Lady Peggy has laid aside the yellow wig; Chockey weeping, praying that they may get away in safety, is spreading out the Levantine fit for her mistress to jump into it, when, for the second time within the twelve hours, Her Ladyship’s heart stands still to the patter and thump of footsteps climbing the last flight.
“Hold, Chock!” cries she, clapping on the wig. “Bundle up my duds, tie ’em tight; so! give me it; pick up the box, put on your cloak and bonnet and a bold face; follow and ape me. An you love me, Chock, an’ I thrust, thrust too! an’ I knock ’em down, follow suit! I’d sooner die, Chock, than be caught now!”
With which, My Lady Peggy flung wide the door, pushed out the Abigail, drew her weapon, and, with a rush, the two of them tumbled down the stairs, taking on their way a giant of a man who struggled and struck out, and dropped fruits and flowers and curses, and yet gave in to the splendid tweeks and pinches which the lusty Chockey dealt him on his arms and legs, and, falling headlong, on the lower stairs, darted up the street crying:
“Watch!” at the top of his lungs, nor getting any answer, for Watch was snoring in the tavern and the sun now shining broad.
“Chock,” said her mistress, “go you on before me to the King’s Arms, where we alighted, engage the seats in the coach, and hark ye, child, an aught betide I come not, get you home without me and tell His Lordship I’m gone to Kent on a sick-call from my godmother. Lud! it’s lies all the way to being a man! I’ll not walk with you, lass; ’tis not seemly, and when I reach the inn I’ll pretend I know you not, hire a room, change my clothes and slip down to you, unseen if I can. Now, off with you, quickly, for I ache to follow. Would to God I could doff these garments and into my petticoats again!” added Lady Peggy ruefully, glancing at her hastily tied up bundle and, at the same moment, with the broad of her sword, pushing Chock into the street with a will that sent her a-spinning on her way.
Indifferent then, as though the outgoing damsel were no concern of hers, presently, with a swagger, yet ill-concealing the anxiety she felt afresh as now sobs and female voices assailed her ears, the mock Sir Robin McTart emerged upon the street.
There halted a chair between the posts. In the chair sat Lady Diana Weston accompanied by her woman. Both wept and trembled, while still afar the stout lungs of the terrified giant shouted:
“Watch!”
Peg stood still and stared; all the jealous blood in her burned in her cheeks. Lady Diana here! and wherefore? and at such an untoward hour; veil displaced, eyes red, but still most undeniably handsome, nay beautiful.
“Oh Sir!” cried Lady Diana beseechingly, raising two imploring hands outside the chair door toward Lady Peggy.