These two very worthy fellows—­nay, more than that by their own account, being downright martyrs—­were come, for the public benefit, from the Court of Chancery, sitting for everybody’s good, and boldly redressing evil.  This court has a power of scent unknown to the Common-law practitioners, and slowly yet surely tracks its game; even as the great lumbering dogs, now introduced from Spain, and called by some people “pointers,” differ from the swift gaze-hound, who sees his prey and runs him down in the manner of the common lawyers.  If a man’s ill fate should drive him to make a choice between these two, let him rather be chased by the hounds of law, than tracked by the dogs of Equity.

Now, as it fell in a very black day (for all except the lawyers) His Majesty’s Court of Chancery, if that be what it called itself, gained scent of poor Lorna’s life, and of all that might be made of it.  Whether through that brave young lord who ran into such peril, or through any of his friends, or whether through that deep old Counsellor, whose game none might penetrate; or through any disclosures of the Italian woman, or even of Jeremy himself; none just now could tell us; only this truth was too clear—­Chancery had heard of Lorna, and then had seen how rich she was; and never delaying in one thing, had opened mouth, and swallowed her.

The Doones, with a share of that dry humour which was in them hereditary, had welcomed the two apparitors (if that be the proper name for them) and led them kindly down the valley, and told them then to serve their writ.  Misliking the look of things, these poor men began to fumble among their clothes; upon which the Doones cried, “off with them!  Let us see if your message he on your skins.”  And with no more manners than that, they stripped, and lashed them out of the valley; only bidding them come to us, if they wanted Lorna Doone; and to us they came accordingly.  Neither were they sure at first but that we should treat them so; for they had no knowledge of the west country, and thought it quite a godless place, wherein no writ was holy.

We however comforted and cheered them so considerably, that, in gratitude, they showed their writs, to which they had stuck like leeches.  And these were twofold; one addressed to Mistress Lorna Doone, so called, and bidding her keep in readiness to travel whenever called upon, and commit herself to nobody, except the accredited messengers of the right honourable Court; while the other was addressed to all subjects of His Majesty, having custody of Lorna Doone, or any power over her.  And this last threatened and exhorted, and held out hopes of recompense, if she were rendered truly.  My mother and I held consultation, over both these documents, with a mixture of some wrath and fear, and a fork of great sorrow to stir them.  And now having Jeremy Stickles’s leave, which he gave with a nod when I told him all, and at last made him understand it, I laid bare to my mother as