Sir John Hotham started, and looked towards the door with fear and trepidation; for he expected nothing less than to see the face of his son or some other of the violent men who had been sent down by the parliament; and to say truth, not the countenance of a personage whose appearance in his own proper person is generally deprecated by even those who have the closest connexion with him _sub rosa_ could have been more unpleasant to the governor of Hull. The Earl of Beverley started, too, with no very comfortable feelings; for not only was he unwilling to have his conversation at that moment interrupted, but moreover, dear reader, he recognised at once the tones of the magnanimous Captain Barecolt. "It is my son, on my life?" cried Hotham, in a low tone. "What, in the fiend's name, is to be done? This insolence is insufferable; and yet I would give my right hand not to be found here! Hark! On my life, he is forcing the lock!" "Stay, stay!" whispered the earl. "Get behind the bed; but first give me the key. I pledge you my word, Sir John, not even to attempt an escape; and, moreover, to send this person away without discovering you. Leave him to me--leave him to me. You may trust me!" "Oh! willingly--willingly," cried Sir John, giving him the key, and drawing back behind the bed. "For heaven's sake, do not let him find me!" The earl took the key, and approached the door; but before we relate what followed, we must turn for a moment to explain the sudden appearance of Captain Barecolt. CHAPTER XXI. Captain Barecolt was not, according to the old proverb, like a garden full of weeds; for, although he was undoubtedly a man of words, he was also a man of deeds, as the reader may have already remarked, and the deeds which he had performed since we last left him sitting in the parlour of Mrs. White were manifold and various. His first expedition was to the chamber of Arrah Neil, where the worthy landlady's sense of decorum, as well as her privilege of curiosity, kept her present during the conference. Poor Arrah--although at one time she certainly had not been impressed with the deepest sense of the personal merits of Captain Deciduous Barecolt--had seen enough of his conduct in the skirmish which took place at the bridge, to entertain a much higher respect for him than before; and even had not such been the case, there is something in the very sight of persons whom we have beheld in companionship with those we love, which, by awakening sweet associations--those pleasant door-keepers of the heart--renders their presence cheering to us in the hour of misfortune and distress.