They had been baffled too often in the last few days to be in the mood to dally with a woman, be she her ladyship, or no. With a loud cry they made a dash for the stairway, which behind Stitch and Lady Patience lost itself in the gloom above.

Starting point is 08:54:12 of. It was from out this darkness that at this moment, a light-hearted, fresh young voice struck upon the astonished ears of all those present. Nay, too much zeal, friend Stitch, stand aside, I pray you, faith, it'll give me great pleasure to converse with these gallant lobsters. And Jack Bathurst, pushing the bewildered Smith gently to one side, came down the stairs with a smile upon his face calm debonair dressed as for a feast he had discarded jock mig's long smock broad-brimmed hat and kerchief and appeared in all the gorgeous finery of the beautiful lavender-scented clothes he had donned at the forge with the kindly aid of Mistress Stitch. He was still very pale, and there were a few lines of weariness and of bodily pain round the firm, sensitive mouth, but his gray eyes, deep sunk and magnetic, glowed with the keen fire of intense excitement.

Starting point is 08:55:27 The coat of fine blue cloth set off his tall trim figure to perfection. His left hand was tucked into the opening of his exquisitely embroidered waistcoat, and dainty ruffles of delicate mechlin lace adorned his nutcloth and wrists. As he appeared there, handsome, foppish, and smiling, "'Twas no wonder that the countryside had nicknamed him Bo Brocade. "'Well, my gallant friend,' he said, addressing the sergeant, "'since the latter seemed too astonished to speak, "'What is it you want with me, eh?'

Starting point is 08:56:10 "'The sergeant was gradually recovering his breath. "'Fate apparently was playing into his hands. "'It was almost too bewildering "'for any bluff soldier, to realize, but it certainly seemed pretty clear that the rebel Earl of Stratton and Beau Brocade, the highwayman, were one and the same person. You are Philip Gascoigne, Earl of Stratton, he asked at last. Faith, you've guessed that, have you? responded Bathurst gaily. Odds life, tis marvelous, how much penetration lies hidden beneath that,

Starting point is 08:56:52 coming coat of yours. Then Philip Gascoigne, Earl of Stratton, you are a tainted by Parliament for high treason, and I arrest you in the name of the king. There were indeed many conflicting emotions raging in the hearts of all those present, whilst this brief colloquy was going on. John Stitch, accustomed to implicit obedience, where his captain's actions were concerned. had not dared to speak or stir. Sir Humphrey Challoner, completely thrown off his mental balance by the unexpected appearance of Bathurst, was hastily trying to make up his bewildered mind as to what was now best to be done. As to patience herself, at first, a great and overwhelming joy and pride had seized her at the thought that he was near her now, that he had not deserted her

Starting point is 08:57:56 in the hour of her greatest need, that once again he had interposed his magnetic, powerful personality between her and the danger which threatened her and Philip. It was only when the sergeant's momentous words, I arrest you in the name of the king, rang out clearly, and decisively above the loud tumult, which was beating in her heart, that she became aware of the deadly peril which threatened the man she loved. True, he had come once more between her and danger, but once again he had done it at risk of his life and was like, at last, to lay it down for her. She had been standing a little to one side, turning, as all had done, toward the elegant, foppish figure in the fine clothes and dainty ruffles of lace,

Starting point is 08:58:57 but now she stepped forward with mad, unreasoning impulse, thrusting herself between him and the sergeant, and trying to shield him behind the folds of her cloak. No, no, no, no. No, No, no, she said excitedly, Sergeant tis all a mistake, I swear. But already Jack Bathurst had bent forward and had contrived to whisper unheard by all save her. Hush, sh! Your brother, remember his danger. Your pardon, lady, said the sergeant, seeing that she paused, irresolute, not knowing what to do, in face of this terrible alternative which was confronting her. Your pardon, lady, but this gentleman is Philip, Earl of Stratton, is he not?

Starting point is 08:59:53 For your brother's sake, whispered Bathurst once more. No, yes, oh my God, murmured patience, in the agony of this appalling misery. Her brother, or the man she loved, one or the other, betrayed by one. one word from her, now at this moment, with no time to pray to God for help or guidance, no chance of giving her own life for both. Out on you, friend, said Bathurst lightly. Do you not see her ladyship is upset? Nay, have no fear, I'll follow you quietly, he added,

Starting point is 09:00:35 seeing that the sergeant and his soldiers were making a motion to surround him. but you'll grant me leave to say farewell to my sister. The sergeant could not very well refuse. He was at heart a humane man, and now that he was sure of this important capture, he would have done a good deal to ingratiate himself through little acts of courtesy with Lady Patience Gascoigne. However, he had no mind to be tricked again, and in face of an almost immediate execution for high treason, the prisoner seemed extraordinarily self-possessed and cheerful. But for her ladyship's obvious despair and sorrow, the worthy sergeant might even now have had some misgivings. As it was, he told off three men to mount the stairs and to stand on guard at the top of them in case the prisoner made a dash that way,

Starting point is 09:01:42 in the hopes of reaching the roof. The sergeant still kept an idea in his mind that some supernatural agency was at work in favor of this extraordinary man, who up to now had seemed to bear a charmed life. He had the little narrow passage and hall of the inn cleared, of the gaping yokels who went off one by one, scratching their adult pals, wondering what it all meant, and who was Beau Brocade? Was he the Earl of Stretton? Was he the highwayman? Or some pixie from the heath, with power to change himself at will? Sir Humphrey Challoner retired within the shadow of the stairway. On the whole, he preferred to leave the events to

Starting point is 09:02:35 shape their own course. In one way, fate had befriended him. Whether hanged in his own name or in that of the Earl of Stretton, the highwayman would within the next few hours be safely out of the way, and then it would be easier, no doubt, to obtain possession of the letters once again. He, too, like the sergeant and soldiers, felt an instinctive dread of superiors. supernatural agency in connection with bow brocade. In these days, there existed still a deeply rooted belief in witchcraft, and the educated classes were not altogether proof against the popular superstitions. Sir Humphrey had a curious, intense hatred for the man who had so chivalrously championed Lady Patience's cause. His own love for her was so

Starting point is 09:03:35 selfish and lustful, that overpowering jealousy formed its chief characteristic. He was frantically madly jealous of Jack Bathurst, for with the keen eyes of the scorned suitor he had noted the look of joy and pride in her face when the young man first appeared on the stairs, and he, alone of all those present, knew how to interpret her obvious despair. her terrible misery, when brought face to face with the awful alternative of giving up her brother, or the man she loved. Sir Humphrey swore some heavy oaths under his breath at thought of the scorn with which she had rejected him. Woman-like, she had yielded to the blandishments of that thief, and proud Lady Patience Gascoigne had fallen in love with a high-house.

Starting point is 09:04:35 way man. But now fate meant to be kind to Sir Humphrey. With that chivalrous cox comb out of the way, Lady Patience would be once more at his mercy. Philip was still a fugitive under the ban of a tanger, and the letters could be got hold of once again, unless, indeed, the devil, with an army of witches and evil sprites came to the assistance of that rascal, Bo Brocade. End of Chapter 34. Chapter 35 of Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Libravox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. Quits.

Starting point is 09:05:31 Hemmed in by a compact little group of soldiers at the the foot of the stairs, and with three men on guard at the head of it, Bathurst and Patience had but a few minutes in which to live these last brief moments of their love. She clung passionately to him, throwing aside all the haughty reserve of her own proud nature, conquered by her great love, a woman only whose very life was bound up in his. They shall not take you, she moaned in the agony of her despair. They shall not. I will not let you go.

Starting point is 09:06:15 And he held her in his arms now, savoring with exquisite delight, this happiest moment of his life, the joy of feeling her tender form clinging to him in passionate sorrow, to see the tears gathering in her blue eyes one by one, for him, and to know that her love, her great, measureless, divine love, was at last wholly his. But the moments were brief, and the sergeant below was already waxing impatient. He drew her gently into a dark angle of the stairs up against the banisters, and taking the packet of letters from his pocket, he pressed them into her hand. The letters quick, he whispered,

Starting point is 09:07:07 God guard you and him. The letters, she murmured mechanically, I, I can do nothing now, but try to see the Duke of Cumberland before you go to London, show him the letters. He may be in this village today. If not, you can see him at Worksworth.

Starting point is 09:07:30 He has power to stay execution, even if your brother is arrested. He might use it if he had seen the letters. Yes, yes, she murmured. Sorrow seemed to have dazed her. She did not quite know what she was doing, but her left hand closed instinctively over the precious packet, then dropped listlessly by her side. Neither she nor Bathurst had perceived a thin, attenuated figure hoisting itself monkey-wise over the dark portion of the banisters. Try and hear what those two are saying, Sir Humphrey had whispered, and the attorney, obedient and obsequious, had made a desperate effort to do as he was bid.

Starting point is 09:08:25 The staircase was but partially lighted by a glimmer of daylight. light, which came slanting round the corner from the passage. The banisters were in complete shadow, and the sergeant and soldiers were too intent on watching their prisoner to notice Master Mitterchip or Sir Humphrey. The next moment patience felt a terrific wrench on all her fingers, even as she uttered a cry of pain and alarm, the packet of letters was torn out of her hand from behind, and she was dimly conscious of a dark figure clambering over the banisters and disappearing into the darkness below. But with a mad cry of rage, Jack Bathurst had bounded after that retreating figure. Wholly taken by surprise, he only saw the dim outline of Middichips' attention.

Starting point is 09:09:28 tenuated form, as the latter hastily dropped the packet of letters at Sir Humphrey challoner's feet, who stooped to pick them up. Like an infuriated wild beast, Jack fell on Sir Humphrey. You limb of Satan, he gasped, you, you, give me back those letters. Stitch, stitch, quick. The force of the impact had thrown both men to. the ground. Bathurst was gripping his antagonist by the throat with fingers of steel. But already, the sergeant and his men had come to the rescue, dragging Jack away from the prostrate figure of Sir Humphrey, whilst the soldiers from above had run down and were forcibly keeping John's stitch in check. Freed from his powerful antagonist, his honor quietly,

Starting point is 09:10:28 picked himself up, readjusted his crumpled neckcloth, and flicked the dust from off his coat. He was calmly thrusting the packet of letters in his pocket, whilst the sergeant was giving orders to his men to bind their prisoner securely if he offered further resistance. Sargent said Bathurst, despairingly, that miscreant has just stolen some letters belonging to her ladyship. Silence, prisoner, commented the sergeant, you do yourself no good by this violence. It seemed as if fate meant to underline this terrible situation with a final stroke of her ironical pen. For just then, the quiet village street beyond suddenly came alive with repeated joyous shouts and noise of tramping feet. In a moment,

Starting point is 09:11:28 the dull monotonous air of Brassington was filled with a magnetic excitement, which seemed to pervade all its inhabitants at once, and even penetrated within the small dingy inn, where the last act of a momentous drama was at this moment being played. It must be the Duke of Cumberland's army, quoth the sergeant, straining his ears to catch the sound of a fast-approaching cavalcade. Then you'll please his royal highness with the smart capture you've made, Sergeant, said Sir Humphrey, with easy condescension. This was indeed fate's most bitter irony. The Duke has power to stay execution and would use it if you showed him the letters. These were the last words of counsel Bathurst had given patience,

Starting point is 09:12:28 and now with freedom for her brother, almost within her grasp, she was powerless to do aught to save him. The letters, Sir Humphrey, she murmured imploringly, and you've a spark of honor left in you. Nay, he retorted under his breath with truly savage triumph, and you don't close your lover's mouth. I'll hand your brother over to these soldiers too, and then destroy. the letters before your eyes. He turned, and for a moment regarded with an almost devilish sneer, the spectacle of his enemy rendered helpless at last. Bathurst, like some fettered lion, caught in a trap, was still making frantic efforts to free himself until a violent wrench on his wounded shoulder threw him half unconscious on his knees.

Starting point is 09:13:28 Ha, ha, ha, laughed Sir Humphrey. I think my chivalrous friend, you and I are even at last. Come, prisoner, you'd best follow me quietly now, said the sergeant, touched in spite of himself by patience's terrible sorrow. But at Sir Humphrey's final taunt, Jack Bathurst, had shaken off the deadly feeling of sickness, which was beginning to conquer. him. He threw back his head, and with the help of the soldiers struggled again to his feet, the clamor outside was beginning to be louder and more continuous. Through it all came the inspiriting sound of a fast-approaching regimental band. The Duke of Cumberland, is it, Sergeant? He said, suddenly, marching through the village on his way to the north, assented the sergeant.

Starting point is 09:14:28 Now, then, prisoner. Nay, then, Sergeant, shouted Jack, in a loud voice, as wrenching his right arm from the grasp of the soldier who held him. He pointed to Sir Humphrey Challoner. Detain that man, and I am the rebel Earl of Stratton. He was my accomplice, and has all the papers relating to our great conspiracy at this moment about his person. the door, the door, he added excitedly,

Starting point is 09:15:01 Take care, he'll escape you, and he has papers on him now that would astonish the king. Instinctively, the soldiers had rushed for both the doorways, and when Sir Humphrey, with a shrug of the shoulders, made a movement as if to go, the sergeant barred the way and said, one moment, sir, you would dare? retorted Sir Humphrey haughtily, Are you such a consummate fool as not to see that that man is raving mad? Search him, Sergeant, continued Bathurst excitedly. You'll find the truth of what I say.

Starting point is 09:15:43 Search him. Her ladyship knows he was my accomplice. Search him. The loss of those papers would cost you your stripes. The sergeant was not a little perplexed. Already the day before, the seizure of Sir Humphrey Challoner's person had been attended with disastrous consequences for the Beatle of Brassington, and now, no doubt the sergeant would never have ventured, but the near approach of the Duke of Cumberland's army and of his own superior officers gave the worthy soldier a certain amount of confidence. He had full rights and powers of surge and had been sent to this part of the country to hunt for rebels. He had been tricked and hoodwinked more often than he cared to remember,

Starting point is 09:16:40 and he knew that his superior officers would never blame him for following up a clue, even if thereby he was somewhat overstepping his powers. The papers continued Bathurst, the papers which will prove his guilt, the papers, or he'll destroy them. The sergeant gave a last look at his prisoner. He seemed secure enough guarded by three men who were even now strapping his hands behind his back. The accusation, therefore, could be no trick to save his own skin, and who knows, if the Earl's of Stratton was a rebel lord, then why not the squire of Hardington? Seize him and search him, commanded the sergeant in the name of the king. Your pardon, sir, he added deferentially, but the Duke of Cumberland is within earshot almost, and I should be cashiered if I neglected my duty.

Starting point is 09:17:47 This is an outrage, cried Sir Humphrey, who had become purple with rage. It's doing your honor no harm. And if I've done wrong, no doubt I shall be punished. Search him, my men. It was Sir Humphrey's turn now to be helpless in the hands of the soldiers. He knew quite well that the sergeant was within his duty and would certainly not get punished for this. Worse outrages than this attempt on his august person had been committed in the Midlands on important personages on women and even children during this terrible campaign against fugitive rebels.

Starting point is 09:18:34 Less than five seconds had elapsed when the soldier drew the packet of letters from Sir Humphrey's pocket and handed it to his sergeant. They'd best be for his royal highness's own inspection, said the latter quietly, as he slipped them inside his scarlet coat. I, for his royal highness, quoth Jack Bathurst, in mad, wild, feverish glee. Oh, now is it that your honor thought you could be even with me? What? Sir Humphrey was speechless, with the hopelessness of his baffled rage. But patience, almost hysterical with the intensity of her relief after the terrible suspense which she had just endured,

Starting point is 09:19:25 had fallen back half-fainting against the stairs and murmuring the letters before His Royal Highness, thank God, thank God. Then suddenly she drew herself up and laughing, laughing, crying, joyous, happy, she flew upstairs, shouting, Philip, Philip, come down, come down, you are safe. End of Chapter 35. Chapter 36 of Beau Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Liprovax recording is in the public domain, recording by Dion Gines, Salt Lake City, Utah. parting. About half an hour ago, when Jack Bathurst suddenly burst in upon Lord Stratton in the dingy little parlor upstairs, he gave the lad no inkling of what was happening down below.

Starting point is 09:20:33 He had hastily discarded Jock Miggs's smock and hat and extracted a solemn promise from Philip, not to stir from the parlor, whatever might be the tumult downstairs. Then he had left the boy chafing like a wild beast in its cage. The heavy oak doors and thick walls of the old-fashioned inn deadened all the sounds from below, and Bathurst had taken the precaution of locking the door behind him. But for this, no doubt Philip. would have broken his word sooner than allow his chivalrous friend once more to risk his life for him.

Starting point is 09:21:21 As the noise below grew louder and louder, Stratton became more and more convinced that some such seem, as had been enacted a day or two ago at the forge, was being repeated in the hall of the pack-horse. He tried with all his might to force open the door, which held him imprisoned, and threw his full weight against it once or twice, in a vain endeavor to break the thick, oaken panels. But the old door, fashioned of stout, well-seasoned wood, resisted all his efforts, whilst the noise he made thereby never reached the ears of the excited throng. Like a fettered lion, he paced up and down the narrow floor of the dingy inn parlor, chafing under restraint, humiliated at the thought of being unable to join in the

Starting point is 09:22:25 fight that was being made for his safety. His sister's cry came to him in this agonizing moment, like the most joyful, the most welcome call to arms. The door, quick, he shouted as loudly as he could. It is locked. She found the bolt and tore open the door, and the next instant he was running downstairs, closely followed by patience. The sergeant and soldiers had been not a little puzzled at hearing her ladyship, suddenly calling in mad exultation on her brother, whom they believed, they were even now holding prisoner. The appearance of Philip at the foot of the stairs, and dressed in a serving man's suit, further enhanced their bewilderment. But already patience

Starting point is 09:23:24 stood proud, defiant, and almost feverish in her excitement, confronting the astonished group of soldiers. This sergeant, she said, taking hold of her brother's hand, is Philip Gascoigne, Earl of Stretton, my brother. Arrest him, if you wish, he surrenders to you willingly, but I call upon you to let your prisoner go free. The sergeant was sorely perplexed. The affair was certainly getting too complicated for his stolid, unimaginative brain. He would have given much to relinquish command of this puzzling business. altogether. Then you, sir, he said, addressing Philip, you are the Earl of Stratton. I am Philip James Gascoigne, Earl of Stratton, your prisoner, sergeant, replied the lad proudly.

Starting point is 09:24:25 But then, saving your ladyship's presence, said the soldier in hopeless bewilderment, who the devil is my prisoner. Surely, Sergeant, quoth Sir Humphrey, with a malicious sneer. You've guessed that already. Jack Bathurst, exhausted and faint after his long fight and victory, had listened, motionless, and silent to what was going on around him. With the letters safely bestowed in the sergeant's wallet and about to be placed before his royal highness, the Duke of Cumberland himself, he felt that indeed his task was accomplished. Fate had allowed him the infinite happiness of having served his beautiful white rose to some purpose. Philip now would be practically safe. What happened to himself after that,

Starting point is 09:25:24 he cared but little. At sound of Sir Humphrey's malicious taunt, an amused smile played round the corners of his quivering mouth, but patience with a rapid movement had interposed herself between Sir Humphrey and the sergeant. Your silence, Sir Humphrey, she commanded excitedly, and you've any chivalry left in you. Aye, he replied in her ear. my silence now at a price. Name it. Your hand. So low and quick had been questions and answers that the bewildered sergeant and his soldiers had not succeeded in catching the meaning of the words, but Sir Humphrey's final eager whisper, Your Hand, reached Jack Bathurst's sensitive ear. The look, too, in the squire of Hardington's face had already enabled him to guess the purport of the brief colloquy.

Starting point is 09:26:31 Nay, Sir Humphrey challoner, he said loudly, but tis not a marketable commodity you are offering to this lady for sale. I'll break your silence for you. What is the information that you would impart to these gallant lobsters? that besides being my mother's son, I am also the highwayman, Beau Brocade. No, no, no, protested patience excitedly. Odds my life, quoth the sergeant, but methought. I, bow brocade, said Sir Humphrey, with a sneer, robber, vagabond, and thief. That's what this gentleman means.

Starting point is 09:27:16 faith, is that what I meant? retorted Jack Bathurst lightly. I didn't know it for sure. But with a wild cry, patience had turned to the sergeant. It's a lie, Sergeant, she repeated, a lie, I tell you. This gentleman is, my friend, my, well, whichever you are, sir, quoth the Sergeant, turning to bow brocade decisively. Lord or Highwaymen, you are my prisoner, and, he added roughly, for many bitter remembrances of the past two days, had surged up in his stolid mind, and either way you hang for it. I hang for it, continued Sir Humphrey savagely, so now methinks, my chivalrous young friend, that we can cry quits at last. And now, Sergeant, said his honor, peremptorily, that you've found out the true character of your interesting prisoner.

Starting point is 09:28:24 You can restore me my letters, which he caused you to filch from me. But the sergeant was not prepared to do that. He had been tricked and hoodwinked so often that he would not yield one iota of the advantage which he had contrived to gain. Your pardon, sir, he said deferentially, yet firmly, I don't exactly know the rights of that. I think I'd best show them to his royal highness, and you, sir, will be good enough to explain yourself

Starting point is 09:29:02 before his honor, Squire West. You'll suffer for this insolence, Sergeant, retorted Sir Humphrey, purple with rage. I command you to return me those letters, and I warn you that if you dare lay hands on me or hinder me in any way, I'll have you degraded and publicly whipped along with that ape, the beetle. But the sergeant merely shrugged his shoulders and ordered off three of his men to surround Sir Humphrey Challoner, and to secure his hands if he attempted to resist. His honor's wild threats of revenge did not in the least frighten the soldier

Starting point is 09:29:49 now that he felt himself on safe ground at last. The rapid approach of the army gave him a sense of security. He knew that if he had erred through excess of zeal, a reprimand would be the only punishment meted out. to him, whilst he risked being degraded if he neglected his duty. Whether the squire of Hardington had or had not been a party to the late rebellion, he neither knew nor cared, but certainly he was not going to give up a packet of letters over which there had been so much heated discussion on both sides. The fast approaching tumult in the street,

Starting point is 09:30:38 confirmed him in his resolve. He turned a deaf ear to all Sir Humphrey's protestations, and only laughed at his threats. Already the soldiers were chafing with eagerness to see the entry of his Royal Highness with his staff. The village folk, one by one, had gone out to see the more joyful proceedings, and left the sergeant and his prisoners to continue their anima. discussion. Are you ready, my lord? asked the sergeant, turning to Philip. Quite ready, replied the lad, cheerfully, as he prepared to follow the soldiers. He gave his sister a look of joy and hope, for he was going to temporary imprisonment only. Within a few moments, perhaps, his safety would be assured.

Starting point is 09:31:33 Lady Patience Gascoigne, in virtue of her rank and position could easily obtain an audience of the Duke of Cumberland. And in the meanwhile, the letters proving Philip's innocence would have been laid before His Royal Highness. No wonder that as the lad, marching lightheartedly between two soldiers passed close to Jack Bathurst, he held out his hand to his brave rescuer in gratitude too deep for words. Are you ready, sir? Quoth the sergeant now, as he turned to Beaubrocade. But here there was no question of either joy or hope, no defense, no proofs of innocence. The daring outlaw had chosen his path in life, and being conquered at the last, had to pay the extreme penalty, which his country demanded of him for having defied its laws. As he too prepared to follow the soldiers out into the open, patience heedless of the men around her clung passionately, despairingly, to the man who had sacrificed his brave life in her service

Starting point is 09:32:54 and whom she had rewarded with the intensity, the magnitude of her love. They shall not take you, she sobbed, throwing her protecting arms round the dearly loved form. They shall not. They shall not. The cry had been so bitter, so terribly pathetic in its despair, that instinctively the soldiers stood aside, odd in spite of their stolid hearts, at the majesty of this great sorrow. They turned respectfully away, leaving a clear space round patience and Bathurst. Thus, for a moment, he had her all to himself passive in her despair half crazed with her grief clinging to him with all the passionate abandonment of her great love for him what tears he whispered gently as with a tender hand he pressed back the graceful drooping head and looked into her eyes one two three four glittering diamonds and for me

Starting point is 09:34:07 my sweet dream, he added, the intensity of his passion, causing his low, tender voice to quiver in his throat, my beautiful white rose. But yesterday, for one of those glittering tears, I'd gladly have endured hell's worst tortures. And today they flow freely for me. Why, I would not change places with a king. Your life, your brave, noble life, thus sacrificed for me. Oh, why did I ever cross your path? Nay, my dear, he said with an infinity of tenderness and an infinity of joy. Faith, it must have been because God's angels took pity on a poor vagabond and let him get this early glimpse of paradise. his fingers wandered lovingly over her soft golden hair he held her close very close to his heart drinking in every line of her exquisite loveliness rendered almost ethereal through the magnitude of her sorrow her eyes shining with passion through her tears the delicate curve of throat and chin the sensitive quivering nostrils the moist lips

Starting point is 09:35:35 on which anon he would dare to imprint a kiss. And life, now to me, she whispered, twixt, heart-broken sobs, what will it be? How shall I live, but in one long memory? My life, my saint, he murmured, nay, lift your dear face up to me again. Let me take away as a last memory, the radiant vision of your eyes, your hair, your lips. His arms tightened round her. Her head fell back as if in a swoon. She closed her eyes, and her soul went out to him in the ecstasy of that first kiss. Ah, tis a lovely dream I dreamt'n't, he whispered, and tis meet, that the awakening shall be only in death. He tried to let her go, but she clung to him passionately, her arms round him in the agony of her despair. Take me with you, she sobbed, half-fainting,

Starting point is 09:36:43 I cannot bear it, I cannot. Gently he took hold of both her hands, and again and again, pressed them to his lips. Farewell, sweet dream, he said, there, dry those lovely tears. If you only knew how happy I am, you would not mourn for me. I have spun the one thread in life, which was worth the spinning, the thread which binds me to your memory. Farewell. The sergeant stepped forward again. It was time to go. Are you ready, sir? He asked, kindly. Quite ready, sergeant. She slid out of his arms. her eyes quite dry now, her hands pressed to her mouth to smother her screams of misery. She watched the soldiers fall into line with their prisoner in their midst and turned to the doorway of the inn, through which the golden sunshine came gaily peeping in. Outside, a roll of drums was heard and shouts of the Duke, the Duke, the excitement had become electrical. His Royal Highness, mounted on a magnificent white charger, was making his entry into the village

Starting point is 09:38:06 at the head of his general staff, and followed at some distance by the bulk of his army corps, who would camp on the heath for the night. Squire West, his stiff old spine doubled in two, was in attendance on the green, holding a parchment in his hand, which contained his loyal address and that of the inhabitants of Bresington. The beetle, more pompous than ever, and resplendent in blue cloth and gold lace, stood immediately behind his honor. In the midst of all this gaiety and joyful excitement, the silent group, composed of the soldiers with their three prisoners appeared in strange and melancholy contrast. Philip and Bathurst were to be confined in the courthouse under a strong guard,

Starting point is 09:39:05 pending his honor the squire's decision. And as the little squad emerged upon the green, twas small wonder that they caught his royal highness's eye. He had been somewhat bored by Squire West's long-winded harangue, and was quite glad of an excuse for cutting it short. Od's buds, he said, and what have we here, eh? The sergeant and soldiers stood still at attention, some 20 yards away from the brilliant group of His Highness's general staff. The little diversion had caused Squire West to lose the thread of his speech, and much relieved, the Duke beckoned the sergeant to draw nearer.

Starting point is 09:39:56 Who are your prisoner's sergeant? Quiried His Highness, looking with some interest at the two young men, one of whom was a mere lad, whilst the other had a strange look of joy and pride in his pale face, an air of of aloofness and detachment from all his surroundings, which puzzled and interested the Duke not a little. Tis a bit difficult to explain, Your Royal Highness, replied the sergeant, making the stiff military salute.

Starting point is 09:40:32 Difficult to explain who your prisoners are, left the Duke incredulously. Saving your Highness's presence, responded the sergeant, one of these gentlemen, is Philip Gascoigne, Earl of Stratton. Oh, ho, the young reprobate rebel, who was hand-in-glove with the pretender. I mind his case well, sergeant, and the capture does your zeal great credit. Which of your prisoners is the Earl of Stratton? That's just my trouble, your royal highness, but I hope that these papers will explain. And the sergeant drew from his

Starting point is 09:41:14 wallet, the precious packet of letters, and handed them respectfully to the Duke. What are these letters? They were found on the person of that gentleman, sir, replied the sergeant, indicating Sir Humphrey challoner, who stood behind the two younger men, silent and sulky, and nursing desperate thoughts of revenge. He is said to be an accomplice, and I thought twas my dearer. I thought twas my duty to bring him before a magistrate. If I've done wrong, you've done quite right, Sergeant, said the Duke firmly. You were sent here to rid the country of rebels, whom an act of parliament has convicted of high treason, and it had been gross neglect of duty not to refer such a case to the nearest magistrate. Give me the papers. I'll look through them anon. See your present.

Starting point is 09:42:14 safely under guard, then come back to my quarters. Damnation, muttered Sir Humphrey, as he saw the duke take the packet of letters from the sergeant's hand and then turn away to listen to the fag end of Squire West's loyal address. Throughout his chagrin, however, the squire of Hardington was able to gloat over one comforting idea. He had now lost all chance of pressing his suit on Lady Patience. His actions in the past three days would inevitably cause her to look upon him with utter hatred and contempt. But the man who was the cause of his failure, the chivalrous and meddlesome highwayman, bow brocade, would as sure as the sun would set this night, dangle, on the nearest gibbet tomorrow. End of Chapter 36. Chapter 37 of

Starting point is 09:43:25 Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Libravox recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. Reparation It was in the middle of the afternoon when His Royal Highness, having attended to other important affairs and partaken of a hasty meal at the Royal George, finally found leisure to look through the letters handed up to him by the sergeant. As he read one through and then the other, Lord Lovett's letter urging the Earl of Stratton to join the rebellion, that of Kilmernock, upbraiding the lad for holding aloof, and finally the autograph of Charles Edward himself, at the end of a long string of reproaches, calling Philip a traitor for his loyalty to King George.

Starting point is 09:44:27 There has been a terrible blunder here, quoth his royal highness, emphatically, bring the Earl of Stratton to me at once, he added, speaking to his orderly. Ten minutes later, Philip, with patience by his side, was in the presence. of the Duke of Cumberland, who, on behalf of his country and its government, was tendering apologies to the Earl of Streaton for grievous blunders committed. It seems you have suffered unjustly, my lord, said His Highness, with easy graciousness, it will be my privilege to keep you under my personal protection until these letters have been placed before the king and counsel. I myself will guarantee your brother's safety. Lady Patience, he added, turning with a genial smile to her. You will entrust him to my care, will you not? Your father and I

Starting point is 09:45:32 were old friends, you know, in my young days I had the pleasure of staying at Streaton Hall and the privilege of dandling you on my knees, for you were quite a baby then. I little thought I should have the honor of being of service to you in later years. With courtly gallantry, the Duke raised her cold fingertips to his lips. He looked at her keenly, for he could not understand the almost dead look of hopeless misery in her face, which she bravely, but all in vain, tried to hide from him. Evidently, she was quite unable to speak. When her brother had been brought before His Highness,

Starting point is 09:46:21 she had begged for and easily obtained the favor of being present at the interview, but even at the Duke's most genial and encouraging words, she had not smiled. It was lucky, added his royal high. highness, kindly patting her hand, that so strange of fate should have placed these letters in my hand. But at these gentle, almost fatherly words, patience's self-control entirely gave way. With a heart-broken sob, she threw herself at the Duke's feet. Nay, not fate, your royal highness, she moaned, but the devotion of a brave man,

Starting point is 09:47:08 has sacrificed his life to save my brother and me. Save him, Your Highness, save him. He is noble, brave, loyal, and you are powerful. Save him. Save him. It was impossible to listen unmoved to the heart-rending sorrow expressed in this appeal. The Duke very gently raised her to her feet. nay, fair lady, I pray you rise, he said respectfully, odds my life, but tis not beauty's place to kneel. There, there, he added, leading her to a chair and sitting beside her. You know how to plead a cause. Will you deign to confide somewhat more fully in your humble servant? We owe your family some reparation at any rate. and you some compensation for the sorrow you have endured. And speaking very low at first, then gradually gaining confidence,

Starting point is 09:48:16 patience began to relate the history of the past few days, the treachery of which she had been a victim, the heroic self-sacrifice of the man who was about to lay down his life because of his devotion to her. and to her cause. His Highness listened quietly and very attentively, whilst she, wrapped up in the bitter joy of memory, lived through these last brief and happy days all over again. Even before she had finished, he had sent word to the sergeant to bring both his other prisoners before him at once. Sir Humphrey and Jack Bathurst were actually in the room before patients had quite

Starting point is 09:49:08 completed her narrative. Bathurst, ill and pale, but with that strange air of aloofness, still clinging about his whole person. He seemed scarce to live, for his mind was far away in the land of dreams, dwelling on that last exquisite memory of his beautiful. He seemed scarce to live, for his beautiful white rose, lying passive in his arms, the memory of that first and last divinely passionate kiss. The Duke looked up when the prisoners entered the room, although he knew neither of them by sight, he had no need to ask whose cause the beautiful girl beside him had been pleading so earnestly. What do you wish to say, sir, he said, addressing Sir, Humphrey Challoner first. You are no doubt aware of her ladyship's grievances against you.

Starting point is 09:50:08 They are outside my province, and unfortunately, outside the province of our country's justice. But I would wish to know why you should have pursued the Earl of Stratton and that gentleman, your fellow prisoner, with so much hatred and malice. I have neither hated. I have neither hated. nor malice against the Earl of Stratton, replied Sir Humphrey, with a shrug of the shoulders, but no doubt her ladyship would wish to arouse your Royal Highness's sympathy for a notorious scoundrel. That gentleman is none other than Bo Brocade, the most noted footpad and most consummate thief that ever haunted brassing more. The Duke of Cumberland looked with some surprise, not altogether unmixed with kindness at the slim,

Starting point is 09:51:06 youthful figure of the most notorious highwaymen in England. He felt all a soldier's keen delight in the proud bearing of the man, the straight, clean limbs, the upright, gallant carriage of the head, which neither physical pain nor adverse circumstances had taught how to bend. Then he remembered Lady Patience's enthusiastic narrative and said, smiling indulgently, odds my life, but I did not know gentlemen of the road were so chivalrous. Your Royal Highness, continued Sir Humphrey, silence, sir. Then the Duke rose from his chair and went up, close to Bathurst, who, half-dreaming, had listened to all that was going on around him,

Starting point is 09:52:00 but had scarce heard, for he was looking at patience and thinking only of her. Your name, sir, asked the Duke very kindly, for the look of love akin to worship, which illumined Jack Bathurst's face had made a strong appeal to his own manly heart. Jack Bathurst, replied the young man, almost mechanically, and rousing himself with an effort in response to the Duke's kind words, formerly captain in the White Dragoons. Bathurst, Bathurst, repeated the Duke, not a little puzzled. Ah, yes, he added after a slight pause, who was condemned and cashiered for striking his superior officer after a quarrel. The same, your royal highness, twas colonel Otway, who we found out afterwards, was a scoundrel, a liar, and a cheat, said his highness with sudden eager enthusiasm, and fully deserving the punishment you, sir, had been brave enough to give him. I, he deserved all he got,

Starting point is 09:53:20 replied Jack, with a wistful sigh and smile, I'll take my oath of that. But I remember now, continued the Duke, a tardy reparation was to have been offered you, sir, but you were nowhere to be found. I'd become a scoundrel myself by then, and moneyless, friendless, disgraced, and taken to the road, like many another broken gentleman. then take to the field now, man, exclaimed His Highness gaily, we want good soldiers, and gallant gentlemen such as you, and your country still owes you reparation. You shall come with me, and in the glorious future, which I predict for you, England shall forget your past. He extended a kindly hand to Bathurst, who, still dreaming, still not quite realizing what had happened, instinctively bent the knee

Starting point is 09:54:25 in gratitude. End of Chapter 37. Chapter 38 of Bo Brocade by Baroness Emma Orksey. This Liprovoc's recording is in the public domain, recording by Dionne's Salt Lake City, Utah. The Joy of Reunion. On the Green Outside, the crowd of village folk were shouting themselves hoarse. Three cheers for the Duke of Cumberland. Already the news had gone the round that Beaubrocade, the highwayman, had been granted a special pardon by his royal highness. John Stitch, half crazy with joy, was tossing his cap in the air, and in the fullness of his heart, was stealing a few kisses from mystery. Betty's pretty mouth. The appearance of Sir Humphrey Challoner in the porch of the Royal George,

Starting point is 09:55:30 looking as black as thunder, and followed by his obsequious, familiar Master Middichip, was the signal for much merriment and some quickly suppressed chaff. Stand aside, you fool, quoth Sir Humphrey, pushing Jock Meggs roughly out of his way. Nay, stand aside all of ye admonished John Stitch solemnly, and mind, if any, of ye of God, any turnips about. Begai. The squire of Hardington raised his riding crop menacingly. You dare, he muttered, but Mistress Betty interposed her pretty person, twixt her lover, and his honor's wrath.

Starting point is 09:56:16 Saving your present, sir, she said pertly, my intent was only going to tell the lads to keep their turnips for this old scarecrow. And laughing all over her dimpled little face, she pointed to Master Mitterchip, who was clinging terrified to Sir Humphrey's coattails. Sir Humphrey, he murmured anxiously, as Betty's Sally was received with a salvo of applause. Good, Sir Humphrey, do not let them harm me. I've served you faithfully. you've served me like a fool quoth sir humphrey savagely shaking himself free from the mealy-mouthed attorney damn you he added as he walked quickly out of the crowd and across the green don't yap at my heels like a frightened cur Godspeed, Your Honor, shouted Stitch after him. Think you, John, he'll come to our wedding, murmured Betty, saucily, at which honest John

Starting point is 09:57:24 hugged her with all his might before the entire company. Begui, I marvel if the old fox will go to her ladyships and the captain's wedding, A? Lordy, Lordy, these be amazing times, commented Jobman. miggs vaguely. But within the small parlor of the royal George, all this noise and gaiety only came as a faint merry echo. His royal highness had gone, followed by the sergeant and soldiers, and Bathurst, was alone with his beautiful white rose. And tis to you, I owe my life, he whispered for the 20th time, as kneeling at her feet, he buried his head in the folds of her gown.

Starting point is 09:58:15 I have done so little, she murmured, one poor prayer, when you had done so much. And now, he said, looking straight into the exquisite depths of her blue eyes, now you have robbed me of one great happiness which may never come to me again. robbed you of happiness, the happiness of dying for you. But she looked down at him, smiling now, through a mist of happy tears. Nay, sir, she whispered, and when the Duke has no longer need of you, will you not live for me? He folded her in his arms and held her closely, very closely, to his strong, brave heart. Always at your feet, he murmured passionately, and as your humble slave, my dream.

Starting point is 09:59:12 And as his lips sought hers once more, she whispered under her breath, my husband, my dream, my wife. Outside the crowd of villagers were shouting lustily. Three cheers for the Duke of Cumberland. End of chapter 38. End of Bow Brocade by Baroness Emma Orxie.

Classic Audiobook Collection - Beau Brocade by Baroness E. Orczy ~ Full Audiobook [romance]

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