“Nay, I said not that. In some sort they have been committed to our care, but it means for both of us, or I am much mistaken, either the length of a rope or the inside of a prison. I am older than you, my young friend, and think there is no woman worth the sacrifice either of my life or of my liberty. Now, go your way, and see her mounted upon Bayard, while I look after the old man, for I will have nothing to do with the wench. The rogues you dispersed will be looking for us presently. Before we meet them I should prefer being within sight of the Royal troops.” The old world laughs at Love, as laugh it may. And yet from generation to generation unheeding youth takes up the foolish old song, and dances to the ancient measure with a light and joyful heart. What though the roses wither and the garlands fade? These are fresh, and the morning dew is on them. What though the lips grow dumb, and the sound of the flute and the song is hushed and stilled? In the fresh and roseate morning as yet there are no shadows and no regrets; the heart is full of hope and joy. And so it has been since the lips of our first parents met in newly-awakened bliss, in the time when the world was young, and pain and satiety were unknown to mortals. As yet Gervase was not in love, but his heart throbbed with an indefinable emotion as Dorothy Carew rested her hand upon his shoulder, and placing her dainty foot in his hand, sprang upon the great military saddle and thanked him with a smile. “This is a dear old horse,” she said, patting the charger´s neck, and gathering up the reins in her hand. “We begin early to trouble you, and shall never be able to repay you and your friend.” “It were repayment enough,” said Gervase, “to find you safe within the walls of Londonderry, and I am pleased to think that I have been able to serve you a little.” “That is the speech of a gentleman, after all,” she said smiling. “I little thought you were a friend as you came shouting down the road; indeed, you would make a great hit at Drury Lane or Sadler´s Wells; and what a figure you would cut at Saint James´s!” “I confess I do not make a very gallant show,” said Gervase, “but these rags will serve their turn, and help us both, I trust, to better fortune.” The old man had been helped upon the second horse, and, with his box placed before him, followed them along the rough and broken road. He seemed wholly oblivious to what was taking place, and so long as his treasure was safe, seemed perfectly content to act as he was bidden. Macpherson, with his head bent, walked by the horse´s bridle and listened with a frown upon his face to the conversation of Gervase and the girl. He had cast no glance in her direction, but after he had delivered his mind to Gervase, had busied himself about the old man with a rough kindliness.