Philemon and Evatt were in the saddle by five the next morning and a little more than an hour later held consultation with Bagby. Everything except Phil’s intended mission was quickly told him.

“Jingo!” he remarked, and then whistled. “Why, ’t is stealing? Is n’t there to be no law in the land? When do they plot to rob us?”

“They meet this evenin' ter scheme it, an’ a body can’t tell when they’ll act.”

“’T won’t likely be to-night, but I’ll keep guard myself, all the same, and some of the Invincibles shall watch every night.”

This warning given, and a bite taken at the tavern by way of breakfast, the ride to Amboy was made in quick time. Here a boat was secured, and the two were rowed off to the “Asia” as she lay inside the Hook. Evatt had a long conference with her captain in his cabin, and apparently won consent to his plan; for when he returned on deck, a cutter was cleared away, and Phil was told it would put him on the tender which was to carry him to Boston. With many a longing glance at the shore, he bade good-by to Evatt, who cheered him by predictions of reward and speedy return.

Philemon gone, Evatt remained a short time in conference with the chaplain of the man-of-war, and then returned to Amboy. Once more taking horse, he set off on his return to Greenwood, arriving there in the heat of the afternoon. He was forced, by the absence of all the working force in the hayfield, to stable his horse himself, and then he walked toward what he had already observed from the saddle,—Janice, seated upon a garden bench under a poplar on the lawn, making artificial flowers. Let it be acknowledged that until the appearance of Evatt the girl had worked languidly, and had allowed long pauses of idleness while she meditated, but with his advent she became the embodiment of industry.

“Odd’s life!” the man ejaculated as he sat down beside the worker. “’Twixt love’s heat and an August sun, your lover, Janice, has come nigh to dissolving."

Janice, with hands that shook, essayed to snip out a rose petal which her own cheeks matched in tint.

Evatt removed first his hat and then his wig, that he might mop his head. Having replaced the hirsute ornament, he continued: “And thy father is as hot for thy marriage with that yokel. He set the day yestere’en."

“When?” demanded the girl, looking up anxiously.

“What say ye to this day week?”

“Oh!” cried Janice. “Was ever maid born under such a ha’penny planet?”

“Don’t make outcry ’gainst your star when it has sent ye a lover in the nick of time, ready to save ye from the bumpkin.”

Janice took a shy come-and-go glance at him and said: “You mean

“What say ye to an elopement?”

“Oh!” exclaimed the girl, meeting Evatt’s gaze eagerly. “’T would be monstrous delightsome to be run off with, of course; but—”

“But what?”

“Well—I— Mommy told me that in the province no maid could be lawfully wed without her parents’ consent.”

“True,” assented the tempter, “if she wed where the colony law holds good. But we’ll get round that by having the knot tied on royal ground.”

“Not in England?” said the girl, drawing back a little.

“Think ye I’d treat the lass I love like that?” responded Evatt, reproachfully. “Nay. A friend of mine is chaplain on the ‘Asia’ man-of-war, and he’ll make no bones about helping us. And as the king’s flag and broad arrow puts the ship out of the colony jurisdiction, ’t will make the thing legal despite the law.”

“How romantic!” exclaimed Janice. “To think of making a stolen match, and of being wed on a king’s ship!”

“Now dost want to rail at thy star?”

“’T is great good fortune,” ecstatically sighed the girl. “Think you ’t would be right?”

“Would I ask it if ’t were not?” rejoined Evatt, heartily.

“But dadda and mommy—” began the falterer.

“Will be pleased enough when the job’s done. Think ye, if they were n’t bound they ’d not rather have a titled son-in-law than that gawk?”

“A what?” cried Janice.

“Thou dost not know thy lover’s true name, Janice. ’T is John Ombrey, Lord Clowes, who sits beside thee.”

Janice sprang to her feet. “And I’ve spoke to you as if you were just—just a man,” she cried in a horrified voice.

”’T was not fair so to beguile me!”

Evatt looked at the ground to hide the smile he could not suppress. “’T was done for the king, Janice,” he said. “And ’t is all the more romantic that I’ve won ye without your knowing. Sit down again; if ’t were not in view of the house I should be kneeling to ye.”

Janice sank back on the garden seat. “I can’t believe it yet!” she gasped breathlessly. “I knew of course thou wast a court gentleman, but—”

“And now I suppose ye’ll send me packing and wed the yokel?” suggested the lover.

“Oh, no!” cried Janice. “If you—if you really—” the girl gave a glance at the man, coloured to the temples, and, springing to her feet, fled toward the house. She did not stop till she reached her room, where she flung herself on the bed and buried her cheeks in the pillow. Thus she lay for some time, then rose, looked at herself in the mirror, and finding her hair sadly disordered, she set about the task of doing it over. “’T is beyond belief!” she murmured. “I must be very beautiful!” She paused in her task, and studied her own face. “Now I know why he always makes me feel so uncomfortable —and afraid—and—and gawky. ’T is because he is a lord. Sometimes he does look at me as if—as if he were hungry— ugh! It frights me. But he must know what ’s the mode. ‘Lady Janice Clowes.’ ’T is a pity the title is not prettier. Whatever will Tibbie say when she hears!”

It was a little after ten that evening when the squire and Evatt parted for the night in the upper hail, the former being, as usual, not tipsy, but in a jovial mood toward all things; and as this attitude is conducive to sleep, his snores were ere long reverberating to all waking ears. One pair of these were so keenly alive to every noise that not the chirp of a cricket escaped them, and from time to time their owner started at the smallest sound. Owing to this attention, they heard presently the creak of the stairs, the soft opening of the front door, and even the swish of feet on the grass. Then, though the ears fairly strained to catch the least noise, came a silence, save for the squire's trumpeting, for what seemed to the girl a period fairly interminable.

Finally the rustling of the grass told of the return of the prowler, and as the girl heard it she once more began trembling, “Oh!” she moaned. “If only I had n’t—if only he’d go away!” She rose from the bed, and stole to the window.

“Mr. Evatt, I’m so frightened, I don’t dare,” she whispered to the figure standing below. “Wait till to-morrow night!

“Nonsense!” said the man, so loudly that Janice was more cared than ever. “I told ye it must be to-night. Come down quickly.”

“Oh, please!” moaned Janice.

“Dost want to be the wife of that gawk?” demanded Evatt, impatiently.

Though he did not know it, the girl vacillated. “At least I’m not frightened of Phil,” was her thought.

“Well,” called the man more loudly, “art going to keep me here all night?”

“Hush!” whispered Janice. “Thee’ll wake—”

“Belike I will,” he retorted irritably. “And if they ask me what ’s in the wind, they shall have the truth. Odd’s life! I’m not a man to be fooled by a chit of a girl.”

“Oh, hush!” again she begged, more frightened at the prospect of her parents knowing than by any other possibility. “I’ll come if you’ll only be quiet.”

She took a small bundle, hurriedly stole downstairs, and passed out of the house.

“Now ye’ve come to your senses,” said the man. “Give me the bundle and your hand,” he continued, and set out at a rapid pace across the lawn, having almost to drag the girl, her feet carried her so unwillingly. “Over with ye,” he ordered, as they reached the stile at the corner, and when Janice descended she found two horses hitched to the fence and felt a little comforted by the mere presence of Daisy. She was quickly mounted, and they set off, the girl so helpless in her fright that Evatt had to hold her horse’s bridle as well as his own.

“Burn it!” exclaimed Evatt, presently, “art never going to end thy weeping?”

“If you would only have waited till—” sobbed Janice.

“’T was no time for shilly-shallying,” interrupted the man. “Dost not see that we had to take to-night, when the groom was gone, for there ’d have been no getting the horses with him sleeping in the stable?”

“What if we meet him returning?” cried the girl, her voice shaking.

“’T would little matter. Think ye he could catch us afoot?”

“But he could tell dadda.”

“And by that time we shall be two-thirds of the way to Amboy. ’T is but a twenty miles, and we should be there by three. Then if we meet no delay in getting a boat, we shall be on the ‘Asia’ near seven. By eight the chaplain will have made us twain one.”

“Oh!” moaned the girl, “what ever will dadda say?”

As this was a question no one could answer, a silence ensued, which lasted until they rode into Brunswick. Guiding the horses upon the green, to reduce the beat of their hoofs to a minimum, Evatt turned off the grass at the river road and headed toward the bridge across the Raritan. As they approached, a noise of some kind arrested Evatt’s attention, and he was just checking the horses when a voice cried:—

“Stand!”

Janice gave a startled cry which instantly set a dog barking.

“Keep silence!” again ordered the unseen man.

Evatt, after an oath below his breath, demanded, “By what right do ye stop us, whoever ye are?”

“By the right of powder and ball,” remarked the voice, drily.

Again the dog barked, and both Evatt and the unseen man swore. “Curse the beast!” said the latter. “Hist, Charles! Call the dog, or he’ll wake the town.”

Another voice from a little distance called, “Clarion!” in a guarded inflection; meantime the hound had discovered his mistress, and was jumping about her horse, giving little yelps of pleasure.

In another instant Charles came running up. “What’s wrong?” he questioned.

“’T is a couple of riders I’ve halted,” said the voice from the shadow.

“Out of the way!” ordered Evatt. “Ye’ve no right to prevent us from going forward. I’ve pistols in my holsters, and ye’d best be careful how ye take the law into your own hands.”

The groom gave an exclamation as he recognised the riders; and paying no attention to Evatt, he sprang to the side of the girl and rested his hand on the bridle, as if to prevent her horse from moving, while he asked in amazement: “What brings you here?”

Speechless and shamed, the girl hung her head.

“Let go that bridle, ye whelp!” blustered Evatt, throwing back the flap of his holster and pulling out a heavy horse pistol.

As he made the motion, the bondsman dropped the rein and seized the hand that held the weapon. For a moment there was a sharp struggle, in which the third man, who sprang from the shadow, joined. Nor did Evatt cease resistance until three men more came running up, when, overborne by numbers, he was dragged from his horse and held to the ground. In the whole contest both sides had maintained an almost absolute silence, as if each had reasons for not waking the villagers.

“Stuff a sod of grass in his mouth to keep him quiet,” ordered Charles, panting, “and tie him hand and foot.” Taking a lantern from one of the men, he walked back to the speechless and frightened girl and held the light to her face. “’T is not possible you—you—oh! I’ll never believe it of you.”

With pride and mortification struggling for mastery, Janice replied: “What you think matters not to me.”

“You were eloping with this man?”

Though the groom’s thoughts were of no moment to the girl, she replied: “To escape marrying Philemon Hennion.”

“What things women are!” he exclaimed contemptuously. “You deserve no better than to be his doll common, but—”

“We were to be married,” cried Janice.

”In the reign of Queen Dick!”

“This very day on the ‘Asia’ frigate.”

“A likely tale,” jeered the man. “Bring that fellow down to the boat,” he called, and catching hold of the bridle, he started walking.

“Whither are you taking me?” inquired Janice, in fright.

“The parson is down by the river, helping transfer the powder, and I’m going to leave you with him to take back to Greenwood.”

“Oh, Charles,” besought the girl, “you’ll not be so cruel! I’d sooner die than—than—Think what mommy— and dadda—and the whole village—I did n’t want to go with him—but—Please, oh, please! You’ll not disgrace me? I’ll promise never to go off with him—indeed—”

“Of that I’ll be bound,” sneered the servant, with a harsh laugh, “for I’m going to take him with me to Cambridge.”

For a moment Janice was silent, then cried: “If you only knew how I hate you.”

The man laughed bitterly. “I do—from the way I hate— ay, and despise you!”

Another moment brought them to the edge of a wharf, where a number of men were busying themselves in stowing barrels on board a small sloop. “Hold this horse,” ordered the servant, while he joined one of the toilers and drew him apart in consultation.

“Powder aboard, cap’n,” presently called some one.

“Take that man and stow him below decks along with it,” ordered Charles. “Good-by, parson. I hope to send good news from Cambridge of this night’s work. Boys, take Bagby out of the stocks before daylight, and tell him if the Invincibles want their powder to follow us, and they shall have fifty rounds of it a man, with plenty of fighting to boot. All aboard that are for the front!”

Half a dozen men followed, while those on the wharf cast off the fasts. But all at once stood still when the parson, with bowed head, began a prayer for the powder, for the adventurers who took it, and for the general and army it was designed to serve. Sternly yet eloquently he prayed until the boat had drifted with the tide out of hearing, and the creak of the blocky came across the water, showing that those on board were making sail. Then, as the men on the wharf dispersed, he mounted the horse Evatt had ridden.

“Janice Meredith,” he said sternly,” I propose to occupy this ride with a discourse upon the doctrine of total depravity, from which downward path you have been saved this night, deducing therefrom an illustration of the workings of grace through foreordination,—the whole with a view to the saving of your soul and the admonishment of your sinful nature.”