"They were hunted from place to place as though they had been foxes," replied Uncle Anthony. "Old Colman hath died of disappointment; aye, more than disappointment--of a broken heart; all the rest, with the exception of Benet and Otho, have escaped to France. They will never come back to England again." "And Benet and Otho," I asked, "where are they?" "Otho escaped," cried the old man with a low laugh; "he is as cunning as the devil. He hath gone to Scotland, and hath joined the Highlanders." "And Benet?" "Benet deserved a better fate. After you and he fought that night," and again the old man laughed in his low meaning way, "and he had rejoined his companions, he complained much of the way matters had been managed, and declared that he would no more lift up his hand against the King. Whereupon many being savage with drink, and mad at the words he spoke, accused him of desiring not to kill you. This led to many unwise things being said, and presently many of them turned upon him like a troop of jackals turn upon a lion." "But he fought them?" "Aye, and rejoiced in it, for fighting is the breath of Benet's life. But they were too many for him,--one acted a coward's part and stabbed him in the back." Now at this my heart was sore, for although Benet and I had scarcely ever met save to fight, and although he was a wild savage fellow, I could not help loving him. "But he died like a man," I cried; "he showed no fear?" "He died grandly. He had but one regret at dying, he said." "And that?" I asked eagerly. "I was not there, but one who was, told me. 'Aye, I am grieved,' he said, 'Trevanion promised to fight me. He was the only real man who ever faced me, and now I shall not live to prove that I was the better man of the two.'" We kept Uncle Anthony more than an hour, but we could not prevail upon him to stay all night. It was not for him, he said, to stay at Trevanion on the night after our wedding-day, but before he went he told us many things concerning his life which I could not understand before. I need not write them down here, for he would not wish it. I will only say that the remembrance of the love he once bore for a maid made him love Nancy as a daughter, and this almost led to a breach between him and the Killigrews. "You will come again as soon as you can?" I said to him when at length he left the house. "Aye, as soon as I can. May God bless you, Roger Trevanion." "He hath blessed me," I answered; "blessed me more than I believed possible." "And God bless you, Mistress Nancy Trevanion," he said, turning to my dear wife. "And may God bless you, Uncle Anthony." "Yes, Uncle Anthony, that is the name I love most. May I kiss your hand again, dear lady?" "Yes," said my Nancy. "Not only your hand, dear lady, but your brow, if I may." "Yes, yes," was Nancy's response. "I loved a maid many years ago," he said; "her face was pure like yours, my child, and her eyes shone with the same light, and she--she was called Nancy."