“He and his soldiers had been a fair distance ahead of us, until my bearers, trying to find the smoothest path at my direction, lost their way,” he answered, groaning.
“Bide you here,” said the student, tenderly assisting him into his chair, “whilst I go and halloo to those rascals. They cannot be far off.” Turning, he called to Abigail, “Be not afeared, Mistress Brewster, I will be back in a minute.” And he ran on and vanished in the forest beyond.
The Cavalier and Abigail waited.
“My little maid,” he called, breaking the silence between them, “come nearer.”
Abigail crept over into the saddle and took the reins. “Get up,” she said, shaking them. Her steed obediently stepped out into the strip of moonlit sand and she guided him over to the chair, the rich colouring of which in crimson and gold was to be faintly discerned.
“I have been thinking of my sweet Elizabeth in Merry England,” quoth his lordship.
“Ay,” assented Abigail, listening intensely for any sound of the student; “ah, Master Ronald hath catched the knaves. I can hear their voices and the trampling of horses’ feet.”
“’Tis well,” rejoined his lordship. “Little maid, I have been thinking of the words of my very learned contemporary, Sir Thomas Browne.”
“And what might they be?” asked Abigail, giving him but half an ear.
“Great experience hath he had of death and hath seen many die,” replied his lordship, solemnly, “for he too is a physician. Thus was he led to say that when he reflected upon the many doors which led to death, he thanked his God that he could die but once!”