"Dost thou know the lane which leads into a thick wood, and a very marshy tract some two furlongs before you reach the gate to the house?"
"Yes; I have seen it, but never pursued it."
"My foster-parents have a cottage in that copse, so cunningly hidden, and so surrounded by the marshy land, that none save those who know the rights of the way can reach it save with great trouble and difficulty. I lived in that cottage for three years, my parents being absent, and my good foster-mother as good as a mother to me. I know every foot of the ground. My foster-mother will do anything that I ask her; and if peril should ever menace my Mary, take her thither without delay. She will be as safe hidden there as though the earth had opened to swallow her up. I have spoken to her of it, and she is ready and willing. No human foot ever invades the environs of their cottage, and the good folks themselves are retainers of my father, and safe from all chance of harm. Remember that Mary will be safe there, should harm come of this, should hurt menace her. It is in part to tell thee as much, and to give thee this charge, that I have made such shift to come hither to-day."
"Let me come back with you, Mistress Mary, and see the place," I answered her eagerly, for after the look I had seen upon Mr. Blewer's face only yesterday, I did truly think that Mistress Mary might stand in need of an asylum of refuge, even did the political storm pass by without hurting her; and the notion pleased the little lady well. I was on foot, but the distance was not great; and though the worthy countryman had to go into the city on his master's errand (he had not come to see the show, but had seen it, as it were, by an accident), he was glad to put his young mistress in my charge (the Snowes were well known and trusted throughout the countryside), and get her safe out of the throng. So when he had set her down a hundred yards away from the outskirts of the press, he bid us adieu and rode for the town; whilst Mistress Mary and I made our way by by-paths to the thick copse standing in the marsh (now almost dry after the long drought), and I was shown by what way the cottage could be approached even in the wettest season. We were made welcome to a homely dinner by Mistress Mary's foster-mother, who listened eagerly to all my tale of the Duke and the reception he had had, and promised to care for and hide and befriend Mistress Mary Mead, should ever the time come when she needed help.
"THE TAUNTON KING."
Now although everything had looked so bright and gay since the arrival of the Duke at Taunton, and though his reception had been so cordial, and we unlettered folk began to think the cause already won, yet there were signs which to better-informed minds were ominous and discouraging; and it was noticed even by ourselves that from time to time a look of sadness would cloud the Duke's face, whilst for a few moments he would be lost in thought, and only rouse himself by an effort to respond to the joyous cheering of the crowd.