r despair.

"You must leave this house to-day," said the Countess firmly, "and not
as though you went on a journey. Go forth this afternoon, as for a walk
of pleasure, and carrying nothing save what you can put in your pockets.
When you have set a few miles betwixt yourself and the town, you may
then hire an horse, and ride quickly. I would counsel you not to
journey too direct--if you go north or south, tack about somewhat to
east and west; one may ride with far more safety than many. I am not,
as you know, over rich, yet I will, for my Lady Lettice' sake, lend you
a sufficiency to carry you an hundred miles--and if it fall out that you
are not able to return the loan, trouble yourself not thereabout. I am
doing my best for you, Mr Louvaine, not my worst."

"I thank your Ladyship," faltered the unhappy youth. "But--must I not
so much as visit my grandmother?"

It was no very long time since the White Bear had been to Aubrey a
troublesome nuisance. Now it presented itself to his eyes in the
enticing form of a haven of peace. He was loved there: and he began to
perceive that love, even when it crossed his wishes, was better worth
having than the due reward of his deeds.

"Too great a risk to run," said the Countess, gravely. "If any
inquiration be made for you, and you not found here, the officers of
justice should go straight thither. No: I will visit my Lady Lettice
myself, and soften the thing as best I may to her and to Mrs Louvaine.
The only thing," she paused a moment in thought. "What other friends
have you in London?"

"Truly, none, Madam, save my cousin David--"

"Not a relative. Is there no clergyman that knows you, who is of good
account, and a staunch Protestant?"

"There is truly Mr Marshall, a friend of my grandmother, and an ejected
Puritan."

"Where dwelleth he?"

"In Shoe Lane, Madam."

"Is he a wise and discreet man?"

"I think, Madam, my grandmother holds him for such."

"It is possible," said Lady Oxford, meditatively, "that you might be
safe in his house for a day or two, and your friends from the White Bear
could go as if to see him and his wife--hath he a wife?"

"He buried his wife this last summer, Madam: he hath a daughter that
keeps his house, of about mine own years."

"If you think it worth to run the risk, you might ask this good
gentleman to give you a day's shelter, so as to speak with your friends
ere you depart. It were a risk: yet not, perchance, too great.