Richard hesitated. It was impossible to escape and leave this heroic fanatic to his fate; but words were wasted on John Rogers, so, suddenly seizing the minister's slight form in his stalwart arms, Dick thrust him up on the high window-sill and, swinging himself up beside him, dropped with his prisoner into the soft mud of a back lane. Without waiting for the reproaches Mr. Rogers was too breathless to formulate, Dick hurried him down the dark road toward the corner where he knew his horse was waiting. "Mount behind me, sir," he urged, catching the rein from the trusty servant. "Nay, nay," replied Mr. Rogers; "thou art a good lad, Dick, and it may be the Lord hath reserved both thee and me for further service. I have many friends and hiding places in this city--go thy way, and God be with thee;" and he vanished into the shadows, while Dick, drawing in the cool night air with a long breath of relief, struck into the road for the north, and left the shouts and yells of the combatants far behind him. CHAPTER IV. THE PLEASANT ISLE OF AVÈS. "And such a port for mariners I ne'er shall see again As the pleasant Isle of Aves, beside the Spanish main." C. KINGSLEY, _The Last Buccàneer_. For a while Richard Harrison found safety in his old county, not indeed in his father's comfortable town-house, nor in the widowed Mrs. Harrison's county home, but lurking among the potters' huts on the Staffordshire moors, and only venturing to visit his friends under cover of night. The colour which his unlucky presence among the congregation at Coleman Street on the day of General Harrisons execution, had given to his enemy's accusations, had made his position perilous in the extreme, for General Monck, and his other secret friends, considered that he had wilfully disregarded their warnings, and were not inclined to exert their influence in his behalf. During those miserable months of hiding he had but one sad satisfaction--that of knowing that Prince Rupert had kept his promise and the mangled remains of Thomas Harrison were restored to his widow, and laid in decency in Newcastle churchyard. The dead was safe from further outrage, but the living were still at the mercy of private malice and public panic, and Richard found that to linger any longer near his old home would be but to draw suspicion on his friends, and even involve them in the fate that threatened himself.