Viewed by torchlight, as Cromwell beheld it on his arrival there, the large stable-yard of Spetchley manor-house presented a very curious sight--being full of musketeers, cuirassiers, lancers, and dragoons, with their horses. Closely adjoining the stable-yard, and forming not the least interesting part of the striking scene, were the blackened walls of the ancient mansion, now silvered by the rays of the moon. As Cromwell rode into the yard, attended by Colonel Lindsey and Dighton, he remarked an elderly personage, guarded by two musketeers. "Ah! you have a prisoner yonder I see, Cornet Hardiman?" he observed to the officer who came up to him. "Where was he taken?--and who is he?" "He was found in a summer-house in the garden, your excellency, and refuses to give his name," replied the cornet. "As he may be a spy, I have detained him till your return." "You have done right," said the Lord General. "Bring him to me." "Advance, prisoner!" cried the officer. And as the prisoner was brought forward, Cromwell was struck by his grave looks and deportment. "This man cannot be a spy," he thought, after a moment's scrutiny. "Who art thou? And what dost thou here?" he demanded. "Truly it would appear that I am an intruder," replied the prisoner, somewhat haughtily. "Yet I once was master of this mansion." "If so, you are Sir Robert Berkeley," rejoined Cromwell, surprised. "Your excellency has said it," rejoined the other. "I am that unfortunate man." "Had you declared as much from the first, you would have been set at liberty," observed the Lord General. "I am not so sure of that," replied Sir Robert. "I do not think my word would have been taken. But be that as it may, I cared not to answer questions rudely put to me by your soldiers. Mistake me not--I make no complaint of ill-treatment. Such explanation as I have to offer your excellency I give readily. My habitation having been burnt down, my stables occupied, I had no place of refuge except my summer-house, where I sought shelter for the night. There I was found, as hath just been stated." "You have only yourself to thank for the detention, Sir Robert," rejoined Cromwell. "Though your nephew, Sir Rowland Berkeley of Cotheridge, is an avowed malignant, and you yourself are known as an active partisan of Charles Stuart, I will not discredit what you tell me. You are free; and, furthermore, are free to speak of all you have seen or heard. You shall be conducted to the nearest outpost, or, if you desire it, shall be taken to White Lady Aston." "I will rather sleep beneath a tree than under Mr. Symonds's roof," replied the old judge. "If I might ask a favour of your excellency it would be to be allowed to pass the night in my summer-house." "You seem to like the spot," remarked Cromwell, somewhat suspiciously. "'Tis all that is left me of the old place," replied the judge. "Well, I will consider of it," said Cromwell. "Have you supped, Sir Robert?" "Neither dined nor supped."