In the principal room of the old hostel he found, as he expected, a party of Cavaliers smoking, singing, and quaffing sack and claret, as if they had no serious business in hand. They were thus making merry to the last, since among them were Major Knox and some others, who, two hours later, were killed in the attack on the outpost. They were all fully armed with steel caps, gorgets, cuirasses, pauldrons, and taches, but had divested themselves of their swords and pistols. Beside each sword lay a small roll of linen. This was the shirt which its owner meant to wear over his armour, and which, in some cases, proved a winding-sheet. All the Cavaliers rose on Careless's appearance, and gave him a hearty welcome. He could not help being struck by the enthusiasm they displayed. Not one of them but seemed proud of being included in the dangerous enterprise. Not one but was ready to lay down his life for the king. Careless never afterwards recalled that meeting without heaving a sigh for the brave men who perished in the camisade. However, at the moment, he thought little of the hazard of the attack, and would gladly have joined in it if the king would have allowed him. Sitting down, he emptied the flagon of claret filled for him by Major Knox. Shortly afterwards Colonel Legge entered the room, but left again almost immediately, saying, as he departed, to Major Knox: "Half an hour hence you must all be at the place of rendezvous." Shortly afterwards Careless took leave of the company, and was proceeding along Friars'-street in the direction of the Sidbury-gate, when he heard his name pronounced in a familiar voice, that instantly awakened tender recollections, and turning, he perceived that he had been followed from the hostel by a young woman whose features were muffled in a hood. Not doubting who it was, he exclaimed: "Ah! is it you, Mary? I never expected to see you again." "And you would not see me now, I can assure you, if I had not something of importance to say," she rejoined, partially removing her hood. "Whatever has procured me the happiness of beholding you once more, sweet Mary, I feel grateful for it," he rejoined. "Speak not thus lightly," she said. "'Tis a grave matter." "Before you mention it, then, let me ask now you came to throw yourself away upon that detestable Roundhead? You must be heartily sick of him already." "If you persist in talking thus you will frighten me away, and I shall leave unsaid what I have to tell you--and it is very important." "Nay, by all that is bewitching, I swear you shall not go," he cried, catching her hand. "Be serious, if you can, for a single instant, and listen to me." "Tell me you are resolved to abandon Urso, and I will be as serious as you please." "You put everything out of my head by your trifling talk. How very different you are from Urso, to be sure! He is always grave."