But he called out an order to the old servant to saddle my mare, and stood softly praying and beseeching me in the courtyard till the last moment. Nor when I was mounted would anything serve but he must follow at my stirrup to the gate. But when I had briefly taken leave, and the heavy doors had creaked behind me, I heard a voice calling after me down the road— “Dear young sir! Dear friend!—I had forgotten somewhat.” Returning, I found the gate fastened, and the iron shutter slipp’d back. “Well?” I asked, leaning toward it. “Dear young friend, I pity thee, for thy paper is worthless. To-day, by my advices, the army of our most Christian Parliament, more than twenty thousand strong, under the Earl of Stamford, have overtaken thy friends, the malignant gentry, near Stratton Heath, in the northeast. They are more than two to one. By this hour to-morrow, the Papists all will be running like conies to their burrows, and little chance wilt thou have to seek Delia Killigrew, much less to find her. And remember, I know enough of thy late services to hang thee: mercy then will lie in my friends’ hands; but be sure I shall advise none.” And with a mocking laugh he clapp’d—to the grating in my face. CHAPTER XV. I LEAVE JOAN AND RIDE TO THE WARS. You may guess how I felt at being thus properly fooled. And the worst was I could see no way to mend it; for against the barricade between us I might have beat myself for hours, yet only hurt my fists: and the wall was so smooth and high, that even by standing on Molly’s back I could not—by a foot or more—reach the top to pull myself over. There was nothing for it but to turn homewards, down the hill: which I did, chewing the cud of my folly, and finding it bitter as gall. What consoled me somewhat was the reflection that his threats were, likely enough, mere vaporing: for of any breach of the late compact between the parties I had heard nothing, and never seem’d a country more wholly given up to peace than that through which I had ridden in the morning. So recalling Master Tingcomb’s late face of terror, and the confession in my pocket, I felt more cheerful. “England has grown a strange place, if I cannot get justice on this villain,” thought I; and rode forward, planning a return-match and a sweet revenge. There is no more soothing game, I believe, in the world than this of holding imaginary triumphant discourse with your enemy. Yet (oddly) it brought me but cold comfort on this occasion, my wound being too recent and galling. The sky, so long clouded, was bright’ning now, and growing serener every minute: the hills were thick with fox-gloves, the vales white with hawthorn, smelling very sweetly in the cool of the day: but I, with the bridle flung on Molly’s neck, pass’d them by, thinking only of my discomfiture, and barely rousing myself to give back a “Good-day” to those that met me on the road. Nor, till we were on the downs and Joan’s cottage came in sight, did I shake the brooding off.