Master Whitehead then gave to Sir George an oaken box which my father had mentioned in his will. The knight opened it, disclosing a lace handkerchief marked with a deep brown stain, to which was fastened a piece of parchment inscribed: "Stained with y^e blood of y^e Martyr His M^tie King Charles", the jewelled hilt of a sword, a ring, and several papers. The knight reverently pressed his lips to the royal relic, then proceeded to peruse the various papers. The first he looked at intently for some moments, then read aloud the following words:-- "To Beverley Gate on fir trees that wall keeping from y^e 11J feete come to of mine directions in desires I sonne having." Again he read these unmeaning words, his brows knitting in undisguised perplexity; then he handed the paper to the lawyer, who, after several vain attempts to produce a proper sentence, turned it over in his hand. Something was written on the back; but without saying a word he returned the paper to Sir George, first tapping the writing with his forefinger and clearly indicating that the knight should likewise keep silence. My sharp wits clearly told me that Sir George by his manner was angry with himself for having read the paper aloud. Hastily thrusting it back into the box, he slammed to the lid and prepared to take his departure. The rest of the assembled company followed his example, and, with an arm aching with the result of vigorous handshakes, I was left alone with Mistress Heatherington. It was the last I saw of kind Sir George Lee for many a long year. CHAPTER III--Concerning my Journey to Portsmouth Grief does not for long hold its sway over the buoyant spirit of youth, and, in spite of the heavy blow that I had sustained, my boyish disposition speedily reasserted itself, and I looked forward with undisguised eagerness to my journey to my new home in Portsmouth town. Already I had heard many wondrous tales of the happenings in that town from the lips of old Master Herbert Collings and of Henry Martin. In my mind I pictured my worthy uncle taking me round the dockyard, showing me this and that vessel, and pointing out this captain who fought against the Dutch, and that master mariner who repulsed the Barbary corsair. With bright visions of the future I gave little heed to the troubles of the past, and eagerly wished for the end of the nine long days that must pass ere I left the quiet of our little village of Rake for the busy life of a naval town. A day spent in Midhurst, where I was well fitted out with clothes, helped to make the time pass, and on the evening previous to the eventful day of my departure, I climbed the steep ascent of Rake Hill to bid farewell to some of my friends who dwelt on the by-road towards Lyss.