So I finished his sentence for him; and in reply he took my hand and looked at me with an almost humble gaze. "And you do not scorn me?" said he. "I love myself," said I. "Ah! yes," said he, "you told me so; and I scorned you for it. Now-- But what brings you here, Humphrey?" The change in his voice was so sudden and resolute that it forbade me to say another word about the matter our hearts were fullest of. Who knows but that, had I spoken then, he might have guessed the truth; and so our lives might have broken asunder at that point? Now the chance was past. But the chance was come to tell him my news, which I did, then and there, and marvellously it moved him. Not that he spoke much, still less raved. But his face grew thunderous and his eyes flashed; and the few questions he asked me he put in a voice which half startled me by its smothered passion. He took in the whole peril in a moment; and if once I had been fool enough to imagine I should direct the enterprise which was to thwart the villainy, I was soon undeceived. "Humphrey," aid he, "are you free to stand by me in this?" I told him that now I owned no master but him. His face cleared up joyously for a moment at that. "Good; I claim you, then, not as a master, but as a comrade. Be here to-night as the sun sets. Take this bow and dirk; and farewell, my friend, till we meet again." And he left me. CHAPTER NINE. HOW I CAUGHT THE MISERICORDE. So restless and anxious was I as the day passed that I hastened back to my hiding-place in the wood early in the afternoon, determined rather to lie there than run the risk of being seen in the village. It was well I did so, for I had not been there half-an-hour when I heard Ludar's heavy tramp crashing through the underwood. He threw himself beside me, haggard and dejected. "How is she to know of this?" said he. "Tell her," I answered. He smiled scornfully. "Had you ever seen the maiden," said he, "you would know that it is no light task. She has me at arm's length. If I tell her of her peril and offer my protection she will perhaps say she needs not my protection, or that, if I like not the peril, I need not face it. Or she may suspect me of serving myself while I denounce my enemy. Or she may take the case to Sir William, whom I believe to be the Captain's friend. To speak plain, Humphrey, I am afraid to speak to her, and for that reason I have come to you." "Indeed," said I; "if she would not hear you, how would she be like to heed a plain London 'prentice like me?" "At least she would not suspect you of any motive but that of serving her." Little he knew! Yet I never saw him less courageous or more humble than now. He was a rude, uncouth outlaw, he said, and knew none of the arts and speeches of a fine gentleman. She laughed at his clumsy ways and despised his ignorance. She would as soon think of trusting her safety to him as to this elderly rascal Laker.