“I doubt it. I was never one to be popular with the lasses.” “I was not thinking of women, sir, but of men who have fought and lost.” “Oh, all’s not lost because York is taken! There will be a King in England for many a day yet, never you fear.” The mercer cast a timorous glance about him, then suddenly thrust forth his hand. “You are a brave man. God make your prophecy true. I thought you came in to change your coat with the times, like the rest of us.” “Coats matter little if the heart is right,” replied the Northerner, returning the proffered clasp. “You will do what you like with this discarded shell of mine, for I travel light and cannot be bothered with it. So, good-bye.” “‘Ca cannie,’ as your countrymen say, when once you reach the street. Avoid the soldiery and get free of York as soon as you can.” The gloom of evening was on the town when Armstrong emerged, yet he had not gone twenty steps before a stern officer planted himself square in his path. “Who are you?” came the curt demand. “A friend who has been looking for you. The shops are closing, and I am purposing to buy a pair of pistols like the one whose butt I can see in your belt. I may need your help to open a gunner’s booth for me.” “You speak lightly.” “There is need of that when it grows dark.” “Fellow, you shall come with me and explain yourself.” “Not so. You shall come with me and do my explaining. And as the day is fading, read that while it still holds.” Armstrong handed him the pass and the officer scanned it suspiciously. “To Oxford,” he muttered. “If you are not on the road between Carlisle and Oxford, you are at least in the costume for the latter sink of iniquity.” “Yes, and I have the pass to bring me there. Do you dispute it?” “No.” “I am glad of that, for you would come into collision with Oliver Cromwell if you did. Now give me your aid toward firearms.” The officer turned with him and walked down the street, beat at the door of the gunshop, and saw the desires of the stranger fulfilled. Then he accompanied him to the door of the inn, bidding him good-night, and disappearing down the unlighted street. The young lady was partaking of the repast prepared for her in the private parlour set aside for her use, said the landlord in answer to his guest’s inquiry. On being shown to the door Armstrong knocked on the panels, and was admitted by old John, who was in attendance. The girl sat at a table and looked up with surprise, not recognizing her visitor in his new finery, thinking some stranger had mistaken the room; but, seeing who it was as he advanced, she turned her gaze away from him and gave no greeting. If he came to apologize now, it was too late, she said to herself, and his first words showed that this was indeed his purpose.