“Crafty-eyed, tall—”
“Nay, not so tall,” she broke in; “about as ye be in height, but not so great girth ’round the middle. The children all run from him when he strolls out at even-tide, tapping with his stick, and frowning. Our magistrate and minister hold him in great respect as one o’ wit and learning, with mickle gold from foreign parts. The naughty boys call him Old Ruddy-Beard, for aught ye can see o’ his face be the tip o’ his long nose ’neath the brim o’ his beaver-hat and his red beard lying on his white ruff. Also he wears a cape o’ sable velvet, and he be honoured with a title, being called Sir Jonathan Jamieson.”
During her description the Cavalier had nodded several times, and when she finished, his face was not good to look at. His eyes, which had been so genial, were now cold and shining as his sword.
“Have I found you at last, oh mine enemy,” he exulted, “at last, at last?”
Thus he muttered and talked to himself, and his smile was not pleasant to see. Glancing at the little maid, he perceived she was startled and shrank from him. He patted her shoulder.
“Now, hark ye, mistress,” he whispered, “when next you pass this man, say softly these words to greet his ears alone: ‘The King sends for his black powder.’”
“Perchance he will think me a witch and I say such strange words to him,” she answered, drawing away; “some say no one be more afeared o’ witches than he.”
The Cavalier flung back his head. His laughter rang out scornfully. “Ho, ho,” he mocked, “afeared of witches, lest they carry off his black heart! He be indeed a lily-livered scoundrel! Ay, care not how much you do fright him. At first he will doubtless pretend not to hear you, still I should not be surprised and he pause and demand where you heard such words, but you must say naught of all this, e’en though he torment you with much questioning. I am on my way now to Boston Town. In a few days I shall return.” He tapped her arm. “Ay, I shall return in state, in state, next time, little mistress. Meanwhile, you must keep faith with me. Let him not suspicion this meeting in the forest with me.” He bent his head and whispered several sentences in her ear.
“Good sir,” said the little maid, solemnly, when he had finished, “my King be next to God and I will keep the faith. But now and ye will be pleased to excuse me, as it be past the supper hour, I will hasten home.” Saying which, she slipped down from the trunk of the tree and bobbed him a courtesy.
“Nay, not so fast, not so fast away,” he cried. “I would show you a picture of my sweetest daughter, Elizabeth, of whom you mind me, giving me a great heart-sickness for her bonny face far across the seas in Merry England.” From inside his doublet he drew forth a locket, swung on a slender gold chain, and opened it. Within was a miniature on ivory of a young girl in court dress, with dark curls falling about a face which smiled back at them in the soft twilight.