‘Fairfax!’ cried Scudamore; ‘is that villain come hither?’

’Sir Thomas Fairfax arrived two days agone, answered mistress Rees.  ‘Alas, it is but too sure a sign that for Raglan the end is near!’

‘Good morrow, mother Rees,’ said Richard, looking in at the door, radiant as an Apollo.  The same moment out came Scudamore from the closet, pale as a dying moon.

‘I want my horse, Heywood!’ he cried, deigning no preliminaries.

’Thy horse is at Redware, Scudamore; I carry him not in my pocket.  I saw him yesterday; his flesh hath swallowed a good many of his bones since I looked on him last.  What wouldst thou with him?’

‘What is that to thee?  Let me have him.’

’Softly, sir Rowland!  It is true I promised thee thy liberty, but liberty doth not necessarily include a horse.’

‘Thou wast never better than a shifting fanatic!’ cried sir Rowland.

‘An’ I served thee as befitted, thou shouldst never see thy horse again,’ returned Richard.  ’Yet I promise thee that so soon as Raglan hath fallen, he shall again be thine.  Nay, I care not.  Tell me whither thou goest, and—­Ha! art thou there?’ he cried, interrupting himself as he caught sight of Tom in the chimney corner; and pausing, he stood silent for a moment. ’—­Wouldst like to hear, thou rascal,’ he resumed presently, ’that mistress Dorothy Vaughan got safe to Wyfern this morning?’

‘God be praised!’ said Tom Fool.

’But thou shalt not hear it.  I will tell thee better if less welcome news—­that I come from conducting her back to Raglan in safety, and have seen its gates close upon her.  Thou shalt have thy horse, sir Rowland, an’ thou can wait for him an hour; but for thy ride to Wyfern, that, thou seest, would not avail thee.  Thy cousin rode by here this morning, it is true, but, as I say, she is now within Raglan walls, whence she will not issue again until the soldiers of the parliament enter.  It is no treason to tell thee that general Fairfax is about to send his final summons ere he storm the rampart.’

‘Then mayst thou keep the horse, for I will back to Raglan on foot,’ said Scudamore.

’Nay, that wilt thou not, for nought greatly larger than a mouse can any more pass through the lines.  Dost think because I sent back thy cousin Dorothy, lest she should work mischief outside the walls, I will therefore send thee back to work mischief within them?’

‘And thou art the man who professeth to love mistress Dorothy!’ cried Scudamore with contempt.

’Hark thee, sir Rowland, and for thy good I will tell thee more.  It is but just that as I told thee my doubts, whence thou didst draw hope, I should now tell thee my hopes, whence thou mayst do well to draw a little doubt.’

‘Thou art a mean and treacherous villain!’ cried Scudamore.

’Thou art to blame in speaking that thou dost not believe, sir Rowland.  But wilt thou have thy horse or no?’