A tried and trusted messenger was despatched to Glastonbury by Sir Robin, who knew the people and the country well; he brought back word that old Hodge and his wife were yet living and well, and that they were more than willing to take their own share of the risk, for it was death to shelter attainted men; and that, so far as he could learn, Sir John Redfyrne was living in his own manor house--the reader knows how he had made it “his own”--and was expected daily to return to court. “Better wait till we are sure he has returned thither,” said Sir Robert. “Nay, Redfyrne Hall is many miles from Glaston; there is little danger: besides we shall be well disguised; and we must remember every week makes the weather worse for crossing the Channel in an open boat.” So the day came, a bright calm day within the octave of All Saints’, very mild and balmy for the season, the day for departure from their little Zoar, on their perilous errand. They sat at breakfast for the last time. Do not let the word conjure up tea and coffee before the mind of the reader, it was a most substantial meal, composed of joints and pastry, washed down by ale and wine; but they ate little. It was over, there was not much talk, the hearts of all were too full, and what there was ran in a subdued strain; the dear old lady was in tears, for Cuthbert had become a second Robin, and it was like losing her son again. Before they parted, Sir Robert brought a sword from the armoury. “It was my poor Robin’s; wear it, my son, for his sake, for thou art worthy of it.” Their disguises were at hand, and they assumed them and departed, after a warm farewell and many deep expressions of gratitude. Cuthbert felt a little sad at first, but the invigorating air, and the restoration to life and action soon revived his spirits, and the love of adventure, never wanting in the young, shed its glamour over him, as they rode over Woodbury Common on their way to Glastonbury. And thence from that breezy height, looking back, he caught his last view of Dartmoor. FOOTNOTES [46] “He shall feed me in a green pasture, and lead me forth beside the waters of comfort.”--_Psalm_ xxiii. 2. [47] Witness, for instance, the case of Lord Dacre, of Hurstmonceux, executed for an offence which, a few generations earlier, would hardly have been considered an offence at all. Like Percy of Chevy Chase he had gone hunting in his neighbour’s grounds; a fray took place and he slew a gamekeeper. Henry would hear of no excuse, and the noble paid for the peasant’s blood on the scaffold at Tyburn, June 29th, 1541. [48] Sir Walter Raleigh, born six years later, in 1552. CHAPTER X. _THE SHADOWS DARKEN._ In the library of Castle Redfyrne sat Sir John, the present lord of that ancient manor, at a writing table placed in the embrasure of a gothic window, whence he could look over the broad acres he had made his own.