The family considered on Colonel Evellin's request, and as none but themselves knew of Jobson's first retreat, they thought the safety of their noble charge would not be hazarded by indulging him with a companion. It was, however, still deemed expedient to conceal his name and connexion with the Beaumonts, and to describe him to Jobson only as a loyal officer, disabled by hard service, who sought concealment till he was sufficiently recovered to leave England. Jobson rejoiced in the change of apartments. The tincture of superstition, which was universal in those times, gave him a great reluctance to being hid in a monument, though he disguised his general apprehension of supernatural beings under the pretence of dislike to Sir William Waverly. "If it had been a loyal gentleman's tomb," said he, "I dare say I could have slept in it all night very well, but I know the Baronet was no better than a rebel in his heart, and the malice of those scoundrels is not cured by knocking their brains out. To say the truth, my teeth chattered in my head, and my legs twitched so about, that I am sure I never should have got well while I staid there." Jobson's light heart now foreboded that his wound would quickly heal, and that the brave gentleman, who was his companion in affliction, would take him to be his servant, when he should be able to leave England; he, therefore, settled in his own mind, that he would stay in Colonel Evellin's service till the King sent for him to make him a Beef-eater. The concealed Loyalists soon fell into that intimacy which suffering in the same cause naturally inspires. Adversity is a great leveller, not only of artificial distinctions, but also of personal qualities. The dispossessed nobleman, and the village-ploughman, conversed familiarly together of many a hard-fought day. The scene of their warfare lay in different parts of the kingdom; but each listened with painful interest to the details of the other: Evellin ruminating on the errors which had ruined the King's cause, Jobson cursing the knaves who betrayed, and the traitors who beheaded, him. "I cannot help making free with Your Honour," said Jobson, "though I see by all your ways you are a right true gentleman, and not like the Rump-tinkers and Old Noll's make-believes. You would hardly think, merry as I seem with you, that I am very sad at heart: not about Madge Jobson, my wife as was; no, let her go where she will, for she always was a bad one; but 'tis about that noble family that are so good to us both. And that pretty Mistress Constance, as sighs so when she bandages up my knee; sweet creature! she thinks she hurts me, but I would not cry out if she did; for I have a story I could tell her would make her sigh more, and look paler than she does, though she is now as white as a coward marching up to a charged battery."