The fellow persisted in his demands. His actual words were inaudible to the listener behind the curtain, but there was no mistaking the canting professional tone, the whine which presently grew to a bullying roar, when the ruffian found that no one else appeared about the place or came to support the girl. The sound of that threatening voice was too much for Harrison's prudence. Still holding the empty pistol in his hand, he darted downstairs and reached the door just in time to see the ruffian dash forward to seize the terrified girl, as he roared with coarse jocularity-- "As ye'll give me no meat, I'll e'en take the sweet." Audrey sprang back with a shriek, but with one bound Harrison was out of the door and beside her, and his strong hand sent the ruffian staggering against the wall. For a moment the bully stopped, uncertain whether to fight or fly, but then, discovering who his assailant was, he shouted-- "You cowardly Roundhead, you played me a scurvy trick t'other day, now I'll be even with you," and pulling out a long sailor's knife, he rushed on Dick; but as he raised his arm, Dick's hand went up too, and Astbury found himself looking into the black muzzle of a great horse pistol. "Back, cur!" roared Dick, "or I'll shoot you like a dog." Astbury staggered back, stared a moment, and then with an actual howl of dismay the bold buccaneer turned and fled. He did not fly so fast, however, as to escape a kick from Harrison's boot that sent him blundering half across the yard. "Be off, rascal," he shouted, "you are not worth powder and shot, but an' you stop before you have put ten miles between yourself and this door, the constable's whip and your back shall be the better acquainted." The last words seemed to revive such vivid recollections in the pirate's mind, that he picked himself up and vanished down the lane at his best speed, without waiting for further parley, while Harrison lowered his empty pistol and turned to the girl. CHAPTER VII. FATE AT WORK. "And, for the ways are dangerous to pass, I do desire thy worthy company Upon whose faith and honour I repose." _Two Gentlemen of Verona._ Harrison took Audrey's hand and led her back into the kitchen. For a minute he held her hand, and a curious memory came to him of how he had once picked up a little bird that had fallen from its nest, and how softly the little live thing had nestled in his palm. Then he spoke gently-- "Mistress Audrey, you must not stay here longer alone." "No," she gasped. "No, I will go speedily. But no one was ever uncivil to me before in all my life. All the folk about here reverence our very name. I will keep down at the cottage with old Molly till I am ready to depart." "May I ask you what delays your journey, madam?" he asked.