“I do. So take my advice. Disband these trusty followers of yours—whose staunchness ought to recommend them for better service. Make the best market you can of their cast-off wardrobes. Retire for a time into private life; and wait till you hear shouted those sacred words—
“God and the People!”
“Bless ye, Sir Henry!” cried the robber, rushing up, and, with a show of rude affection, clutching the hand of his former master. “I had heard o’ your comin’ to live at the old house in the forest up thear; but I didn’t expect to meet you in this way. You’ll let me come an’ see ye. I promise ye that ye’ll never meet me as a robber again. This night Gregory Garth takes his leave o’ the road.”
“A good resolve!” rejoined the cavalier, warmly returning the pressure of the outlaw’s hand. “I’m glad you have made it. Good-night, Gregory!” he continued, moving onward along the road; “Come and see me, whenever you please. Good-night, gentlemen!” and at the words he lifted the plumed beaver from his head, and, in a style of mock courtesy, waved the dummies an adieu. “Good-night, worthy friends!” he laughingly repeated, as he rode through their midst. “Don’t trouble yourselves to return my salutation. Ha! ha! ha!”
The young courtier, moving after, joined in the jocular leave-taking; and both merrily rode away—leaving the footpad to the companionship of his speechless “pals.”
Volume One—Chapter Ten.
An incident so ludicrous could not fail to tickle the fancy of the young courtier; and bring his risible faculties into full play. It produced this effect; and to such a degree that for some minutes he could do nothing but laugh—loud enough to have been heard to the remotest confines of the Heath.
“I shouldn’t wonder,”—said he, recalling to mind the contents of his sister’s letter; “not a bit should I wonder, if this fellow be the same who stopped the lady’s coach. You’ve heard of it?”