Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, June 29, 1902, Page 16

THE OMAHA DAILY BEE: to go because knew in he would return again “Fear nothing, aweet wite, SUNDAY, JUNE 20, 1802. time | could not master. If they would but | | would but declare themseives! The very | he sald in | mystery provoked her dread to the ultimate that moment of her gri there Is no pPoint. What business had any man so to prison in England that shall cage Roy of follow or to plague her? She thought at Calverton when he hath the mind to go |one time that she would have sunk to the forth again. Yet if this matter should come |very ground for fear; nor could she utter | to the queen's ears I doubt not that it might |any ery for help nor find & word upon her eerve me. Act as your love of me shall dic- | trembling lips |tate. There will be strange tidings In Lon- | gne said that It was an apparition, but, |don ere many days have passed. but the |,uon genied herself. A harder road gave strangest, surely, shall be those which nueic of hoofs: her own horse cantering | makes mention of this night. God guard |, others to the gallop. She heard men | thee. dear heart, and give thee courage!" |yreathing, the clank of arms, a whisper of |, He doffed his cap and kissed her upon | ,ices. Nay, more, she heard her own bath cheeks and sbe, clinglng to bim a little |,y yyoken, and so gently that all her thelr eyes in bumiliation and thanks. Pe while with great tenderness, promised that oo € S8C TR LR, ML TNt L "and, draw it yours and mine, little wife, 8o o lift she would see the queen that very night. 8% SR WS T, Lo R L L and them ere many suns bave dawned'" Or 1t 1 fail,” she sald, “then will I come | 18, "0 0 TF He has grown A& little serious. she| to thee, dear Roy. Oh, God, be my witness, > e " | “Who are ye—what do ye seek of me thought; for. womanlike, the city delighted 1 will come to thee I e N I s it Rer, and there was, perchance, already in He 4id not answer her, fearing to provoke | = = ' ‘“l m‘ 188 1o the Saddle BOW, N0 Ber mind the hope that when the darke: her tears, and, going out with the men, he |Mi* c4P. and, bowing to : X days were ended and Ollerton remained oree rode contented In their midst toward the TSSO their prize, she, too, might ride again to| river and the barge which there awatted | ' O 1 b s London and there participate in those him. And as he went my lady watched him t ¢ ” " And from others came that good appeal ::::rr'n ”“"'l‘““ O B e At Wi aan Bite e “Ay, L0 serve! to serve! Ye will not craven consolation nor any hope which he s Vanlty, indeed, dear Roy. vet even tordid us, lady had spoken could 1ift that heavy welght of vanity is well it the end be true! Think sadness. For it was in her mind that this My Lady doubted her pursuers no more, me not ingrate it I would speak of Londou was the eternal farewell and that never but gladly—ah, so gladly—she recognized kindly. OB, I love the forest well, yet why, again would Roy of Calverton claim love the voices, and, naming the archers that had followed Roy from Ollerton, and with of her or service Now the Abbot Parkenham had taken them Rene, the page, and Meagre, the dwarf, she cried in her pleasure leave of his guest with unseemly pleasure; | now would he endeavor, now that he was | “Oh, God be thanked that ho has sent my | triends to me this night! gone, to cloak his satisfaction? Eloquent from the first in weary protestation of faith | And with this good company of stout in the rt utlaw set in & gréat oak chair, such a come, dear Roy, but not alone Joyous hour was passed as bad not been |thou not see whom I bring with me? known in that place since Henry's day It was & confession of her great content For who could withstand that droll humor | that she should thus reward him with that or long resist that habit of command |eurprise, but bright was the light of which were the outlaw's birthright ven torches in the chamber, the flame of them Master Bare had a wench upon his knee #0 dazzling to (he that he must look ere the clock struck again twice be 4 the cloaked figure Now, the wine cup passed, and the forest | of a woman treading close upon my lady's legends wore told, and Roy counted that steps. Nor until a little whilo had passed odd audience as the merriest jest that |and he had peered agatn into the gloom was London had yet glven him, when the first he able that the queen stood there of the horsemen rode to the Bulwark gate waited her servant's recognition. and brought the news which awakened the | Thon was my justified. in truth, when ity and sent the riders out. As In a |she heard his joyful confession flash, that gay masquerade was ended, and Your maje it 1 forget those who had just capped the jest, now, this night re nforgotten! in all seriousness, went hurrying to their He koelt at ry's feet, it is written, and houses; the women in affright to the palace |ghe, In turn, dismissing her attendants, ward; the keeper of the cages to his was not unwilling to grant him confidenee. beasts; the master of the jewels to the ‘You are he they call Roy, the outlaw of bauble house, and Master Bare—mindtul of | Calverton " his circumstance—to the lieutenant's lodg- | “A truth, your majesty, but at Sherwood ing, that he might learn If there was need | they name me king.' of him. But ere he went he had changed | “Being lord of a word with Roy, lest his forbearance | felony were charged against him Nay, your majesty “For the kindness that I show thee the people bear me wilt be mindful of my circumstance. They | “Setting up a domaln are like to deal harshly with thee since nelther law nor authority.” this has befallen. Give no word of friend “The law of Chrlst, your majesty, the au- ship for me, or this night's work may cost thority of justice us dear!" He did not cringe before her nor detend And then he added, as himself as one who would seek grace, and tiously his mood pleasing her she went on to re- “As 1 live, thou wouldst laugh an acorn member why she had come to him oft an oak!" “You spake an enlgma to my Lord Gard- To whom Roy answered with a patron's | Iner this morning and asked a promise. reassurance: | “I asked that I might see my queen.” “Fear nothing, Master Bare. The men | ‘“‘Who comes (o hear you and, if the oe- of Kent are up, but assuredly they shall be | casion arise, to prove her gratitude.' down agaln when I go forth. 1 speak | She drew a stool to the bare wooden table with some confidence, but the night shall |and, throwing back the cloak about her justity me. If a prophesy shall help thee, | head, &he show~d him the stern face of & §0 to the constable and say that my Lord | WOmAn harassed by perplexities and seok- Gardiner sups with Roy of Calverton ere | DR counsel of wisdom which heretofore she midnight comes. For his sake, since he|bad not found. The outlaw himself paced @ that the ships then Iy\ were already burned. “And, my lord,” sald he, “and you do not act expeditiously, they will even ride into London with tomorrow's sun!” He spoke a surprising word which, uttered already in the anterooms of the palace, had been as a tocsin sounded there to send horsemen at the gallop from the gates and to call the sleeping guard from i bed The same alarm would wake a sleeping city presently. To the queen and the man who atood with her it came as the dread summons to an encounter which should win all or lose all in that great cause they perved Mary knew the moment of it, in- Qeed, yet she was ever the mistress of a ready courage, and now, that my lord might | Witnees her example, she chose to speak first to my lady before she made the mes- senger repeat his tidings “Let 1t be as you will, child,”" she sald. “Go to this faithful heart that claims triendship for us. We may even need the help of such as he tonight.” She never apake & truer word, says the record. Had she but known what must befall she would have sent my lady out upon a pilllon of gold. For Roy of Cal- verton must save her throne ere many hours had passed CHAPTER VII Condition, circumstance is not the thing. —Pope. The news which the messenger had car- ried to the palace of St. James' wae quickly spread abroad through the city, many riding Dost -00-86-0—% arbara of Ollerton. By MAX PEMBERTON. e ho discers to suy tor and ty Wil eles, let (Copyright, 1901, by Max Pemberton.) CHAPTER 1V Towered cities please us And the busy hum of men —Miiton, in London then. There were maay strangers fn the first year of Mary's reign, for such of the old nobles as Crammer had driven out, flocked again upon her accession and, opening their bouses, they sought in rare display to make good the darker years of banishment. Priests, too, had come from | the Spanish court, and, the prisons belng opened and the old eceleslastics set free, the city wore the air almost of a foreign capital ou pass,” says the chromicle, “as many Spaniards as Englishmen whea you walk | trom Temple Bar to Paul's, while west- | ward at St. James' and in the Minster precincts you may well think yourself a subject of Emperor Charles.” Thus It | Dbefell that the city wore the alr of gayety | wakened and never was the feast more | splendid nor the display of wealth more | ostentatious. Imitating the fashion of | France, newly built coaches began to roll and flounder in the muddy streets by West minster. There were soldiers not a few both of that army which had been ralsed against Northumberland's endeavor and of others necessary to be employed agalnst the lady, as ever we have the forest by right of by right of the love thou which knows though senten- pew conspiracies and the unabated mood of treason. Bishops, too, desired to renew a otyle strange to them since Henry's reign aad much pomp and ceremony atoned for Lutheran neglect. In all the places of public disputation, on ‘change by the cross | at St. Paul's, about the city's gates. many spoke In unmeasured words of the changes which must be, of the new edicts against | the heretics, of times ot doubt and trial | which no lover of the oider order might escape. There were even demagogues to proclaim the queen a bastard and to seek a terment of that brooding uorest. Nome knew from day to day what tomorrow might call upon him to answer. A shadow as of the nation's peril loomed already upon the splendor of the capital Now, Roy of Calverton had little under- standing of the people’s spirit, nor of those subtler influences then working in the city Blunt in his northern honesty, he cared as lMttle for the fine arguments of the the- ologians for the disputations of the demagogues. Mary was his lawful queen; Be would hear of mo other. It a more selfish impulse had sent him to London to win his own security, none the less the de- sire to serve the throme was strong within Bim and mot the least welcome of his ambitions. Let him gain but Mary's ear, he said, and all the rest were sure. For the others, the sycophants, the mercenmaries, the falnt hearts who were the sentinels of her palace, he had a freeman's good con- tempt. “Let her but hearken to me,’ he declared to Abbot Parkenham, “and I will ralee 50 good a troop that, be it duke or devil, no harm shall come to her!” To such a man the paths of statesmanship were so many dark alleys leading from the high road of homesty and right judg- ment to the slough of subtlety and deceit. “I come to serve as it is given to me, To your chancellors in petticoats, carry brold- ery and pillion. Is this London ruled by women? Let the queen seek men and all shall be well with her!" The Abbot Parkeham liked the argu- ment, but had little faith in it. “You will be a clever man,” he said, ¥ou gain the queen’s ear. Believe me, sir, candor Is an ill-prized gift when you lay it t the foot of a throne. Let the need exist akd the church will begin to think of the men you name. She has much to do at present, and will guard her royal mistre surely, while she makes her coffers ready for the restitution she looks for. If these thlags were aught to me, I would say that Mary is a woman of good habit, but of bad | counsel. They make mention of her clever- Dess In other tongues. I have heard it sald that she hath a large heart for those who | win her favor, and gossip speaks of no little | Jove on her part for the poor. She has even | Been known to go abroad in London unat- tended that she might visit some sick | woman's house and carry there the con- | solations of charity. Such charity done in | Ith to'the individual might well be done | to the nation if her councilors willed it But they concern themselves with their own Affairs, each man saying. God save your majesty and deliver you from my friends— your enemies!’ From such as these you Bave little to gain, belleve me; nay, were I one whom the chancellor had answered as you were answered this day I would not let the night find me in the city. Go back to Sherwood, sir; in the forest you have se- curity. God alone knows what liberty you may hope to find in this present harborage!" Roy answered him with a merry word and & hand which lay heavy upon his shoulder. ““The liberty of them that pay the price of it. Leave it to me, Abbot, to win such sn answer from yon chancellor as shall bring him suppllant to this ga I speak & parable, of which your books eannot read you the answer aright. Let the church go out to call the bowmen to her sanctuary; she will have need of them soon enough. And, if she come seeking Roy of Calverton, say that he has gone to the forges that the | smith mey whet him as good a blade as ever swordsman carried from Damascus. | “Tis & parable I lke the sound of. You | of jight struck upward in the courtyard | cried together: #hail dream of it over the wine cup untll I | showed the stesl casquetels of the guard, | be come again. | Master Parkemham, it fs said, shook his head at such & boast and went off to read | faces of men hard set upon & purpose which | the signs and wonders in the heavens (or, a8 his heschmen would make believe, to | mod and wink in his great oak chair until | gether by the clamor and the bruited nolses. | the Dbell should summon him to supper) But Roy went out with the Lady Barbara, | 48 he had promised; and, showing her the wonders of the city, the great shops of the | goldemiths, the business of Cheap, elamor and bustle on ‘change, the dresses of my lord mayor's servants great church of Paul's, and all those who thronged i's alsles some house of cus- tom and not the church of God, he went With her thereafter across the river bridge and showed her the gilded barges and the ships which lay at anchor_and all that gay pageantry which the clear green water of Thames ever affords. And as he went he spoke to her of that which he hoped for the morrow “They will send for me, dear heart—for Bow shall they help themselves® [ carry Beh may save mot omly this city but this kisgdom! Do men refuse a grain of gold to Mm that offers them a crown of jewels® [ speak all confidently, yet mot &3 & fool who would not messure words This day the chanesllor shail send for me to say. ‘we give the pledge, now speak! I, thereafter, I can be of any servics to Queen Mary, sbe sball flad me faithful Little, God knows have | wom hitherto of this kingdom of Bngland. yot little have | seked or would seek If it be not the sover olgnty which (he forest has given me Dear wife, who would change one gift of | Sherwood's solitudes for all which Londen Bas to show him this hor Men speak of | efties and the mind of cities, but it is van 1ty which sesks out great company, the de- | sire that it shall outshine the o'hers. Those | Whe go out io Bature’s God oas but bift | fine the for love of it, should I esteem my neighbors less? It pleasure be not a ein, and mever will I deem it that, then are we children of England, justly proud of our city of pleas- ures. Nay, Roy, you would not have me as any nun, whose heaven Is bounded by a grating! 1 am but 23, dear heart, and a woman still, for all my love of you He laughed at her pitiful complaint, and, drawing her close to him as they rode west- ward again toward their home, he did pen- ance all affectionately. Thou art but a woman, yet dearer to me | than aught else the world can give me—of city or forest, or the palaces of kings. And thou shalt come to London, sweet wite, I promise thee: and many shall say, ‘She is the queen of Ollerton,’ and many shall know that thy love is precious to me, and that I will close my heart about it until my lite's end. Willest thou that, sweet—nay, I know that thou willest it, for art thou not life itaelf to me?’ He spoke the promise, and impatient, per- chance, to learn if there were any tidinga | at the great house for him, he pressed on swiftly to my lord of Taunton's gate; but being come there, he found a great press of men in the courtyard, and the Abbot Par- kenham, very pale and distressed, answer. ing the men and denying their acquaintance. But Roy, thrusting in his horse among the plkemen, asked them boldly if he were the man they sought. Whereupon one of them, stepping forward, sald: ““Master, if you be he they name Roy of Caverton, we are come from the sheriff to carry you to the Tower Gate, my lord the chancellor hath commanded. CHAPTER V. Captivity omes with honor is true liberty. —~Massinger. 1t had grown dark by this time, and some of the chancellor's men carried flambeaux, which they had kindled in the kitchens of the house. Others, and these my lord’s at- frighted serving menm, went to and fro with lanterns, as though seeking wit- nesses of their blameleasness. What glare That o the blades of their pikes, the shining points of their habiliments, and with these the would not brook delay. The street without was full of those who had been called to- Apprentices ran from the houses of the merchants, maids opened lattices to peer out upon that tumultuous scene idlers footpads, the priests of the neighboring the | churches, brawlers from the taverns, came | crowding about my lord's gate to tell each other that the Northman was taken and to- | morrow would be crowned in the dungeons of the tower. Not yet were they so schooled 1n the spectacles of captivity that they might pass by the sheriff's burden as though It were & common sight bad gome abroad through the city pretty tale of romance and chivalry, which children might dwell upon and women ap- | plaud; but the chancellor had capped It with & heavy hand. “Let the king of Calverton free himseif and we will believe,” men said Now the chancellor's men pressed close about Roy, fearing that he would yet strike good blow for Iibérty. but in fhis they were over r so0om as he knew thelr purpose he changed & merry word with them, and declared that, for any “nay” of his, they might carry him wheresover they willed Palace or prison, wear no long feces for me, sirs,” was his exhortation; “whichever 1t be, thence will ye carry me gladly ere the month be run. I the queen’s name you come—ay. that is & name | know right well! Lead om, friends, that D what Kkindn He turned his horse to ride out with ¢ a9 he had entered. and bending in his to my Lady Barbara, who sat very white asa in the joom of the torches’ light Be bade her farewell as one who feared mot The outlaw's story | s some | dy with their alarms, and as | and loyalty he went on to declare himselt a true son of holy church, for he feared the chancellor greatly, and when his word was mocked by the ribald troopers he ran from room to room distractedly, here cloaking the witness to his magic, there cursing those [ very stars whose signs and wonders might | yet bang him at the city's gates. No sooner | were the queen's men out of hearing than | be closed the gates and barred the doors “.na entreated my Lady Barbara In fervent { supplications that she would quit Lendon that very night. | “They will charge this against your hus- | band and he will surely die. Shall it proft | that two perish where one will suffice? I speak as a son of God's church who cannot | wish well to hereties! Would ye have me I burn at the stake! Nay, woman, go forth | while ye may. 1 will not have it said th: | treason was preached In my benefactor's | house! This very night I will justify myselt | to the chancellor!" His words fell on deaf ears, for my lady 14 not so much as listen to him. Brought | to sflence in this peril, which had been so | awitt to come, and fearing greatly for her busband's safety, the daughter of Bernard | of Ollerton began to put on that courage | which was her birthright. She would save Roy of Calverton—she, whom Roy of Cal- verton had saved in the hour of her dlis- | tress. This very night she would see the queen. “The woman, truly, goes forth,” she sald to the Abbot, “but not from London eity. ay, my Father, how If she ride to &L | James to tell them of your magic—how if[ she speak of signs and wonders in the beavens, of a worthy priest who cares for none of these things! Indeed, you shall not twice affront me! Let your gate be opened, that I may do yeur bidding' He answered her with threats and curses, | calling upon some of the serving men to | prevent her and demanding of them wit- | ness that he was a true son of Holy church. | But these, who cared little for the Abbot, and less for Holy church, and had been al- ready won by my lady’s grace and courtesy, “Magliclan, work a wonder!" And opening the gate they let Barbara of Ollerton go forth The night had fallen dark and starle | there were few In the Strand, and thes were, for the most part, idle apprentices out for merry brawls; or belated horsemen or priests upon a mission of charity, or footpads lurking in the alleys. Barbara knew little of London, nor was she sure in which direction the palace of St. James lay Fear of her loneliness, her solitary condi- | tion weighing beavily upon a mind over- burdened, nevertheless, a brave resolution | sent her as an ambassador of despair. She would see the queen. A woman's heart should answer a woman's supplication. She was alone, she sald, and yet a volce of the night could tell her that she was not alone. How It was she knew not; yet soarce was my lord of Taunton's house 1os to her view than the mystery began to plague her, the doubt to be made good | surety. 1o the shadows by which she | passed the shadow of pillas and gable, and wall and archway, she thought to see men riding wistfully. Saying that foolish ey deceived her, denying her senses, comfort- ing herself with brave words, she sought to put the apparition away or to mock it in her courage. But every step now made it more sure, the number of the figures multiplied. She knew that she was watched; knew it as ghostly shapes, cloaked riders, volceless cavallers, came out of the darkness to ride with her; yet not #o closely that she might see their faces or change & word with them They were my Lord of Tauton's men, she | made believe first; but, anon, she came to y that they were some of those who had | earried Roy to his (mprisonment. With a woman's hope, she uttered a silent prayer for help and pressed on lnto the night | | “SHE CAME AT LENGTH TO MARY'S PR VISION BEAUTIFUL OF THE NIGHT, her, she rode on to St hearts about James'. CHAPTER VL Open-eye Conspl His time doth take. There was bustle in the palace, a going to and fro of mounted men, messengers from remote places, lights carried from room to room, whispered tidings of events momentous. So unwonted were the stir and curlosity that my lady and her archers rode in unmolested, avd finding a page who listened readily to so pretty an intruder, word was carried swiftly to the chancellor, who was then with the queen, and so to her majesty. “The wife of Roy the outlaw seeks audi- ence of her majesty upon a matter of urgency.” Now that was the second time which the chancellor had Leard the word of “‘urgency that day, and the omen plagued his curi- oslty. “Comes she to threaten us, too?" he ked, jestingly, of the page who carried the tidings. ‘Nay, we shall wear a coat of mall presently lest urgency go faster than your majesty's justice!” But the queen said in her wisdom: “Let us hear her, my lord, for truly, it the man hath a secret the woman shall tell it She gave the command, and the Lady Bar- bara, passing through the anterooms, where wits exclaimed upon her, and the women stared, and the gallants recounted her his- tory, she came at length to Mary's pres ence, and kneeling there, a vision beautiful of the night, she pleaded for her lover. “I am the wife of Roy of Calverton, who was arrested in your majesty's name this night. ‘For thirty hours we have ridden without drawing rein to do your majesty a service; and thus it is requited. How shall we speak, then, of your peril, and of that which is contrived against you? Let the queen ask if it 1s a good counsel which turns a deaf ear to those who would befriend her. Nay, your majesty, all England hath not a more faithful heart nor one more ready than he your ministers have silenced. Wil you not hear me for the love he bears you?" There were tears In her eyes when she uttered the name of Roy of Calverton, but Queen Mary, who remembered little but that she was of the new faith, answered her coldl “You are Barbara of Ollerton, who teach sedition to my people In the north. Hath sedition, then, turned upon its masters, that you confess these things Nay, your majesty, sedition and my hus- band’s name were ever strangers. I be- | seech you prove him that the truth may be known ere the hour for truth is passed b, It was a plea of her love and confidence uttered so winningly that even the queen was halt won by it “Your urgency speaks an lord,” she sald to Gardiner. “Has It come to this, then, that we must grant friend- hip to every outlaw that claims it of us?" She turned to him as one upon whom de- spir sat heavily; nor bad he any good an- swer for her “I kmow not whose friendship majesty may retuse,” he said, ings from Rochester be true.” For a little while tho queen mused upon and then, turning to my lady, she asked “What do you seek of me, child—what boon do you crave?”’ “That those who carricd my dear hus- band from me tonight may carry me to his slde again'' “For love of him you barter freedom “Having nothing but my hope of love." “Knowing that he must answer that which justice would charge agalnst him?" “AY, your majesty, knowing that he can answer all the world ow, the matter troubled the queen not & little, and she would have gome on to question my lady wore closely, but while whe was yet seeking pretext, a messenger all splasbed with mud and disorder by his baste, burst it upon them finceremoniously enigma, my your if these tid It was & horrid fesr of things unreal, of dreaded apparitions, which all her seif-will to ery that the bridge at Rochester had been thrown down by Wyatt and bis fellows, ESENCE, AND, KNEELING SHE P out to warn their friends, others making haste to inform the constable and those that kept the Tower. Momentous as the tidings were, they were heard with less surprise than authority might have desired. The Bpanish marriage, the gathering plots against the Protestants, the spirit of di content which the new laws fermented had taught men to await some counter stroke that would answer for their liberties. And now, when the day had come, when the storm burst, and it behooved each man to think of his own security, few were brave enough to declare themselves, or to avow a loyalty which none might question. These men of Kent, who marched on Southwark in their thousands, might they not be the mas- ters of the city ere many days had passed? The will that brought them from village and hamlet to denounce the Spaniard and his ambassador, might it not be the cause of all | the kingdom should victory attend the rebel arms? England had no braver man than Thomas Wyatt, the poet's son; no stouter | heart, no scholar more winning nor wit so well beloved. And to these natural gifte | be added victory. The tidings said that every gate was opened to him, that every town welcomed him, that even the eripples came out to ery him *‘godspeed.” The peril in the north, the trouble which Northum- berland had sown, had weakened the city both in the number of its troops and their disposition. Let Wyatt pass London bridge, said every gossip, and all were lost, indeed. Such fears expressed in sleepy oaths and fragments of excited talk followed upon the horsemen as they rode swiftly to the Tower. Inns, barred for the night, opened the doors again to half-dressed trooper: there were lights in every window, galleys dancing at the river steps; lattices swung as the mounted men rode by; a great com motion at my lord mayor's house, the gath- ering of the trained bands, the winding of horns. In the Tower Itself, Sir John Brydges, the deputy lleutenant, already mustered the guard and prepared the can- non on the ramparts. Lanterns flashing in ‘wards, the cry of man to man, the whinney- 10g of horses, the tolling bells, gave tongue to that alarm and etirred the pulses even of the cowards. But one in that place, they sald, listened to the uproar without concern. For Roy of Calverton the bells had no message. They had delivered him at the Tower gate about an hour after sunset; and hav- ing, in the words of the old chronicle, “gotten @ recelpt for him' from the col stable, it had been full another hour be- fore he was lodged upon the second story of the White Tower, and there made known to Matihew Bare, the keeper of the Du geons. An ill-visaged fellow enough, spa ing of words and a st: r to any kindly humor, the keeper spread a bed of rushi for his prisoner and told him sourly that be would do well to use it while he could. “For," sald he, “they will set your head on the gate ere the week be run; and that shall sharpen your dreams, my friend!" To whom Roy answered “Not wo, for 1 will dream of you, friend, that, knowing I must come to liberty soon, you found me a dish of meat and & stoop of wine! What, shall it be said that Roy of Calverton mistook your gentle face for that of a scurvy fellow, and a knave? Bring in the wine, and I will make such & report of you that the queen herself shall pin & jewel on your breast!" Master Bare, the keeper, ‘mindful of his circumstance, wont to tell every ome, pomp and dignily, a stranger to laughter and the humors of men. But Roy of C verton had such merry manper, and wi 80 quick to win the favor, even of the sullen and the unwilling, that he bad been in the cell but the half of an hour ere Master Bare was pledging him In a cup, and Master Gyll, the keeper of the beasts, was open-mouthed st all the wonders of Sherwood and its hunting, which the out- law remembered for his wondering ears. Anon, came Bartholomew Fall, the chief warder, and clerks from the chapel, and cooks from the kitchen, and women from the pelace ward; and more wine belug brought, and lanterns bung up, and the THERE, A LEADED FOR HER LOVER wi very he was going with great seemeth a pleasant man and fairly spoken, 1 will even sup a second time and Arink another pot of thy sack. Nay, bld the loutenant wait upon me, for I would not name him for a scurvy fellow. Wilt say that, Master Bare—that I command him to come hither But Master Bare shook his head “Thou wonder!" he cried; “this very day thou hast made me forget my circum- stances. CHAPTER VIII And now I will unclasp a secret book. Henry IV, Now, Master Bare quitted the White Tower and Bartholomew Fail was muster- ing his warders and Master Gyll, the keeper of the beasts, went hurrying out upon his business, but all the merry hour they had passed with him. Even the con- stable had returned to the tower by this time and, what with the going and com ing of horsemen, the mounting of cannon and all the hasty counterplot, none had letsure to think of aught but his own safety and the means whereby he might secure it From his chamber, now dimly lighted by a single lantern, Roy listened to the loud cries of command, the jangling tocsins, the thunder of hoofs, the babbling tongues, and content to know that the orisis of his day had come, none the less a pregnant anxlety of it remained and would not be quieted Shrewd as he was he would not hide from | himself that he had taken e!! upon a single throw. The hazard of the night might yet betray him, he said. Every hour which passed and found him without compact quickened the peril and warred upon his secret. That which he had ridden to Lon- don to tell might already have been told by others. He had come to say, “I carry a secret to London and will barter it for the freedom ye can give me.” But if this secrot wero first told by another's lips, what right of ransom remained to him? An unbridled march upon the palace. T Mary's throne that night. Wit and courage, He remembered himself where such wit might be looked for, such resource dlacovered. From Gardiner— that woman In petticoats who paled at a loud word and dawdled to discuss a woman's faith when the honor of a kingdom was In perll? From Bonner, the gloomy fanatic, who dreamed already of fire and burning? From my Lord Howard, who whimpered for lack of the troop he could not raise? From all the sycophants and faint hearts who clamored for a legate and would kneel to their own shadows if place were to be got thereby? A sorry crew, indeed! And yet not sorrier than the men who followed gotten bands which served Mary for her army! “Set me in Sherwood with a hun- dred of mine, and I would scatter them as chaff!” the outlaw sald. The clamor from without answered the taunt. He remem- bered how far he stood from Sherwood and his home. An hour passed and upon that an hour, and still none came to him; and still he heard the tolling bells, the murmur of the voices. None might charge him with fore- boding if, at such a time, he sald that the night was lost, the hazard misthrown. All had been ventured, all staked vainly. Wyatt would enter London at dawn and that would be the end of it. You shall judge his mood ‘when, in such circumstance and impatience, his brooding thought was turned as at an unspoken summons, and the door of his chamber belng thrown wide open, he beheld, not Master Bare, whom he had looked for, por the lleutenant he had commanded to come to him, nor any of those who recently had kept the masquerade, but my Lady Bar- bara herself, heralded by two that carried torches and followed by others that swuug lanterns In the gloom. 8o flushed she was, #0 quick to run to him, so full of joy, that in his perplexity he could but ery, “Thou!" and, pressing her close to him, believe, in- deed, that the new day had dawned. “Thou!—thou, In this place! Nay, heart, It is not thou, for assuredly dream—'" He put the question all wonderingly, but ehe, though she had a thousand words of love to utter, spake nobe of them; but drawing back from his embrace she sald: dear 1 ‘Stearns’ Rat and Roach Paste and die out of the house. Oune ingredient dries up thelr bodies, leaving no odor. It is a safe and sure exterminator also of Mice, Water B vermin. hotels, factories, offices, horde marched upon the city and might yet | diness and resource were needed to save | those he had seen at the palace and asked | thewr, the unwilling mercenaries the hasty- | the room slowly us though to control the freshet of his thoughts which streamed so abundantly. My herself stood In the shadows: every word that her lover spoke was as a jewel of her content. He would save the queen that night; she who loved him was all confident “Madam,” he sald, “‘the woman shall glve me gratitude, the queen jus To you 1 speak freely without any bond or deed of my security. Here in my wallet are the papers 1 took from the dead body of my lord of Stowe. He claimed the inheritance of a woman's heart, which no law can give. Him 1 klled In fair encounter. That he deserved to dle this paper shall tell you truly. It is an account, with circumstance, of those in the midland countries who, and you do not act expeditiously, shall join these malcontents that knock at your gates. Madam, here is all thelr story; the names of those that buss conspiracy, the places of thelr meeting, their harborage in wood and town, the full proposal of that which they would do. Here and now I say that if this kingdom fs to be saved you shall act with- out delay. Command me and I will send messengers to Sherwood forest who will nip this treason in the bud, as any flower the frost has bitten. If T am king of Calverton In truth let my kingship find stout hearts to serve the throne whence my dominfon comes. Give me the right to send my mes- scngers forth upon' the instant and that which the duke of Suffolk does at Leicester shall be blotted from your thoughts madam, I conjure you to speak season when an Iady every This is no aye' is gotten of a chancel- lor's labor! Command me and I obey. It shall be yours to reap the fruit of that obedience!" Ho was warmed to great eloquence of pleading. His ringing voice awahened new courage in the queen's heart. The craven counsel she had carried from the palace, | the procrastinations, the doubt of the faint hearts, the whimperings of the priests were driven from her mind while she listened to this goodly promise, and began to be- lteve that of all In London this man alone could save her that night. Neverthele the habit of hér craft remained, she must’ dally with it even at the elevénth hour. “Your meesengers shall go to Notting- ham willingly; yet who will shut the gate of this clty to those who burn the ships and drive the people out? Is it aught to me that Leicester be kept and London lost? God knows, T suffer greatly to see how Il those tidings are received by those who should befriend me! Let your counsel speak of London, and I will Jend a ready ear. e looked at him as ona who would say: “I seek to trust, help the endeavor!" and he, understanding this desire, was quick to meet it “Madam, let the shame be to those that delay In this defense. Is London, then, so bare a town that it hath no gates, mo caanon, no horsemen for your service? Four thousand ride to Southwark, they say. If the bridge be drawn up and the culverin planted, how shall even four pass over? 1 speak a thing which any child might bear impatiently. This Wyatt has sworn to touch the city gate. If he pass not in by London bridge, then will he seek another way, which you shall make for him—an open way, upon which he may stumble blindly. Draw him to your gate as to a net, which shall close about him presently. If I have any wisdom in this affair I say to you, give me leave to form a troop that shall ride out at my discres tion, and when next you hear of me it will be of one who says, ‘the net is drawn; the bird Is caged!' But T am a prisoner for the news that I bear to you. 'Twere odd it distress must call upon your jails tor freedom!" A discord of his irony was manifest in that complaint, and he who had spoken with such fervor of her safety now stood reluctant, as though the work were for others and not for him. But the queen, for whom the word was as & message of her salvation, rose at the appeal, and taking both his hands, she sald “You whom they call the king of Cal- verton, save my city tonight!" He bent and kissed her hands My lady, in the shadows, hid the cheek. tears upon her (To Be Contlnued.) Electric , Croton Bugs, Cockroaches and all other t has been in general use in houses, stores, public buildings, ete., for twenty-five years. Absolutely guaranteed. 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