Yet after all it may have been less Gervase Heriot’s whimsical readiness that prevailed with the good wife than his charming voice, his tall, fine person and his gracious, manly air. When all was said this was no Egyptian. None of the tribe of lawless wanderers could have shown such a delicacy of manners when hunger drove him hard. “Ye can both drink your fill,” said Mistress Poll Plackett. They needed no second invitation. Anne drank first of the warm, delicious draught, that might have been ambrosia straight from heaven. Then drank Gervase. “Good mother,” he said as he gave back the pail, “two wayfardingers will remember you in their prayers this night. And our prayers, alas! must be your only guerdon. But from our hearts we thank you.” Mistress Poll shook her head. “Let it be so,” she said gruffly. “Although you can’t cut ice with thank you, still I don’t begrudge the milk, young man. But my advice to you is this: when you come to a bush give your young doxey a sound beating, that she may learn not to ape her betters in such a shameless livery.” CHAPTER IX THEY gave good-day to Mistress Poll and passed on their way wonderfully refreshed in body and spirit. Still they kept by the river. The sun was now shining clear out of a pure and limpid heaven. Above and all about the birds were singing. They could almost hear the sap running in the trees; yellow daffodils shone in the grass; the little green buds were bursting from brake and thicket. By now a wild sense of freedom was in their veins and they had a great delight in the company of each other. Yet behind all things--the glamour of the earth, the golden sky, the grave majesty of nature--lay a dark, terrifying cloud. Not for a moment could they forget that their lives hung by a thread. They were ever looking back to see if their pursuers were yet in sight. They raked each bush they came near to see if it held an enemy. At every bend in the river they made ready to be sprung upon. And, as they were soon to learn, there was only too much reason for these fears. It happened that they had made another two miles or so when they came to a tall hedgerow running at right angles to the river. And Gervase, looking along it in his constant vigilance, saw to his dismay a small party of mounted men, wearing the conspicuous scarlet livery of Sir John Feversham. They were no more than fifty yards away, and were coming slowly down the hedgerow on the other side, beating the bushes as they came and examining them closely. Providence for the moment was with Gervase and Anne. The height of the hedge and an abrupt bend of the river served to hide them from view. Instantly they took cover by flinging themselves full length in the grass in which they stood. There was nothing else to be done; their pursuers were so near that flight was impossible.