rogues, just because my father is out of the way. I could not make out
his jargon, but you can, brother; and make that rascal Spinks let him
go.'

'What should I have to do with it?' said Berenger, shrinking from
the sudden exposure of his scarred face and maimed speech. 'I am no
magistrate.'

'But you can understand him; he is French, the poor rogue something abut
a letter, and wanting to ask his way. Ah! I thought that would touch
you, and it will cost you little pains, and slouching it over his face,
rose, and, leaning upon Annora's shoulder, stepped forward, just as the
big burly blacksmith-constable and small shriveled cobbler advanced,
dragging along, by a cord round the wrists, a slight figure with a red
woolen sailor's shirt, ragged black hosen, bare head, and almost bare
feet.

Doffing their caps, the men began an awkward salutation to the young
Lord on his recovery, but he only touched his beaver in return, and
demanded, 'How now! what have you bound him for?'

'You see, my Lord,' began the constable, 'there have been a sort of
vagrants of late, and I'll be bound' twas no four-legged fox as took
Gaffer Shepherd's lamb.'

The peroration was broken off, for with a start as if he had been shot,
Berenger cried aloud, 'Mericour! the Abbe!'

'Ah, Monsieur, if you know me,' cried the young man, raising his head,
'free me from this shame--aid me in my mission!'

'Loose him, fellows,' shouted Berenger; 'Philip, a knife--Lucy, those
scissors.'

'Tis my duty, my Lord,' said Spinks, gruffly. 'All vagabonds to be
apprehended and flogged at the cart's-tail, by her Grace's special
commands. How is it to be answered to his Honour, Sir Marmaduke?'

'Oaf!' cried Philip, 'you durst not have used such violence had my
father been at home! Don't you see my brother knows him?'

With hands trembling with haste, Berenger had seized the scissors
that, house-wife like, hung at Lucy's waist, and was cutting the
rope, exclaiming in French, 'Pardon, pardon, friend, for so shameful a
reception.'

'Sir,' was the reply, without a sign 