Well, let him, since Percy de Bohun at this very moment, in all liklihood, kneels at the feet of Lady Diana; if highwaymen want to bear her off, why should she complain? And just then the tinkle of the little brook at the wayside beckons in Her Ladyship’s ear, the Castle tower appears to he dancing up and down against the sky; the two stark trees, yonder on the heath, are surely turning somersaults; the bundle drags all forgotten at her heels, and presently lies in the tall grasses which she threaded on her way to the brook. Her head swam, ten thousand blunderbusses seemed to be firing off inside of it; she pulled off her wig and threw it far from her; she unbuttoned her coat and waistcoat, and drew her cloak in a twist about her; she staggered, caught at an elder; it swayed with her to the water, as she fell swooning with her thirsty lips just in touch of the sparkling bubbles; her wan face shining in the glint of sunshine, the whole round world and all the men and women in it quite forgot, even her sword, unbuckled with the bed-cord, now lay glinting its jewels in the sedges half a dozen rods away. A pair of robins eyed her from the bushes, a bee swerved and swung above her mouth; the minnows darted next her cheek, but My Lady did not wake for any or all of these. She lay there motionless until the sun had gone down and all the sweet scents and drowsy sounds and whirrs and flutters of twilight had come up; until a fine coach with four horses and two postilions came prancing and pawing at a great rate of speed out of the wood to the heath. Until a little weazened fine gentleman, who had dozed in his bed until long past noon for fear of encountering a certain other gentleman, had risen leisurely, dined with relish, set out from the Queen and Artichoke only after being assured that the other gentleman had gone off on a ruined horse back to Garratt Lane in the hopes of obtaining a suitable mount, which same was not to be had short of the ten mile return; until the little gentleman, then, thrusting his face out of his coach window as the vehicle came to a sudden standstill, spoke: “Is this the heath?” he asks with blinking eyes and a shiver. “Yes, Sir Robin, Farnham Heath, Sir!” answers one of the postilions. “Your pleasure, Sir Robin?” asks the second man respectfully, quieting his horses. “Well,” returns the little Baronet, “if you think can gallop across faster than those devils could overtake us, I say, proceed. If not—” he glances back over his shoulder. To tell the truth, the gentleman from Kent considered himself as betwixt two very impending fires, and, ’tis safe to say, he dreaded Sir Percy de Bohun’s possibility at his back as much, if not more, than he did the robbers in front of him. “We’re in the best condition, Sir,” returned the man, “and fifty minutes ought to take us out of all chances of danger.” “Unless,” replies the master, again casting an apprehensive eye to the rear, “they might close in on us from behind.”