‘Fright not my horse, friend,’ she said.—­’But how!’ she added, suddenly remembering him, ’is it possible?  Master Upstill!  Gently, gently, little Dick!  Master Upstill is an old friend.  What! hast thou too turned soldier?  Left thy last and lapstone and turned soldier, master Upstill?’

‘I have left all and followed him, mistress,’ answered Castdown.

‘Art sure he called thee, master Upstill?’

‘I heard him with my own ears.’

‘Called thee to be a shedder of blood, master Upstill?’

‘Called me to be a fisher of men, and thee I catch, mistress—­thus,’ returned the man, stepping quickly forward and making another grasp at Dick’s bridle.

It was all Dorothy could do to keep herself from giving him a smart blow across the face with her whip, and riding off.  But she gave Dick the cut instead, and sent him yards away.

‘Poor Dick! poor Dick!’ she said, patting his neck; ’be quiet; master Upstill will do thee no wrong.  Be quiet, little man.’

As she thus talked to her genet, Upstill again drew near, now more surly than at first.

‘Say what manner of woman art thou?’ he demanded with pompous anger.  ‘Whence comes thou, and whither does thee go?’

‘Home,’ answered Dorothy.

‘What place calls thee home?’

’Why! dost not know me, master Upstill?  When I was a little one, thou didst make my shoes for me.’

’I trust it will be forgiven me, mistress.  Truly I had ne’er made shoe for thee an’ I had foreseen what thee would come to!  For I make no farther doubt thou art a consorter with malignants, harlots, and papists.’

Again he clutched at her bridle, and this time, whether it was Dorothy or Dick’s fault, with success.  Dorothy dropped the bridle, put her hand in her pocket, struck Dick smartly with her whip, and as he reared in consequence, drew it across Upstill’s eyes, and so found the chance of administering her bolus.

It was thoroughly effective.  The fellow left his hold of the bridle, and began a series of efforts to remove it, which rapidly grew wilder and wilder, until at last his gestures were those of a maniac.

‘There!’ she cried, as she bounded from him, ’take thy first lesson in good manners.  No one can rid thee of that mouthful, which is as thy evil words returned to choke thee!—­Thou hadst better keep me in sight,’ she added, as she gave Dick his head, ’for no one else can free thee.’

Upstill ceased his futile efforts, caught up his carbine, and fired—­not without risk to Dorothy, for he was far too wrathful to take the aim that would have ensured her safety.  But she rode on unhurt, meditating how to secure Upstill when she got him to Wyfern, whither she doubted not he would follow her.  Her difficulties were not yet past, however, for just as she reached her own ground, she was once again met by the order to stand.

This time it came in a voice which, notwithstanding the anxiety it brought with it, was almost as welcome as well known, and yet made her tremble for the first time that night:  it was the voice of Richard Heywood.  Dick also seemed to know it, for he stood without a hint from his mistress, while, through the last hedge that parted her from the little yet remaining of the property of her fathers, came the man she loved—­an enemy between her and her own.