“No fear of that, I trust, my sweet young lady, but I will sign the paper. Go and wait for me at Saint James’s; as soon as this affair is over I will come there. Lord So-and-so,” he said, turning to one of his equerries, “remind me that I have a paper to sign; it is for that young lady; you will not forget it now.”
The equerry turned to Mabel and bowed low.
The colour which had left her cheeks rose again in them, for the look cast on her was full of intense admiration. Mr Kyffin whispered to Mabel that she must not press the matter further, and bowing to the King, who gave a kind parting word to Mabel, they retired from among the glittering throng of military officers.
Chapter Twenty Seven.
Silas Sleech Departs from the Scene.—How Mr Sleech enjoyed his Possession of Stanmore.
Prisons even in those days were fearful dens, although considerably improved by the exertions of the noble Howard. In an ill-ventilated room with grated windows, on a straw pallet, sat a young man. His cheeks had gained the prison paleness. A frown was on his brow, and an expression on his countenance, which betokened numerous bad passions. Several other persons were in the room, which was closed by a strong door, barred and locked. Five or six other pallets, a rickety table, and several three-legged stools completed the furniture of the apartment. The young man’s companions had apparently been amusing themselves at his expense. The more angry he became, the more they laughed and jeered.
“Laugh while you may,” he growled out. “You will laugh on the wrong side of your mouth when dragged out to Tyburn. I can, even now, fancy I see you dangling on the gibbet, and more thorough jailbirds have never been taken out to be hung!”
These remarks, of course, produced retorts of equal bitterness.