"Oh, my worshipful friend," cried Mr. Justice Scully, "we can lend you a pillion. Having a house full of women here, I am always ample provided in that sort. You can send it back to me by the carrier who passes to Winchester."
"Many thanks, many thanks," replied Sir Harry West. "I will gladly accept your offer. Take her behind thee, thyself, Lakyn, for thou art older, and more sedate than the other fellows; and make as much haste as you can, for we have intruded too long upon Master Scully."
"Not at all, not at all," exclaimed the justice. "I count boldly that you will stay and take your noon-meal with me; your people and the girl shall be cared for in the buttery.--What, shaking your head? No time, I'll warrant; your courtiers are always as busy as a merchant.--Well, you must come in at least, and let me introduce you to the ladies. You must break bread and taste a cup of wine; to that there is no denial."
Feeling that, in courtesy, he could not refuse, Sir Harry West accompanied the worthy justice to another part of the house, while the servants and Ida Mara were taken to the buttery, and treated with true old English hospitality. In about half an hour, however, the whole party were once more on horseback, and riding slowly away towards
[CHAPTER X.]
We must now accompany George Brooke on his way, not, indeed, stopping to trace all his proceedings, but merely stating that the time thrown away in consequence of his meeting with Ida Mara, and the loss of his horse's shoe, was not altogether less than five hours. At the end of that period, however, he once more found himself riding rapidly on towards London, and, as is usual in such cases, cursing the folly which induced him to forget great and important objects in pursuit of petty gratifications.
By six o'clock his horse was quite knocked up; and leaving it at an inn to be sent after him, he procured another, with which, at the end of about four hours more, he approached the metropolis. His thoughts had been in a wild and hurried state, and he had more than once asked himself, "With whom shall I take counsel? If Clarke be come back from Brussels," he continued, in the same train of thought, "he would be the man, but of that I am not sure.--Cobham is such a fool, I cannot trust to him; and Raleigh's coldness in the business has shaken his constancy. It must be with Markham; he is bold and decided, though a slippery knave, I fear.--We can go on to Cobham House afterwards. Ho boy!" he continued, speaking to the post-boy who rode with him to take back the horse, "which is the shortest cut to the village of Chelsea?"
"Down to the right, sir," replied the man; "the first turning, and then the second to the left."
George Brooke accordingly rode on, and in a few minutes caught a glimpse of the Thames, shining in the rising moon.
"Ay, now I know my way," he said, and rode straight on to the gates of an old brick house, with a garden and orchard, looking towards the river on one side, and on the other towards the road.