Struck by the force of these remarks, our young knight felt he had no alternative but to submit to circumstances, and he accordingly agreed to accept the aid proffered him by his mysterious friend.  But it was not without feelings of intense anguish that he turned away from the path leading to the little secluded cottage containing all he held dear, and followed his conductor, who seemed resolved to allow him no time for further hesitation, but proceeding at a rapid pace towards the west till he reached Broad Saint Giles’s—­then a rural village—­and entered a small tavern, bearing the sign of “The Rose and Crown,” the landlord of which appeared to have an understanding with the promoter, for at a sign from him, he immediately ushered his guests into a chamber up-stairs, and without saying a word, left them alone together.

“Here you will be secure and undisturbed,” said Lanyere; “and all your wants will be cared for by my trusty ally, Barnabas Boteler; but, for your own sake, you must consent to remain a close prisoner, till I bring you word that you may go forth with safety.  I must now leave you, having much to do, and must defer the explanations I design to give you to a more convenient season.  Be not uneasy if you should not see me for a few days, as circumstances may prevent my coming to you.  When I next appear, I trust it may be to bring you good tidings.  Till then, farewell.”

And without waiting for any reply from Sir Jocelyn, he hastily departed.

Left alone, our young knight did the best he could to reconcile himself to the strange situation in which he was placed.  He was naturally full of anxiety, both on his own account, and on that of Aveline; yet, on calm reflection, he felt satisfied he had acted for the best, and that, in accepting the protection of the mysterious individual who seemed bent upon directing his fortunes, he had followed the dictates of prudence.  Barnabas Boteler attended him in person, and suffered no one else to come near him; but though the worthy host seemed anxious to anticipate his wants in every particular, his manner was reserved, and, in Sir Jocelyn’s opinion, he had something of the look of a jailor, and this notion was strengthened when he found himself locked in his room.  Probably this was only done as a precautionary measure by the host; and as the window was at no great height from the ground, and he could descend from it when he chose, he gave himself no great concern about the matter.

In this way three days passed by without anything occurring to break the monotony of his wearisome confinement,—­not even a visit from Clement Lanyere.  To Sir Jocelyn’s inquiries concerning him, the host professed utter inability to give a precise answer, but said that he might arrive at any moment.  As he did not appear, however, on the fourth day, Sir Jocelyn’s patience got quite worn out, and his uneasiness respecting Aveline having become insupportable, he determined, at all hazards, on visiting her cottage.  Without acquainting the host with his intention, or asking to have the door unfastened, he opened the window which looked into a garden at the back of the house, and sprang from it.  His furtive departure did not appear to be noticed, and he soon gained the road, and took the direction of Aveline’s dwelling.