A strange thing happened. The day set for his execution came, and he was led out of the Traitors’ Gate into a barge to take him to the place where he was to suffer for his treason, which had been black enough to hang forty men as well as one. He was bound, at least, so said the Lieutenant of the Tower, and went under strong guard in the king’s boat, yet in mid stream he leaped overboard and disappeared. His keepers swore that it was magic; one smelled sulphur and one swooned with horror at a vision he saw in the water. The truth of the matter no man ever knew, except that six stout yeomen of the Tower suffered for the prisoner’s escape, and the wizard was never seen alive again. But for years afterwards there was a story that he haunted his house upon the Thames, and that at night a red light shone from every window, and his small figure was seen flitting about on the flat roofs of those two upper stories. The shadow of the little man in the russet cloak haunted every old wife’s memory in that neighborhood, and whether he lay dead at the bottom of the river, or lived in some other region, he was still a terror to the imagination of many of his old-time clients, and his name hushed many a crying child with terror when all else had failed. It was even whispered that had he been set free, Queen Jane would not have sickened and died, and Prince Edward would have been a baby of better promise, and not with that look which made the old women shake their heads in grim foreboding. At Christmas of that year, the bells rang merrily at Mohun’s Ottery, and my lord privy seal came there to grace the wedding of Lord Raby and Mistress Betty Carew; and the bride wore on her neck a splendid jewel, sent by the king’s grace in memory of her petition for her lover. Nor was she portionless, although the child of Sir Thomas, for my Lady Crabtree gave her a dowry, and it was said that in old Madam’s will she was the heiress to the vast fortune that had accumulated and doubled under Lady Crabtree’s shrewd management. Sir William Carew gave away the bride, who looked the great beauty that she was in her white robes and with the light of love and happiness, which is a wondrous beautifier, in her brown eyes. It was said that there had never been a more stately or handsome couple wedded in Devon, or a finer wedding; though some stared at the groom’s strange servant, for Master Cross-Eyes, even in his wedding garments, looked a rough attendant; but to Lady Raby he seemed an angel in disguise. Standing beside her husband, Betty looked about the great hall thronged with guests in her honor, and in her heart she remembered the sad and penniless orphan who had come there a few years before. In her happiness she did not forget her thanksgiving to Heaven for the wonderful change which had come into her life, which, stretching out before her in a golden vista, seemed to hold only love and hope. THE END. ON THE RED STAIRCASE. BY M. IMLAY TAYLOR.