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'Not so poor for a marquis, cousin Dorothy, as to be called the poor Marquis. Why dost thou call me poor? 'My lord, I mean my dog. 'The truth will still lie between me and thy dog, said the marquis. 'But come now, instruct me. Who is this prisoner, and how comes he here? 'He be young Mr. Heywood of Redware, my lord, and a pestilent roundhead, answered one of his captors. 'Who knows him?
Heywood had written her a letter, hardly the less unwelcome for the kindness of its tone, in which he offered her the shelter and hospitality of Redware 'until better days. 'Better days! exclaimed Dorothy with contempt. 'If such days as he would count better should ever arrive, his house is the last place where I would have them find me!
'But, all things being lawful in love and war, not to mention hate and rebellion, this mare, if I am blessed with a chance, shall be well, shall be translated. 'You mean from Redware to Raglan. 'Where she shall be entertained in a manner worthy of her, which is saying no little, if all her paces and points be equal to her walk and her crest.
At length one fine evening in early autumn, when the red sun shone level through the window of the little room where he lay, and made a red glory on the wall, he came to himself a little. 'Is it blood? he murmured. 'Did Dorothy do it? How foolish I am! It is but a blot the sun has left behind him! Ah! I see! I am dead and lying on the top of my tomb. I am only marble. This is Redware church.
'True, answered the marquis; 'but the bishops are the fairer thieves, and may one day be brought to reason and restitution. 'As I trust your lordship will in respect of my mare. 'Nay, that can hardly be. She shall to Gloucester to the king. I would not have sent to Redware to fetch her, but finding thee and her in my house at midnight, it would be plain treason to set such enemies at liberty.
'Hear me, and hold thy peace, master Richard Heywood, she said. 'As good horses as ever stamped in Redware stables go down into Raglan vaults; but yet they eat their oats and their barley, and when they lift their heads they look out to the ends of the world.
'Not so poor for a marquis, cousin Dorothy, as to be called the poor Marquis. Why dost thou call me poor? 'My lord, I mean my dog. 'The truth will still lie between me and thy dog, said the marquis. 'But come now, instruct me. Who is this prisoner, and how comes he here? 'He be young Mr. Heywood of Redware, my lord, and a pestilent roundhead, answered one of his captors. 'Who knows him?
He rose the same instant, and, regardless of the good woman's entreaties, crawled out to go to Redware. She followed him at a little distance, and, before he had walked a quarter of a mile, he was ready to accept her offered arm to help him back. But his recovery was now very rapid, and. after a few days he felt able for the journey.
'True, answered the marquis; 'but the bishops are the fairer thieves, and may one day be brought to reason and restitution. 'As I trust your lordship will in respect of my mare. 'Nay, that can hardly be. She shall to Gloucester to the king. I would not have sent to Redware to fetch her, but finding thee and her in my house at midnight, it would be plain treason to set such enemies at liberty.
'If you are so completely his mistress then, why did you call on me for help? 'Pardon me, my lord; I did not so. 'Why, I heard thee call me two or three times! 'Alas, my lord! I called him Marquis when he was a pup. Everybody about Redware knows Marquis.
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