"Well, what I see is just the reverse of that," said Prue, casting a dissatisfied glance at her own reflection, as she hurried away to rid herself of her somber dress and release her curls from their unaccustomed bonds. This was hardly accomplished to her satisfaction, when Sir Geoffrey Beaudesert arrived, in a state of great excitement. "Good morning, fair ladies," he cried, saluting them with less ceremony than usual. "No need to ask whether you have seen this morning’s _Courant_." "Why not?" inquired Prue innocently. "Because you look too happy and unconcerned to have heard the disastrous news," he said, with a portentous air. "I grieve to be a harbinger of misfortune." "You alarm us," cried Prue. "What has happened? Speak!" "Calm yourself, dearest Prudence, and remember that _I_ will not suffer any harm to come to you." Sir Geoffrey lowered his voice to a mysterious whisper, "The highwayman you wot of has escaped!" "Is that all?" said Prue, with a shrug; "I thought you had news for us. We knew that an hour ago." "You knew it? How? Has the villain dared—" "How did we know it?" Peggie interrupted quickly, to prevent a retort from her cousin. "Why, the same way you did," and she displayed the printed sheet that, adorned with a rude cut of a gallows, gave a minute account of the morning’s executions, adding that the queen’s clemency had been extended to Robin Freemantle, through the influence of powerful friends in _certain quarters_, and that he had left Newgate with _great secrecy_ late Sunday evening. Sir Geoffrey was greatly vexed at having his surprise discounted. "I’m glad to find you taking it so unconcernedly," he observed, looking anything but glad. "I feared that you would be crushed by such a calamity." "Did you, indeed, think us bloodthirsty enough to regret the saving of a fellow-creature’s life?" said Prue, with grave reproof. "I hoped that you had a better opinion of our humanity." "Humanity," echoed the baronet, with ill-dissembled irritation. "Such angelic sentiments well become the cruel beauty whose path is strewn with bleeding hearts. But has my dear Prudence no pity to spare for the unhappy swain, condemned to worse than death by Robin, the highwayman’s, unexpected good luck?" "On the contrary," laughed Prue, "she congratulates you on your escape; believe me, a far greater piece of luck than Robin’s." "Do not jest, dear one, I implore you," said Sir Geoffrey seriously. "You certainly have not considered the position this miscarriage of justice has placed you in. Let me lay before you the consequences—" "Pray, do not," interrupted Prue pettishly. "If I am resigned to the will of Heaven, why persecute me with reasons for rebellion?" Sir Geoffrey, with his hand upon his heart, bowed to the ground. "Before such piety, I am dumb," he said. "Is it permitted to ask if you are reconciled to your creditors as well as to the means you took to rid yourself of them?"