In telling how we came happily through this trouble of Captain Royston's disgrace, I perceive that there is from this point a greater number of those incidents in which, although they are necessary to the proper understanding of my tale, I had myself no personal share. While, however, my knowledge in such case is but second-hand, it is hearsay of the best quality, drawn from divers witnesses whose testimony I have found seldom divergent. I therefore purpose in my remaining chapters (now happily few), for greater ease to the reader, to make of what I know and what I believe a narrative as plain and straightforward as I may, without further reference to my sources of information, which would but encumber those efforts at despatch that must, if my story cannot, earn me a reader's approbation. Colonel Royston, coming fresh and crammed with law from the justice-room (he being of late on their Majesties' Commission of the Peace), tells me that hearsay is not evidence. To which I can but reply that such as I give will be nearer the truth than much that he hears on oath. When Ned, covering my retreat, presented himself before my father in the dining-hall, he found Sir Michael seated in his great chair by the hearth; on his one side at respectful distance stood Farmer Kidd, while on the other, and close to his father, sat Philip. Now Kidd, much delayed by the foundering of his horse, had come in about midnight, bringing the first clear news of my safety. He had found Sir Michael in some disorder, between the pain in his leg, much aggravated by his vigil, and anxiety for his daughter. Poor Christopher was like to have suffered in consequence; for Sir Michael, while filling him with food and drink, rated him soundly for leaving me behind, and would have had him return at once to Royston. Philip, whose name and face had gotten him a good mount upon the road, arriving about half an hour later than Christopher, found him dulled with fatigue and feeding, and halting half-way between slumber and tears. My father's mind was soon at rest about his errant daughter; for, when he learned that Ned Royston had me in charge, and knew that I was Philippa, he merely said that I could not be in safer hands, and thereafter addressed himself at once to the consideration of Philip's story. "And so, dear sir," said my brother, when his tale was done, "give me a horse and money, and I will make my way back to France, that I may keep faith with Royston, and set myself again to serve those that sent me into England." "Not so, Philip," answered his father, "for I will give you nothing to become once more the active enemy of the Prince of Orange. If I do clip thy claws, thou must stay with me till these troubles are done. I like not your faith; Gad 's my life! I like not your cause, for all it was once mine. But yourself I do love. For the sweet sake of your mother, son of mine, stay with me whom all have left."