Thinking to escape more quickly, Jane Lane jumped a hedge on the left, and gained a broad meadow. But neither her brother nor Sir Clement followed her, while the sounds she heard convinced her they were being hotly pursued. She rode partly across the meadow, and then stopped, uncertain what to do, still hoping her companions would join her. But they came not, and fresh firing at a distance added to her fright. What was she to do? She could not proceed on her journey alone, and yet a return to the city was fraught with the utmost peril. Yet this was the course she resolved on after a few minutes' consideration, and she rode down to the bottom of the field, anxiously listening for any warning sounds. The enemy, however, was nearer at hand than she imagined, and she had no sooner got out of the field by clearing another hedge than she was made prisoner by a couple of musketeers. No rough usage was offered her, but seizing her bridle, the men took her to their leader, who was posted beneath a wide-spreading beech-tree, with a dozen troopers beside him. "Soh! you have captured the Moabitish maiden," observed the leader. The words and the stern tone in which they were uttered caused Jane to look at the speaker, and she then, to her astonishment, perceived she was in the presence of the Lord General himself. Instead of being alarmed by the discovery, she felt her courage return. "Thou knowest me, damsel, I perceive," observed Cromwell, perceiving the effect he had produced upon her. "Answer truthfully the questions I shall put, and you have no cause for fear." "I have no fear," replied Jane, stoutly. "Who were the malignants with you? Was Charles Stuart one of them? Speak! I will have an answer." His manner was so authoritative, that she felt almost compelled to obey. Still she remained silent. "I ask again, was Charles Stuart one of them?" said Cromwell, still more sternly. "I have received intelligence from one not likely to deceive me, that he meditates flight from the city on this very morn. And I am here on the watch for him." "You have received false intelligence," rejoined Jane. "The king will never leave the city." "Ah! you have plenty of spirit, I find," cried Cromwell. "But you draw suspicion on yourself by your reluctance to answer. For the third time, who were those with you?' "My brother, Colonel Lane, and my brother's friend, Sir Clement Fisher," she replied. "And your own suitor, perchance," remarked Cromwell. "You are right," rejoined Jane. At this juncture several of the troopers returned, and Cromwell called out: "Have you captured the men of Moab? Have you smitten them with the sword?' "No, your excellency," replied Dighton, who commanded the party. "They have escaped into the city." "Heaven be thanked for that!" exclaimed Jane. "Then I care not what becomes of me." Cromwell regarded her fixedly, not without a certain admiration.