"But why did you leave him?" asked George Brooke.
"Because he wanted me to do what is wrong," replied the girl, the colour mounting in her face and temples; and again she burst into tears. Alas! she spoke to one who had no respect for, scarcely any belief in, virtue; and his evil purposes were but confirmed by what he saw and heard.
"Nay," he said, "you shall tell me the whole story, and if it is as I think, I will bring you to a place where you shall be well taken care of and kindly treated. My horse has gone lame, so I will tie him to a tree, and sit down by you to hear your little history."
The girl offered no opposition; and he did as he said, fully resolved to take her with him to London, under the pretence of providing for her, and then using his opportunities as he might think fit.
All the first part of her tale she told without hesitation, that she was a Milanese by birth, and had been brought over--purchased, in fact, from her parents, by an English perfumer and charlatan, who had visited Italy in search of rare drugs and essences. For some time his expectations of making money by her little talents had not been disappointed. She had sung and played upon the lute, she said, before the Lord Southampton, and even the Queen; but the state of agitation at the English Court during the illness of Elizabeth put a stop to his gains; and he had taken her from place to place through the country, obtaining but little repayment for his trouble. Of the causes which induced her suddenly to quit him, however, he could obtain no farther account than that which she had already given, "that he wished her to do what was wrong." But George Brooke put his own construction on her words, and as she had described the charlatan as old and ugly, expressing great personal disgust towards him, he fancied that she might entertain very different feelings towards a younger and a handsomer man. What farther took place may not require detail. Notwithstanding the urgent necessity for his presence in London, he sat talking with her for nearly an hour, and whither passion hurried him on, matters not; but at the end of that time a loud scream and cry for help rang along the lane, and reached the ears of a party of horsemen coming slowly from the side of Salisbury.
"Ha! there is some violence going forward," cried Sir Harry West, putting his horse into a gallop. "Come on, come on!--Why, how now, Master Brooke?" he continued, as he rode up to the little well, beside which the girl was standing, all trembling and in tears. "Offering violence to a woman? Fie, sir, fie!"
"Ride on your way, Sir Harry West," replied Brooke, fiercely, "and mind your own affairs." But even while he spoke, two or three men on foot came down the lane, from the other side, exclaiming, "Ah, here she is, here she is, and here's the fellow who has lured her away.--Have them both before the justice; he will put the rogue in the stocks, I warrant you, and give the wench an exhortation."
George Brooke would now have given his right hand that he had not been tempted to lose time which was but too precious in his circumstances; for he easily comprehended that he might now be detained somewhat longer than would be pleasant to him. Indeed, the manner in which the men approached him, and the words which they used, showed him clearly that he himself was one of the objects of their constabular indignation; and, if anything had been wanting, one of the rural Dogberries exclaimed, running up to lay his hand upon the gentleman's collar, "I comprehend you, sir, in the King's name, and charge you go along with me."
At the same time, two of his companions took hold of the girl by the arm, saying, "Come along, pretty mistress, come along to Justice Scully."
George Brooke, however, grasped the hilt of his sword, exclaiming, "Stand back, fellow--put a finger on me if you dare! You are a fool, and know not what you are about. I am a gentleman, the brother of Lord Cobham."